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whowritessometimes · 19 days

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Back and Forth - Art Donaldson x Reader

A Stanford!Art Donaldson and Stanford!Reader fic :) Kinda slow burn, very soft very sweet.

Word Count: 3.9k

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The California summer sun beamed down on the court, making the colors of the advertisements and signs around you appear almost neon. Upbeat music flowed through speakers that you couldn't quite place, embodying the feeling of the tennis matches that surrounded you, the back-and-forth beat pulsating through your head. It was almost overstimulating, but this was your normal.

You were pre-med at Stanford, volunteering at some local tennis camp to fill your summer and add fodder to your resume. You didn't do much, occasionally helping some rich, pompous kid stretch out their wrist, or their knee, or their ankle, or whatever. The days blurred together, they all spoke to you in the same condescending way. For most people, it would be mind-numbing.

But it was exhilarating. You had this intrinsic love for tennis, you always had. Perhaps it was that love that led you to signing up for this gig, and not the resume experience. But you would never admit that to anyone. You had played tennis for fun your whole life, with your family growing up, with your friends in high school. It was only when you shattered your wrist sophomore year that you had to stop.

It sucked. It sucked at the time, and it sucked now. You weren't professional-level at tennis, not like these people, but it was nice to have a hobby unlike anything else people expected you to do. The pre-med thing, the reading, the studying, it came naturally to you. And it wasn't like you didn't enjoy it, and it wasn't like you weren't good at it, but you loved tennis. And every now and again, you missed it.

So here you were. Your head followed all the heads in the crowd in a practiced, synchronized, subconscious back-and-forth. There wasn't really ever a crowd, the games at the program were often informal, the audience often consisted of coaches and other players. But this was a unique match, Stanford's players engaged in a captivating display of athleticism. It was almost like a dance, the way they seemed to know the moves of the other before they made them. You could feel the intensity from your tent by the end of the bleachers.

Stanford's star player (well, one of them)—Art Donaldson. You'd half-watched him play from your tent whenever you weren't working. He was elusive, but undoubtably one of the best there. You had never spoken. He was enigmatic, focused on his training and on helping others. He had perfect technique, people said. Now, you had the chance to really see how he was. And he was. Top of his game.

Usually.

The air was thick with humidity. Your gaze flickered between the players, boredom warring with the gnawing anxiety that always hummed beneath the surface during matches. Then, a sound sliced through the rhythmic thwack of the tennis balls—a sharp cry of pain.

Your head snapped left like a whip, your heart leaping into your throat. There, sprawled on the opposite side of the net, lay Art. His face was contorted in agony, one hand clutching his ankle at an unnatural angle. His racket lay a few feet away, as forgotten as the polite pleasantries that had filled the air before the match.

The shitty plastic chair beneath you creaked in protest as you scrambled to your feet. Ignoring the surprised yelp from the equally shitty excuse for a supervisor you'd been assigned for the summer tennis program, you sprinted across the court. Dust billowed in your wake, blurring the vision that was already swimming with a mix of dread and the adrenaline rush that always came with seeing someone hurt.

You skidded to a halt beside him, kneeling. His eyes, usually bright with playful competitiveness, were screwed shut, teeth clenched as he fought back a string of obscenities you knew all too well.

"Hey," you said, forcing your voice to remain calm despite the tremor running through your body. He flinched at the sound of your voice, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his normally confident expression.

"Hey," he managed to rasp out, opening one eye a sliver. He tried to push himself up, but his face crumpled again as a fresh wave of agony shot through him.

"Don't move," you ordered, the calmness in your voice surprising even you. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was slick with sweat, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from his injured ankle.

"'S bad, huh?" he breathed, a flicker of vulnerability in his voice.

The concern in his eyes sent a jolt through you. It wasn't just the pain; it was the fear.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice softer now, "We'll get you checked out. Just...hold still."

Ignoring the sting of sweat in your eyes, you carefully slipped your arm around his waist, offering what little support your slight frame could provide. Heaving him halfway onto your leg, you began the slow, agonizing walk towards the medical tent. Each step sent a spike of pain through Art's leg, reflected in the way he gritted his teeth and winced with every movement.

The supervisor, finally spurred into action, scurried behind you, muttering something about ice packs and paramedics. But your focus remained solely on Art, on getting him to help as quickly as possible.

You knew what it was like. Maybe that's what spurred your immediate action, your need to help him recover, to keep playing. You knew what it was like.

The antiseptic sting of the medical tent assaulted your nose as you hovered beside the injured player. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he clenched his jaw with each prod from the trainer.

"Think they all saw that?" he finally rasped, a hint of amusement battling the pain in his voice. You blinked, surprised by his oddly timed humor.

"Doubt it," you played along, a small smile tugging at your lips. "'S not like you're Art Donaldson or anything."

A sheepish grin replaced his grimace. "Thank god."

The trainer finished his work, leaving you and the injured player alone in a tense silence. He cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours for the first time.

"So," he began, trailing off as he stared into the ceiling of the tent. There was something in his expression, the physical pain, the fear that comes with injury, the odd quiet of an unfinished game.

"So," you mimicked, sitting next to him in another shitty chair.

Something hung in the air, something all too familiar to you. He turned his head to look at you, to make eye contact, keeping his body flat on the cot. You realized then how close you were. Close enough to see his eyes, the sharp point of his jawline, the strawberry blond of his curls.

You averted your gaze, looking out into the brightness of the tent entrance. The typical ambiance of the outside seemed to be drowned by the odd intimacy you'd created together, the silence between you and Art seemed to be the only noise you could hear. His shoddy breathing, despite his attempts to pretend he was okay, only brought you back to when you felt the same way he did, all those years ago.

A blush crept up your neck. You fumbled for something, anything, to break the charged silence in the tent. "I, uh, broke my wrist sophomore year," you blurted, surprised by the words leaving your lips. "Tennis, ironically. One minute I'm playing—probably terribly—and then I'm in the ER holding a bag of frozen peas. And, I don't know, I guess I'm just saying... I get it. Sort of."

"You trying to distract me?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," you admitted, a hesitant smile mirroring his. "Is it working?"

"Yeah, actually," he conceded, leaning back on the cot. "Tell me more."

You felt a genuine laugh bubble up from your chest, the first since the moment you saw him crumpled on the court.

---

And that was really the last time you saw Art. Suffice to say you hadn't forgotten about the encounter. It was actually stupid, how often you thought of it. He didn't even know your name, but you remembered the timbre of his voice, the softness of his gaze.

In your defense, he was hard to avoid. Now that the spring semester had started, tennis season was in full swing. His picture was plastered around the most of the facilities you frequented, future NCAA champion Art Donaldson.

The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine hung heavy in the crisp California air as you hurried across the bustling Stanford campus. The semester had sprung with a vengeance, bringing with it the usual flurry of activity—overloaded backpacks, animated discussions about last night's party, and the ever-present anxiety of looming deadlines.

Today, however, an extra weight sat on your shoulders. Your pre-med advisor dropped a last-minute surprise: mandatory tutoring for a struggling athlete. Juggling med school coursework with a part-time job at the campus health center was already a tightrope walk, and adding this felt like a precarious extra step. But you managed it, as you did most things. How you had some semblance of a social life was a mystery. And maybe your very obvious lack of a love life was why you thought about Art so often. You didn't have time to psychoanalyze yourself, though. You barely had time for whatever this tutoring session was about to be.

Reaching the designated classroom, a small, windowless space usually reserved for last-minute group study sessions, you took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy door. The sterile light inside momentarily blinded you, but as your eyes adjusted, a sight unfolded that caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Sprawled across a cluttered table, papers piled haphazardly around him, was a man who you'd spent the better part of the last few months thinking about.

There, unmistakably, was Art. His signature strawberry blond hair, slightly longer than you remembered, covered with a backwards baseball cap, curled at the edges, framing his face. A deep furrow creased his brow, a testament to the frustration radiating from his hunched form as he focused on a massive biology textbook. An unsettling warmth bloomed in your chest, a reaction entirely too potent for a tutoring session.

The memory of him sprawled on the opposite side of the tennis court last summer, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, flickered across your mind. The panic that had gripped you then seemed almost comical now. The sterile environment and the way his eyes had held a curious blend of pain and something else—gratitude, maybe?—all formed a vivid memory you hadn't realized had imprinted itself so deeply.

His presence filled the small room, unexpectedly stealing your breath and injecting a jolt of something entirely different into the monotonous routine of your day. A shyness spread across your face, tinged with an unfamiliar nervousness as you cleared your throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the sudden silence.

A slow smile took over his features as he looked at you, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you were caught in that smile, a memory resurfacing from the hazy days of summer.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice warm. He reached a toned arm, pulling out a chair for you.

"Hi," you blinked, momentarily flustered by the gesture and the echo of familiarity in his voice. There was a moment of tension in the air, of uncertainty, of a strange sense of reconnection. Finally, you managed to force out the words, "How are you?"

"My ankle's a lot better now, if that's what you're asking," he replied with a playful glint in his eyes. His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, making you hyperaware of the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

"You remember me?" you blurted out, the question leaving your lips before you could stop it.

"Course I remember you," he said, his voice laced with amusement. You couldn't ignore the way his eyes flickered from your face down to your body, and back up. Blatantly checking you out. And you could hear his smile in the way he spoke, warm and genuine, sending a familiar flutter through your stomach. The memory of his teasing laughter in the sterile medical tent resurfaced.

"Right," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You shifted in your chair, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of his gaze on you.

The next hour or so unfolded in a way that surprised you both. Art's initial confusion melted away as you hovered next to him, animatedly explaining each concept. Social life, love life, Art Donaldson, you couldn't explain. Biology, medical stuff, sports, you understood.

And he was beginning to as well. Time became a forgotten entity, measured only by the turning of pages and the occasional frustrated groan from Art. He wasn't the cocky athlete you'd half-imagined, but someone with a genuine curiosity about the world around him and some kind of depth hidden beneath his confident facade on the court.

Finally, Art leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "We should probably call it," he declared, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. He thanked you, looking into your eyes as he said your name, the syllables dancing off his tongue in a way that made you feel like it was more than a word you had offhandedly mentioned to him.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

The study sessions became a regular occurrence. The two of you exchanged numbers, only to arrange meetings, you reminded yourself.

But whenever he called, you found yourself talking about so much more than biology. It started with him asking how you were, a simple courtesy that somehow felt more genuine coming from him. Yet, as you replied, a comfortable ease would settle in. You'd find yourself laughing at inside jokes, dumb stories, the kind that wouldn't be particularly funny to anyone else, would mindlessly tumble out, fueled by the comfort you felt in his presence. It was a kind of nonsense, a space where you could just be yourself, and somehow, it felt like everything and nothing all at once.

---

Now, it was late, and it was finals week.

Papers and textbooks were scattered across your desk, a battlefield of scribbled notes and highlighted passages. You were in the trenches, neck-deep in the intricacies of biochemistry, desperately trying to cram information into your sleep-deprived brain.

Suddenly, the familiar buzz of your phone cut through the silence of your cramped dorm. You fished it out of your pocket, a flicker of annoyance battling with the ever-present hope that it might be a break, a distraction from the relentless onslaught of scientific jargon. Gratefulness shot through you when you saw Art Donaldson's name on the screen.

You answered the call. His voice crackled through the phone, laced with desperation. "I need your help," he blurted out, completely unlike his usual easygoing self. "What the fuck is molecular cell biology?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "In general?" you replied, already picturing the hours that it would take to explain the subject. Finals be damned, apparently.

"Can you just come over?" he groaned. "If you aren't doing anything."

You glanced back at the flashcards on your desk. "I'm not doing anything."

So here you were, knocking on the door of Art Donaldson's dorm. You heard rustling from the other side, making you wait just a beat longer in the dimly lit hallway. You rocked back and forth on your heels, chewing the inside of your cheek and rethinking your current appearance. The oversized Stanford hoodie, mess of your hair, and lack of makeup now seemed ill-fitting for a meeting with the boy who had somehow winded his way into becoming your crush. You felt like a kid again, back in high school.

You were starting to worry you had the wrong room until the door swung open, bathing the hallway in a golden, hazy light. There stood Art, moving his large frame out of the way to gesture you into his room with a short greeting and a "thank god." You didn't know what you expected, really, but there you were, slinking a little too closely past him as he stood in his doorframe. You felt his breath on the back of your neck as he stood behind you, guiding you to his tiny desk in the corner of the room. His hands ghosted over the small of your back, and you felt his warmth, despite him not actually touching you.

The room itself was small. It wasn't unlike yours, or any of the others on campus. But it somehow felt smaller with Art next to you, burying his face in his hands every time you patiently explained a concept you'd gone over already. His face. He was so close to you now, the quiet of the night and the room only making you feel closer.

The energy of this study session felt so different from all your others in the past. You weren't in a classroom, or meeting him after practice in the library. You were seeing another side of Art, the part of himself he didn't publicize. Every freckle, the stretch of his faded t-shirt over his body, the curls he brushed out of his eyes every now and again, the way he flexed his callused hands as he cracked his knuckles, a nervous fidget.

