#I COULD NOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME GET THE POSES DOWN

[thestraybunny]

Heartrate| K.MG

Pairing: Non-idol Kim Mingyu x Afab! reader, mention of Jeon Wonwoo x Afab!Reader WC: 15.1K Genre: Non-Idol AU, Romance Rating: E (18+, MDNI) Warnings: Slight violence, Drinking, Sex under the influence, Mingyu is a bit of an idiot but we love him, a little angst, fluff, Mingyu just sexy

Summary: Jeon Wonwoo can kiss your ass for making you come out tonight.

A/N: This is part of the Seventeen K-Series and was loosely inspired by Mingyu in the Eyes On You M/V, just the part where he fights people, not dies. But Mingyu, oh Mingyu. Hes one of my top three Wreckers and he literally destroys me. ^.^ enjoy!

Jeon Wonwoo can kiss your ass for making you come out tonight.

Just because his introverted ass didn’t want to be dragged out alone by his social butterfly of a best friend and roommate, he had to drag your equally as introverted self out for a night out.

“You owe me.” You remember he texted you earlier that day, “I have helped you out several times. You can do this for me.”

One, you didn’t owe your friend shit since one of thetimes he was referring to, where he posed as your wedding date for your dad's 3rd wedding, you paid him at least 300,000 won and he got a free destination trip out of it. Not to mention, you gave him some of the best sex of his life that weekend too. No, you do not owe Jeon Wonwoo shit.

Yet here you are, sitting in the corner of a large booth, surrounded by several of his and his roommate’s friends and an untouched drink in front of you. Watching as everyone around you talked loudly, laughing, drinking and Soonyoung looked like he was ready to cry for the second time that night. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

“Are you doing, okay?” It was Hansol who had asked you, sitting across from you, and your eyes casted up to the younger man. You could tell he was watching you for a while by his sympathetic smile, especially since Wonwoo had been pulled away from the table a while back by some of the guys to the bar. His roommate being the main one dragging him, and all your friend could do was give you an apologetic glance. “You look like you want to run away.”

This caught the attention of Joshua and Seungcheol who were sitting next to both of you and turned to you. This made you shift uncomfortably because you were not one to like to be in the center of attention or called out for your lack of social interest. You weren’t that close to Wonwoo’s friends, but they were always so friendly toward you when he did drag you out.

They also knew you were a bigger introvert than your glasses wielding friend and went out way less than he did. In fact, the group was surprised you even showed up with him, but his best friend/roommate, Mingyu, was overly ecstatic to see you. Engulfing you into a near back breaking hug the moment he laid his eyes on you, wearing that dazzling smile he would sport when seeing you. Just like they always did when you would come around.

“That makes me sound like I’m an antisocial bitch who doesn’t like to be around you guys.” You sigh, finally reaching for your drink. Most the ice has melted, so the once very sweet drink tasted watered down, but either way you drank it. No one responded, they just stared at you, “Okay I am antisocial, but I do like being around you guys… Just…”

“Not in a place like this.” Seungcheol finished for you, and you nodded. Pouring you a shot of soju, he pushed it across the table to you, “Trust me I get it. I rather be home right now with my girl, or in game with some of these assholes. But you know how Mingyu is.”

“Or even a quiet bar that isn’t packed full of people. But what Mingyu wants, we all give him, right?” You accept the shot with a smile.

“Not every…ow! The fuck Seungcheol,” Joshua gave the eldest of the friend group a dirty look, but you had missed the silent exchange the two men had. Too busy throwing back the soju shot.

“Where is Wonwoo? He normally would find his way back over by now.” You mumble, looking around for him, but in the packed club, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead under the strobe of lights, you laid your eyes on the tall figure making his way through the crowd.

The lights would hit his face every so often, and you could see his smile still as wide, with the rounds of his cheeks and smile lines prominent. The way the different color lights would hit his tanned skin emphasized how good looking he was, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze from him. And it felt like his eyes were on you.

Dark hair falling past his brow, a black vest top under a matching button up that he left several undone at the top. He was in a pair a faded relaxed jeans, and what looked like a pair of boots. An odd choice to go to a club where he would be dancing with girls who wear opened toe heels. Kim Mingyu looked like he walked right out of a photoshoot, and ready for the night on the town.

He was there to impress and have fun. Dragging everyone with him.

Wonwoo was still nowhere to be found, and you were starting to get a little anxious. He didn’t ditch you, did he?

“Noona! Come dance with me!” Mingyu’s voice rang out over the music, his smile widening. Something you didn’t know was possible either, feeling the eyes of his friends on you, but you couldn’t look away from him. You watch as he turns his attention to Joshua, “Move.”

Joshua was up thinking that you were going to get out to go with Mingyu, but instead the younger man dropped down into his seat. Leaving the older man shocked and the group still at the table laughing. He then took the chair that had once belonged to Seungkwan, who was somewhere on the dance floor with Seokmin and several others. Muttering something that only earned an elbow from Mingyu as he holds your gaze.

“What you say? You came all the way out tonight, you gotta join me on the dance floor at least once and share a shot with me.” He grabbed the soju bottle that was in the middle of the table, pulling two empty shot glasses in front of him. He was a little sloppy pouring them but pushed one into your hand. Turning his whole upper body to face you, his smile blinding. “To a night of the unexpected!”

You hadn’t said a single word in this entire exchange, the small glass of clear liquid in your hands waiting to be drank with Mingyu. Instead, you looked at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly dropped, forgetting that you two were in the middle of the club with his and Wonwoo’s friends.

Then it was like you were on autopilot, moving the shot up to your lips as Mingyu did. Since you were older than Mingyu, he typically would turn away, but instead you both kept your eyes fixed on each other as you both took it. Setting the glass down, the younger man reached out and took yours from you.

“Come dance with me now.” He spoke again, his voice still loud enough for you to hear him over the music, but soft enough that sounded like a small plea, his hand engulfing yours, as he pulls you to stand up. Normally you were able to resist the taller man, telling him no, and felt yourself was invincible to his little whine that came with puppy dog eyes.

But this time you didn’t as you nod, sliding out of the booth to go with him to the dance floor. The alcohol mixed with the way the lights were hitting Mingyu made your normal reservations dissipate, and you let him take the lead.

To a night of the unexpected.

---

The dance floor was sweltering with the numerous bodies pressed together under the colorful strobes, having fun and dancing to a remix that was blasting over the speakers. So loud that you almost couldn’t think, and Mingyu’s close presence didn’t help much either.

You had found Wonwoo once on the dance floor, the poor man somehow in the middle of Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung. The three of them looked like they were all possessed or having seizures while the glasses wielded man was dancing in tiny. From the look on his face, he was a mixture of embarrassed by the BooSeokSoon cage he was in, amused by their antics, and off in his own world. Like he was stuck there for the time being and had to make the most of it.

He made eye contact with you when you first got on the floor, giving you a small smirk before going back to dancing. Your attention hadn’t been on your friend long, feeling Mingyu pull you against him, his hands moving to rest on your hips as yours moved to rest on his shoulders. Your eyes moved back to the smile that he hasn’t left since walking up to the table, his little vampire like canines on full display.

“You having fun?” he asks having to yell, but you could barely hear him over the music. It was so much louder on the dance floor then in the booth you were originally hiding in and if it wasn’t for how close the two of you were, you might not have been able to hear him at all. “Or would you rather be hiding away in your little apartment with your books?”

“Well, of course given the choice, I’d rather be at home with my books. I am reading a particularly good one right now about pirates and sirens.” You answer him as he leans down to hear you better, and you got a whiff of the perfume he was wearing. Sweet with a cedar undertone. You have smelled it on him before, but in passing, not up close as it was now. The way it mixed with the natural scent of Mingyu filled your senses and was near intoxicating.

“Well, how can I compete with that,” Mingyu let out a chuckle, and you could only blink at him, catching the hidden sarcastic tone to his joke. “But I am glad you came out. What did Wonwoo-Hyung gotta do to convince you.”

“Blackmail mostly, and the promise of buying me food after.” You answer, and this made the younger man laugh as he looks down to you. Even with the height of your heels, he still towered over you. “Calling in on favors that I didn’t know I owed him.”

“Ah so he used my tactic that I use on him.” He looked so proud of this bit of information, and it actually made you chuckle, looking away for a moment to see that Joshua had joined the cage that was surrounding Wonwoo. You weren’t sure what the four were doing, but it didn’t look like dancing.

“Should we go save him from those four?” You ask, and Mingyu followed your gaze to your shared friend and his four captives. Now five since Jun had just gotten there and was on the dance floor in an instant. “Well, five now.”

“Nah, he’s going to be okay. He’ll escape when he’s ready.” Mingyu voice was so much closer to your ear, and you could feel his breath brush against your hot skin. It was cooling against the warmth of the lights but added its own set of heat that started to pass over your entire body. When you turned your eyes back to the man you were dancing with, you realized he had leaned in further and you nearly bumped noses with him. “Let’s just keep dancing.”

His strong hands moved from your hips to your waist, before slowly trailing them up your spine then back down. All while keeping your body pressed against his tall muscular frame, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped down to your lips for the briefest of moments. When he did this, you honestly thought he was going to kiss you, instead Mingyu leaned back slightly to get lost in the music as you danced together. And you felt like you were short circuiting.

Swaying you in rhythm of his body, you were suddenly very aware of what was happening. Your body was not only hot from the hot club lights, from the crowded dance floor, or the alcohol coursing through your system. It was also from Kim Mingyu.

You became painfully aware of the way his muscles moved and felt even under the layers of clothes, the heat radiating from him was hotter than anything else in this place. So hot that you were surprised the soft material of your dress wasn’t starting to singe away under his touch. That you hadn’t caught fire when you were feeling like you were going to combust.

“You look beautiful tonight,” His mouth was close to your ear again, the familiar feeling of his breath against your skin was back. Now mixed with this sudden compliment, you didn’t know what to think. You tried to pull away, but his hold was firm, so the most you could do was pull your head back to look at him. There was something different by the way he was looking at you, like you were the stars and the moon in the sky, “I mean you always do, but tonight, you are radiant.”

Where was this coming from? In all the years that you knew Mingyu as Wonwoo’s roommate/best friend he had never shown any interest in you, and he most definitely never told you that you were beautiful… or radiant. Normally if you came by their apartment or saw him when you had dinner with them, he would keep all conversations casual. It had to of been the alcohol talking, the loud music pounding in your ears, the closeness of your bodies. Mingyu did not see you as anything more than Wonwoo’s friend.

So, why did it feel like he wanted to kiss you?

“I need to get some air.” You suddenly yelled, sliding your hands from his shoulders to his chest, pushing him back to let go of you. Which he did with no resistance, but his face wore a look of confusion. “Thanks for the dance.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned and rushed toward the door, stopping at the booth to grab your bag. Vernon and Seungcheol were still at the table and had taken the liberty to watch over the satchel for you. They looked confused when seeing the flustered look on your face, and how you bowed your head in apologies. From the dance floor, the rest of the group stopped to watch you in equal confusion.

Mingyu stood where you left him, while Wonwoo tried to push passed Seokmin and Soonyoung to stop you, but you were already heading for the door. You needed to make an exit and fast. Whether you were going to come back was still in the air, suddenly wanting to go home and hide under your large, weighted blanket with your book. Music playing softly from your home speakers and not so loud you couldn’t think.

Think of anything other than the way Mingyu was looking at you.

When the cool night air hit your face, you felt a rush of relief hit you. The feeling of being able to breathe again, and the places where Mingyu had touched cooling down. You didn’t know what to think as you almost stumbled back when your heel caught a crack in the sidewalk. What was that back there?

“Fuck,” You grunted, undoing the heel when it wouldn’t budge, and tried to pull it off with your hands. It finally came loose, and you were quick to shove it back on your foot and lacing it back around your ankle. Moving to the side of the building, you leaned against the cool brick wall of the club. Helping you center yourself better and looking back to see if anyone followed you.

You were sure that Wonwoo saw the interaction and would be following you or cornering Mingyu to demand what happened. It was only a matter of time before him or another person from his friend group came out to check on you. You may not be close to them, but they still would look out for you and kept in touch. Only you hoped it would be anyone but Mingyu, not sure if you can face him.

Leaning your head back against the wall, you contemplated to just leave. Text Wonwoo and tell him that you fulfilled the favor but now you were going to go home. Maybe put some distance between you and Mingyu for a while, but the people pleaser in you didn’t want to hurt his feelings because you don’t know how to react to his sudden interest.

“Why hello there beautiful,” A voice spoke next to you, one you didn’t recognize, causing you to turn your head toward a man you had never seen before. He must have just walked up because you didn’t see anyone other than the bouncer originally, and now he was leaning next to you with a lopsided grin on his face. He looked to be around your age or older, and he was not bad looking, but not your type at all. Nor did you like the way his drunk eyes raked over you. It wasn’t the way Mingyu would look at you. “What are you doing out here by yourself? Looking for company?”

