#OR would be something they would totally listen to

[trivia-yandere]

survival

you apply to a dating-show in hopes of winning enough money so you and your sister can live comfortably. what you didn’t know that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched.

word count: 12.569

warning: several character death, blood, dark web, yandere tendencies, kissing, voyeurism, manipulative tactics, cult-like behaviors, orgy (ft. jimin+taehyung+jungkook), oral sex (f), unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, nipple sucking, dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, exhibitionism,

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader @chimmisbae @

valentine's day masterlist

“Let’s get something straight, ladies.”

Your eyes turn towards who is speaking. The woman is tall, her skin almond and seemingly shining beneath the golden lights of the mansion. Her hair is neatly slicked into a bun, not an out of place hair in sight. Her eyes are dark as they roam around the room at each one of the contestants. She raises a manicured hand, crimson nails going around to point at each of you - six women in total.

“This is a competition.” the woman says, lowering her hand. “You all are not friends.”

You don’t respond, opting to listen instead as the other women chatter amongst themselves. One thing for certain, you didn’t have to be told at all.

“For the past week, you along with hundreds of other women had fought diligently to be where you are standing now. This is your final challenge. Look to your left and your right, as you are now competing against your direct rivals.”

You glance around, the mansion surely was luxurious. It has the highest ceilings you’ve ever seen; not as if you’ve seen many. It’s bright with shining lights, a sparkling chandelier high on the ceiling that caught your attention upon having entered. The floors are marble and appear so clean that you could even see your reflection on it. 

“You each have rooms located up the staircase.” the woman waves her hand to the large staircase, its carpets are dark and looks as if it wouldn’t squeak beneath your feet like the stairs you’ve grown accustomed to. “Your names are located on the door. Here, you will change into what you see is fitting for today's challenges.”

The woman begins to stroll up the stairs, her heels not being a problem in the slightest as you six begin to follow her. 

The railings are a mahogany color and as you walk further up, you notice the walls are painted with a mural of a landscape. It appears to be a forest going through different stages of seasons, winter being the first and spanning all the way through spring, summer and fall. Your eyes marvel at the sight - how detailed the mural was and how long it must’ve taken to complete.

“I can’t believe we’re in such an amazing house.”

Your attention is caught when one girl speaks. You’re now at the top of the stairs and make your way towards the bedroom, your eyes skinning over the names until you see where yours is. The door is tall and has the same mahogany color as the stair railings. There’s carnings on the wooden door displaying an array of flowers. The handle is cold and shiny and it clicks as you open it.

The room is large - the largest room you’ve even encountered, even larger than your living room in your apartment.

As you enter, the lights turn on automatically, the same high ceilings as the rest of the mansion with a diamond chandelier right in the middle of the room, as well. Below it, a large queen sized bed that’s elevated sits, an array of pillows displayed neatly on it. 

The floors are the same marble as before, only this time there’s a white, fluffy rug by the bed.

You release a sigh, kicking off your shoes to then go towards the bed. You plop down onto it and it slightly bounces back. You have never been on a bed that was this comfortable before and it’s as if it embraces you entirely, your eyes already becoming heavy.

There’s a loud ringing nose that catches you by surprise and you spring up from the bed. Your heart is pounding and your head whips around to find where the ringing is coming from - it’s loud, almost as if it’s a speaker, but you cannot find from where.

“Welcome,”

The voice speaks and you’re now positive that it is a speaker - maybe on the walls or ceilings.

Your eyes cannot find anything.

“Anjali, Chan-Mi, Y/N,” your ears perk when the speaker - a man - says your name. “Zarish, Luisa, Siohban.”

You suppose these are the girls you will be competing against. You swallow the lump in your throat as the speaker continues to speak.

“I suppose you all know what you six are getting into being a part of this?”

“A dating show…?” your sister murmurs, her eyes cautiously watching you. “...out of everything? A dating show?”

“I’m not expecting anyone to understand.” you suppress a laugh. You tap your fingers against your thigh as you sit besides her on the small couch in your living area.

“You’re trying to find love in this economy?”

“Realistically? No.” you shrug your shoulders. You and she were watching something she had put on Youtube when you had decided to tell her your plans.  “But I read the terms and condition and the contract so-”

“You’re serious? About going on a dating show?”

Your sister doesn’t look amused in the slightest and honestly, you didn’t blame her. You and she would laugh at how ridiculous the girls looked pinning after one man and often fighting for his heart just for him to not choose any of them - and now you were going to be doing the same. 

“For love? No. I don’t even expect to be chosen.” you admit, turning towards her to give her a soft smile. “But, we do get paid for being on there. Exposure, too. It’s a start and whatever money we need I will surely take.”

Your sister sighs, nodding slightly. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week max. It’s live, apparently.” 

You were older than your sister by nearly five years, having taken her in a year after you left home yourself. While your sister remained in High School, you had to be the one to work for everything you and she both needed - two jobs weren’t ideal for you, but you made it work.

As time went on, bills increased, as did rent and the overall cost of living. Your sister needed necessities and as did you and your two job income wasn’t enough.

“How did you find out about this?”

“Job interview.” you snort, as if two jobs weren’t enough, you were thinking about picking up a third - just for a few hours you had free on your off days. “Said I…would fit the part. Whatever that means.”

“Would I be able to watch it live? What type of dating show is only a week?” your sister is asking all of the correct questions that you should - but you are only there for the money; you are sure everyone else is, as well. 

“I’m not even sure where it would be streaming. I’ll have to ask. I’m sure it’s very…variety show like? Maybe even a game show?” you shrug your shoulders, pondering if there would be an elimination every day of the week; how anyone would find love that way is beyond you. “Us competing for a man possibly none of us are attracted to.” you joke. “Having us do odd challenges to win his heart.”

“I bet he’s ugly and old.” you sister cringes. “What if you have to kiss him?”

You cackle, head leaning back to laugh. “For a few thousands, it’s what I have to do. Life isn’t cheap.” In the back of your head, you understand that this isn’t ideal - that your sister was right and this could be an older guy who’s not the most attractive looking man; as no one knows what he looks like. But if this is what you had to do then so be it.

You were taking a week off of work for this - luckily, paid time off has come through for both jobs. “Even if I’m not the winner, honestly, let’s hope for that. I’ll be back.” you promise her.

Your sister nods her head slightly, tilting her head to the side to look at you. 

You understood what you were getting into and doing this for - and you are positive your motive is similar to the other five women. None of which know who the man is, his beliefs, likes or dislikes - anything. You were all completely in it for the money; the promise of a lavish lifestyle. 

In the beginning, you told yourself that you didn’t need to win, you think, you just had to be here long enough to get any form of prize.

However, now, you’re certain that this was now or never. You came this far and even managed to be picked by the man himself along with the other five women; all rivals of yours.

“That being said, the competition starts immediately. I’m looking for a wife and I don’t have much time to find her.”

You want to scoff at how desperate the man sounds. You try to put a face to the voice, but are unable to. He sounds young, no older than 30, but with the way technology is now, you can never be certain. 

“The game starts now, you all.” the voice says. “If I cannot find a wife in you five, then that means I’ll have to do this all over again - and I’ll rather not.”

There’s a shiver that runs down your spine at his words and you’re unsure as to why. You take a deep breath.

“I need a wife that knows how to cook exactly what I want.” Your feet begin to move with impatience. “This mansion holds several kitchens. In about an hour, I expect you all to be downstairs and in your designated kitchen doing just that. I’m not a picky man,” there’s heartfelt laughter from him. “and I cannot wait to try what you all cook for me.” 

The room is quiet again, indicating that the man was done speaking. 

You swallow. You had an hour to get ready and to you, that was more than enough. You worked with as little as five minutes before, an hour was nothing to you.

You start by going to the closet - a large walk in one - that holds clothing that you were told would be in there. You would be cooking, so there isn’t a point to overdress, however, you understood that you can’t look as if you’re at home. Your usual oversized t-shirt and sweats wouldn’t be acceptable. 

You also weren’t going to force yourself into a tight dress to appeal to the eye of the man you’re supposed to be cooking for. It didn't make sense.

The next 30 minutes consisted of you showering and getting ready yourself. You weren’t positive if this was when the man would make his appearance to you all, and you had to be prepared in case he had. 

You stood out amongst the other five women who were all dressed to impress and you would only be a hater to say that they didn’t look nice. Even better than you.

You swallow, casting your eyes ahead of you to look at the women from early; the host.

“An hour to prepare a meal.” the woman states, her hands behind her back as she strolls towards you six. “In your designated kitchen, there would be food already laid out for you. What you do with it is all up to you. Follow me.”

The woman begins to stroll out of the large foyer and down into a hallway where each of you follow her. The mansion is huge indeed, having separate kitchens for each girl to go into. Yours was the third, and immediately you found yourself going to work. 

The kitchen is huge - of course - and has a chandelier right above you hanging from a tall ceiling. The floors are hardwood and pristine and don't creek beneath your feet. On the kitchen island located in the middle of the large kitchen, lay an apron that you proceed to tie around your body. 

You cooked for you and your sister whenever you had the chance to. It was enjoyable at times as you loved cooking for her. Cooking now, however, was a necessity to win. You needed to be the best, and if not, you needed to be damn close to it.

An hour flew past as though it was only five minutes. Your hair, once laid perfectly into a tidy bun, was sweated out a bit. You huffed at your reflection into the knife you were holding upon seeing yourself. 

“Time’s up. Bring your plates of food back to the foyer.” says a voice over the speakers, this time not the man, but the host.

You drop your knife into the sink and turn towards the island where your plate of food sat. You were given steak and did what you thought you could with it, stewing it along with vegetables. You cooked a simple white rice atop of lettuce - you’ve done what you thought you could with what little you had.

“Ladies.” the host says, nodding to you all. “Place your plates right here onto the table.” she says, motioning to the large, glass table behind her. There’s cards that sit about six inches from one another that have each of your names labeled onto them.

“Now, Kim Seokjin-ssi will test them all.” she proceeds to say as each of you gather back into a line.

Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes begin to widen as a man, tall and slender, begins to strut from up the staircase to where you all stood. Your eyes are fixed onto him - as are the other women. Your mouth parts a bit as he bows before all of you, a mop of dark hair bouncing.

“Hello to you all.” the man says, a familiar voice dancing through your ears. The same exact voice of earlier.

Kim Seokjin was not an older man, no. He was young; and maybe you should’ve guessed by his voice. However, he didn’t look a day over 25. His skin was clear of any blemishes and porcelain similar to a doll. His eyes are beady as he looks between the six of you. His lips, plump and pink, form a low smile.

Jin is sporting a solid, black dress shirt that he proceeds to cuff toward his elbows. His dress pants are baggy and brown, however not a wrinkle in sight. You ponder just how much his outfit is, as you were told that wealth such as him doesn’t talk, but whispers.

“Now, let’s see.” Jin says, clapping his hands as he turns away.

Jin eyes the array of food on the table, humming to himself softly. 

It takes 10 minutes for Jin to try it all. Ten long minutes of you all waiting in silence as he eats, nodding his head a few times and then whispering to the host, who would either snicker or respond.

“Siobhan.” Jin speaks, his back not turning to face either of you. The host does, stepping away from Jin. “Come closer, please.”

Siobhan does, her long locks bouncing onto her shoulders as she comes face to face with Jin. He’s a beauty of a man and instantly, your heart jolts. Jealousy, sure, yet you weren’t here for true love. This wasn’t the bachelor. You were here for money and that only.

“Chan-Mi…Luisa…you two, as well.”

Your blood runs cold, your palms beginning to sweat. You’re unsure what Jin is doing - if you’re about to be eliminated or not. Your eyes glance at the other two women left, Zarish and Anjali. You suck in a breath, turning your eyes back to Jin. It would be humiliating to be sent home so early.

“Your food is…”

You swallow as the man slowly turns, his arms now behind his back. The smile on his lips he sported 10 minutes prior had disappeared.

“Lackluster.” Jin murmurs, and instantly his right arm jerks, a dagger held tight into the palm of his hand. He slices Siohban’s throat as quickly as yall all seen it, the woman gasping and clenching onto her neck.

There’s shrieks that erupt around the room as Siohban falls to her knees in a pool of her own blood. Your eyes widen, a hand going to clasp onto your own mouth and the sudden sight before you.

Without much warning, the knife is japped right into Chan-Mi’s stomach, her scream haunting you. You’re frightened where you stand, your eyes wide. 

Luisa is next, but she knows what to expect. She turns to run away, but trips with how terrified she is. She falls onto the ground before she has the chance to go anywhere and Jin lets a hand grab her long, wavy hair. He yanks it back, the dagger slicing right against her throat. Blood squirts out of it, splashing a few feet away from yours. You feel your stomach churn, the sudden need to vomit.

“Do calm down.” Jin says, throwing the knife onto the ground by Siobhan, who’s body appears lifeless. “This is a competition. I know you all aren’t here for love.” Jin scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You’re here for money. I have a lot of it. However…” Jin looks between the remaining three of you.

You were the calmest, however, maybe you were just hiding it. There’s great fear in your eyes that has you startled into silence, only a single tear falling from your eyes. Zarish had fallen to her knees, pushed the farthest away from you and Anjali, who was trembling at the sight.

“...you’re going to have to show me what you’re willing to do for it.”

“I know you three need some time.”

You had proceeded to vomit into the toilet as soon as you entered your bedroom. You thanked the shared bathroom, as you’re unsure how much longer you could last. The heinous sight of murder flashed before your eyes, no matter how hard you attempted to squeeze them shut. 

Your heart pumps with fear. Just an hour ago you stood before three dead bodies - this was real. This wasn’t a dream, nor a prank. The screams of fear coming from you all were real.

Jin had gone on for the next 10 minutes explaining the rules - rules you thought were already given to you. Of course they weren’t. You had gotten yourself into this mess, biting more than you could even chew. There was no “out” of this. Once witnessing bloody murder, Jin had told you three the truth. That there were only two ways out of this twisted game of his. You either had to win and become his wife, or lose and be dead.

There was no leaving alive unless you were the sole winner.

This was a life or death situation now; you were truly fighting for your life.

“But I am in need of a wife as you know. You’ll need to do more than just cook.”

Jin’s voice is taunting you through the speakers. He speaks coolly, as if he hadn’t killed anyone. You ponder just how long he’s done this - and if there is any way out of this at all. Or was this just a sick game where he would eventually kill all of you and repeat the game again.

You proceed to flush the toilet, falling besides it as Jin continues to speak.

“I need a wife that knows how to clean, as well. In an hour, meet in the foyer and await your next challenge.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, body trembling on the cold tile floor. You aren’t sure if you could do this anymore. You’re terrified that you’d be the next to go; it was only three left and it hasn’t even been a day.

Jin’s impatient and he doesn’t wish to wait any longer than he needs. He wants someone now; tonight preferably.

Your eyes snap open, staring straight ahead.

You couldn't afford to die. You weren’t here for just yourself. You had a sister you needed to take care of. 

You took a shower in case it happens to be your last, at least you would know a bit or peace. You are the first to be in the foyer, followed by Zarish. She doesn’t look at you when she arrives, and you cannot blame her. Neither of you wish to be here. The atmosphere has changed from one of lighthearted competition to dreadful act of survival.

Anjali is the last to arrive and the girl's brown eyes are red and puffy from her crying. She’s trembling when she arrives and even though you sympathize with her, you cannot bring yourself to care far too much into it. You had to care about the life of your sister and that was the will you needed to survive this.

“Ladies,” the host claps as she struts into the foyer. “follow me.”

The host makes no attempts in waiting for you all, nor does she stop to acknowledge you three. She takes you down a long hallway until you three stopped behind three separate doors. She proceeds to turn back towards you. Her eyes trail between your faces before she stops at Anjali and scoffs.

“You won’t survive if you keep trembling like that.” she says snarkily. “Behind these doors is your next challenge. As you know…” she stops dramatically to look between you once more. “...Kim Seokjin isn’t just any man. His line of work is different from normal men. That being said.”

The doors are automatic and they open before the host could finish her sentence. 

The sight behind the doors is traumatic. You instantly gag, clenching a hand to your mouth.

Behind your door lies the dead body of Chan-Mi. The room is covered in blood. It’s a single room, all white. White walls and tiled floors that’s stained crimson.

“Jin would like you three to clean the room and get rid of the body.”

Anjali instantly shrieks, her back hitting the wall behind you all. She shakes her head, her hands tugging her hair.

“Please, I-I-”

“You have an hour.” the host interrupts. “Do whatever you think you need to do.”

Inside the room, there’s a timer high onto the wall and close to the ceiling. It ticks down exactly one hour - a short time to clean a murder scene. 

Your mind tries to think back to the true crime shoes you’d watch with your sister on how you could possibly get rid of a body; you never thought you would be in this situation.

You spring into action, making your way down the hall.

“W-Where are you going?” Anjali calls for you, not moving from the wall. 

You don’t answer. You were told to do anything necessary to clean this mess up. For the first time you notice it - the cameras. It’s high and it follows you as you walk. You ponder just how many people are watching you here being forced to commit these criminal acts, now fully engrossed in it. 

You open doors until you find one with cleaning supplies. You take a deep breath, grabbing whatever your arms could hold. 

You work on autopilot, your mind completely blank as you work. You wrapped Chan-Mi’s body in one too many trash bags, refusing to look into her face. Her eyes were open but lifeless like the rest of her.

Dragging a body was harder than the movies made it, placing it right outside of the room and making your way back inside to clean it. You scrub onto your hands and knees, mind remaining blank as you focus on removing the crimson from your sight. 45 minutes, 30 minutes, 20 minutes.

Your heart is pumping outside your chest and your breath heaves as you drag the body down the hallway to the front door. You hadn't had any time to explore the mansion and today wasn’t going to be the day. You had 15 minutes until the challenge was done and you were told to get rid of the body by any means necessary. 

The mansion is quiet and you’re positive Jin, the host and who knows how many other people are watching you now. You open the main doors of the mansion, poking your head out. It’s evening now, the sky has different shades of purple hues. 

You drag Chan-Mi outside, down the stone stairs and towards the side of the house. You’re unsure how long you walked with the body until your legs gave out and you collapsed.

You breathe heavily, your mind regaining and you scream out. It echoes off of the trees, the eerily silence of the mansion adding more terror to your situation.

Focus - you tell yourself.

Remember what you’re doing this for.

Your knees tremble as you stand, fixing your hair. A few strands had fallen from your bun as you were cleaning vigorously. Your eyes scan the area, pondering where you were going to put this body.

Your eyes drag towards a pond and even if your moral compass was eating at you, you understand that this was life or death - for you and your sister.

“A better life…” you murmur to yourself, reaching the pond. “...for me. For us.”

You threw Chan-Mi’s body into the pond. It splashes loudly and all you can think is you hope you’re far enough for anyone to notice far too quickly. It isn’t a lake with running water, so the body would move anywhere. However, the the pond is surrounded by rocks and if far enough, the untrained eye would never notice-

“Are you okay?”

Your body stiffens at the words coming from behind you.

Slowly, you turn, eyes catching onto a man a few feet away. He’s strolling towards you. He’s tall and his cheeks are dimpled.

“I-I…” you’re unable to speak. You immediately get up from your knees and begin to walk towards the man. “...I was just going for a walk.” you speak, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I ended up falling and…made a mess of myself.”

The man reaches you and looks at your appearance. He nods his head with a chuckle. “I can see that. I have never seen you around here.”

“You live around here?” you ask. Where did this man come from and just how did he know you were here? Your palms were already sweaty and you didn’t have time to stay and chat. You had about five minutes until you had to be back at the mansion.

“I do. I hike in the woods all the time.” the man nods his head. “I’m Namjoon.” he raises a hand for you to grab.

You do hesitantly, nodding your head. “Y/N.” you murmur. “I have to get back. It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon.” you say. “Enjoy your hike. I hope you aren’t as clumsy as me.” you attempt to joke, making your way around the man before he can say anything else.

You enter the home quickly, slamming the door behind you. Jin is behind it, almost as if he’s waiting for you.

You stop in your tracks, unable to form words.

“You’re right on time.” Jin says. “The first to arrive.”

You’re exhausted, falling to your knees. You hang your head in defeat.

“I’ve watched you, Y/N.”

Your ears perk at Jin’s words. You hear footsteps coming closer to you.

“We all have.”

“What…how many people?”

“Thousands.” Jin chuckles. “Don’t worry. It’s only the dark web.”

Your blood runs cold once more. You don’t want to ask anymore questions, far too afraid to know anymore.

“You’re becoming a favorite, Y/N.” Jin kneels down to face you. He pats your head as if you’re a puppy, encouraging you to look at him. “The way you got rid of the body and managed to get away from Joon.”

“Joon…” you murmur, the dimpled-cheeked man flashing through your mind. “...you know Namjoon….?”

Of course Jin did. There wasn’t any home for miles. How else would you be caught in such a situation ? Maybe that was a part of their plan, to try and get you to confess what was truly going on in hopes that you would look for a way out.

You clench your eyes shut and release a shaky sob.

“You won this round, Y/N. Come,” Jin offers out his hand for you to take. “Let's get you ready for the final round. I hope you didn’t like Anjali as much.” Jin begins to laugh heartily. “You won’t be seeing her for the final challenge.”

