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straykeedz · 6 months

Text

day 26: lee know x reader x han: mirror sex

©straykeedz

tw: female anatomy; mentions of kink exploring but nothing too descriptive; fingering (f receiving); cum tasting; nipple play; unprotected piv sex (don’t!!! 🤨); blowjob; cumshot; choking if you squint; creampie; clit play; mentions of overstimulation but it’s not described; oral sex after reader’s been creampied oops; slight mxm if you squint ;♡

wc: 3,8k;

okay the premise is that i absolutely hate this fic. i started four different plots for this kinktober fic and i’m not satisfied with this at all, but i needed to post something otherwise i would’ve quit. i know myself. so bare with me if this sucks, i went through (i still am tbh) a creative block and couldn’t come up with anything better.

also, funny anecdote: 99% sex, 1% mirror lol

let me know if there's any mistakes - finished writing this super late at night so there might be!

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 : @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; @tooskathepiratefromshield ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

🪞

You’re not used to having two men in bed with you.

You’re not used to having two pairs of hands on you - touching your body, caressing it, squeezing it. You’re not used to having two tongues on your skin - licking every inch of your flesh; two mouths - biting every spot they can, praising you, humming against your body every time they get a reaction from you.

One of them - your sweet, beloved boyfriend Jisung, a cutie pie in the streets, an absolute freak in the sheets. A man with whom you’d tried everything in bed - literally everything, and tonight is no exception.

The other one - his best friend Lee Minho.

It was Jisung’s idea to have a threesome with him. Your jaw had nearly dropped when he specified that he wanted to have a threesome with a man - not any man, his best friend. You’d assumed he wanted to see you in bed with another woman, never in a million years you would’ve guessed a scenario like this - you, sprawled on your bed, Jisung hungrily kissing your lips as Minho plays with your naked breasts, pinching one nipple with his fingers and teasing the other one with his lips.

Well, let’s just say Jisung is a man full of surprises - not that you’re complaining, naturally.

“A threesome?”, your words nearly came out as a loud squeak.

Beside you, Jisung simply nodded. “I mean, only if you’re up for it, too.”, he shrugged. “I can live without it.”

Kink exploring with Jisung was always fun and exciting and it never disappointed you. Never. Before sex with him, you didn’t even know you could cum from your nipples only, for example. Or that you could squirt. Or that you loved overstimulation. Or or or or. Kink exploring with him was honestly your favorite thing, and you wanted to do something for him in return, help him explore his kinks.

“No, it’s okay. I want to try it.”, you promised, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Are you sure?” Jisung asked you, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to say yes just because I want it. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel pressured, love.”

“I’m not, I don’t feel pressured.”, you smiled at him. “Just… Do you have someone in mind? Someone you’d want to do this with?”

Jisung nodded. Now you were curious to see her - to see the woman he wants to do this with, together with you.

“Who is she?”, you asked him, but you saw him lift his eyebrows and blink a couple of times.

“Oh, it’s… it’s not a she. I was thinking…”, he trailed.

“Thinking…?”, you encouraged him.

“Minho.”

And you can’t really blame him - Minho’s hot as fuck and he surely knows what he’s doing in bed. His fingers are expert on your skin, despite this being the first time he actually touches you, but somehow he seems to know exactly where to touch you and what to do to make you squirm under his fingers. Said fingers wander all over the valley of your breasts, down your abdomen, until they stop right before he could brush your mould with his delicate digits.

“Can I touch you down here?” Minho lets go of your nipple to look you in the eyes and ask you the question - big, dark eyes staring deep into yours, pupils blown and you actually find it cute.

“Oh, God, please. Yes.” It should’ve come out from your lips - instead, it’s Jisung who says the words. You giggle, seeing your boyfriend so desperate and eager, and Minho chuckles as well.

You nod, smiling at him. “Yes."

Your breath hitches when Minho’s cold fingers slip under the fabric of your panties and finally touch you there. The way he touches you is so different than when Jisung does it - his touch is timid, tentative, and his eyes are staring into yours to search for any sign of discomfort. He doesn’t know how you like to be touched down there, after all it’s only the first time you’re doing this. His fingers brush your entrance, and he bites his lower lip when he finds out you’re already wet - no, sopping, your panties are drenched in your arousal.

“She’s wet?” Jisung asks Minho, his fingers replacing his friend’s on your nipple, unable to tear his eyes off of where Minho’s fingers disappear inside your underwear.

Minho looks at Jisung, then nods. “So wet.”, he dampens the pads of his fingers, coating them in your arousal, then you feel his digits parting your folds, and you suck in a breath, wrapping your fingers around Jisung’s wrist. “Listen.” Minho tells Jisung, and then he slowly starts to move his fingers inside of you, until squelching sounds are all you can hear.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath, then looks at you with full-blown pupils and flustered cheeks. “Oh, jagi, you’re so wet.”, he huffs. “You like having Minho touching you, don’t you?”, he pinches you nipple. At the same time, Minho’s fingers brush and tease the spongy spot inside of you, making your toes curl.

You nod, biting your lip, unable to speak properly.

“Touch her clit, hyung.” Jisung instructs. “She won’t be able to cum otherwise.”

Minho chuckles, then raises you eyebrows at you both, because he can feel you’re already close, and he hasn’t touched your clit yet. “Mh, we’ll see about that.”, he applies more pressure on your g-spot, making you whimper as your grip around Jisung’s wrist tightens. “Think you can cum like this, y/n?” Minho asks you, looking you in the eye.

You nod eagerly, feeling already close to your first orgasm of the night. Jisung’s a bit confused now and slightly offended, because he never made you cum with his fingers on your g-spot before. Okay, maybe it’s because he gets so eager and needy that he just has to pull his fingers out and fuck you with his cock after a couple of minutes, but still. And now his best friend is about to make you cum with two fingers shoved inside of you, and it’s the hottest thing Jisung’s ever witnessed, and he wants you to witness it too.

“Look at yourself, jagi.”, he holds your chin with his fingers, then turns your head to face the huge mirror doors of your wardrobe at the end of your bed. You’re met with your reflections - you, sprawled on the bed, Minho lying next to you, Jisung on your other side, staring in the mirror as well. “You’re so fucking hot, my sweet love. About to cum with another man’s fingers inside of that sweet little pussy of yours.”

And Minho didn’t even notice the huge ass mirror doors before - too lost in how incredibly sexy you are, with your chest quickly rising and falling, your legs shaking as his fingers quickly work you up to an orgasm. But now - now he’s unable to tear his eyes off of your reflection in the mirror, and he can’t wait to see how beautiful you look when you cum.

“Fucking filthy…” Jisung mumbles, letting go of your chin, but you don’t move your head. “So fucking needy, look at you.”, he mocks you, then pinches your nipple, making you wince.

Then, Jisung turns to look at Minho. “You wanna see how hot she looks when she cums? Wanna hear how sweet she sounds?”, he asks, and before he even realizes it, Minho’s nodding like crazy. “C’mon then. Make her cum, Min.” Jisung demands.

And Minho does make you cum - fingers on your spongy spot, rubbing it mercilessly as your walls clench and your legs shake. You let out a muffled cry, closing your eyes as you release around Minho’s fingers, soaking them completely. The boys are speechless - both looking at your reflection in the mirror, an ethereal sight. Minho’s sure he won’t be able to forget it anytime soon - the way your fingers fist the sheets and your chest rises and falls as you bite your lip.

You whine at the emptiness once Minho removes his fingers from inside of you - long, skinny digits glistening in your orgasm. “You should taste her, hyung.” Jisung speaks softly.

Minho brings his two fingers to his mouth, then wraps his lips around them and sucks, swirling his tongue all over them to lick them clean - you taste amazing. “So sweet.”, he mumbles, pulling out his fingers from his mouth, and Jisung quickly wraps his hand around Minho’s wrist to wrap his lips around his hyung’s fingers, even though Minho’d already licked your arousal off of them.

“Minho…” you shake him off of his own thoughts, and Minho’s eyes focus on you - cheeks flustered, still panting. “Can you fuck me now? Please.”

Minho’s eyes widen and Jisung hums around his hyung’s fingers. For a good second, he’s shocked, because he wasn’t expecting such words to leave your mouth. His eyes immediately flick to Jisung, and the younger boy smirks, releasing Minho’s fingers from his mouth.

“Whatcha waiting for, hyung? You heard her.”, he says, grinning from ear to ear. Then, Jisung looks at you. “You need cock that bad, don’t you, jagi?”

You nod, licking your lips. Jisung chuckles. “Don’t worry, jagiya. Minho’s gonna give it to you real good.”, he turns to look at his friend. “Aren’t you, hyung?”

Minho bites his lip, and his fingers begin to wander all over your body once again, pads of his digits brushing your nipples once again, feeling them harden under his touch. “I am, I am.”, he nods, and then palms himself over his boxers - now feeling incredibly tight.

Now that he knows how your walls feel wrapped around his fingers, he can’t wait to find out how you’ll feel around his cock. It should feel at least a bit wrong - to be this impatient to fuck your best friend’s girlfriend, shouldn’t it? He shouldn’t be so turned on by this. However, in the confines of his black boxers, he’s rock hard. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he kneels on the mattress and hooks his thumb at each side of his underwear, beginning to pull it down his legs. You bite your lip at the sight of those beautiful dancer’s hips and thighs, and your eyes widen once his cock is finally freed - it slaps against his abdomen, hard and thick, tip beautifully pink resting against his abs.

“Shit.”

Again - it should’ve come out of your mouth, but it’s Jisung who swears under his breath at the sight of Minho’s cock - at least one and a half inches longer than his, and slightly thicker. And Jisung’s not small - the opposite.

You prop yourself on your elbows, looking Minho in the eye. “How do you want me?”, you ask him, hooking your fingers on the side of your panties, trying to pull them down your thighs, but it’s hard using just one hand, so Jisung helps you and slides them off completely.

There’s only one plausible answer to that question in Minho’s mind.

“On your back, like this. In front of the mirror.”, he answers a little too quickly. Ever since he saw your reflection in the mirror earlier, he knew he wanted to fuck you in front of it - see your head hang at the end of the bed, witness your eyes roll in the back of your skull as he pounds into you.

Jisung smirks - he knows his hyung too well.

You smile, too, positioning yourself just like Minho wants you, and you shiver when he places the palms of his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. Even though he made you cum earlier, you still feel a little shy to be this exposed in front of him - bare pussy on full display for him to see. Minho spits on his palm, then pumps his hard cock a couple of times.

“Still okay with not using a condom?”, he asks you, staring into your eyes, wanting to make sure you’re still comfortable with him fucking you raw, like you agreed. You nod, a clear signal you didn’t change your mind.

Jisung gets rid of his boxer just as Minho aligns his tip at your entrance, making your body jolt in surprise because it feels even bigger, prodding at your entrance, ready to slip inside any second now.

“I’m putting it in now.” Minho tells you, and you suck in a breath when he finally enters you - thick tip parting your folds, slipping inside your wet, hot cunt. And once he bottoms out inside of you, Minho, too, needs a few seconds to recollect himself.

Once again - it shouldn’t feel this good, to be buried inside your best friend’s girlfriend’s hot, tight pussy. He shouldn’t feel so eager to please you, to fuck you, to thrust inside of you ruthlessly until you’re falling apart on his cock, begging him to let you cum.

It shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. It does, especially when Minho lifts his eyes to meet your reflections in the mirror - the sight so filthy and pornographic. Him, kneeling between your spread legs, balls deep inside of you - and you, lying down beautifully on the bed, one hand fisting the sheets and your other hand on Jisung’s thigh. Finally, Jisung - with his hard cock out, fingers wrapped around it as he too watches the scene before his eyes.

Minho begins to move at a slow and steady pace, knowing that if he goes too fast he’s not going to last. The way his cock moves inside of you is deliciously beautiful, hitting all the right spots, its tip brushing your g-spot with every movement, facilitated by how beautifully curved upwards his length is.

You kick your head back, looking at Minho’s reflection in the mirror, a smile spreading on your face when you see his furrowed eyebrows and focused expression as he watches how your tits bounce with every thrust.

“D’you like it?”, you purr, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “You like watching yourself as you fuck me?”

And Minho whimpers, hips snapping to meet yours. “Yes- fuck.”, he swears. “I like looking at you more, though. So fucking sexy.”, he compliments you, continuing to fuck you a bit faster now that he’s sure he won’t cum too soon.

The room is filled with moans - yours, Minho’s, even Jisung hums contently from time to time, eyes set on where Minho’s body is connected to yours. He bites his lips at the sight of your pretty pussy lips spread around Minho’s thick length, and he can only imagine how tight you feel. He bets you’re dripping on the sheets, and he can’t wait to fuck you once Minho’s done with you. Right now, however, he needs to relieve some of the tension he’s feeling - cock painfully hard in his fist.

“Think you can take care of me as well, jagiya?” Jisung asks you, lazily pumping his cock. “Think you can make me cum while Minho fucks you?”

You nod, and Minho thinks he’s about to pass out - fucking you and seeing you focused on making Jisung cum at the same time? This is even better than his fantasies. “I can, baby, you know I can. I can take care of you always.”, you whine, eager to touch your boyfriend’s cock.

Minho’s cock is pretty and he surely knows how to use it - but Jisung’s is your favorite. Long and thick enough, a long vein decorating the underside of it, and a dark pink tip - perfect. Perfect for you to wrap your hand around, perfect to take in your mouth - in your throat, actually, until your nose is completely buried in Jisung’s soft pubic hair, just how he likes it, before he’s shooting in your mouth.

“That’s right, jagi.” Jisung caresses your cheek, brushing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he gets closer. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you, so fucking lucky you’re mine.” It feels almost weird to hear these words come out of Jisung’s mouth when you have another man’s cock inside of you, but you know he means it, and you know he’s right. You’re his. “Now open that pretty little mouth of yours, my jagiya.”

You do, and then you feel his cockhead brush on your open mouth, before entering it. Minho doesn’t stop moving inside of you - eyes set on the image of you giving your boyfriend a blowjob while he’s fucking you. He has to grip your waist with his fingers to balance himself as he continues to thrust, eyes flicking from your stuffed mouth to the mirror, then back on your mouth and back on the mirror.

“One cock’s not enough, mh?” Jisung mumbles, running his fingers through your hair. You slowly shake your head, humming. “Such a pretty little slut, isn’t she?” Jisung moans, turning his head to look at Minho, as you continue to suck on his tip - your fingers wrapping around the rest of his length to jerk him off.

“The prettiest.” Minho bites his lip, still pounding inside of you. “She’s so tight, Han.”, he huffs, muffling a sound.

Jisung grins. “I know.”, he chuckles. “You should try her mouth next. Feels like heaven.”

“Better than her pussy?” Minho pants.

Jisung scoffs. “Yah, don’t be ridiculous, hyung. Nothing feels better than that pretty little cunt.”

It’s funny - that they’re having this kind of conversation while they’re both inside of you at the same time. It makes you hum around Jisung’s dick, which sends a shiver down his spine. You can feel he’s close, and that encourages you to cup his hot, heavy balls with your hand, knowing it’ll send him over the edge in record time.

“God, jagi, you’re gonna make me cum.”, he breathes, kicking his head back as his whole body tenses. “Wanna cum on your tits. You gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”, he rambles and nearly slurs his words, already seeing white. You hum once again, and he pulls away from your mouth, wrapping his own hands around his cock as he strokes himself swiftly.

It’s a sight that blesses Minho’s eyes - Jisung’s cum paints the soft flesh of your tits mere seconds later, decorating your skin, some of it landing directly on your nipples, and as much as it sounds absolutely crazy in his mind, Minho feels the urge to lick them clean. Wrap his lips around your soft, sensitive nubs and suck them clean. It makes his cock throb inside of you.

Jisung wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand as he tries to regain his breath as his cock softens, still glistening in his own cum and your saliva. Minho can’t fucking wait to have your lips wrapped around his cock, too. The mere thought is enough to make his cock twitch once more.

“Fuck, I think- I think I’m close.” Minho mumbles, tightening the grip on your hip as he fucks you harder now. “Can I- fuck, can I-“

“You can do whatever you want.”, you pant, already feeling the familiar sensation in your lower belly as he mercilessly pounds into you, thick, veiny cock stretching you out so good you nearly see stars. “Fuck, Minho, do something, anything.”

Minho’s hands travels all over your body - his fingers smear Jisung’s cum on your tits as he collects some of it on his pads. Then, his fingers reach your mouth, and you gladly welcome them when he shoves them in your mouth, tasting your boyfriend’s cum off of his best friend’s fingers. Meanwhile, Minho’s thrusts turn unsteady and erratic. You’re both so, so close.

“Where can I cum? Fuck, I’m so close, where-“

“Inside of her.” Jisung speaks, and you nod eagerly.

“Inside, Min. I want it inside.”

Minho cums inside of you, with his hand gently wrapped around his throat - eyes set on your reflections in the mirror doors, watching how your eyes roll in the back of your head and your lips part as you release around him, your walls squeezing him tight, milking him until he gives you all of his cum until the very last drop.

The sight is so fucking hot Jisung’s hard again.

Minho’s movements come to an abrupt halt, and you’re both panting heavily, trying to regain your breath and consciousness. He’s careful when he pulls out - your legs are still shaking and you’re pretty sensitive, he doesn’t want to overstimulate you, he doesn’t know you actually love it.

Luckily, your boyfriend does.

An evil grin appears on Jisung’s face. “Why don’t you lick Minho clean, jagi?”, he suggests, and you eagerly nod, despite being exhausted. “I bet he’d love it.”, he grins at his friend, who’s still pretty dazed from his orgasm.

Minho nods nonetheless, and kneels right next to you so that his now half-limp cock is close to your mouth. You nearly don’t realize Jisung’s presence between your legs, lying flat on his stomach, staring at your creampied pussy and biting his lip at the sight of Minho’s cum dripping from your hole.

You wrap your lips around Minho’s cockhead at the same time Jisung places his tongue flat on your hole and laps at it. “Mhh, Minho tastes good, jagi, doesn’t it?” Jisung huffs against your lips, continuing to lap at your folds, tasting your orgasm mixed with his friend’s.

“So good, baby.”, you hum, pulling out Minho’s cock from your mouth. Then, you look at the older boy and lick your lips. “Wanna find out how Jisung tastes like?”, you ask him.

Minho really shouldn’t be nodding so eagerly.

You chuckle, collecting some of Jisung’s cum from your chest with your digits, bringing them closer to Minho’s mouth. He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around them, humming as he sucks Jisung’s cum off your fingers, swallowing it greedily.

“You liked it?”, you giggle, and Minho nods - full-blow pupils, absolutely sexdrunk. “I think you should lick it off of me, then. Here.”

Minho licks Jisung’s cum off your chest, and Jisung licks Minho’s cum off your stuffed pussy.

You chuckle, running your fingers through Minho’s hair as he hums against your skin, swallowing every single drop until you’re completely clean. “Good boys.”, you praise them, and they both whimper. Predictable.

Jisung lifts his head, lips a bit smeared with both your and Minho’s cum. “Jagi, I need to fuck you now, please.”, he practically begs, staring at you with big, doe eyes. You nod, smiling at him. “On your tummy.” Jisung instructs, and you nod once more.

“This, hyung,” Jisung starts, gripping your hips and positioning your body so that your ass is up and your face flat on the mattress, looking at Minho as he speaks “is the exact reason why we’ve got mirror doors on our wardrobe.”

Jisung spits on his palm and pumps his cock a couple of times before aligning his tip to your entrance. Minho looks at you in the mirror.

“So I can look at her fucked out expression while I give it to her from behind.”

🪞

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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jealous girl — basketball!abby anderson au

synopsis: when the other girls on your cheer squad relentlessly show interest in your girlfriend, the captain of the basketball team — you feel the undying urge to claim her as yours and yours only.