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes to offer you one, which you shook your head as you finally spoke, “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“What about some company?” You flinch when he reaches out and brushes your bare shoulder with a knuckle and you pushed off the wall to move back to the front of the club. Maybe back inside to find one of the guys so he would leave you alone.

“No thank you, I am here with friends, so I have plenty of company.” You decline going to walk away when you felt him grab your wrist to bring you back. You tried to pull away, but he held onto you. “Let go.”

“Why? I am good company.”

“Let go, please.” You tell him again, trying to pull your wrist away from him. Even though you didn’t look it, you were strong enough to hold your own and typically can protect yourself if needed, but you weren’t able to break his hold.

“Come on, I don’t bite. You’ll have fun with me,” the hold he had on your wrist tightened, and you were close to screaming for the bouncer and kick him in the balls when a sudden fist connected with the guy's face. Causing him to let go of you.  

You take a step back with your hands flying up to cover your mouth in shock, staring at an equally shocked Mingyu. He was staring at both his hand and the guy now on the ground holding his jaw. You both heard the footsteps of the bouncer making his way around the corner. Before you could even think, you grabbed Mingyu’s hand.

“Come on,” you tell him, pulling him to run with you. After nearly tripping over the guy, Mingyu started to run too. There was yelling behind you both, but neither of you looked back.

When you started to fall behind because of your heels, instead of stopping to help you take them off, Mingyu scooped you into his arms like you were nothing. Barely stopping to pick you up before he continued to run, glancing down toward you with a lopsided smile.

It wasn’t for another few blocks until he finally slowed to a stop and let you down. Dropping his hands to his knees to catch his breath, though it didn’t sound like he needed to. Looking up toward you, that same lopsided smile returned as he straightened, “Didn’t think the first time I got to pick you up was to help you run away.”

For some reason this made you burst out laughing, which he chuckled in confusion before it turned into a full belly laugh. Neither of you were sure why you were laughing, Mingyu assaulted someone to protect you and you both ran from it. There was nothing funny about what happened, but you both couldn’t stop.

“Is your hand okay?” You finally get out, grabbing his hand to check it, his knuckles already looking like they were bruising. While you were looking over his hand, you didn’t catch that he was just watching you. “You look like you hit him pretty hard.”

“I’m okay. No one is allowed to touch you like that without your permission.” He answers, as you look back up to him. His gaze was on you the same way it was on the dance floor, like you were the stars and the moon. “He has no right to touch you like that, especially when you told him to let you go…. Honestly, are you okay?”

“I am okay,” Your words come out softer than you intended, not letting go of his hand. “Thank you, you didn’t have to punch him but thank you for sticking up for me.”

“I would do it a million times over.”

For a charged moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, but the sound of both your phones going off at the same time took you out of that thought. Pulling out your phones together, you see that Wonwoo was calling you while Seungkwan was calling Mingyu. Looking toward each other, you started to bite at your bottom lip nervously.

“Go ahead and answer. I am sure they are wondering what happened and where we are.” Mingyu told you and you nodded. Both of you answering at the same time.

“Hey, Woo.” You answer, and you could hear the sigh of relief when he heard your voice.

“Are you okay?” You could hear your friend’s concern, “Me and Seungkwan went to follow Mingyu out to look for you, but you both were gone by the time we got out there. What happened? Did Mingyu actually punch that guy?”

“Hell yeah, I punched him. He wouldn’t let her go.” You heard Mingyu answer proudly, and how close you both were standing, you knew Wonwoo heard him too.

“Well, that answers my question.” Wonwoo let out a dry chuckle, and you could tell he wasn’t happy with what’s going on. “Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

You look down to see you were still holding onto his hand, before up toward Mingyu, who was already looking at you. You could hear Seungkwan through his phone asking him the same thing. Likely to take you both home, separately, so they could hide the ‘fugitives’ as Seungkwan called you both. There was a silent conversation between the two of you, and something in you clicked with the way he was gazing at you.

“I… I think I am okay. I am with Mingyu, so it’s not like I’m alone.” You tell Wonwoo over the phone, watching as a wide smile spread across Mingyu’s face. “I think I am gonna head home though.”

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” Wonwoo held nothing but concern for you, and he probably thought you were going to leave Mingyu to find his way back. But the look in his eyes told you, and the way his fingers laced through yours, that he wasn’t going to leave your side.

“I’m not, Woo, Mingyu is walking me.” You tell him before he could say anything more, giving Mingyu a small timid smile.

“I am gonna walk her home. I’ll call you when I get home.” You watch him tell Seungkwan, before hanging up.

“Will one of you text me when you get home?”

“Of course, I know the drill as long as you do the same.”

“Like always. Have fun and be safe.” There was a tease to Wonwoo’s tone as he said the last statement, hanging up before you could even respond to it. Why did he say it like that?

“So, I am actually hungry. All that dancing, defending your honor, and running for our lives has really worked me up an appetite. What you say we stop by somewhere on the way to yours?” Mingyu offered and you could feel your cheeks warming.

“You got a place in mind?” You ask him, and he lets out a laugh.

“Do I? I know just the place.”

--

The place was a little stand that was set up not far from your apartment, tucked away where most would miss it if you weren’t looking. It offered a range of things, from hot dishes like tteokbokki to cold foods like sandwiches, and a wide range of desserts. Mingyu took charge on what you both ordered, just agreeing to share whatever it was, before finding yourself sitting at a bench with the shared meal.

“How do you like it?” Mingyu asked after a few minutes of silence, and it took you a moment to finish your mouth full of tteokbokki, before answering.

“It’s amazing. I didn’t know this place was here,” you tell him, taking a sip of the water that he had also gotten you. “How did you find it?”

“Found it a while back one night wandering around. Couldn’t sleep, had too much on my mind, and I didn’t want to be home. So, I just started walking around. Then I came upon this place, its only open at this time of night for a few hours, so I come here often when I can’t sleep or go out.” He told you and you watch as he popped a piece of food into his mouth. “Was planning on taking both you and Hyung tonight, but I guess it ended up just being us.”

“I am honored for you to show me this place,” you tell him with a smile, your heart swelling at the fact he thought of not just Wonwoo but you too to share this little discovery of his. “I didn’t think you’d think of me when it comes to things like that.”

“I think about you all the time.” He confessed and your jaw dropped, his face suddenly serious. You could feel your body growing hot again, your mind wheeling at this.

“You think about me?” You ask, and Mingyu nodded.

“I think about all my friends all the time, and I consider you one of them.” He shrugs, and somehow this filled you with disappointment. You weren’t even sure why you felt that way, it was your fault that you read more into this then you should. Thinking his actions and the way he was looking at you was reading something more. Maybe it was from the drinking, even though you felt sober now. “We’re friends, right?”

You didn’t look at him like that, seeing him as a friend as much as Wonwoo’s, so there was no reason to feel rejected. But the way he was looking at you that night, the way he punched someone for you, picking you up so you both could run away from the scene, and the way his fingers laced between yours. That was on you for reading too much into it all, especially with someone like Mingyu.

“Of course, we’re friends.” You force out before standing, and he looks up at you confused. “I’m gonna head on. I can make it from here on my own. Wonwoo is likely on his way home probably expecting you back soon.”

“But I am walking you home.” There was more confusion in his voice as he stood.

“And I am letting you off the hook.” You hope that you didn’t give away you had hurt your own feelings, reaching out to give his bicep a squeeze. “I will be okay.”

“Hyung will kill me if I let you walk home alone. You know that’s the only reason he didn’t come looking for us.” Mingyu tossed what was left of the tteokbokki into the trash, before reaching for your hand, but you pulled it away. “I wanted to walk you home.”

“I’ll take the blame then. Tell him that I left you crying on the corner like a lost puppy.” You try and joke, but his face didn’t find it funny. The joke wasn’t funny, you knew it, but you didn’t think he would actually look like a big lost puppy now that you rejected his offer to walk you home after all.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, his hand again trying to grab yours and you let him this time. “I thought…”

“You thought what?” You asked back, and he let go with a sigh.

“Nothing. I’m not letting you walk alone.” He said flatly, pushing his fingers through his hair, and you found yourself wondering how it felt through your own. Instead, you went to protest again, but he held up his hand. “Just let me.”

“Mingyu…”

He responds by saying your name, before reaching out to turn your shoulders in the direction of your place. He didn’t say anything more than, “Let’s go.”

For someone who had just defended your honor over a pushy guy, he sure was being pushy himself. Except you still listened and the two of you started to walk in silence. You had to stop several times to adjust your heels, as you could already feel blisters starting to form. You were not expecting to be walking long distance in them, having taken a taxi to the club and intended to take one home too.

“Ow, Fuck. I’m sorry.” You mutter, stopping again to take off your heels, unable to take the discomfort and rather would walk barefoot. You needed to remember to put a pair of flats in your bag if you ever find yourself out again. Mingyu didn’t say anything, nor had he said anything since eating, he just crouched down in front of you. With his back facing you and you looked at him confused, “What are you doing?”

“Offering you a piggyback ride.” He says it like it was the obvious, looking over his shoulder, “Your feet hurt, and you shouldn’t be walking barefoot. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

This time, you didn’t argue with him or refuse, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck, hopping up as he stood. For a moment, he nearly lost his balance and fell forward but caught himself in time on a street pole. Once balanced, he hoisted you up further so your legs could wrap around his waist; with his hands holding onto your thighs for extra support. You mumble your thanks, and he only hummed his response.

Silence fell back over you both, and you were feeling like he was upset with you.

“I’m sorry.” You finally spoke when he was two blocks from your place, your voice almost coming out as a whisper.

“For what?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at you, genuine confusion in his own tone.

“I am not sure, I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Come on, Noona, I can never be mad at you.” He let out a small chuckle, squeezing one of your thighs gently. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than just a sweet gesture, but you couldn’t ignore the small jolt through your system when he did that. “What makes you think I am mad at you?”

“You haven’t spoken to me since that food stand.” You tell him and he gives you a glance.

“I think it’s my turn to apologize.” He answers with a sigh, finally turning onto your street.

“For what?”

“Assuming.”

“Assuming what?”

Mingyu didn’t respond, instead he just continued to your apartment, changing the subject in the process. You let him, while making a mental note that you were going to ask him again once back at your apartment. Filling the quiet late night air with senseless chatter, you lean your head against his shoulder as he insists on carrying you up to your floor.

He didn’t let you down until you both were at your door. He stood there as you turned to put in your code when you stopped. Normally, all you would be able to think about was the comfort of your bed, blankets and books waiting for you, but instead you couldn’t stop thinking about what he meant by ‘assuming’.

Turning to face him, you see he’s watching you again, this time with a sad look in his eyes, and you could tell he was forcing a smile.

“Mingyu, what did you mean by assuming?” You ask and he looked away from you. “What did you assume?”

“It’s nothing, really. I don’t want to make anything awkward or anything. Especially since you are Wonwoo’s friend, and you two had a thing,” Mingyu started to rub the back of his neck nervously, and you blinked. You and Wonwoo only ever slept together once, and it was when he went with you to your dad’s wedding. It was a spur of a moment thing that didn’t move past that weekend, and you would hardly call that anything between the two of you.

“There wasn’t nor is there a thing between me and Wonwoo. We’re friends.” You tell him flatly. “Not telling me makes it even more awkward. Just tell me. What did you assume?”

He didn’t respond and you sighed.

“Are you really…”

“That you liked me too.” Mingyu pushed the words out before he could stop them, his skin turning a shade of red as he looks away. You didn’t know how to respond. “That there was a chance in hell that you noticed me as something more than just Wonwoo’s roommate, but I was wrong. Now I ruined…”

You stopped him mid-sentence by grabbing his shirt to pull him into a kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to meet his lips. It was brief, you pulling back but didn’t let go of his shirt. Mingyu stared at you in shock for a moment before one arm wrapped around your waist and the other grasping you gently by the throat, his lips meeting yours again. His tongue eagerly requesting entrance.

Letting go of his shirt, you slid your arms up his chest, feeling the hard muscles under the fabric to wrap around his neck. Your tongues moving together in a fever, bodies clinging to each other.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” You tell him, finally breaking away, and hitting the numbers on your keypad. Opening the door, you looked back to him, “Do you want to come in?”

“Fuck yes.” He said without hesitation, swooping you into his arms as you enter your apartment. His mouth devouring yours in a passionate kiss. Your bag falling to the ground, as the door closed behind the two of you. Breaking away long enough, Mingyu kicked his boots off, and started to unbutton his shirt.

Shrugging off the expensive material, Mingyu was left in his jeans and vest top, and you were still in your dress. It didn’t take long before you were attached again, Mingyu’s hands moving down your back and over your backside. A squeal left your mouth when he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist while your hands tangled in his hair.