You weren’t told by Jin how long you had until the final round. You were in the shower once more, this time sitting on the shower floor and allowing the water to run down your body. Your eyes are closed, and as much as you tried, you cannot get your mind to go blank. 

It was a lot for one person to handle in just one single day.

You wished you understood more about Jin and the dark web. You’ve heard about the dark web before and the last thing you ever desired was to be a part of it. It brought chills up your spine to just think about how many eyes are on you and what those eyes are involved in themselves.

You finally got out of the shower once the water began to run cold. You wrap a towel around you, your wet feet strolling towards the large, round mirror inside of the bathroom. Your eyes watch yourself, however not truly seeing yourself. It’s as though you’re witnessing a shell of yourself.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. You want to laugh bitterly at the unfortunate circumstances that you are dealt with  - and just how much of a terrible person you were becoming because of them. Was this real life or a nefarious dream you fell into due to slumber?

There’s a knock that sounds at your bathroom door that causes you to flinch, startled. 

You take a few moments to answer, instead choosing to listen quietly, unsure who would be behind the door at such a vulnerable moment you were in now. 

“It’s me.”

Jin.

You feel goosebumps liter your arms at his voice. Still, your mind cannot embrace the fact that Kim Seokjin, someone so beautiful as him, is a part of this. Involved with not just this twisted game of survival, but the dark web, as well; which is an iceberg itself.

Your hand wraps around the cold doorknob and you slowly twist it open, cracking it open so you can peek out at the man. He offers a curt grin, his head slightly tilting. 

“It’s dawning on you, isn’t it?” Jin questions vaguely. “That this is real life and not some sort of nightmare?”

Your heart jolts and you swallow your words. It’s as if he took the thoughts right out of your mind.

“It’s far too late in wanting to drop out of the competition.” Jin murmurs. “I’m sure you know why.”

You wouldn’t be able to leave here alive - you’re well aware.

Slowly, you nod your head, slightly opening the door a little wider.

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jin takes a few steps back and it’s then you realize that he changed from his attire earlier, to a black suit. “This…can weigh heavy on people such as you.”

“What do you mean people such as me?” you question low. You proceed to open the door fully, your towel tightly around your frame.

Jin begins to stroll away from you and proceeds to take a seat onto your bed. A shame you haven’t truly had the time to lay in it, but he doesn’t wish to extend the games. For months, he had women come in and out - all failing. He wants this game to end tonight, and there’s only two opponents left. He surely hopes either you or Zarish would be the one to end his suffering in having to do this - and he can go home with a wife.

“It’s obvious you aren’t…part of this lifestyle.” Jin looks up at you now, brown eyes giving your undivided attention. “You and Zarish aren’t doing this for love, either.”

“Are you?” you’re bold enough to ask, your right hand holding the top of your towel tightly. “You do this…often?”

Jin snickers. “Unfortunately,” he nods. “no one has won as of yet. This is why it appears the challenges are a bit fast paced.”

You sit in the doorway of the bathroom awkwardly as you await for him to continue speaking.

“Why are you doing this?” Jin questions. “What made you want to come here?”

“I didn’t think I would have to hide a body.” you say truthfully, a bit of sadness in your voice. “I didn’t think I would be fighting for survival, either.”

“I do apologize.” Jin says, yet you don’t hear any sincerity in his words. “It wasn’t my idea of presenting the game as a bachelor type.”

You nod your head. Of course there were others involved, deeper than just Jin and Namjoon.

“What are you fighting for, Y/N?” Jin proceeds to dig deeper. “What do you have to live for?”

Jin’s eyes are intense as he awaits an answer from you. It causes you to look away, goosebumps growing even harder onto your skin. You nearly forgot that you were naked beneath this towel and semi-wet. 

“I have a sister.” you say truthfully. There isn’t a point of lying now. This could also be a test to see if you were going to be truthful or not. If Jin had ties to the dark web, who knows what else he’s apart. “And I needed money…”

“I see.” Jin hums. “Everyone has their reasonings.”

“Can I ask yours?”

Jin is intrigued. Zarish wasn’t much of a speaker, yet he couldn’t blame her. Her demeanor is colder than it once was when she arrived, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. There were two contestants and a final round.

“You…there has to be a reason why you’re doing all of this, right?” you lean against the door frame. “You can’t have a hard time finding a wife.”

Jin’s lips twitch upward.

“Observant.” Jin nods. “I can get a wife anywhere. But…” Jin spreads his legs a bit. “Where’s the fun in that?”

There’s a sinister way in which Seokjin laughs.

“Sure, you didn’t come here for love. That doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t grow to love one another, right?”

The question strikes you as odd, seeing as this was still a competition.

“If you win, of course.” Jin adds, as if reading your thoughts yet again. “You’re already a fan favorite, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

You exhale.

“Do you want it?”

Your attention is brought back to Jin.

“Do you want a better life?” Jin continues. “Do you want it enough to fight for it? There's only one more round left, Y/N.” Jin prods on, his eyes roaming your face for any emotion. “Show me you want to survive, Y/N.”

You find yourself in front of Jin now, who awaits for you to do something. Anything.

You wanted nothing more than to survive this - not for just your sake, but for your sister. Her life depended on yours, and maybe that was all the will you needed to survive this. 

“I do want this.” you murmur, unsure of what you’re now doing kneeling before him as he sits onto your bed. Your right cheek sit lightly against his knee. 

“I know.” Jin answers. “I can see it in your eyes. It’s easier to do the things you do if you tell yourself it’s for someone else.”

Maybe being an accomplice to a murder was easier if you told yourself you were doing this for your sister.

You hum.

“Get dressed.” Jin says, a soft hand laying on your left cheek. “The final round will be starting soon. Make yourself presentable.”

You remove your cheek from his knee just as Jin stands to his feet. He looks down upon your vulnerable figure but doesn’t say another word as he saunters out of the room. You watch his figure leave sullenly, a coldness running through you as you felt alone, but knew that you weren’t truly.

“This is crazy, don’t you think?” you murmur to Zarish. “That only one of us can survive this?”

Zarish offers a glance, the soft music playing in the background of the large ballroom. All surrounded by people who are associated with Kim Seokjin himself.

“We…can both survive this.” you say to her, taking a sip of your glass of champagne. You offer a few smiles to guests. “We can both escape before anyone notices us.”

After Jin had left your room, you continued to sit onto the ground by the large bed for what felt like hours until you finally got to your feet to get ready for the next challenge. You weren’t sure what presentable was, but you only had what was in the large closet to choose from. All dresses ranging from long to short.

You grabbed a short dress, stopping at your knees. You opted for this incase you were getting into something that involved you moving a body again - or running for your life. You only had heels to choose from, but you chose a pair that would be easy to get out of if needed be. 

You decided to fix your hair to the same bun as before, this time neater and allow a few strands of hair to be released, twirling your finger around it a few times to allow it to curl.

There’s another knock that sounds, this time on your bedroom door. You stand a bit straighter before strolling to the door and opening it.

“It’s time.” the host says, dressed differently. A wine colored floor dress that hugs her curves. On the right side is a slit that rides all the way up to her mid thigh. “You have five minutes to meet everyone downstairs in the main hall.”

“E-Everyone?” you speak up, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes.” the host nods. “The final round is to impress not only Kim Seokjin, but those who associates with. You’re attempting to be a wife, correct?”

You nod, a bit dumbfounded. 

“Okay then. Here is your moment.” the host turns to walk away. “Don’t let these people see you be frightened. They’ll eat you up and spit you out if so.”

The host’s footsteps get quieter as she descends down the carpeted hallway. You take a deep breath as you replay her advice - or warning - in your head. You take another deep breath before following her down the hallway.

You can hear faint music along with chattering voices. You suppose this was the final challenge, and maybe the most nerve wracking one of it all. You barely knew Seokjin, so being surrounded by people such as him was just as terrifying. 

You decide to follow the music down to the far right of the foyer and down a dim-lit hallway until you reach the large ballroom. It’s surrounded with people - all wearing masquerade-like masks. You felt anxious being surrounded by them, unsure how to truly handle it all.

The ballroom is designed just as elegant and expensive as the rest of the mansion. Its lights are lit dim just as the hallway, but the candles add a bit more flickering light to it all; a sinister type of feeling, however. There’s round tables with white tables clothed all throughout the ballroom, with four chairs each. Only a few people were seated as they chatted amongst each other, while the rest were standing.

There’s flowers, all white, on each table. As well as hanging from the ceiling besides large chandeliers that aren’t shining to their full potential.

“Y/N.”

Your head turns to the sound of your name. A masked figure stands tall besides you, his face fully covered by the gold mask. The candles surrounding the room dance off of his mask.

“I-I…”

The man raises a hand to his mask and lifts it, and instantly you recognize the man just by half of his face, dimples poking out. It’s Namjoon, and he speaks when he takes the mask off fully. 

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well.” you say shyly, glancing around the room. “You…are a part of this?”

Namjoon chuckles with a quick shoulder shrug. “Sure,” he responds. “You managed to be quite a fan favorite.” he says to change the subject.

You scoff to yourself. “Of the dark web?” you question. “I’m not sure how to handle that.”

“No one ever truly does.” Namjoon answers. “You have my vote.”

“Vote?” you ask, just as Namjoon puts his mask back over his face. “All of these people have to vote…?”

Namjoon nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you.” you murmur.

Namjoon’s vote is just one of hundreds.

“Follow me.” you tell Zarish, your eyes roaming around the large room to find no one you recognized. You find that those with gold masks were the ones who held higher importance. “Let’s get out of here while everyone is distracted.”

You grabbed Zarish’s hand in your own and tugged her along. You managed to get out of the large ballroom and into the quiet hallway. Your heels click along the marble floor, as does hers. 

“Where are we going?” Zarish  sputtered, her head turning back to the party for a moment before looking ahead at you.

The plan had hit you an hour in. You had met more people, all who spoke to you behind their respected masks. You were polite to them, even engaging in light conversations before you were onto the next; none of them being Jin. You suppose he was watching you from the shadows, awaiting for when the votes would be announced.

Zarish was a beautiful girl, tall with long black hair that she had tucked in a low ponytail. Her dress is floor length and lavender-colored. 

You go past the foyer to down the other side of the hall. It’s familiar to you both, where you had gone just hours before to clean the dead bodies of former contestants.

You drop Zarish’s hands when you reach one of the large kitchens. You turn to her. “Grab a weapon.” 

“A weapon?” Zarish whispers with wide eyes. “W-Why-”

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realize we’re both gone?” you say, your heels clanking against the tiled floors of the kitchen as you search the drawers for a knife.

Zarish doesn’t say anything, but she’s visibly nervous. She goes to the other side of the large kitchen to find a weapon.

Your reflections glare in one of the large cutting knives. You grasp your hand around the handle and lift it up.

“Why are you here?” you ask Zarish as she opens one drawer. “For money?”

Zarish nods her head, her hands clenching the sides of the drawer.

“My father is sick.” she responds, releasing a soft sop. “If I would’ve known I was coming to this…”

You sympathize with her. You take a few steps closer to her until you’re behind her, your free hand on the short of her back.

“My sister,” you speak, taking a deep breath. “I came for her. To give us both a better life.”

Zarish nods slowly.

“I don’t think any of us knew…” you don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you clench your eyes shut. 

“I…I just want to get out of here.”

Zarish’s voice cracks when she speaks. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not now. She sniffles and turns around to face you. “Y/N, I-”

It takes all the will in you to jab the knife right into her stomach. It was nothing personal to her. You held no ill intent towards her, and if there was truly a way out of here, surely you and she would’ve managed.

Maybe in a perfect world there was. You and she ran off into the arms of safety - yet this was reality. There were cameras watching your every move.

Zarish doesn’t put up a fight. Possibly death was easier than fighting her way out of here. The saddened look in her eyes does reach yours, yet she doesn’t say anything in protest.

You remove the knife from her stomach, her hands going to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m going to help your father.” you murmur, driving the knife repeatedly back into her stomach several times. Each time is met with a gasp from the woman. “So in a way, you being here isn’t completely a loss.”

You’re completely covered in blood by the time you’re done, Zarish’s lifeless body on the pristine floors. Her blood soaks into your dress. You drop the knife and it clunks loudly on impact.

You make your way out of the kitchen and down the familiar hall towards the foyer and back to the ballroom. It’s as if no one has truly noticed you and Zarish are gone. 

You stop at the doorway of the ballroom, the blood staining your hands. Your eyes search for Jin and you’re sure you found him. His mask is the only mask that stands out, a silver color. It appears as if he’s watching you from the eyeholes of the mask.

You walk towards him, your mind focusing on him and only him. The people appear to be quiet now as you walk past them, allowing you to stroll without a problem.

You stop just a few short feet away from Jin, panting heavily now.

“You told me,” you begin, your eyes never wavering. “that if i wanted to win…if I wanted a better life…” you swallow. “...I’d have to show you.”

Jin’s right hand reaches up towards the silver mask. Slowly, he lifts it from his face. His expression is an emotionless one, but it’s easier to speak with him now that you can see his eyes. 

“What did you do?” Jin questions, though he’s positive he has an idea.

“I killed her.” you respond. “She…” 

Your thoughts speak at you all at once. You tilt your head a bit. 

“She was going to run away.” you mumble. “She…told me to go with her. I did.” you admit half of the truth, because did it truly matter now? “...then I killed her. There isn’t a way out of here, right?” you ask Jin. “We would have both been dead. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to win.”

Jin’s dark eyes watch you from where he stands. Slowly, your sanity was dripping away and in such a short amount of time. 

Rosy plump lips grin towards you and that alone causes your heart to leap. 

“Come,” Jin announces, his hand waving you over. 

Widening your eyes, you do as you’re told. You round the large table and come besides Jin, behind him a few bodies you were not aware of, all dawning gold masks.

Jin goes into his pocket and grasps a small, square box. “Congratulations, Y/N.” Jin speaks, opening the box to reveal a ring inside of it. It’s quite different from a ring you’d expect as a wedding ring, yet this whole situation alone was. It has a gold band that surrounds itself with diamonds while an oval emerald diamond sits right in the middle of it, smaller silver diamonds outlining the oval shape.

“We have no time to waste.” Jin removes the ring from the box and holds it up. “Give me your hand.”

You watch in slight awe as Jin slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a surreal feeling in knowing that you won this twisted game he has forced you into. A game that lasted only a few hours, but felt like weeks on end.

There’s clapping that sounds throughout the ballroom and for a moment, you nearly forgot that it wasn’t just you and Jin in the room. 

A man with a gold mask comes forward, papers in hand. It wasn’t Namjoon, you note, as the man wasn’t as tall.

“Come,” Jin wraps a hand around your waist. “let’s sign these documents.”

Jin doesn’t waste any time in handing you your own pen to sign a few documents that he doesn’t allow you to read. All of your signatures were right besides his, already pre-signed. 

You aren’t nervous about signing your life away. Afterall, it isn’t everyday that you go through such trials and tribulations to assure you live long enough to see yourself be married.

That, and murder someone for the first time. Maybe tomorrow when your reality dawns on you would you actually break down. As of now, your mind remains blank and you’re working on autopilot. 

There’s a hand that catches you out of your thoughts. It’s holding a clear champagne glass full of slightly bubbling liquid.

You grasp the glass from one of the men sporting a gold mask. He holds another one out for Jin who also takes it. Jin holds his glass up for you to clank against his in a toast.

“To Y/N and I,” Jin announces, his dark eyes reaching yours. “to death do us part.” he says, a more sinister meaning behind the words.

There’s more cheering as you lift the champagne to your lips and sip, as does Jin. His eyes never leave you. He finds that even if you’re possibly in shock now, the reality not fully sinking in yet and covered in blood, he finds you beautiful. 

Maybe it’s also because in a short amount of time, you’ve managed to succumb to a bit of madness, realizing that if you wanted to survive all of this meant that you had to do what you possibly didn’t want to.

“A lot to handle in just one day?” Jin murmurs your way, leaning down a bit. There’s chattering throughout the entirety of the ballroom.

“Yeah.” you nod your head in agreement. “I…became a killer?” you’re unsure how else to put it.

Jin chuckles at your cuteness. “In a way,” he responds. “the best has yet to come.”

You aren’t sure exactly what he meant, but you were going to find out.

Your body warms in a matter of minutes and slowly, you begin to relax. You were already eerily calm as if you hadn’t murdered an innocent woman. Yet, you felt even calmer - was that possible?

It was as if your body was shooting serotonin boosts throughout you and you were becoming relaxed.

Happy even.

“You,”

Seokjin’s voice sounded so close to you as you down the rest of the champagne. Your throat was throbbing for more, thirst growing throughout you.

“are in for a long ride.” Seokjin finishes as he places a hand on the low of your back. Dangerously low that it shooks electricity right up your spine.

“Am I?” you question, turning a bit to look at him. His lips are curled slightly and beady eyes are already watching you.

“Indeed you are.” Seokjin murmurs. He takes a curt sip of his bubbling champagne before he presses the glass to your lips. You open your mouth to drink the remaining of it, your eyes unblinking from Seokjin’ - almost as if in a trance.

“There’s things people like us do.” Seokjin’s fingers tap along your back. “The elites.”

“Elites?”

Seokjin begins to stroll and he keeps you close to him. The room is crowded as it has been for a while, yet you remain close to Seokjin as if it was just the two of you. The room is loud with chattering voices that you cannot make out in any conversation, but even then you only hear Seokjin as he speaks.

“Powerful people like me.” 

Jin steers you towards a tall door that opens upon arrival by another masked figure who waits right beside it. The masked man bows to Jin and you as the two of you stroll through the door and down the long, carpeted hallway.

“These…parties?” you question. You rock your head side to side a bit, your hand coming up to wipe your forehead of a light trail of sweat. “Is everyone here elites?”

Jin nods his head. “Everyone once in a while, we all come together.” he murmurs. For an odd reason, the carpeted hallway appears entirely too long. At the end of said hallway is a pair of double doors that match the ones you and he walked through. “It’s like a secret society.”

“Secret society…” you trail off. You blink a few times when you and Jin reach the end of the hallway, your mind thinking a million questions at once. “...what do you guys do…?”

You got your answer quicker than you realized. The door is opened by Jin and he pushes you in gently. Your eyes trail over the large room. The carpet is the same crimson red as the hallway, though this time there’s gold patterns. The tall walls appear to be stone and now you realize just how enclosed this room is.

Moans and squeals fill the room, naked bodies all over the place. You and Jin’s entrance goes unnoticed by the sea of people engaging in sexual activity. Right in the middle of the large room are a group of women engaging in oral sex, their manicured hands roaming one anothers naked bodies.

Jin notices the way you push yourself closer to him and his arm around you holds you a bit tighter. He leans down a bit to murmur to you. 

“Sometimes we come together and have a little fun.” Jin responds.

Within the sea of naked bodies, there’s still a few - men - that are covered. You noticed the gold masks that are similar to the ones Jin and Namjoon wore. Fully clothed and lingering in the area.

In the corner of the room, there’s a group of people fucking. A few naked bystanders watch, one woman's head on another's shoulders as if they were watching their favorite show. Your eyes watch the way the man fucks the woman with such earnest and need. 

As if they were the only two in the room.

“Takes a lot to get used to this world.” Jin’s voice sends shivers down your spine and it knocks you back into reality. “You are an elite now.”

You swallow, eyes slowly widening at the words before you shake your head a bit. You bite your lip as you continue to survey the area. Were all these people elites? Is this what the ultra wealthy did? Partake in sex parties?

It shouldn’t catch you by surprise. You recall Namjoon’s words from earlier on how he voted for you. This was another part of the world of the elite. A game. After watching you all engage in a sick game of survival, they come here and fuck one another brains out.

You take a deep breath. There wasn’t any turning back now. Your dress is still covered in Zarish’s blood, staining the expensive material. Your mind is swirling and your core is telling you that possibly you drank more than just champagne.

“You look tense, Y/N.” Jin rubs your back softly. “You should unwind.”

“Unwind…how?” you question low. You could guess how. The sea of people all surrounding you two, all engaging in different sexual positions. “Jin?”

“Hm?” Jin hums. His long fingers appear to tap along your back as he awaits for you to answer him.

“Zarish,” you begin, swallowing a bit. Your mind was swirling and you didn’t want to forget what you had promised her prior to what you’ve done. “I…I promised her…”

Jin blinks, perfect eyelashes fluttering. “That you’d help her sick father?”

You knit your brows. 

“I know everything about all my contestants.” Jin continues with a curt nod of his head. “You remain so noble, Y/N. My wife.” Jin’s fingers dance up your spine until they stop at the nape of your neck. “Whatever you set out to do, I will allow it. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Your head turns just in time to catch the figure that struts towards you. The gold mask comes to your line of vision and all you can think of was Jin and Namjoon. You do not move, even when the masked man stops directly in front of you and offers a bit of a head tilt. You cannot see his eyes and the eye holes of the golden mask appear like an endless dark hole.

“Y/N this is-”

“Jimin.”