♪ jealous girl — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: reader is a cheerleader / athletic, girl drama, alcohol, reader gets very possessive, jealousy and insecurity for no reason tbh, angst??? reader cries a bunch what’s new, smut, use of strap on, housewife kink, dom top abby, sub bottom reader, a little bit of overstim if you squint? fem reader, lmk if i missed anything!

an: omg hi! i’m so nervous to post this omg. i hope you like the route i took this down! reader can be kind of annoying but stick with it. minors you are not welcome here so don’t interact and ageless blogs you will be blocked. also please don’t ask for a part two! there will not be one! anyways hope you enjoy it bbs ! likes and reblogs welcome ♡

Winner. Scholar. First place.

And that was just the first shelf of Abby’s trophy cabinet. She’d been given the premier student accommodation. You know, the apartments they reserve for their most promising students. Sleek grey cabinets and polished floors, a kitchen to die for — it was no wonder you were barely ever at your own shitty little dorm. Every tri coloured ribbon that hung proudly beside her winnings wore a gleaming gold pendant on the end — just another display of her success. Walking around her sleek scholar apartment was so familiar to you that the glimmering display cabinet barely caught your eye anymore, but each time it did it welcomed a blossom of pride in your chest for your girlfriend, Abby Anderson.

Abby — casual rugby player, frequent at the boxing society, known for wooing her professors into raising her grades by showing up with her own engraved golf club to their country club and wowing them with her swing. But she was known for one thing and one thing only around campus, and that was being the captain of the basketball team.

She was ruthless, six feet and two inches of pure muscle and willpower on the court. The blonde braid, her trademark, swishing against her toned back — and if you’re seeing it, it’s because she’s already passed you with the ball that you had just bounced. You were no stranger to the sound of the orange ball thudding against laminate floors, and the squeaking of sneakers. Infact, it’s what brought the two of you together. No, you were not on the basketball team. You, were a cheerleader.

Not the captain, although that would have been beautifully cliche; the basketball ball team captain dating the captain of the cheerleading squad — take a shot every time you read the word captain, no seriously, quickest way to get wasted. You were happy that way, however. When you weren’t dancing, you were shy by nature. The change in your demeanour was a shock to the system every time — countless frat douches and friendly party goers stepping away wide eyed when they’d approach you, hoping for cheerleader charm and instead being met with a flustered squeak. It took a while for Abby to get through to you infact, as you can imagine — being a campus celebrity and all — approaching the shy girl was a mission she was willing to try again and again at, warming you up until you were eating right out of her big coarse palm.

The memory of your first meeting was still something that made her chuckle. She’d been crushing on you for a while before even saying a word — stealing heated glances at you whilst you were dancing or being tossed in the air — whilst you of course were convinced you had hallucinated The Abby Anderson acknowledging your existence. She was tired of stiffening up at your demure glances and flustered smiles directed at her, so all but marched over to you after winning a huge game. Pumped full of adrenaline, chest heaving as she chased her breath — you in her laser vision. You noticed the hair stuck to her forehead before she even spoke, the shape of an S.

“Hi—”

“I’m Abby.” She breathed out, like a total loser — she’d add.

“I… I know. I’m—”

“I know. Let me take you out. Please?” Don’t beg, Abby. “I asked your roommate if you liked girls.” You did not have to tell her that, jheez. Creep much?

“Oh…?” You couldn’t seem to close your mouth, trying to process what was happening and happening fast. For a moment you questioned whether you’d taken a tumble on that last cartwheel, currently blacked out on the floor in a concussion-hazed dream. Ooh, maybe Abby is carrying you to the infirmary.

“You can say no.” She rambled. She looked nervous for a moment and when you started to smile, so did she. “But… don’t.”

So you didn’t.

Abby was a dream. After you’d said yes, her confidence was slammed back into her and she was busying herself with planning ways to make you hers. She was confident and naturally dominant (Opening regular doors for you, opening car doors for you, hand on your lower back when you walked together…) without being arrogant. Humble, whilst holding herself with a presence that commanded nothing short of respect. She’d taken you for milkshakes for your first date, and you’d clicked instantly. Abby did everything right, which made your face hot and stomach clench up in nerves at the idea of doing something wrong infront of her. But that feeling melted away, the only two people in the small but admirable diner — Abby carrying the conversation for long enough until your shyness melted away, catching yourself in giggle fuelled rambles and debates.

You’d kissed her on the cheek at the end of the first date. So innocent, so sweet — she remembers thinking. She let you have that, didn’t try and go in for a kiss on the lips, stood outside your building. She was happy with her decision when you pulled back and just looked so fucking proud of yourself for taking such a leap. You exchanged some kind words, some gratitude with the small and humble bouquet Abby had showed up at your door with tucked under your arm — before you were flouncing away in your little sundress. Abby touched her hot cheek when she walked away, smiling ear to ear. Her fingertips grazed over a slightly sticky outline, and she picked up her pace to get home so that she could look in the mirror and catch the sight of your lipstick print on her face.

Current day, and you’re puffing out your cheeks — stepping into the sweaty auditorium. The humidity is a little stifling and you frown in disapproval, wondering when they’re going to be getting the fans fixed like they said they would. This time, tucked beneath your arm is Abby’s white water bottle, college logo printed along the side, that she’d left in your dorm when she’d dropped by the night before. Your eyes searched the room to spot her, and it didn’t take long as she pretty much towered over everyone — you stopped for a moment at the edge of the sports floor, chest inflamed by the sight of your squad members surrounding her, giggling.

You hate to say it, but whatever stereotype or rumour you’d heard about cheerleaders is true. Especially at your college, there was something so criminally But, I’m a Cheerleader (1999) about your squad in particular. You didn’t like to get involved in the drama, but sapphic drama was not unfamiliar to you. It was bizarre, everyone was friends — but their sporty girlfriends from outside of the team were getting passed around like peas. Abby had always been an object of their affection, but before you had started dating her she seemed out of reach — due to the fact the blonde quite literally never even glanced their way, too focused on the game, and whispers of ‘Abby doesn’t date sports team girls’ around campus. Since the two of you had been together, what — 10 months now? It seems to have refilled their confidence in being able to win her over, regardless of how you felt about it.

It was never direct. To anyone else, the group of you seemed like great friends — and you were the number one flyer, needing you as the centre piece for every dance. You were happy to get chucked in the air so long as they caught you, so as you can imagine; that element mixed with your shyness forced you into not confronting them all for flirting with Abby.

"No but if I had arms like this? Whew, no one would be safe. I'd be a slut... I mean I already am..." The cheer captain, Liv spoke, the other dancers squealing in agreement. Abby looked uncomfortable to say the least, forcing a polite smile and trying to wedge herself out the small hyena circle they had formed around her. A blossom of pride filled your chest when you saw the sheer relief in her eyes, her gaze landing on you. You surged forward into the light, smiling awkwardly at your peers as you approached your girlfriend. She bounced the orange ball on the ground once before tucking it under her arm, other bulging arm bringing you in for a quick hug. "Hi, baby." She chirped, happy to see you.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but couldn't ignore the disapproving gazes from behind Abby's back, their faux-friendly smiles turning to not so subtle glances and snickers toward each other. Just ignore them. Abby didn't pay them any mind so why should you?

"Hi Abs." You lowered your voice, like you were hoping they'd get the hint and give you two privacy. They stuck around like flies, much to your disappointment. "You left your bottle at my dorm. Didn't want you to get dehydrated agai—"

"Awwww, you guys are so cute!" The bleach blonde base leader appeared beside your girlfriend, obnoxiously butting in and making a point to rest her hand on Abby's bicep. "I want what you have." She pout, but you couldn't help but feel that comment was directed more toward you.

"Oh—thanks." You chuckle, not quite meeting her eye. Abby took the bottle from you, shooting you a subtle ‘wtf?’ look which made you wanna giggle.

"Oh you refilled it, nice. Was so fuckin' thirsty." She smoothed a hand over your head gratefully as she brought the bottle to her lips and chugged, stepping away to address her team, their practice ending for the day, giving the cheerleaders the space to rehearse for tomorrow. "Alright team, circle up I got a few pointers." You heard her command, smiling as you watched her team members gather around her obediently. You snapped your eyes away toward the girl still stood by you, eyes slightly narrowed as she observed you. She looked away when you noticed her intense gaze.

As much as you hated to see Abby leave without you, it always brought you some kind of relief — knowing that your squad could actually focus on what you were there for, cheerleading — instead of fawning over your girlfriend, giggling, bending over in her direction to 'tie their laces'. You knew dating Abby would bring a lot of attention, and you knew that there must have been plenty of girls that were after her — but this whole thing with your own squad was getting pretty old. Sometimes you wished you weren't so shy, so you could give them a real stern talking to. You didn't wanna put it all on Abby, it wasn't fair, she didn't ask for this and plus it was your problem. You didn't wanna be that jealous and possessive girlfriend, did you?

The next day, Friday rolled around fast.

It took a lot to shake Abby’s confidence. She knew she was good at what she did, otherwise she wouldn’t be on such a prestigious scholarship, or have acquired the team captain title so fast — but she was nervous. The impending game was a big one, there was no room for fuck up’s. There had been talk of scouters for top women’s basketball leagues joining the audience, and Abby knew that if things went well it could really put her on the map, no — it was guaranteed.

Your eyes were fluttering closed, heavy after the long day you’d had perfecting your routine with the team. You were in your shabby little dorm, practically a hole in comparison to Abby’s sleek apartment. More times than not you’d stay with your girlfriend, calm eachothers nerves before a big game — but you had mutually decided that you’d both needed to ensure a perfect night’s sleep. Your phone laid beside your head on your pillow, the glow of Abby’s contact picture lighting up the small space around it. She was breathing slow and calm on the other line, clearly tired herself.

“And then you can come and stay at mine tomorrow after the game, and stuff.” She hummed, the sound of her shifting positions, her bedsheets rustling taking over the audio for just a moment.

“Mhm. ‘Can celebrate your win.” You smile, eyes now closed as you picture it all, nervous butterflies batting their wings against your stomach.

“Or mourn my loss.” She chides. “You can still come over either way.” Abby chuckles but it’s dry and humourless. She always got this way before a game, just a little pessimistic — doubting herself subtly through sly jokes and quiet comments. To anyone else, she’d still appear just as confident and carefree — but you knew Abby.

“Abs, don’t say that. Y’gonna win. Simple as.” You exhale, feeling your body sink further and further into the pillow. She was silent for a moment, considering it — probably doubting everything that had just come out your mouth, this time in her head.

“Hm.” You listened to her breathing, and it made you sleepier. “You’re tired baby. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You wanted to protest, be there for her and soothe her nerves for a little longer until she felt ready to sleep but her voice was lulling you into a dozed state.

“You sure? I can… stay…” You could barely finish your sentence, making her chuckle tiredly.

“Yes, pretty girl. Gotta get your rest for tomorrow. Need you cheering me on up there, helps me play better.” She was smiling, you could hear it. Your heart swelled and you made a happy humming sound to after.

“Night Abby, seeyoutomorrowloveyou.” You sigh out in one breath.

“Night baby. Get some rest. I love you.”

The opening intro to Fergie’s — Fergalicious blared through the auditorium, your squad occupying half the court as you danced for the screaming crowd. Hips, hips, split jump, cartwheel — behind your bright smile you were counting steps, keeping your arms tight and straight, flickering your eyes towards the scoreboard. You looked properly as you stood on top of the pyramid, ankle by your head — burst of adrenaline and relief when your eyes landed on the numbers in glowing red, signifying that Abby’s team was still in the lead. You gracefully flipped, and were caught back on the ground, heart thundering in your chest as you continued on with the dance.

As rehearsed, the college mascot had run on, joining in on the dance. A ridiculous looking wolf with a brightly coloured t-shirt and cap on its furry head. He danced beside you, comedically shaking it’s hips in time with you. You glanced over at Abby, happy to see her looking eased, a slight smile on her face as she jogged away from the net, watching you dance. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face from sweating and it reminded you of the day she asked you out.

63-63 with three minutes to spare.

Your squad tried not to show that they were itching from the sidelines, eyes glued to the players as you were lined up by the benches, waving pom poms now and shouting your usual chants, trying not to get drowned out by the passionate yelling of the audience.

Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! I said be aggressive B-E aggressive! B-E A G G - R E S S I V E! Whooping the house down show ‘em who’s the leader — bring ya’ baby down down, go cheerleader!

You tried to keep your grin as you chant, moving your hips in time with your claps and arm movements as you watched Abby’s team mate miss the net, ball rebounding off the backboard. You caught a glimpse of the frustrated expression on Abby’s face, jogging around players and yelling directions over the crowd that seemed deafening at this point. You watched her eyes rake through the audience, looking for a talent scout shaking her head and drawing a big red cross on her clipboard or something. Her eyes then found you, a inkling of panic that was calmed by the tide that was your face staring right back at her, smile still plastered as you repeat your chants with your group. The sight of you surged something through her, she had to do it for you.

63-63 with two minutes to spare.

“Don’t worry guys, Abby’s got this.” Liv twinkled proudly, like the blonde captain even knew her name and you felt sick. Sick with nerves, sick with possessiveness, sick with irritation. You stomped your feet that little bit louder whilst you cheered, wanting to dash your pompoms at her head. You felt sweat trickling down your spine, head starting to pound from all the tension and noise. Was the crowd getting even louder? Where did you put your water bottle?

63-63 with one minute to spare, and there was no time to drink.

Even the chants stopped, the squad trailing off just to watch in awe. The sound barrier practically broke when the ball came to a thudding halt, caught mid pass by none other than Abby Anderson, basketball hero. This other team were good, frighteningly so — but they were no match for her. She dribbled with precision in and out of players until she met a wall of her opposition, closing in on her fast to snatch the ball. She turned left, turned right, looking for someone on her team she could rely on to get the ball in the net. The coach yelled from the side, the cheerleaders gripped eachother, the audience stood on their feet. Abby’s knees bent, arms extending. Everything went slow motion, like it always did as you watched with wide eyes. The ball didn’t circle round the hoop, it didn’t slide down from the backboard, it slammed straight through the net so hard you thought when it landed it might leave a dent in the ground.

63-64— and the crowd fucking exploded.

You were immediately jostled to the side by your squad jumping up and down, grabbing eachother with screams. You stumbled, jaw agape trying to catch sight of her. Where are you Abby? Let me see you.

She was suddenly there, expression mirroring yours. The world still moved slow, spotting eachother now. She took off toward you, dodging the grasp of a celebratory cheerleader, skidding past a team member that tried to pull her in, straight toward you. You met her half way, feet in control now and leapt, Abby getting the same idea and thrusting her arms around your waist, swinging you round in a circle. Then, you could both smile, and it didn’t stop growing, not even when you smashed your lips together. There was no sound anymore, no screaming crowd or cheering squad members — just your own delighted giggle against her, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, the back of her hot, sweaty neck in your palm, your teeth clashing together at the force of the kiss.

You pulled away to breathe and the sound returned like you’d just come back up from underwater, the yells, the cheers, the chanting of her name. “I did it I fucking— do you know what this— baby, i did it.” She was panting, forehead pressed to yours and hell, you couldn’t care less that it seemed the world was watching such an intimate moment.

“Your life’s gonna change Abby, i’m so proud of you.” You breathed, and before she could reply — expression of awe, and utter love struck, she was setting you down and her team was tearing her away, lifting her above their head, passing her another big golden trophy to add to her shelf. She held it in the air, and then came the flashing of cameras, the barrage of students running to celebrate with her. A cheerleader from the other team roughly brushed your shoulder as she passed you with a glare and you didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, just watching on with pride — hands clasped beneath your chin. Your Abby had won, and nothing else in that moment mattered.

8:04PM

“Is it braggy if I wear the jersey on top?” She was smirking a little, stood in front of you in all her glory in her apartment. You spun around at the vanity, eyes taking her in as you pulled your little pink dress further down your thighs.

Your girlfriend was showered, and dressed — donning her bright blue jersey over her grey hoodie and jeans. You grinned, standing up. She looked good, but she always looked good. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around her neck. “Don’t you think you deserve to brag, a little?” You flutter your eyelashes, tilting your head with a grin.

After every game that was won, a party was thrown at the house of one of the sports captains. It was tradition, and almost always it was in Abby’s honour, because she was almost always the star of every game. The one to think of a genius formation that would throw off the other team, the one to make changes last minute that would be the saving grace, the one to make the winning shot. Today was like no other, and you knew everyone was willing to go extra hard this time — after that win, Abby was like a fucking celebrity.

You felt like you were hit with a shockwave of noise as soon as you walked in. The bass from the speaker was all but vibrating the floorboards, the sticky…wet (?) floorboards. You blinked, accustoming yourself to the low lights, clinging onto Abby’s thick bicep as a swarm of people coming to greet her approached. Sometimes parties felt like survival, Abby being that buoy in a storm that you’d cling to until the tide had cleared. The music was loud as usual, familiar, what was the song playing? You recognised the familiar tune to Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain and nodded your head with a false confidence. Drink, I need a drink — you thought, detaching yourself from Abby to beeline to the makeshift bar once you’d spotted it. Not the punch, you weren’t stupid — you had no clue what people had put in there. Vodka… vodka where are you? You grabbed the clear bottle with the red lid and poured yourself a generous amount into your cup before filling the rest up with… what were your options— cranberry juice. Nice. This will get you by. You needed social skills tonight, Abby had won a huge game and you didn’t wanna drag her down with your shyness. You sipped, no — downed some of your drink with a wince, some liquid spilling down your chin. Alter ego activate, shyness be gone.

You found Abby again, and when she spotted you awkwardly trying to wedge yourself through a gap to get to her she slotted her arm through, parting the sea of people like Moses himself to pull you right up beside her, torso to her ribs. You could stay like this, right up on her— you wanted to stay like this, but you’ll be damned if your girlfriend wasn’t social.

It’s an hour later, you’re drunk, laughing at something dumb Manny had come up with, social for once — and you hear them before you see them. The gaggle. The malicious giggles, pitched just a little higher than their real laugh in an attempt to turn heads. It works, you turn, there stand your cheerleader friends. ‘Friends’.

You can tell they went hard with the pregaming because they’re clinging onto eachother, forcing their way through the party crowd like a cluster of germs. That’s mean, you think to yourself, shaking off that feeling — the ugly feeling rising in your stomach like scalding bile. Insecurity, the feeling immovable even when you’re drunk and joyous, lodged into you seemingly forever, an arrow with spikes. You push it down, push it down, push it down as they squeal and come towards you. It flares up with immense force when you catch their outfits. They’re all wearing ‘Anderson’ jerseys. Did they fucking buy personalised jerseys?

It’s like you step out of yourself for a moment because you reach out and take a hold of the jersey across the cheer captains chest, turning her around and pulling the material taut as you see ‘Anderson’ in crisp white font across her back, mocking you. Your mouth is agape, unfocused and she steadies herself, turning back around and grabbing you.

“You like ‘em?” She whoops and all the girls join her, fondling their jerseys proudly and looking around for more eyes.

“Personalised jerseys?” Is all you manage to let out, just a simple observation. Liv falters for a second, something mischievous twinkling in her eye, lip curling up ever so slightly.

“Baaabe, the manufacturer f’ed up our order, and we fell one short. But we figured you’d have your own one right?” She eyes you obviously. Her malice is hardly hidden anymore. “Abby didn’t give you her jersey?” She tilts her head, as if it were an innocent question. You bitc—

“Abby!” The copper haired girl behind her squeals and you don’t have to turn around to know your girlfriend has unknowingly made her presence clear and accessible. The troupe practically rush you, shoving past to circle Abby once more. The uncomfortable look the blonde had yesterday in the court was gone, the one drink she’d been harbouring all night loosening her up a little — which made that insecure, jealous feeling nestle itself back beneath your ribcage.