“Bedroom or couch?” He asks near breathless, moving from your mouth to your jaw and down the column of your neck. Each kiss leaving imaginary impressions over your soft skin, feeling your cunt grow wet with each nip of his teeth.

“Bedroom.” You gasp out when his canines scraped over your collarbone, his hands gripping and kneading at your ass before his lips reclaimed yours. When he didn’t move, having never really been inside your apartment before, you broke from the kiss enough to tell him, “To the right. The open door with a bed.”

“I would hope it’s a bed.” Mingyu laughed and you rolled your eyes. “It could be just a stack of books.”

“Just kiss me, smartass,” You whisper, and he didn’t hesitate to oblige.

It was then a mess of kisses, tongues tangling, nipping at each other’s skin, and a side of smart-ass comments between the both of you before you finally made it to the bed. Mingyu had been in the process of threatening to throw you onto it, but instead of doing that the younger man laid you down gently before removing himself from your hold on him.

Taking a step back, Mingyu watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. His eyes stayed on your face for the longest moment, taking in the way your lips were swollen from his kiss, your eyes glazed over and filled with desire before moving down your body. He took in the way the straps of your dress were now off your shoulders and falling over your arms, the little bit of cleavage you had originally been sporting was more prominent.

The way you were already near panting made him smile proudly because he got you that way by just kissing you. You could see the glint in his eyes that he intends to make you even more of a needy mess before the night was over. When his gaze moved further down, he licked his lips seeing that the way your dress was bunched up to show off your thighs. The black dress had stopped right before your underwear was exposed, which were now feeling soaked from your arousal.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening.” Mingyu was talking really to himself more than he was talking to you, pulling his vest top off his body to reveal his muscular frame. Even if you had seen him shirtless plenty of time before, man was allergic to them when he was home, the sight before you just made your mouth water. “This can’t honestly be real right now.”

Your swollen bottom lip found its way between your teeth, adjusting so you could reach for the hem of your skirt. Pulling it up a little more so he only had only a glimpse of your covered cunt. His eyes only seemed to widen as he watches you, appearing to be surprised by your bold move. That was the thing about you though, was just because you were shy around others and preferred the company of books, you were not at all shy in bed.

“Get over here,” You tell him, beckoning him to join you on the bed, which he did without hesitation. Pouncing on top of you, with a playful umph, catching himself with his arms before he could ‘crush’ you. You giggle, grasping his face to pull him into a kiss.

Your hands move down his neck to his shoulders, feeling the muscles move under his skin, as well as the small shiver he had when you had started to trace the nape of his neck. His mouth was hot against yours, tongue desperate to make claim, one of his own hands tracing your collarbone.

It would dip every so often over your chest, barely brushing the top of your breasts then back up. His still jean covered hips slotted between your thighs, the rough material of his jeans grinding against your heat. You wanted more, you wanted his jeans off, you wanted your dress off, you wanted him to touch you until there was impressions of his touch in your skin. Visible or not. You just wanted Mingyu to make you his; even if it’s just for the night.

Those soft lips of his moved from your own to trail down your jaw line and down the column of your neck. His hand finally moving passed the top of your breasts and now moving down your side, tracing designs into the fabric and tickling you at some points. He didn’t make any further moves then at, mouth staying around your neck, collarbones, and shoulder like his hand originally was.

You wanted more.

Pushing him back, there was no resistance aside from a small whine that left his lips as he sits back onto his heels; not wanting to stop so quick. You sit up too, giving him a smile which he looked almost confused over, likely wondering what stopped you. The dress you decided to wear was a simple black strapped dress. It fit your frame in a flattering way, hugging your body just right to show off the parts of you that were the most flattering and hid away parts you were insecure about.

Reaching your arms behind you, trying to get the zipper down in the least awkward way possible, and Mingyu’s confusion quickly turned into amusement. You attempted to give him a dirty look, but couldn’t stop the giggle leaving your lips, before he leaned forward to kiss you once more.

The dress dropped down to pool around your hips, then quickly discarded off to the side of your bed. The strapless bra you had worn following quickly after, leaving you in nothing but a pair of pink and purple designed hipsters.

The younger man leaned back slightly so he could take in your near naked body and did a deep inhale. Brushing his thumbs over the skin under the curve of your breast, he stayed there, admiring the way your breast fell naturally, with your nipples at hard peaks. Caused from a mixture of the cool bedroom air and your body hot from his touch. Mingyu was holding back.

“I think we are a little past being shy. You can touch me all you want.” You tell him softly, taking one of his hands to guide slowly up to one of your breasts. Mingyu didn’t resist and let you guide him to where you wanted him, watching as a soft moan left your lips when a finger touched the sensitive buds. “Please, Mingyu…”

It was like a light bulb went off in Mingyu’s brain, his hands moving on their own as did his mouth returning to your neck. His hands massaged your breasts, gently pinching your nipples between his fingers, and mouth sucking reminders of him into your flesh. Something you normally would not stand for, since you did not like the pain that came with being marked up, but with him you let him.

You wanted him to leave impressions of him over your body, visible or not, wanting to remember the feeling like he was actually there. Hours before you couldn’t imagine being in this situation, trying not to give Mingyu a second thought since he didn’t give you much either, or at least you thought he did. Always thinking he saw you as Wonwoo’s weird friend who goes over to their house just to read while Wonwoo played games in silence. The weird friend that was quiet and off in her own world at times, preferring the solace of a book and a good blanket to be out in the world with others.

Except here you both were, Mingyu laying you onto your back once more, his mouth offering his hand help with your breasts. Your gasped when the flat of his tongue pressed against a nipple, arching your back to experience this feeling again, and your hands moving wherever you could reach.

Tangling it through his soft locks, tracing his jawline to his shoulders, and nails scratching lightly over his skin so as to not leave marks… yet. He repeated the movement, gently pinching at the other, unable to hold back the groan or the way he grounded into you. Frustrated by the barriers keeping you from connecting completely. But he wasn’t in a rush, and he had hoped you weren’t either.

He made sure that he gave both breasts equal attention, leaving bites and marks all over, before starting the descent down. Unlocking your legs that you had unconsciously started to wrap around his waist in the process. Kneading at your thighs as he pushed them further apart than just letting them fall on their own.

“Can I?” You heard him ask after leaving trails of saliva, marks, and praises over your stomach. His chin resting gently at the hem of your underwear, looking up to you with pleading eyes. His once neatly styled hair a tangled mess over his brow, and a hopeful smile playing over his handsome face. “Please?”

“Normally I’m the one saying ‘please’.” You tease as he plants soft kisses over your abdomen.

“Oh, you will be still,” He answered, his teeth scraping over your skin, catching the elastic of your underwear between them. Still waiting for your answer.

“Who am I to tell you no?” At this his eyes got big, your underwear still in his mouth as he stares up at you. “You can do whatever you want, as long as you do not snap me with my own underwear.”

Mingyu went to retort lifting his head up to get a better look at you, and, in the process, letting go and doing exactly that. You hissed before sitting up to slap his arm, while he started laughing, giving you a sympathetic but amused smile.

“Mingyu!” You whine, rubbing the spot where the elastic hit, trying to not laugh yourself as he crawls back over your body. His smile wide and dazzling, and you felt like you were about to melt into the bed. That smile and the way his laugh was so sweet sounding, and it did so much to you. Physically and mentally. Bringing a burst of joy through you.

You just want to keep hearing it day after day.

“Sorry,” There was still laughter in his voice before he captures your lips into an apologetic kiss. Pulling back, he gave you his best puppy dog eyes, “Can I still do whatever I want please? I didn’t mean to.”

“I think I can get used to you saying ‘please’,” You answer, and your lips attach to each other once more, easily letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Going back to claiming yours and earning a soft moan, laying you back down onto your back.

Your underwear were then gone, and before you could blink, Mingyu had settled himself back between your legs. Running his tongue over your inner thighs, leaving stripes of saliva in their wakes. Every so often he would place soft kisses, even nipping at your flesh playfully just to earn little yelps and whimpers from you. He purposely avoided your dripping cunt with his mouth, only stopping to admire it as his fingers dipped between your folds.

Opening you to let you feel his breath before returning his teasing your thighs, making sure even the most inner corners where your legs met your body receive attention. By the time he finally dipped his tongue into your cunt, there was not a part of your thighs and hips that weren’t covered in his saliva or peppered with bites.

You were too lost in Mingyu to even care, but you knew you were going to have to have a talk with him over it later. Make sure he didn’t go overboard next time… if there was a next time.

The sound that left you at the way his tongue teased, and his mouth sucked gently at your clit was a new one. It sounded foreign, desperate, and full of need. Your whole body shaking, even with Mingyu using one of his arms to hold down your hips from grinding up, while his other kept your thighs open. You were desperately trying to close them on his head, your first release rapidly approaching with each tongue flick and plunge of his fingers into you with a tantalizing pace. Each lick was followed by praise, speaking his thoughts out loud with how good you tasted. How every part of you was beautiful and he couldn’t get enough.

“I want to taste you all the time,” He groaned out at one point, right after he ran the flat of his tongue over your sensitive clit.

Your own hands were all over, in your hair, covering your mouth to muffle a near scream when he hit a particular spot, teasing at your own breast, before finding their way through his locks again. With the tightening of your grip, it seemed to fuel the man between your legs, earning another eager groan from him.

“Mingyu…” You barely got his name out, unable to warn him when the coil inside snapped and you saw stars. His name falling from your lips with a mixture of curses, your legs trying to once close in on his head.

He didn’t seem to have a problem keeping your legs from closing in, his mouth clasping over your clit. Trying to draw another orgasm from you quickly after that one, your whole body jerking back. This makes him pull away to look at you, his face glistening with your juices, while he continued to languidly tease you with his fingers. Stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

His hard cock that was still tucked inside his jeans.

“Too much?” He asked, and you started to gently tug him up from his place between your legs. You wanted to know how you tasted on his tongue, you wanted to undo his jeans to free him, feel him in your hands. To feel him inside you.

“Your mouth will be the death of me,” You answer, his fingers suddenly no longer in you as he allowed you to pull him up. Allowing you that taste you wanted, and your statement stood even truer. How did you get so weak over him in one night when you had known him for as long as he has been Wonwoo’s roommate.

“I can say the same about yours’.” His words were muffled, not bothering the separate long enough to form clear sentences. The hands that were once laced through his hair had made quick movements to travel down his body, which was very hard to not stop to admire each part of him, to his jeans. “You also make the sexiest sounds. Don’t cover your mouth, I like hearing them.”

“You may, but my neighbors don’t.” You tell him, undoing his jeans as you tell him this, this time denying him another kiss. This time it was him who was whining, not liking that you wouldn’t kiss him again, trying to chase your lips. “Take your jeans off and lay on your back.”

Mingyu didn’t need to be told twice, already scrambling off the bed to finish taking off his jeans. Leaving him a pair of form fitting black briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination either. His cock straining against the materials, thick and heavy, and the head peeking through the top when he adjusted himself. You felt yourself salivating at the sight, Mingyu standing next to your bed in nothing but his underwear. His gorgeous, tanned body on display, shadowed by the fairy lights you had strung across your ceiling, with only the thinnest of fabrics separating you from his full glory.

A sight you wanted to burn into your memory.

Once back on the bed, you couldn’t help but laugh at his excited expression on his face; one of the widest smiles you had ever seen on him. Propping himself up onto his elbows to look up at you, and this was an even better sight for you.

“What’s next?” He asks his voice trying not to give away what his face already did, that he was eager to see what you had to offer him.

“What makes you think there is going to be something next?” You ask him, moving so you were straddling him, pressing your soaked and well eaten cunt against his covered cock. His saliva and your juices soaking through the fabric. “I could be kicking you out right now.”

“Right, because you’ll have me to take my pants off, then sit on me naked just to tell me to go.” You couldn’t stop the smile gracing your lips at his response, liking that he was keeping up with your mouth. Sitting up, Mingyu’s hands slid over your hips to grasp your ass, and your own slipped back through his hair. Unable to get enough of the soft locks. Pressing soft kisses over your chest, he looked up at you with a pouty look. “You gonna make me leave?”

“Not a chance in hell,” You moan out as his mouth clasped over a nipple, and grinding your hips down into his.

“Good.”

His mouth was all over your breasts again before you pushed him back onto the bed. It was your turn to kiss, bite, and suck at his skin. Your own hands moving over his body, getting to know the way his muscles felt, teasing at the hem of his briefs. Mimicking what he was doing to you. Except you didn’t snap him with his briefs, even if you were tempted to.

“Can I? Please?” You ask, in such a teasing tone, and he started laughing,

“Who am I to tell you no?” He asks back, and you playfully slapped his stomach. His briefs were gone with a lift of his hips, freeing his cock from the confines. You watched as the hard length slapped against his stomach. How was he gorgeous right down to his cock? “Like what you see?”