The masked man speaks, his voice muffled a bit behind the golden mask. His hand lifts up to remove the mask, an act that appears taboo in a place such as this, but possibly he does it as an act of familiarity.

The man that comes from behind the golden mask has the same level of beauty as Jin and Namjoon, a pair of dark eyes staring back at you and a low grin that shows ulterior motives.

Jimin…

The man’s pearly white smile captivates you for a second too long that when he holds his hand out for you to take, you’re standing a bit dumbfounded.

“It’s nice to get the chance to meet you, Y/N.” Jimin’s voice sounds like honey - sweet and sugary. “My name is Jimin. Park,” Jimin, once you place your hand in his surprisingly soft and calloused-free ones, lifts it to his mouth. They’re a bit glossy, you note. “Jimin.” he says after he pecks your hand.

Your head slowly turns to Jin who’s already watching. He doesn’t say anything about Jimin’s actions and instead takes a step back, as if to allow you to do as you pleased.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” you murmur meekly. Your thighs pressed together firmly, the surrounding moans mixed with skin slapping was too much. How could they ignore the sex surrounding them?

They were elites, your mind tells you. They do this often.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jimin allows your hand to drop, but he doesn’t step away.

“Yes…?” you glance around a bit. One girl is on her knees not too far away. Her mouth was occupied and so were her hands.

“Is that a question?” Jimin chuckles. He turns his head behind him to follow your gaze. “This must be a lot for you.”

All you can feel is your body burning up. You release a short huff. The room was stuffy and even this dress was feeling a bit too tight.

“I have never been a part of…”

“An Orgy.” Jimin chuckles, his laughter just as sweet as his voice that it causes you to melt a bit.

You proceed to glance towards Jin again. Just what was he doing standing and watching you for?

“Would you like to?”

Jin doesn’t answer for you, not even when your eyes meet his for any form of guidance.

You’re sure you don’t have a choice, you think. You were brought here for a reason. The blood on your dress was the reminder of the choice you made. The papers you’ve signed and the ring Jin put on your finger.

Slowly, you nod your head. 

You wanted this, you told yourself.

You’ve killed for this.

“Champagne?” 

There’s another voice this time. It’s as though you were hypnotized by Jimin that you had not realized another golden masked man stopped directly beside you. He holds out a single glass of bubbling champagne for you to take. You do, placing the glass against your lips and proceeding to downing the drink. You lick your lips as the masked man takes it from you.

“Turn around.”

That’s Jimin talking. You do, your heels falling silent against the carpeted floor. You’re now facing Jin. He’s leaning against the stone wall, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Jimin’s hands are on your back and you could feel it loosening. He begins to unzip the dress slowly, bringing up anticipation. Your head tilts a bit, your breathing increasing.

“Not participating today?” 

Jimin isn’t speaking with you. The masked man who brought you the champagne responds. 

“Maybe later. I just want to watch for now.”

Your dress  falls to your ankles. You don’t feel cold, even when the goosebumps erupt through your bare skin. Your body grows even hotter, especially with how close the unknown masked man and Jimin were to you.

“Congratulations on your engagement Y/N.” Jimin murmurs from behind you.

“And to Jin-hyung.”

Jin’s eyes blink away to look at the two men behind you. He offers a curt nod to them.

There’s hands onto your body now and a pair of lips on your neck. They move entirely too fast for you to process. Your eyes flutter and it’s becoming difficult to keep your eyes on Jin. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve sampled something new.”

You catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eyes. The gold mask that falls to the floor. 

Jimin’s index finger hooks beneath your chin and pulls your face his way. His lips are centimeters away from you and before he could place his lips upon yours, you pull your face away.

Was this what Jin meant? Was he going to sit and watch you the entire time?

Jin’s eyes connect with yours for a moment and he only nods his head. His arms are crossed over his chest now.

Gradually, you begin to turn your head back towards Jimin. He hadn’t moved from his position and once he realized you were willing now, he placed his lips upon yours. They’re soft and have a faint taste of strawberries.

There’s a pair of large hands that grip at your skin as your lips dances with Jimin’s. Your body radiates more heat as if you’re a furnace and you cannot help the choked moan that dies down in your throat. Maybe it was because you knew Jin was watching you the entire time. Maybe it was because you’re just another body in a sea of people all doing the same.

Jimin releases your lips, but that doesn’t mean you are done. Your face is yanked to the left and you finally come face to face with the other man. He’s just as beautiful as Jimin and the rest of them. His eyes are dark and his lips are thin as the kiss along your jaw. The unknown man was rougher than Jimin, his large hand cupping your neck to pull you closer to him.

“Taehyung.” the man says, his voice deep and raspy that you clench around nothing upon hearing it. As if reading your mind, he introduces himself before his own lips are on yours. He forces your mouth open, his tongue exploring your mouth.

“Champagne, sir?”

Jin turns his eyes to the naked woman with a tray of champagne. She doesn’t look directly in his eyes as she awaits for him to dismiss her or take the champagne offered. He does, long fingers hooking around the glass and he nods his head to dismiss her. She strolls away, naked body swaying into the sea of people.

Jin brings the bubbling liquid to his lips, eyes darting back to you. You were a mess already, Taehyung and Jimin not being known to waste any time. You were already out of your bra and it lay discarded on the ground. Taehyung has a mouth full of your left nipple, large hands aggressively gripping and tugging on your breast as he suckles.

Jimin’s hand find their way between your legs that he shoves apart. He doesn't bother to tear your panties off just yet, his fingers working your clit as his tongue twirls over your right nipple.

Your moans do not go unnoticed by Jin, even in a room full of squeals, slapping skin and aggressive moaning. They’re like honey - sweet and curt and entirely new to his ears. He licks his lips, taking another sip of champagne.

It’s entirely too fast for you to process, you think. The way Taehyung was rough and dominant while Jimin was the exact opposite. He was more teasing, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit while his tongue flickers your nipple dangerously slow. 

You don’t attempt to contact your moans and even your body begins to feel heavy. You’re leaning entirely onto Jimin, but the man doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. 

“S-Slow down-”

Taehyung’s teeth graze your nipple as he pops it from his mouth. His eyes look upwards at you and he grunts. “No.” he says. “We’re preparing you for hyung.”

You gasp when Jimin’s finger skims across your hole, teasing you even more. He chuckles a bit, a cool laugh because he knows just how much you want his fingers in you.

“Get you nice and ready to be fucked.” Jimin sing-songs, his contrast compared to Taehyung a true eye opener. 

“Table.” Taehyung says, and before you have the chance to process, you feel yourself being lifted off your feet.

You yelp when your back slams against something cold and hard. Your eyes dance around the large table, already occupied with people, yet you were the center of it. To your right were women who were being watched by other masked men - not golden masks - as they performed several sex acts.

“Take these off.” Taehyung tugs at your panties, snatching them away from your wet core and down your legs. He doesn’t bother to toss them anywhere near you and instead discards them behind his shoulders. “Let’s see how wet you are, huh?”

“Pretty wet.” Jimin says from beside Taehyung, placing a few of his fingers in his mouth and sucks them.

Taehyung’s hand slaps against your inner thighs once he shoves them apart. You squeal, the action causing a jolt of pleasure right through you. 

“We’ll make you even wetter.”

It’s Taehyung that acts first, long fingers inching inside of you. Your back arches when he begins to pound them inside of you so roughly that you barely have time to react. Beside him Jimin holds your right leg while Taehyung your left, both eyes trained on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers.

Jin emerges right behind you on the table, another glass of champagne in his hand. He looks down at your face - fucked out expression with fluttering eyes and flushed skin. There’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth that trails down your jaw.

“You must want a cock in you, Y/N. You’re milking all over Tae’s palm!” Jimin chuckles, squeezing your thigh.

“No fair!”

Jin knows the voice of his dongsaeng. The whiny familiar voice of Jeon Jungkook as he appears, mask dangling from his shoulders. 

“You didn’t wait for me!”

Taehyung’s pump slows a bit as he turns to the younger man with a roll of his eyes. He releases a sigh. “You were late.”

“I was busy.”

Jungkook meets your glossy gaze and he grins. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook leans closer to you. “I’ve voted for you since the beginning.”

“You’re ruining the moment, Kook. Do something or go.” Jimin hisses, with a soft glare.

“I plan to.” Jungkook pushes Taehyung away. “You’re doing nothing but teasing her. I’ll be making her cum.”

The three of them together always caused competition - Jungkook being the most competitive of the trio. Jin doesn’t say anything and he’s a bit amused when you sigh meekly.

Jungkook takes Taehyung’s place between your legs, forcing your right leg into place so you cannot move away from him. He offers you a short wink before lowering himself to your clit. 

Your thighs jolt to close, but with Jimin and Jungkook, they don’t. Jungkook’s tongue is warm and it licks between your folds rather aggressively. 

Taehyung isn’t amused by being taken over by Jungkook, but he isn’t going to fight him. Not now, at least. Instead, he places his fingers inside your gasping mouth.

Tasting your arousal was something you’d never thought you do - yet, neither was being an “elite” and partaking in…orgies? Especially while your soon to be husband watched above you. 

However, it all appears to be a dream. You aren’t bothered being completely naked by three unknown men you all met today while one eats you out as if he has something to prove.

Your eyes roll as there’s another set of fingers pumping inside of you now all the while Jungkook’s warm tongue continues to suckle onto your clit. Your chest heaves as it was all too much now. You’re unsure who’s hand is gripping at your breast, their thumb flicking your nipple, but you’re sure it’s Jimin.

Jin can feel his cock twitching from his suit pants. He drops the empty glass onto the table and leans closer to you, cloudy eyes on the way your breast bounces as your hips jerk against Jungkook’s tongue, pussy squeezing around his fingers.

“She’s so fucked out.” Taehyung chuckles, removing his fingers from your mouth so he trails them down towards your breast. 

“I think she’s about to cum.” sing-song Jimin. 

“Are you ready for her, hyung?” asks Taehyung.

“I didn’t make her cum yet.” Jungkook groans, fingers pumping inside of you. Your juices coat his palm and he’s entirely enthralled by how sopping wet you are.

“We’re just warming her up.” 

Jungkook groans. There’s nothing more he hates than to leave a woman in such a manner. He removes his fingers and sighs with a shake of his head. “Maybe next time.” he says with a cute pout. It’s then you notice the piercing on his lip. “Hyung.”

You lay flat against the table now, chest heaving. Your thighs quiver and you can barely keep your eyes open now. Your high was slowly coming down, but even then did you feel the electricity through your veins.

“Time to consummate the marriage!” 

Jimin’s voice dances through your ears.

“Y/N,”

You open your eyes to see Jin right in front of you. His head is tilted and he appears to wait for you to be fully coherent before he speaks again.

“Welcome to the elites.” Jin says, taking a step closer between your legs.

You exhaled a shaky breath, unanswering.

Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook stand around, their own glasses of champagne in their hand and they down them one by one.

Your low eyes watch as Jin begins to loosen his belt from around his waist.

“Enjoy your night tonight, boys.” Jimin says, lifting his third glass of champagne. His eyes turn from Jungkook to Taehyung. “There’s a long work week ahead of us.”

They carry on their own conversation that goes on deaf ears when Jin places both hands onto your waist and pulls you closer towards him. 

“You aren’t going to remember this tomorrow.” Jin murmurs. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I’ll manage.” you murmur back, a hand reaching out to grab at his suit. “Please fuck me.”

Jin chuckles at your filthy words but he was going to do exactly what you asked.

“I have a million on one match in Paris.” Taehyung says. “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

Jin’s cock is leaking pre-cum when he releases it from his underwear, his suit pants dropping by his ankles. 

“Your pussy is pretty.” Jin comments. “I’m glad you won the game, Y/N. You fit into this world greatly.”

Jin enters you without much warning, but your pussy is so wet that it isn’t a problem. The stretch is good, a low groan deep in your throat.

Jin begins to pound into you, his aggressive thrusts only adding to the other around the large room. His eyes watch the way your breast bounces beneath him. He hooks your legs around his waist for a deeper entrance. 

Witnessing the way you submit fully to him and allowing yourself to be pleasured by his dongsaengs caused a deep desire to grow within him.  In all ways but one, you were the one he needed. The endless games he partaken in to assure he found the perfect wife had led him to you.

Your pussy grips Jin’s cock with such need. It’s as if it’s been waiting for him this entire time like a missing puzzle piece. He never wants to stop, he thinks. You’re beautiful underneath the dim lights of the room, eyes dark and clouded with temptation, lust and intoxication. 

“You’re gonna cum before I do.” Jin grumbles, his fingernails digging into the skin of your hips. He snaps his hips roughly, the table long moving erratically beneath the two of you. “Go ahead and let go, Y/N.”

You’re flipped, your front slammed against the cold table.You come face to face with Jungkook, who’s eyes sparkle a bit, but you don’t have the time to talk. Jin enters you once more, pounding so deep inside of you. Your hands reach out to hold anything on the table and find nothing - until Jimin takes your hand and allows you to squeeze.

“I have to go to Japan.” Jimin says, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand encouragingly as his hyung fucks you without a care in the world. “Meeting with politicians.”

“Ugh, boring.” Jungkook leans back, arms behind his head as he listens to Jimin speak.

“F-Fuck.” you shake your head, stomach churning with the familiar feeling from early - the one you lost when Jungkook was forced away from you.

“Let go,Y/N. Cum all over me.” Jin says darkly, his fingernails were going to leave bruises on your skin when he was done with you. 

Your ass slams against his abdomen, his pounds growing harder and harder by the second. 

“To the newlyweds.” Taehyung raises yet another glass of champagne, his words slurred a bit.

You’re seeing white this time, juices pooling out and down your thighs. You squeeze Jimin’s hand in your own, a spew of curse words leaving your lips.

Jin isn’t done - not yet. He continues fucking into you while you squirm underneath him. It was all too much to handle, the overstimulation beginning to hurt a bit. However, the pain felt good and even you found that you were going to cum once more.

“I’m going to take you to our home and fuck you even more.” Jin’s sloppy thrust indicates that he was just as wrecked as you were. A hand takes your hair and forces you back so he can place his plump lips besides your ear. “Y/N…my wife…” Jin groans, milky seeds erupting inside of you so deep. It’s just as hot as you feel, filling you to the brim entirely.

You drop back onto the table with an exhausted huff, eyes fluttering close. Jin remains inside of  you, his cum pooling out and filling you up at both a rabid and slow pace. Sweat pools the corner of your forehead and you are about done with the night.

“To the newlyweds.” Jungkook claps his hands together. “I can’t wait for the wedding.”

“To think it took this long for you to find the perfect one.” Jimin states. You are asleep now. Still naked and on top of the table, weariness taking over your body completely. “One manipulative little bitch she is for tricking that girl. I like her.”

Jin agrees. He pulls his pants up and tightens his belt just as before. “Whatever it takes to win.” he says, placing a hand onto your head and rubbing a bit. “She’ll fit right in.”

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the cozy café, the kind of place that hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional clatter of ceramic cups. Lizzie sat in the corner, tucked into her usual spot by the window,  her mind was elsewhere.

The Laptop was open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but the words…the words refused to come. 

Instead, she sipped at her now lukewarm tea, absentmindedly, running her fingers through Mara’s soft fur. Mara’s chocolate coloured head was resting on Lizzie’s knee, watching her, her tail rhythmically thumping against the floor. 

They often came here..nearly every day, to be exact. 

Elizabeth Treshton’s life was built around her routine after all. 

She knew the exact number of steps from her apartment to the cozy coffee shop on the corner. She knew the best seat—by the window, tucked away, where Mara could curl up at her feet while she wrote. And she knew the barista always had her order memorized: earl grey tea with a dash of milk, one sugar, and a small bowl of water for Mara.

They knew them both. They knew not to bother Mara while working, even when it looked like the dog wasn’t working. She was. 

Mara told Lizzie when her body once again decided that having seizures was something it should do and then stayed with her through the whole…shitty ordeal that were said epileptic seizures. 

Still, they thrived on their usual routine. And they hadn’t been able to have that for weeks, because Lizzie had been busy with all the publicity surrounding An Autumn of Flames and Stone and the fact that her little book had reached No. 1 of the New York Times Bestselling list. 

Which meant…that she now got to write the last book in the Seasons of Fate Series…Something that she never thought she would get to do. 

This had been her dream since she was a child…and now…now she finally got to do this. This was her job! Her dream job!

And if this chapter was finally going to start going her way, then maybe Lizzie would be feeling like she actually knew what she was doing too. 

Just at that moment, Mara suddenly lifted her head, ears alert and then stood. Lizzie’s pulse spiked. She waited with baited breath for Mara to tell her that another seizure was incoming, even when Lizzie couldn’t feel anything yet. 

“Mara?” Lizzie murmured, feeling her stomach knot.

Her service dog didn’t react to her voice. Instead, Mara’s attention was locked on something—or someone—across the café. 

Lizzie turned just in time to see Mara move.

Straight toward a guy at the counter.

“Mara, heel!” Lizzie called, already pushing back her chair, heart pounding.

But Mara wasn’t listening.

Mara always listened. Lizzie had not once been in this situation. 

Mara was always well behaved. Mara had been trained so well that this was nothing Lizzie had ever needed to worry about…but apparently that day Mara had decided that her time as picture-perfect seizure dog was over and instead she would run across the cafe, straight to random guy…

The guy turned just as Mara reached him. He was tall, wearing a hoodie pulled up over messy brown curls, and he looked as confused as Lizzie felt when Mara pressed her nose against his hand.

“Oh,” he said, blinking down at her. “Uh. Hi?”

Lizzie practically skidded to a stop beside them. “I’m so sorry—she doesn’t normally—”

And then she got a proper look at him.

Her brain stuttered.

Because that wasn’t just any guy in a hoodie.

That was Lando Norris.

Formula 1 driver. Twitch streamer. Walking, talking social media chaos generator.

She knew who he was. Of course, she bloody knew who he was. 

They were literally in Woking. A stone thrown away from the McLaren Technology Center. 

And even if Lizzie hadn’t grown up seemingly right next to the headquarters of a Formula 1 racing team, she still would have grown up as the daughter of a man that believed that Formula 1 was just as important on Sundays as church services were. 

Her dad was the original F1 fan and Lizzie had easily inherited his love for the sport. 

So to say that she was…a little bit starstruck, because there was Lando freaking Norris standing in front of her, holding a  coffee cup in one hand, a half-eaten croissant in the other, looking between Lizzie and Mara with increasing confusion, was an understatement

“So, uh.” Lando tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

Lizzie swallowed hard, her mind racing. “She’s a service dog,” she managed, her voice tight. “She only does that when—”

Mara insistently pushed her nose against Lando’s hand again. When he didn’t react she started to headbutt his thigh aggressively. 

The realization slammed into Lizzie with the force of a freight train. Mara had alerted to him.

Lando still looked baffled, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Is—uh—is she okay?”

Lizzie swallowed hard. “I—I think she’s actually asking you that.”

His brow furrowed, then a flicker of something passed over his face. A split-second of realization. “Oh.”

Lizzie watched as Lando’s hand curled slightly, his fingers flexing like he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body.

“Do you feel off?” she asked, voice softer now. “Lightheaded? Dizzy? Aura?”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue—but then he hesitated. “I mean… I was feeling a bit weird this morning.”

Mara let out another small whine, nosing at his wrist.

Lizzie exhaled sharply. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Sit. Down. And drink some water, for god’s sake.”

He blinked at her in mild shock, but something in her tone must’ve struck him because he moved, letting her guide him to an empty table.

Lizzie crouched next to him, all business now. “Do you have any underlying medical issues? Mara was trained to alert to my Epilepsy. Have you ever had a seizure?!”

Lando shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I do get migraines sometimes. And sometimes before I get one, things feel… off.”

Oh. 

Lizzie sat back on her heels. “Then she probably picked up on that.”

Lando looked down at Mara, who had now settled next to him, still watching carefully.

“Is this—normal?” he asked.

“For her, yeah.” Lizzie scratched the back of her neck. “She’s trained to detect seizures, but she picks up on other stuff too. She’s never alerted to someone else before, though.”

Lando let out a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. “Huh. Well, I’m still here, so I think I’m good,” he finally said and Lizzie exhaled. 

“Sorry, about that,” she apologised. “She has never done that before.”

Lando grinned, slow and teasing. “Guess I’m just special, huh?” he teased. 

A pause. Then, hesitantly, Lando reached down, fingers brushing Mara’s head.

“Thanks, I guess,” he murmured. Mara’s tail gave a small, reassuring wag.

“So, like… I am not dying, right?” Lando asked her suddenly, and Lizzie let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. 

“No. But she’s never wrong about this kind of thing.” Lizzie sighed. “Drink some water. Eat something. Just—don’t ignore it.”

Lando hummed. “Noted.” Then he tilted his head, studying her. “And you are?”

She blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “Your name. And her name too.”

Lizzie felt warmth creep up her neck.

She bit her lip.

“I am Lizzie. That’s Mara.” 

Lando grinned, like he was committing both names to memory. “Lizzie and Mara. Got it.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why her stomach flipped at the way he said her name, but she pushed the feeling aside. “And you’re Lando,” she said, more to ground herself than anything else.

