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wtfsteveharrington · 6 months ago

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c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway.

“Where’ve you been tonight?”

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.”

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay.

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield.

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch.

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time.

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you.

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care.

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right?

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all.

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it.

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond?

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier.

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well.

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner.

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed.

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret.

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up.

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him.

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out.

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you.

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that?

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again.

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused.

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily.

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen.

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building.

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened.

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like.

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you.

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm.

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him.

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips.

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place.

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place.

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him.

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you.

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit.

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.”

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.”

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later.

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night.

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out.

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly.

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement.

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how.

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.”

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.”

You liked riling him up.

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain.

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him.

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself.

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.”

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support.

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well.

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had.

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body.

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he?

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone.

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all.

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail.

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away.

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse.

But tonight was different.

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.”

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home.

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable.

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through.

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms.

You never did.

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet.

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet.

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to.

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex.

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?”

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together.

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.”

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light.

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast.

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well.

4:39 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time.

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred.

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day.

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it.

The bed feels so much

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm

Headed to bed

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest.

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!”

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound.

And there he is.

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming?

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning.

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all.

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point.

————

10:32 am

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen!

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line?

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you.

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not.

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out.

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now.

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto.

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff.

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral.

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

#♡: c.b.#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear #the bear fic #the bear smut #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy bearzatto x you

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 months ago

Text

🌑Track 3 - Big Reputations

guys, I was so proud of this chapter and then the instagram post. I always try to make them look cohesive and that the pictures were taken all together - and I think I was able to do that really well this time!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar huffed while looking at the notification from the WhatsApp. Apparently two new numbers had been added in the past hour. However, no one has said anything. He opened the app and began to type, before he pressed the delete button.

What was he supposed to say?

Liam and Theo had been added weeks ago. The atmosphere of the group chat was a bit lighter with the two new additions. Despite what he had said in an interview a couple of months ago, the group chat did have a random meme or quirky text thrown around from time to time. The two new drivers had made themselves known immediately. Yet, these two “drivers” had yet to say anything.

Oscar’s eyebrows scrunched at the two unknowns invading the safe space. His apartment was quite empty. Lily wasn’t able to join him for the last few days of break. He was technically supposed to be packing to head to Bahrain in the morning, but he couldn’t find the want or energy to actually start.

He would have called Lando, but the Briton was already busy with Quadrant things. He thought about texting Logan, but immediately shut the idea down. The American had probably gotten a new number, since Oscar’s messages weren’t even delivered. And the sight of Logan’s Instagram being deactivated also meant that he didn’t want to be found in the first place.

Oscar’s heart clenched weirdly at the thought. How had they gone from being best friends to not even talking anymore.

To Oscar, it hurt. The Aussie was trying to justify his own acts against the American. If Logan had been just a bit more extroverted, or had done a better job at driving, or had actually tried to reach out, then maybe Oscar wouldn’t have distanced himself.

But then again, he had multiple unanswered texts and missed calls from Logan that he ignored.

Another notification had him glancing back down at his phone.

This time, George had taken the initiative to welcome to two, still unknown, rookies. The “hi, welcome to the grid” text was a standard for everyone who joined. His fingers itched to also welcome them, but he stopped himself and looked closer at the two contacts.

Racer #2 and Racer #95.

Oscar sighed at the sight of the familiar number. He guessed that someone had been wanting to take that number since Logan was no longer racing.

However, he just wondered who they were and why they didn’t use their real names. The answer came from the #95.

“What?” Oscar whispered to himself as he read over the text. Lamborghini didn’t want them using their names until they showed up at testing. How ridiculous it was in Oscar’s mind. He watched as Liam tried to make conversation with #95, asking if their number was a nod to the famous Cars movie.

Liam didn’t get a reply.

The Aussie had a bad gut feeling. Maybe this was all a joke. They could try to be civil, and maybe freaking answer? Oscar did not like the vibes he was getting from the two.

He didn’t even know if they were both males.

He had heard rumors that Lamborghini was looking at a possible female candidate. But that what they were supposed to be: just rumors. He cleared the app and opened the messages icon on his iPhone. George’s contact is what he pressed and immediately opened a call.

His phone rang for a moment before the Briton picked up.

“Hello mate,” George’s voice sounded from the phone.

“Hi George. I just wanted to ask about the two new numbers.”

“Ah the new drivers for Lamborghini?”

Oscar nodded before he realized that George was not on Facetime. “Yes.”

George sighed. “From what I got, they’re legit drivers. However, I got an email directly from Michael saying that Tonino wanted his drivers’ identities to not be compromised before testing.”

“Ah, well, I just didn’t want to say anything to them before I knew they were legitimate. It’s kind of weird.”