“Heeeey— ohhh, awesome!” She smiles in a friendly way when she notices their jerseys. The same friendly expression she’d give to anyone, not flirty or lusty in the slightest — but they’re grabbing at her and batting their lashes up at her like they want to jump on her there and then and you feel yourself trying to crush the red solo cup in your palm. You’re broken out of your enraged trance because your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend is pulling you through the crowd they made, grinning without a care in the world. “You see this babe? Ah, should have given you my one to wear huh?” She laughs, and they laugh, but for different reasons.

The girls leave her alone for a while, but God they’re always fucking watching. Finding ways to subtly interact with your girlfriend. Accidentally bumping into her, which she barely notices until they start profusely apologising. Dance moves becoming inherently more sexy when she turns in their direction — not even looking at them but oh do they try. You finish your drink, because you need to finish your drink— and succumb to the urge to be that girlfriend. Who gives a fuck? Maybe you are that girlfriend.

It didn’t feel like you when you impatiently tugged her away from Nora, another basketball player, mid conversation, hands clasped in Abby’s silky jersey, pulling yourself to her chest, your own tits squishing against her.

“Aaabs.” You whine, and it’s giddy, lustful because she just looks so good. She smirks down at you, letting you tug at her, letting you move her. She looks so into you in that moment and it just… somethings not enough. You’re glancing for your cheer team, and that hideous feeling of shame briefly twinges inside you. Are they watching this? Seeing me touch you? Do they know you’re mine?

“Baby.” She’s returning your giddy smile, and you have to pull away from a moment so that you could back up a little… a little more into the clearing… give them a perfect view.

“Y’look so good.” Is all you can say because it’s true, and you’re pretty sure your eyes completely glazed over— pupils shooting out wide when she grabs a handful of your ass, a little rough but in a loving way, just like the Abby you’re used to — using her grip to pull you back into her hard, a small ‘hmph!’ whimper forced out of you when you all but slam into her strong chest. You love it when she got like this. Grabby. Forgetting her own strength and manhandling you. You’d usually be giggling and shoving her away in public, but you craved the eyes now. You wanted viewers, jealous gazes, realisations — Abby is locked in.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She’s chuckling at your expression. Forever her needy girl.

You sucked in your lower lip, eyes melting into that doe eyed expression that made her want to fuck it off your face, and she squeezes your ass a little harder. Your knees practically buckle, face burning hot because you feel your pussy spread open under your dress — as if she’s opening the floodgates by hand, wetness pouring out into your underwear. You hoped and prayed they were watching. Screw your little Anderson jerseys, she’s gonna be knuckle deep inside me in five minutes if the two of you kept this up.

“Cant wait to— mm—” You turn your head. Liv is snickering, whispering, but her expression says it all. Jealousy. You feel victorious. Abby curls a finger around your chin and your distracted gaze is back on her.

“Cant wait to what?” She glances in the direction of what you were staring at and your heart skips a beat.

“Can’t wait for you to remind me what a winner feels like.” You breathe out quickly and she’s back, smirking hard like she can’t control it. If she was packing, she’d be tilting her hips forward by now, digging her strap into the mound of your cunt through your thin dress where you stood — and it makes her wish she did pull the harness up her thick thighs beneath her jeans before the two of you left for the party.

“Yeah?” Her voice is breathy, low. “Forgotten already?” She chuckles, and she’s kind of right to— she was always winning, it wasn’t easy to forget.

“Mhm. Oops.” You shrug and you both giggle this time, her hands sliding around your waist. Each time her hands find a new spot on her you can’t help yourself from glancing over at the eyes. At Liv. At the whispers. Get a good fucking look.

Abby leans in, hot breath on your cheek and you turn back to her nearly knocking noses. Her brows are frowned a little and her cheeks rosy, lips parted in a way that made you wanna shove your tongue between them. “Give me… a little while longer to bask in this.” She chuckles, humble like she always was. She steals a kiss from your parted lips. “Can’t leave a party thrown for me so soon… just a little longer and I’ll take you home and give you a reminder, pretty girl.” her blunt finger nails rake behind your ear, scraping whatever hair was there backwards, pecking you again. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, hot and lethargic. You wanted to be obedient but something still negged at you, buzzed in your ear like a fly to ‘stay focused’.

You gripped her strong arms. An attempt at control.

“Don’t have to leave. Can just go upstairs. Right here right now.” You whined in an impatient way this time, fingers curling around her hoodie peeking from beneath her jersey. She blinked a few times and you knew she wasn’t a huge fan— Abby never liked quickies, especially not on a celebration. She wanted each time she fucked you to be memorable, like a performance — she was a love maker, and to her public quickies were usually just a little… euck.

Her soft smile remained, because the request only told her that you were desperate to have her. All the more reason to make you wait, she thought. Get you real worked up. Yeah, she could have fun with this.

“Not happening, babe. Wanna take my time on you, don’t you wanna have it out with me all night?” She tilted her head, persuading, blowing hot air over your mouth and God — yes, on one hand you wanted that badly but there you go again… eyes trailing off to the right… over to your cheer group. Show them. Drag me up the stairs Abby. Make me walk out the bathroom limping. Show them what they can’t have.

So you said “No!” and you were one quick movement from actually stomping your foot like a child. Abby looked taken aback, but she still chuckled. Not in a mean way, but was it ever? She leant back from you, trying to gauge just what was going on.

“No?”

“I need you here. You… stop denying me they’ll — they’ll see— it’s embarrassing—” The shovels in your hand and you’re digging that hole, deeper, deeper…

“Who will see? See what? Babe what’s with you?” The smile melts off and she’s frowning now. Ohhh, boy. You’ve fucked it up. You blink, like you’re trying to wake up from your petty possession. You look once more and they’re intrigued now, gossiping. Are they fighting? Will Abby be single by the end of the night? This enrages you more, but you don’t have time to react because Abby sees it now. See’s that envious look in your eye, but it’s not really envy — because Abby has never in her life given you a reason to be jealous. It’s uncharacteristic and Abby’s stomach twists a little. “Oh.” She steps back, no no no.

“Sorry.” You splutter out. “Sorry, sorry— I’m sorry Abby I don’t know what that was. I just freaked. I want you to bask in this, people are here to celebrate and you deserve that. Sorry. I don’t… know what I was thinking there.” You try and force out a chuckle at the end to lighten things but it doesn’t come out quite right. Abby watches you for a moment, a little tense and worried. Eventually she gives you a small smile, coming close to you again, a hand on your shoulder.

“S’okay. No more drinks yeah?” She’s gentle and you’re embarrassed, of everything really. This is meant to be the greatest night of Abby’s college career and you’re… doing this. Making it about you. Your shoulders slump a little before you shake yourself off physically.

“Yeah, no. Good call. Whew.” You smile and she smiles back. It’s all okay. You’re okay.

Except it’s not, and she knows that. Things are a little weird now, you’re distracted and trying too hard to please her. Eyes snapping towards her guiltily every time she catches your gaze wandering off, as if scared she’ll see you looking at those girls again fearfully. You stay right by her side, shyness creeping back in. You’re smiling in a polite, forced way, and she can tell you’re not really enjoying yourself anymore. Not after that weird moment. It gets a little later, and the party isn’t in as full of swing as it was before but still pretty lively. She can’t enjoy herself if you’re not, so why bother?

You watch her watch you, her shoulders dropping slightly when she sees how tense you look. Truthfully you were worried, you’d tried to show off — let your possessive urges control you — and now, insecurities at the surface you’d seem to make things worse. You didn’t know why you’d let this pick at you, get under your skin the way it has but the fact they’d all seen you have that weird moment? It was eating you alive. They were probably so smug, probably thought they stood a chance with Abby now. Your Abby.

“Babe let’s just go.” Your attention snaps back towards her, suddenly stood in front of you— her braid resting on her shoulder.

“What?”

“Yeah, no it’s— I can’t enjoy myself if you’re not. I’m not mad, baby I just don’t wanna force you to be here.” You feel so fucking bad.

“Abby, it’s not — I am enjoying myself. This is your party.” You express, coming close to her. Most of the alcohol had worn off by now, and you just felt sick from embarrassment— and this conversation was even more sobering. She shrugs, and looks around. It no longer seems to interest her.

“I know but… I’d rather you just be… not in this mood.” She speaks quietly but you hear her and your face falls. Did you really show yourself up that badly?

“Alright.” You match her pitch, and her back is to you again — saying goodbyes. You can’t look up, can’t look and see their disappointed faces. You wish you could close your ears, to not hear the choruses of ‘Already?’s and ‘Cmon Abby this is your party!’s. But you couldn’t keep your forlorn gaze glued to the ground for long, because you knew people would look at you, see your expression and know it’s your fault she’s leaving prematurely. You cursed yourself for caring too much about what people thought that night, and smiled politely in departure.

Abby took your hand, fingers locked into yours as she walked you toward the door, saying bye to people as she continued moving. You made the mistake of sparing your cheer team a departing look, and they were watching once more — glancing at each other curiously. Liv wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you passed her. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.” She snickered, and your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t start crying until the car was half way down the street. You’d tried to keep it silent at first. But the car was already silent, the radio not turned on and Abby not saying anything. You didn’t know what the silence meant, you just knew you didn’t like it. Maybe she was reconsidering things. You’d ruined her night, the night that was supposed to be all hers and you took it from her — all because of your petty, jealous, insecurities. That wasn’t the kind of girlfriend she deserved, you were supposed to put all your focus into supporting her. Exist for her. She’d never given you a reason to worry about other girls but for fucks sake — those girls. You let them walk all over you every single day and now they were all talking. All coming up with schemes to take Abby from you, thinking your relationship was on the rocks and maybe it would work. After how you acted tonight, maybe it would fucking work.

You covered your face when the tears started really coming down hard, a quiet sob shuddering out of you. Abby glanced at you, jaw tensing a little. Not because she was angry, just because she was so confused about how you’d gotten here. She’d never seen you like this before and just… what had she done to get you so fucked up like this? She spoke your name, calmly — full of authority and a little detached, not cooing it gently like she would when she’s seen you cry in the past. Her tone made another sob hiccup out, and she spoke it again. “Look at me.”

You did, and you had to wipe the snot from beneath your nose so that it didn’t stick to your hands when you pulled them away. Your makeup was ruined, eyes sore and red and she glanced over you, her main focus on the road.

“Just… breathe and calm down. We are gonna talk about this when we get home.” She shakes her head a little, eyes on the road. Your heart aches and soothes a little at her calling her student apartment ‘home’ like it belonged to the both of you. You don’t have time to indulge the fantasy. “I don’t… understand this… tantrum babe.” She mutters like she’s too mature for it all and she is, which makes you all the more embarrassed. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, tear drops on her expensive leather seats. Well — she doesn’t speak if you don’t include the occasional “Breathe.” and such when she’d hear your breathing start to pick up, upsetting yourself all over again.

She walked you up to her apartment and you hugged yourself as you stood behind her, watching her unlock her door. She held the door open for you, but didn’t look at you when you walked through — unsurely looking around like you’d never been there before. You wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Did she want to talk now?

You stood in the hallway and her warm hands gently came down onto your shoulders.

“Go sit down on the couch.”

When Abby tells you what to do, you do it. And not because she’s scary, or intimidating or aggressive. She just carries this… air to her. One that makes you want to respect her, no matter how worked up or pissed off or upset you are. It would be the same way every single time, she’ll calmly make a demand and you fucking do it. Of course, minus the mini ‘tantrum’, as she so kindly put it, you had.

She didn’t follow you, infact — she walked the other way to her bedroom, hearing the door click shut when you made your way into her living room area. The leather couch that was usually home to so much love and affection now cold against your skin when you sit down on it, the sleek material frigid from not being touched for hours on end. You bring your knees together shivering a little, and a few minutes later Abby returns. She wields a makeup wipe, and presses it into your palm silently when she lowers herself into the arm chair opposite you. You want to cry out like a baby and reach for her, ask her why she’s sitting so far away but you have to be good. You have to fix everything.

Abby’s thighs spread as she leans forward, staring you down analytically with her elbows on her knees, long fingers wringing her wrists before she looks down at them, puffing out her cheeks with a long exhale. You wait for her to speak, wiping the gooey eye makeup up from your cheeks and eyes.

“Tell me… what this is all about.” Her voice holds a quiet kindness this time, despite the line that appears between her brows as her expression becomes a little exasperated.

You suck in a quick breath, eager to explain yourself and beg for forgiveness — “Nothing I was just being —”

“The truth.” She raised her hand to speak which silenced you instantly. You press your lips together, letting two fat residual tears race down your cheeks either side, the left tear winning victoriously when it surpassed your jaw and streamed lazily along your neck. Abby watched it move.

You thought this time. No more covering it up. No more being immature. Be truthful. What was this all about again?

“I think…” You gulped, willing yourself to be brave. You knew Abby might not see you as a ‘chill’ girlfriend anymore— exposing your insecurities and jealousy — but she wanted the truth and being a liar was objectively worse. “The girls on my cheer team are… I think they’re picking on me.” You admit quietly and her brows jump up, intrigued. Not quite what she was expecting. She stays quiet and you carry on. “I’m not… I don’t wanna be toxic and jealous. I let it get the better of me tonight. They’re always… flirting with you, talkin’ about you, showing off to you, trying to get your attention and at first I didn’t care because, I have you, you know? And you’ve never given me any reason to believe your eyes have wandered but fuck it’s so hard when they’re just… relentless. And beautiful and confident and I’m… I know what people think Abby. I know I’m shy and people wonder how…” You trail off, and you’re not sure you wanna admit any more. Not after that explosive rant.

“People wonder how what?” She pushes, and she’s scooched so far onto the edge of her seat that her long legs are bunched up and she’s barely perched on it.

“Wonder how… I got you. Why you stay with me.”

The confusion just melts off her face.

She blinks a couple of times, feeling like someone just placed her heart in a panini press hearing your sad and small tone of voice. So small, and she can tell you really believe what you’re saying and it just kills her. She wants to reach out then and there and hold you and kiss you and cry for you but you’re talking again.

“And I know you’re not a trophy and I don’t see you that way, please don’t think I ever—”

“No, no no no.” Abby cuts you off as a correction, eyes shut as she scrubs a hand down her face. She gets it now. The jealousy. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the wandering eyes of her basketball team players, smirking over at you when your little cheer skirt that was too short for everyone’s good would flip up, shaking your hips in your adorable little routines. How if she didn’t keep you on her arm at every party, frat boys would start to circle you like crows, waiting to pounce until they realise, holy shit that’s Abby’s girl, and back off. If anyone got it, it was her. “You don’t need to explain anymore I’m… sorry. Come here, please.” Her pained expression relieves you and also devastates you because now she’s blaming herself.

You listen, again, because it’s Abby and you push off the couch to stand in front of her on the arm chair. She pulls you to sit sideways on her leg, thick arms wrapping around your waist protectively. She looks up at you, brows furrowed.

“You are beautiful. I don’t… want anyone else. Ever. I love you, baby. You know I love you? You know I don’t give a fuck about any of those other girls. They’re not you they’re not… c’mon.” That gentle cooing voice has broken through and more tears slide down your raw cheeks. She’s wiping them away this time, coarse thumb swiping the moisture until it absorbs into her skin, becoming apart of her.

You sniffle, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. This is your night and you’re comforting me. I promise I’m happy for you.” You hiccup into her neck when she pulls you in, and you feel her shake her head because her braid tickles your arm.

“I don’t care.” She chuckles honestly and cups your face to pull you back, make you look at her. She’s so beautiful you want to cry some more. “I don’t. It could be my birthday and I’d still look after you. You’re my girl, yeah? You over everything.” She exaggerates, moving her head slightly to meet your eyes when you try to shamefully drift them away.

“Kay. Love you, Abby. M’so lucky.” She feels you sigh in relief and your body relaxes just a little bit. Her hands slide around your back and press into the muscle, massaging and rubbing — trying to get you to just melt and become one with her when you cuddle her.

“I’m lucky.” She speaks into your temple, pressing kisses there. She manages to gently manoeuvre you until her lips are pressing the same quick succession of kisses onto your swollen pouty lips. She hums in satisfaction and you feel something stir in your tummy. The hum was almost primal, one that said ‘this is mine.’ You wanted to hear the noise again. Without too much thought behind it, you turn to sit on her lap fully, facing her now. You pull yourself closer with your arms around her neck and your kisses begin to dot along her jawline. Come on Abby, make the pretty noise.

She sighs, tilting her head for your access and thinks. Thinks over everything that had just happened. Maybe she hadn’t done enough, her brain had been so focused on winning the game that perhaps she’d forgotten to reassure you when you needed it, and she knew how important reassurance was in a relationship. An urge spread through her body, starting in her stomach like an icy cold lake and travelling up to her chest like molten lava. The urge to just… give you everything. Everything you wanted and needed. Everything you couldn’t ask for and everything she should have given you. Abby had always harboured a ‘spoiling’ side, and in that moment it had kicked in hard.

She pulled the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting your head tip back this time as she sucked and nipped at the soft skin there. She loved how opposite you were to her, when she was sweaty and rough around the edges after a game you were still impossibly soft everywhere, still smelled sweet and clean and like you, like she was a wild lion coming to lay her cheek in your gentle hand after slaughtering a deer.

You squirmed on her lap and Abby jumped between your lips and your skin, feeling that beautifully familiar warmth begin to spread through your underwear again. Starting with your clit starting to throb when she’d gently buck her thighs below you — all the way to your hole that started to ache and crave the feeling of her inside. Her tongue lapped up your own, sucking obscenely as her hands pushed your lower back, bringing you higher on her lap and— oh?

You were now sitting atop a bulge. One that wasn’t there at the party. You thought back to her disappearing into her room as you sat down on the couch when you’d arrived back at the apartment and smiled at the feeling against her lips. So calculated, Abby — and she smiled back because she knew. Knew she was gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you after your talk, she just didn’t expect you to fold so easily. For it to take such an emotional direction. She could just tease you for being a cry baby, but where’s the fun in that?

You start to grind like you just can’t help yourself, your shared saliva pooling beneath your pouty bottom lip as the kisses became more sloppy and intense. You swore you could never get over how good it felt to hump against her jeans in just your panties, the combination of materials and the writhing of your hips always leaving you gasping. Abby too, the way the strap was positioned would press snugly against her clit making her breath stutter against your lips. She refocused herself, fingers tugging your dress up to your waist. Enough had been about her tonight she’d decided, now she wanted to make it all about you.

You detached for a moment to pull your dress over your head, lips meeting once more as she tossed it aside. Next came the unclasping of your bra, and then she was sliding your thong down your legs. When she balled it up to chuck aside she felt the wetness in her palm.

You stood over her now, the one time you weren’t shy — stark naked. She’d made you so comfortable over the ten months you’d been together it wasn’t even something you’d take a second worrying about anymore, Abby knowing the map of your body like the back of her hand. She made you feel so safe with her gentle-ness. Abby, big scary Abigail Anderson, Abby ‘i’ll beat your fucking face in if you step up to me outside the basketball court, no seriously repeat what the fuck you just said’ Anderson. And you’ve reduced her to this gentle, loving giant. Someone who was rubbing her big hand up your tummy as her thighs caged you in where you stood. Reaching for your breast and just rolling her thumb over your nipple making your legs quiver a little. All her stoicism that everyone else knew her for had melted away, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at you, touching you.

She reached up and began tugging her jersey off over her head, leaving her in the grey hoodie. Where you expected her to toss it aside with the heap that was your pink dress and underwear, she brought her attention to it, bunching it up and opening up the head hole of the shirt. “C’mere.” She muttered, standing up over you, your neck suddenly craning to meet her eye. “Put it on. Fuck those other girls cheap ass jerseys. My girl gets the real deal.” She’s speaking so quietly that you feel like she’s talking to herself, that you shouldn’t intrude her stream of thoughts — even if the words made you literally clench your hole so tight you could crush a fucking walnut in there.