His grin widened. “So you do know who I am.”

Lizzie scoffed. “I live in Woking. I’d have to be actively avoiding the internet to not know who you are.”

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” He glanced down at Mara, who had finally relaxed, still keeping a watchful eye on him. “So… does this mean I have, like, a cool dog guardian angel now?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Only if you promise not to ignore your body when it’s telling you something’s wrong.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Noted.”

The café felt warmer than it had before as they looked at each other. Lizzie, still crouched next to Lando and Mara. The air between them felt charged, and Lizzie was suddenly reminded of a fact she had never forgotten: Lando Norris was unfairly attractive.

"So...are you here often or was today my lucky day?"

She blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. “I—uh. Yeah. I’m here most days.”

Lando nodded like that was exactly the answer he was hoping for. “Cool. I might have to come by more often then.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Because of the coffee? Or because of the dog that just diagnosed you?”

He smirked. “Both. And maybe because the company’s not bad either.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was actually flirting or just naturally charming. Either way, it was… a lot.

Lando hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “Look, this might be weird, but—can I give you my number?”

Lizzie’s brain stalled. “What?”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “I mean, you know, in case Mara ever wants to check in on me again. Or, uh, if you ever want to.”

Lizzie exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “That was smooth.”

“I try,” he said, dimples on full display.

Lizzie couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, part amused and part baffled at the whole situation. She had gone from sitting in her usual spot, writing away in her notebook as Mara dozed by her feet to now crouching next to a Formula 1 driver giving her his number. What sort of alternate universe was this?

She hesitated, but then Mara nudged her hand, like she was making the decision for her. Lizzie huffed, pulled out her phone, and slid it across the table. “Fine. But if you start texting me memes at 2 AM, I’m blocking you.”

Lando chuckled, tapping in his number before handing it back. “No promises.”

Lizzie glanced down at the contact name he’d put in: Lando ‘Not Dying (Yet)’ Norris.

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

Lando shot her a cheeky grin as he got to his feet. “It’s part of the charm.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, the smile stubbornly clinging to her face. It only widened when Lando bent down to say a quick goodbye to Mara, who promptly licked his hand in response.

Lizzie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile. “Come on, Mara. Let’s go before you decide to start diagnosing other random strangers too.”

As she walked away, Lando called after her, voice warm with amusement. “See you around, Lizzie.”

She didn’t look back—but her stupid smile stayed all the way home.

***

***

The morning air was crisp, the kind of early autumn chill that made your breath curl in the air but wasn’t quite cold enough for a proper coat. The park was quiet, save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees.

Lando arrived a few minutes early—not that he was eager or anything. He just… didn’t want to be late. Which was not the same as being eager.

He shifted on his feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.

It wasn’t a date. Not officially. Just a walk. With a girl. A very cute girl. Who had a dog that might have magical powers if yesterday was anything to go by.

He heard her before he saw her—the sound of Mara’s paws on the pavement, the soft jingle of her collar. Then—

“Morning,” Lizzie said, smiling as she approached. She had a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, and Mara trotted happily at her side.

Lando tried not to notice how good she looked or how her smile lit up her face. He was cool. He was casual. He wasn’t a blushing teenager getting flustered over a girl.

He failed utterly.

Lando exhaled, grinning back. “Hey. You actually showed up.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. Mara padded over and sniffed at Lando’s hand, her tail wagging excitedly.

“As if you weren’t expecting me to,” she said, eyes glittering with humor. “Did you really think I’d ditch you?”

Yes. Yes, he had. 

“I dunno. Maybe you’d wake up and realize agreeing to go on a walk with a random guy from a coffee shop was a terrible idea.” 

Lizzie laughed, the sound surprisingly musical. “It probably was. But you’ve got Mara’s seal of approval, so you can’t be too dangerous, right?”

She glanced down at Mara, who panted happily up at Lando, as if in agreement.

"Can I touch her?" he asked carefully. "I should have asked yesterday, I am sorry." He may had spent too much time yesterday reading up on Service Dogs. And what exactly they did for their handlers, especially if they had handlers that had epilepsy like Lizzie had.

Lizzie smiled, her expression softening. “It’s okay. I know it’s not exactly common knowledge.” She nodded. “You can touch her. She’s off-duty right now, so you’re good.”

Lando crouched down, holding a hand out, allowing Mara to sniff him. When she didn’t shrink away, he cautiously patted her on the head. Her fur was silky-smooth to the touch.

"Hello Mara," he greeted her. "I even brought  Peanut Butter for my saviour.”

He probably shouldn't have said that. At the sound of these two words Mara suddenly perked up, immediately sat down before Lando’s feet.

“You shouldn’t say the magic words unless you plan to give some to her right at that exact moment,” Lizzie said drily.

Lando laughed in surprise, looking down at Mara as she sat there, looking up at him expectantly. “She is serious about peanut butter, huh?”

He pulled the jar out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap before holding it out for Mara to sniff. She stuck her nose in it, tail wagging furiously.

“I think she approves,” he said, watching as Mara licked at the peanut butter.

Only after she had been allowed to stick her snout in there for a full 5 seconds was Mara ready to continue their walk. 

“So, how’s the head?” Lizzie asked, tilting her head toward him.

“Better. I took something last night before it got too bad and slept it off.” He glanced down at Mara. “Not sure I would’ve done that if someone hadn’t warned me.”

Lizzie hummed. “She’s good at her job. Even when she has never alerted to somebody else before.” 

Lando tried not to let that go straight to his ego. Tried.

Lando tried to sound casual as he spoke, but couldn’t quite hold back a hint of satisfaction. "I guess that means I’m extra special, then?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at that, but there was a laugh in her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, too late for that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, just walking together, the sound of the leaves crunching under their feet and Mara’s paws filling the air.

“So, what do you do, exactly?” Lando asked, trying to shift the conversation somewhere less awkward. Though he was pretty sure that the abrupt topic change was not gonna help at all. 

Lizzie smirked. “You mean besides walk dogs?” she joked. 

“Yeah. You know, because you know what I do” He gestured at himself dramatically, trying to be playful. “It’s not fair that you are the big mystery.”

Lizzie laughed and shoook her head. “It’s not fair,” she agreed. “I write books.”

Lando blinked. “What kind of books?” he asked, his curiousity piqued. 

“Romantasy,” Lizzie answered, watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.

What? 

Lando frowned. “Like… romance and fantasy?” Was that a thing?

“Exactly.”

“Is that, like, dragons? Or is it—”

“Faes,” Lizzie supplied. “And magic, and epic love stories, and usually some kind of dramatic war.”

Lando’s eyes widened as she talked, the concept of 'romantasy' sinking in. “Wow. So, like… magic powers and romance and all that good stuff?”

Lizzie nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty much. And there’s always a bit of adventure thrown in for good measure.”

Lando thought for a moment, picturing tales of epic battles and star-crossed lovers. It sounded…. Nice.

“You write those books that people fight over on the internet, don’t you?” he asked. Because he was pretty sure he had seen things about Morally grey love interests and a enemies-to-lovers arc and people fighting with other people about which fictional man was hotter. 

Lizzie’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with humour. “Guilty as charged. I write the books that people have passionate debates over online. The ones where people are way too invested in the love triangle and have very strong opinions about which fictional man is hotter.”

His brows shot up. “Wait—are you, like, famous?”

She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his phone and started typing.

Lizzie swatted at his arm. “Are you Googling me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

"What are you evening googling? Lizzie Romantasy?" she asked him with a snort. "You probably won't find me. Try Elizabeth Treshton."

The results for 'Elizabeth Treshton' appeared on the screen, and he scrolled through for a moment, articles and book covers, reviews and interviews popping up.

A moment later he got his answer.

"You sold millions of books."

Lando stared at Lizzie with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "I think that counts as famous."

Lizzie shrugged. “And yet, my dog still expects me to carry her up the stairs when she’s being lazy.”

Mara wagged her tail like she agreed.

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “I have a feeling Mara has you wrapped around her paw.”

She hummed in agreement, her hand going to the end of Mara's leash as the dog stopped to sniff at a tree.

“I swear, she knows exactly how cute she is and uses it to her advantage.”

Lando slipped his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. “That’s actually really cool. How’d you get into it?”

Lizzie hesitated, then exhaled. “I have epilepsy. Had a lot of seizures when I was younger, which meant a lot of time in hospitals. You get really bored after a while.” She snorted. “So, I kept busy. Told myself stories, read, learned to crochet. But writing stuck. Studied English lit at uni, got a publishing deal right after. I was really lucky.”

Lando nodded. “That’s kinda sick, actually. You get to make stuff up for a living.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” She glanced at him. “What about you? What’s it like, racing cars all day?”

He grinned. “Honestly? A lot more boring than you’d think.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “You drive 300 kilometers an hour for a living.”

“Yeah, but I also stare at spreadsheets for hours. It’s not all fast cars and cheering crowds.”

“I mean, if you didn’t look at data, I think there would be bigger problems,” Lizzie said, teasing.

He rolled his eyes. “I do look at it, I promise.”

“So, how’d you end up doing that?”

“My mum tried to get me into horses—wasn’t into it. But I wanted to drive. Did quad biking, motorcycle riding… then my dad took me to a kart race, and that was it.”

“That’s sweet. My dad and I have watched F1 together since I was a kid," Lizzie said with a grin.

Lando glanced at her. “Really? That’s awesome. So, are you, like, one of those people who actually knows what’s going on during a race?”

Lizzie grinned. “You’re just mad because I probably know more than you.”

“Impossible,” Lando said, acting affronted. “I drive the car, I know what I’m doing.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Do you, though?”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe you just questioned my driving skills.”

She just laughed. “I can’t drive at all, you know.”

“I can teach you,” he offered immediately.

She laughed. “I am legally not allowed to get behind the wheel,” Lizzie told him drily. “Epilepsy, you know. If I get a seizure while driving, I would accidentally murder people,”

“That sucks,” Lando said quietly.

“It’s just one of those things you get used to. You get used to not having control over that part of your life.”

Lando felt a pang of sympathy. “That must be tough.”

Lizzie shrugged. “It is, sometimes. But Mara’s a huge help. And I get by.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lando said, glancing down at the dog, who was happily leading the way once again.

Lizzie smiled. “She’s the best. And it’s not all bad. Gives me more time to write, at least.”

Lando grinned. “I’m definitely interested in reading some of your work now.”

She laughed. “You are aware that they are all like 500 pages, right?”

Lando groaned dramatically. “You’re telling me you’ve published multiple million-selling books, and they’re all doorstoppers?”

"I am a wordy person, you know," Lizzie shot back.

Lando groaned again, but he smiled, too. “You’re making me work for it here.”

Lizzie just shrugged, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

” Lando grinned, already planning his next move. “Alright, super important question,” he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

Lizzie raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Who’s your favorite F1 driver?”

She let out a soft laugh. “You really want to know?”

Lando nodded, deadly serious. “This is crucial information. Make or break.”

She laughed, a strand of dark chocolate brown hair escaping her bun. 

“My dad is a die hard Ferrari fan,” she told him. “Seriously. Like you know that quote that there are only two religions in Italy, Catholicism and Ferrari? That’s pretty much my dad,” she said with a shake of her heard. “So for him it was always Schumacher…

As they strolled through the park, Mara trotting ahead with her nose to the ground, Lando shot Lizzie a sideways glance.

Lizzie hummed, drawing out the suspense. “When I was little, I loved Kimi Raikkonen.”

Lando groaned. “Kimi? Seriously?!?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You asked! I was, like, ten. You weren’t even in F1 yet.”

“Still hurts,” Lando muttered. “Alright, fine. What about now? Who’s your current favorite?”

Lizzie smirked. “Are you asking because you want me to say you?”

He feigned innocence. “Noooo… but also, yes.”

She pretended to consider. “Well, I do appreciate drivers with great car control and a smooth racing style.”

Lando’s grin stretched wide. “That does sound familiar—”

“Which is why I love watching Lewis.”

Lando gasped, scandalized. “Lizzie, what the hell?”

She laughed. “What? He’s a seven-time world champion! You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I can definitely be mad at you for that.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I thought we had something special.”

Lizzie smirked. “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re my favorite driver I’ve ever gone on a walk with?”

Lando narrowed his eyes at her, fighting a smile. “Barely.”

***

[inkdrinkerworld]

In response to your post,

Thinking about poly!marauders and how they’d know you’re having a bad day before you can even say it because they know you better than you probably know yourself.

Unless you’re the type of person that likes to talk about it, they won’t even say anything, just pamper you.

James would 100% make a last minute grocery trip so he could cook your favorite meal.

Sirius would cuddle you all night long and always be touching you in some way to provide comfort.

And Remus would draw a relaxing bath that’s equivalent to being at a spa.

I’m thinking lots of tender kisses to the forehead, soft voices, and the sweetest declarations of love and care.

If you decide to talk about it they will be the most attentive listeners. Sirius would 100% be engaged, responding with gasps, coos, groans, and angry declarations of beating someone up if they’ve hurt you. Remus would be quiet until you’re done talking and then drop the most earth shattering wisdom or the most comforting words ever. And James would be providing all sorts of physical support- rubbing your back, holding your hand, pushing hair away from your face, pulling you onto his lap, etc.

By the end of the day you’d totally forget about the bad day you’ve had.

Manifesting this for you love, and I hope you feel better soon<3

James has you in his lap with your stuffed bear loosely in your hold as you cry into his thigh.

“Hey, ease up a bit in the tears poppet. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Sirius strokes your hair as Remus brings in a bowl of your favourite for dinner.

“It’s all over now, hm? You’re home and we’ve made your favourite for tea and Remmy will give you one of his amazing massages before bed.”

Remus nods when you look up with teary but hopeful eyes.

“Course I will, but you’ve got to eat something first.”

You nod, your bear clutched tight in your hold as you sit up. “Thank you guys,”

Sirius tuts, kissing your sticky cheeks just before Remus passes you the bowl of warm dinner.

“It’s nothing, baby,” he levels you with a look when you go to argue. “What do you say we look at ‘Christopher Robin,’ hm?”

You perk a little, “Really?”

James chuckles, arms a little tighter around you as Remus and Sirius shuffle about on the sofa to sit beside you both. “Yes really, angel.”

By the time you’re a third of the way through the movie, Remus is already giving your legs a massage and you’re basically asleep on James’ lap.

It doesn’t stop his hand from coasting up and down your back or his lips from pressing into your temple.

“Reckon I could make her breakfast in the morning, something special.” He murmurs to Remus, Sirius is already falling asleep on James’ other thigh with his fingers tangled in your hair.

“That’d be sweet Jamie, what’re you thinking?”

James looks down at you, upset by your bad day but pleased he and your other boyfriends have helped.

“Maybe crepes, haven’t made them in a bit. Could start the batter tonight and everything.”

Remus presses a kiss to his lips with a fond smile. “You’re sweet, she’ll love that.”

James is all flushed but knows that Remus is right- you will love it. “Dunno how I’ll slip out from under them but the second I’ve figured that part out I’ll get it started.”

Remus chuckles softly, softening when you stir a little. “Sleep sleep, love.”

[kabr0ztrousers]

Bull hybrid cowboy x chubby fem reader. He runs a little ranch all by himself no one for miles and her car just so happens to break down near his road. He offers her a ride into town but ends up kidnapping her. Would love it if he ties her up and shows her all the reasons why she should stay with him.

Hmm... Now do I write another hucow scene or don't I? Only kidding, you all know where this is going.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 34: Free Range

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: kidnap; dubcon; noncon; lactation; impregnation;

A/N: Thanks again for the steady stream of requests, you lot! Remember if you want to see something, want me to revisit a kink or scenario I've done before, or have a totally new idea, let me know and it'll probably happen!

######################################

You loved that little shitbox of a car, mid 2000's spec, old enough to drink and still going strong. Up until about 5 miles back. You were on a tiny country road in the middle of the night, cruising at 60, when you heard an almighty bang followed by a jangling noise. Your revs went through the roof for a moment before you started to coast. By the time you stopped and inspected the damage you'd already figured out what happened. The jaunty angle of the gearstick and the lack of any resistance on it meant your gears were probably strewn across several hundred metres of road. At least your engine still worked so you had light, heat, and BBC 2.

You didn't, however have any phone signal.

So you sat in the layby in your car, idling the engine to keep the battery running and listening to the 80s. Sleeping in a running car seems like something that's probably illegal, but you figured if the police found you, they could probably give you a tow to go with the fine. Hopefully you'd make it to morning and then walk however far the nearest town is to call your insurance.

A horn behind you shocked you out of your thoughts. You looked around as a rugged 4x4 pulled level with you. A window rolled down and the driver motioned for you to do the same.

He was a bull hybrid, horns wreathing his head, a thick gold ring adorning his nose. "Need a tow?"

"Yeah, I think my gearbox is fucked" you smiled at him

"That'll do it for you, I can get you to town if you want, climb in"

You got out of your car and into his, grateful for the save. He hooked a rope from his car to yours and pulled away, your stricken vehicle in tow.

You didn't think anything of the route he took, country lanes are far too narrow to turn around in, especially in a big vehicle like this one, but you'd been travelling for a while. It's not like he wasn't charming, softly spoken with just a hint of an accent, apparently he had a herd of dairy cattle that he pastured around the area, and you were being regaled about the trade. The radio in the car gently playing some tiny local station or other, predominantly focusing on spinning old records and talking about the weather.

Suspicion set in when you turned off the road, he was taking you up a gravel track in the pitch-dark. He seemed to know the area pretty well but you figured that to get to civilization, you should probably be following the asphalt rather than abandoning it.

He pulled up at a house and turned off the engine, shoving the keys into his pocket "Come on, let's get inside"

You got out and bolted away from the house. You're not stupid enough to follow him in, you'd only just met!

He was faster than you. You'd barely made it twenty yards when you were tackled to the ground. The bull huffed as he tied your ankles together and hefted you over his shoulder. You hit and struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your assault. "Spirited, aren't you?" He opened his door and carried you over the threshold "You'll do fine here"

He put you down onto a plush sofa and sat in a chair opposite to you. Minutes passed in silence, you sullenly staring at him, him eyeing you up like a cut of meat.

"What will you do with me?" You spat at him

"Honestly, I'm not sure. You seemed like a soft townie when I picked you up. I'd thought maybe let you call for a tow, give you a coffee, and maybe a roll in the hay." He was still staring at you

"But?" You felt like there was a but coming

"But, you're not badly built, and you're not such a pushover. Now I'm deciding if I want a wife or not"

You recoiled at his comment "If you think I'm marrying you, you can fuck off!"

He shrugged and got up "Plan B then. With hips and tits like those you'll be a good fit"

He lifted you into a seated position and tore off your top, baring your chest and the rolls of your tummy. He grabbed one of your tits and hefted it "Natural, very good"

If looks could kill, you would've atomised him. As it was he merely met your gaze as he roughly inspected you.

"I was right, you'll do excellently" He picked you up again and swung you over his shoulder before carrying you outside. He crossed a field, not caring about your yelling and screaming for help. He knew nobody was around for miles, even if someone heard you they wouldn't be able to help you. He pushed open a barn door and carried you in, putting you down on a pile of straw "I'll see you tomorrow"

He left you there. The ropes were tied tightly around your ankles. You struggled against them until your fingers went numb to no avail. The other occupants of the barn stirred with your struggling. Your eyes were adjusting to the gloom, you could just about make them out.

They were other women. Some cow hybrids, some not. All of them plump, many pregnant. They looked at you with big doe eyes, curiosity on their faces as they regarded you.

The first one put her arms around you in a hug, then another and another until you were smothered in a dozen round women, their full breasts pressing against you as they started to doze off on you. Stuck there in the centre of the cuddle pile, you couldn't help your eyelids getting heavy, your head cushioned against a plush belly as sleep claimed you too.

You woke with the dawn. The other women mooing eagerly and dispersing around the barn. The bull man from last night opened the door and stepped in. He looked over at you before settling to work. One by one he attached milking cups to the other women, who each settled down contentedly as the machines pumped them, the milk being drawn into tanks at one end of the barn.

Finally he got to you.

"Enjoy your night?"

You spat at him. He laughed.

"Damn, I wish you'd reconsider being my wife. As it is, I can still put a calf in you." He lifted you and carried you to a fence, tying your arms to it before cutting your ankles free.

Your tits swung below you as he pulled your hips up and hiked your skirt up. He tore a hole in your tights, revealing your pussy. You screamed as he started to lick you, his thick tongue penetrating you already as he fingered your clit. You felt your skin flush as your body responded to him, getting wet and ready for him. His licking and stroking was drawing you in, until you quivered with a tearful orgasm.