It felt like time slowed down. You labored over the biology textbook, finding practice questions and asking him some of your own. You were gentle, cautious. Maybe it was the weird intimacy of the moment, maybe it was the lack of air in the cramped dorm. Your voice was soft, and you couldn't help but notice how the tension Art held over the phone and when you entered the room melted away. Did you do that? You felt this reciprocation, possibly imagined. But whenever you cracked a dumb joke, he'd laugh and put a hand on your arm. The contact always made you freeze. The touch was a reminder he was real, he was tangible. Every fleeting gaze, every smile in your direction.

You had almost reached the end of the chapter, and Art was getting almost every practice question right. You fidgeted with a sheet of his messy notes, reading it over to continue some rant you were on about RNA.

"...made up of nucleotides, which are ribose sugars attached to nitrogenous bases and phosphate groups..." You trailed off, looking up from the papers only to find his gaze already on you. How long had he been looking at you? And the way he looked at you...

"Do you want to take a break?" He tilted his head.

You quirked an eyebrow, unable to fight your smile. "Sure."

He got up with an over-exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms over his head, exposing the bottom of his toned abdomen. For a moment. He reached under his desk, pulling out a box of some cheap canned beer. He popped the tab of a can, taking a long draw and passing it to you.

You looked away from his watchful eyes as you took a sip. Your face heated as you took into account the fact you were drinking from the same can he had.

You winced. "God, that tastes like ass."

"Sorry." He laughed, taking the can from you. Warm, callused fingertips brushing against yours.

"I didn't take you for a Steel Reserve kinda guy."

"What did you take me for?"

"I don't know. Gatorade?"

"Okay." He shook his head. "No more for you."

"Wait, wait, okay, I take it back."

He held out the can for you again.

"Mhm."

"Still taste like ass?"

"It tastes like what I imagine WD-40 tastes like."

You felt your heart swell as he laughed at that. You hadn't noticed how the two of you now sat impossibly closer, thighs brushing, shoulders sending sparks whenever they met. The half-empty can of beer felt like a nervous talisman being passed back and forth between you. Dumb jokes tumbled easily from your lips, punctuated by laughter that echoed weirdly loud in the quiet room. Finals week stress had completely evaporated, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the shitty beer.

It was so easy, talking to Art. Easier than it should have been, considering you were explaining the intricacies of cellular respiration to a man who once thought mitochondria were a type of pasta. But he listened, truly listened, his eyes locked on yours. You caught yourself getting lost in their depths, a dizzying kaleidoscope that mirrored the nervousness in your stomach.

He leaned in, as if to hear you better, and you mimicked the movement unconsciously. The space between your faces shrunk, the air thick with unspoken words. His gaze did its familiar dance—right eye, lips, left eye—and this time, it lingered on your lips a beat too long.

A sudden self-consciousness washed over you. Should you pull back? This wasn't your intention. But before you could overthink it, Art's lips were hovering over yours, a question in the way they hovered, hesitant but hopeful.

"This okay?" His voice was impossibly low, breathy, quiet. His eyes raked over your features, eye contact shifting from left to right, back and forth. His hand, warm and calloused came up to cup your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

"Yeah." You breathed.

The kiss, when it came, was soft and unexpected. More of a tentative exploration than a passionate assault. It tasted of desperation and relief, of unspoken feelings finally finding a voice.

Your hands moved from your sides to toy with the curls on the back of his head, earning a barely audible groan from Art. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his other hand moving down to pull you impossibly closer by the small of your waist. His touch was shy, tender.

After what felt like forever (and you wouldn't have minded had it been), you pulled away slowly, breathless, a blush painting your face. His eyes searched yours for some unknown answer. For a long moment, the only sound was the ragged rhythm of your breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, mirroring the one blooming on yours. "God, you're so pretty."

Leaving Art's dorm room felt like navigating a dream. Your head spun, a mix of the cheap beer and the potent aftertaste of the kiss. Your lips still tingled where his had been, a brand new sensation that sent shivers dancing down your spine. Relief, sweet and unexpected, washed over you. Months of stolen glances, late-night calls disguised as study sessions, and a simmering tension that had threatened to consume you—all of it had culminated in that single, electrifying kiss.

As you walked down the quiet hallway, a giddy smile stretched across your face. It wasn't just the kiss itself, though that replayed in your mind in a loop—hesitant, searching, then deepening with a shared sense of discovery. It was the way he'd looked at you afterwards, his eyes soft with unspoken emotions, mirroring the whirlwind in your own chest. A nervous flutter remained in your stomach, a delicious mix of excitement and uncertainty.

But beneath it all, a quiet confidence bloomed. He felt it too. This wasn't just some fleeting moment, a stolen kiss in the dead of night. It was a turning point, a bridge crossed, and the future, once shrouded in the haze of exams and unspoken feelings, now shimmered with possibility.

#art donaldson x reader #mike faist #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #mike faist imagine

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disneyprincemuke · 3 months

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how you get the girl * fem!driver

and when logan comes in with a girl on his arm, then what?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hi it was only a kiss was the beginning of the end for my locky soldiers i fear and here u go lOLSIE OXOXOXOOXOOXOXO

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“did you see?”

she tilts her head, turning around with her eyebrows furrowed. liam has walked around the barrier of their garages, sauntering in with his hands behind his back. “seen what?”

liam blinks at her. he purses his lips and shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “nothing.”

“what do you mean?” she laughs, putting her ipad down. “was i supposed to see something? why are you being weird?”

“i think he means logan and his girlfriend walking into the paddocks together.”

just like that, she can almost hear the glass around her shattering. there’s a ringing in her ears and she turns to sebastian with wide eyes and puffy cheeks. “what?”

sebastian blinks at her, his clipboard of data in his hands. “you didn’t know? don’t you guys live together?”

she blinks rapidly, trying to come up with an excuse. truthfully, only 2 people ever found out about the events of new year’s day. one of those was by default, logan’s brother, and she’d pulled liam aside during their team trip to new york to confess and vent about the events of her stay in miami.

liam’s been sworn to the highest level of secrecy, and she’s appreciated the fact that he’s kept his word. he never brings it up unless she does it first.

which isn’t a lot.

“we uh,” she drops her head and turns back to her ipad as she sucks in a deep breath, “we’ve been kinda busy lately. i didn’t know he was seeing somebody now. i was in los angeles for a while during the break.”

“that’s,” sebastian trails off, “odd. is it still weird after what happened in montreal? i thought everything was okay.”

she looks up. “it is! everything is okay! we’ve just been super busy,” she rambles, “you know… i’ve flown around for d&g and a couple of fenty events. haven’t really had the time to sit down and have a chat recently.”

sebastian hums, unsure if he’s fully buying her excuse yet. “i see. have you guys not gone to get ice cream lately?”

she shrugs and points at liam, “our schedules never really line up. sometimes logan is there, but not often. even then, there’s always something more important to talk about than our dating lives.”

liam finally clears his throat, making her eyes snap over to him. “let’s go? we’ve got an interview in a couple of minutes.”

she grins, turning to sebastian. she gives him a quick hug and hangs her head low before she follows liam back into the paddocks. “seriously? i didn’t know logan had a new girlfriend.”

“have you seriously not seen each other that you didn’t know about his new girlfriend?” liam whispers, looking around cautiously to ensure that nobody’s got the chance to eavesdrop on their conversation. he takes a step forward towards her and drops his head. “how do you feel?”

she pouts her bottom lip out with a shrug. “good for him, i guess.”

there’s no way that’s the only thing she has to say, right? “really? you’re okay with this?”

her eyes trail off to the crowd surrounding them, as if to really think over her answer, then turns back to him. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re totally over the fact that you kissed on new year’s?”

“liam,” she scolds through gritted teeth, smacking his arm lightly. “you were sworn to secrecy.”

“i haven’t told anyone,” he throws his arms into the air, “but are you seriously okay with this? it’s just me — you can tell me if it bothers you.”

she tilts her head with a small grin. it’s endearing how liam is double-checking. but it’s been 7 months since they kissed. she’s kind of well over the fact by now. “i’m really okay. i’ve just been super busy. i flew in from los angeles right before touching down here. we haven’t really crossed paths in the apartment lately.”

liam pats her on the shoulder. “okay. but you can tell me anything, okay? don’t keep it in, mate.”

she smiles, “promise.”

max lifts his eyebrows, following the pair that’s just walked past him nonchalantly. his lips part in confusion as he then furrows his eyebrows and turns to the girl now approaching him. “was that logan holding hands with a girl?”

she follows his stare, tilting her head slightly. “yeah. i heard he brought his girlfriend to the race today.”

“you heard?” max scowls. “you didn’t know he had a girlfriend? aren’t you best friends who live together?”

she shrugs, “we haven’t seen each other a ton lately. we’ve been busy in our own right.” she puffs her cheeks out. “why is everyone so baffled that i didn’t know he has a girlfriend? he is a grown man!”

max puts his hands in the air as a small smile stretches his lips. “mate, relax. i was just curious. cause i thought you guys liked each other?”

“that’s crazy. where did you get that from?” she almost wants to laugh if it weren’t for the fact that max hit the jackpot with that guess. she only hoped that her wide eyes and racing heart didn’t give too much away. “he’s my best friend. with a girlfriend or not.”

max gives her a stare, one that tells her that he definitely isn’t buying her bullshit excuse. he lifts an eyebrow at her and sighs audibly. “really? you’re going to keep lying about you guys just being friends?”

she rolls her eyes. “your late-night gaming is taking a toll on you, i believe. you’re seeing things that aren’t there, max.”

“sure,” he snorts. “everyone can tell, by the way. alex, george… we know.”

she tilts her head and bats her eyelashes at him innocently. “i don’t seem to know what you mean.”

“that you and logan, at some point or another, liked each other,” max explains. “it’s only so obvious. mark my words, andretti racing driver, you guys are going to end up together someday be it in the near future or even it takes you years to figure things out.”

“you belong in a mental hospital.”

“rocky!” she feels a hand around her elbow pulling her back immediately, stumbling back a couple of steps with a soft yelp before she feels a hand on her back that steadies her. she knows that hand.

“why did you have to yank me like i’m an animal?” she whines, shaking away logan’s grip on her. “what do you want? i have a team meeting i’m gonna be late for.”

“i want you to meet somebody,” logan grins, stepping aside hesitantly. “ylona — my girlfriend.”

she tilts her head and into focus comes a slightly smaller girl compared to logan. slightly taller than her, tanned skin and the prettiest brown eyes she thinks she’s ever seen. ylona has her hands clasped in front of her shyly with a small and polite smile.

“oh, hi!” she squeals as her arm immediately darts out towards the girl. “i’m so sorry i just only got the chance to meet you now. i’ve been so busy — i’ve been out of the country lately.”

“yeah, i,” ylona laughs sheepishly and takes her hand, “i love your apartment, by the way. there’s no way you’re not an interior designer or something.”

she scrunches her nose. now, how is she supposed to hate someone as soft-spoken and lovely as ylona? she takes a deep breath, subtly looking ylona up and down. she’s just so pretty. “my younger sister actually helped with the apartment. i’d love to hang out with you after the day ends if you guys are joining us for ice cream?”

logan nods, his stare lingering on her in a way that she’s unsure what he’s trying to say to her. “of course. i’m not missing another ice cream night again in my life.”

“good!” she grins, patting his shoulder. “i’ll see you guys around. i’ve got to run.”

“who the hell is that!” alex barges into her room, george following suit as she takes sips from the drink in his hand. “when did logan get a girlfriend?”

she looks up from her phone, baffled at the comfortability that the older drivers have found in her hospitality home. especially her driver’s room. “you know, just because sebastian gives you guys immunity in the andretti hospitality doesn’t mean you should take advantage of it.”

“who is that girl? how did they even meet?”

george points at her beanbag, looking at her innocently as if to ask for permission. she nods and beckons him towards it before turning to alex. “i don’t know. i only just met her today.”

“like it’s so– what? you just met her today?”

“you also just met her today?” george pouts his bottom lip out, unsure if he should be concerned or impressed at logan’s success in hiding a secret from her. “how weird.”

“it’s seriously not that weird! we’re adults with our own lives!” she scoffs, returning her attention to her phone. “she seems lovely if you ask me. very pretty, very polite.”

she’s just opened her phone to send a message when it disappears abruptly, alex taking it into his hands and slipping it into his back pocket. “you’ve got to tell us more. there is no way you found out today like the rest of us peasants.”

she shrugs with a soft laugh. “i really have got no idea when or how they met. i’ve barely hung out with logan since we were in barcelona for the spanish gp. i’ve been frequenting los angeles a lot recently.”

“what are you doing in america instead of oxford with your family?” george scowls. “the fame’s gotten to you, mate.”

she rolls her eyes. “i’ve got sponsorships i need to show up for. seriously, it’s not that serious. logan’s 23 — let him have his girlfriend.”