She slipped it over your head and pulled your arms through the arm holes, stepping back with her hands on your shoulders so she could look at you. Look down at you. See the way you stared up at her tall frame, her jersey swamping you and resting beneath the swell of the plump under-cup of your ass cheeks. “Looking good babe.” She smiles, holding you back to carry on looking at you even when you try and lurch forward, hands loose-fisted and grabby as you try and climb all up on her again where she stood. She subdued you by taking your hand, walking away and practically dragging you along behind her. “C’mon, this way. Not fucking you on the couch.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time.

She had you on her lap again in no time, her feet planted heavily on the floor as you press into her cloaked strap, legs stretched over her thighs making you ache in that delicious way that said nothing more than ‘my girlfriend is fucking huge, the gym fears her’. Impatient, you’re tugging her hand that was cupping your throat, pushing it down, down between your thighs. She pulls away, a little breathless with her mouth all red when she slides her fingers through your cunt, eyes on your hard nipples creating little mountain peaks against her jersey as you breathe heavy in her face. “Soaked, baby. Have you been needing me like this all night?” She’s whispering before her lips are on yours again, stroking your little bundle of nerves head on, making your legs flatten out and tense in the air with a quiet yelp. “I know.” She hums, and that’s all it takes to soothe you. Yes, she knows. She always knows. It was Abby for gods sake, if anyone knew exactly what you needed… well.

After torturous stroking, Abby’s middle finger curls down right to where your hole is, pressing and massaging and teasing. She knows you want her inside, you want more than her fingers, fuck — if you could you’d just consume her whole but this will definitely do the trick. “I want you,” she starts, slurred by the open mouth kiss she’s pressing to your shoulder now. “To ask me nicely. Not like you did earlier. Show me my good girl.” She whispered, like it was one last attempt at being strict before she just gave in and spoiled you. It fooled you, anyways— your mouth falling open with a whine as her thumb pressed up against your clit.

“Please Abby— ‘ll be a good girl now okay? Wanna be your good girl.” You’re blabbering against her cheek and she doesn’t fight you on it, pushing inside you and basking in the way you give her a welcoming squeeze upon entry.

“How are you still so tight? After I’ve abused that pretty pussy so many times?” She sighs, tone suggesting that she’s actually pondering it at a moment like this. You don’t have the strength to respond, fucking against her fingers. You loved foreplay with Abby, don’t ever doubt that for a second — but tonight there was something different, it just felt like preparation. The two of you knew that tonight of all nights you needed to get fucked with her cock, and that would be the main event. She could barely wait, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t loosen you up around her callous digits first so she can slip right inside of you easily.

She slips another finger inside you and you black out a little bit, like you always do. Maybe it was all the emotions finally catching up with you, but you just go limp in her lap, letting her finger fuck you the way you need. “Prettiest girl ever. Don’t know what the fuck you were worried about. Gonna fuck it out your brain tonight, yeah?” She’s cooing again and she knows that’s your sweet spot, that tone of voice doing it for you every damn time. If anything was gonna make you cum quick, it’s gonna be the sympathetic drag of her voice as she ensures you that you don’t have to think anymore.

“Yeah Abby, please! Yeah!” You sound pornagraphic and your spine flushes hot at the idea of the surrounding students in her neighbouring apartments hearing any of this — though it wouldn’t be the first time (as told by the passive aggressive post-it note left on her door reading ‘Keep it down we don’t all need to hear your girl busting a nut.’ that one time. You didn’t live down the humiliation for a week, and Abby of course only took it as a challenge to make you moan louder despite your pleas of ‘Abby! You’re going to get kicked out of your building!’ whilst her head was in your crotch. Anyway—)

She was practically vibrating her hand at this point, fingers squelching in and out of you with sounds so mortifying that if you weren’t experiencing such euphoria perhaps you’d bury your face into her cuss her out for embarrassing you. You, were slurring a made up language made of her name, curse words and just down-right vulgarity as you felt your stomach lock up in that scaldingly familiarly way. Abby chuckled, smug at your babbling, responding with “Yeah?” and “Uh-huh?” until you were clenching hard around her fingers halting their movement slightly, which gave her the green light to move onto “Thats it baby, cum for me. Just getting started with you tonight. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

You went numb, pretty much everywhere but your cunt — something high pitched and feral deafening you through the impending white noise of your orgasm — wait, was that you? You could hardly breathe, and when some feeling returned to you, you felt stickiness all along the inner sides of your thighs and seeping into the rough denim of Abby’s lap below you. Jesus… did she make you—?

“Shit babe, fucking… baptised me there.” She pants, like she was the one that just received an earth shattering orgasm and you collapse against the strong muscle of her shoulder, trying to self soothe— trying to ground yourself. You twitched, her fingers stilling within you at the tell-tale sign of overstimulation. She pulled them out, rubbing her thumb on your bare hip as she pressed her chin to her chest looking down between your bodies, admiring the gooey mess you’d left on her. “Already got a little fountain going on down there baby, we haven’t even been going at it for that long.” She teases with a grin in a way you know is meant to be praise because as soon as you lift your head she’s attacking your hot cheeks with kisses.

“S’embarrassing.” You whimper, despite your small giddy smile and she tsks a little, hand creeping up to your throat, holding your sturdily there.

“If you’re still finding things embarrassing, it’s because I haven’t fucked all those bad thoughts from today out that pretty little head yet. You still want it?” She’s speaking against your lips now, effortlessly pushing her hips up beneath you and rolling her strap into your sensitive cunt again. Is that even a question?

“Still— still want it—”

You weren’t finished speaking, and Abby is moving at the speed of light. She cups your beneath your ass with one hand, still using your delicate neck as her main grabbing point— she twists the two of you, so suddenly you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, all in one quick succession that makes your head spin. Your back bounces against the bed, bounces you into her and her thumb soothes over your throat. “Hands still working baby?” She kisses the corner of your mouth. You flex your fingers out of her vision, testing.

“Yes.”

“Undo my belt then, pretty.” It’s clear she still needs both of her hands to caress you, so you get to work, shakily reaching for the leather tucked within the denim waistband of her jeans. It’s smooth and feels expensive beneath your fingers, and the sound of the buckle clinking makes you squeeze out more of the residual arousal you’d spewed out only minutes prior. It’s like she can tell it does something for you, because her tough pads of her fingers come and rest on your sensitive clit again, just rubbing slow lethargic circles making it harder to pull the belt out of the loops. “Thats my girl.” She helps you, taking the belt and placing it aside.

She does the rest, because you just weren’t moving efficiently enough for her liking, one hand sliding up your soft arm until she’s pinning your wrist gently to the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, and the other hand deftly unpopping the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. She pulls the familiar plastic cock out, adjusting her hips and resting the shaft along your tummy, tip grazing just below your belly button. “Think you’re ready for me now?” She leans forward, nudging your chin with her own to get your lips where she needed to capture them, sucking on your bottom lip barely allowing you to sigh out a pleasured “Uh-huh.” against her.

She sits up, pulling her hoodie off leaving her in just a fitted black wifebeater and the pace of everything changes all of a sudden. It’s less desperate and more purposeful, coming into her dominance and remaining control like she always did. She leant over you, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer and leant back, drizzling it over the shaft. You reached forward without thinking and massaged it around for her, looking up at her with those big needy puppy dog eyes. She groaned, like you were actually jerking her off — greedily yanking her jersey up to sit above your plush tits for her viewing pleasure.

“Fuck… so pretty… Alright baby, deep breath in for me.”

She looked so good like this, hair stuck to her face and neck, jeans pulled just below her peachy ass being cupped by the ropey black harness. The royal blue plastic glistening as she slides it up and down your willing cunt. Her biceps bulging from holding herself up above you, making you just want to sink your teeth into her. Abby was a work of fucking art.

You follow her instructions, Abby kissing away your strained whimpers at the stretch. It only made sense that Abby Anderson, home to all BDE — was weighed down by a fucking monster of a strap, 7 and a half inches, thick and dark blue with added detail of veins and a fat tip. When you first slept together, after one very successful date, sitting on her lap in that little innocent floral dress that rode up your doughy thighs just right — she thought about calling the whole thing off until she could get her hands on a strap a little smaller and less threatening. Until, of course — your wide and blameless eyes were staring up at her, hand barely wrapping around it as you thickly muttered out a ‘I can take it Abby. Let me take you’, and the rest is obviously history.

She sighed out once she was fully seated in you, like it was a relief, like one day you might not be able to take her fully and she’d have to practise even more self restraint by thrusting in halfsies. You tensed up, suddenly aware of the situation again. A spike of sickly anxiety washed through your stomach. Did you deserve this? After the havoc you caused today? “Pretty girl. Let me in that head.” She whispers and it hypnotises you as she thrusts slowly, just grinding her hips against yours.

“Don’t — mmphm— don’t deserve this.” Your voice is high and a little panicked, and Abby’s eyes open to pin you down with her grounding gaze. She knocks your chin up gently toward her as if to say ‘look at me.’ and she rests her hand over your chest, feeling the hammering of your heart as you very suddenly become overwhelmed.

“Hey.” She drags calmly, raising her eyebrows. You try and relax, copying her breathing because you knew she was about to tell you to do that anyway. “Sweet girl.” She thumbs your cheek. “You deserve every last inch of this fucking cock.” She’s whispering again and you cry, hard. She picks up on what you need, and she presses up deeper into you, making your legs flail before wrapping tightly around her ass, your tits bouncing obscenely to the rhythm of her thrusts. “My perfect girl. Don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Yeah? Gonna fucking… go pro ball, make you my pretty little courtside wife. How’s that sound?” She starts to thrust a bit harder and you’re stunned out of your freak out session, distracted by her words and overcome by pleasure as you just listen. Interested to see where this fantasy will go.

“Yes.” Is all you manage and it’s barely audible but she hears it, and carries on.

“Gonna make it to WNBA for you baby. Not for me. So I can spoil you for the rest of my fucking life.” She grits her teeth, her big rough hands sliding around your back so she can cradle you, use your body to fuck you on and off her cock. You whine, barely aware of the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “You wanna give me that baby? Let me buy you every pair of shoes and stupidly priced handbags so you can look pretty for me at every game? Yeah?” Her voice is higher pitched and you think she might cum at some point, but she’s too determined to fuck your lights out completely for any of that.

“W—want that Abs, want you— I want —”

She’s interrupting, not finished with stuffing this fantasy into your brain until there’s nothing there but the manifestation of those thoughts. “You won’t even remember those girls on your cheer squad. They’ll be nobodies. You think I’d ever fucking look at anyone else but you, hm? My pretty little wife?”

Just when you think things can’t get more intense, she’s decided that she’s not physically deep enough — and pushes your thighs up to your chest, knees squishing against your tits as she stretched you, grunting out a “Fuck”, a sign of her losing control for a second. “N’then after every game. Can take you.. fuck, can take you shopping, fly you out wherever you want. Slut you out, just like this. You want that life baby don’t you? You wanna give me that life?” Your brain is muddled, and you can’t tell if you’re begging her or she’s begging you. Your mouth is open, but the air is punched from you and you’re just squeaking like a dog toy and she pounds your little cunt.

She reaches for what seems to be your on button, shoving her thumb between your lifted legs and grinding your abused clit again. “Wanna— wanna be your wife Abby. Want — I wanna—” You’re rambling, and then you’re cumming, harder than you’ve cum in your life. Your throat is raw, nails clawing for something, some kind of life support as she fucks you through your orgasm, breathless and determined. You vaguely feel yourself marking up her skin with your nails, but you’re never fully aware of yourself doing it — always just as shocked and guilty when you see the red streaks across her freckled skin the next morning whilst she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom with a towel around her waist.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl you take it all. Take what I’m giving you.”

And you do, because when she goes to slow down you’re whining and bucking against her strap— fuck drunk and obsessive, finally getting to that dumb place she needs you to be able to rid of all those negative ideas you had about yourself earlier. She lets you breathe as she thinks about it, thinks about the way you misbehaved and the way you wouldn’t use your words. Maybe there was still more in you, more room for some reinforcement.

That’s why approximately five minutes later you had your cheek to the pillow having been pressed there by the basketball captain herself, Abby’s foot up on the bed and your ass in the hair as she drilled into your weeping pussy.

She pushes your back down, against the protests and your cries and your “Can’t Abs, so deep!” muttering for you to “Just fucking take it, sweet girl. I’m not asking.”

You give in and let her, already feeling yourself close to another animalistic style orgasm which only leaves your heart aching for your peeved neighbours that were probably just trying to sleep.

“You gonna listen next time, huh?” You don’t know how she has the endurance to keep slamming into you like this, wife beater pulled up above her sweat-gleaming abs now to not obstruct her vision of her creamy strap pounding in and out your soft flushed pussy. “You tell me when you fucking need me, yeah? You tell me when you’re feeling a type of way and you need me to reassure you from now on.” She waits a beat, and you wail. “Say yes.” She adds in command.

“Yeees!” You cry.

“Say yes Abby.”

“Yes Abby!”

You’re pretty much on autopilot at this point, brain so empty that all it knows is to do exactly what Abby says at all times, chasing that lingering tight coil in your stomach that whispered ‘cum one more time for her’ in your ear in a saccharine sweet voice that just about convinced you. Adding onto the persuasion, Abby’s weight dropped a little more onto you, hot torso against your back and hips grinding feverishly into you still. “Give me one more then. One more and that’s it baby. Keep being good for me.”

So you do, again, and this one is different from the rest — it’s your last drop, your last spot of energy. You’re weeping and grabbing and you feel it ooze out of you around the punishing blue plastic, and when you’ve done it Abby gets softer, kissing your spine and pulling out, so much praise your brain can’t even register it through your submissive fog.

“Did so good baby. So perfect, angel. Love you so much, my girl.”

She was cleaning you up before you could blink with a cold wet wipe from her bed side draw, practically scooping out endless amounts of your creamy arousal as you whimper at the sensitivity.

“Cold” You whisper, and you’re not sure if it was by choice seeing as you didn’t think you had a voice at that point.

“I know.” She chuckled, voice low and hands gentle— stroking the backs of your thighs as you stay on your front, legs trembling now as the adrenaline dwindles in your body. “Did so good for me. Let’s roll you over.”

She’s kicked off her jeans and her harness, now just in her boxers and wife beater— eyes flickering to your hands tugging at the jersey.

“Want it off. Wanna feel you.” You mumble sleepily once you’re on your back, desperately craving your skin on hers. She cradles your neck as she obliges, slipping the material up and over your head and pulling you into her.

You knew she carried on doting on you after you’d fallen asleep, and truthfully you don’t remember when you fell asleep — somewhere between her wiping you down and peppering kisses across your whole body — but like usual, her strap had knocked you the fuck out, and before you knew it you were waking up, disorientated by the morning sun flooding in through the blinds. Your senses start to arrive back to your body and you note them off like a checklist in your foggy brain. Touch, Abby’s arms locked around your waist. Sight, the blinding laser beam of sun attacking your eyeballs. Smell, Abby. Hearing, Abby. And the birds tweeting.

You roll, twisting in her arms so that your head was tucking beneath her chin against her chest, breathing her in and relishing in the way her skin stayed warm through the night like an electric blanket, unlike your own — cold to the touch from kicking off your side of the duvet.

She’s still fast asleep, always the heavy sleeper and after the game and the party you decide that big girl needs her rest, even if you’re now wide awake and staring at her. She looked like a painting, pouty lips swollen from a night of kissing, honeyed hair still in its braid but totally messed up now, pale blonde baby hairs sticking up and around her face. Her dark lashes kissed beneath her eyes and her chest moved up and down like the slow rocking of a small boat on a calm tide. You smiled when the sun slid further into the sky and created a beam across her eyes, making her scrunch them in her sleep and bury her face into the pillow.

You remember peeing last night now, before you’d fallen asleep — Abby carrying your warm, dazed body to the bathroom and sitting you on the toilet, letting you lean your cheek against her tummy to hold you up as you pee’d, gently shushing your complaints about removing you from the bed.

“S’not good for you to hold your pee after sex, babe.”

“M’sleepy. ‘Don’t care if I get a UFO.”

“UTI. And I care.”

You slowly slide out the bed careful not to wake your girlfriend, on a hunt for your phone. You pull Abby’s jersey back over your head for coverage and tiptoe out the room. Where did you put your bag again? You find it tossed on the couch haphazardly where you left it and fished through it, leaning on the back of her leather couch as you scrolled through. Your thumb tapped the Instagram logo and loaded it up, automatically gravitating towards Abby’s story, displayed at the top of the screen. You pressed it, expecting to see some kind of victory shot of her holding the trophy or a picture with her team, but instead were met with a photo of you that she’d taken when you’d fallen asleep last night— your head turned the other way on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Bare back glowing in the dim light of the room, bed covers resting at your waist. The caption reads: ‘Future WNBA wife.’ followed by your @.

Any other day you might gasp, due to the nature of the picture being that — well — it’s clear even to the untrained eye that you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. But you grin, glowing from the inside out. She was showing you off, indirectly reassuring you even more because she knows you need it. You press a heart on the story, stepping in the direction of the bedroom to attack her sleepy face with kisses— but your eyes catch on the kitchen instead.

The perks of dating someone with such a buff body, was that they always would be stocked up on plenty of food. Not like your dorm, thinking back to the microwave meals and tins of soup stocked up in your kitchen made you grimace. You swung open her refrigerator door, gathering ingredients to whip her up a winners breakfast.

Having made everything from scratch, by the time the breakfast was nearly ready you’d heard Abby stir and climb out of bed, disturbed by the accidental clattering of pots and pans. The water ran for a while, and as you turned off the stove — removing her frying pan of eggs, you’d heard her heavy feet plodding into the room.

You nearly burnt yourself at the sight of her, sweatpants pulled up low on her waist, no shirt, red scratches from your overexcited claws the night before wrapping around her bicep and over her left shoulder, assumably trailing down onto her back, and her hair down — a little damp, falling messily across her small chest. You offered her a small smile as she took in the scene, looking very serious about it too you might add. Turning around back to the chopping board to prepare some turkey bacon for her you felt her crowd you. A shadow casted over you. You were suddenly smaller.

“Makin’ me breakfast? Was I that good?” She rasped, huge hands sliding around your waist — instantly dwarfing you some more.

“Mhm. Breakfast for a winner.” You chirped quietly, too early to be excitable.

“Really leaning into this whole housewife thing aren’t you baby?” She chuckles and your face heats up. Is it that obvious? She presses kisses to the side of your neck, hands grabbing you all over. Involuntarily, you arch your back— pressing your ass into her crotch and she winces.

You freeze up, knife clattering out of your hand onto the wooden chopping board and brows furrowing at the way her fingers tighten around your waist, lips by your temple now. You’re practically pinned to the counter, hands flexed wide on the smooth surface when you grind back against her again experimentally.

She’d never admit it, but last night had left her wanting, which she expected was selfishness considering she vowed to make it all about you. She pulled you back against her, your plush ass beneath just her jersey thumping against her clit again — nothing but that and the material of her sweatpants brushing up against her swollen button. You whimpered a little, not making it better for anyone and found your rhythm, rubbing and humping back on her, feeling her exposed tits against your back. “Like this?” You whine, and tug up the jersey so your bare ass is on display now, just a vessel for Abby to get off on.

“Just like that, pretty.”

The sight makes her push into you a little harder, bending you over the counter when there’s nowhere else to go. She continues humping you, leaning over you and kissing you, curling her toes against the tiles until she explodes into quiet, low gasps and groans— leaking into the grey material as you help her along with encouraging noises.