You felt him straighten up behind you. He lay his cock on your back and you shivered with the length of it before he pulled back and started to ease the tip in, crooning as he went "You're doing great, girl, just a little more, a little more"

The sound of his voice was making you wetter than his tongue did. You whimpered from the fullness from his cock pushing slowly into you, stretching you out. Your hips were pushing back against him, sending waves of motion up your body. He started to push harder, move faster. Your whimpers turned to blissful sobs and whines as you sped towards your next orgasm, the length and girth of him getting you off all by itself. When he squeezed your hips it was too much. Your body tried to push back, but it didn't need to. He could feel your impending orgasm and hilted himself in you, tiny thrusts slapping his balls against your clit and driving you over the edge. He started to throb and pulse in you as your cunt clenched around him. His thrusts were fast and deep, he was close and wasn't going to cum anywhere but inside you. His pounding on your cervix was getting to you, as was his gripping your waist and your hips, and the jolting swaying of your tits. He pushed a hand between your legs and circled his fingers over your clit. You came again. This time he joined in. Your moans and grunts mingled as the other women watched you, still mooing in euphoria from being attached to the pumps.

He stayed inside you, his cock still giving occasional pumps of cum. His huge hands tracing patterns on your back and rubbing your aching muscles. Then he pulled out, and you heard a spatter of his cum fall out of you and onto the straw below. He cut your arms free and helped you off the railings, laying you on the straw.

"I treat my ladies well, you'll see"

A month has passed since you joined the herd. You spend your mornings hooked up to the milking machines, your afternoons lounging in the fields munching clover and enjoying the company of your new friends, then in the evenings Aaron, as you leaned his name, would often visit you and put another load in you. You're already late on your period, you just haven't told him yet.

Yeah, you're giving up some freedoms, and you're pretty sure you're getting dumber

But it sure beats your old job

###################################

Postscript: A bit of an experiment in trying to split the difference between "awful human farm" and not being overly horrible to the POV character. Hopefully it hits the mark nicely. Who knows, I may do a continuation or a "what if" where it goes into fluffy marital sex between Aaron and Fem!Reader...

At any rate, this is your periodic reminder that my ask box and DMs are always open, and to not hold back on your requests! I'm not in the habit of airing anyone's dirty laundry so if you do cross some unforeseen line the worst you'll get is a no

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #3

{masterlist}

There’s a knock on your door late in the morning, just as you are sipping the second mug of coffee of the day. A sigh escapes your lips as you close your laptop, not feeling like talking to anyone right now, but knowing full well it would be rude to pretend you’re not at home, especially since the music you’ve been listening to can probably be heard from outside.

You have a deadline tomorrow, and the goddamn wireframe is not done yet, there’s something that’s missing, you know that. Some results you needed for this only arrived late last night, and your boss didn’t give you much time to work on it. Your teammate promised to take a look at it tomorrow morning, so it had to be done and sent today.

But when you open the door, there’s no one in the hallway, not a single soul. And then you look down momentarily to find an envelope on the doormat with your name written on it. Strange, who would leave a handwritten note these days? In the end, you just shrug and pick it up before heading back inside.

“Dinner at six at our place, don’t be late. Jack wants to get to know you, and maybe we could watch a movie together. He also wants you to know there will be enough popcorn for all of us,” it says, and it’s signed by Aaron. But then your eyes move lower to find a postscript. “Okay, that’s all Jack could see, here’s the thing. I also want to get to know you, preferably after I put Jack to bed. There are topics I’d rather not discuss in front of him. And wear my hoodie, I’m begging you. Anyway, save my number just in case.”

Heat rises to your cheek when you finish the letter, and you automatically reach for your phone to save the number he included at the end. It’s ridiculous, really, but you can’t stop yourself. This man has you in a chokehold, even if you’ve only exchanged like a total of five sentences so far. Maybe you would say no under different circumstances, but this time it’s a cute little boy who insists on having you over, who are you to decline?

You return to the wireframe, but five minutes later your gaze shifts to the phone next to your laptop. You should send a text to him and his son to thank them for the invitation. Just one text, that’s all. It would be nothing more but a friendly gesture, a simple text from a neighbor. With a sigh, you pick up the device and lean back in the swivel chair.

You: Thank you for the invitation.

You: I’m your neighbor, by the way.

Aaron: I’m glad you got the letter. Does this mean you’ll come over?

You: Jack mentioned popcorn, how could I say no that?

Aaron: And what about me?

You: Haven’t decided yet.

Aaron: You’re such a tease.

Aaron: Will you wear my hoodie as I asked?

You: I’m thinking about wearing that with no pants under it, it’s almost as long as some of my dresses.

Aaron: Sweetheart, there will be an underage kid in the apartment.

Sweetheart? God, he doesn’t waste his time. Your stomach does a flip upon reading the pet name, and it’s hard to resist the urge to smile like an idiot. He’s an outrageous flirt. You’re fucked. That’s it.

You: Fine, I’ll wear yoga pants.

Aaron: Perfect.

Aaron: But I won’t complain if you take it off after Jack goes to bed.

You: Oh, you want to see me naked?

Aaron: I was only talking about the yoga pants, but if you insist, who am I to say no?

You: You’re unbelievable.

You: Alright, stop disturbing me, I have a deadline at work. See you tonight.

Aaron: Can’t wait.

[jazzy96scorpio]

His Forbidden Equation

Chapter 1 A Cosmic Chemistry

Description: A scorching affair ignites between a professor Reed Richards and his student [You], pushing the boundaries of propriety and exploring the intoxicating chemistry of forbidden passion.

Pairing: You / Reed Richards Mr. Fantastic

Warnings ⚠️ : adult content, SMUT, dirty talk, oral sex (m/f rec), unprotected sex, sex, slow burn, so much teasing and tension.

Word count: 2500

I hope so you are gonna enjoy in reading. I writed this quickly. ❣️

Part 1 * Scientific Seduction

The lab hummed, that low, constant thrum that vibrated through your shoes and up into your bones.  It was the soundtrack to cutting-edge science, the kind of background noise you got used to.  Senior year, you were practically buzzing with nervous excitement, tagging along with a bunch of other students on a visit to the astrophysics lab at ESU.  Astronaut. 

The word hung in your mind, a distant, glittering star you were reaching for with everything you had. And this lab, with all its crazy equipment and the thick air of brainpower, felt like one tiny step closer. Especially since he was here.

Reed Richards. Seriously.  The Reed Richards. You knew all about his… extracurriculars, his whole Fantastic Four thing. But here, in the halls of ESU, he was Professor Richards, just a ridiculously brilliant guy trying to figure out the universe.

He was talking about stellar evolution, his voice kind of dreamy and intense. He pointed at this swirling, pulsing holographic image of a star collapsing, all vibrant colors. You were totally mesmerized.  So much so, you almost missed him looking over at…you.

It wasn't a big, dramatic stare or anything. Just a quick glance, his eyes, usually miles away, locking onto yours for a second.  But something weird happened in that second.  Like a little spark.  Maybe it was how focused you were, practically glued to the hologram, or maybe it was just random.  Whatever it was, he stopped talking, kind of furrowed his brow like he was trying to solve some crazy equation.

"You got a question?" he asked, looking right at you.

Your heart did this weird little jump.

All the other students turned to look, and suddenly you felt super self-conscious, like, you were going to ask Reed Richards a question?

You mumbled, "I...I was just thinking about the Chandrasekhar limit..."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made crinkles around his eyes, and for a second, he just looked like a regular guy, not a scientific legend. "Good question. Most students are still trying to get the basics down. What about it grabs you?"

And just like that, you were talking.  He didn't talk down to you, even though you were just a student, a tiny speck in his universe of knowledge. He actually listened to your questions, like they mattered, and you guys got into this whole thing about theoretical possibilities, even some of his own, more… out there ideas.

He saw how into it you were, that burning need to understand everything, to touch the stars.  And in that moment, with the lab humming and the holographic stars glowing, your worlds bumped into each other.

As the other students filed out, a little disappointed the session was over, Professor Richards turned to you. 

"Would you mind staying for a moment?" he asked.

"I'd like to talk more about some of the things you brought up."

You were beyond flattered.  He wanted to talk to you?  It felt like the universe was tilting on its axis. 

He saw something in you, something beyond just another student, and the thought made your heart flutter.

"My name is [Y/N]," you managed, a little breathless.

"It's a pleasure, [Y/N]," he replied, his eyes meeting yours.

The lab emptied, the heavy door clicking shut behind the last of the departing students, leaving just the two of you surrounded by the silent machinery.

You felt like a kid in a candy store, all wide-eyed and buzzing with curiosity. And he seemed genuinely happy to answer every single one of your questions, no matter how small. He really listened, his brow furrowed as he considered your thoughts.

"You have a remarkable grasp of these concepts for someone your age," he said, a genuine note of admiration in his voice. "Your insights are…refreshing."

You felt your cheeks flush. 

"Thank you," you murmured.

He genuinely seemed to enjoy your company, his initial reserve melting away as your shared passion for the cosmos took over.  You mentioned you were working on your graduation essay, and his eyes lit up.  "What's your topic?" he asked.

When you told him, he offered to help, suggesting some further reading and offering to guide you through some of the more complex theories.

"It would be my pleasure," he said, that warm smile of his making you feel like you were the only person in the universe.

There was something in the air, a little shift in the vibe.  A definite tension, a little spark of… something...that you were feeling too. His gaze kept drifting over to you, lingering a little too long. He seemed kind of fascinated by something – maybe your dress, or the bright red lipstick you’d gone for that day. His eyes, usually so focused on faraway galaxies, had this intensity that made you a little breathless. You could feel his breath hitch as he moved closer, a subtle change in the air pressure that gave you goosebumps.

But just as things were getting interesting, the lab door swung open. "Reed?" a voice called out.

It was Sue Richards. You knew her instantly. You gave a polite smile and a hello, and she smiled back, her eyes briefly checking you out. A quick, almost invisible flicker crossed her face before she turned to her husband.

"Honey, I just wanted to..." she started, then paused, her eyes flicking back to you.

You introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her voice polite but cool.

"You too," you replied.

You grabbed your stuff, feeling a weird mix of disappointment and relief. As you headed for the door, you couldn't help but notice Reed watching you go.

You gave a small, polite goodbye, and then you were out of there, the hum of the lab fading behind you.

That day was seared into your memory. You couldn't shake the way he looked at you, the heat radiating from his smile.

You'd managed to snag his number – a little strategic searching into his department – and finally worked up the nerve to call. He answered, his voice a little rough, and said he was "very much looking forward" to seeing you in class on Friday. The way he said it… a shiver ran down your spine.

❤️‍🔥

Friday arrived, and you practically floated to the lab. He greeted you with that familiar warm smile, his eyes lingering a little too long. A couple of other students were there, but they left after you arrived, leaving you two alone. He was incredibly kind, almost…chatty. He asked about your essay, and you two launched into this intense discussion about the universe, dark matter, the expansion of space, the whole shebang. His passion was contagious.

You were hanging on his every word, but honestly, you could barely focus on the science. Your mind was a mess. He was so damn handsome, and a fire was starting to build inside you. You couldn't help but notice his gaze drifting downwards, just for a millisecond, under the table on your legs probably.

He’d lean in closer, asking, “Are you paying attention?” You’d nod, repeating his last sentence perfectly, your voice a little husky.

At one point, he walked over to a green board covered in equations and diagrams.

"You know," he said, picking up a chalk, "there's this theory about spacetime being like a fabric, and massive objects create these…warps, like a bowling ball on a trampoline. And those warps, those are what we experience as gravity."

He drew a quick sketch, a kind of dented grid with a sphere in the middle. "It's still just a theory, of course, but… fascinating, isn't it?"

You nodded, pretending to follow along, but your mind was elsewhere.  His proximity, the way his voice resonated when he talked about the things he loved, it was intoxicating.

Then, the game began. You pulled out your notebook. “Could you just take a quick look at something?” you asked, all innocence.

He moved to stand beside you, leaning down so close you could feel his breath on your neck. His hand brushed against yours as he pointed at something in your notes. His eyes flicked down, just for a heartbeat, to your chest, before landing on your lips. You knew he was fighting it, this undeniable pull.

You were playing with fire. And you knew your perfume, your whole vibe, was driving him absolutely wild. But you weren't done yet.

You stood up, leaned in close, whispering something absolutely filthy in his ear.

"I've been thinking about you all week, Professor," you breathed, your voice low and husky. "And all the things I want to do to you… they're definitely not in the textbook."

You felt him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat.

Then, you leaned in and kissed his neck, right at the collar of his shirt, leaving a bright red lipstick mark. He froze, completely still. You looked at him, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips.

"Thank you for the lesson, Professor," you said, your voice dripping with playful menace. "See you next Friday."

And then you left.

He stood there, totally speechless, probably with a raging hard-on. He had no clue what just hit him, but he definitely, definitely wanted more.

🥵👅

The following Friday felt like an eternity.  You replayed the previous week's encounter in your head countless times, the memory of Reed's stunned expression fueling a thrill of anticipation. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, toying with a man who was both brilliant and, you suspected, deeply intrigued by the forbidden.

You arrived at the lab a few minutes early, giving yourself time to compose yourself.  He was already there, standing by the green board.

He looked up as you entered, his eyes meeting yours. The air crackled with an almost palpable energy.  He didn't smile, not immediately. That little lipstick mark on his collar last week?  Pure genius. You knew you had him hooked.

"You're early," he said, his voice a low rumble..

"I was eager to continue our…discussion," you replied, your gaze locking with his.

He nodded slowly.  "Indeed.  I've been giving your… theories… considerable thought."

The other students trickled in, and the lesson officially started, but the tension between you and Reed was electric. He kept making these little asides, disguised as explanations, but you knew they were just for you.  Like when he was talking about gravitational lensing and said, "Imagine light bending around an object… kind of like how your presence bends my… attention."  Smooth, Professor, real smooth. you thought.

After the other students had left, Reed turned to you, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "I believe," he said, his voice low, "we have some unfinished business."

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. 

"Indeed, Professor," you whispered, your hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw.  "We do."

He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat.  He reached for you, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.  "You're playing a dangerous game, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice husky.

"I'm not afraid of danger," you replied, your eyes meeting his. 

"Especially when the reward is so… tempting."

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a thrill through you.  "And what reward do you have in mind?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.  "That, Professor," you whispered, "is something you'll have to discover for yourself."

His hand tightened on your arm, pulling you closer.  "I have a feeling," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "that I'm going to enjoy this discovery very much."

He closed the remaining distance between you, his hands cupping your face.

"I think," you replied, your voice barely a whisper, "You're about to find out."  And then you kissed him. 

It wasn't a shy, tentative kiss. It was a full-on, electric kiss, all that pent-up tension finally finding release. 

He groaned into the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair.

"About reward," he muttered against your lips.

"Yes, Professor?" you said, pulling back slightly. "Do you want it?"

He was a little unsure.

"I…I'm married, I can't" he said, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

"You're not going to cheat if you don't put your dick inside me," you purred, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, isn't scientific discovery all about pushing boundaries? Exploring uncharted territories? Consider this…fieldwork."

You winked, the image of his long fingers tracing the curve of your hip flashing through your mind.

"Purely for research purposes, of course."

He couldn't endure more. He took your hand, his grip firm, and led you into a small  room tucked away in the lab. The door clicked shut behind you.

He turned, his eyes burning with a hunger that mirrored your own. He kissed you, then, a deep, passionate kiss that stole your breath and set your pulse racing.

You kneeled down, your fingers deftly unbuckling his belt. He was so impatient, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

"Do you want this, Professor?" you asked, your voice husky with desire.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice thick with longing. "God, yes. I want you so badly. I've been…obsessed."

You pulled down his boxers, revealing a thick, hard length that throbbed with anticipation. His cock was magnificent, a dark, veiny masterpiece. You cupped him in your hand, marveling at his size and heat.

You kissed the tip, then licked and swirled your tongue around, teasing him. He groaned, his hands gripping your hair, his hips thrusting involuntarily. He was so close. He whispered your name, a desperate plea.

Then, you took him deeper, harder, your mouth engulfing him completely. You gagged slightly on his impressive length, your saliva slicking his skin. You continued your movements, your mouth working magic as your hand stroked him rhythmically. He gasped, his breath ragged. "Don't stop," he begged, "I'm… I'm gonna…"

You opened your mouth, your tongue darting out to tease his swollen head. With your right hand, you gripped him firmly and jerked off, just as he came in a rush of hot, thick cum that coated your tongue and lips. His release was explosive. He watched, his eyes glazed, as you swallowed him down, your mouth glistening..

"Damn," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You're incredible."

"I aim to please, Professor," you replied, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Though I must admit, your…cock… is quite remarkable."

He handed you a tissue, his eyes still half-closed. You cleaned yourself, then he pulled you close and kissed you again, a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of him.

"You taste… delicious," he murmured against your lips.

"So do you," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

But he didn't want to stop, he wants to feel you.

He pulled up your dress, his hand slipping beneath the fabric and into your panties. He gently eased them down to your knees, his fingers brushing against your swollen clit. You were soaked, slick with anticipation. He lifted you onto a nearby lab table, your legs dangling. He knelt between them and licked you, his tongue tracing every curve and fold, exploring every inch of your swollen pussy.

He lapped at you, his tongue a hot, insistent flame, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

"You're so wet for me," he groaned, his breath hot against your core. He teased your clit with his tongue, circling it slowly, building the pressure until you were whimpering with need.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

"Keep doing that," you moaned, your hips lifting to meet his tongue. "I want you to taste me, every inch of me."

He slipped two fingers inside you.

You moaned saying "Yes…yes… more…"

Then he slipped three fingers, his strokes slow and deliberate, and with his thumb rubbed your clit driving you wild.

You came, hard and fast, your body convulsing as you reached a shattering orgasm. "Oh, fuck!" you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with passion. He leaned in and kissed you, a kiss that was both passionate and tender, laced with the raw hunger that still pulsed between you. "You have no idea," he whispered against your lips, "how long I've been wanting to do that. You're going to drive me absolutely insane."

"That's the general idea, Professor," you purred, a wicked glint in your eyes.

"Consider it… a continuing education."

After you left the small room, a little breathless and flushed, you started gathering your things, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. 

Just then, the lab door swung open and Sue Richards stood there again, her expression unreadable.  Reed visibly stiffened, a flicker of something – was it guilt? – crossing his face.

He was definitely suspicious.  And she was maybe a little… jealous? She notices the way he looked at you, a mixture of desire and something more, made her pulse quicken.

"Reed," Sue said, her voice cool and measured.

"I… I forgot my notebook.  Have you seen it?"

"No, honey, I haven't," he replied, his voice a little too casual, a little too high-pitched.  He avoided eye contact, focusing on some papers on the desk.

"Really?" she asked, her gaze flickering between you and him.  "Because I could have sworn I left it in here."

The air crackled with tension. You could feel Sue's eyes on you, assessing, questioning.  You met her gaze, offering a polite smile.

"Perhaps it's in your office, Sue," you suggested, your voice calm and professional. "I know I sometimes misplace things when I'm deep in thought."

"Maybe," she said, still looking at you. "Or maybe someone else moved it."  Her tone was pointed.

Reed cleared his throat. "Honey, don't be ridiculous. [Y/N] and I were just discussing…stellar dynamics. Quite complex stuff."  He put an arm around Sue, a little too tightly, you thought.

"Stellar dynamics?" Sue raised an eyebrow.  "At this hour?  And in this room?"

"Yes," Reed said quickly. "We needed a quiet space to… to work through some equations."

"Right," Sue said, her voice laced with skepticism.  She looked at you again, her eyes narrowed.

"Well," you said, breaking the tense silence, "thank you for the enlightening lesson, Professor Richards. It was, as always, a pleasure." You gathered your things, maintaining a professional demeanor despite the stormy emotions swirling within you. "Good evening, Sue."

"Good evening," Sue replied, her voice cool.

As you walked out of the lab, you could feel their eyes on your back. You didn't turn around.  You walked with your head held high, a secret smile playing on your lips.

That day, you felt… powerful.  Intoxicating. Damn, that was fun.  And you were definitely, definitely, not done with Reed Richards. Not by a long shot. That little taste of forbidden fruit?  It just made you crave the whole damn orchard.

Reed's POV .

I lay in bed next to Sue, the silence between us thick and uncomfortable. She’d been quiet all evening, a storm brewing in her eyes. Finally, she turned to me, her voice low and dangerous

"What's going on with you and that… girl?" she asked, her gaze piercing.

I stiffened. "What girl?" I feigned innocence, even though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

"Don't play dumb, Reed," she snapped. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. [Y/N]. What is she doing with you so late at the lab? Why are you two so… close?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "She's a student, Sue. A very bright student. We've been discussing some advanced concepts. That's all."

"It doesn't look like 'all' to me," she retorted, her voice rising. "I saw the way she looked at you. And the way you looked at her."

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. Damn. I’d been so careful, or so I thought.

"There's nothing going on, Sue," I insisted, my voice tight. "She's just… enthusiastic. About science."

"Enthusiastic enough to be meeting with you alone in a closed room?" she challenged, her eyes flashing. "I don't like it, Reed. I don't like it one bit."

I reached for her hand, trying to soothe her. "Honey, you're being paranoid. There's nothing to worry about. She's just a student."

"I don't want her around you anymore," she said, her voice firm. "I'm serious, Reed. I'm jealous."

I sighed again. This was getting complicated. I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards [Y/N]. She was… intoxicating. But Sue was my wife. I loved her. I had to smooth things over.

"Okay, honey," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "If it bothers you that much, I won't give her any more extra lessons. Happy?"