You hadn’t realized that you were staring at it with wide eyes until you looked up toward him, only to see him with his hands laced behind his head. His eyebrow arching in a smug manner, and an equally smug smirk playing over his lips. Proud of the reaction he had pulled from you.

“Shut up,” You tell him, your hand finally reaching out to grasp his cock. Feeling it for the first time in your hands, and a moan left his lips at your touch. You were quiet for a moment, pumping him slowly a time or two, before dropping your head down.

Another moan left his lips at the feel of your tongue over the tip, taking in the bits of precum that was leaking from it into your mouth. Flashing your eyes up to gauge his reactions, this time swirling your tongue around the head then slipping it through your lips. A gasp left his lips, with one hand reaching to grab the wooden headboard while the other reached out to stroke the back of your head.

You were quick to build a pace, taking him as much as you could into your mouth and down your throat while your hand stroked the rest. You took in each sound or face he made, figuring out how he liked being blown, adjusting your pace and rhythm accordingly to that. Finding he liked it when you used your tongue to tease the thick vein up his cock, or how he particularly liked the small gagging sound you made when you tried to take more down your throat. Making him a loud moaning mess on your bed, strings of curses, praises, and confessions leaving his lips while he had a gentle but firm hold on your hair.

“Fuck, this is better than I ever imagined… your mouth looks so pretty over my cock… god, baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Were the words falling from his mouth, and they only fueled you. Your mouth working him to earn more from him, “Please don’t let this be just tonight… please…”

You were too busy with your mouth, or you would have responded with a tease. Like ‘we will have to see’ or ‘You would like that wouldn’t you.’ Not ready to admit that, just by the way he kissed you and teased you that you wanted to keep going. He wasn’t inside you yet, and you were already finding yourself growing addicted to him.

When you finally came up for air, it came with a soft pop and a string of saliva trailing from your lips to the tip of his coated cock. Casting your gaze up at Mingyu’s face, you could see he looked fucked out already, his eyes heavy looking at you. His breathing coming out in pants, his mouth falling slightly open and sweat already covering his skin, making his hair cling to his face.

“In the drawer next to you, there is a box of condoms.” You tell him, pointing to the nightstand. He was within reach of it compared to you, so he turned his head to where you were directing him. Pulling the drawer out and grabbing the box from inside.

“Condoms on hand?” He asks, finding the box new and unopen. Like it was hard to believe that you kept them on hand just in case. You were single not a nun.

“Did you have one with you?” You shoot back, and his ears started to turn red.

“I was gonna get some.” He retorted, opening the box to pull one of the foil wrappers out. Tossing the box back into drawer and closed it. “I just didn’t want to seem too eager, or have you think I was expecting anything. And then the thought kinda slipped after everything.”

“Well, I saved you some money.”

You watch as he tears open the wrapper and slip the condom over his hard length. His bottom lip between his teeth. “Now time for that sexy question. How do you want to do this?”

“Me on top.” You tell him. Once the condom was secure, you tossed your leg over him to straddle him once more. His hands catching your hips, so you were hovering over him. His eyes dropped down to where you were so close to connecting with him. His cock twitching just under you, ready for you to take him completely.

You went to ask if there was something wrong, but the words were lost when one of the hands holding your hips moved to slip two fingers between your slit. A low moan left your lips, when he did a slow circle around your clit before dipping into you. Coating his fingers with your arousal and making sure once more that you were ready for him.

You were more than ready.

Slipping his hand away from you, Mingyu then grasped his cock. Stroking and coating it with your slick on his fingers before positioning right at your entrance. You brace yourself with your hands on his chest as you lower yourself, the head of his cock pushing into you. The stretch made your jaw drop, even with being as ready as you were, but it felt so good. Taking your time to ease down, making sure you feel every inch of him for the first time, a whimper leaving your lips.

Mingyu’s eyes kept flashing from your face and to your cunt, with perfect view of his cock sliding into you. Unsure which to watch more. Another string of curses and praises leaving his lips, both hands now resting back onto your hips; his fingers kneading at your skin. Your name falling from his lips in a way that you wanted to hear over and over.

Once your hips settled against his, filling you completely with his cock, you stayed there to adjust. Your thighs shaking from the coil already starting tighten again, but you weren’t ready to let go yet. Knowing once you cum from this position you will be absolutely useless on top.

“You are so tight…” He grunted out, using his hands to encourage you to move, needing you to move. “So perfect…”

Your movements first were slow, still getting used to the way his cock fit in you, trying to not cry out at the way it slid against your walls. You could tell by the way his hands were moving over your hips, gripping at them before moving over your ass, he was growing impatient by the pace. He was doing everything he could though to hold back his eagerness, to not thrust himself up into you, and take complete control.

The sounds of both your breathing and moans started to fill the room and flood out of the bedroom door into the dark empty apartment. Mixing with the sounds of your ass hitting his legs as you started to bounce onto his cock. Mingyu sat up again as you moved, his mouth capturing yours in mind numbing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth to tangle with yours.

Dropping back onto the bed, Mingyu grasped at your hips to hold you still and started thrusting upwards. Causing the moans and whimpers into full cries and curses.

“Fucking hell! Oh my fuck. Mingyu..” You yelped, nails dragging over his chest. His eyes stayed on you, flicking from the way your breast bounced to the pleasure falling over your face. “Your cock… your cock feels so fucking good.”

He was wearing his own look of pleasure mixed with the proud feeling of making you feel this way. You were so lost in his thrusts, your head falling back, that you didn’t see the look of adoration and enjoyment of hearing his name on your lips. You were missing him falling so madly in love with you, overtaken by the pleasure he was giving you.

Your second release was rapidly approaching, the coil inside so tight that it made you close to the bring of madness. The sudden sensation of his thumb over your clit took you by surprise, not sure when he moved his hand to encourage your orgasm forward. To get you fall apart on top of him and sing his name.

“You want to come, don’t you?” He asked, his voice coming out husky and thick, his thumb not letting up on the quick movements, pushing you even closer to the edge. You couldn’t speak, becoming a whimpering mess with your hips messily trying to keep a rhythm with him. “Tell me, baby, tell me how much you want to cum on my cock.”

“I want.. I want to cum so bad… your cock feels so.. fucking.. good.” You cried out, answering him how he wants you to. You weren’t sure but it felt like his thrusts were harder, working in perfect sync with his thumb. There was no way you weren’t seeing stars, and you felt something snap inside you.

You mewled as you felt yourself cumming around his cock. Squeezing down around his condom covered length, and spasming as he kept up his movements. Though with difficulty since you were squeezing and sucking him in.

“You’re made for me. Everything about you…” Mingyu confessed out, his head dropping back as your name and several praises to God fell from his lips. “Fitting so perfectly on my cock. Taking me so well.”

You couldn’t get proper words out, incoherent, but in your head they sounded like words. Reaching out your hand against his stomach to attempt to center yourself, as well as get him to slow down some. Instead, Mingyu rolled you onto your back, bracing his weight on his arms as he looks down at your fucked out face.

“You okay?” He asks softly, planting soft kisses over your face, not making any further movements to keep going. Your legs were still shaking, but the fog in your mind started to clear and you could only grab at his hair to move those kisses to your lips.

“Don’t stop.” You beg out, wanting him to keep going. You could feel yourself growing sensitive, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted him to cum too.

“I mean, I didn’t really plan to unless you told me to, but that wasn’t my question.” He pulls back so he was hovering over you. “That was a hell of an orgasm.”

“Pretty intense, but I think you can do better.”

“Did you just challenge me?” He asked with an incredulous look on his face, before a laugh left his lips.

“Not challenging, more like, motivating.” You moan out when you could feel the head of his cock pushing back into your swollen entrance, your eyes rolling as his arms hooked both your ankles.

“Challenge accepted.” He told you, and filled you back up completely with his cock, swallowing the loud moan that left you. He didn’t move at first, pulling back and whispering against your lips. “Hold on tight.”

Swallowing more moans, Mingyu pulled his hips back before snapping them forward. Thrusting into you with a purpose, to win this challenge you set for him. The head of his cock brushing over an extra sensitive part when he would adjust his thrusts just right, making your eyes roll and your nails rake down his back. Not caring if there was marks left as you reached his ass.

Grabbing at the strong muscles, your hands were everywhere, while your mouth would take turns kissing and biting your memory into his skin to kissing his red, swollen and well kissed lips. You couldn’t get enough of him, you couldn’t get enough of him being inside you. You wanted Mingyu over and over.

“Fuck, I can’t hold out much longer.” Mingyu grunted, his voice sounding strained, trying to not falter in his rhythm. Not wanting to start to become sloppy and cum yet. You still needed to cum one more time. “Are you close?”

“Almost…” You manage to whimper out, trying to move your hips to meet his, but the angle he had you in made it impossible to move your lower half. You were still sensitive from your orgasm on top, and with how good his cock was fucking you into the mattress, it was easy for him to get your third release to begin to build.

Mingyu’s hand slipped between you both, finding your clit once more to start circling the sensitive bud. His finger starting to move quick movements, but you could tell he struggling to hold out. His brow knitted in serious concentration, working hard to get you to another release, but his hips started to sputter. Switching positions to sit back onto his knees gave him a moment of reprieve, before he continued to thrust into your cunt.

His eyes kept flashing up from where his finger circled your clit and his cock disappeared into you to your face. Your eyes in a slight roll, mouth open now with just little whimpers escaping. You were barely holding on and wanting so desperately to let go.

“Fuck…” Mingyu grunted, his hips stuttering unable to hold back his own release any longer. His fingers started to fumble at your clit, but you were quick to push his hands away and take over to help him out. And with a few precise movements, you were following right behind him.

Mingyu filled the condom full of white stripes, dropping his upper body back over yours, catching himself with his arm. His mouth capturing yours, the arms that were bracing his fall now wrapping around your body, and you let him deepen it with no resistance.

The kiss was slow, languidly, with your tongues lazily tangling. After a long minute, Mingyu pulled back from the kiss, but wouldn’t detangle himself from you, just to take you in. Brushing your sweat soaked hair from your forehead.

“I guess I failed.” He murmured, there was a small pout in his voice, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

“That’s okay, because…” You mimicked his movement, pushing his own sweat soaked hair, “you have another chance.”

Mingyu then pulled you into a mind numbing kiss, and you should have known sooner, but it was enough to seal one thing.

You didn’t want him leaving the next morning, or any other morning after.

--

“What you thinking about?” You ask, tracing imaginary designs into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. You both were now tangled under the sheets of your bed after a third time in short span, his arms around you. Seeming like he was refusing to let you go, but he also grew quiet after near ten minutes of solid chatter. Instead, he just found a spot on your wall to stare at. It was a framed photo of you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and a friend of yours from college.

Your arms were around Wonwoo’s waist, as his was over Mingyu’s shoulders. The friend was crouched in front of the three, and all four of you were smiling wide. You don’t remember much about that night, after the third bar, you ended up spending the night being taken care of by a drunk Mingyu and a very tired Wonwoo. Your friend had disappeared earlier that night, ditching you three for someone she met at one of the bars.

Even though she was originally there to be ‘introduced’ to Mingyu, after seeing him in a post of Wonwoo’s, and she had bugged you for weeks to meet him. It was more embarrassing for you then it was for him, you remembered, since you thought it was a good idea to meet at a bar. You never set anyone up before, so you had no idea what you were doing, and both men referred it as one of your greatest fails; though they did it in a sweet teasing tone. Especially when it was such an out of character action of you.

“You remember that night?” He asked, and you blinked before letting out an embarrassing chuckle.

“Bits and pieces. I like the photo, but I don’t like to remember the night at all.” You answer, adjusting yourself to be looking up toward him. “One of my greatest fails. Never again am I setting you up with anyone.”

“Never?” He asks, tearing his gaze from the photo to you, with an eyebrow quirked. “Why is that?”

“You saw what happened last time. I should have just sent you two to dinner, instead of thinking it’s a great idea to go out drinking with all four of us. What was I thinking? And why did you two go with it?”

“I don’t know, seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides I think it worked out for the better, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” With a soft smile, you nodded gently before leaning in to catch his lips. “I think it did.”

After a small make out session, Mingyu was the one to break away, but when you thought he was going to pull you closer instead untangled himself. Sitting up, he started looking for his briefs to slip on.

“I should probably get going. Hyung probably is waiting up for me.” Mingyu said with a sigh, and you sat up confused.

“You don’t have to go. Just text him and tell him where you’re at. From the way he ended the phone call earlier, it seems like he knew what was going to happen.” You reach for him, but Mingyu stood before you could touch his arm. “It’s nearly four in the morning anyways, might as well stay and get some sleep.”