“Fuck babe, fuckprettygirl— my god.” She pants, leaning over you and pressing a kiss onto your back before tugging your jersey back down with a chuckle after a minute of panting and coming down. “Gonna put me back to sleep.” She gives your ass a loving slap, grabbing the flesh of it in her meaty hand before walking around you to lean against the counter top tiredly. You giggle, shaky hands getting back to food prep as she watches you with fond eyes. “How you feeling? All good?” She analyses, mind still on your series of mini freak out’s the night before.

Your eyes are on the turkey as you continue slicing shyly. “Sore. But all good.”

“Sorry baby.” Her thumb rubs your arm sympathetically.

“No I— I like it. Like feeling you the next day.” You don’t look at her, you can’t, but you know she’s grinning.

“Good.”

She disappears for a minute and reappears with her phone, scrolling, checking notifications. You begin to plate up her breakfast, feeling her hands wrap around your waist again, her phone held by your chest as her chin rests on your shoulder, leaning over you. “Your little friends saw my story of you. Think by now they get the message.” She smirks and you giggle, turning your head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I think so too.”

“If not, I’ll just have to make it clearer, yeah? ‘ll fuck you infront of ‘em if that’s what it takes.”

Your eyes widen as she backs off, going to help you plate up the big breakfast you’d made. You didn’t think that would be necessary anymore, feeling much more secure now but your achey, abused core twitched at the idea anyway— not totally against it.

You’ll pocket that for later.

#abby anderson x reader #basketball!abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #modern!abby #jock!abby

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markiemelon · 5 months

Note

hii! i just found out about your blog! i wanted to request something but i also wanted to compliment your work! you have the writing style that pulls me in so that i really read the story word for word (most of the time i just skim through the entire fic to just get to the ending lol) so thank you for existing and writing these stories. they feel like a big hug! keep up the good work, i will definetly read your work in the future and catch up on your other work that i havent gotten to yet!

as for my request haha, i was wondering if you could write for jeno? im a sucker for soft jeno, but i cant really find anything that isnt wayyy too cringey. tbh soft jeno is very rare i feel like *sobs*

like, jeno is a really cold boyfriend who doesnt really show his affection, and even when he does, he doesnt admit it. for example, when he prepares a gift for you, he puts it in a place where a lot of people can access, so that you dont know that its him. haha and then when you ask him abt it, he pretends he has no idea what ur talking abt.

the only time that jeno is soft and cuddly is when ur abt to sleep or when hes sleepy.

can u js write abt jeno being exceptionally cuddly one day in bed, and the reader is really surprised?

also maybe jeno confesses abt sweet things hes done for reader in the past?

if ur not interested, please ignore! i know i wrote a lot haha, sorry.

bye!

@dungiewungie you are the sweetest. im so flattered. thank you for reading my stories!!!! thank youuu!!! so much!!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡

——————————————(.◜◡◝)——————————————

pillows

——————————————(.◜◡◝)——————————————

☆ genre. flufffff + no warnings

☆ pairings. jeno x gn!reader

{11:55 pm ~ ♡}

you and jeno didn’t live together, but somehow he always found a way back to your place. he loved staying with you. he loved the way that the pillows smelled of your shampoo and how your perfume lingered on the silky sheets…

side by side, you and jeno lied in your bed, heads sunken into your pillows.

“yn, why do you have so many pillows? we can barely fit on this bed.”

he was right, you did have way too many pillows, but you liked piling them up and burring yourself to feel cozy.

he tried to throw some off to the side of the bed but you wouldn’t let him. “noo. i need all of them.”

jeno rolled his eyes and pretended to act annoyed. he shuffled around a bit to get comfortable despite drowning in the fluffiness around him. the two of you lied in silence for a moment.

“talk to me.” he said.

“talk to you?” you answered.

“yeah. it helps me sleep.” his voice was quiet.

your lips stretched past your teeth as you thought of all the things you could talk to jeno about. you figured now would be the perfect time to confront him about something since he couldn’t really go anywhere...

“remember that time you got jealous when my secret admirer sent me flowers?”

“yeah… “ he said shyly. “also..i gave you those flowers.” he confessed, a bit hesitantly. “that was before we started dating so i was kind of embarrassed.” jeno rubbed the nape of his neck.

he avoided looking at you; he was just too flustered to.

hearing that made your cheeks light up. “jenooooooo!” you wanted to give him the biggest hug, but you knew he hated your cuteness aggression. so you just told him how adorable he was, and went back to drifting off to sleep…

“yn. come here.”

your head perked up as you gladly placed yourself the closest you could to jeno while still lying side-by-side.

“no” he said, “here.”

jeno put his arm around your back, and pulled your head to rest on top of his chest. “i meant here.”

you didn’t say anything, you just giggled to yourself as you thought about how funny it was that out of all the pillows you had to choose from, he was the softest one.

thank you thank youuu for requesting! i haven’t had much time to write so I’m sorry this took soooo long. i really hope you like it ♡

-🍉

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misc-obeyme · 8 months

Note

Congrats on the followers!!!! WOOOOO!!!

could I request “I really want to kiss you right now.” with Beelzebabes please? something about him just saying that out of the blue…ugh. it fuckin GETS me. NSFW af please (the naughtier the better ;) lol), and if I could request AFAB but gender neutral pronouns for reader?

Also if it’s not asking too much could you avoid using the word “cunt?” Just a personal turn off, tbh.

btw i’m @libidinous-weeb on here! (side blog) and your smut writing skills are top tier!!! you’re sooo good, i’m a huge fan! <3

Hello hello!

Ahh thank you so much!! I'm still not very confident in my smut writing, so it means it a lot to hear that you like it!!

Okay, so hopefully this one turned out okay... I love Beel so much I think he would just be really sweet the whole time lol. I didn't really end up using pronouns aside from you/yours, so hopefully that's okay, too. But MC is AFAB! As it turns out, I don't like using the word "cunt" either so I didn't, but I would also like to say that it is absolutely never too much to ask me not to use a word like that. I am happy to accommodate any such preferences!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Beelzebub with prompt "I really want to kiss you right now."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: face-sitting, penetration (reader receiving)

You had been flirting pretty blatantly with Beel all day, hoping against hope that he'd pick up on your meaning. It wasn't as though he didn't already know how you felt. You had already spent several nights together, all of them mind blowing. But you found yourself wanting more and more. And it had been too long.

It was a slow afternoon and most of his brothers were out of the house or otherwise occupied. For once, you didn't really have anything demanding your attention. It was the perfect opportunity to spend a little quality time with Beel. He seemed happy enough to do whatever you wanted, but he didn't seem to be picking up on exactly what you wanted.

You asked him to join you in your room to watch some TV. Sitting together on your bed was the perfect situation. You could cuddle with him, maybe kiss him a bit, and if he still wasn't getting the message, you might need to just say it directly.

But when you were there, cozied up to his side, you found the TV so boring and his presence so relaxing that you felt yourself getting a little drowsy. Being cuddled up with him like that was so comfortable, you forgot all about your earlier attempts at flirting, your eyelids actually starting to get a little heavy.

"MC," Beel said.

His tone was so serious, you sat up straight to look at him. "What is it?"

Beel met your eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now."

You blinked in surprise for a moment. And then you were no longer sleepy. You turned off the TV, climbed into his lap, and kissed him.

Beel's hands went to your waist and when you opened your mouth for him, he took the invitation readily. You felt the hot spike of desire that ran through your body at the feeling of his tongue against yours. The kiss got hot and sloppy, your motions growing desperate as all the neediness you had been feeling previously returned to you full force. When you felt his erection stirring beneath you, you took the opportunity to grind down on it.

Beel moaned low in his throat, his lips still on yours, his hands running over your hips and your backside. You broke away to pull in a breath, leaving Beel to put his lips on your neck. He sucked and nipped just a little, which made you gasp and grind down on him again. The throbbing need between your legs was almost too much to bear as you gripped Beel's shoulders.

Beel ran his hands under your shirt, breaking away from you so he could pull it over your head, exposing your chest. You tugged on his, too, and it was gone in moments, both of them forming a little heap on the floor. And then Beel's mouth was on one of your nipples. You clutched at his bare shoulders, nails digging in enough to leave little half moon indentations in his skin.

And then you felt Beel's fingers tugging on the waistband of your pants. You slid off of his lap to remove them yourself along with your underwear, too eager to let him do it for you.

Before you could do anything else, though, Beel was lying down on your bed on his back. You frowned at him because he was still wearing his pants.

"Um, Beel," you said.

Beel tugged on your hand and you let him pull you back up onto the bed. His hands guided you until you were straddling his face, your knees on either side of his head.

"Beel," you said again, a note of uncertainty in your voice.

"Is this okay? You can trust me, MC," Beel said, his hands resting on your hips.

You nodded your willingness to let him take the lead and he pushed gently on your hips. You lowered yourself down, holding onto the headboard for balance.

The moment Beel's tongue made contact with your hot flesh, your body clenched and you were thankful you were already gripping the headboard. You held on as he plunged his tongue inside of you before pulling it up to swirl around your clit. You moaned, feeling the wetness dripping from you, imagining how it must be dripping down his chin.

Beel moaned into you and the vibration of his deep voice made you shudder. Beel pushed down on your hips again, making you sink even lower. You had a vague thought about potentially suffocating him, but it fled as soon as he began to suck. He was moaning continuously now, clearly doing it on purpose because of the way you were reacting to it.

You held on to the headboard with both hands, not sure how long you could last like this. The sweet hot feeling gathered deep within you, building and building. You moaned Beel's name as you could feel yourself getting closer and closer until your orgasm finally burst upon you, rolling through you and making you see stars.

You couldn't stop yourself from moving your hips as you rode out your high, not even able to think about what that might be doing to Beel's face.

When you were able to think clearly again, you moved back, half sitting on his chest because you didn't have the strength to go anywhere else.

Beel smiled up at you and your stomach fluttered at the sight of your cum on his lips. He licked them and you nearly orgasmed again just from that.

You leaned forward, letting your head fall on his shoulder. "Beel, you're making me crazy."

Beel rubbed your back. "Do you want me to keep going? Or is it too much?"

You looked at him and smiled. You didn't say anything, just sat up, moved so you were sitting next to him on the bed, and tugged at his pants.

Beel took the hint. He got up from the bed to discard them on the pile of all your other clothes.

This freed his massive cock and you wondered briefly if your eyes were shining excitedly at the sight of it. You could feel the thrill that ran though you as you reached out to touch it.

Beel let you stroke it for a little bit while he stood beside the bed, biting his lip and trying not to groan.

After a minute though, he looked down at you. "MC…"

There was a note of desperation in his tone that sent a stab of desire spiking up your spine. You instantly lay back on the bed, scooting yourself toward the edge. Beel helped you by pulling your legs up to rest on his chest, but paused with the tip of his cock at your entrance. He looked down at you, a question clearly on his face.

"It's okay, Beel," you said. You pushed yourself closer to him. "I want you inside me."

Even with this permission, Beel went slow. You knew it was because he was aware of his size and didn't want to hurt you in any way. You were already so wet, but you were also sensitive after having orgasmed on his face moments ago. Every inch of him that entered you shot sparking sensations through your entire body. You were already squirming and moaning beneath him by the time he was fully inside you.

You reached up to grab at his hands, which were resting on your hips, as he began to slowly move in and out of you. It was almost agonizing how careful he was being.

You arched your back and said, "Faster, faster, please…"

Beel always listened to you and this was no exception. He immediately picked up the pace, pounding into you hard and fast, hitting that sweetest spot deep inside you and making you cry out with the overwhelming pleasure of it.

Beel seemed to be just as lost in sensation as you were, his thrusts becoming frantic, your name spilling from his mouth in a repetitive mumble.

You were already nearing your climax again. It was only a matter of a few more hard thrusts from Beel and you were clenching around him, everything tightening as you did your best not to scream. Your hands clutched at the sheets beneath you as Beel kept going. You squirmed, rocking your hips with him, the feelings running through you so intense you couldn't help the praise spilling from your lips, telling him how good he felt, how amazing he was, how full he made you feel.

It seemed hearing you saying such things, even incoherently, was the last push Beel needed. He groaned as he filled you up with his cum, his hands clenching on your hips, his thrusts stuttering and then slowing.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, both of you breathing heavily. After catching your breath, you would clean each other up, carefully and sweetly, before returning to your bed. You pressed yourself into Beel's side, his arm circling protectively around you and pulling you closer. The feeling of his skin against yours was so nice, you found yourself filled with a sense of happiness. It wasn't long before you both fell asleep, completely exhausted.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me smut #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub smut #obey me beel smut #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub x mc #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub x mc #misc 1k event #misc naughty times #misc writes

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fashion-runways · 2 years

Text

okay, i promised an explanation and i won’t go into too many details because honestly i’m still kind of a mess and there’s a lot we don’t know yet and everything but-- 2 weeks ago out of nowhere, in the middle of the night at 6am cops showed up at our home and raided our apartment and stuck around up until 2pm just making a mess of the whole place and taking photos and whatever, they broke the downstairs front door (which we now have to pay to replace off our own money), made an absolute mess of every room in the apartment, took every electronic device except our phones (and that’s only because i started crying about having all my healthcare info on an app and how i was going to lose all my appointments, and i think they felt bad for us?) and detained my father. they have barely given us information on what he’s accused of, they’re still nowhere near investigating those devices they took so they won’t give them back to us, and we have no freaking idea if or when my dad is coming back, because again, they’re not giving us a lot of information. on top of that my dad is pretty old, he's 65, he was supposed to have surgery this month because he can’t see very well from one eye (his workplace was paying for it) and he kinda can’t hear very well from one ear too, even though he refuses to accept it, and he’s been on anxiety medication for a while, so i’m kind of scared of what will happen to him without actual medical care or a nice place to sleep every night?? i don’t know. i truly don't.

now, this as you can imagine is traumatizing enough as it was, and it continues to be, but on top of that my dad was pretty much the only person with a stable job and a concistent income in this family, so now that he’s detained and we literally have no idea when he’ll come back, me and my mom got basically left in the dark. and even if he comes back, like, i don’t know, next week? i’m pretty sure he’ll get fired because he’s been missing work for 2 weeks now. i have some money that i saved from the stuff you guys send me, my mom has some money she makes, but it’s... obviously not enough, and this is a really stressful situation to be in, obviously, i wouldn't wish this on my worst enemies tbh.

so... i don’t know. i can’t promise i’ll post anything new because i’m limited to mobile for god knows how long, that’s why i’ve been reposting stuff. and if you want to help, if you enjoy the blog, if you have anything to spare, that would really be helpful. i know this sounds insane what happened, and trust me it still doesn’t feel real sometimes?? like i’m going to wake up and it'll be a bad dream? i don’t know. as always, since i’m from latin america, anything helps. literally even the smallest amount of money helps. sorry this post is so long and so trauma dump-y, but i said i’d explain and i need help more than ever, this blog is basically the only semi-stable thing i have income wise. if anyone wants me to tag this with any trigger warning specifically, let me know, i wouldn’t know what to tag this myself.

anyway, i have my kofi account that i link in every post i make here: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my redbubble account: https://www.redbubble.com/people/dinah-lance/shop if you’d want to buy something instead. and as always thanks for loving this blog and for always helping us, i know it doesn't seem like it matters sometimes, but it does to me 💖

#text posts

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jisungchan · 2 months

Text

notice me | lee jeno

or: where your friends set you up (accidentally) so you end up alone with your hot college professor, lee jeno

⚔︎ warnings: professor!jeno x student!reader (therefore powerplay), unprotected penetrative piv sex (pls wrap it we cannot have anymore children in this economy and society), oral + fingering (f receiving) softdom!jeno x sub!reader (ish? not really strong dynamics tbh), bigdick!jeno agenda, light degradation/praise (idk he just yappin fr), oh yea... YAPPER JENO idc🗣, sexy consent, he finished inside so BEWARE (once again PLEASE do not bring anymore poor children in this world), light nipple play, marking ?? (hickeys galore), afab!reader with she/her pronouns, NO race specific descriptors (skin colour, hair texture, etc.), NO body type specific descriptors (size of reader body parts, height, weight, etc.). also this is basically porn w/o plot ngl but it's whatever ig

^^ let me know if i forgot anything hehe

2k word count

a/n: i completely gutted this blog and deleted all my old posts because that was a completely different audience/fandom and i have now ventured here... i haven't wrote something like this in a while so it's quite bad

“yeah i mean, he is hot, but he’s our teacher.” you exclaimed to your friends, gossiping about your teacher, professor lee jeno.

the way he would loosen his tie in class sometimes and peer at students through his glasses was just too much to handle. the dark haired older man was definitely easy on the eyes.

“okay… so? i would let him hit any day.” your friend said, and you all laughed, yet were all in agreement.

next thing you knew. it was time for class with the devil himself.

you sat in your usual seat next to your friends. while they all usually messed around during class, you always paid attention. your education was very important to you, and you weren’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. so you sat there, studiously taking notes and listening intently to everything said, taking it all in.

as you were taking notes, a note got passed to you. “listening extra hard to your boyfriend today huh?” you rolled your eyes at the familiar handwriting and shot your friends an irritated look.

professor lee got a glimpse of this, he peered through his glasses, and shot you a dangerous glare.

“y/n, see me after class please.” he said, before swiftly turning around to finish his lecture.

you couldn’t focus the rest of the class, so you settled for writing your thoughts in your notebook. how were you supposed to see him one on one? you could barely handle him in class. you made note to go off on your friends after you were done seeing mr. lee.

then, the bell rang. students fled the room, nobody quicker than your friend group, feeling a little guilty for getting you in trouble.

“so, y/n, passing notes in my class, are we?” he said, his back turned to you, erasing the board filled with an hour’s worth of notes.

“i’m sorry, it’s just a stupid note my friends passed to me.” you mumbled back. He motioned you to come to his desk as he sat down in his chair. of course you obliged, immediately going to the opposite side of his desk.

“let me see it.” he said emotionlessly, his hand out expecting it to fall in his palm.

“no sir, please, it’s just a stupid joke.” you pleaded, but his hand still was expectantly extended.

eventually, you dropped it in the palm of his large hands. he opened and read the note aloud, finishing with a hint of a little smirk.

you shuffled in place, cheeks burning and blushing from him reading it out loud, it was so embarrassing and you wanted to die on the spot.

“i see someone has a little crush. you’re a good student, you know that y/n?” he said to your surprise.

“thank you sir, i try my best.”

“and i think good girls deserve a little reward, wouldn’t you agree?”

you looked up to him loosening his tie and taking his jacket off.

“come, sit.” he said as he patted the desk right in front of him.

blindly, you obeyed. mind blurry from the very sudden and odd words coming from your teacher. you sat atop the desk, right in front of his sitting figure, and more importantly, his face. you kept your legs clamped shut, and you regretted wearing such a short skirt today.

“don’t be shy now love, like i said, good girls deserve rewards, now let me reward you, yeah?

you nodded, and with that, he separated your legs, staring hungrily at the wetness leaking through your underwear.

he laughed.

“already? i see that ‘stupid little joke’ must be getting to you, hmm?"

this was all too embarrassing, you tried to close your legs back, but jeno was too strong. he tsked and widened your legs even more. then, he scooped your underwear with one finger, tugging it down your legs.

“was so excited when i saw you with that note, finally had an excuse to get you alone.” he said, his hands lightly grazing your inner thighs.

he stood, hovering over you, and kissed you.

it wasn’t desparate and harsh, but slow and sensual. he licked your lower lip, then took it between his teeth. he placed his hands on your hips as he continued. he moved down to your neck, embedding hickeys into your skin.

“how true is that note? is that why you’re such a good student in my class?” he questioned you once again.