She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Yes," she said. "That would make me happy."

I fell asleep that night, but it was a restless sleep. My thoughts kept drifting back to [Y/N].

Her lips on mine, the way she’d looked at me, the taste of her… I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a rock, my dreams filled with images of her. I groaned, frustrated and aroused.

The next day, I was at the college with the rest of the Fantastic Four, making an appearance. I spotted her across the room, talking to some other students. Just seeing her sent a jolt of electricity through me. I had to talk to her, just for a minute.

I managed to pull her aside, away from the crowd. We were alone in hallway.

"I… I can't give you any more lessons," I said, my voice tight. "My wife… she's not comfortable with it."

She just smiled, a knowing, almost predatory smile that sent shivers down my spine.

"Aw, is the big, bad Reed Richards afraid of his wife?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"It's not like that," I protested weakly.

"Sure it isn't, Professor," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your wife is a little jealous, I see."

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Look, it's just… complicated."

"I understand," she said, her smile widening.

"If you don't want to see me anymore, that's fine."

I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost.

But then, she did something that made my blood run cold and hot at the same time. She reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down, tugging them inside my pants, right against my cock.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat.

She leaned in and kissed me, a hard, possessive kiss that left me reeling. She licked my lips, a teasing flick of her tongue.

"Keep that as a gift, Professor," she whispered, her voice husky.

"A little reminder of what you're missing."

And then she was gone, leaving me standing there, shocked and breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the soft fabric of her panties pressed against my cock, a burning reminder of her. I was going wild. I wanted her so badly it was a physical ache. I was going to lose my mind.

🎀

You leave the professor a little thrill buzzing through you. As you walk, you bump into Johnny Storm. He's cute, charming, and clearly interested. You chat for a bit, the conversation flowing easily, and he asks you out for drinks. You accept. It's not just that he's fun to be around; he's Sue's brother, and the thought of making Reed just a little bit jealous is definitely a bonus.

That week, you and Johnny get closer. You go out a few times, laughing and having a good time. You haven't seen Reed since your little "lesson," but you know he's thinking about you. You can feel it.

Then, Johnny invites you over to his place for dinner. You know Sue and Reed will be there, and honestly, you're kind of looking forward to it. Johnny had told them he was bringing a friend, but they definitely weren't expecting you.

The surprise on their faces when you walk in? Priceless. And Reed… oh, Reed. The jealousy radiating off him is palpable. .

You're wearing your best wiggle dress, the one that makes you feel like a million bucks, and you can practically see the heat in his eyes.

Dinner is… tense. Johnny is his usual charming self, totally clueless to the tension in the air.

He tells them how you met at college, how much he likes you. Reed is sitting across from you, his gaze intense, and you decide to have a little fun.

Casually, you slip off your shoe and start rubbing your foot against his leg, right over his crotch. You can feel him getting hard under the table. Sue has gone to the kitchen to get dessert, and Johnny popped off to the bathroom.

You're alone.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hisses, his voice low and strained.

"Missing you, Professor," you purr, your foot still moving against him. "You know you've been thinking about me too."

He's practically vibrating with need.

"Have you… have you been with Johnny?" he asks, his voice tight with jealousy.

"Not yet," you say, your eyes locking with his. "Maybe tonight."

His jaw clenches. "Don't," he growls. "Don't you dare let him touch you."

"Or what?" you challenge, your smile playful.

"I'll… I'll…" He trails off, his eyes burning with desire.

"You'll what, Professor?" you whisper, leaning closer. "Confess that you want me so badly you can't stand it?"

He doesn't say anything, but his eyes say it all. Soon after Johnny came back. You wanted to leave.

"I… I have to go," you say, standing up. "I'm not feeling well."

"I'll drive you," Johnny offers, concern etched on his face.

"No, it's okay," you say, giving him a sweet smile. "I'm just down the street." You turn to Reed, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "See you later, Professor."

You see the look in his eyes as you leave. Pure hunger. He's going wild.

Part 2 The Professor's Secret

You walk down the street, almost to the lab, when you hear his car pull up beside you. He jumps out, grabs your hand, and practically drags you inside. The lab is empty, the only light coming from the dim emergency lights. He slams the door shut behind you.

"You're driving me crazy," he says, his voice rough. "I can't… I can't stop thinking about you. I want you so badly."

He kissed you, a raw, desperate kiss, and then scooped you up, his arms strong and sure. With one hand, he cleared his desk, sending papers and equipment crashing to the floor. You grinned at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Someone's eager," you purred, your voice husky with desire.

You reached for his tie, pulling him closer. "Tell me what you want, Professor," you whispered, your breath hot against his lips. "I want to hear it."

"I want you," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Your sweet pussy…I need it so bad. I wanna fill you up with my cock."

He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands moving over your body, impatient. He ripped his shirt open, the buttons popping off, and then he helped you with your dress, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. Your bra followed, and then, with a sharp rip, your panties were gone.

"Naughty girl," he muttered, his eyes burning as he checked you out. "Gonna get punished."

You reached for his belt, your fingers working quickly to undo it. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, pulsing with need. You cupped him in your hand, teasing him with your thumb, circling the tip as he leaked a drop of precum. "Mmm, you're ready for me, aren't you, Professor?" you whispered, your voice laced with playful menace. 

"Gonna spill all your secrets?"

You leaned against the desk, offering yourself to him. He gripped your waist with his large hands, pulling you close, his fingers digging into your flesh. He entered you hard, his thrusts deep and urgent.  "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes rolling back.  "You feel so good."

He squeezed your breasts, his lips closing over a nipple, sucking hard.  "So fucking tight," he repeated, his voice thick with lust. He moved inside you, slower now, each thrust a delicious torture. He was so big inside you, filling you completely, stretching you so good. You were on fire.  He was driving you wild.

"Oh, God," you moaned, your head thrown back. "Yes…fuck me, Reed. Harder."

He pulled back slightly. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice rough.

You obeyed, your back now to him. "You're a bad girl," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He gave your ass cheek a light slap. "Teasing me like that."

He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips, pinning you against the desk. He was relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful. He was so close, you could feel him pulsing inside you.  He rubbed your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You were dripping, slick and ready. You tightened around him, and then you came, a shattering orgasm that made you scream his name. "Reed!" you cried out, your body convulsing. "Oh, fuck, yess!"

He pulled out, his cum spurting onto your ass. He groaned, his body going rigid for a moment before relaxing in your arms. He cleaned you up, his touch surprisingly gentle. Then, he kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of something more than just lust.

"I…I care about you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I care about you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

Then, he kissed you, a sweet kiss that meant more than just sex.

You got dressed, the memory of his touch still lingering on your skin. He drove you home. In car he touched your leg, his fingers tracing the curve of your calf. 

"God, you are incredible," he breathed, his eyes full of passion. "I enjoyed every single second. I don't regret this, not one bit."

"Me neither," you whispered, your heart doing a little flip.

He kissed you one last time on your doorway, a lingering kiss that left you breathless. "We should keep this our little secret," he murmured.

"Agreed," you whispered, your lips still tingling from his kiss. "Our little secret." You knew this was just the beginning.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog or comment ❣️

Chapter 2 Next chapter

[86espresso]

CONGRATULATIONS! Could I please have:

crashing their date with another person purposely

^ and it all was definitely out of spite. not because they were jealous. never. totally not.

with Quinn Hughes please!

thank you so much!! and ty for requesting <3

There is not one person on god’s green earth who makes your eye twitch more than Quinn Hughes.

The only tie you have to him is being his coach’s daughter, which means you’re not supposed to see each other a lot, but you have to because you live in the same building.

On the same floor. Across from each other.

It’s been snarky remarks and banging on each other’s doors with noise complaints ever since.

You would think he’d respect you because of who your father was to him, but no. He just couldn’t stand you the same way you couldn’t stand him.

Your day was going smoothly; you got off work, came home and took a nice bath, and got ready for your date. He seemed like a lovely guy and things were going well.

You checked the time to see that you were late and hurriedly shoved your necessities in your purse and speed walked out of your apartment, quickly stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You fumbled with the keys while locking your door, breathing out in relief when you heard the lock click.

The elevator doors opened up to reveal Quinn. His hair was damp and falling onto his forehead, his black shirt stuck to him in the right places, and his gym shorts were short. As fuck.

He gave you a sideways once-over, taking in your appearance without shame as he walked out of the elevator. “Nice kicks.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking down at your stilettos. “Thanks?”

He laughs as he walks away and the doors close, and it should feel ridiculing, but a weird part of you was convinced that he tried to give you a compliment.

Key word: tried.

[•••]

The date was going fine. It wasn’t great, since he was a little cold with you because you were five minutes late, but it got better as he had a few glasses of wine.

“What a coincidence.” Your eyes bulged out of your head when you heard Quinn’s all-too-cheery tone. Both yours and your date’s eyes traveled to Quinn, who materialized in del t of your booth.

“Quinn, what the actual fuck are you—”

“I was hoping to catch you somewhere around here, you left too early y’know.” He fakes a pout.

“What is he talking about?” Your date directs the question at you.

“Yes, Quinn, enlighten us, please.” You glared daggers into his unfazed eyes.

“Nah, that’s not important. What is, though,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “is this.”

Your jaw drops as he pulls out one of your rings from his pocket. You must’ve dropped it during your rush to leave.

And just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse, “you left it at my apartment, thought you’d want it back.” He laid it in front of you as your date’s face slowly contorted to anger and he slammed his napkin down on his plate.

“Listen—” you start. Your date holds his hand up.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Quinn watches triumphantly as he stomps out of the restaurant like a child. You put your head in your hands. “It gets to a point, Quinn.”

He shrugs and flops down to where your date just sat, picks up a breadstick and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good,” he swallows, “and I saved you by the way. He had bad juju or negative aura or whatever the kids say these days.” Another bite. You feel it. The undeniable twitch of your eye.

You see his point, though. The man made you feel lesser than for being a few minutes late and was quick to storm out without giving you the chance to explain yourself.

“That still doesn’t mean you can just crash my date, Quinn— how did you even find me?”

“I followed you after I found your ring.”

“You’re so—” you sigh, unable to find the words.

There’s a beat of silence.

You groan loudly, all of a sudden, startling Quinn and making him pause mid dip. “What?”

“I’ll have to pay for all of this.” You gesture at the food in front of you.

Quinn waves his hand once. “Nah. I got it.” You’re confused for the second time that night, your mouth open but no words coming out. “What kind of guy takes someone to Olive Garden for a date, anyway?”

“The kind that’s classy enough to not compliment me with ‘nice kicks’.” You smirk, leaning back and crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes. “Be grateful, being nice to you for free is painful.”

You laugh for the first time that night, slipping your ring on your finger.

“You do look pretty nice, though.”

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

i'll still be here - leigh-anne

pairing: lee heeseung x reader x sim jaeyun

warnings: i dont think so but pls lmk if i need to add anything, 18+

pls ignore timestamps and possible typos lol - this is partially written, please be sure to read the written portion to fully understand the story <3

wc: 468

your phone was endlessly dinging, making it hard for you to focus but you tried your best to focus on the lady sitting in front of you. she had a sleek bun, wire rimmed glasses, and a pen and paper sat in front of her. 

“do you want to get that, yn?” she asks and you shake your head. 

“no, not important” you say with a smile as you quickly switch the ringer off to mute all of the sounds. 

“what is it, anyway?” she asks and you explain that it’s all of the people reaching out to you regarding your new song and because you kind of dropped it out of the blue; a lot of people were pleasantly surprised. you also added that you were planning to just drop the song and kind of go MIA to stop yourself from obsessing over every single thing that people say about you online. 

“that’s good, i’m glad you’re doing your best to listen to my advice but don’t feel like you need to be so strict with yourself. i know you’re a popstar so being on the internet is a part of your job; just know when to get off when it’s becoming too much, ok?”

she was so knowledgable in everything she said, it always made so much sense and whatever she said to you brought so much clarity. which was a good thing because it was her job at the end of the day. 

the rest of your session with your therapist goes very smoothly, talking about your goals for the week and habits that you’ve wanted to get into that you haven’t and other habits that have been hard for you to break and how you can get to a point of releasing those habits. 

it’s only been a few days speaking with this therapist but since she was a part of the mental health retreat you attended previously, she had your information from the retreat so you weren’t completely starting from scratch. 

you bid her goodbye with a small hug and you make your way to your car, pulling out your phone and quickly scrolling through all of the notifications before driving to your apartment. deciding that you’d respond to your texts when you got home. you listened to your new song on your drive home and you don’t realize you’re crying until your version gets too blurry. it wasn’t tears of sadness but something of release. 

like you’re releasing so much weight off your shoulders without the guilt your old self would feel for putting yourself first. as if you had become a totally new person in the last month and this new era of your life was focused on just you. 

choosing yourself and not feeling guilty for wanting to be happy.

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: guys u need to listen to this song its so beautiful like truly one of my favorite songs.. the lyrics and overall melodic value of the song is so impactful.. anyways omg now playing is almost overrrrr wahhh

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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[miamc]

i don’t think most people realize just how suffocating the pressure to be “normal” and conform was in the 80s. especially in a small town like hawkins.

even today it is very common for queer people to go years or even their whole life without coming out. how is mike having a girlfriend for like a year proof that he is straight? it’s completely invalidating of real queer people’s experiences.

even setting aside the mountain of evidence that mike is queer… what about just listening to queer people? surely we would know a thing or two about being gay and everything that comes with that. if we can recognize something in mike that relates to the queer experience why should that be ignored?

we shouldn’t be holding will’s experience as the golden standard that mike must meet in order to be gay. mike and will have different experiences and that’s reflective of real life.

will was bullied because other kids noticed he was gay, probably before he even did. his interests, behaviour, and choice of clothing was scrutinized his entire childhood. this did not happen to mike. mike did everything he was “supposed” to do. he got a girlfriend. he put on a performance of heterosexuality. and yes, i say performance, because even if you believe mike is straight, there are moments that are undeniably a “performance” like the whole s3 break up and the monologue where again, whether you think he’s straight or not, he did lie.

just because mikes experience is different than wills does not mean that he is not gay.

a lot of mlvns are totally out of touch with the past and even the present. i saw a mlvn comment that along with all the other ships (excluding byler of course), robin and vickie should get married at the end of s5. i also saw someone say that will should find a boyfriend and be openly gay in hawkins.

it’s a stark reminder that even well intentioned people don’t understand what it’s like to be gay, not even on a surface level. it seems as though the very concept of internalized homophobia (and dangerous homophobia from other people) is too complex for them to wrap their head around. and yeah it does annoy me. because even if you don’t “ship byler” or whatever, as soon as you dismiss the queer experience, i’m not listening to you. if you are not willing to understand these concepts then you have no place claiming that mike is not gay. you are just not equipped with the basic level of knowledge needed to see it. how can you understand queer people’s pain if you don’t understand that you are the source of that pain?

that’s why the idea of people saying that byler is out of nowhere genuinely haunts me because i know it will happen. no matter how they present it there will be people who think it’s just totally out of nowhere and oh my god wasn’t mike straight just a minute ago?

what i look forward to the most is mikes queer experience broadening the GA’s perspective. i want them to see that yeah, your preconceived notions and stereotypes about gay people are shitty. queer people are people and their lives and experiences are more complex than i like the same sex therefore i am going to date the same sex and i like the opposite sex therefore i am going to date the opposite sex. it’s not that easy. not today, not in ten years from now, and certainly not in in a small conservative town in indiana in the 1980s.

[00valentina-writes00]

Ur take on long distance relationship

(Ellie Williams x Reader)

something soft and sweet!!

Them doing little virtual dates,making each other playlist, playing video games, making funny google slide presentations,then sending each other love letters

But if you wanted to do something with angst and smut.

Ellie or reader has been experiencing major jealousy issues,and because of this they have been distant and annoyed with the other, leading their FaceTime call into an argument over said jealousy issues, and it ending with angsty phone sex.

Gang- the phone sex is just staring at me I’m gonna do it

✞⛧ Ellie with a long distant relationship ✞⛧

(College au ellie btw-)

✞⛧ You and Ellie have a standing virtual date every Friday night. She sets aside time to play video games with you, even though she’s usually buried in textbooks or guitar practice. When she wins, she gloats with a smug “I told you I was better,” but when you win, she makes an exaggerated pouty face and jokes that she let you win.

✞⛧ One of your favorite things is when Ellie sends you surprise playlists. You’ll get a random text from her saying, “Put on this playlist and think of me,” followed by a mix of grunge, indie, and punk that totally fits her chaotic energy. It makes you feel closer to her, even if you’re on opposite sides of the country.

✞⛧ She’s terrible at singing, but she still sends you voice memos of her trying to learn a new song. It’s hilariously off-key, but you can’t help but love how genuine and unbothered she is.

✞⛧ Sometimes, Ellie will FaceTime you with her guitar, strumming along to one of your favorite songs, hoping you’ll sing along. You’ll both end up laughing through the chorus because neither of you can hold a note, but the moment is so sweet, you don’t even care.

✞⛧ Late-night Google slides sessions become your ritual. You both work on silly slideshows, like “The Best Ways to Distract Ellie During Finals Week” or “Top 10 Ways I Would Survive In A Zombie Apocalypse (With Ellie).” Ellie takes it seriously, adding in ridiculous survival tips like “bring snacks” and “find a good Wi-Fi spot.”

✞⛧ Ellie loves sending you random memes, even when they’re not really funny to anyone but the two of you. She’ll say, “I thought you’d appreciate this one” and then give you an in-depth explanation about why it’s funny.

✞⛧ When you both miss each other, Ellie writes little handwritten notes and takes pictures of them to send. They’re simple: “I can’t wait to see you one day,” or “Just thinking about you while I pretend to study.” It’s not much, but it means everything.

✞⛧ When Ellie’s feeling down, she’ll send you one of her old mixtapes she made in high school. It’s a weird mix of angry punk and sappy love songs that she claims “speaks to her soul.” You listen to it and text her back that it’s perfect.

✞⛧ Ellie doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. She’ll text you long rants about how stressed she is with school and her side hustle, and you’re always there to remind her that she’s doing the best she can.

✞⛧ When she’s really missing you, Ellie takes a picture of her bed with your favorite hoodie on it and texts it to you with a simple message: “Wish you were here.”

✞⛧ Sometimes, you send Ellie a video of you singing along to one of her favorite songs, and she can’t help but tease you about it. “I didn’t know you had that in you,” she’ll say, but you can tell from the way she keeps replaying it that she loves it.

✞⛧ On special occasions, like birthdays or anniversaries, Ellie sends you care packages full of your favorite snacks, a mixtape, and a handwritten letter. She makes it clear that she might not be able to be there in person, but she’s thinking of you constantly.

✞⛧ Ellie can never leave you on “read” for too long. You’ll get a text from her within minutes no matter how busy she is, usually something snarky or sarcastic, but it always shows she’s thinking about you.

✞⛧ You both have inside jokes that only make sense to the two of you. Ellie has this one where she’ll send you a random picture of a cat and caption it with something like “this is the only thing keeping me sane right now,” and you’ll both crack up because it makes zero sense, but it’s hilarious anyway.

✞⛧ You love sending Ellie playlists, too, but you make sure they’re different from hers. You’ll send her one full of songs she’s never heard before, just to get her reaction when she listens to it. It’s always the same: “This is weird… but I love it.”

✞⛧ Every now and then, you’ll both spend an hour just texting each other about your dream life together. You’ll talk about the little things, like where you’d go on your first real vacation or what you’d eat for breakfast when you’re finally living in the same city.

✞⛧ When things get tough, Ellie likes to tell you stories about the worst day she’s ever had in college. It’s mostly funny and full of chaos, but you can hear the tiredness in her voice. You always remind her that it’s okay to feel worn out and that she’s still doing amazing.

✞⛧ She’s not the type to send “I love you” too often, but you always know when it’s coming. It’s in the little things, like when she texts, “I miss you, you dork,” or signs off with “talk to you soon, babe.”

✞⛧ Ellie sometimes sends you little sketches of things she’s working on. Whether it’s a half-finished drawing of a band logo or a quick sketch of the dorm room she’s stuck in, it’s something she’s proud of, and she wants to share it with you

✞⛧ She’ll randomly drop voice memos on you just to say something random. “I just saw a dog that looked exactly like you, and it made me think of you,” or “I wish you were here so I could steal your snacks.” It’s always a little weird, but in a way that only makes you smile.

✞⛧ When you both start to feel disconnected, you make a point to schedule a “real” date. You’ll set up a Zoom call, order food to eat at the same time, and just talk about anything and everything like you’re sitting across from each other at your favorite diner.

✞⛧ She’s a huge fan of sending surprise memes to keep you entertained. The more ridiculous, the better. You both end up spamming each other with stupid, unexplainable memes, and it’s the best part of your day.

✞⛧ The moment Ellie knows she’ll see you again, she starts planning. She’ll text you things like “I’m saving all my good snacks for when you get here,” or “I’m picking the worst movie to show you, I hope you’re ready.” She can’t wait to have you near her again.

✞⛧ Ellie sometimes just calls you to hear your voice, even if there’s no big conversation. You’ll talk for hours about nothing in particular, but the sound of her voice makes you feel safe, even when she’s halfway across the country.