“she is very quiet too, actually,” alex hums, dropping himself on the bean bag, and squeezing in with george, who scowls and pushes him away slightly to regain his space. “i don’t know. do i like her?”

george furrows his eyebrows. “logan isn’t your best friend. why are you speaking like that about his girlfriend?”

“hey, she’s going to be in the garage for a while. i have to make sure it’s an environment that i feel comfortable in.” alex looks to her for some support. “you get what i mean, right?”

she shrugs. “i guess you have a point. but you know… you can just ignore her if you don’t like her, alex.”

“it’s not the same though,” alex sighs, dropping his hands in his lap. “promise you’ll tell me when you find out more about her?”

“why don’t you just ask logan yourself?” george asks.

“he keeps running away when he sees me,” alex frowns. “i think it’s because i keep asking him if he likes rocky. i guess it’s not a good look if i keep asking that when his girlfriend is around.”

“you twat, why would you ask him that at all?” she scolds, hurling the small stuffed animal next to her towards alex. “such a stupid question to ask!”

alex catches the stuffed animal and chucks it right back at her. “i’m curious! for the record,” he rolls his eyes, “he avoids that question too!”

“that’s just stirring up the pot when you don’t have to, alex!” she hops off her massage table and runs over to where the 2 men are, arm wound back to hit the thai driver. “you’re so annoying! what is your problem?”

“i was curious!” alex screams to defend himself. “if you hit me, i’m telling james and he’ll never let you into our building to see logan.”

“i won’t have to. he’s got ylona now,” she points out before turning on her heel. “do you guys wanna go grab some coffee?”

“i know, i know,” oscar whispers, “it’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? i can’t believe he didn’t tell us.”

lily nods, leaning on the wall of the mclaren’s racing home as they await their friends so they can leave to get some ice cream. “i can’t believe even rocky didn’t know.”

oscar raises his eyebrows in shock. for him to now know, is one thing, but for logan’s literal roommate to not know of ylona’s existence until today? that’s just weird and even borderline off.

from the corner of his eye, he sees the young driver approaching them, typing away on her phone with a small grin on her face. he furrows his eyebrows and hits her gently on the shoulder as she comes to stop in front of them.

“what?”

“you and logan are being so weird lately,” oscar confesses. “seriously. what happened between both of you in the united states?”

she blinks at him. “nothing. we were just busy.”

“not spending valentine’s day together is one thing. but you didn’t even know about his girlfriend? you usually know everything,” oscar whispers, looking over his shoulder to make sure that logan’s not anywhere close to them. “what’s going on?”

“i’ve just been very caught up with my own things lately,” she laughs, putting a hand on oscar and lily’s shoulder. “relax. nothing happened between us.”

but she swears that there are some nights that she can feel logan’s lips on hers. it drives her crazy, actually. “relax. let’s just get ice cream and get to know her. it doesn’t have to be weird.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

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spid3namy · 7 months

Note

Miles morales × F reader with like just in general body issues like shes not curvy with an hourglass figure and she's just insecure thinking he doesn't find her body attractive

(definitely not projecting 🤡)

pairing : e!42/1610 miles x insecure!female reader

summary : you don’t feel pretty, miles decides to help show you just how beautiful you really are to him

contains : fluff, angst, insecurities, projection, kissing, somewhat body worship, they are in their late teens, probably incorrect spanish, cussing

word count : 1352

notes : okay, so like this request was really good fr cus i used to suffer from being really insecure back in the day so this was lowkey me projecting like a LOT. also, there won’t be TOO much detail about the body type just cus like i kinda want it to be inclusive to like everyone. anyways, enjoy the story! <33

Ugly.

That’s the only thing you thought about when you stared at yourself in the mirror.

The way your body looked made your stomach churn. The way you felt as though you were nothing was a worrying known feeling that you were pretty much used to by now.

Shit sucked.

All the girls at school were so damn pretty. Each having beautiful traits on their bodies. Sophomore year of high school was when you noticed just how beautiful everyone but you was.

The guys were all over those girls. The ones with the beautiful long hair. Ones with those pretty eyes. Ones who had hourglass bodies. Ones who.. weren't you.

It was almost pathetic how obsessed you had been when it came to how the other girls looked. Why couldn’t you look like them?

Why couldn’t your body be curvy?

Why couldn’t you have big boobs?

Why couldn’t you be pretty like the other girls?

Those questions rang through your head as you continued to judge yourself through the mirror. Why were you so fucking unlucky?

“Oye hermosa! You in here?”

You jump when you hear your boyfriend’s voice. He wasn’t supposed to be here until later! You let out a noise and quickly grab a hoodie from inside your dresser, throwing it over your head before you emerge from your bedroom.

“Hey, Miles..”

“Oh there you are, I’ve been calling your name for like 5 minutes now. I was worried you might’ve not been home.”

“Sorry.. I guess, I got distracted”

Miles gives you a look before he presses a kiss onto your cheek, his arm wrapping around your waist delicately. You could feel your lips curve upwards into a smile from the affection you were given. Even if you were upset, he always knew how to cheer you up. He had always been good at that.

“How’s my beautiful girl doin’?” You try not to grimace when he speaks.

You’re not beautiful. He’s lying to you. He just wants to make you feel better. You’re actually ugly. He doesn’t love you. He wants someone else. Someone who is better and prettier than you.

That stupid voice in your head makes you want to scream. Why did it never shut up? Why did it always have to talk?

But you knew it was true. The voice was just trying to help you. To show you the truth. Well.. the truth you’ve made up in your head anyway.

“Mama, are you okay?” Miles rubbed a small circle on your waist; the feeling alone caused you to cringe.

“Don’t touch there..”

Miles stared at you in confusion, an eyebrow being raised and his hands moving up from your waist to your face. It was weird to see you being this way. One thing about being as insecure as you were, you never told anyone about it.

You preferred suffering in silence.

Besides, how was anyone really supposed to help with your body issues? With your insecurities? Sure, they can call you pretty all they want but could you really trust them? What if they were lying just to make you feel better?

It was a never-ending cycle.

“Mama, are you.. okay? Is somethin’ botherin’ you?”

“Leave it alone, Miles.”

“Y/N.”

“Miles.”

Miles lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his temples in annoyance. You always did this. Pushing things down was so annoying sometimes. Especially when all he wanted to do was help you! But no, you just had to refuse his help.

He loved you, more than anything in the world, but sometimes you were a little too much for him.

“Y/N, tell me what the problem is. I wanna help you.”

“By doin’ what, Miles? It’s not like you can just magically turn me pretty.”

There it was. Before you even realized it, you had said too much.

Miles stared at you and furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes scanning over your face before he took a step closer to you. You knew that look. That was the look he gave any boy that dared talk to you. That meant he was about to go off. And you sadly walked right into that.

“What?”

“Nothin’, Miles. I ain’t even said nothin’.”

“Don’t play this game with me, chica. The fuck did you just say?”

“It’s nothing, just fuckin’ drop it.”

Miles gives you a look and you instantly know how stupid you were for refusing to tell him. You knew you couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t show him just how vulnerable you are. Couldn’t show him just how much you hated the way your body looked. How you didn’t look like other girls.

He would think you’re pathetic.

“You smokin’ again?”

“What? No!”

“Mhm. Well, you must be high out of your fuckin’ mind to think that you’re not the most gorgeous woman on this planet. Besides Megan Thee Stallion, of course.”

“Ha ha, you’re so fuckin’ funny.” You roll your eyes at his comment, your voice filled with nothing but sarcasm from his horrible attempt at a joke. Or whatever the hell that shit was.

Miles let out a snort and took a step closer to you, cupping your face and pressing a couple of kisses onto your face. It was like he was attempting to comfort you but it was awkward to do so. At least, that’s the impression you were getting from him. You appreciated the effort but it really wasn’t work out all that well.

“Come on, jus’ look at you, mama.. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Miles, quit.”

“Shh.”

You pout and squirm around in his grip, moving your gaze away from him. He was so embarrassing sometimes. Miles continued to press kisses onto your face before his hands soon moved down to under your hoodie.

“Miles.”

“Don’t worry, mama.. I ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

“Watch your hands, boy.”

“Yes, ma’am..”

You roll your eyes but otherwise allow his hands to wander around your frame. You let out a gasp from the feeling of his cold hands moving up and down your stomach, stopping just under where your bra sat. He was getting a little too handsy. But you trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t do anything.

“You’re so gorgeous, mama. Especially when you wear those fire ass fits.”

“Mm? Which ones?”

“All of them.”

Your cheeks heat up from his comment; your hand instinctively comes up to push at his chest in embarrassment. He didn’t move away from you though, only got closer.

You knew he couldn’t make the insecurities go away. But he was doing a hell of a good job taking her mind off the reasons she was insecure in the first place. Sure, she’ll remember them later but that was a problem for when she got there. Right now, she just wanted to focus on him.

His lips and the way they felt on her skin. His fingers touching her body. His voice whispering sweet words to her. Everything caused her brain to just shut down and focus on him. And god, she fucking loved him for that.

“You’re so pretty, chica.”

You merely hum in response, your shoulders relaxing as he grabs your face. Miles looks into your beautiful e/c eyes and presses a quick kiss onto your lips, only a peck though.

“Say it, mama.”

“Say what?”

Miles looks at you like the answer to the question was just so damn obvious. And it was but still.

“Say you’re pretty.”

“Miles, I-”

“Say it.”

You let out a deep sigh and stare at him for a while. He looks at you expectedly, his eyes staying locked onto yours. There was seemingly no escape from this.

You scoff and roll your eyes before you mumble your next sentence, “‘m pretty.”

“Louder.”

“‘M pretty.” You repeat it a little louder than before, loud enough for the both of you to hear it.

“Good.” Miles smiled and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto yours. It was sweet; it had always been sweet whenever you two kissed.

That voice was still in the back of your head but at least it was silenced. For now.

#☆ namy writes #fluff #e42 miles #angst #earth 42 miles angst #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles angst #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles fluff

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juyeonszn · 6 months

Text

CLUMSY

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.03k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader and juhak are bio lab partners, juhak is lowkey a bit of a loser BUT DW HE REDEEMS HIMSELF, mentions of alcohol, a game of rage cage…, he’s down insanely bad, the flirting goes kinda crazy, someone calls the cops, they run from said cops, reader is Nawt wasting any time, pet names (juhak calls reader princess), tbh they’re both switches in some ways, kitchen sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie lol

SUMMARY when haknyeon ran into you at a tbz party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. or literally. or both simultaneously. but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

MORE andddddd here we go 🫡 second fic of the black out or back out collab 🙏 i forgot to link the masterlist in the last one so im gonna link it in this one in case u wanna read any of the others!! ANYWAY i had such a fun time writing this one, any excuse i get to write for juhak, i will take trust <3 if u enjoyed, don’t forget to reblog! and pls check out the other fics so far!!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

Okay. So maybe trying to secure a girlfriend at a party wasn’t exactly Haknyeon’s best idea.

But, hey. You had to give him some credit. At least he was making an attempt. Most of his other frat brothers weren’t even making an effort. They seemed perfectly satisfied with charming their ways into random girls’ pants every weekend. Unfortunately, or fortunately considering he was a gentleman, Haknyeon wasn’t into that sort of thing.

It was just a little embarrassing that Kim Sunwoo’s love life had more progress than his own. Sunwoo was literally the resident loser bitch boy of the TBZ house. How was he closer to getting a girlfriend than he was? It made absolutely no sense.

Ju Haknyeon thought of himself as a catch. He was pretty neat, his room was cleaner than most guys’ his age. He knew how to cook basic meals, again, more than the average college sophomore. His car wasn’t on its last leg. (Cough cough… Kim Sunwoo, I’m looking at you.) He was a decent dude. He supported women’s rights and wrongs!

Apparently that was not enough these days.

“…And I need you to make sure the fridge is stocked completely. I’m not trying to drink my coffee without cream tomorrow morning because some idiot drank it while they were drunk.” Sangyeon commands, typing something furiously on his phone as some of the other guys move around the furniture.

“Bruh, I was in charge of buying everything last time. Why can’t someone else do it?” Kevin groans. Something else that wasn’t Haknyeon’s best idea? Walking into the kitchen during this very conversation. “What about JuHak? He looks like he has nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Hak, I’m airdropping you the list.” Sangyeon waves his hand in dismissal, returning to his extensive presidential duties.

The sophomore deadpans, but doesn’t have the energy to argue back. You know, the usual fraternity was just a bunch of rich guys with more money than the tuition of each TBZ brother combined. However, the Tau Beta Zeta house was not your usual fraternity. It really was just a bunch of normal dudes thrown together. Though, Lee Sangyeon ran it like it was the fucking Navy.

Haknyeon accepts his defeat and grabs his things, heading out to the supermarket to shop for tonight’s party. Alcohol duty sucked more than door duty, in his opinion. You were sent out all alone, tasked with bringing back enough liquor and beer to last until early hours of the morning. It was a near impossible mission, unless you were Kevin Moon and good at practically everything in the world.