“yes, no? i do genuinely enjoy your class, sir” you breathlessly replied.

he sat back down, you could feel his breath on your wet, eager cunt, just waiting for him to do something about it.

and as soon as you uttered a

please

jeno wasted no time to please you.

his wet, experienced tongue masterfully landed on your clit, giving you little kitten licks. then, he pressed his lips on you, making out with your sloppy mess of a cunt. his tongue circling around your entrance, teasing it until finally replacing it with a finger. his tongue went back to stimulating your clit as his finger repeatedly abused your hole over and over again. he added another, and you’ve never felt so full. as if his long, veiny fingers weren’t enough, he curled them, hitting your sweet spot causing broken whimpers to fall from your quivering lips. moans escaped your mouth as he kept going.

as he heard your gasps of exasperation, he looked up, boring his brown eyes into yours.

“such a sweet pussy for a sweet girl.”

he continued his actions, until eventually you started getting restless, pulling on his hair tightly and squirming around.

“go ahead, cum on my fingers darling” he commanded softly.

and with that, you were sent over the edge, making a mess of his fingers and all over his mouth. you thought your ‘reward’ was finished, but jeno had other plans.

“you thought that was all? y/n, you are my top student, i have to treat you accordingly.”

then, he flipped you over on your chest, ass out in the air.

“no spanking this time, but if you act up again, i will have to punish you, okay?”

“yes sir!” you replied eagerly.

with that, he placed his throbbing cock at your entrance, teasing you and himself with just the tip. you hadn’t even seen his dick, but from the tip, you could tell it was big.

he leans over, chest to your back, speaking lowly in your ear,

“i’ll show you how a real man fucks,”

he pushes himself in a bit

“how you should be fucked”

he pushes himself halfway into you, you’re already whining at the stretch

“you’re gonna walk out of here and never want anyone else’s dick ever again.”

and with that, jeno forces the rest of his length inside you, licking the shell of your ear as he stands back up.

your pussy squeezes in shock from him throbbing inside of you. he hasn’t even moved yet, but you can already feel yourself becoming undone.

“you still with me baby? hmm? can’t have you fucked out when i haven’t even fucked you yet, can we?” he asks mockingly, squishing your cheeks with his hand to turn your face toward him.

jeno just thinks you look so beautiful, face flushed with lust and eyes glossy with desire as you shake your head no.

“use your words baby, need to hear how much you want your professor’s cock.” he starts shallowly thrusting, just enough to make you let out a quiet moan.

“please, fuck, please fuck me. needed you for so long.” you whine, attempting to grind back on him in effort to get some friction for your poor needy cunt. he picks up the speed, starting to drag his dick in and out at a more rapid speed. you can feel each vein massaging your gummy walls.

“fuck, me too baby. every time i saw you walk into class, just wanted to bend you over the desk and fuck you just like this. let everyone see how much of a slut you are for me.”

your head hangs down, forehead against the desk as he presses his hand in your back, causing you to arch even more. high on euphoria and need, you start bouncing your ass back on him, meeting him halfway. you hear a small laugh that turns into a low grunt at your actions, when he suddenly pulls out.

sad at the feeling of emptiness, you didn’t even have a chance to protest before he flips you around, ass on the desk and your arms keeping you sitting up.

“wanna see those pretty tits bounce when i fuck you.” is all he says, before he ruthlessly enters you again, going even faster than before.

you moan and clench around the feeling, never having felt so full before. you’re gushing around him still, causing his length to be covered with your slick, it even dripped all over his desk and over both your thighs; though, you’re too turned on and needy to even be embarrassed. all you need right now is to cum around him.

you lift your shirt up, granting his wish of seeing your chest bounce and jiggle as he fucks up into you. he groans and takes one in his hand, kneading it and rolling your nipple before pinching it, making you yelp. he then brings his head down to paint more hickeys all over your now exposed chest, leaving so many littered across your skin.

“is my pretty girl enjoying herself on my cock?” he hums as he kisses back up to your neck.

you moaned in response, not able to formulate words. his gentle question was contrasted by how hard he was ramming into you. with every thrust you heard your skin clapping together; you swore you both were going to break his desk.

“you’re gonna let me cum in you, right? be my perfect little student and let me cum in you, yeah?”

“yes please, god, i need you to cum in me. wanna be so full of you, please.” you choked out, furiously nodding your head.

he kept going at a steady pace, fucking himself into you over and over again, chasing after his release. he placed his thumb on your clit rubbing circles, with the other gripping your waist.

“cum with me, yea? make a mess on my pretty cock, okay?” he cooed in your ear once again. that was all you needed to finish, and you came all over him as he came inside of you.

after a moment of each of you catching your breath, he pulled out. you whined at the feeling, especially as you felt his cum start to leak out of you. he took his finger, gathering it, and pressed it back into you. you hissed at the feeling of his finger in your sensitive cunt again, but he kept fingering you through your overstimulation. the moment he placed his thumb on your cunt, you came for a third time, crying out his name.

he cleaned you up with his handkerchief, slipped your underwear back on for you, and even helped you fix your clothes and hair. he looked at you fondly as you soothed face, still showing evidence of your semi-fucked out state.

“you were so good for me, how about a free private tutor session at my place? i could go into so much more depth than what we discussed here.”

i do not give permission for my work to be translated or reposted.

#nephele after dark #nct #nct dream #lee jeno #jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct jeno #jeno #jeno imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct hard hours

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creepy-friday · 1 year

Note

Love your blog! The way you write the Pastas is so interesting and enjoyable, specially the Proxies (glad you took Cody in the ecuation too, cause I like him and barely anyone remembers he's a proxy too)

Since we've already seen the boys in the female proxy au, how would she get along with other girls in the residence, like Kate the Chaser or Natalie? Whether in a romantic or platonic way

Thank you!I'M SO GLAD THE GIRLS GET SOME LOVE💞💞💞

Creepypasta Ladies x Fem!Proxy Reader

You worked with Kate from a distance since she's solo on all of her missions,her job and place in the team being way different from yours and the others

You also didn't know if she liked you because you were also a woman or she despises you because you're also a woman

During meetings she would ask a shit ton of questions about you and what you did on missions until that very moment,fuck,not even Masky is all up in your business like she is

On the rare occasions both of you meet she wouldn't greet you,she would simply nod her head at you.On impossible occasions you could get a glimpse of her face behind that mask.

I believe that if you do want to engage into a deeper conversation with her she will simply listen,but if you manage to get her to warm up to you she would vaguely say a few things about herself as well

Kate might throw a nasty double sided comment or two when there are just the two of you."Managed to calm Masky down,heh?How do you manage I wonder.." ; "sorry lady,I don't have a way with gentlemen like you do." ; "might enjoy the hell of a ride as well,you know best..am I right?"

You remind her of the few good persons she used to have in her life before she was dragged here

Clockwork was into you from the moment you stepped in the mansion tbh

Loves to tease you in both a romantic and friendly way.The fact that you're a woman in a position of power in the mansion over all of those fuckers it's super attractive to her

"Tell him to go fuck himself.What he's gonna say about it,huh?" ; "I bet I can be a better match for you than the demons of the forest,gimmie a chance to prove it to you;)"

Loves a good training with you,you're the only one who can counter all of her attacks,you really set her heart on fire

"You're a top bitch here,all bark all bite.Say,what would you do if I caused shit around here?;);)" she has no shame and will flirt with you every chance she has.If you ignore her remarks she wouldn't hold back,BUT if you do give her a chance she would further step her game UP

The nurse Ann barely talks overall and only engages into business conversations with you

If you have any "lady health problems" she would be the one to have your back like her life depends on it tbh

If you look around for Jack when she's in the infirmary she would simply assume you either don't like her or have a thing for male doctors lol

"No cannibals around,just good old me." she said,legs crossed facing you.

When you tried to make small talk with her she stopped you "you don't have to force yourself.We're just doing our jobs.Besides,the tension makes your veins harder to look for.."

Zero will start shit with you every chance she has.Fighting,blaming,shit talking,you name it,she would do everything in her power to try to bring you down and cause a violent reaction out of you

Does she get along with Masky because of this?Hell naw

Is it jealousy?a love-hate relationship?it's very hard to make the difference

On some occasions,she would act all nice and sweet,super flirty with you, and if you make the mistake of thinking she has good intentions with you she would degrade the living hell out of you

Despite the others,she doesn't trust you to have all of the power Slenderman trusted you with.She sees you below her and wholeheartedly believes she should've been in your place maybe with you sitting on her lap or something

She doesn't stand Clocky but still wants to be on her good side because she sees potential in her.Natalie knows this,but her boredom causes her to engage into Zero's little games

Jane observes you from a distance.She respects your job and how you manage to calm shit down,you're really one of the few persons she could look up to if she's honest

If only you weren't so busy with proxy duties she would come forward to you and warm up more

She would adore the tought of the two of you drinking tea in her room,simply enjoying each others presence while talking about matters both of you can't control

Jane would notice if one lock of your hair isn't in the right place but she wouldn't tell you if you're closer to her,instead,she would simply gently fix it

She gives me mommy vibes

Nina sees you as her best friend,you are the one to tell if it's one sided or not.The way you move,act,and manage to do it all amazes her..you are both a mentor and a friend to her.

She could talk the whole day about how amazing you are,and she actually has a few pages in her journal with notes about you

The girl can be like that one annoying kid at the park that gives you all of their toys just to spend time with them lol

You inspire her and she genuinely believes you make her a better person-a better woman.She lets you know this and even if you don't believe her,your existence deeply had a positive impact on her mental health

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #y/n #headcanons #jane the killer #nina the killer #jane arkensaw #jane the killer headcanons #clockwork headcanons #creepypasta clockwork #clockwork #nina #zero creepypasta #kate the chaser #nina creepypasta

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solar-sunnyside-up · 6 months

Note

hey! sorry to bother you, but is there anything a teen without transportation in a rural area can do on their own? im pretty isolated, and theres barely anything around me.

Hey ya sprout 🌱

**A disclaimer Punk comes with some risk socially. Particularly if your in a rural area this risk goes up bc people Know You and also typically these spaces have a different vibe to alt ppl in general. Some activities are more or less risky and I'll try and do my best to give you a range of stuff from the whole spectrum! Of course this is a generalization of rural areas. Some palaces will be more cool then others depending in so many factors I couldn't go into here**

Rural solarpunk

Your gunna been to pick a topic, sorry babe. In order to not burn yourself out and in order to feel like you have an impact your gunna have to pick a cause to chip away at but I'll give you ideas! And remember just bc your focusing on one thing doesn't mean your ignoring or not helping others. Everything is interconnected and any help, helps all!

So let's give you some ideas to focus on:

Libraries- as a teen in particular you'll have access to a library at school, but depending on how big your town is you might have a public one as well. Become their biggest supporter! They are a great safe space, even conservative ones are still a good place to go for archiving/loitering purposes. They give you spaces to print stuff, to build clubs and community.

Archiving- if you cannot leave your house due to access you can always do stuff online and hear me out, i know when we do stuff online it feels like half points. Like we arent doing anything. I feel that with this blog, it feels so passive no matter how hard you work youll feel lesser. But Archiving is vital to humans! Think of the anthropologists wholl thank you down the road! Plus it does actually give you a way to have a physical representative of work your doing. Dvds, pirating media and archiving them to drives, collecting vinyls/tapes/cds!

DIY- To fight against fast fashion (although that barely exists in the towns I've been in tbh) and to stick out** you could make your own patches, battlejackets, gloves, etc.. They are statement pieces you can wear whenever your in town/at school/social spaces that ppl know what you stand for and who you are. Depending on who/where you are this might be risky so take what you can bare ok? You don't have to wear these items too you can just make them for later on!

Little libraries/little pantries- in a rural space you have more Gruella tactics you can take if you do them in random abandoned spaces. You could build a waterproof little pantry and stock it and leave info somewhere about it for ppl to drop off/pick up items. Stock it with mittens! With canned goods! With books! You might be able to do a space like this at school/library depending in how cool your town is too!

Zines- You could look into making a zine and even if it's digital you could have the QR code for download in places (stickers on lamp posts, flyers in school bathrooms, hidden in a churches pamphlet stacks >.>) making a zine is a cool task that is time consuming and informative and fun!

Vandalism- like I said you can often print off stuff at Libraries, or usually you can find a place to print stuff off near or at post offices depending on how modern your rural space is. if you have your own printer this will reduce your risk by quite a bit though! Create/find stickers or posters you want to toss across town or even school. I'd recommend starting off with some stickers and see how their handled, dipping your toes is important with these kinda things. If your really feeling it, and you know some abandoned places Moss Graffiti is also a good option! I've know ppl who have converted old abandoned stored to skate parks (I honestly have no idea how they built the ramps out of concrete but damn!! Good job guys!)

Also I'll leave you with 2 book recommendations as well-

Moxie - a RIOT GRRRL story about a girl who gets so fed up with her conservative town she makes a feminist zine and distributes it via girl bathrooms (even having a basically me too stickers and encouraging ppl to put it on boys lockers who have assaulted them). I know there's a movie, didn't seem to capture the same vibe tho so book!

Braiding Sweetgrass - this focuses a lot on reconnecting and adding story to nature around us and having science along side spirituality

#sporut guide #reaping week #solarpunk #hopepunk #anticapitalism #punk #rural #cottagecore #community #ecopunk #direct action

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

Hi I’ve just recently found your blog am I can say I’m.obsessed. I’m absolutely love imagining the close bond between a trainer and their Pokémon!

With that in mind I’d love to request a piece with a elderly garchomp who lost part of its arm fin and spike,old bones with stiff joints,cracked skin,old scars littering it’s body.it’s most prominent scar is right across his eye,now a milky white.

Garchomp was readers gramps,who used to be champion in alola,but due to the whole ultra beast fiasco it’s done a real number on his old boy.So he sent his buddy to his granddaughter in the sunny,warm region of Paldea to live out his golden years.

How would arven,penny amd Nemona react to this battle hardened but gentle old man dragon?

Aww yeah! I also love the concept of elderly pokemon. I remember seeing one of the poketoon episodes with a champion's charizard who was kinda in his elder years and I think it's neat they touched on that

I'll just do these as hcs! (and also I think it'd be cool if peepaw garchomp wore a necklace with a dragonium z crystal encased in it as a momento of his achievements)

........

Arven

When you first introduced your gramps' Garchomp to Arven...he was quite startled seeing how old and battle-scarred he looked.

However, you didn't seem all that concerned and calmly explained that this one used to belong to a family member who was an Alolan Champion.

Though after the invasion of the Ultra Beasts and everything else that happened, your gramps decided his Garchomp was due for a much-needed retirement. So he sent him over to you in Paldea, knowing you'll take good care of his ace.

Plus, Gar's known you since he was a little Gible, so he 100% trusted you.

Despite all he's been through, barely a mean bone in his body remains. He's just a gentle old soul who'd much rather relax in the sun and get nice baths. He knows his worst days are behind him.

Unsurprisingly, Casseroya Lake became his favorite spot, so you and Arven have a lot of picnics there. The dragons usually mind their business, although Gar's quite popular with the local Dreepy population, who flock to him like children.

But because Garchomps at this stage in their lives have a tough time walking and lose their ability to fly, you'll have to assist him with getting around places.

However he's very stubborn about going back into his pokeball.

Thanks to Arven adding herba mystica to his meals, he still retains a good deal of strength. And while it can't reverse the effects of aging, you reassure him that he doesn't have to use up his entire supply to keep Garchomp healthy.

Tbh your friend's gonna get a little sappy seeing you take care of this sweet elderly dragon, hoping that he'll grow old with Mabosstiff still by his side.

Penny

It never really hit her that Pokémon can just...grow old like humans do, until she met your gramps' Garchomp.

And the first question that comes out of her mouth is: "So is he like...a hundred years old or something?"

Obviously Gar's unamused, but forgives her anyways with a nuzzle.

Lowkey he scares her, even though you reassure her over and over he's as sweet as a Slurpuff.

Her eeveelution team, much to her shock, warm up to him fast. Especially Sylveon, who snuggles with him and helps you aid him with walking and whatnot.

Flareon also helps keep him cozy since his cracked skin makes him more vulnerable to the cold.

Despite all of this, it still takes a while for Penny to warm up to him and pet him.

The whole eevee team had to band together and literally nudge her over to him

Once she does, you teasingly praise her for overcoming her "Garchomphobia", which flusters her enough to send you a glare.

Meanwhile, ol' Garchomp's chuckling in the background, very happy you found some good friends here.

Nemona

You knew she was gonna flip out (with excitement) as soon as you let it slip that your grandpa, an Alolan Champion, had handed his Garchomp over to you.

She's seen the tournaments when she was younger..and is lowkey jealous you're related to somebody so famous.

But you made it very, very clear that this dragon is in retirement and is done with battling. For good.

He wasn't transferred to you to fight more Pokémon, but to enjoy his golden years.

Despite this, Nemona still got overexcited upon seeing him, examining the z-crystal encased in his necklace with stars in her eyes.

"This allowed you to use Devastating Drake, right???"

Ofc, still being a little bit of a showoff, Garchomp managed to mimic the z-move pose his trainer once used, much to her delight-

Then one of his joints popped and he had to stop before he was in too much pain.

She's infinitely apologetic about it, even though he doesn't mind.

#clanask #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon nemona #pokemon penny #garchomp #platonic #headcanons

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theharrowing · 3 months

Text

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Jungkook

Jungkook has to take care of a few things, and he makes a mess.

Or, the one with Jungkook, a cocktail of drugs, a bandolier of kunai knives, and 15 dead men.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Jungkook x a male stranger, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 8.5k

🗡️ mafia au, complicated relationships, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: discussion of drug use and manufacturing (mdma/ecstasy, methamphetamines, amphetamines); mention of homeless people being thought of as disposable; actual drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy laced with meth, all while drinking whiskey); use of molotov cocktail as a weapon; hand-to-hand combat; graphic knife violence & broken glass used as a weapon; killing 15 men; getting stabbed but not too badly; plenty of my annoying sense of humor.

🗡️ note: hello! welcome to the character pov chapters! these used to be locked behind a paywall but tbh i don't feel good asking people for money, so i am setting them free (cue Jimin.) this chapter is possibly my favorite written chapter for all of Collateral, and it is gory as all hell. i hope you love it!!!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - but it has undergone some pretty big non-beta'd edits

🗡️ posted feb. 2024 - originally sept. 2022 | read on ao3

The sounds of Jeongguk grunting while his fists repeatedly hit his punching bag are all that can be heard in his spacious home. So when Jeongguk glances up to find this morning's hookup standing against the frame of the hallway entrance in light blue boxer shorts, he startles, and, in a flash, pulls his gun from the holster around his hips.

The man jumps and throws his hands in the air while Jeongguk sighs and shakes his head, recalling who he is. He reaches back and slides the barrel of his weapon into place at the small of his back.

"Why are you still here?" Jeongguk asks, returning to punching the red sand-filled bag that hangs from the ceiling of his mostly empty living room.

Sweat runs down Jeongguk's face and neck, sticking his hair to his forehead. He wears his hip holster, a pair of black basketball shorts, and nothing else. With each strike of his bare skin against the bag, his knuckles sting.

"That's no way to speak to the guy who sucked your soul through your dick this morning," the man teases, and Jeongguk grimaces as he looks at the man, who grins.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "I never even learned your name. It's not that serious."

The man opens his mouth as if to respond, but Jeongguk raises his hand and says, "I don't want to fucking know. Be on your way."

For a brief moment, the man just stands and stares owlishly with his mouth gaping open, and Jeongguk resists the urge to pull his gun on him once more. Then the man shifts around on his feet and mutters, "You drove us here," with a dejected frown.

Jeongguk sighs with vexation. He pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs around through his contacts, and calls Hoseok, who answers after the second ring.

"Ggukie bun, to what do I owe the pleasure?" It sounds like Hoseok has his phone on speaker, which means he is most likely driving.