“It’s exactly because it’s near four in the morning that I should go.” He answers with a sigh, and you were starting to feel confused. Just nearly ten minutes earlier he was saying he didn’t want to leave your bed, and you found you wanted the same. “I got work anyways in a few hours.”

“You literally yelled last night as soon as me and Wonwoo walked into the club that you didn’t have to work so you were getting fucked up,” He must not have expected you to remember that or even say anything. When he looked at you, your face was suddenly became cold. “Maybe come up with a better excuse to leave. Or tell me what this was instead of filling the air with bittersweet lies or better yet not fucking have sex me.”

He said your name, but you were already wrapping yourself in your sheet to get up and find clothes to put on. Trying to process that he was actually doing this to his best friend’s friend, one of his closest friends at that, while simultaneously wanted to cry. You felt incredibly stupid.

“Just go,” You tell him, flinching away when he went to reach for you and say more. To apologize, but you weren’t going to have it as you grabbed his top to throw at him, only to find he was now in his jeans.

“That came out wrong. I wasn’t…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, so you don’t have to worry about Wonwoo finding out that you’re an asshole… Just go.” There was a look on his face like he was going to say more, but stopped, not wanting to fight with you any further. Mingyu left with a soft apology, and you proceeded to go to the bathroom to shower. Sucking back all tears that was wanting to fall, wanting to forget that you fell for his sweet words.

--

“Didn’t think you were coming home,” Wonwoo’s voice from the couch spoke up when Mingyu slipped inside. Clearly trying to be quiet, but the older man was still awake, playing on their shared PlayStation. “Figured you would be staying over with her.”

“Well you figured wrong.” Mingyu responded, before making his way to his room.

“You’re going to have to push Soonyoung over. I ended up drawing the short stick on getting him home, but didn’t feel like paying the extra fare to get back to the apartment. So, he’s passed out in your bed. You should really learn to read your texts.” Wonwoo spoke up and Mingyu stopped at his door before letting out another sigh. “Did she kick you out or something?”

“Or something.” Mingyu responded with a sigh before hearing the game paused. “Well both.”

“Just because you’re my best friend, doesn’t mean I am above kicking your ass.” Wonwoo was calm with his words, but the meaning behind them rang clear. You had been friends with him longer than the younger man, so he was quite protective over you.

“I fucked up.” Mingyu whined out suddenly, turning toward him. “I really fucked up.”

“Okay, and how did you fuck up?” The eerily calm voice coming from the older man was not comforting at all, but Mingyu still made his way to the couch and sat down.

“I… I panicked.”

“Panicked? You panicked? How?” Mingyu hated how calm his best friend was as he drops his head in his hands. Not seeing that Wonwoo was already searching for his phone. Likely to text you.

“It was going great. More than great… She was putty in my hands, I was putty in hers. Then… I was looking at this photo on her wall. It was the three of us, and some girl who was she was trying to introduce me to.” Dropping his hands he stood and started to pace. “We were talking about that night and started to make out some.”

“And how did you fuck this up?”

“I started to think of your ass.” Mingyu threw his hands up, and Wonwoo raised a brow behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“I thought you were interested in her ass, not mine. I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

“Shut up…” Mingyu pouted and Wonwoo only couldn’t help but chuckle. “This is serious.”

“Okay, okay. How did thinking of me caused you to be here and not over there finally getting ‘the girl’ like you wanted?” The glasses wielded man turned back to the tv to save his game and switch off the console. “You do know we are nothing more than friends.”

“What about that weekend you went with her to her dad’s wedding?”

“What about it?” Wonwoo wasn’t sure where his best friend was going with this. “You didn’t fuck this because of that did you?”

“Are you sure there was nothing between you guys?” Mingyu stopped his pacing to look at him as he asks this. “Are you sure there is no residual feelings? That you’re actually helping me cause I am hopeless when it comes to her?”

“You’re hopeless no matter what.” Wonwoo said flatly. “And if there was, do you really think I would have helped you get with her?”

“I don’t know, Hyung. I’m hopeless.” Mingyu dropped back down onto the couch. “I told her I had to get home cause you were waiting for me, and that I had work in a few hours.”

“You told both of us that you didn’t have to work, and I knew the moment she told me that you were walking her home what was going to happen.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“The passed out drunk in your room.”

There was silence for the longest minute before Wonwoo’s phone went off indicating he had gotten a text. Reading it, he sighed and shook his head, responding to the message.

“I really like her Hyung,” Mingyu spoke quietly, looking down at the coffee table before him.

“I know.” The older man responded, his fingers moving quickly over the screen. “So what are you going to do to make this right?”

“Die?”

“You’ve been hanging around me too much.” This made both men laugh, even if it was a meek one on Mingyu’s part.

“I don’t think there is anything I can do.”

“No there is.” Wonwoo’s attention was back to his phone. “Or at least you have to find a way to make it right.”

“How?”

“I got her out tonight, it was up to you to handle the rest. Including fixing this.” Wonwoo stood, slipping his phone in the pocket of his sweats, but stopped when he saw the look on Mingyu’s face. Dejected. “I will try and talk to her, but I can’t promise anything though. Except an ass kicking if you ruined my friendship with her.”

“Got it, Hyung. Goodnight,” He gave Wonwoo a weak smile, but then furrowed his brows. “Wait, am I to sleep with Soonyoung-hyung?”

“You aren’t sleeping with me, so it’s either that or you sleep out here.” Wonwoo shrugged and made his way toward his room. “Be happy I ain’t kicking your ass right now.”

“I know I deserve it, but so violent.”

--

Mingyu decided to stay on the couch, not wanting to go in the room with a passed out Soonyoung, and was banished from Wonwoo’s bed, but he wasn’t able to sleep a single wink. His mind was playing over and over what happened.

One minute, he was on top of the world with you, the girl he was pining over for a while now, in his arms and the next he’s lying to you about needing to leave. The exact opposite of what he was wanting to do, because he didn’t want to leave you. He never wanted to leave your side, because he was exactly where he should be. With you.

The feelings started to sprout nearly a year previous, coming home one night from work to find you in the kitchen cooking for you and Wonwoo. You had moved around their little kitchen like it was your own, having cooked several times for your friend and him in the past, so it was a sight he was used to seeing. Except there was something different that night.

You had made sure to make an extra helping for him, that way he didn’t have to cook dinner. He remembered setting his large water jug and duffle bag on the counter, staring as you moved not noticing him right away, until he cleared his throat. When your eyes turned to him, they grew wide before you blinked that way and started to smile at him. Something he has seen many times before, your smile was always friendly toward him if not shy.

He always thought it was cute.

But that night, something about it was different. The gym he worked at had overbooked him, so he ended up having to eat between appointments and barely was able to do that. He wasn’t sure what he did to upset the receptionist who made the appointments, but she had him running ragged by the end of the day. So much so, that he opted to go home instead of work out like he usually did.

All he wanted was grab a beer from the fridge and find the easiest thing to make before vegging on the couch and playing some video games or even watch a movie or two before going to bed. He knew that Wonwoo had plans to hang with you, and wouldn’t have bugged him unless Mingyu wanted, so his plan was perfect.

What he didn’t expect was seeing you, and it suddenly lifted his shitty mood as you greeted him and let him know you had made extras. He felt like he was coming home to you, not a quiet apartment with Wonwoo in his room. It felt good, it felt natural, he didn’t know where these feelings came from.

It only grew from there, this ‘crush’ started to become deeper, and soon he looked forward to seeing you whenever you were over to hang out with Wonwoo. You sitting either on his bed or in the corner of their couch reading while his roommate would sit and play video games. Mingyu wanted you to do that with him too, or even better, you curled up in his arms while he watched movies, and you read.

The mistake he had made was that he didn’t tell anyone about this crush, not even Wonwoo. That was until he drunkenly confessed to all the guys after you and him went to your dad’s wedding, only to find out that it was already suspected by the ones closest to him. Well, except Wonwoo until he came home from that weekend and Mingyu gave him the cold shoulder, having sense something happened between you two.

After Wonwoo dispelled any doubts that you two were an item, or ever would be, Mingyu had taken it as a sign to see if you might be interested as well. You were comfortable enough with him, able to talk with him and joke with him enough, but you also would get quiet and awkward around him too. It was like you sensed his interest but would shy away from it.  

That night ended up being a fluke, you coming out. He hadn’t expected it, Wonwoo didn’t tell him you were going to be there. His best friend finally gave him an in, and he fucked it up.

After a few hours of just tossing and turning, Mingyu couldn’t keep trying to sleep. Instead, he got up, to grab his hoodie and throw on shoes, and left the apartment. Sending Wonwoo a text that he was going out, and that if Soonyoung pukes on his things both older men were paying for the cleaning and replacing items.

Getting into his car, Mingyu just put it into drive, and started for your apartment. Needing to talk to you sooner than later. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got to your place, but he knew that he needed to talk with you. There was no way he was going to screw this up if there was a chance in hell.

--

“Auntie, what makes you think I am going to get through to him? He probably already had her on the side when he married Yuji,” You say into the phone as you lock up your apartment, a bag of laundry at your feet. Rolling your eyes as you grabbed your laundry bag, you listened to your aunt droned on about your dad’s latest discretions, and trying to get you involved. “She should have known anyways, she was the other woman to begin with.”

You start down the stairs when you stop dead, seeing Mingyu stopping halfway up the stairs. Both staring at each other with wide eyes. He was one of the last people you wanted to see, but he was the perfect excuse to get off the phone with your aunt.

“Auntie, let me call you later.” You didn’t give your aunt a chance to respond when you hit the hang up button. Slipping your phone in your jeans pocket, you started down the stairs to walk past him. When you heard your name leave his lips, you stopped again but didn’t look at him. Just continued to stare ahead.

“Where you going?” Mingyu asked nervously, and you lift your laundry bag up. “Can I go with you?”

This is when you look at him, and take him in. He was in a pair of dark blue sweats and a white T-shirt, and a hoodie on. From the dark circles under his eyes and his tousled hair, he hadn’t been asleep yet. You barely got any sleep yourself, waking up every thirty minutes to an hour until finally gave up on sleep all together to go do laundry. That and take the enlightening phone call from your aunt about your dad.

You knew you would have to face Mingyu eventually, you shared a mutual friend, but you didn’t think you were going to see him only a few hours after he made a fool out of you. Looking tired, a little lost, but a little hopeful, he actually looked cute standing there staring at you with those dark eyes. It was no wonder he would be called a puppy by the others.

It was really hard to stay mad at that face.

Instead of saying anything though, you just shrugged and continued down the steps. You didn’t need to look behind you to know he was following along, didn’t even need to hear the staircase creaking under his feet. You just knew.

The walk to the laundromat wasn’t a far one, with one right down the street, but it was quiet for the most part. He just followed behind you, until you had to stop and look at him.

“Did you want to talk? Or just follow me around until I call your owner to get you?” You ask, and his brows furrowed.

“Wonwoo-hyung isn’t my owner.” You rolled your eyes at this comment, turning back toward the laundromat. “And yeah, I did… I mean I do… I didn’t like how things were left.”

“Okay,” You respond, watching as the taller man open the laundromat entrance to let you through. He follows you like you expected. “So how did you plan to leave things? Seeing as you were desperate to get out of there.”

“I… uh… can we talk about this somewhere else?” He asked nervously, casting nervous behind him. The laundromat was empty, as it usually was at this time, so he seemed more nervous about someone coming in. You couldn’t see them, but you knew his ears were red. “Like back to your apartment or the park?”

“Worried about the gossiping grandmas coming in?” You ask, and he shook his head no, but his sheepish look told you otherwise. This for some reason made you giggle, “Then let me get these put on, and we can walk back to my apartment to talk. You can order us breakfast.”

“I like you.” Mingyu suddenly blurt out as you went to start putting the clothes into the machine. You stop for a moment to look at him, so much for waiting, before proceeding to continue putting the clothes in. “I… I’ve liked you for a while, and I feel stupid for last night. I panicked and I am sorry for doing that, especially when it was the opposite of what I wanted. Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting to see you last night, or had the night go the way it did.”

“I don’t think any of us was expecting the night to go the way it did.” You answer, finishing putting in the load of clothes and detergent. Starting the washer, you turned to look at Mingyu, your eyes going down to his hand. The one that punched that guy the previous night. “How’s your hand?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Mingyu let out a soft chuckle looking down at his hand, the knuckles bruised but it wasn’t anything too bad. “I can’t believe I punched the guy.”

“I can’t either.” You answer him, facing him completely with your arms crossed, but a small smile started playing on your face. “By the way, you are lucky to have such a great best friend, roommate, and wingman.”

“Why is that?” Mingyu asked confused, suddenly aware that you were stepping closer to him. That smile only widening, as he watches your arms unravel and reach up to straighten his hoodie.

“Meaning, you are the one who now owes Wonwoo this time. And he will cash it in too.” You tell him, and his eyes widen. It was like his body moved on its own, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flushed against him as his mouth found yours.