✞⛧ You’re both masters of making the other feel special from afar. Ellie will text you little “good morning” messages even when she’s still half asleep, and you’ll send her little updates about your day that you know will make her laugh.

✞⛧ Ellie finds comfort in the small things, like knowing that you’re there to listen when she needs to vent or that you’ll never judge her for being a little messy.

Dun dun dunnn (knew you dirty animals would be looking for the smut, and I have provided)

The screen flickers slightly, the connection unstable, but Ellie’s face is crystal clear. Her sharp green eyes are narrowed, her freckled cheeks flushed with frustration, and that ever-present smirk of hers is nowhere to be seen. Instead, her lips are pressed into a thin line, her jaw tight. You can practically hear the tension crackling through the air, even through the distance separating you.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she says, her voice low and edged with accusation. Her fingers tap impatiently against the edge of her desk, the sound muffled but insistent. “What’s going on, huh? You’ve been so distant lately. I feel like I’m talking to a ghost.”

You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. The dorm room around her is a mess—guitar picks scattered on the floor, a half-eaten bag of chips on her bed, and the faint glow of string lights illuminating her chaotic space. But you’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the way she’s looking at you, like she’s already decided you’re guilty of something.

“Distant? Seriously, Ellie?” you shoot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Maybe I’m just busy. Not everyone’s got time to hang out at skate parks or sell weed to freshmen, you know.”

Her eyes flash, and for a moment, she looks like she’s about to snap back. But then she exhales sharply, running a hand through her messy brown hair. It’s a gesture she only makes when she’s really trying to keep her cool.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, her voice quieter now but still laced with frustration. “I just… I feel like you’re pulling away. Like there’s something you’re not telling me. And I can’t help but wonder if—” She cuts herself off, biting her lip.

“If what?” You lean forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “If I’m cheating on you? Is that what you’re thinking?”

Ellie flinches, her sharp features softening for just a moment before she hardens again. “Well, are you? Because I’m not gonna lie, it’s been on my mind. You’ve been so… off. And it’s not just me. Even your friends are saying you’ve been acting weird.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, that’s rich. Coming from you. The girl who spends half her life ‘delivering product’ to random people. How do I know you’re not the one sneaking around?”

Her eyes widen, and for a second, she looks genuinely hurt. But then that smirk of hers returns, though it’s darker now, more defensive. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You’re gonna turn this around on me? Fine. Let’s do this. You wanna know if I’m cheating? Here.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, she’s standing up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She reaches for the hem of her hoodie, pulling it off in one swift motion. Her vintage band tee follows, revealing her wiry, athletic frame. Her skin is pale and freckled, the fern tattoo on her forearm standing out starkly against her flesh.

Your breath catches in your throat as she undoes the button of her jeans, sliding them down her legs with a practiced ease. She kicks them aside, standing there in just her boxers and a black sports bra. Her sharp green eyes lock onto yours through the screen, challenging you.

“Go ahead,” she says, her voice steady but tinged with defiance. “Look. No scratches. No hickeys. Nothing. You wanna know where I’ve been? Here. Dealing with your bullshit.”

Your heart is racing now, your mouth dry. But then something in you snaps, something defensive and raw. “Oh, sure. Like you’re the only one who’s allowed to be jealous. You think I haven’t noticed how secretive you’ve been? How you’re always ‘busy’ when I call? Fine. You wanna see? Here.”

You stand up, your chair nearly tipping over in your haste. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of your shirt, but you manage to pull it off, tossing it to the floor. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on you, watching every move. Your jeans come next, sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You’re standing there in just your bra and underwear, your chest rising and falling with every breath.

“Happy now?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and vulnerability. “No scratches. No hickeys. Just me. But maybe you should be asking yourself why you’re so quick to accuse me when you’re the one who’s always hiding something.”

Ellie’s smirk falters, and for a moment, she looks almost… guilty. She crosses her arms over her chest, her bare skin glowing in the dim light of her dorm room. “I’m not hiding anything,” she says, but her voice lacks its usual confidence. “I just… I worry, okay? You’re my girl. And I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The vulnerability in her voice catches you off guard, and suddenly, the anger that’s been simmering between you both feels like it’s starting to dissolve. You sit back down, your legs feeling shaky beneath you.

“Ellie…” you start, but she’s already shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice soft now. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to hurt you. I just… I needed to know. And I didn’t know how else to ask.”

You let out a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry too,” you admit. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pulling away. I just… I’ve been stressed. With school, with work… and yeah, maybe I’ve been a little paranoid. But not because I don’t trust you. Because I… I don’t know. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

Ellie’s expression softens, and for the first time since this whole argument started, she looks at you without that guarded edge in her eyes. “Say what?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That you’re mine,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “That no matter what, you’re mine.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Then, slowly, she reaches for the waistband of her boxers, sliding them down her legs. Her sports bra follows, leaving her completely bare. Her skin is smooth, her body wiry and toned, the fern tattoo on her arm seeming to almost dance in the dim light.

“I’m yours,” she says, her voice steady but tinged with something deeper, something raw. “Always.”

Your heart is pounding now, your body responding to her in ways you can’t ignore. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach for your own bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor. Your panties follow, leaving you completely exposed to her gaze.

“I’m yours too,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Always.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you, the tension palpable even through the screen. Then, slowly, Ellie reaches down, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her sharp green eyes never leave yours as she spreads her legs slightly, her fingers moving lower, tracing the delicate folds of her pussy.

Your breath catches in your throat, your own hand instinctively moving between your legs. You can feel the wetness there, the ache that’s been building inside you. Ellie’s fingers slip inside her, her sharp intake of breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Touch yourself,” she says, her voice low and husky. “Let me see you.”

Your fingers move of their own accord, slipping inside you as you watch her do the same. Her movements are slow, deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours. You can hear the soft, breathy moans escaping her lips, the way her body trembles with every touch.

“Ellie…” you moan her name, your fingers moving faster now, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room. Her lips part, a soft gasp escaping them as she watches you, her own fingers moving in rhythm with yours.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “I miss you. I miss touching you. I miss feeling you.”

“I miss you too,” you whimper, your body trembling as the pleasure builds inside you. “So much.”

Her fingers move faster now, her soft, whimpery moans filling your ears. You can see the way her body tenses, the way her hips lift off the bed as she gets closer to the edge. Your own fingers move faster, the slick wetness between your thighs a testament to how much you need her.

“Come for me,” she whispers, her voice raw and desperate. “I wanna see you come.”

Your body obeys her without hesitation, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. You cry out her name, your fingers still moving inside you as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Ellie’s own orgasm follows moments later, her body trembling as she falls back against the bed, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you, the only sound the soft hum of the computer fan and the sound of your own breathing. Then, slowly, Ellie reaches for the screen, her fingers brushing against the image of your face.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice soft and tender. “More than anything.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your heart aching with the need to be close to her. “Always.”

[mamabuni]

-> thinking about how fun it’d be to bake with my little, making something like cookies together after a long day to have some mama / baby time ! (´◡｀*) zzz

𝜗𝜚 i’d measure out all the ingredients and let my little darling dump all the ingredients into the bowl, being careful to not spill anything, but giggling if we do a bit (because mistakes happen sometimes, and that’s totally okay!) ♡♡

𝜗𝜚 together we’d mix mix mix up all the ingredients until it turns into a nice and sticky batter, and i’d give my sweetie so many compliments for doing such a good job !! i’d also have to be a very attentive mama though and keep a close eye to be sure that we’re not sneaking any of the uncooked cookie dough while she forms the cookies on the tray hehe ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

𝜗𝜚 then mama would put the cookies in the oven since my baby is just a bit too little for that, and we would watch a show or listen to some music while waiting ! patience is important to practice, but mama would make sure to help as much as she can to make the time pass by quickly !!

𝜗𝜚 and once the yummy treats are finally done, mama would settle done with her little one, happily sharing the finished cookies with some milk on the side (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) yum !!! 🍪🥛🤍

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

For just a moment, he faltered. He knows he's insecure, it's one of his biggest flaws, but he thinks maybe right now he should be. Maybe he's stepped too far. Maybe this isn't his place.

He shrugs that off just as soon as it comes. This is more important than being polite.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, words careful with his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted he'd get that, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You firmly remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his stomach and a twist and head spinning as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, warmth seeping into your tight muscles.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a last priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his unrelenting germaphobia. He winces. "I hate you."

The mindfulness applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself. None of this is your fault."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile, which appears hopelessly pathetic considering the salt stains marring your cheeks. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He mets your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer reinforced his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he observed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself, still sniffling in the aftershocks.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[abiatackerman]

Having Levi as your lover would be an incredibly wholesome and peaceful experience. Beyond his overprotectiveness when it comes to your safety, he is a genuinely comforting presence. He may not be the most expressive person, but his quiet devotion speaks louder than words.

As much as it pains me to admit, Levi doesn't have a high opinion of himself. The manga has shown just how insecure he is, and that extends to his feelings for you as well. He would never make the first move because, deep down, he doesn't believe he's good enough for you.

However, that doesn't mean he would glare at you every time you smile at another man. In fact, he'd be the total opposite. As long as you're happy, he won't complain. Your happiness is all that matters to him, even if it means you end up with someone else. Still, he'll always remain by your side, ensuring you're safe and well, even if he never voices his feelings.

That being said, Levi will step in if he thinks you're doing something risky or harmful to yourself. At that point, he won't hesitate to barge into your life, even if it annoys you. Having lost almost everyone he has ever cared about, he refuses to lose you too. He will issue silent but firm warnings to anyone who dares to hurt you and will always do his best to protect you. And at that moment, you might start to realize just how deep his feelings are, for you.

If you tell him you don't share his feelings and ask him not to interfere in your life, he will respect your wishes. He'll be hurt, but he'll never let you see it. Even from afar, he will continue to watch over you, making sure you're safe and happy. If you find someone else who treats you well, Levi won't act rudely toward them. Instead, he'll give them a simple, stoic warning: Take care of her.

But if you confess your feelings to him, choosing to make him a permanent part of your life, he will be secretly overjoyed. Because of his insecurities, he would never expect you to love him back, so when you take that first step without letting pride hold you back, you'll thank yourself forever because you'll realise that you have found one of the most non-toxic men to love.

Why do I call him non-toxic? Because Levi would be the most understanding lover. He would listen to all your complaints and genuinely try to change for you. If he knows that his cursing or blunt words hurt you, he will make an effort to be more mindful. No matter what it takes, he will try to make you happy, because despite his dark past, you have chosen to love him—and he will do everything in his power to be the man you deserve.

🩷If you wanna be tagged let me know🩷

Masterlist

Tags: @theremainsof @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @anti-cupid @meowmewow7 @mikabella7 @satorella @sugacor3 @darkstarlight82 @derealizationns

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Decked Under the Mistletoe - Christmas Special

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: A holiday party, a little too much eggnog, and a rivalry that’s anything but friendly. Tara Carpenter swears she won’t be the first to crack, but with the whole friend group watching—and meddling—fate has other plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

The holiday season had crept into New York like a quiet snowfall, slow and inevitable. Fairy lights were strung across the streets, wreaths hung on doors, and the faint sound of Christmas music spilled from every other storefront. The chill in the air was just enough to nip at exposed skin, a crisp reminder that December was in full swing. Inside the Carpenter apartment, however, the warmth of bodies, laughter, and the lingering scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate made it feel like an entirely different world.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Mindy announced, clapping her hands as she stood in the center of the living room, grinning like she was about to announce the greatest event of the century. “We’re making bets.”

I arched a brow from where I was sitting on the arm of the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. “Bets?”

Mindy nodded. “Holiday bets. You know, harmless stuff—who’s gonna drink too much eggnog first, how long until Anika falls asleep on the couch, and of course—” she turned toward Tara with a smirk, “—which one of you is gonna break first.”

Tara, who had been in the middle of sipping her cocoa, froze mid-drink. “What?”

“Oh, don’t ‘what’ me, Carpenter.” Mindy waved a hand between us. “You and Y/N have been dancing around each other for months. It’s exhausting. Someone’s gotta fold.”

Tara scoffed, setting her mug down with a thud. “Please. If anything, Y/N would break first.”

I smirked, leaning forward. “Oh? That sounds like a challenge.”

“It is,” she shot back without hesitation.

The rest of the group laughed, fully entertained by our ongoing back-and-forth. It was no secret that Tara and I had an… interesting relationship. We got under each other’s skin, pushed buttons, and exchanged sharp remarks like they were gifts. It wasn’t toxic, not really—it was just our thing.

“So what’s the bet?” Chad asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Mindy’s grin stretched wider. “Who caves first and admits they actually like the other.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“Agreed,” I added. “Mostly because there’s nothing to admit.”

“Sure, sure,” Mindy said, clearly not buying it. “But just in case, I’m putting my money on Tara caving first.”

“Excuse me?” Tara snapped, looking personally offended.

Mindy shrugged. “You’ve got that little glare, but it’s totally just covering the fact that you’re dying inside.”

Tara muttered something under her breath and crossed her arms, looking away. Sam, from her spot in the kitchen, simply sighed and continued stirring her tea, clearly tuning out our antics.

The night continued as expected—banter, games, and far too much sugar. At some point, Chad got wrapped in tinsel (“I am the Christmas King,” he declared), Anika did, in fact, pass out on the couch, and I caught Tara glancing at me more times than I could count.

Then came the mistletoe.

It wasn’t planned—not on my part, anyway. One second, Tara and I were arguing over which Christmas movie deserved the top spot (“Die Hard is a Christmas movie!” “It absolutely is not!”), and the next, Mindy was shoving us right under the doorway where, sure enough, a tiny sprig of mistletoe hung mockingly above our heads.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Mindy feigned innocence. “House rules say you gotta kiss.”

Tara’s jaw clenched. “Mindy.”

Mindy beamed. “Tara.”

A heavy silence stretched between us, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling a little too hot.

Tara folded her arms and scoffed. “Yeah, not happening.”

“Aww,” I teased, tilting my head. “What’s wrong, Carpenter? Afraid you might like it?”

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might sprain something. “Please, in your dreams.”

“So you have thought about it?”

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” I pointed out.

Tara glared, jaw tightening as she flicked her gaze toward the mistletoe, then back to me. I could see her debating it, weighing her options. Then, with an almost resigned exhale, she grabbed my hoodie and yanked me down, pressing her lips to mine in a way that was far more forceful than necessary—but I wasn’t complaining.

The room collectively lost its mind.

Someone (probably Mindy) whooped, someone else clapped, and I could vaguely hear Chad shouting, “Called it!” over the noise. But none of that mattered, not when Tara was kissing me like she had something to prove, her lips warm and a little too soft, her grip firm like she wasn’t planning to let go just yet.

Then, just as suddenly, she pulled back, her eyes burning into mine, her lips slightly parted.

“There,” she muttered. “Happy?”

Mindy was practically vibrating. “Oh, ecstatic.”

Tara huffed and turned to storm off, but before she could fully escape, a solid punch landed against my arm.

I grunted. “Ow, what the hell?”

Sam, standing beside me now, shook out her hand like she was barely fazed. “That’s for every time Tara’s come home ranting about how annoying you are.”

I blinked. “She rants about me?”

Sam ignored me. “And if you mess with her? I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

I swallowed. “Noted.”

With that, she turned and walked off, leaving me standing there, rubbing my arm while Mindy cackled in the background.

“Well,” she mused, “that was worth every penny.”

Chad clapped me on the back. “Merry Christmas, dude.”

Tara, across the room, was pretending to be completely unfazed. But when our eyes met, she held my gaze for a second too long before looking away, her cheeks still tinted the faintest shade of pink.

Maybe Mindy had been onto something after all.

The party had finally started winding down, guests slipping on their coats and saying their goodbyes, laughter still lingering in the air like the scent of cinnamon and pine. One by one, the group trickled out into the chilly New York night, some still buzzing from the evening’s events—especially the mistletoe situation.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside, shoving my hands into my pockets to brace against the cold. Tara was right behind me, moving quietly as the others scattered toward their cars or the sidewalk, chatting amongst themselves. When I reached my car, I expected her to just say goodnight and head off, but she lingered, shifting slightly on her feet.

It wasn’t like her. Tara Carpenter wasn’t one to hesitate. But here she was, looking uncharacteristically unsure.

I leaned against the car door, smirking slightly. “Something on your mind, Carpenter?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah,” I mused. “But you’re still standing here.”

Tara sucked in a breath. “Do you… like me?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. Then, grinning, “What gave it away? The months of flirting? The fact that I let you win that stupid gingerbread argument? Or was it the part where I didn’t drop dead after you kissed me?”

Tara groaned, shoving me. “You’re the worst.”

I caught her wrist before she could move away. “But to answer your question—yeah, I do.”

She hesitated for a beat before closing the space between us, pressing her lips to mine.

Then—

“OH MY GOD, IT’S OFFICIAL!”

We turned to see the entire group on the stoop, Mindy fist-pumping, Chad doubled over laughing.

Tara groaned and buried her face in my neck. “Kill me.”

I laughed, pulling her closer. “Way to embarrass my girlfriend, guys.”

Tara twitched and jabbed me in the ribs, making me wince. “Ow—”

“Don’t push your luck, genius,” she muttered. Then, before I could recover, she kissed my jaw with a smirk. “Besides… looks like I won after all.”

The group cheered again as I groaned, Tara’s laughter warm against the cold night air.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I clapped my hands and squealed when I saw this! I love it whenever people talk about my ideas and characters. It's always so rewarding, so I have to give back to something that makes me so happy.

You're so right about him apologizing for his rambles. I just wrote the first part of the fanfic (again, it's subject to change. It's 3 a.m., but I feel pretty good about this one). I'm jumping off the scene where you first meet Rook. Even then, he apologizes for getting off track.

It's sad because he's so genuine. However, I do know that when he rambles. He goes ooooooon. I remember Vil saying in Chapter 6 that he went on for 5 hrs about how he would've acted in one of Vil's scenes. I relate to the feeling so hard. I do this, but I have less shame about it. Plus, I have someone willing to listen to my rambles because they love me and think my enthusiasm is cute. It's my boyfriend. I love him. He's a cutie. Therefore, I wanna give that experience to Rook. Thinking about it, my rambles have gotten shorter, lasting around 15-30 mins rather than a whole 5 hrs. The reason is because I have a steady stream of attention. Bottling it up will give you 5 hrs, but if you do it consistently, it'll be shorter. Big brain. I came up with that on the fly. Proud of myself. Congratulations, you got one of my signature rambles lol.

Wait, wait, wait, I have thoughts about Vil and Rook! I've never gotten to speak about this before, so I'm enthusiastic, like our favorite hunter.

They're interesting because Rook and Vil are equals. Rook treats Vil like an equal. Vil doesn't get that a lot. He either looks down on people (or perhaps gives the illusion that he looks down on them (unclear)), or others put him on a pedestal due to celebrity status. There aren't many people close to him that can say they're equal to Vil. Or maybe it's more accurate to say stand up to Vil, and he listens. Rook tells truths to Vil straight. Now, there's a reason for blunt delivery. He might be a little "mean" or "insensitive," but my god, Vil is thickheaded. He's so pompous that most criticism gets thrown away because he doesn't think they're credible. Rook has to be callous to get to Vil.

Now, this isn't Rook's normal behavior. I remember when our favorite hunter reassured and helped Deuce after he ran out of practice in the 5th chapter. He was helpful and kind then. Therefore, I'm under the assumption that with Vil, he has to be mean. He has to be rough for the blonde to even consider the criticism.

Now, a few other things are interesting about their relationship. First is how Rook approached Vil without reserve... You know... now thinking about it... He might have gone to him because he would be the only one to listen or discuss his interests. Hahahaha, I'm laughing because that's both sad and hilarious. I can totally see Rook approaching Vil specifically with the thought, "People love talking about themselves." Perhaps that's why Rook got close to Vil. Vil's self-absorbed, so the topic of the hunter wouldn't come up that often. It's a surefire way to have him talk about his interests without reservation. It also showed Vil that Rook was credible and his thoughts were good because he showcased value in their talks. Not only did he talk about the good aspects but also the bad. That's something a true fan does. I love that.

I also feel like he's less intimidated by Vil than Neige, because Rook looks up to the RSA student. I'll be a little mean here. Vil has been the villain in basically all his works with Neige. It's probably easier for Rook to separate Vil from his villain role. The hunter knows that just because he plays the antagonist doesn't mean they're bad. So because he wasn't a hardcore fan of Vil, it was easier for him to befriend him. As his friend, he supports and loves Vil, but the blonde isn't his ultimate idol.

Now, I take the whole butting heads thing to be Rook just doing his own thing, and Vil being annoyed that he can't control Rook's actions. Everyone knows Vil likes being in charge and in control. So Rook is different and the reason why Vil doesn't force his control is two reasons. 1) He respects Rook. It's obvious by the way Vil doesn't pry into his suitcase during chapter 5. During that scene, it also implies that Vil knows how much Rook values his privacy. So Vil respects Rook. 2) He knows if he ever did force him, Rook would stand up to him. If Vil didn't get his act together, Rook would leave. Rook does his own thing. He has a moral code and will that isn't swayed by outside factors.