He pushes around the shopping cart mindlessly, though he knows he’ll have to make another trip. A long sigh leaves his lips as he enters the alcohol aisle. He fills the bottom of the cart with different cases of beer until he thinks he may drop one, and then starts to place things in the basket. He feels like a dumbass hauling it over to the registers, like everyone can see right through him.

He has to remind himself that this is for a good cause, that it’ll be worth it when everyone is enjoying themselves at the party. His actions won’t be in vain. Even after the second trip with another cart full of beer and various liquor bottles, Haknyeon keeps repeating affirmations in his head. This has to be the party.

In fact, he thinks his thoughts have manifested into reality when he sees you walking into the grocery store at the same time he’s leaving. You’re his pretty Bio lab partner. He’s always too nervous to hold a substantial conversation with you, so he settles for the bare minimum, which is unfulfilling small talk during your labs. It’s never what he needs though. Aside from your name, Haknyeon knows nothing about you.

“Y/N?” What he wants right now, however, is to shoot himself in the foot for sounding so unsure.

You glance up from your phone, a smile lighting up your face when you recognize him. “Haknyeon! Hey! What’s up?”

“Last minute preparations for the TBZ party tonight,” he gestures at his shopping cart with pursed lips. “You?”

“That’s so funny that you say that! My friends and I are going—“ You eye his cart with confusion. “Wait, I didn’t know you were in Tau Beta Zeta.”

“Yeah…” Haknyeon laughs awkwardly. “Surprise!”

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the frat boy type. Then again, TBZ isn’t your average frat so, I guess that kinda adds up.”

Haknyeon’s not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but since it’s coming from you, he decides that he will. The realization that you mentioned you’d be attending the party finally sets in at that same moment. “So, I’ll see you later, then?”

You nod, smile widening. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing a bottle for us to bring with. But I’ll be there. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

God, he hopes so. This is the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and learn everything he’s been dying to know about you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know… I’m a busy man. It might be a little hard.”

That cute little laugh of yours makes another appearance. “I’ll be on the lookout, don’t worry. See you tonight, Haknyeon.”

Ju Haknyeon thinks that he must’ve done something monumental in a past life, like saving a dog from a burning building or stopping a world war. How else would the universe reward him this kindly? All he can do is wave as you maneuver around an elderly couple passing by into the store.

Maybe Kevin Moon wasn’t that bad. And maybe Lee Sangyeon wasn’t as big of a tyrant as he made him out to be. He could actually kiss the ground they walked on for forcing him into alcohol duty. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have ran into you and he wouldn’t have known you were attending the party. Now he has something to look forward to that isn't getting shitfaced.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Haknyeon looks away from his mirror, Hyunjae standing in the doorway. He has a cringe on his face at the sight of his outfit. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever worn, but it was… a bit too much. A black button up and black slacks was admittedly not the best frat party fit. The only good thing he had going for him was his hair that was styled for once, parted so his bangs framed his face nicely.

“This girl I’m kinda into is coming tonight. I need to look irresistible.” The younger explains, arms flailing at his sides.

“Okay, well you won’t accomplish that in this,” Hyunjae snorts, digging through his closet. “If she’s into you too, she won’t care what you’re wearing. Just throw on something you’d normally wear. Like… this! This is nice.”

Hyunjae holds up a black t-shirt and a black-washed denim jacket. Haknyeon hums. It was simple, but also once he put it on he wouldn’t feel like a douchebag, which was the whole goal here. Paired with some khaki cargo pants, he’s found a winner. He begrudgingly thanks his senior for the assistance, shooing him out of his bedroom so he can mentally prepare for the night ahead of him.

He doesn’t even know what to bring up now that he really tosses the idea around in his head. Yeah, he wants to learn more about you and what you’re like outside of your Bio lab, but specifically what he couldn’t say. Haknyeon was starting to feel like a lost cause. He had to clutch up tonight. He had to woo you so much that you had no choice but to fall for his cute face and endearing personality. But how was he meant to do that if he couldn’t even come up with topics to talk with you about?

Maybe he was just thinking too far into things. Perhaps he should just let it all go with the flow. Moving at an au natural pace was probably his best bet in comparison to Sunwoo’s soccer ball plan. (He’s still confused how that worked in his favor.)

Before he knows it, the party is swinging into full effect. This is the first time Haknyeon’s ever been so socially aware of his surroundings. He had a habit of blurring his atmosphere at these things, more interested in getting drunk with his buddies than paying attention to the attendees. As he stands in a corner of the living room, listening to Chanhee complain about treasurer stuff, he watches each and every person who enters the house.

When you finally do walk in, he has to physically stop himself from choking on the beer in his cup, biting the rim of the plastic in a weak attempt to sedate himself. If he thought you were gorgeous before in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, he doesn’t know what to call you now. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, dolled up in a black mini skirt and a black cropped halter top while hugging a bottle of Pink Whitney to your chest. He could probably pass out right here right now.

He almost does, but then Chanhee is slapping his back aggressively. “Wipe the drool off of your chin. God, am I the only one who still has a brain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanhee, go cry about your life somewhere else.” Haknyeon dismisses his senior, downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage. Though he is, he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, so he’s not going up to you this quickly. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to get another drink, rolling his neck like he’s preparing for the biggest win of the century.

It’s as he’s pouring some jungle juice into a fresh cup that you see him. A smile similar to the one from the store graces your features. There was only one person with a back like that, and it was your cute lab partner. You keep an arm wrapped around your bottle, tapping his shoulder lightly. He spins around confusedly, but the expression morphs into pleasant surprise immediately after.

“Pink Whitney? Easy choice,” he points at the bottle in your grasp. “Are you a lightweight, Y/N?”

Your cheeks warm up at the teasing remark. Upon first meeting, Haknyeon’s been an awkward mess around you. You can only assume the confidence stems from the fact that he’s within his element. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were implying that you want me to get you drunk.” He tucks a hand into one of his jacket pockets, the other bringing his cup to his mouth. He’s unconscious of the source of this sudden bravery, but he prays it doesn’t fade off anytime soon.

“Maybe I do…” You bite your lip, undoing the seal of the Pink Whitney bottle to take a sip. It burns your throat slightly. “I’ve never hung out with a frat boy before. I kinda wanna see what the hype is all about.”

Haknyeon thinks he might pass out again, because if he wasn’t so acutely aware of your entire interaction, he would think you’re flirting with him. Friendliness was a double edged sword in this day and age. But who knows, maybe you are flirting. You showed up with your friends but they were nowhere to be found now. He needed to take advantage of the opening.

It’s around this time that Younghoon and Juyeon are bringing out the fated beer pong table, a crowd already beginning to form nearby. He feels sorry for the poor suckers who have to play Changmin and his girlfriend.

“We should play beer pong!” You suggest, watching the pair of taller guys setting up the cups over his shoulder. Haknyeon can sense the color draining from his face. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve shut the idea down insanely fast, but because it was you, he was genuinely contemplating. Those who went up against the infamous TBZ party beer pong champions were in for a rude awakening, but if you wanted to...

“Uh—“ He starts but then he’s interrupted.

“Yo! Who’s down to play Rage Cage?!”

Juyeon’s voice is somehow louder than the music, carrying into the kitchen where the two of you stand. Haknyeon wasn’t the greatest Rage Cage player, but he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than beer pong. Especially when he stood beside people who didn’t understand the concept of the game.

You chug some more Pink Whitney, batting your eyelashes up at Haknyeon. “I’ve never played Rage Cage. Is it fun?”

“If you’re next to the right people it can be, but if you aren’t, then it’s a whole lot of drinking. We haven’t played Rage Cage at a TBZ party in a while, but the last time we did Eric Sohn almost had to get his stomach pumped.” He laughs a little at the memory of his friend spending the rest of his night cuddling with a toilet seat. The mental picture overshadows how enticing you look right now.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You ask sweetly, hoping that he takes the hint. He seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t make the first move unless you forced him to, so it appeared that you had your work cut out for you.

“You wanna play?” He turns to you with wide eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to show interest in the game. You give him a small nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. The truth of the matter was that you were a fucking liar. You’ve played Rage Cage plenty of times in the past. You were actually pretty decent at it, too. You just needed an excuse to spend the night around him.

“We better head over there now. It looks like the table is filling up.” You jab your pinkie in that general direction. Haknyeon blows a raspberry and leads you that way, his hand resting on the small of your back so he won’t lose you in the pack of people surrounding the table.

“Forewarning, my rap sheet doesn’t really read World Class Rage Cage Champ,” he laughs nervously, the anxiety beginning to eat at him all over again. “But I promise, I won’t let you get stacked.”

When Haknyeon said he wasn’t the worst, but wasn’t good at Rage Cage, you took his word. Except he severely overplayed his own skill. Maybe he was just extremely on edge and it threw off his game, but the amount of times he was stacked on was a little comical. At the very least, he kept his promise. You hadn’t got stacked once, but that was also only because Haknyeon would drink for you every time you almost did.

The room is sort of spinning by the time the first game has finished. Playing a drinking game while he’s trying to get to know you better was probably at the higher portion of his ‘BAD IDEAS!!!’ list. If he wasn’t so eager to please and followed along to each of your suggestions, perhaps he’d be having a different conversation. That was not the case, though.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for the turn out. All you’d wanted was to flirt with your lab partner, possibly end the night with some making out. As it was looking, that’s not the path you were heading down, but rather towards the kitchen for some water to sober him up some. Your bottle of Pink Whitney is long lost, replaced with a bottle of H2O. You hold his chin, tilting it back slightly to pour some into his mouth.

If he hadn’t already had the fattest crush on you, he definitely did now. Pretty and nice? You were the total package. Here you were, nursing him back to sobriety when you could’ve been out and about enjoying yourself with your friends. Up this close, he gets a detailed look at you. It’s so weird for him to think about how much he’s pined after you since the start of the semester, how much he’s admired the face that’s looking at him with this unfamiliar tenderness. He never thought he stood a chance. You know, that whole ‘nice guys finish last’ pick me boy vibe.

“Y/N—” He’s cut short, Juyeon’s voluminous voice resonating throughout the house again, sans the music.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

Of course. Nobody ever calls the cops on a TBZ party but of fucking course the one time Haknyeon gets shoot his shot with you, someone narcs. He actually thinks he might die. He might keel over and die in the middle of this party while the cops are raiding the place. Lee Sangyeon is gonna be thrown in the back of a police cruiser for letting people drink underage and then send them his way because he bought all of the alcohol. This was just his luck.

Without a word, you grab his hand and drag him out through the back door. You follow the flock of other party goers escaping the wrath of the police. It’s difficult to run in a mini skirt and strappy heels, but you don’t really have room to whine about it. Haknyeon doesn’t know if there’s ever a right time to tell you that you could’ve just gone up to his room, but figures it’s too late when you're hopping the short fence that goes out to the main street of Greek Row.

One would think that he’d sobered up at this point since he was, you know, on the run from the law. Yet for some reason Ju Haknyeon himself doesn’t even know, he’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol, tripping over that stupid fucking fence and falling flat on his face. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy part just before the sidewalk, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

You don’t give him recovery time, pulling him to his feet. He holds a hand to the side of his face that received the harshest of the impact, expecting to wake up to a nasty bruise tomorrow. He’s also unsure where exactly you’re taking him, but is afraid of asking out of fear that you’ll send his ass back to the frat house and have him arrested or something. (He had a bad habit of over complicating situations and coming up with the worst possible scenarios.)

Once the commotion has died out and there’s no one else around, you slow your pace. You turn to face him with a grin, holding both of his hands in yours as you walk backwards. “Are you cool with staying the night at my place?”

Truly, Haknyeon needs to know what act of nobility he committed in his previous life. He needs to go back in time and thank himself for whatever it was. Even with fumble after fumble, he was somehow bouncing back and receiving major compensation for sticking it out. He swallows thickly, nodding dumbly when he realizes he hasn’t given you a proper response.

“Um… Yeah— I mean— yes. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.” He word-vomits, stumbling over his tongue rather than his feet. Being down bad was one of his strongest personality traits. And being clumsy was second strongest, so you don't even have to imagine how terrible a combination of both would be.

The walk to your apartment knocks any lingering inebriation out of his system. He’s entirely too hyper aware of what’s happening as you guide him in that direction. It’s cooler out, the temperature dropping in the nighttime as the end of the semester approaches. If there was another reason to be grateful for this party, it was because he no longer had to worry about not making a move before your last lab together. As much as he despised Biology, he’d take it every day if it meant getting to see you.

He actually feels like he may throw up as you reach your place, his hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket to hide the clamminess of his palms. His nerves are creeping up on him once more, a dark cloud looming over him. He shouldn’t be this jumpy at this point of the night. He should be composed, prepared to sweep you off your feet after spending so much time with you. Why the hell is he sweating bullets right now?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you curtsy. “Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe?”

“Th-That would be great,” Haknyeon forces out, waddling behind you into the kitchen like a baby duckling following its mother. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Really? Thank you!” You can’t help but giggle at his jitters and the way he keeps rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sense of déjà vu rushes over you when you pass him a cup. “Living alone has its perks, I guess. I like that I don’t have to argue with anyone about how to decorate and things like that.”