You had no intentions on telling Wonwoo what happened between the two of you, like you had told Mingyu, but when he had messaged you about it, you ended up just dumping it all on him. Admitting that you had been confused on how you had been feeling about Mingyu for a while now, not even sure when it had started, but it had been going on for months. You just thought it was the lack of a partner at the time, something that started to fuel the attraction.

You also weren’t blind to see that Mingyu was beautiful inside and out either. How could anyone say they wouldn’t want a night with him? But to you he was off limits. Eventually, and a few hooks ups, that attraction died down some and you took it as you were just horny. Or at least you thought.

Wonwoo did what he did best, listen to you, and gave you advice. And that was just take this as a Mingyu being an idiot, and to accept that you both wanted something more with each other. His words sunk into you and that was what made you not be able to sleep much, your mind reeling over everything that happened.

But one thing was for sure. You didn’t want him to stop kissing you like he was just then, but the sound of the door opening caused the two of your to break apart. Except Mingyu kept his arms around you. The elderly woman who came in eyed you both in disapproval before shaking her head and moving to one of the free machines.

“They’re not used to seeing me with anyone.” You whisper, and Mingyu gave you a lopsided smile, his hand cupping your face.

“Guess they will need to get used to seeing you with me.” Mingyu teased before kissing you again.

Hope you all enjoyed! This MingyuxReader will be back. In another fic of their own and you will see them in the other's as they come out. Y/N will have a name in the other fics in the series.

[just-a-carrot]

I'm not really in the mood to make a festive Happy New Year's post. So instead I'll just say... we made it. I made it. You made it. The year is over and we're still here. And that is enough.

It's no real secret by this point but 2024 has been one of the worst years of my life. From constant anxiety and panic attacks over job stability in the spring, to losing two family members, to the depressive spiral I entered after finishing OW, to the second spiral in the fall just when I thought maybe I was finally doing a bit better and everything came crashing back down, my mental health has been worse than it's ever been. And I've spent a lot more nights than I'd like to admit wishing I wouldn't wake up in the morning. (And downed a lot more sleeping pills than I'd like to admit because it's the only OTC thing I can get to mildly decrease my anxiety and help numb me a bit LOL)

I just want... this year to be over. Even though I have no hope for 2025 either and mostly just feel anxious and hopeless about it. But I will continue trying. Continuing grappling for the bits of joy that can keep me going. And maybe I finally will get a little bit of calm and peace. Who can say. I guess we'll see what 2025 decides to bring. I just really want to feel a bit better finally. And I hope that 2025 might take pity on me and allow me some mental respite.

2024 did have its moments of joy. Despite it sending me into the spiral, I am ofc glad that I finished OW finally this year. I consider it one of my greatest accomplishments. And I still can't believe that I put 3 whole years of work into this thing and just how much of my soul went into it. Even if my depression keeps trying to convince me that it (and me) are worthless.

I feel like I grew a lot in my art over the year. Trying new and more complex things. Getting better at composition and poses. Which led into my starting Broomtail, which gave me really the first renewed spark of creative joy since releasing the finale and actually made me excited to work on something again.

Speaking of joy amidst melancholy, DD2 was released this year, and it became the one thing that could keep me going at times. It brought me so much joy and inspiration when nothing else would. And it still holds my heart captive in its grip. From all the DD2 art I did, to the O2A2 game, to my silly tragic music video, to a very self-indulgent fanfic, it gave me so much creative energy, and I want to do more art for it in 2025 too! (And I'm still waiting for that DLC, Capcom...) I can't think of another game ever that's had this much of a hold on me before. Though I do attribute much of that to the fact that in my head it's mostly an OW AU since I could make Iggy and Genzou and play out their tragic love story and it was so beautiful and Genzou was so so sweet and cute GUH. Yeah... that helped a lot.

I think my main goal for 2025 is just to keep trying. To keep surviving. To keep trying to find hope and joy where I can. To believe that I can feel better and things can be better. Even when it's hard. And that hopefully... hopefully I will be able to find some peace in there finally.

I do have various projects I'd like to work on too. Like finishing the remaster, continuing Broomtail, maybe working on another game later on. But I'd rather just think of those as things I'd like to do for myself and because they bring me joy, rather than as any kind of goal or pressure. Especially since I never want to make any promises given the instability of my mental health.

I'm just so tired always. And I hate feeling scared and worthless all the time. I hate feeling trapped. Even if I know it's my own life choices and debilitating fear of change that has led to a lot of this. So it's my own fault in the end. But I hope I can find some solace. And I hope you can, too. I hope 2025 will be a kind year to everyone. And even if it's not, that we can find some joy and hope to help us through it.

Sorry this felt a bit morose LOL I guess I wanted to just take this opportunity to reflect back on the year a bit for some catharsis. I shall now sleep for 24 hours to recover from my flight hahaha.

if you saw this post a day ago for a few seconds i'm sorry -- i was working on it in my drafts and must have accidentally clicked post instead of save(??) somehow(???) idk but it posted and i panicked and deleted it and then had to rewrite it from scratch LOL

[wolfatemybaby]

Only posting these on here because I want to redo their sheets sometime in the future

CW: OLD ART EWWWW

Eurylochus - 6'5

Odysseus - 5'5

Polites - 6'3

Ctimene - 5'6

Telemachus - 5'8

Penelope - 6'1

————— EURYLOCHUS ODYSSEUS POLITES —————

The EuryOdyPoli were designed by Saxon (TWINN!) I just added a few twists here and there.

I struggled a lot with Eurylochus' pose. It was originally going to be him unsheathing his sword from his back but it would’ve been out of place for only him to have a weapon. I much prefer this shy-ish pose anyways. Also the usual hand on hip was not working so he’s cunty w it.

Odysseus is a small man. He’s below everyone he faces in the musical in some way.

Polites has a sleeper build made for scouting. He absolutely abuses his natural strength for suffocating hugs.

—— Hair headcanons

Eurylochus buzzes it all off over the summer after everyone gets used to it

Odysseus' hair is as soft as feathers

No one knows how Polites dyed/bleached his hair ginger, he just did one day and never stopped

—— Scars

Odysseus was the one to give Eurylochus the eye scar. When they were younger, they were having a heated battle and Athena offered Odysseus some power, (similar to in Little Wolf) but it nearly caused Odysseus to fatally injure Eurylochus. Since then Odysseus has been trying his hardest to make amends for it (not really), but all Eurylochus can see is the boy who nearly killed him.

About Eury’s top scars + Mini BG: Eury’s family kept trying for a son but gave up after five daughters. But in still wanting a son they made Eury take responsibility as one, and it helped him figure out who he was. Coming out in his mid teens then transitioning when he was of age.

Odysseus' thigh scar is as faded as the ones from the war. That’s how long it’s been. A scar that cut so deep when he was young, couldn’t be differentiated from war.

—— Clothing

Like most transmen, Eury prefers the baggiest of clothes known to man. He and Ctimene have a matching set of earrings that he fiddles with them when nervous. It was a wedding gift from Ody and Pen.

Ody's clothes have an inverted colour pattern, to tell apart the king from the rest of the crew. He was given a red cape and owl pin by Athena before going off to war. He also shared his ankle strap with Polites because Poli uses his as sleeve garters.

My clone told me to give Polites a green headband instead of the red, but do not worry! It’ll be stained red right after I make some panacakes. When Polites’ glasses are hit at the right angle his hazel eyes look red

————— CTIMENE TELEMACHUS PENELOPE —————

Ctimene’s feathers usually grow at the base of her head. She used to have more but they were clipped, literally, from the drawing and in the story. She had to clip her feathers so she doesn't get outcasted + they're itchy.

Telemachus got his vitiligo from Penelope and she got it from her dad. I made Telemachus’ vitiligo go around his chin to look like a beard because, (if I remember correctly) I heard in the Odyssey, Odysseus said that Telemachus will become king when he gets his beard. Tele's vitiligo is reminiscent of a wolf's spotted fur. Telemachus has luscious hair for no reason, all he uses is coconut oil. He’s also trans because we say so. It took me ages to find a good pose for him.

Penelope's skin is very translucent at some parts to showing off the blue undertones. Her vitiligo is supposed to represent fish scales. AND HER FUCKING POSE OH MY DAYS I CANT DRAW STAGNANT FRONT VIEW CHARACTERS FOR THE LIFE OF ME

—— Clothes

Ctimene has the matching earrings and a red shawl given to her by Ares. She’s barefoot because she doesn't like shoes since her feathers get caught in the straps. Also she has a toe ring like Zeus. She gave one her bangles to Telemachus and even pierced his ears.

Penelope is elegant as always and her outfit drops to the floor. You’d imagine the white being on the lower half would turn muddy from being dragged along but she’s not going anywhere. She’s cooped up in her room, weaving.

Ctimene’s and Penelope’s head wraps are the blue the soldiers wore to war, to honour them in some way.

[candycryptids]

Sometimes, courage is Running Away

But you should still watch your step-

Laidonerette normally shouldn’t have wandered so far out of Central Shroud- deep into the South Shroud, possibly drawn by the driving rains to expand its hunting grounds.

Fortunate, then, that a healer was also seeking to hide from the Serpent far from home, and drug him under the overhang and out of sight.

Featuring Amynthe [She/They/???] from @ser-corviknight

Shader used is [Neneko's Sketch] in all except the last which is [Neneko's Vanilla Natural] Hey did you know Laidonerette spawns only when it rains for 30 continuous irl minutes in Central Shroud? That’s nuts :)

[hellsdogs]

𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐃𝐀𝐈 & 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈

       @wellfell asked for an incorrect quote

[icewindandboringhorror]

everyday I miss miitomo .. aaa

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[drop--pop--candy]

thinking abt The Memory Issues again. sad!

[phagodyke]

woke up feeling ruffff but took my meds and went back to bed for a while n I feel a bit better

[chelseeebe]

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie. modern au

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn’t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.” 

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—” 

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.” 

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot. 

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?” 

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.” 

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.” 

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.” 

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down. 

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar. 

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her. 

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so. 

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her. 

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to. 

You loved him from afar. 

He loved you differently. 

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing. 

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.” 

“Anything big?” 

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.” 

“Need me to come?” 

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…” 

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—” 

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.” 

“Are you sure?” he posed, the question twisting his brow. 

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt. 

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now. 

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now. 

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out. 

Azriel breathed through a smile. 

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap. 

That sounded the same. 

~~

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for. 

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?” 

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.” 

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?” 

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.” 

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears. 

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little. 

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.” 

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.” 

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.” 

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—” 

“Cassian.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain. 

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth. 

“No—” 

“Yes.” 

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.” 

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat. 

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.” 

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room. 

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie. 

And you were an awful liar. 

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment. 

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings. 

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.” 

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually. 

You needed the space. 

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin. 

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.” 

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility. 

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you. 

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.” 

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for. 

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost. 

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted. 

“Yes,”  you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.” 

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian. 

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak. 

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.” 

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily. 

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain. 

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again. 

A different obstacle, for a different time. 

[1mlei]

I absolutely love the idea that Danny kills the Joker (because creepy clowns eww) and Jason happens to walk in right as he's panicking all over the place. Danny is desperately trying to explain it was an accident, while Jason's over here simultaneously feeling the best he's ever felt since his revival and falling head over heels in love at the same time.

Very cute, very fun, wholesome murder, 10/10 will read every time.

----------

Danny: *shoving Joker's body behind dumpster in a panic*

Jason: "Is that a dead body?"

Danny, recognizing Red Hood as someone famous in the Realms for avenging murder victims: "Oh hi Mr. Hood, ma'am, sir.. See this isn't what it looks like, it was a total accident I swear on half my life!"

Jason: "Half your wha-"

Danny, still in shock: It's just he was being all creepy, and I've had bad experiences with clowns before, I and then this one had a gun so I pushed him a bit, didn't mean to kill the dude, honestly!"

Jason: *walks over to check body*

Danny: "Soo, total accident, and I don't feel like being arrested, so I'm gonna go.."

Jason, realizing that is indeed the Joker lying dead behind a dumpster: "Hang on, at least give me-"

Jason turning around and seeing his saviour has vanished: "Damn, didn't even get his number."

...

Jason: *giddily takes selfie with corpse*

----------

Jason: *patrolling in relative peace when he sees some random guy and the flipping Joker in an alley, said Joker has a gun pulled on the poor guy*

Jason: *about to swing in to save the day and take out the Joker*

Danny, faced with a clown pointing a gun at his head while ranting about all the creepy things he's gonna do: "Yea no that's not gonna fly"

Danny: *Goes full on eldritch abomination and eats the Joker's soul, leaving his body as a lifeless husk*

Jason, standing at the mouth of the alley in disbelief:

Danny, turning back into his human form: "Oh eww, so not worth it, that guy tasted terrible."