"Hyung, are you busy? I need someone driven home."

"I happen to be on my way back to the property now. Gimme ten? Gonna pick up Seokjin and then I'll swing by."

"Sounds good. Thank you, hyung."

Hoseok chuckles, says, "My pleasure, little bro," and hangs up.

Jeongguk shoves his phone back into his pocket and nods toward the front door, saying, "Your ride will be here in ten. You can wait outside."

With a huff, the man turns on his heels and walks back down the hallway to the guest room from which he came. Irritated, Jeongguk abandons his workout and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water. His house is a spacious and open concept with black countertops and silver appliances, all of which are pristine and practically empty.

Jeongguk pulls a tall, thin glass from the rack beside the sink, fills it halfway with water from the tap, and drinks most of it, only to dump out the rest. Then he rinses the glass off, sets it in the same spot it was before, and he returns to his punching bag, waiting for his guest to leave.

It only takes another moment for the man to appear in a black tee untucked over tight blue jeans. His hair is short, dark brown, and disheveled, and Jeongguk spares him a final passing glance before looking away. Some shuffling around is heard as the man puts on his shoes before the front door opens and closes.

Jeongguk grabs his gun from its holster and twirls it around his finger as he makes his way through the space and locks both deadbolts on the front door—not that the man would be able to bypass a retina scan and passcode to return inside. He heads up a flight of stairs beside the entrance toward his master bedroom and en suite to get ready to meet with Yoongi and Namjoon in thirty minutes, whistling some tune that is stuck in his head while the heavy, familiar weight of his glock grounds him.

Meetings make Jeongguk anxious. For as long as he has been part of Yoongi's family, nobody has given Jeongguk a reason for his anxiety; it is simply his natural state of being. He hates sitting and brainstorming, always finding himself spacing out and needing whoever was speaking to repeat themselves. He would rather be given an order and sent on his way.

And with the new girl in the house, everyone has the habit of getting sidetracked and steering the conversation to her. Especially Namjoon and Hoseok.

It is not as if Jeongguk doesn't like having her in the house, but he is tired of having to pretend to give a shit about new people. And, after the debacle with Ryujin, he is not eager to watch his boss fall in love with an outsider.

If there is one thing this world has taught Jeongguk, it is that to love is to die.

In his standard-issued black button-up tucked into black slacks, Jeongguk checks his appearance, running a hand through his unstyled hair. The front is growing out, falling just below his eyebrows, and it is another thing on the long list of shit he does not want to deal with.

Jeongguk straightens out his rolex and heads out through his dimly lit bedroom, down the short hallway to the flight of stairs that leads right to his front entrance. He sits on the second to last step and puts on worn-out doc marten boots, taking care to double tie the laces, and he adjusts the gun holster on his ankle so that it sits comfortably above his right boot.

Not that he will need a gun to go to Yoongi's place, but he may need one for where he plans on going after.

Jeongguk's home is the second closest to Yoongi's mansion, so rather than drive, he gets on his trusty 7-speed mint green bicycle. Strapped to the handlebars is a light brown handwoven basket in which he tosses a small black duffle bag. Jeongguk straddles the bike, gripping onto the soft brown handlebars, and sets off down his driveway, waiting as his weight triggers the security gate to open and let him be on his way.

It only takes three or so minutes for him to pull up to Yoongi's front gate. There is a path that connects all of their homes and allows them access without leaving any security gates, but the road has a nice steep hill that Jeongguk can get some real speed on, and he prefers that to the private path that is much more level.

As the gate opens granting Jeongguk access, he spots Hoseok and Seokjin standing hand in hand on Yoongi's stoop. From the smell of it, they are smoking a joint, and as Jeongguk gets closer, the sound of his tires on the cement driveway calls their attention.

Jeongguk grins and flicks the small aluminum bell on the handlebars twice, ringing it playfully. Yoongi's head appears from behind Seokjin's broad shoulders, and he smiles his wide, gummy grin that always sets Jeongguk at ease. Hoseok lets go of Seokjin's hand, and he turns to greet him.

"Who was the boy?" Hoseok teases.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shrugs. "How did you get back here so fast?"

"He didn't live too far," Hoseok responds with his hands on his hips.

Jeongguk knows the look in his eye—the squinted glare that suggests he isn't getting the information he desires and that he plans to pry more.

Hoseok continues, "I'm impressed you let him stay the night."

With a sigh, Jeongguk says, "I didn't. Picked him up this morning."

"This morning?" Seokjin asks as he turns and mimics Hoseok's stance—whether intentionally or simply because they spend too much time together, it is hard to say.

This is the facet of being the youngest that Jeongguk hates; he is always subject to twenty questions about what and who he does despite him almost never sticking his nose into their business. They love to pick on him, and it drives him crazy.

"Yeah, this morning," Jeongguk grumbles as he gets off his bike, walks it to the garage, and leans it against the painted steel panel door. "I had pent-up energy and couldn't sleep, so I went to Paradise and found someone to fuck."

Yoongi scoffs. A crooked smirk tugs on his lips—nothing but trouble—and Jeongguk braces himself for what he is about to say.

"Pent-up energy from bashing a man's brains in?"

Jeongguk hums in agreement and pushes his hand through his hair. "As if I'm the only one," he grumbles, making his way to the stoop. Seokjin holds a joint up to his lips, and Jeongguk reaches out and snatches it, sticking his tongue out as his elder, who squawks in dissent.

"You're certainly not the only one," Hoseok responds with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Yoongi shakes his head as he chuckles.

Jeongguk takes a deep inhale of the joint, enjoying the faint crackle of tobacco that has been mixed in. Smoke fills his lungs, and he holds it in, then tilts his head upward and blows the small plume out.

"Shall we?" Seokjin asks as he wraps his arm around Hoseok's waist. They are both dressed in black suits with white undershirts, with their hair styled a little nicer than usual, and Jeongguk wonders what they may be up to, but he doesn't want to ask. Unlike them, he hates to pry.

Yoongi, however, can always be trusted to unveil people's plans. "You'll be back in an hour or so?" he asks, reaching to smooth the lapels on Seokjin's dress shirt.

Hoseok nods and gives Yoongi a soft smile. "Seokjin is meeting with a few brokers at House of Cards, so while he's busy wooing them, I'll return in time to meet with you and Taehyung."

"Perfect," Yoongi responds with a satisfied smile. He turns to Jeongguk and says, "Namjoon's inside. Shall we?"

Jeongguk hums and holds the joint out toward Seokjin, who holds up his hand and shakes his head. Seokjin and Hoseok wave their goodbyes and walk toward the black sedan parked a few feet away, and Jeongguk waves the two fingers that cradle the slowly diminishing joint and follows Yoongi through the front door.

As he kicks out of his shoes, Namjoon comes down the stairs wearing a stupid smile that makes Jeongguk's stomach turn. What he and Yoongi get up to is their own business, but after what happened in the past, he hates the thought that the cycle is repeating itself. He has always wondered why the two of them can't just be happy together without having to play house with a third. But it is none of his business.

Smoking weed is probably a mistake. As Jeongguk lifts his hand to pass the joint to Namjoon, he already feels a little spaced out and way too relaxed. He approaches the blue velvet couch, sits on the end furthest from Yoongi's chair, and leans into the corner of it with one arm up on the armrest and the other slung around the back. Namjoon sits in the other corner, as close to Yoongi as possible, and angles his body toward Yoongi like the obedient little puppy he is.

As expected, the meeting loses Jeongguk's attention almost immediately, and he spaces out, rubbing his fingertips along the velvet fabric of the couch to make it dark and rough, only to smooth it out again.

Occasionally, Yoongi asks Jeongguk's opinion, catching his attention and reiterating whatever point it is he wants Jeongguk to weigh in on, and Jeongguk looks up, nods, and grunts.

The meetings always go this way. Everyone has a conversation around Jeongguk, and then they cater to Jeongguk's lack of attention in order to ask his opinion on trivial matters. He doesn't understand why this can't be done over text.

When they conclude the boring chunk of the meeting, and Jeongguk has grunted and nodded somewhere around eight to ten times, Yoongi sits forward in his chair—a movement that always catches Jeongguk's attention—then he angles his hips to reach into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a small baggie full of pills.

There are about eight pills in the bag, and they are little pink semi-squares. Without having a closer look, Jeongguk knows that they are ecstasy pills pressed with methamphetamines that were shipped from California, but he picks up the baggie anyway, inspecting them for the Iron Man logo imprinted on the back.

"These are trash," Jeongguk says, tossing them back onto the table.

One of these pills will have the user grinding their teeth so hard they are likely to chip one. Jeongguk once woke up from a bender that included these and other substances, and the sides of his mouth were so chewed up and swollen, he could barely eat soup.

Since then, he keeps a mouthguard in his duffle bag along with his weapons. He will never understand why Americans so willingly settle for garbage drugs.

"That they are," Yoongi responds with a smirk. "But we have already begun to manufacture smoother MDMA that gives you the high minus the mouth grinding, and I would like your guys to try to emulate a pill that has those qualities, plus the amount of methamphetamines found in these."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "If you want an upper that doesn't have a negative effect on the user's mouth, meth isn't the way to go."

"What about drugs that are meant to treat attention deficit?" Namjoon butts in.

Jeongguk tilts his head to show Namjoon he is listening and tenses his jaw to let him know that whatever it is, he better get to the point. Namjoon has a tendency to get long-winded, and Jeongguk finds it annoying. Namjoon seems unaffected and continues with a soft smile.

"Those pharmaceuticals don't often cause users to grind their teeth or get the other 'meth mouth' side effects. Perhaps we can find out how much meth is used in these pressed pills and test whether that same amount of Adderall or something similar would have a more pleasant effect. If your team doesn't still have Adderall or anything similar on hand, I'm sure we could get some smuggled in by the end of the week."

"Adderall isn't meth," Jeongguk mutters. "Amphetamines are a different class of stimulant, but...it might work. And I'm almost certain we have some on hand."

Jeongguk does not hate the idea. But he is not a scientist—none of them are. He has no clue if this idea will actually pan out. He does, however, have scientists under his employ, so he takes the baggie and shoves it into his pocket.

"Fine," Jeongguk says. "I'll talk to the team about it. Anything else?"

Namjoon shakes his head as if Jeongguk was directing the question to him, and Jeongguk ignores him to glance at Yoongi.

With a soft smile, Yoongi says, "Of course, we need to figure out who that Jae fellow is, who—"

"Already on it," Jeongguk interrupts, to which Yoongi sits up with a smile. "After some digging I found Jae and fourteen men who either knew about his plan or were helping him carry it out. I invited them all to a party at the private club. I'll pop by the warehouse on my way—kill two birds with one stone."

"Kill as many birds as needed," Yoongi responds with a dark, knowing gaze that sends an excited shiver through Jeongguk.

"You got it, boss."

* * *

Jeongguk stops at a red light just outside the city, gathers saliva under his tongue as he takes the baggie of shitty pink pills out of his front pocket, and pops one into his mouth. He makes a mental note of where everyone will be in an hour or two, banking on Seokjin still being in town, knowing he will be in absolutely no shape to bike home. Then he runs a hand through his hair, gives the bell on his bicycle a celebratory ding as the light turns green, and takes off.

The air is warm, but the breeze that hits him as he rides at a slight incline feels nice and cool. It centers him—a calm before he kicks up a storm.

So little of Jeongguk's life has ever been calm, and so he takes these moments whenever he can and holds them close to his heart. Driving would make everything go faster, and it would be much more convenient, and that is precisely why Jeongguk rides his bike instead.

Jeongguk's drug operations primarily take place in a warehouse district on the outskirts of the city in an abandoned area that has been left impoverished and ignored with intention. The syndicates like having dumping grounds—a place to make people disappear—and when Yoongi took over and extended his reign to this area, there were talks of cleaning it up to improve the quality of life, which he staunchly declined.

In fact, the area seems to only have gotten worse. Ironic, perhaps, that some of Yoongi's most state-of-the-art equipment is housed in this very district.

There were homeless populations, but once the warehouses became more useful and Jeongguk employed a team of scientists to begin manufacturing some of their heavy-hitter drugs, everyone was pushed out or eradicated. Or, if they had their wits about them, they were brought onto some of the more disposable teams.

Jeongguk veers from the busy streets and begins an uphill journey that quickly turns to dirt and gravel terrain. The bike bounces as Jeongguk leans into each stride, and then he pulls up to a small concrete compound of four identical grey rectangles with steel panel doors and a few run-down cars outside. He thumbs over a key fob in his pocket to cause the steel door on the second building from the left to lift open, and skids to a halt in front of it.

Whether the drugs are slowly starting to take effect or Jeongguk is anxious about meeting with his team, he is unsure, but there is a tremor in his hands as he rides into the dark cement enclosure and taps the button over the fabric of his slacks once more to close the door behind him.

Jeongguk parks his bike off to the side of the entrance, closes his eyes to take a deep exhale and shake out his limbs, then makes his way through the empty building to a set of steps in a far corner.

Two stories below is where the science team works, and Jeongguk takes the baggie of pink pills from his pocket, pulls one more pill out, seals the baggie shut, and rubs his thumb and finger over the plastic-covered pills as he makes his way downstairs.

* * *

The phone rings thrice before Seokjin picks up, and Jeongguk rubs his hand over his nose, stifling a sniffle as cocaine drips down the back of his throat.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Jin-hyung," Jeongguk says in a tone that lilts on being ragged and unsure. "A-are you still in Seoul?"

Jeongguk hears Seokjin sigh. "Are you high?"

"Hmm...not yet. But I will be."

Jeongguk absolutely is high. It crept up as he was discussing Yoongi's idea with the science team, and he got so antsy that he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Luckily, there wasn't much to say to the team in the first place; they are used to these kinds of requests and know more about the processes than anyone else, so Jeongguk had nothing to explain—he simply plopped the baggie onto a metal table, muttered their idea, and was out rather fast.

"Do you need a ride?" Seokjin asks, voice stern in a way that always makes Jeongguk anxious—like he is being spoken to like a child.

"Yeah," Jeongguk mutters. His mouth shivers and moves a little too slowly. "Yoongi encouraged me to go b-bird watching, and I'll probably overdo it."

"Bird wat—what did he tell you, exactly?"

Jeongguk giggles, realizing his mistake. Bird watching—how silly. "I'll be in your district. Gotta knock skulls together and find out who lost my pills. Might get messy."

"And you need a ride?"

"Yes, hyung."

"Did you drive?"

"Yes, hyung."

Another sigh. "Send me the coordinates. I can be there in about an hour."

"Thanks, hyung," Jeongguk sing-songs in a dazed voice as he pulls the phone from his ear and hangs up.

His bike tires crunch on gravel as he sits back on the seat, grips his handlebars, and begins to ride. Inside the wicker basket sits an empty duffle bag, the contents of which have been strapped to Jeongguk's chest, scratching his skin ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

The ride from the warehouses to the river feels simultaneously too fast and incredibly slow. Jeongguk's heart pounds as he continues to come up on the pill and ease into two too many tiny spoonfuls of cocaine. He wants a drink—something stiff as hell to take the edge off.

Tonight, in a private club near House of Cards, fifteen of Jeongguk's men are enjoying an evening of drinking and taking it easy in celebration of a great month of getting product onto the streets and sold. This, of course, is a lie; their month tanked once one of them pulled a significant amount of pharmaceuticals and ecstasy, and Jeongguk has gathered them all for easy disposal.

Namjoon and the lamb met with Changkyun to rough up a couple of men who spilled the beans about someone named Jae fucking with their supply. Afterward, Jeongguk put his ear to the ground and immediately started to hear whispers of other men who may have been working to help him. He found out who had been working close to Jae and who had been hanging out with him while off duty, and he made sure to extend invitations to all fifteen of them for a party at the club tonight.

Everyone who is actually worth a damn is currently in one of the warehouses having a lowkey shindig of their own, far away from the others, and none the wiser. They will all find out eventually, and Jeongguk looks forward to their loyalty being tested when they do.

The sun has begun to set, and a pinkish-orange glow colors the sky. Jeongguk likes to imagine the pink as a runoff of blood, picturing the stars above spilling the crimson liquid onto the earth, getting soaked up by the clouds.

He stands, straddling his bike, and stumbles it into a rack, feeling the dizzying tendrils of his high begin to wrap him in a tight hug. A valet worker walks over with a bike lock and begins to anchor the vehicle into place, then sends Jeongguk off with a deep bow.

"Mister Jeon," the buff security officer working the front door mutters with a bow of his head. He pats Jeongguk down as he asks, "What's on the menu tonight?" fingers tracing over pointed steel between his pecs.

"Teaching a lesson in loyalty," Jeongguk responds with a wide, sadistic smile. "Boss will send a cleanup crew; you just need to worry about keeping the men inside once the bartender leaves through the back."

The guard rubs his palm over the gun on Jeongguk's ankle, then stands and says, "Understood."

When Jeongguk walks into the small club, the men are all crowded in a circle, shouting over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Whenever these low-lives get thrown into a room together, all they want to do is fight. Jeongguk can barely see a tousle of bodies in the center of the group, but the sounds of grunting as hands and feet make contact with limbs and cheeks has adrenaline coursing through him.

The space is cast in a drug-induced fog, and Jeongguk's eyes slowly scan around and attempt to make sense of everything. There are no windows and only one exit, save for a secret door only staff have access to behind the bar. The building itself is solid brick with mahogany floors and deep red wallpaper. Lighting in the space is dim, appearing darker still since the scarce furnishings are rust red.

Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and orders a double whiskey neat—the shittiest they have on the rail. He likes to feel the burn as it travels from his lips to his chest—likes how every inch of his body responds in protest against something so wretched.

"You're off for the night," Jeongguk mutters, and the bartender nods, grabs a towel to wipe a wet spot from the bar top, and then walks into the back, abandoning his post.

Jeongguk pulls a vial of cocaine from around his neck, unscrews it, and begins to tap a small pile onto the sticky counter. He leans and sniffs as much as he can, first through one nostril and then the other, leaving the rest behind.

Then, he pulls the second little pink pill from his pocket, takes a dizzy step back, and pops it into his mouth. He reasons that the only way to come out of the other end of a bloodbath without ruining his ability to sleep at night is to become relentlessly high.

With the remainder of his whiskey, Jeongguk washes back the pill and attempts to formulate a plan. One of the men approaches the bar, and Jeongguk turns to find him leaning against the edge and looking around.

"Where the fuck is the bartender?" the guy asks, glancing at Jeongguk.

Recognition hits the man, and his eyes widen, then he stands up straight, turning to Jeongguk with his head bowed forward. "S-sir," he mutters, "I didn't see you there."

Jeongguk's heart pounds as he undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, reaches past the fabric, and pulls out a sharp steel kunai knife with a hole on the end of the handle through which Jeongguk sticks his index finger. He twirls the small, heavy knife and takes a step toward the man.

"Are you having fun tonight?" Jeongguk asks with a voice that is far too steady for how he feels.

The man eyes Jeongguk's knife and gives him an ugly, toothy smile. His hair is greasy, his brown shirt is stained on the front, and he smells like piss. "So much fun, boss! Thank you for giving us the night off."

Jeongguk nods. "I wanted to give a special congratulations to Jae. Have you seen him?"

At the mention of Jae, the man's eyes open widely, and he nervously looks around the bar. Then he nods with his chin and says, "Red shirt. W-want me to get him for you, boss?"

Every inch of Jeongguk tingles. A hazy, thick euphoria embraces him tightly and makes him want to dance—dance and sing and slit all of these men's throats until the floor is sticky with blood.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, aware of how tense his jaw is becoming, and moves it around as if stretching it out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rounded plastic container in which he stores his mouthguard, and he shakes his head at the man before him.

"I'll take care of it," Jeongguk says as he pops the container open, pulls out the clear guard, and shoves it snugly into his mouth.