“It sounds a lot more enjoyable than living with a bunch of men in their early twenties,” he smiles weakly as he accepts the glass of water from you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thin the walls are in that house.”

“Do they have sex often?” You ask him bluntly, head cocking to the side almost innocently. He chokes on the water he just sipped, nearly spilling it onto the floor.

“W-What?” He sputters.

“I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about,” you shrug, facing away from him so you can grab yourself something to drink, also. “We should get back at them.”

You don’t know how many more bones you can throw for him to understand what you're insinuating. Even the frat boy comment you made earlier was intentional. Haknyeon’s mouth goes dry and his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s. What the fuck?

“I’ve never brought a girl back to the house before, because I don’t want them to make fun of me or something— not that I’m saying I would take you back to the house! I mean I just would feel bad if you also got made fun of— not that I’m referring to having sex with you or anything!” The glass in his hands is on the verge of slipping from his grip. “Not that I don’t want to have sex with you— oh my god— um wow, that’s a very lovely fruit bowl you have there I—“

“Hak,” you interject his rambling, wearing a mischievous smile.

The nickname drives him fucking insane. Scratch him possibly dying. If he isn’t dead by the end of the night, he’ll be shocked. Perplexed. Perturbed. Puzzled. Any shock-adjacent synonym you can think of. That will be him. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you shut up and kiss me already?”

Honestly, you don’t have to ask him twice. His lips are on yours in seconds, fingers fisting the material of your skirt at your hips to steel himself. You moan in response to the sheer frenzy behind his actions. It’s so easy to lose yourself in the haste of it; the way you tug at his hair, the blunt edges of his nails digging into your sides, the near clashing of your teeth. He nibbles at your bottom lip, sighing when you allow his tongue to permeate your mouth. He’s content to do nothing but this, kissing you is enough to satiate the desire he’s harbored for you for months. However, with the franticness of your kiss, he knows you want more.

He inches you both backwards until your lower back hits the counter, and then he’s cupping beneath your thighs to hoist you up. His strength sends tidal waves pulsing throughout your whole being, hurriedly pushing the material of his denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a care. Your hands travel south as his lips trail along your jaw and neck, sucking and biting your supple skin wherever he feels fit. He hisses into the dip where your collarbone meets your shoulder when you palm him through his pants.

“Fuck, babe, you want me bad, don’t you?” He mutters into the column of your throat, teeth sinking into the flesh after.

“Mhmm,” you whine, craning your neck to give him more access to the surface. It’s like a switch has flipped in him and it turns you on unbearably. This is what you’ve been trying to coax out of him all night.

Haknyeon pries apart your legs, slotting himself between them so he can sneak his fingers beneath your skirt. His thumb rubs tight circles into your clothed clit, the lace of your underwear damp with your arousal. He connects your lips again, groaning into your kiss when he moves the fabric aside and slides his knuckle through your folds. You buck up your hips, whimpering when he holds them down with his forearm.

“Want more,” you gasp when he applies a bit of pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“‘More’ what? Use your words, princess,” he instructs, tracing your entrance with his ring finger.

You shake your head because you’re not even sure what it is that you want. You just know that this isn’t enough to quell the hunger burning at your chest. It’s not nearly sufficient to fan the flames in the depths of your heart or the ache in the pit of your abdomen. You need him everywhere. It’s beyond him being your cute Bio lab partner now.

He urges you onto your elbows, pecking the plane of your stomach. He pushes up your skirt and discards your panties, baring you to the cool air of your apartment. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your clit gently. Your head is light and airy and it’s like you’re on cloud nine. Haknyeon hums against you, pulling off to scold you.

“Eyes open, baby,” he nudges his nose on your pelvic bone. “Want you to watch me eat you out.”

The moan you release is strained, like it had been confined in the back of your throat for ages until this moment. He flattens his tongue and licks a line from your hole to your clit, suckling the engorged skin and repeating. Your eyelids are heavy, keeping your intense gaze on him as he all but makes out with your pussy. He focuses his mouth on your clit and slips his middle finger into you. He pumps it in and out languidly, setting a rhythm that matches each swirl of his tongue around your clit.

The whole scene still feels unreal to both of you, like you might wake up from a wet dream or something. How was it possible that Ju Haknyeon was finger fucking you on your kitchen counter? Just a couple days ago, you were sitting side by side in your Biology lab, too nervous to initiate a substantial conversation. You’d think it would be harder to slob on someone’s knob than it would be to talk to them while wearing a fuckass lab coat and goggles.

Haknyeon works his forearm up, pinning down your thighs so your cunt is fully accessible. He adds a second finger to the mix, thrusting them at a higher speed and increasing the unrelenting sucking of your bundle of nerves. He can tell you’re creeping closer towards your climax with the way your walls clench around him and your hips continue to jerk up. And considering the kind of person he was, you figured he would aid you rather than hinder you. But you figured wrong.

He slows his assault, removing his mouth from your clit and leaving the stimulation at just his two fingers. You whine, lip quivering when he looks up into your eyes.

“W-Why are you— what are you doing?” You plead, hating the tone of your voice. The tables have turned, with you sitting beside desperation. This is so unlike you— so unlike the usual domineering aura you exude during sex— your body reacting differently to the power falling through the cracks within your grasp.

“Don’t you wanna savor the moment, princess?” He sounds so cocky, a far cry from the wavering confidence you’d always seen out of him. He kisses the skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the area you need him most, all the while he continues curling and uncurling his fingers.

The precipice of your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. But Haknyeon holds it just out of reach, dangling it in your face like teasing a dog with a chew toy. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a false sense of hedonism building and building, then slowly ebbing away each time he retracts. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Just when you’ve given up hope, he adds a third finger and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. The sudden and unexpected intrusion snaps that familiar cord in half, blinding you with white hot pleasure. The groan that escapes from the base of your chest is guttural, echoing throughout the kitchen. You don’t have it in you to worry about waking your neighbors, especially not when you feel the curve of a smile against your cunt, such an uncharacteristic response from Haknyeon.

Your legs spasm as the height of your orgasm calms. You pull him down for a wanton kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He laughs at the role swap, hands flat on the counter to hold him over you. “Feel good?”

“So good, Hak,” you murmur into his lips. “Think you can fuck me like that next?”

“So impatient,” he snickers, pecking along your jaw once more. “But since you’ve been so good for me, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

You clumsily undo the button and zipper of his cargoes, pushing them down with your foot. He steps out of them and kicks them away while simultaneously removing his t-shirt. You take your top off and shimmy out of your skirt, raising an eyebrow at the narrowed look in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “But, I don’t care if you wear one. I’d rather feel you raw, anyway.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “God, you’re killing me. Okay.”

He shoves down his briefs and you have to stop yourself from gawking at his size. While he wasn’t the biggest, he was definitely bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with. He pumps himself a couple times, guiding his length to your entrance and throwing his head back when the tip presses into you. This was really happening, holy shit. Ju Haknyeon was actually having sex with you.

Your toes curl and you stab your nails into your palms to distract from the stinging stretch. He eases into you with the occasional grunt, minding your expressions for any signs of discomfort. When all he sees is your features contorted to display pleasure, he resumes. By the time he’s bottomed out completely, both of you are moaning messes. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with the weight of his cock.

“I’ve wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long,” he admits, speaking the words into your sticky skin as he drags himself out only to piston back in. The action throttles you a bit, your eyes tempted to roll to the back of your head from how fucking good it feels. You can’t conjure coherent thoughts to properly convey how many endorphins are coursing through your veins.

Haknyeon sets a pace that combines the perfect amount of speed and depth, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep in your cunt. Your brain is hazy and your vision blurs, hardly able to see anything in front of you. His mouth attaches to the pulse point on your neck, ensuring he bruises the area.

“Y-You’re— fuck— you’re s-so deep, Hak. I can feel you all over,” you wail, bringing one of his hands to tamp your lower stomach. The pressure contributes to the growing tension of your second orgasm, something you know will collide into you with even more exertion than the first.

“Yeah? You’re taking me s-so well, baby. No one else has ever fucked you this good, right?” Sweat beads on his hairline, dripping down his temples with every thrust of his hips and every drive of his cock into your sweet pussy. Even if he really did somehow manage to die tonight, he could do it with integrity. He could go out with the honor of a fallen soldier knowing that he got to experience this at least once in his life.

He hikes one of your knees up to your chest, burying his dick deeper if humanly possible. You arch your back, pushing into his chest to minimize the space between you, antsy at the promise of another release as mind blowing as the last. He brings you to the edge of the counter so you’re now hip to hip. Haknyeon snakes a hand in the middle of your bodies, using his thumb to rub circles into your clit. That stimulation coupled with the depth of his cock encourages the fluttering of your walls, in turn drawing out the state of bliss you’ve been chasing.

Your vision goes blank, stars painting the behinds of your eyelids. A second orgasm crests upon you and evokes a moan so pornographic, it sounds far away from you. It’s a dreamlike euphoria, an almost out of body experience that puts every other orgasm to shame. The surface of your skin is hot to the touch.

“Where do you want me, princess?” Haknyeon asks breathily. In the calamity of your own release, you nearly forgot about his until you register the twitching inside of you. It pauses the static in your ears, returning the volume of the world to its normality.

“Cum inside of me,” you whine, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. He doesn’t need to be told another time, grip tightening on your thigh as he spills into your cunt.

The two of you stay still for a moment, allowing clarity to flow into your brains. You wince when he finally has half the mind to pull out, his nose scrunching up at the sensitivity. He slides his underwear back on, extremely conscious of how naked he is right now. He has an inkling that you were anticipating that this would happen, because why else would you ask him to stay over tonight? But, he is the Ju Haknyeon that you’ve sat next to this entire semester in your Biology lab. So he couldn’t just march forward without a little overthinking and self deprecation.

“Do you still want me to stay?” His voice has reverted back to that small, unsure tone. You sit up quickly, alarmed by the twinge of disappointment underneath it.

“Of course, I do,” you pout, kissing his cheek and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, Hak. Sure, maybe I skipped a couple steps in between, but I have wanted this so badly— I have wanted you so badly— for you don’t even know how long.”

He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. He leaves a sweet kiss on your lips, softer and gentler than the ones from earlier that night. He’s intentional with the way he glides them in harmony, like he was following the melody of the most beautiful song. “Oh trust me, I think I have an idea.”

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon smut #juyeonszn #blackoutorbackout🍻

236 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 7 months

Note

I wanted to give you a not horny idea.

Long-term partners! Part of the 7! Jordan li where all you want to do is marry them, and keep getting asked by all your friends when you’ll tie the knot. People you introduced are getting married, and at the wedding, you keep getting asked questions, so that night, you both go home and fight.

And your like “I just wanna be with you forever” “it’s embarrassing seeing our friends who have dated half the time as us get married and we’re still stuck dating”

Jordan is scared of that kind of commitment not because they don’t want you (they have had a ring for years) but it’s stuck in their mind even after so long that they don’t deserve you because they aren’t ‘normal’.

So Jordan says some hurtful stuff to end the fight “you only wanna marry me so you can have my dads money…” “you just want a big ring and someone with my prestige.”

So you end up taking a few items of clothes and spending the night at a hotel not wanting to see them anymore tonight.

And Jordan just spends the night crying and wishing they could be what you want. They don’t sleep well for the next few nights because you don’t come back. Until a week later you are seriously out of clean underwear. So you bring your bag of laundry to do and take more clothes. You figure Jordan would be out and not at the apartment but they are in bed holding a photo of a previous anniversary and a box

Wait, is that a ring box? Yes, you're so shocked you drop the bag, and then Jordan notices you and hops up, trying to look presentable while covered in what seems to be a stained tank top and boxers.

You now notice the take out containers strewn on the bed seemingly the only thing they’ve eaten in the week you’ve been gone.

They push back their greasy hair and dry their eyes with a cleaner part of their shirt about to grovel—.

When you embrace them, worried for their mental state. You hate being away from them and you didn’t think about the fact you haven’t spent more than a few hours without each other since sophomore year

They try to speak and you shush them “it’s fine we’ll talk about last week later let’s just get you cleaned up now”

The end

Sorry if my grammar sucks I have dyslexia and spell check hates me

oh i shall weep long and hard over this.

jordan is their own worst enemy forreal. they spend that week sobbing and thinking the worst, thinking you're done with them because why wouldn't you be, you took a risk, being with them, and they aren't the easy choice. marriage would just be another risk, a big one. who wants to take that plunge? especially with them?

when you come back they're ready to fall to their knees and beg you to just give them time - please dont give up on them - when your arms wrap around them they nearly melt into the embrace. they crush you to them, not bothering to hold back, knowing you're sturdy enough to take it - they just need to hold you so hard it hurts. wants your warmth to seep into their bones and send the chill away.