I think Vil is also more often annoyed by Rook in an "official" capacity. Rook isn't bound by duty like Vil is. The hunter tends to go wherever his heart leads him. It's why he goes after Vil in Chapter 6 instead of doing his duty as the vice leader. Therefore, it makes him a little more incompetent in an official capacity. Again, look at Chapter 6. Vil scolds him as the prefect and then as himself, saying he loves the whole crew for coming to get him. I do think Vil can become genuinely annoyed and irritated in that aspect. However, as a friend, they love each other.

Another aspect is that they work well together. Vil tends to be overly harsh, causing a lot of conflict, but Rook defuses it. They work together in that aspect, and I think Vil knows this. He might be semi-annoyed, but I don't think he's super annoyed. He's probably just judgmental, which is Vil's baseline lol

Anyway those are my unfiltered thoughts. I'm sure I repeated myself multiple times, but it's 4 am, so... here you go lol

As everyone knows, I bounce between fics based on my creative inspiration and rn I’m writing a Rook x Reader fanfic.

Now, this one is interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this concept before…

The closest thing I’ve read is probably @solxamber’s Ruler of My Heart. It’s one of my favorite Rook x Reader fanfic of all time. She peels back the layers to Rook’s character, portraying something more honest and vulnerable. It’s fantastic. If you haven’t read it, do it now.

I read that fanfic and thought I could never even touch that level of artistry. However, I feel like I’ve come up with a solid base for something good.

I haven’t seen a lot of full fanfics where Rook feels threatened. I’ve seen some drabbles where he’s felt scared and is able to deal with the threat swiftly. However, those tend to be about MC being threatened. Even in the canon story, Rook is more concerned with the safety of others rather than himself. It makes sense considering his fantastic skills.

Therefore, the man tends to be unflappable. Even if he does feel unnerved, he covers it up expertly. He can manually adjust his heart rate and breathing. However, some people can see past the facade, like Trey. Look at the Halloween event for instance.

Rook has a weakness though. He’s a private person. He doesn’t like people knowing about his past too much. Other than what he portrays to the world, which is his more of his upbeat and over the top self, he doesn’t want people to know about him. That’s his weakness.

My fanfic idea is an observant reader. Someone that makes Rook feel uncomfortable and borderline threatened because they just guessed almost everything about him upon their first meeting. That is objectively terrifying. There’s someone who matches his level of observation. Unlike Trey, who’s low key about it, MC doesn’t know that, especially at first. They almost give away too much information. Rook deals with the situation but they both know what he’s done to intervene.

So, I plan to have the main inner conflict be Rook hesitating to trust the Reader. The external conflict will obviously be Vil. Once again, I have a strange obsession with Chapter 5. I think it’s because it’s the perfect set up. There’s so many different possible conflicts and resolutions. I also don’t have to think much in terms of coming up with my own situation and set up. It’s built in there. Work smarter not harder lol

Anyway, that’s my idea for now. Let me know your thoughts. Always love interacting with people about my works and ideas

I also have thoughts regarding Rook general behavior that might be interesting. However, I’m tired, so that’ll probably be a separate post. Let me know if you’re interested.

Tagging @es-sharezone because u love Rook lol

[its-quiet-colter]

Mile High Club.

Agent Whiskey x Agent Pisco - Male! Reader

Word Count: 3926

Warnings: NSFW smut (18+), implied switch!whiskey & reader, friends with benefits, blowjob, handjob, thigh fucking, denial of feelings, semi-public sex (kinda) they b fuckin' in the plane.

Notes: this is apart of the Pisco and Whiskey series so i'll link part one. they're stand alones but meant to be read together :) i'm hoping for five or six parts in total !

| Part One | Part Two |

| archive of our own |

The Statesman’s private jet rumbles low and smooth as it makes its way towards Kentucky above the cloudline. It’s warm inside, with the faint smell of the distillery still lingering in the plane’s interior. The leather chair you’ve claimed as your own for the journey home is luxurious, the leather worn and high quality with its soft finishes and suede accents. The Statesman emblem embroidered onto the arm of the seat. 

Turbulence does little to unsettle the plane as its engine – high grade and expensive – keeps the ride graceful. It’s almost enough to lull you into a gentle sleep. And lord do you need it after your latest mission. There’s an ache in your shoulders that’s been there since this morning and a nasty bruise on the right side of your ribcage, left there from a chase through an underground marketplace. Turns out the selling of illicit drugs and illegal weapons was a high enough priority  for you and Whiskey to be sent out on a wild goose chase after the suppliers. But you were left empty handed, with nothing but battered bodies, bruised egos and both of your positions compromised to show for it.

You’re exhausted as you slump against the cushioning of the armchair, the scotch on your drinks tray having already been refilled twice over. You needed something to settle your nerves after such a long and grueling day out on the field. 

Ginger’s voice sounds muffled, distant and far away. Even as she only leans against the pool table in the middle of the room, folder in hand as she recites the debrief and talks you through the next steps. You fiddle with your tie again and look over to see Whiskey’s already pulled his free and has discarded it somewhere, undoing the buttons of his once crisp white shirt. It's there you realised he also stopped listening sometime between Ginger’s report of missing firearms and the serial numbers you found on the crates. 

Whiskey’s always been a little bit restless, always wanting to get out into the field and fix things himself– to not get bogged down in the paperwork and the meticulous details that Statesman requires of their agents. And he certainly never entertains Ginger when it’s her turn to run the post-mission debriefs.

Being an agent, much less one with a partner like Whiskey, has always been a cause for trouble. You’re exhausted and wrung out more often than you’d like to admit. But you love him, in your own fond way. Even if he landed you in Champ’s office more times than you can count for cutting corners and not listening to the intel provided. Convinced he can do it all himself. You remember Champ’s clear advice on the day you two were first paired together. Back when you were fresh out of the academy without the slightest idea of what Statesman had in store for you.

“He’s your responsibility, Pisco. Kid’s as reckless as you are. And I can’t have both my young bucks in trouble. I need you to be the level headed one– watch each other’s backs and keep the other out of trouble. Do that, and I think you two will do just fine here.” Champ had said with his classic southern drawl, rolling a vintage cigar in his fingers as he had gestured to the seat at the table that would always be held for Pisco. 

You’ll never forget the fond but expectant look he had given you when he welcomed you to the Statesman and told you Whiskey was yours as much as you were about to be his. Champ hadn’t meant it like that, of course. Partners in crime, the one to keep each other safe. Statesman could provide all the surveillance and intel you needed, but out there in the field– where explosions and bullets are occupational hazards rather than one-off incidents, it’s you who’d be out there covering his back. Partners, but not of that kind.

But then again, Champ didn’t think you two would end up frotting in the back of Tequila's jeep not even a year after being assigned together.

Lost in the thoughts of the good old days, you’ve completely given up on trying to pay attention to Ginger’s speech. I’ll apologize later, you think. Ginger’s always been a friend, and she puts up with your and Whiskey’s bullshit more times than either of you can count. You watch the jet pass through a thick layer of clouds, idly noticing the dew on the outside window and the way the landscape below disappears and reappears in quick succession. It’s rhythmic and soothing and enough to take your mind off things for a while.

Whiskey watches from his own seat opposite you. 

He notices the slight scuff on the side of your cheek from the chase during the mission, the way your suit is slightly askew and wrecked, and the way you’re reclined in the soft leather of the armchair– exhausted under the guise of being relaxed and boneless. He knows your appearance is due to the fact you’ve been running around all day, narrowly escaping every dangerous threat thrown at you. But in the soft lighting of the jet, he can’t help but think you’re not too far off from the dishevelled state he often leaves you in. When you’d both sneak away from those dry and boring meetings. Hidden amongst the barrels in the cellar that hoards Statesman’s finest collection of bourbon, Whiskey would be down on his knees, your cock taken down his throat as he milked you for all you had.

The sight of you now is all but a reminder of the taste of you.

It’s only been a week since you fucked him over the couch in that Seattle hotel, your hands holding onto his sides as he took all of you with his back arched and mouth left open in a drawn out moan. He can still feel you, the way you tugged on his belt to pull it loose, your hands moving him in whatever way it suited. He remembers the feel of your lips around the base of his cock, and the way you nailed his prostate which never failed to send him over the edge. 

Any other man would be flushed and embarrassed by the memory. But not Whiskey. All it does is serve to make his slacks grow tighter and his eagerness for you all the more intense.

You watch as he glares at Ginger, almost bothered by how methodical and well rounded she is with her research. Like he can’t wait to be done with this meeting and you wonder what’s gotten him so restless. It can't just be boredom, he’s always found a way to entertain himself through debriefs before. But then you notice it.

There it is. The slight shuffle of his body across the armchair as he tries not-so-subtly to hide his hard on by crossing one leg over the other and placing his hat over his lap. It takes all that’s in you not to laugh at the sight. Whiskey doesn’t know what subtlety is if it hit him square in the face.

You watch with satisfaction as Whiskey shifts, and then shifts again. The slight squeeze of his thighs and the way his ankles lock together. Awkwardly, he tries to alleviate the pressure in his pants, the faintest hint of friction enough to bite his top lip and lick the bristles of his just-barely overgrown moustache. He’s overdue for a trim, you think idly as you watch the movement of Whiskey’s mouth. The smallest of movements is more than enough to flood your mind with thoughts of him– lips around the head of your cock– and suddenly he’s not the only one suffering through Ginger’s debrief.

By the time she’s finished, clicking the off button on her clipboard and standing up straight, it feels like hours have passed. In reality, it’s more like twenty minutes or so, but it’s enough for you to settle your arousal and not embarrass yourself in front of your colleagues. Whiskey on the other hand has no such luck with his predicament, and you watch with a bitten back grin as he bolts to the bathroom the second she’s done talking. Almost tripping along the way as the door slams a little too harshly in a desperate attempt to separate himself from the rest of the plane.

“What’s up with Whiskey?” Ginger asks, standing beside you as she watches him go in slight confusion. There’s a gentle curiosity in her voice, along with an underlying tone of concern. She might not always see eye to eye with Whiskey, but she does care about him. You all do.

“No sé,” You say softly with a shake of your head, your hands stuffed in your pockets to hide the urge to fidget uncomfortably. “He’s probably just got flight sickness.”

She knows you’re lying. 

Ginger’s always been the perceptive one and it’s so blatantly obvious you’re not telling the truth since Whiskey has never been known to get sick whilst flying. Hell, he’s one of the few Statesman agents who is qualified to fly their F-22A Raptor Fighter Jet, Silver Pony. Something that Tequila never lets any of you hear the end of whenever he’s in a bad mood from having failed another pilot’s test.

The sound of a thud comes from the direction of the bathroom and you take it as your que to leave.

“I should check on him,” You say, the concern in your voice is only mildly convincing. You know exactly what’s wrong with him.

“Alright.” Ginger says with a final nod of her head, her fingers holding her clipboard like it’s suddenly become more interesting. She’s read the room, and she knows whatever is behind that bathroom door is a Pisco problem, not a Statesman one.

You watch as she makes her way to the bar, taking a seat and reaching over the counter for the closest bottle she can reach. She knows, you think. You have half a mind to ditch Whiskey and turn to her. Maybe you’d defend yourself, deny it. Try to assure yourself and Ginger that there’s nothing going on between you two. Nothing serious anyway. This thing you have with Whiskey– it’s professional. It won’t compromise either of you. You swear it. But even as you think the speech over in your head, the words sound unconvincing even to yourself.

The tick of your watch goes off. Another hour passed, and another hour closer until you’re back in Kentucky. It’s distractingly loud for such a small device as you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other. But maybe you’re just hyper aware of every little sound on the jet, too worked up to focus on just one thing. Undecided which direction you should walk as the silence rings out heavy in the room. You bite the inside of your cheek, considering both options before another thud is heard from the direction of the bathroom and your mind is made up for you.

Before you know it, you’re knocking on the door of the bathroom as you swear and fuss under your breath.

The lock clicks open, and Whiskey’s hand reaches out to tug you in with a handful of your shirt, shuffling awkwardly against the small counter to make room for you.

“Coño, could you have been any louder, Whiskey?” You grumble half-heartedly but he’s quick to bring you in for a searing kiss, well past the point of wanting to hear the lecture about public decency and professionalism in the workspace. Not when he’s preoccupied with the feel of your tongue over his teeth and your hands sliding up under his shirt to feel hot skin.

“Pisco.” Whiskey groans your name, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his head falls back against the bathroom wall. You go with him, following the movement until he lets your lip go as his mouth falls slack in a moan. God, he wants you.

It’s the first time you’ve taken a decent look at him since entering the bathroom. His suit’s ruined; blazer discarded against the lid of the toilet, his shirt rumpled and untucked with only half the buttons undone. Whiskey’s slacks are undone, belt still left in the loops as they rest around his thighs along with his underwear. One hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking himself desperately as he bucks and hisses into his palm. Desperate, you think. His eyes half-lidded and wanting as he looked at you expectantly.

Whiskey’s always been a show off. He’s come more times than he’s willing to admit, showing off for you. He loves to lay back and stroke his cock, arching and moan as he almost dares you to come over and make a mess of him. Whiskey is a man that loves to rile you up and play dirty, but you’ve seen how his own arousal betrays him. When his eyes widen and he tenses up when he realises he’s come too early and left spoiled in front of you.

“Pisco–” He moans again, this time his voice carrying a slight whine. Impatience is getting to him after being so worked up for a majority of the plane ride.

Whiskey reaches out, grabbing hold of your lapel. His thighs part as much as they can underneath the fabric of his slacks, wanting you closer so he can feel the press of your body against his own. He abandons his own leaking cock, needing both hands to tug at your belt and tug at the offending fabric keeping your arousal hidden.

“Come on, sugar.” Whiskey urges you on, tugging on the waistband of your to pull your member out from its confides. His hand, calloused and warm and already coated in his own precum, strokes you with a long drawn out movement from your base all the way up to thumb the tip.

Your head falls on his shoulder, groaning into the fabric of his shirt as your hips jut into his fist. It’s hasty and hurried, but the heat around you both from your breathy moans and body temperature has your head feeling light.

The bathroom is relatively simple, barely enough room for one person. There’s a small shower, a sink with a washer and cabinet mirror and a toilet in the corner. Everything is the same cream colour, but with the light off it's hard to notice so much– such an afterthought compared to the rest of the jet’s luxurious amenities. But you distinctly remember overhearing Champ telling Ginger all the planes are due for a remodel soon anyway.

“Switch with me,” Whiskey moans against your cheek, his hand moving fast around your cock. His own desperation making him more than eager. “Please darlin’.”

With a nod, you pull back enough to let Whiskey shuffle awkwardly around you. Trying to step over your leg without banging his tailbone against the counter. He can’t help but buck his hips when the movement has him grinding his oversensitive cock against your hip and he has to take a moment to just grip your shirt and stave off his orgasm. You can feel his hands flex as he clutches at your clothing, the way he tenses and he grinds his teeth together with his eyes squeezed shut. Frustrated at how close he is already as his hips roll forward.

“Steady.” The confidence in your voice surprises even yourself, sounding more put together than Whiskey, even if you feel just as riled up. “We’re good.”

You both shuffle around until your back is pressed up against the wall, your slacks down around your ankles. Whiskey spits in his palm, heavy and warm, his tongue lolling out lazily as heat pools low in your stomach at the sight. He rubs the insides of your thighs, feeling warm skin and strong muscle as he takes his time with all of you on offer.

Whiskey moves forward, his chest flushed against your own as he puts his cock between your thighs and thrusts languidly.

“Squeeze 'em for me, darlin’.” He moans, head tipped forward against your neck with his forearms planted either side of you.

The feel of Whiskey all around you, the smell of arousal and the warmth in your gut. It’s everything you love about him. How you two fit together perfectly. You do as you're told, thighs squeezing around his leaking cock as he bucks forward and thrusts against you frantically. His pace set early as he chases his own pleasure.

You can feel the weight of him against you, the way he thrusts into the heat between your thighs and you’re reminded to let him fuck you again the next time more space allows for it. He’s left you sated and properly wrung out more times than you can count.

“Yeah, so good, sugar.” Whiskey huffs under his breath, the praise delivered right against your ear. You can feel the brush of his moustache, the warmth of his soft little pants as he kisses down your neck and sucks a dark mark.

“Whiskey– below the collar.” You complain, pulling him into an open-mouthed to keep him from making it any less obvious between you two. Tongues roll together and the bristles of his facial hair against your top lip have you shivering as he whines into your kiss.

“You know that’s not how this works.” You’re left panting when you pull away, looking at him as your noses bump against one another.

“I heard ya, darlin’,” Whiskey says, his voice wrecked and as equally disheveled but the slight undertone of disappointment is there. You know him too well not to notice it.

You press an apologetic kiss to his lips, something soft and tender to cut through all the arousal and heat. His breath gets lighter, caught by something in his throat as you tug his buttons open and reveal his collarbone.

Whiskey’s cock twitches between the warm press of your thighs as you bite at his collar and leave a sprawl of little hickies and love bites. There’s the distinct taste of his sweat, his skin warm and smooth under your lips. If you could, you’d lay him out on a bed and kiss over every little bit of skin offered.

“Happy?” You ask, and his triumphant grin tells you all you need to know.

“Course I am, sugar.” Whiskey purrs against your lips as his eyes flash with excited arousal. His hips pick up their pace and he’s moaning against you. Precum beads from his tip, making the slide of his cock between your legs feel that much better.

Your hands move down his back, making him shiver as you brush against his waist. He thinks you’re going to settle on his hips, ease the movement of his thrusts– he loves when you set his pace, making him thrust at the tempo you want. a real cowboy through and through as he rides his stallion– but no. Your hands slide lower, down to Whiskey’s cheeks where you cup warm muscle in your palms and squeeze.

He moans, loud and filthy. 

Whiskey bucks forward into the tight heat of your thighs and then pushes back against your hands. The soreness in your bodies and the bruises littered all over you both are forgotten in the hazy fog of arousal. All he can think about is the heat of your muscled thighs around his cock and the way you hold him open. Whiskey can’t help the choked noise that falls from his lips at the brush of cold air against his hole. 

You kiss his temple, his cheek, whatever you can reach as his head rests against your own– almost like a warm and intimate embrace. Whiskey moans against your skin as he feels your finger against his entrance, not pushing inside but merely as a reminder of what will come later.

Heat coils low in Whiskey’s gut and he tries to push back on your fingers, wanting you. Needing you. Whatever you can give him. 

“Pisco–” He groans, his body tensing as his hips stutter forward and lose their rhythm.

Whiskey’s eyes go wide and he watches you, mouth slack as his orgasm hits hard. You feel warmth between your thighs, his come making a mess of you as he rides out his pleasure. The heat in his gut finally gives way as he calms down.

He’s boneless against you. Dishevelled and messy, Whiskey slumps forward so his chest is pressed against yours and his face is tucked against your neck.

“Mh,” He hums happily, eyes closed in blissful afterglow. “That was good, darlin’.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of Whiskey’s head, fingers sliding through his short sweaty hair on the back of his neck. Both of you stay like that, wrapped in a half-embrace, pressed together in a little bubble where the outside world is long gone.

As you’re catching your breath, Whiskey’s hand falls from your waist down to your neglected cock. He thumbs the tip, dragging his hand down in a languid pace now that he’s come. There’s no rushing in his movements.

It's here where you two forget you’re not a couple. Whiskey is your partner in everything to do with Statesman. But at the end of the day he heads to his own apartment, and you go to yours.

Sometimes you wonder if you two should just rip the bandaid off and talk about it. But that would mean talking about this. All these intimate little moments where Jack’s cocky persona is gone, his eyes half lidded as he watches the way you grind against his palm and he collects the precum leaking from your tip like it’s his prize for making you feel good.

“Jack.” You moan softly, your fingers curling at the nape of his neck as you twitch in his hand. He’s moaning too. Quiet little noises as his soft brown eyes are glazed over and his gaze is trained to the movement of his hand over your cock.

Your orgasm rolls through you, easy and relaxed as pleasure washes over you. Jack brings you in for a kiss as he strokes you through it. A soft, intimate gesture as you both hold each other.

There’s a long beat where neither of you move. Your back against the wall as your hands rest on his sides. Both of you are content to stay where you are despite the drying come on your thighs and the state of your crumpled suits.

It comes as a startle when there’s a rapt knock on the door. Two quick taps.

“Plane’s landing soon.” Ginger’s voice calls out, curt and quick. Like she’s practiced it in her head and now she can’t wait for it to be over with. You can hear the embarrassment in her voice. Apologize later, you remind yourself for the tenth time today.

Whiskey chuckles quietly against your shoulder, looking up at you with a raised brow. “Come on, sugar. We can’t keep 'em waiting or Champ’s going to chew us out again.”

Your eyeroll is to be expected, but so is your playful grin as Whiskey gives you a chaste kiss and pulls back to try and make himself look presentable again. Lord knows how difficult that will be, but a part of you– that quiet little part deep within your thoughts– honestly doesn’t mind the idea of you and Whiskey being seen like this together.