Jason: *frantically straightens his jacket, tries to fix his hair and realizes his helmet's in the way, then strikes a pose and tries to look natural*

Danny: *turns around and realizes he's not alone*("omg is that Red Hood?")

Jason, using all his rizz: "Hey there handsome, don't suppose you'd let me treat you to some dessert after a meal like that? There's a place down the street ;)"

Danny: "..What?"

----------

Alternatively, Danny and Jason were already dating but got into an argument.

Danny, walking down a street brooding thinking: "Man, I've got to figure out how to make it up to Jason, chocolates, flowers, maybe get him a book, hmmm.."

Joker: *creepy giggling as he yanks a random kid that looks like he could possibly be a Wayne into alley™*

Danny, eyes lighting up: "Ohh yes you'll be perfect, thanks dude :]"

Joker: "Wh-"

..20 minutes later..

Danny, walking into his and Jason's apartment: "Babe! I'm sorry about earlier, but I have something to make it up to you!"

Jason, peeking around the corner with a frown: "Well whatever it is it's not just gonna fix- is that the fucking Joker?"

Danny: "Yep! Don't worry he only looks dead cause I'm holding his soul hostage right now, I thought you should get to do the honours <3"

Jason:

Danny:

Jason:

Danny: "...I have chocolates and that book you wanted to read as well..?"

Jason: "Marry me"

----------

Mmmhhh yes I love this trope so much!!

[yieldtotemptation]

ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.  

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.  

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck.  Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

[eideticmemory]

SNAP OUT OF IT | SPENCER REID

Spencer knows he’s just a coworker. He knows he’s just a friend. He knows you’ve got a boyfriend. He just doesn’t really give a fuck!

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning/Includes: Taken!Reader, DownBad!Spencer, a little angst and a little smut.

Dedicated to wifetthew + future mrs stewart (and sidepiece) who inspire me everyday and don’t even realize it.

Spencer vividly remembers the moment he realized he was in love with you. Spencer remembers everything about you but this moment in particular, he recounts in his mind a lot. You had just joined the unit. He could tell you - you'd only been there three months, two weeks, and five days. You were flying across time zones so by the time you landed, it would be six days. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was nearly there. Save for you two. You tried your hand in a round of chess but you're shit at it so you'd taken to a game of cards. Spencer remembers thinking it was the easiest conversation he's ever had in his life. He could talk and talk and talk until he lost his breath and when he was done, you'd do the same until there was no air left in your lungs either. He shuffled the cards between his fingertips, hanging onto your every word, watching the sparkle in your eye as you spoke. He kept firing out subtle agreements between your words like, 'yeah...oh, I know...absolutely,’ not just because it's impossible to disagree with your pretty face but because you’re so smart. You get it. He actually had the thought: she gets it.

Finally, he thought, someone gets it.

And you felt just the same. You said to him, "Thank you for agreeing. No one ever gives a shit about my foreign film analysis."

"I...I give a shit."

You chuckled at the gentleness with which he swore and although his voice was soft, it was genuine. "I appreciate it. My boyfriend's unreasonably against the horror genre as a whole. I think it's his biggest flaw. I like being scared."

Because you were too busy counting up your cards, you couldn’t see the bright smile instantly drop from Spencer's face. He could feel the shift in his muscles, the way his eyes stretched wide. He promptly shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat, “B-boyfriend?"

"Yeah..." you shrugged. Very casual, very nonchalant. "Three years next month."

"Oh, wow," he replied and it sounded kind of snide but you didn't think much of it. “That's nice."

He had realized he was in love with you three years too late.

Spencer could have accepted defeat, yeah. Absolutely. If there's one thing the boy genius can do, it's compartmentalize. This is work. This is [y/n]. This is my coworker. This is our job. This is our jet. These are the cards we've been dealt. The best thing to do would be to play them as they fall. Yet, he keeps himself awake for six hour flights just to hold your undivided attention, to talk about things nobody else cares about. His eyes linger on you as you deliver a profile and he thinks: That's [y / n]. That's her face. That's her voice. That's the sweater that matches her eyes just right and the boots she wears when we travel down south. If there's one thing the boy genius can't do when it comes to you, it's compartmentalize. How could he?

He finds himself standing by the elevator at four in the morning. There is nothing exciting about being called in at four in the morning, save for the prospect of seeing you. The elevator dings and he stands up straight, poses his satchel just perfectly on his hip. He wants to be picture perfect ready. Like a model directly out of a Backup Boyfriend catalog. Although, when you step out, you don't even notice he's there. You storm through the bullpen, your phone held up to your ear and your head ducked down. You sequester yourself in an awkward corner, far enough that you feel secluded but not enough so that Spencer can't see you. He sways in place, an attempt to look casual, his hair tucked behind his ear so he can hear you better. He picks up strained words like, 'please...I don't know...okay...fine...bye!' It all comes to a sudden end, your thumb landing on the screen with such force that it could crack.

You seamlessly join the rest of the team, shoving your phone in your back pocket. Try as you might to shift your focus, the edge hasn't quite left your body so when Spencer asks, "You okay?" You respond with a curt, "Yeah. I'm fine.”

He thinks: That's fine. That's okay. I can take it. On the jet, you bury your nose in a case file and when your phone won't stop vibrating, you silence it completely. Spencer brings you a cup of coffee and you hardly even process it.

"Cream and extra sugar," he pips because he knows that's how you like it.

"Thanks.”

That's it. Spencer waits for more but it never comes. He sits on the opposite side of the jet, watching you pick up your phone, huff, and type, type, type in a rage. He thinks: I cannot take this.

The case is a good distraction. A relief for him to know that even when you are not yourself, you're still brilliant. You just can't help it. There's a moment where he just finishes the geographical profile and you stand at his side, arms crossed as you look it over. Your gasp cuts through the air like a knife and his eyes land on you instantaneously.

"Spencer Reid." You put your hand on his shoulder and oh, he almost drops to his knees. “You're a fucking genius."

You race out of the room and he exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He grips onto his shoulder and his skin is still red hot.

A win is good. You needed a win. You all needed a win. Makes you feel good for something. Makes the flight home much less suffocating than its departure. On top of solving murders in a rush, the mental gymnastics your brain has endured over the week leaves you exhausted. You pull a blanket over your body and snuggle against the solid walls of the jet. You let out this big, heavy sigh just as Spencer sits down across from you.

“Close call today, huh?” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod. You look up at him with these bleary eyes and they’re so beautiful that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to talk.

But he does, “All thanks to you.”

You smile. You want to be bashful, to deny the praise, but you don’t have the energy. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He watches you take another deep breath, your body lulling into further peace by the second. He hates to disrupt it. “You, uh…” he stutters. “You wanna share what’s been bothering you now?”

You glance over at him from the corner of your eye, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a profiler.”

You chuckle. He loves to make you laugh. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“You…you know I’m the profiler, right?”

You sit up, another laugh escaping your throat without much thought. It feels nice. “Yeah. Right.”

“So?”

“I’m just…stressed…” you finally admit, though that part was evident.

“Blackjack?” He sets an array of cards in front of you.

You nod, “I have a stressful job. Hit me.”

He flips another card, “Five. Yeah, you do.”

“And…it’s hard when…when things at home are stressful, too. Makes it worse. Hit me.”

Another card, “Ooh, six. That makes sense.”

“Sometimes, I…I don���t know…I let myself get pulled in too many different directions,” you look over your cards, dangerously close to 21, and you take a leap of faith. “Hit me.”

He turns the final card over and it brings you right to 21. The way it unfolds shocks you, pulls you from your brain fog and you break out in a grin. “21? That’s 21, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He bites down on the smile on his lip and it’s a look on him you’ve never seen before. You can’t stop staring at it. “All you, money bags.”

You giggle, “Did you rig that?”

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, casually clearing the pile. “There’s no rigging in blackjack.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before.”

“Everything should be that easy for you,” he whispers. There’s a slight change in his tone that even an untrained profiler could pick up. He glances up to meet your gaze, “I’d rig it all for you if I could.”

Now, he thinks because he’s resetting the table that you’re not focused on the subliminal message in his voice. But you notice. You look down at your cards, look back at him, “Hit me.”

When the boyfriend is a concept, an idea trapped inside your phone, a mirage that you only mention in passing conversation, Spencer doesn’t think much of him. Spencer doesn’t think of the motherfucker at all. You clock into work and he’s determined to take the time he can get with you, any way he can, the only way he knows how.

You get back into DC one night and the sun hasn’t even set yet. Emily and JJ invite you out for drinks and it’s with an anxious nod that you accept. So Spencer super graciously accepts. He strides beside you on the walk from the bureau, keeping you tucked in on the safety of the sidewalk because he doesn’t know how to not shield you. From anything. You order a wine and a glass of water. Spencer sits right beside you and orders himself a shirley temple.

You gasp, “Ohhh my god, I should’ve got that.”

“Here,” he slides the glass over to you.

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay.”

“No, take it.”

“I can’t.”

“But I’m offering. I don’t even want it. Maraschino cherries, yuck, gross. You have it.”

You chuckle and shyly grab the drink, sticking a straw in. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he nods. And he means that mhm in the way of it’s really no big deal. He’d give you a kidney if he was a match.

He trades you for your water though he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He watches you fall into loud conversation with the other ladies, yours being the only laugh to match Penelope’s in pitch.

You lean into him, cackling, “She’s insane. Oh my god, she’s ridiculous.”

His skin buzzes where your shoulders make contact and his face is bright red from how wide he smiles at you. “Oh, yeah. I could’ve told you that.”

Spencer’s absolutely obsessed with the joy in your eyes, the way you nearly choke on your second shirley temple. The way you’re so close to him. He cannot look away. So when your smile suddenly drops and that joy’s promptly replaced with anxiety, he’s the first to notice.

“Hey,” you whisper to the figure behind him. He turns around and looks the man up and down. “You’re early.”

The Boyfriend shrugs, “Sorry. Hi, everyone.”

He’s not at all like Spencer imagined him. He’s taller. Not as much of a little bitch.

You rise from your seat and wrap your hand around Boyfriend’s bicep. “Uh, this is just some of the team. That’s Emily, Penelope, JJ and, uh, Spencer. This is my boyfriend.”

They all dole out polite waves and smiles. Except for Spencer. He stands up tall and ha, just as he thought, they’re the same height. He gives Boyfriend a stern handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Spencer? Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard that much about you.”

The ladies exchange confused glances and you exhale a quick breath to cut the tension.

“Well, we’ve been together a while. Too much there to sum up in words, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Spencer nods and here is another smile you’ve never seen on his face before. It’s not genuine. That, you know.

“You ready to go?” Boyfriend asks and you nod.

“Mhm. Bye, you guys!” you wave, falling into the grip of the possessive hand around your waist.

Emily glares at Spencer as he lowers back onto his stool, his eyes not leaving the door even when you’re long out of sight. “You done swinging that thing around?” she mutters.

“Hm?” he hums. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.”

As Boyfriend opens the car door for you, he can’t help but comment, “So that’s Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah?” you buckle yourself in and it’s an anxious few seconds before he’s buckled in beside you.

“Well, it makes sense now.”

“What?”

“The little toothpick’s in love with you.”

Spencer doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the time you spend on your phone at work becomes more frequent after that. That you come in looking drained and pale even at ten o’clock in the morning. That, carefully, you distance yourself from him. It’s not a coincidence. It just hurts.

As he reads over a case file, he builds a tower of cards. You can’t help but admire the way his brain splits in two, one side reading and the other stacking each piece just right. It’s cool. You think it’s cool, but there’s not a kind bone in your body today and you snip, “Got nothing better to do?” as you sit across from him. “People are dying.”

“People are always dying. Kind of how we get a paycheck.”

“Mm. How altruistic of you.”

“I’m just passing the time,” he continues to stack. He’s very near the top of the pyramid. “People do all sorts of things to pass time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know. They spend hours, days, weeks, years…building something. And you know, you would think that would ensure some type of stability or longevity or…anything, right?”

“I guess.”

“But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes no matter how much time passes or…how much effort you put in,” he places the final two cards on top. “It’s just not meant to last.”

And with a tiny flick of his finger, the whole pyramid comes tumbling down. You can’t help but watch the picturesque scene, the way they float down onto the table in a big mess.

Spencer doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re smart. You get it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though.

That night, you can’t sleep. For some reason, you’ve got this idea in your head that if you force your eyes open for a few hours longer, you can make yourself useful on a case that, so far, has no end in sight. The hotel accommodating the team is a nice one. There’s a library on the first floor that they leave open 24/7, perfect for a profiler on the hunt. You flip through the files in the near pitch black, curled up in a chair beside the tiniest lamp in the world. Despite your eye for detail, you don’t even notice when Spencer walks in. Not until he clears his throat.