"lets get you cleaned up, yeah? we can talk again tomorrow. i just want you to be okay right now."

they kinda trail after you like a lost puppy, watching as you turn the shower on and test the temperature until its warm. when you turn around again you almost jump, they're standing so close. they wrap you in their arms again, and you relax, hugging them back.

"you'll get in with me?" they ask quietly. its not sexually suggestive - its a cracked open kind of vulnerability. showering together is an intimate thing, and they don't want to be apart from you again. not for a second. so you nod against their shoulder. feel them shudder in relief and realize maybe there's some groveling you need to do to, that such a question could ever raise doubt.

you let jordan undress you after themselves, step in and take their hand when they tug you into the warm spray with them. you meet easily in the middle under the umbrella of waterfall. their hands skate reverently up your waist, your sides, climbing until they're cupping your face.

jordan li is a beautiful being. something about them with dripping wet hair, rivulets of it streaming from their long lashes, is captivating. you'd never give this up. not ever.

"i love you." they say, voice wavering. "so fucking much."

you reach a hand up to cup over one of theirs holding your face, let them see the love shining in your eyes. "i know. and I'm not going anywhere, not tonight. not any day after, yeah?"

their eyes shudder closed. they lean their forehead against yours and you feel their fingers glide down your spine like they're trying to commit every dip and curve of you to memory, "yeah." they breathe, and their nose skims yours, "okay."

#ask #SOBS N SOBS #jordan li x reader

194 notes · View notes

mafiadad5 · 5 months

Text

Masterlist and rules

Hiii! I’m 18 and I write for nct🩷

18+ blog, I only write for nct but I do write for all units (except new team) feel free to request, but I may get to them a bit late 🎀. sometimes I feel uncomfortable about writing for certain members or topics… please understand and don’t be rude.

Please dont plagiarize my work, if you really need help literally dm me, but it’s not cool to steal😭… ©mafiadad5

Thank you so much and feel free to leave comments and my dms are open!

Mark

• Friends with benefits

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

you walk in on your roommate and long time friend doing something… a small argument about it turns into something else

Imagine

“I saw this tweet that was like mark would be the type to say dude romantically and i can’t stop thinking about it 😣😩!”

————————————————————————————

Haechan

• Drunken thoughts

(Second person pov)

“You and your friend group decides to play a new and risky drinking game, but it only becomes risky for you and Haechan. “

————————————————————————————

Renjun

• self control

(Second person pov)

your roommate is fed up with how you dress around the apartment and asks you to stop, but you’re fed up with him acting like he doesn’t like it so you finally confront him.

————————————————————————————

Chenle

• Try, try not to think about us in that way.

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

You and Chenle has been friends for years now, since freshman year of Highschool, you finally graduate and go on a summer trip that you guys have been fantasizing to go on since sophomore year. You've always had a crush on him, but stopped trying after he rejected you freshman year. Not wanting to ruin the friendship, you ignore your feelings. That's until you're standing at the beach…

• part 2

————————————————————————————

Jisung

• imagine

(Second person pov)

“Omg can you maybe do like visiting jisung in the practice room for a quickie while the others are out #dontgetcaught!!”

• part 2

————————————————————————————

Jeno

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Jaemin

• White tee

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

no summary, just read :)

• arguments

(Second person pov)

you and your bf got into an argument the night before, but you still have an attitude that he wants to knock out of you.

————————————————————————————

Ten

• Can I be the one for you? (Part 1)

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

Your boss seems to have a problem with you, and loves to tease you and make you work harder than the rest, that’s when you both get invited on a business trip that could change everything, literally. Are you gonna go on this business trip with him or not?

• one more night with you (part 2)

(First person)

it’s been years since everyone has split up from high school, but a knock on the door graduation day changes everything.

————————————————————————————

Hendery

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Yang Yang

blame it on the high.

(Second person pov)

you finally give into your stoner roommates habit and decide to smoke with him, the high makes you different you…

————————————————————————————

Xiaojun

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Win win

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Kun

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Johnny

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Taeil

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Yuta

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Taeyong

Imagine

“Omg imagine sucking off taeyong backstage right before a show 😭😫”

• Just for the night.

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

————————————————————————————

Jungwoo

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

Jaehyun

• Kalopsia

I went back to my college town, my dad worried about me and my safety makes sure to load me with a bodyguard to be safe, little do I know it turns into a whole web of secrets, lies, and history that shouldn’t have been dug up.

(First person pov)

————————————————————————————

Doyoung

• Kalopsia

(First person pov)

————————————————————————————

Nct dream ot7

• Imagine

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

“hii i don't know if you're accepting requests, but could you do nct dream reaction to you still being horny and wanting more rounds, even tho you just had sex and they're exhausted 🫠”

————————————————————————————

Wayv ot6

Nothing yet :( (please request omg)

————————————————————————————

Nct 127 ot9

Nothing yet :(

————————————————————————————

94 notes · View notes

undercovercameron · 2 years

Text

rendezvous

summary: you and rafe have a secret reunion at a party

notes: rafe dresses a lot better in this one btw... also drug and alcohol use in this one! kinda filthy too because i have a suspicion that barry doesn't wash his sheets as often as he should. prepare yourself for lewd language btw, i thought i'd give a formal warning for the first time: i write smut in a way that i personally find to be less cringey/more straight-up and that also means the words i use are more graphic than some might be used to sooooooo brace yourself if you are new. enjoy! this was very fun to write and i also wrote this like three weeks ago teehee

tags: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2318

He ducks to enter the doorway, straightening up as he licks his lips and gets a first look at the room. There are people scattered about the couches, slumped in the corner drunk or sucking the soul out of a bowl or pouring fine powder into uniform lines on the coffee table. You’re standing by the open window, a lit joint at your lips that glows red in an inhale when you turn at the opening door. He gives you a long look, eyes following your body as you turn back to the window, seemingly uninterested.

You blow smoke out of the window, cheeks flushed, and try to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Rafe was a fantasy of yours in highschool. You saw him around the hallway, wearing those goddamn thin tee shirts and slacks that were tight on his ass. He was in one of your classes sophomore year, but that was before he started smoking weed and going out to Chapel Hill for college parties— when he started fucking college girls. It changed him for the better, dare you say it. He matured after his 18th birthday, and now he was less of a fantasy and more of a recurring motivation to masturbate. He was around town, and at both of your golf caddy and grocery delivery jobs. You caught glimpses of dirty blonde hair in the wind, broad shoulders walking past, and rumors of coke benders on Figure Eight. You even caddied once for him, his dad, and his friends: those golf pants didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You wondered if he even owned boxers.

Tonight, he’s dressed in dark green slacks and a flannel over his open chest, only a couple buttons fastened. A wet dream.

And so are you. After making his rounds, slapping handshakes at all his friends and friend’s friend’s, he sits down at a sofa and leans back, elbow propping his head up on the arm rest and just having a nice look at you. You have on this sinful little thing— all black silk and fishnets. Your hair is up, away from that smooth neck, and he can smell your perfume from across the room. Something sweet and deep. Then Barry offers him a line, and then he is ducking to the table, ringed finger pressed to a nostril as the other bumps the white powder. He sniffles once or twice, leaning back into the cushions, and then he needs a drink. He rises to his feet, hands pushing at his knees, and nears the door.

“Anyone need a drink?” He calls through the room, and is met with a general mumble and groan. That’s a no. He disappears into the hallway, re-emerging with two bottles, and you turn back to the window for fear of being caught ogling. But that isn’t possible— he makes his way over to you, and stands at your side.

“Lemonade?” He asks, offering you the bottle, and you look up from your smoldering joint.

“Thank you,” you murmur, putting the joint between your teeth, and take the bottle from him. “Appreciate it, Rafe.”

He pops the cap for you and then his own, bringing it to his mouth.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You think he smiles at you, but then the bottle rises to his lips. “I don’t think I caught your name,” he says, ducking close to you so he can hear your response over the music.

“Y/N,” you say into his ear, following his face as he straightens and has another drink.

“Mm. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your eyebrows raise, incredulous, and you just take a drink. He laughs.

“What? I can’t compliment you?” His head tilts slightly. You shrug, taking a hit of the nearly-burnt out joint.

“You can. But I don’t like teases.” You bend to the ashtray, knocking the ash off and rising back up with a smile on your lips.

“Oh, yeah? You think I’m a tease?” He bows slightly to talk to you, and it makes your thighs clench together. “I hold to my word.”

“Mhm.” You take another hit, ghosting and then blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. You offer the amount left to him between two fingers, and he takes it without a problem. It burns a dim red when he takes a long hit, smoke curling out of his mouth and back into his nose. You watch carefully, not sure where to look: his mouth, his body, or his eyes filled with something you can’t place.

“I think you should kiss me,” he says, flicking the ash off onto the tray and setting the roach down.

“Oh, yeah?” You say, eyebrow quirked, and take a long drink of your vodka lemonade. “Why’s that?”

He ducks to you, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and you feel his breath on your neck. It makes your hair stand up.

“Because I want it.”

You watch him back away, eyes trained on his pink lips.

“Do you always get what you want, Rafe Cameron?” Your head tilts, mocking him from earlier, and finish your drink. You set it down on the window sill, and then you’re moving your fingers in a wave, grin playing your lips, and make your way to the door.

It appears he does, for two hours later he’s got you on your back on Barry’s bed, your legs around him and kissing so furiously at your mouth that you can’t help but sigh into his. His hands find your legs, pushing his fingers through the holes in your fishnets, and he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. His groin pushes between your legs, and then he’s making a noise into your mouth, halfway between a laugh and a groan. His hands fumble with his belt, and you wrap your legs around his back, securing him tightly to you. The belt comes off, and he’s pushing your legs back to your chest and ripping a hole in your pantyhose with his hand. You yelp, pushing up onto your elbows, and watch him fumble to rip them so far that he can slide your panties to the side and get at what he really wants.

“Those were my favorite,” you huff, eyes rising to his.

“Like I care,” he breathes, bringing your face to his with a hand on your jaw. You kiss him messily, fingers gripping his wrist.

A noise like wood creaking makes you two turn your heads, and it’s Barry pushing through the door of his bedroom with a whoop. Your legs fall from Rafe’s torso and you sit up with a sigh.

“Dude, you have to get some of this.” He swings a little baggie in his hand filled with white powder, and Rafe takes it from him with shaky fingers. “You want some?” He asks you, and you just shake your head.

“C’mere,” Rafe says, snapping at you and you lean forward, eyebrows drawn. You don’t love being snapped at like a fucking dog, but you’re sort of curious and sort of a pussy. He rips open the bag, pinching the seal into a point, and grabs your shoulder. You’re jerked forward, collarbone exposed, and he carefully dumps a fat bump into the swell of your bone.

“Get the fuck out, Barry,” Rafe bites through his teeth, and then Barry is raising his hands in surrender and backing out of the room, back to the party. Rafe ducks his head to your neck, and bumps the whole line in three seconds. He backs up, sort of out of it, and his eyes roll with a heavy sniff. “Fuck,” he growls, and his head falls. Your chest heaves with the excitement of the last five minutes, and the fact that he just did coke off of your body, but you have barely enough time to take another breath before Rafe is meeting your mouth in another kiss and shoving you back onto the bed.

You cry out when he yanks you roughly back to him, muscles stretching at the force, but then he’s pushing your dress up and attacking your chest with his tongue and teeth. Your back subconsciously arches into the sensation, fingers tracking through his hair, as you bare your throat to the air in a groan.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you exhale, eyelids falling closed, and he hums into your nipple. He pulls back, lips slick, and fumbles to get his pants unbuttoned.

“Move back,” he tells you, hand at your shoulder, and you scoot back on your hands, frantic to relieve the ache between your legs. He follows you, looking awfully predatory, and you settle back onto the pillows with a sigh. He dips to kiss you, and pushes your panties to the side with two fingers as his thumb brushes against your extremely neglected clit. You jump, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he pulls away to lean down and spit between your legs. You allow yourself one disgusting moan, and then he’s back and rubbing harsh circles into your clit. You reach down and push past his pants to pull his dick out, no underwear keeping him from anything. Just like you thought. He jerks himself a couple times, pushing your hand away, and holds onto your hip as he spreads you open with his fingers and pushes in.

You both groan at the feeling, sweaty foreheads pressed together as you pant. He bows forward, fully seating himself in you, and you cry out at the feeling. It’s so full, so much, and you pulse around him. He buries his face in your neck, pulling nearly all the way back out and slamming back in. You squeak, gripping tight around his shoulders, and jerk back into the wall.

“Fuck,” he pants, mouthing at your neck, and you agree.

“Deeper,” you breathe, urging him on, and he curses.

“Fucking tight.” He bites at your shoulder, and does as he’s told. You jolt again at the feeling, the head of his dick nearly brushing at your cervix, and your head falls back weakly into the pillows.

“Yes,” you sigh, grappling for purchase on his back. You scratch at his shirt and take a fistful.

“God, you’re so wet,” he seethes, grabbing a hand at the headboard railing, and fucks into you with such a force that you nearly see stars. The sound of it makes your chest flush, and you wish that you could take a picture of him like this. Sweaty hair, hand on your hip pushing your legs wider. You’re definitely satisfying your highschool wish.