"Oh—okay," the man says, taking a step away from Jeongguk, who continues to stare him down with his lips spread over the clear plastic covering his teeth.

Jeongguk twirls the kunai on his finger and takes a step toward the man. The man jolts as if startled by a jump scare, and he takes a clumsy step back, tripping into a barstool and reaching back with his hand to steady it. Everything seems to move too fast and too slow, and Jeongguk finds he can only process that which is immediately in his line of sight—everything else is a hazy wash of light and color.

This is the sweet spot. Any higher, and Jeongguk might not be able to perform.

Jeongguk spins on the balls of his boots, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hoists himself up, landing surprisingly steadily on the bar top. Then he hops down onto the other side and straightens himself as he allows his eyes and brain to catch up to one another, scanning the bottles on the shelves. There are a lot of clear bottles, but only one of them is the vodka he desires.

"W-what are you doing, boss?" the man asks.

"Making a cocktail," Jeongguk shouts over his shoulder.

"Gin...close..." Jeongguk mutters to himself, mouth full of plastic and twirling his kunai. Fidgeting helps him focus, especially with methamphetamines coursing through his blood.

"W-what kind of cocktail, boss?" the man asks, and Jeongguk huffs an impatient sigh. He hates being bothered; why is this man bothering him?

"Ah, here you are," Jeongguk mumbles as he finds a nearly full bottle of Smirnoff 100-proof vodka. He pulls the bottle spout out and drops it to the floor—metal clattering on brick—then turns and searches the rail for a rag.

"Molotov," Jeongguk shouts as he takes the corner of the stained rag and begins twisting it into a small enough tip to shove into the bottle.

"What?"

Jeongguk has to use the kunai to slice part of the rag away, and he tosses the useless strip over his shoulder, then continues to shove the rag into the neck of the bottle, leaving a couple inches sticking out from the top.

Satisfied with his work, he pulls a gold-plated zippo lighter from his pocket and flicks it open against his thigh in one swift motion, igniting the flame in the process. Then he holds the flame up to the rag and watches with delight as the end of the dirty fabric catches. He pops the lighter closed and drops it back into his pocket, then he sets the flaming cocktail aside.

With the kunai dangling from around his finger, Jeongguk pulls out his mouthguard, dribbling spit that has gathered around it down his chin as he says, "Molotov," more clearly with a grin.

The man looks on in horror, frozen in place, and Jeongguk shoves the guard back into his mouth, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hops back up, onto his feet in a squatting position. Without warning, Jeongguk picks up the bottle, chucks it overhand toward the crowd, sending it high enough to hit the ceiling, and he smiles widely as the bottle explodes and rains liquid fire down onto the men.

Laughter rocks through Jeongguk, and he loses his balance, falling backward onto his palms against the bar. He sits flat on his butt and swings his legs over the edge of the counter, watching as men panic and scream.

Most of them will have minor burns. Several men run around flailing while their shirts and hair singe, and one man rolls on the floor, desperate to put out the flames. In the chaos, Jeongguk spots Jae off to the right, away from the fire, and he hops down from the bar to make his way over to him, pulling his mouthguard out.

"Yo, Jae!" Jeongguk shouts, and the man in red turns quickly and begins to run toward Jeongguk.

"Boss, you have to help us!" Jae shouts frantically, clearly drunk. "Someone threw fire at us!"

Jeongguk giggles and takes Jae roughly by the bicep as he mutters, "You, come with me."

Jae stumbles but compiles, and Jeongguk drags him several more feet away. Beside the bathrooms of this old building are thick pipes that stick out from the brick, and Jeongguk yanks the man close to one as he reaches into his pocket for some metal handcuffs, fumbles with opening one end of the cuffs, then locks it around Jae's wrist in a tight squeeze.

A shout rips through Jae's chest, and he attempts to get away but then throws a punch. Jeongguk takes the impact of his fist to the jaw and then slams his forehead into Jae’s face, knocking him backward into the wall.

Jae's head hits brick, making him grunt, and Jeongguk manages to reach the man’s hand over his head and secure the open cuff to one of the pipes.

Adrenaline from absorbing the punch has Jeongguk's nerves singing to life, and he punches Jae in the stomach for good measure, then turns to find the man at the bar shaking while leaning against it with a look of horror on his face.

"Why so scared?" Jeongguk mock pouts.

The man shakes his head and whimpers, "Wh-what's going on, boss?"

"You know what's going on," Jeongguk mutters with a grin.

The man shakes his head again, this time more frantically.

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, sending a dizzying wave through his body. "No? Because if you told me what happened, I would consider letting you live."

The flash of hope that widens the man's eyes tells Jeongguk everything he needs to know, and he advances quickly—crowds the man's space. A quick glance over his shoulder shows the rest of the group is still broken out into chaos with men attempting to help others put out the remaining fire and get to their feet. A few blurry bodies are on the outskirts of the crowd, but nobody appears to be approaching him.

"Tell me what happened," Jeongguk growls as he turns back to the man at the bar.

"J-J-Jae s-said if w-we cover for him, we'd get a cut."

"A cut of what?" Jeongguk asks.

The man screws up his face as if Jeongguk's question is ridiculous. "Money, s-sir."

"Money for what?"

The man shakes his head. He knows he is fucked—that he has already said too much—and he nibbles on his lip, which trembles. Jeongguk brings the kunai up to the man's throat and presses the tip against his jugular notch.

"Answer me."

"P-pills!" the man shouts. "Narcotics and party drugs. He t-took them off the last shipment while you were distracted."

"Distracted, hmm? Tell me, what was I distracted by?"

At this, the man begins to panic and twist as if hoping that he can get away somehow. So there is more to this story than them simply stealing from him to turn a profit. Interesting.

"Boss?" a voice comes from behind Jeongguk, and he grits his teeth hard and pushes the kunai into the man's jugular, turning his face away from the spray of blood. The man gargles and thrashes, and Jeongguk takes a step back and allows him to fall to the floor and bleed out.

One down, fourteen to go.

Jeongguk pops his guard back into his mouth, spins on the balls of his feet with a wide plastic smile, and finds two worried-looking men standing before him. He reaches into his shirt, pulls another kunai off the bandolier of blades strapped to his chest, and begins to twirl them both—one on each index finger.

The major downside of having to be this high to commit mass murder is that his aim is shit. The entire point of having so many knives strapped to him is to throw them at his targets without needing to immediately retrieve them. Instead, Jeongguk straps the belt around his chest as a means to ground himself—a tight, scratchy hug.

Jeongguk advances on the two men. One stumbles backward and begins to run back to the group while the other gets an angry glint in his eye and comes in swinging. Jeongguk guards his punch by driving the tip of a knife through the man's forearm, then punches his other knife into the man's neck. For good measure, Jeongguk kneels as the man falls and slices his throat open to quicken his bleeding.

Two down, thirteen to go.

When Jeongguk stands, stumbling as he finds his balance, he notices some men crowding around him while others attempt to escape. Jeongguk feels himself fly into a blind rage as he approaches the small group and begins punching and stabbing, absorbing hits that are nowhere near as damaging or lethal as the ones he doles out. He barely feels it when fists make impact with him, and he giggles wildly when one punch lands on the kunai under his shirt and slices the man's knuckles.

"You ruined my shirt, you fuck," he complains through his mouthguard as he punches a knife into the soft tissue and cartilage the man's face, still giggling like a madman.

A glance around the space shows Jae in his corner, three men at the door attempting to beat it down, and two men on the far-end wall huddled up. A couple men groan and crawl against the floor, and Jeongguk has no idea how many of them are dead or dying, so he advances on the three by the door.

Jeongguk takes a chance and flings one of the knives, and it whirs satisfactorily and hits one of the men in the shoulder. The man yelps and falls to his knees, clearly assuming something far worse has happened to him, and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to advance and take the other two out while he is down.

A knife to the throat here, a headbutt followed by a knife to the throat there, and Jeongguk is bending behind the last man, pulling the knife from his back and reaching around to the front of his neck to slice it open. Jeongguk gets to his feet, stretches his neck from side to side, and turns to survey the scene.

The two men who were by the far wall must have gained courage, and they come barreling toward Jeongguk. One slips on blood and falls back against the floor with a loud smack, but the other manages to get close enough to attempt to slash at Jeongguk with a piece of broken glass. Once again, Jeongguk blocks the punch with a knife to the forearm, then punches a knife into the throat, watching with a plastic grin as the man falls to the ground.

Groans and gargles fill the space, and Jeongguk catches his breath as the room sways and twists before him. His mouth is dry, and the smell of brassy blood is overwhelming, and Jeongguk wants to curl up in a ball and take a nice big nap.

On the floor, the man who had slipped and fallen convulses, and Jeongguk wonders if his head has been pierced by broken glass. Nobody seems to be getting up, so Jeongguk surmises he must have fourteen down with only one left.

Jeongguk wipes the back of his wrist against his forehead, undoubtedly coating it in sweat and blood, and he turns back to Jae. Blood runs down Jae's wrist, and he shakes like a leaf on a tree—he has clearly been attempting to pull himself from the handcuff. Jeongguk pulls his mouthguard out, sucks in some of the saliva that has pooled, and shoves it into his pocket beside its case.

"Last man standing," he slurs as his high becomes unbearable. "You have three minutes to spill before I kill you."

The tangy scent of urine hits Jeongguk's nose, and he looks down to find a large wet spot on the front of Jae's jeans. He shakes his head and scoffs.

"It wasn't my idea," Jae whimpers. Jeongguk cocks his head and studies the man's face—is he crying? What a fucking wimp.

"Whose idea was it?"

"You know whose!" Jae shouts. "The same family that sent the man to fuck up your boxer! The same family who attacked your whore! They're sending people from all sides to throw you off your game and shake you up!"

"My whore?" Jeongguk growls as he grabs Jae tightly by the jaw. "Jimin isn't my whore, and speaking about one of my family men like that is a good way to get a knife shoved into your filthy little piss hole."

Fear visibly shakes through Jae, who thrashes in Jeongguk's hold. He even grabs onto Jeongguk's wrist with his free hand in a feeble attempt to yank Jeongguk's grip off of his jaw. Jeongguk headbutts him again and squeezes tighter as a dizzying quake rocks through him.

"Why did you accept her offer? Were you really stupid enough to think you wouldn't get caught?"

Jae scoffs and shakes his head, appearing to act tough with tears on his cheeks. "She has men on the inside."

Jeongguk squints, losing his ability to see clearly even as close to Jae as he is. "On the inside? On my team?"

"Well...she did. You killed most of them."

"Who are the others?" Jeongguk demands, and Jae laughs.

"You got everything from me that you could," Jae says. Jeongguk thinks he sees Jae's eyes flash to the side and back, but it takes him too long to process it before Jae mutters, "Kill me and be done with it."

Jeongguk takes a step back, ready to drive the knife into Jae's throat and move on, but an arm snakes around Jeongguk's torso and hot, piercing pain hits him on his side. Jeongguk drives a knife into the hand around his waist, piercing his own skin from the impact, and he yanks the knife away in time for another piercing pain to hit him between his shoulder blades.

Only as Jeongguk spins and finds one of the blood-soiled men holding a jagged, bloodied piece of glass does Jeongguk realize he has been stabbed. He grunts as he thrusts both of his knives into the man's guts and shoves the man back until he slips on blood and falls to the floor.

"Fuck!" Jeongguk shouts in frustration as he spins around and slices Jae's throat open in a broad, sloppy motion. He does not want to deal with stab wounds of all fucking things.

Jeongguk slowly steps back and looks around the room, swaying as he turns and attempts to survey the carnage left behind. Everything is a blur of reds and browns with hints of whites and blues, and Jeongguk stumbles toward the bar to sit down on a stool and catch his breath.

The pain in his side and back tingle-throb, and Jeongguk attempts to remember how to tend to a stab wound, but all he can do is grind his teeth and rest back against the bar top. When the door to the club flies open, Jeongguk doesn't register who approaches until he hears Seokjin's nagging shouts and feels him prodding at Jeongguk's torso.

"Yah, are you injured?" Seokjin shouts, fussing about at Jeongguk's side where his hand is weakly pressing against a wound.

Jeongguk hisses and nods, and then he giggles at the thought of any of these men thinking they could kill him. How stupid of them.

"Where did you park?" Seokjin asks as he gets Jeongguk onto his feet with his arm draped over Seokjin's broad shoulders.

"Front," Jeongguk mutters.

All the world is a blur of lights and colors, streaked and sloppy before Jeongguk's eyes. He steps into the cool night air, and the security guard says something he does not comprehend, and then he fumbles down the short set of steps, onto the sidewalk.

"Jeongguk, I don't see any of your cars," Seokjin says as he shakes him roughly.

Pulled to alertness for a split moment, Jeongguk hums and says, "Ol' minty," while flinging his hand in the direction of his bike.

"Wh—Jeonggukah!" Seokjin shouts. "You said you drove here! I asked you if y—oh, this is unbelievable."

"I dr—I drove my bike," Jeongguk slurs.

Jeongguk is led to his bike where the blurry valet attendant is bowed before him, and Seokjin gets him to straddle the small metal cargo rack above the back tire.

"Feet on the pegs!" Seokjin barks as he lifts Jeongguk's feet one at a time and places them onto small metal pegs that are screwed onto his back tire.

Jeongguk somewhat obeys—he has done this many times before—but his feet slip a few times until he is steady. Then Seokjin moves the bicycle away from the bike rack, tells Jeongguk to hold on tight, and once Jeongguk wraps his arms around Seokjin's ribs and leans his head on his back, they are off.

Seokjin smells nice. Like cigars and the expensive cologne that Hoseok insists he wears. He takes in a nice deep breath and groans happily before letting it out. The night air feels cool on his skin, and he smiles as Seokjin drives them home.

From time to time, Jeongguk hears an unintelligible grunt or groan, but he ignores it; he will undoubtedly hear it again once he has sobered up, so there is no use trying to strain the few remaining brain cells that are still working to try to make sense of it now.

The ride from the city to the property is usually around thirty minutes when it is just Jeongguk. He has no concept of how much time has passed as he attempts to watch a tree line blur by, and although the scenery is familiar and Jeongguk thinks he has some idea of how close they could be, he does not dwell on it. Instead, he closes his eyes.

When the bicycle finally skids to a stop, Jeongguk nearly topples over. Seokjin swears and mutters, and Jeongguk attempts to place his feet on the concrete driveway, but his legs melt like hot wax, and he sinks downward as the weight of his collapsing bicycle drags him to the ground.

Seokjin manages to get Jeongguk untangled from his vehicle and picks him up over his shoulder, carrying Jeongguk potato-sack-style toward a light that shines out into the night through some windows. He hears the mechanical beeping of the locking mechanism and then the door crashes open. The sounds of three particular voices gasping tells Jeongguk that he has been brought to Yoongi's house.

"Taehyung," Seokjin mutters. "I think he's been stabbed. There doesn't seem to be a lot of blood loss; I think he's delirious from being high."

There is some shuffling around, and Jeongguk hangs over Seokjin's shoulder, feeling sleepy and, frankly, completely unbothered by anything.

So he may have gotten stabbed once or twice, so what? He found out more information, and he got to let go of some of his pent-up rage. His jaw aches, however, and he wishes he had not taken his mouthguard out.

Jeongguk is transferred to a different strong person, and Jeongguk wraps his arms around the different neck and hugs closely. After a split moment, he realizes by the clean smell of lotion and eucalyptus shampoo that it is Taehyung, and Jeongguk smiles as he carries him back outside.

"Stabbed?" Taehyung mutters curiously as the night air hits Jeongguk's cheeks and makes him shiver.

The walk to Taehyung's house from Yoongi's is short, and Jeongguk buries his face into Taehyung's neck as he mutters, "Mmhmm."

Silence falls, save for the crunch of dirt under Taehyung's shoe. Jeongguk thinks he begins to fall asleep, roused by the sound of Taehyung's deep, soft voice.

"Are the wounds deep?"

Jeongguk shakes his head, although, truth be told, he has no idea. There is a wet spot on his back, but it does not feel very big, and the one on his side is pressed against Taehyung.

"How many bodies?" Taehyung asks softly.

The sounds of Taehyung's feet crunching over gravel feels oddly calming to Jeongguk, and for some inexplicable reason, he feels the urge to cry.

"Fifteen," Jeongguk mutters with a tremble. He is cold, and he grips onto Taehyung tighter in search of warmth.

Taehyung tsks and chuckles. "So reckless. You don't have to do these jobs alone, you know? You can take one of us."

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters, feeling defeated and miserable.

Another chuckle comes from Taehyung, instantly lifting Jeongguk's spirits and making him feel okay. "Don't apologize, baby. We just worry about you."

Jeongguk nods against Taehyung's neck and mutters, "Okay."

"I can't believe how mean you are to me," Taehyung whines in a mocking tone as he leans the two of them forward to punch in the password to his front door.

Taehyung opens the door and switches on a foyer light, then makes his way down a short ramp into his basement, where his exam rooms and surgical equipment are. The fluorescent lighting makes Jeongguk groan and squeeze his eyes closed.

"First, Hoseok tells me you brought home some nobody to fuck," Taehyung continues to mock-pout, "and then you show up all cut and bruised. Starting to make me think you don't need me anymore, baby."

Jeongguk knows Taehyung is being playful, but he cannot stop himself from taking it very personally, and the sloshing of heightened emotions has him feeling incredibly sad.

Taehyung means more to him than anyone in the world, which is precisely why Jeongguk tends to keep him at arms-length sometimes. Tears spill from Jeongguk's eyes.

"S-sorry, hyung."

"Awe, my poor crybaby," Taehyung sing-songs as he sets Jeongguk onto a leather exam table covered in a white paper sheet.

Jeongguk continues to hold onto Taehyung tightly until two strong hands wrap around his wrists and pull his arms down. He does not want Taehyung to see him cry, even though it would not be the first time—nor the last.

"Are you bored of me, Ggukie? Is that why you don't call me anymore?"

"D-don't want to bother you," Jeongguk whimpers pathetically, swiftly crashing from his high and feeling the full array of his emotions.

Jeongguk opens his eyes a crack to find Taehyung hovering over him and unbuttoning his soiled shirt. Taehyung chuckles at the sight of the blades and reaches around Jeongguk’s back to undo the belt and pull it free. Then he pulls Jeongguk's shirt away, making Jeongguk shiver, and he surveys the first wound.

"Not too deep," Taehyung says as he meets Jeongguk's gaze and smiles. For the first time in a while, Jeongguk can clearly see in front of him, and he thinks Taehyung is more beautiful than ever. Taehyung quietly studies his face. "You seem to be coming back to me. How do you feel?"

Terrible, Jeongguk thinks. He can't tell if he is fully coming down or if the second pill still has more high to give him, but he trembles and his bones feel restless in his skin, and he cannot keep his emotions from teetering from one extreme to the other, especially with Taehyung looking down at him the way he does.

"Shitty," is all Jeongguk says.

"Let's get you into a nice warm bath," Taehyung suggests with a grin that makes Jeongguk melt. "We'll clean your wounds, and then you'll show me what you did to that pretty boy who you picked up this morning. Sound good?"

Jeongguk will need a lot of cocaine to keep up with Taehyung, especially in this state, and he nods and attempts a smile, feeling his teeth clatter in his mouth.

"That's my good baby," Taehyung groans in a tone so deep, it makes a chill rock through Jeongguk.

There is only one person who Jeongguk lets his guard down for—lets do anything he pleases. And although Taehyung is absolutely terrifying and will undoubtedly be the death of him, Jeongguk cannot tell him no.

thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoy these extras. i lament only writing from one point of view, so these have been a lot of fun for me. hopefully it's not too confusing plopping them into the story as early as chapter 10.

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tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one! if you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!!! 💜💜💜

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