You look up at him, startled, until you see his face, “Oh,” not the reaction he was hoping for. “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“I like to think I’d find you anywhere,” he shrugs. He sits down in the chair beside you and looks over your shoulder. You can smell him from just a foot away but it doesn't affect you. It can’t affect you. “Any luck?”

“No. Care to help?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, great.”

“[y/n], it’s late. Nothing you can do without brain power.”

“I just hate…” you start, the exclamation coming out before you can hold yourself back. Spencer watches you intently, hanging onto your voice. “T-the detergent they use on the linens. Gives me a headache.”

He sighs, “Yeah. Me too. I swiped some extra pillow mints. Want one?”

“Mhm,” you hold your hand out and unwrap the candy instantly. It helps your anxiety.

Enough so that you open up just a bit more, you tell Spencer about the headache that’s been bashing against your skull all day. “But maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.”

“Or not enough.”

You laugh, “Yeah, no, that must be it.”

Your phone pings in your lap and you check the message very quickly, the small smile that once sat on your lips dissipating in thin air. Just when he wrangled a laugh out of you, Spencer thinks. Of course. He watches your entire mood change in the blink of an eye and he fucking hates it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Yeah…tired. Should probably head to bed.”

“But the detergent?”

You chuckle, “I’ll survive.”

On the elevator ride up to your floor, you rest your back against the wall, Spencer perched right beside you. You keep your eyes closed, your hands gripping the bar for balance. The motion doesn’t help your headache. You gulp, clear your throat, and when you open your eyes, Spencer is staring at you. Shamelessly. You furrow your eyebrows at him, tracking his eyes as they focus in on your mouth.

“Are you looking at my lips?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“Can you read them?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” that snaps him out of his trance and he stands up straight, shaking his head. The elevator dings and he walks off, exasperated, exhausted, exclaiming, “[y/n], who cares?”

Your jaw drops in shock and by the time you step out to follow him, he’s already marched into his room. You scoff as you burst into your own suite. You crash in bed and you lay there tossing and turning for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only thirty minutes but it’s long enough. Long enough for this unbridle, illogical rage to build within you. Long enough for your mind to fill with thoughts like: who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Oh, I’ll tell him what he doesn’t know. And you hop out of bed. You storm down the hall in your slippers, knocking on Spencer’s door like, ironically, the feds.

Lucky for you, he was nowhere near asleep yet. He swings the door open and he opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Listen, Einstein.”

“I’m listening.”

“Just…just because you don't get it doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on my relationship.”

“Who was shitting on your relationship?”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, I was shitting on your relationship.”

“And that’s not fair.”

“But you’re…” and he enunciates this next word very clearly. “Not happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I am. You don’t know anything. You don’t know me or my life. You don’t get to cast judgement.”

“Oh, okay. Okay. Well, then, I’m so happy for you, [y/n]. I am.”

You’ve said all you need to say and you have no interest in hearing any more. You turn around and march away but he persists, “Hey, I really am. I’ll be the first one to buy something off your wedding registry!”

There are no more card games on the jet for a while.

And that sucks, but you’re trying to prove a point here. Spencer knows nothing. Maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe that’s why it stings. Maybe that’s why he can hardly look you in the eye, but you’re trying to prove a point here.

You’ve drawn a boundary that should’ve been drawn long ago. Not even because you wanted to but out of spite. Spite can carry you a long way. It has before. The nature of your work makes it easy to clock in and think of nothing else. Focus on nothing other than getting the job done. It’s the moments in between that are hard.

Like tonight, as you’re typing up case notes at your desk. It’s too quiet. It leaves too much room for opportunity. Taking full advantage, Spencer sets a small gift bag in front of you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, your face etched with inhibition.

“I…” he stutters. “I got it a while ago. Thought it’d be a nice birthday present and I won’t see you tomorrow, so…”

You give him a small smile. The ice doesn’t just thaw, it melts. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you dive into the bag, pulling out the hardcover book and holding it flat between your palms. You release a small gust of air from your nose. You touch the textured font of the lettering along the cover. “Oh, Spencer.”

He has to act like the tone in your voice doesn’t have the biggest effect on him. Hearing his name in such a gentle whisper. He just shrugs, “I recognized the limited edition cover while I was in this library near the art museum. It’s a nice library, you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you breathe before you can censor it. “The book. I love the book. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

There’s so much more to be said. The weight of it all vibrates behind your teeth and you grind them together as you gaze at Spencer. He can see your mouth aching to open but he knows it won’t.

“Well…happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope it’s a great one.”

“Thank you.”

And you watch him disappear. You feel your heart sink to the barrel of your stomach, like all the words you’re destined to scream out to him are making you sick.

This nausea lasts well into your birthday. No matter the sheer amount of fuss. No matter the amount of texts or calls or gifts that arrive at your door. You’re sick. Even when you put on your fanciest dress for dinner, you curl up in your office with your new book, finally and for no reason, gathering the courage to open its pages and read the quote recounted on the first page.

“And here you come

with a shield for a heart

and a sword for a tongue”

Happy Birthday, [y/n]

Spencer

You slam the book shut and trap it in the drawer of your desk. You’re sick.

You still eat at your birthday dinner. The love and affection reserved for a day like today helps settle your stomach. You think: I am [y/n]. It’s my birthday. These are my gifts. They are from people who love me. This is my boyfriend. This is my birthday cake. It works, it’s working.

Then he pulls out that fucking ring.

The angle at which he kneels in front of you catches the light just right and the diamond blinds you in the eye. Your mind, along with the entire room, falls silent. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime - silence. When his voice cuts through the thick air, you can see his lips moving, you can hear the vibrations going wah wah wah wah wah. But nothing is as loud as the sound of your own breathing, heavy and rapid. Your hands are over your heart but just to keep it from forcing its way out of your chest. You’re sick.

You’re sick.

Spencer had just gotten in bed. He made it the entire day without allowing himself to call you and now he figures he can force himself to sleep. That is until there’s a booming knock at his door. Now he’s wired. He springs into action like it’s not a potential threat and he throws his body against the door to glance out the peephole.

When he opens it, you are still out of breath. Your chest is heaving and you wheeze with every exhale. His eyes travel down your body, the pretty dress and your beaten and bare feet, the heels dangling from your fingers. The look in your eyes is a mystery to him. It’s laced with exasperation and desperation and he furrows his brows trying to figure it all out. Nonetheless, when he sees you moving towards him, he wraps his arms tight around your waist, opens his mouth and gasps as you kiss him.

He’s quick to close the door behind you, stumbling when you drop your shoes to the ground, but only for a moment. No time for stumbling here. He moans at the sudden grip you take of his hair and his body pushes into yours even more, directing you to his bedroom with just the pressure of his chest.

Never expecting this to happen, let alone tonight, Spencer is quick to swipe away all the books that have piled up on his bed. He promptly takes their place and grabs your waist to pull you back into the kiss. You have to hike your dress up your thighs to properly straddle him but once you, he swears he can feel the warmth all the way to his toes.

Your eyes roll back as he licks all over your neck, attacking your chest with sloppy kisses and sudden bites. You feel his erection raise between your legs and the pressure of it has you moaning directly in his ear. The vibration scratches just the right spot in his brain and he bunches your dress up in his hands, the veins along his arm straining through his skin.

You huff, pull back to look at his face, his eyes hooded and hungry. “What…” you pant. “What am I doing?”

Caught off guard, Spencer can’t do much but blink. And shrug. “What…are you doing?”

You stumble over your words, if that’s what you could even call them. It’s more a collection of whines and one short whimper before you simply carry on. Grab his face, catch his mouth and let it go. Perfect for Spencer, because he didn’t really need an answer.

He follows your lead as you undo the tie on his sweatpants. He pushes and you pull until his throbbing cock is free. You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. It just all feels so unreal, like a dream, like a fantasy. Except it’s not, it’s tangible. You can feel it. You can touch him - and you do. You wrap your hand around him and shudder as he grips onto your forearms. His teeth are clenched tight so it makes it harder for him to kiss you, harder for him to breathe but he keeps you locked in place. If he could talk, he’d beg please don't stop, please. Please, please, please.

And it’s like you can read his mind. Through the ferocity with which he pushes his face into yours, the way his hips buck underneath you, you get it. You’ll give it to him. You pull your panties to the side and just the tip pressing against you sends a visual jolt through your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper. More like - right? This is right? Right?

Almost immediately, Spencer grunts, “Yes. Yes. Yeah,” he could say it in a million other languages if it would get the point across but english is good enough. You lower yourself down on him and thoughtless, he yelps, “Yes!” as he falls back on the bed.

Even though he’s transcended his own body, Spencer keeps his eyes locked on you. His gaze follows your jaw as it drops wide open and both of your moans fall in sync as you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s hand clamps down on your thigh, the other reaching up to touch your face. The tender contact makes your vision blurry but you can still see the way he’s looking at you.

He touches your hair and your jaw and takes a soft sweep over your cheekbone. His thumb runs over your bottom lip. He can feel your breath coming out hot and quiet each time you land on him, the rhythm of your body taking the air out of both of you.

Is this really happening? he thinks. This can’t be happening. But you increase your speed, lower your inhibition, send a shock of pleasure through him so good that he has no choice but to believe it’s real. You catch his thumb between your lips and he grunts, whines out for you, “[y/n]…”

“Mm, yes?” you lay your body flat against his, your hands intertwining with his amongst the bedsheets and he clenches his fist tight, tight, tight, tight. It’s all so much. Stimulation coming from everywhere at once. From your chest rubbing against his, from your pussy tightening around him like you’re nearly swallowing him whole. From the messy kiss your lips tangle in and the ever increasing volume from you both.

Spencer bends his knees behind you, supporting your body when your movements become rushed and uncontrollable. With your hand pressed to his chest and your head thrown back, he’s emboldened enough to grope your breasts, losely place his hands around your throat.

“Oh…” you whimper. “G-god…” and Spencer hangs onto the broken sound of your voice, enamored by the way your eyes cross over one another. He feels like he’s not doing much, like his body is still in shock and most focused on keeping himself grounded. As you crash down on him, he bends underneath the pressure, overwhelmed as each bounce grows more deliberate than the last. Each collision accompanied by a throaty, “Mm…mm…hmm.” Until your thighs come to a grinding halt and latch onto him, the orgasm radiating from your belly to your chest and directly to your head. He responds to your boisterous moan with a breathless gasp, catching you in his arms when you land on his chest.

He peppers your shoulder with tiny kisses, licking his way to your neck, biting your throat because he absolutely has to. Your hips continue in this mindless rhythm, draining every last twitch from your body as he whispers, “[y/n]…”

“Hm?”

“[y/n]…I, mm,” you catch his voice in your mouth, pushing your tongue between his lips. You attack his neck. You push his shirt up his torso just to move down his body and kiss his stomach.

“[y/n]…ah!” and though you love the sound of your name on his lips, you love to hear him scream even more and after you suck his cock into your mouth, he can’t stop screaming. Mouth open, body trembling, ear ringing moans. He reaches down to keep your hair out of your face and his hips jolt a bit rougher than he means to. He wants to look at you but his body is too taut. He wants to hold you in the palm of his hand, to call out your name one last time to make sure this is real. But he shoots into your mouth, his legs flailing around your frame, and all he can do, still, is scream.

You hum. You swallow. You slide off of him with a sharp pop. You crawl off of his body and drop as soon as your head hits the pillow. Spencer’s hand keep track of you, grazing your thigh, sad to feel you leave, begging to keep you close. Even as he struggles to breath, he balls up the edge of your dress in his fist. You lean back against the headboard, looking up at his ceiling fan, your body finally exerting all its energy and unable to move any further. The room has settled into nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and catharsis.

Spencer looks up at you and when you make eye contact with him, there are so many more complicated thoughts you could have. But the only thing that swims in your mind is the slow bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You rest your knuckles on his cheekbone and he promptly grabs your wrist, peppers soft kisses all over your hand.

You owe him something. He has every right to ask. As he opens his mouth, you’re prepared to tell the truth. You will give him nothing but the truth.

“Did you see they’re adapting another Stephen King novel into a movie?”

You exhale a small laugh. Partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because you had been dying to talk to him about it. “Yes. And I think it’s stupid.”

“Me too! I mean, the premise is promising, I think it can be done, but it’s the…”

“Supernatural element.”

“Yeah!”

“It’s hard to pull off. Major chances of it turning out cheesy and robotic.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’m still going to see it.”

“Oh, me too,” you laugh and his laughter blends in just perfectly.

It can wait. There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot of questions to ask and answer but for now, it’s easy. This, Spencer thinks. This is it. This is actually the easiest conversation he’s ever had in his life. And he’s not gonna fuck it up now.

Author’s note:

Ahh 😝 thanks for reading!!! Like, reblog, comment, all the things!! Just wanted an excuse to post this meme. Stay safe out here 😚

[iwriteyanderes2023]

Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.