“You feel so fucking good.” Your voice is high, needy, and your walls squeeze around him at the next bruising thrust.

“Shit, I’m gonna break you,” he grunts, and with a hard hand at your shoulder, pulls out and flips you over. He pulls your dress up past your hips, squeezing an ass cheek, and slides back in with a sigh. His hips slap against your hips, ringing out the room, and your mouth is so wide in a silent whine that your jaw aches. You grab ahold of the headboard, nose brushing it with every thrust, and it’s so good you nearly start praying.

“There! Fuck, Rafe, right there,” you cry out, pushing your face into the pillow. He grips at your shoulder, leaning forward, and wrestles a hand in the sheets to get it between your legs. His fingers find your swollen clit, and your stomach coils in the incoming orgasm. “You feel so good,” you breathe, fingers squeezing the pillow, and push back on his dick with all the strength you have left. He grunts, cursing into your skin. His other hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful, and it’s when your neck jerks back that you cum, squeezing as tight as a vice.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he lets out, voice strained, releasing your hair and pressing a hand flat to your back as he chases his orgasm and fucks into you so hard you feel numb. “Shit,” he breathes, pulling out, and your lower back grows wet as he pumps himself. He pants, chest heaving up and down, and you take a moment to calm yourself. He relaxes, the headboard still supporting his weight, hands pulling at his hair, and just closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever cum that hard. You don’t know if you ever have either.

You swallow, pushing onto your elbow, and cast a look over your shoulder at him. But he comes back into consciousness quickly, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping them up but not buckling. He stumbles off of the bed, disappearing into the bathroom, and comes back with a towel. He wipes at your back, cleaning himself up, and you test out the function of your muscles.

You shift onto your side and with some help of your arm, rise into a sitting position.

“Can you kiss me again?” You ask, and he just grins, shaking his head knowingly. He nears you, taking your face in his hands, and presses a kiss to your mouth. You sigh, content, and close your eyes. He pulls away for a second, just looking at your blissful face. So beautiful.

“I’ve wanted to do that since highschool,” you breathe, opening your eyes, and watch his face contort into confusion. “You walked around in those Dickies—I would’ve dropped to my knees in chemistry.”

He laughs, head ducking bashfully.

“As good as you hoped?” He dips to kiss you again, and your cheeks flush more than necessary.

“Yes,” you breathe, lips teasing him. “I might have to retest, though.”

He nods, pink lips pursed.

“Repeatability is important in the field of science.”

“I knew letting you cheat off of me would have its merits,” you muse, head shaking. His eyes stare down at you, slightly mischevious.

“You have no idea.”

#outer banks #obx #obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

WIBTA for moving out and leaving my roommate?

🦆 <- so I can find later

I (20X) am in uni currently in my sophomore year. I'm autistic and have social anxiety so I have terrible luck making friends and usually end up getting "adopted" by an extrovert. At my uni, it's typical to live in a double room - they do not have separate bedrooms/baths, it's essentially just a bedroom with two beds and two desks in them. My first year of uni I didn't end up with a roommate (which is apparently relatively common for first-years for various reasons) but the extrovert friend I made, let's call them P, did have a roommate that kinda sucked (blasting music into the early morning, bringing friends over without warning, etc).

P and I were friends during our freshman years in that we went out to dinners together and sometimes events. Both of us share the same sort of schedule (although they're in a STEM track and I'm an art history major) and ideals (neither of us are into drinking/drugs/partying). So, naturally, P suggested that we move in as roommates together in sophomore year.

Here's the problem. P is kind of abrasive and honestly downright rude at some points. We're friends, we still hang out and go to dinners/events together and joke around, but a lot of times their "joking around" is just hurtful. For example, they find it funny to gaslight me, or maybe they don't even realize they do it - I say things like "I heard that the dining hall is getting a dessert section" and P will say "no they aren't, you're wrong" and then a week later when the dessert section gets installed, I'll say "ah so they were getting one! I knew it" and they'll say "you literally never said that, I did." They also (physically) shove me around, pour salt in my food while I'm in the restroom, make fun of me for not doing my own laundry (I'm physically disabled, literally can't), say I'm taking "dumb classes" compared to their STEM major, etc. Ive talked to them about their behavior before, but they just said "I was never making fun of you".

The thing is, I hate rooming with P. They're fun to hang out with, and they're funny, but when I hang out with them for too long their jokes just turn into picking on me and I just plain don't find it funny. They're not a bad roommate; they respect my space, don't mess with my stuff (usually), but I just don't feel comfortable living with them.

I tried to "get out" last semester, but the only way I'd be able to move out is if I activated my disability accomodations and asked for a medical single, which would take months to process. It's January now, so if I start the process now, it could be ready by next semester. However, P doesn't want me to leave and is super clingy, texting me when I leave to visit home that they miss me. With their previous experience with a bad roommate, I'm not inclined to give them back up to the roommate lottery again, and they're one of the only friends I have at uni, but at the same time, I don't see how we can work this out because I've already talked to them about it and set boundaries and been ignored.

TL;DR My roommate is a good roommate but bad friend, and I want to move out but I'm worried that they'll get stuck with a bad roommate in my stead. WIBTA for leaving or should I stay and deal with it?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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petedavidsonscock · 1 year

Text

Chowder and Dex have been studying in Chowder’s room for a few hours when Nursey slams open the door, walks in, and collapses onto the bed. He mutters something, but Chowder can’t make it out because Nursey’s face is fully buried in the pillow.

“What?” he asks.

“I said,” Nursey says, turning his head to the side, “I’m melancholic as fuck right now, bros.”

Dex snorts, not looking up from his code.

“How come?” Chowder asks anyway.

“Because the year’s ending .” Nursey pushes himself up just enough that he can flop over onto his back. “Like, sophomore year. We’re already halfway through college. Like, we just got here.”

“Yeah,” Chowder jokes, “our Taddy Tour was last week, right?”

“Exactly! Time moves despite and against our own desires. It’s mad fucked up.”

Nursey closes his eyes, apparently overcome.

When he doesn’t continue for a few moments, Chowder opens his mouth to prompt him, but Dex elbows him and mutters, “Don’t encourage him.”

Chowder frowns. He says in a low voice, “I’m not encouraging him, I’m talking to him.”

“Same difference,” Dex says flatly.

“What, you don’t think I should talk to him?”

Dex makes a face like, Yeah, kinda . Chowder makes a face back like, Explain yourself then .

“Like, he’s just sad and wants attention right now.”

“So what?” Chowder asks, genuinely confused. “We’re his friends, that’s part of the deal.”

“Well, it’s like—you can’t—” Dex stops, looking frustrated. “It’s like, you have to distract him. Or else he’ll keep working himself up into a fucking, like, pit of ennui.”

Nursey jerks upright. “Ennui? Did you just say ennui?”

He grins at Dex, who glares back at him and says, “I know the word ennui.”

Dex and Nursey have a side-pot Sin Bin, for when Dex uses a particularly English-major word or phrase, which, to his own frustration, he’s doing increasingly often.

“Babe,” Nursey is saying, “you did not know what ennui meant before me.”

“Yeah, I did. How the fuck would you know?”

“ Ennui . Come on. Admit that’s me. That’s a dollar.”

“I know words,” Dex argues, while Chowder plucks the computer off Dex’s lap and shuts it. “Just because I’m not majoring in sucking T.S. Eliot’s dick doesn’t mean I don’t know the word ennui.”

Nursey brightens even more. “ And bringing up a modernist poet. Two dollars.”

“No, fuck you.”

Nursey cocks his head, eyes wide and exaggeratedly interested, until Dex sags.

“Fine, I’ll give you Eliot. But,” he adds quickly, “I did know the word ennui. Otherwise I couldn’t have done so well on the SAT.”

Nursey groans, long and loud. “No one’s asking you. No one wants to hear about this.”

There are a few moments of silence while Chowder bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I don’t know if I remember,” he manages after a moment. “What did you get, Dex?”

“It’s pretty easy to remember,” Dex says, “in case you ever forget again. You just take Nursey’s score—” He ducks to avoid a flying pillow “—and add ten points. Convenient, huh?”

He smirks at Chowder, who says, “Ohh, cool, thanks, Dex,” and then Nursey starts hitting Dex with Chowder’s favorite stuffed shark while Dex scrambles to protect his face. As he watches Nursey get in a few solid hits, mussing up Dex’s hair, Chowder feels really glad he moved the laptop.

“Wait, guys,” Chowder says, as Dex gives up trying to fend Nursey off and attempts to grab the toy shark instead. Nursey pulls it out of the way, and Dex nearly overbalances, but recovers just in time for Nursey to smack him again.

“Fuck you,” he sputters, laughing, and stands for better reach. Nursey scrambles to his knees on the bed so he can maintain some height, and hits Dex before switching the shark to his other hand to hold it out of danger. Chowder watches, horrified, as Dex, in scrabbling for the stuffed animal, falls basically on top of Nursey. They're still presumably fighting over Chowder’s (innocent!) shark, but, with the inevitability of a car crash, there comes a moment when they both stop laughing to look at each other. Dex is propped over Nursey, they're staring into each other’s eyes, it’s really clear what they're both thinking about, and Chowder wants to die. He’s happy that his two best friends don’t hate each other anymore, he is, but this might actually be worse.

(It’s not really worse. He’s really happy for them. But, like, seriously? In his bed?)

“Um, guys?” he tries, but his voice comes out quiet and very high pitched. “Guys!”

They startle apart.

Or, actually, Dex hastily shoves himself off of Nursey and to a sitting position. He scowls, already starting to turn red.

“Uh,” says Nursey, who has better maintained his composure. “Yeah, as I was saying, uh.” He blinks hard, regrouping. “It’ll be weird when everything changes, you know?”

Chowder gives him a few long moments to squirm—which Nursey doesn’t, because he has a great poker face, but Chowder hopes he feels really awkward inside—before picking up the conversation.

“That makes sense,” he acknowledges. “But you have to have change to have improvement, right? I mean, graduating will be scary, but it’ll be nice to live in a place that has, you know, normal, not-falling-apart furniture and actually hot water.”

Dex looks up. “Is the hot water out again? I thought I took care of that last week.”

Oh. “Oh, yeah. It’s still working in other places, just not in my bathroom.” Chowder has been meaning to call maintenance. “But I really feel like this time it’ll fix itself if I wait long enough.”

Dex rolls his eyes and gets up. “I’m gonna get my stuff. C, just tell me next time.”

He leaves, presumably to get his tools from his dorm. When the door closes behind him, Chowder glances at Nursey, who looks—God. Besotted might be the right word. After a moment, Nursey flops backwards onto the bed.

“Ugh.”

Chowder glances down at his computer and deletes a stray line break.

“You know,” he says softly, “we’re still gonna have this. After, I mean.”

“Have what?” Nursey asks without opening his eyes. “Dex being pissy all the time?”

“Us. The Frogs.”

Nursey sighs. “I guess.”

“No, really.” Chowder slides out of his chair to sit cross-legged on the floor, ticking points off on his fingers, getting more certain as he speaks. “Rans and Holster are gonna be here for like every Kegster. Bitty’s totally gonna move in with Jack when he graduates, and that’s only forty minutes away. And we have a whole year before that of him being captain.” He can’t help but grin. “He’s gonna be ‘swawesome . And, like, when it’s our turn, we’re not gonna stop being friends just ‘cause we don’t have to skate suicides at 5am together anymore.”

Nursey is still enough that Chowder can tell he’s listening intently now.

“It’ll be different,” Chowder adds. “But we’ll still be us.” He hesitates, then takes the plunge. “And you and Dex…”

“What?”

“You’re both obviously in it for the long run.”

“Oh,” Nursey says. He totally fails to sound normal. “You think?”

Chowder snorts. “Uh, yeah. The other day he asked me whether it would be weird to invite you to his family’s Thanksgiving.”

Nursey props himself up on an elbow to stare at Chowder. “Wait, like, next year Thanksgiving? It’s April.”

The expression on his face is so stunned that Chowder finally lets out the laugh that’s been building inside him for most of this conversation. “Yep,” he says finally.

“Oh,” Nursey says. There’s a smile growing on his face, so sincere that Chowder almost feels like he’s intruding. “That’s chill.”

“Yeah,” Chowder says, then considers. “I think it’s maybe all gonna be okay, actually.”

Nursey turns that smile onto him. “You know I love you, right, man?”

Chowder picks himself up off the floor: this moment definitely calls for a hug. “‘Course I know that,” he tells him. “I love you too.”

~~~

thanks for reading! here’s the ao3 link for if u want to leave a kudos/comment.

#omgcp #nurseydex #the frogs #my writing #my stuff #i should have a tag #for things i've written #anyway #thanks for reading

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juw0ng · 1 year

Text

g!p yunjin x chaewon

warning: smut

note: this is an adaptation,credit to the original author.

— —

Chaewon had been doing this since she was a sophomore,but the nerve wracking-ness of it was still strong as the first day she snuck out of school.

She swallowed hard and surveyed the empty hallway where her locker was.The exit towards the back of the school was a few feet away,and she knew for a fact that no one ever checks the security cameras.Hybe High was too lenient to do routine checks.So skipping class was too easy.Everyone had done it at least once,but common practice never made Chaewon feel better about it.

What made her feel better was seeing Yunjin.

Chaewon glanced at her phone and saw two texts from her girlfriend.

"— Where are you babe ? I’ve been here for more than twenty minutes"

"— Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty now ???"

Chaewon chuckled and wiped her glasses.She liked making Yunjin wait,it made her needier and her desperation was always a turn on.Chaewon liked being in control like that.Still,she packed up her things and confidently,so as not to attract too much attention,walked out the back entrance to the student parking lot where Yunjin was waiting in the middle of the parking lot.She was playing with her phone,Chaewon’s helmet tucked under her arm.It was black with a haphazard spray paint of a gold star on it—Yunjin’s own doing.

"There you are." Yunjin grinned at the sight of her. "You didn't get in trouble, did you?" She was dressed in a black jacket, the collar popped up to ward off the spring breeze.Her eyes, hidden by reflective sunglasses,and her motorcycle rumbled while she was perched on it."Still feeling guilty?"

Chaewon shook her head and stood beside Yunjin as she placed the helmet on her head. She adjusted the straps and leaned in to kiss her,forehead bumping against the hard plastic. "Hop on,baby."

She rode behind Yunjin and wrapped her arms around her narrow waist,palms grazing her thighs over her tight jeans.Yunjin made a soft noise as she kicked the stand,the motorcycle pulling out of the parking lot."Watch those hands kitten,i don’t wanna get into an accident just because you can't get your hands off my dick."

Chaewon nudged her head against Yunjin’s back as she laughed,but kept her hands still for the time being.She instead relished the feel of Yunjin’s back against her body.Chaewon loved the firmness of her,her warmth,her smell.She closed her eyes while Yunjin wove through the empty roads,in no rush to get to wherever she wanted to go.

At a stoplight,Chaewon blindly palmed Yunjin’s crotch until she found the shape of her cock where the ripped denim stretched taut.She rubbed the growing bulge,Yunjin groaning under her breath.”Babe,you're not really planning on jacking me off while we wait for this red light,are you?"

Chaewon didn't reply.Instead,she tugged Yunjin’s zipper and wriggled her hand in between the slit to feel her cock."Commando?" She asked,her fingertip tracing the vein that was thick and throbbing along her shaft. "Yunjin,you naughty girl."

"Excuse me,miss hand down my pants." Yunjin continued to drive as the light turned green.The motorcycle stuck down the road."Seriously,Chaewon…Hands off or you'll get fined,by me.Distracted driving is a bad thing,remember?"

Yunjin was grasping at straws now and Chaewon couldn't help but grin.The power over her,it was intoxicating.She pulled out Yunjin’s cock and the brown-haired girl moaned,the engine revving fiercely when her grip tightened on the acceleration."Fuck..."

"Hurry up and take us home,Yunjin."Chaewon muttered."And I promise I'll pay my 'fine' by sucking your hard cock off."

Yunjin’s head tilted and Chaewon knew she was glancing at her hands wrapped around the thick stalk of her cock."I still remember when you couldn’t say dick without blushing.I kinda miss those days because you wouldn't pull out my cock like this while I'm driving."

Chaewon smiled and said nothing until Yunjin parked on the Kim driveway.Yunjin looked around before getting off.She helped Chaewon off the bike and carried her bag for her."Come on,let's get inside."

In no rush at all,Chaewon grasped Yunjin’s hand and led her inside.Once the front door slammed shut,Yunjin groaned in relief that no one saw them."You're getting more and more risky by the minute."She commented.

Chaewon smirked and tugged Yunjin’s cock."Shush."She pressed her into the door and pumped her thick shaft.Kissing Yunjin,she tasted mint candy and Chapstick on her lips."You better not be smoking again."Chaewon whispered against her lips.She locked eyes with Yunjin.Licked her hand to lube up her strokes. Yunjin convulsed at the action, the look in her eye.

She sank to her knees and licked the slit of Yunjin’s cock.It drew out a line of precum which Chaewon swallowed.Yunjin’s hand was pale on the doorknob,as if to prevent anyone from coming in."Look at you,still in the foyer but you're already on your knees for my dick."Yunjin smirked but Chaewon was having none of it.In one swift movement,Yunjin’s cock disappeared in her mouth,all nine inches of it."Holy fucking shit!" She groaned.

But as soon as Chaewon was on Yunjin’s dick, she was gone in the same instant.She looked at Chaewon,dazed."Wh—why did you stop?…"

Chaewon showed off the straight rows of her teeth and took languid steps up the stairs."I thought I might make you beg today."

Yunjin pouted but followed after her."But you just did it yesterday."

"What can I say? I like being in power,love hearing you beg and whine for my pussy on your dick."

Yunjin sighed and ran her hands through her hair."No one would ever believe me if I say that a nerd like you has such a big mouth with a propensity to be dominant."

"Oh, but you enjoy it so much."Chaewon laughed softly and opened the door to her bedroom.Yunjin kicked off her shoes and was about to strip off her pants.Chaewon stopped her."Keep those on,take off your shirt and jacket."

Yunjin obeyed,no questions asked."Yeah I like it when you own me,baby." She laid on the end,legs crossed,cock sticking out of the zipper of her trousers."But sometimes you do that thing where you don't make me come and it feels like I'm going to explode…But then you do make me come." She watched Chaewon walk around, folding clothes and brushing her hair."And it feels like my entire body is on fire, you know?"

Smiling,Chaewon nodded."That's the point.It's called edging,baby.Know your terms."

"What,I'm getting a vocabulary lesson now?" Yunjin grunted."No thanks."

"Fine,be that way.Tell me, are you going to be a good girl or am I going to have to tie you up?"

"I'll be good." Yunjin fidgeted slightly to get more comfortable.She gripped the runs of the head of Chaewon’s bed as her girlfriend stripped down to nothing.She crawled in bed with Yunjin,between her legs.Chaewon rubbed the muscles of her calves,the firm flesh of her thighs.The entire time,Yunjin watched Chaewon,and Chaewon took her time with her.She raked her nails along her legs.Fingertips brushed the swell of Yunjin’s cum-loaded balls.

A tremor coursed through Yunjin and she couldn't help but groan.She fidgeted a bit and swallowed.Chaewon winked up at her and nuzzled her abs,stomach sinking at the light touch.She needed more,and Chaewon knew it.But she won't give Yunjin whatever she wanted.First,she would have her fun.

Chaewon sprawled down on the bed,her naked torso pressed tight against Yunjin’s ribcage.She parted her lips and flattened her tongue on her nipple.She sucked on the stiff bud,swirled her tongue around it,as her palm grasped the thick stalk of Yunjin’s cock.Chaewon alternated between sucking and licking and nipping Yunjin’s nipples and the swell of her breasts while she lightly strokes her dick from the base to the swollen head.

"Fuck..." Yunjin’s eyes were squeezed shut and her upper arms trembled from the strain of gripping the metal runs.Chaewon ceased her sucking to kiss Yunjin’s cheek."Chae...I can't take too much of this fucking teasing."

"Patience is a virtue."Chaewon chastised and released Yunjin’s cock.She rifled through her drawer and took out a bottle of lube.Sitting between Yunjin’s legs,Chaewon crossed her legs and uncapped the bottle.She dribbled the cold liquid all over Yunjin’s hard shaft and set it on the floor.

Yunjin’s cock strained while Chaewon massaged the lube on her balls until they were shimmering and slippery enough for Chaewon to play with.She rolled the spheres in her palm,teased the baby soft skin,and licked the head of Yunjin’s dick.It twitched as soon as it made contact with Chaewon tongue,and Yunjin’s breath hitched.

"mmh…" Yunjin whined,back arching off the bed in a perfect curve.Chaewon relished her whimpers as she wrapped her dainty hands around Yunjin’s length.Two fists,yet it wasn't enough to cover Yunjin’s length,a few inches jutting out of Chaewon’s fist.She mouthed at the tip,tongue swirling and digging firmly into the slit that leaked precum."k—…kitten…fuck..."

Chaewon pumped her cock,slick noises coming from her palms as she fucked it on Yunjin’s dick.She released it fully and grinned as it bobbed between her legs.The brown-haired girl cried out,fisting the bed sheets.She didn't want to break the runs of Chaewon’s headboard like last time."Don't stop, don't stop..." She panted.

So Chaewon picked her cock up again.She bobbed her head,smoothing her hand on the rest of her cock that she didn't have down her throat.Each thrust of her mouth earned a wet,choking noise as Yunjin’s shaft breached Chaewon’s talented,gag reflex-less throat.Each time,Yunjin would gasp and her cock would twitch.Chaewon kept this brutal,rapid pace until Yunjin was whimpering that she was about to come.

Chaewon stopped.Left Yunjin’s dick jumping against her stomach.She wiped the corners of her mouth and smirked at the dazed look in Yunjin’s eyes."P—pl...please…let me come." Yunjin scratched out.Her cock twitched again.Chaewon straddled her stomach and she ground her pussy against Yunjin’s flexing stomach.”You're so fucking wet…Fuck."

Humming softly,Chaewon planted her hands on either side of Yunjin’s head.She humped her pussy against her abdomen and kissed her.Slow and deep.In time with her gyrations.Yunjin was breathing heavily and Chaewon could feel her hot breath,steady against her mouth."Fuck me." Chaewon murmured,sucking on the tip of Yunjin’s tongue.Yunjin trembled,her arms tight around Chaewon’s body.

Chaewon kissed Yunjin and shifted away from her.She went on her elbows and knees,cheek flush against the blankets.Yunjin scrambled to her knees.She parted Chaewon’s ass cheeks,licked her folds to get a taste of her while the smaller girl squirmed."Lick that pussy." Chaewon breathed,eyes squeeze shut.She'd been so aroused playing with Yunjin’s dick that she was sure that if she kept up the harsh sucks on her pussy lips,she would come.

And she did.With a squeal,Chaewon’s liquid gushed all over Yunjin’s eager tongue.It dragged up her folds and slid right into her clenching hole.Yunjin fucked her tongue into her until her convulsions eased,and that was when she slammed her rigid cock inside Yeji.

The black-haired girl cried out as her pussy stretched to accommodate Yunjin’s girth.She bent over her back,her arms sliding underneath Chaewon’s body to grasp her throat lightly.Yunjin covered Chaewon entire body with hers as she humped into her while her cock reached the deepest parts of her.Chaewon reached back and grabbed handfuls of Yunjin’s hair."That's it baby,mount my pussy." She gasped against her jaw.

"You're too much." Yunjin panted against Chaewon’s neck.Her legs went on a straddling position and it allowed her to pound Chaewon with heavy,hard thrusts that the smaller girl definitely liked.She squealed each time Yunjin sheathed her cock inside her."You're going to make me bust already."

"Keep fucking me."Chaewon whined,ass rutting back to meet Yunjin’s forceful thrusts—so forceful that the headboard would knock against the wall,acting as the metronome to their fucking."Don't you dare stop,Yunjin.I haven't had enough of your cock."

Yunjin snorted and mouthed at Chaewon’s ear.She licked the shell,nipped her earlobe with her lips and teeth."You'll never get enough of my dick."She retorted.

Chaewon tugged sharply on Yunjin’s hair and made soft noises in the back of her throat with every hard pump.Yunjin dragged her hands along Chaewon’s sides.Gripped her hips and leaned back to watch the way her dick slide in and out of Chaewon’s gorgeous pink pussy.Her cock would make a filthy noise-wet and somehow mind-numbing—and it would push her a little bit closer to the edge of coming.

Yunjin pounded into Chaewon,driving her face first into the sheets."God damn,baby…I'm g- gonna..." She trailed off.Yunjin’s ass continued to flex while she made shallow jerks of her hips,her cum spurting in thick ropes,enough to fill Chaewon’s pussy.It clamped around her throbbing cock.She came so hard she swore her vision dimmed for a minute.Yunjin was too engrossed in finally getting to come that she didn't realize Chaewon was coming too.

She rutted into Chaewon’s pussy as together they rode out their orgasm.Yunjin flattened herself against Chaewon’s body and kissed all over her neck."Fucking hell,babe…You're amazing."

Chaewon grinned and angled her neck for a kiss which Yunjin readily supplied."See,I told you edging makes you come harder."

Yunjin pulled out and rolled Chaewon to lay on her back.She spread her legs and hummed at the delectable sight of her load trickling out of Chaewon’s blushing pussy."It does…"she whispered against Chaewon’s inner thighs.Nibbled her softness, her sweat-coated skin."Let me clean you up."

Closing her eyes, Chaewon hooked her legs on Yunjin’s shoulders.Grasped a handful of her hair and dragged her nails along her scalp as she felt her tongue sliding against her hole. "Oh... You're so good to me…"

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