“I understand. It’s weird to see that someone else is going to use Logan’s old number.”

Oscar could hear, what was it, a touch of sadness in George’s voice? Why would he be sad?

“I meant that it’s weird that they don’t want their names to be known. I mean, it’s just a number George, I’m not upset about that.”

The Mercedes driver made noise.

“But it’s Logan’s number.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, if Logan wanted to keep it, he should have been a better driver.”

The line went silent, and Oscar really thought that George might have hung up. A quick glance to the screen told him otherwise.

“You don’t truly believe that, do you? Logan tried to hard.”

Oscar bit out, “Well, it wasn’t enough. He should have done better, been better. Maybe then I could still stand him. Thanks for your help George.”

With that, the Aussie hung up before George could even answer. He was furious. If Logan truly wanted to stay in F1, he should have done better and that was that. No need to be butthurt over someone who wasn’t going to be in his life anymore.

On the other side of London, George was still looking at his phone screen after Oscar hung up. But, the Briton was staring at the Driver #2’s WhatsApp number. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to memorize the digits.

“What are you staring at?” Lewis sounded as he sat on George’s couch.

Oh, George kind of forgot that he was there.

The tall Briton didn’t answer as he opened his own messaging app and went directly to Logan’s new contact. The last message had been read but went unanswered. And that was almost a month ago.

But, as he stared at the info tab and the number he had down for Logan and then at the number for Driver #2, the digits matched up.

George’s eyes widened before he looked up at Lewis and smirked.

“How do you feel about the two new drivers?”

Lewis shrugged. “A bit stand-off-ish. But I understand, they were only added today.”

The brunet took a seat across from his older teammate and faux sighed.

“I’m just worried that the rookies are going to not be included. Ya know, like what happened with Logan.”

Lewis put a hand on George’s shoulder.

The man looked at him with big brown eyes. “It wasn’t your fault George. Williams had this planned for a long time. There was nothing you could do.”

George stood up immediately and threw his hands.

“But I could have been a better friend. He was struggling Lewis and no one did anything. Oscar was too busy making eye-babies with Lando to notice that his friend was falling. Alex was being an asshole. And no one else took the time to even get to know him, and now he’s gone.”

On the inside, George was congratulating himself on the performance that he was putting on. Of course he knew that driver #2 was Logan. And, he was guessing that driver #95 was possible that best friend that Logan spoke so highly of, the female ex-driver or Arrow.

Lewis stayed seated. “I know you’re upset George, but it won’t change anything in the past. All we can focus on is the future. I know for one that I will do my best to get to know the rookies so we don’t have another issue like last year. I know you’re not focusing on the chat but it looks like Max and Charles have been able to get a few answers out of them.”

George looked back down at his phone to see multiple notifications from WhatsApp. It looks like Lewis was telling the truth.

Multiple messages had been exchanged between the two rivals and the unknown numbers, well, unknown to everyone but him. George smirked.

“Looks like the rivals can get along.”

Lewis snorted. “I guess they also want to try to be a bit more welcoming. We can all learn from our mistakes last season.”

The shorter Briton looked down, slightly getting emotional. Lewis knew first-hand how detrimental Formula 1 was to childhood best friends. His own heart still hurt to see Nico on the weekends that he was there. He felt guilty that he let Brocedes happen once again with Logan and Oscar.

For a short time, George had been irate with Lewis about the switch to Ferrari. But now, seeing what happened with Logan last season, George didn’t want to miss precious moments with his friend.

George never responded to what Lewis said. He only sat down again, across from the couch, and sent a simple text to Logan.

Back in Milan, you and Logan were cackling over messing with the other drivers. You could tell that no one knew what to do with the secrecy of identities. But now that you were in a banter with Charles over ice cream flavors and Logan was having a deep conversation about air pollution with Max, the group chat seemed a little less daunting.

A ping from Logan’s phone had the two of you looking at it. Logan hadn’t expected a text from George after leaving him on read months ago. But now, the new messaged seemed to stare back at them.

All the message said was “Glad to see you back. Let me know when you get to Bahrain for testing.”

Logan winced as he forgot he had the same number for both iMessages and WhatsApp. You could definitely tell that he was spiraling. You placed a hand on his arm.

“Hey, Michael isn’t going to be upset. He knows that you and George are friends.”

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“I’m just so scared of messing up again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Logan, you didn’t mess up the first time. It wasn’t your fault.”

Your body leaned back, expecting Logan to retaliate. Except, the American only smiled at you, taking in your words.

“You’re right.”

You pushed his shoulder. “Like always.”

Instagram was pulled up on your phone. You refreshed the page to show that Lamborghini had posted something about the two of you. Your fingers quickly scrolled through the comments while you smirked at all the fan theories.

You pipped up as Logan sipped on a smoothie.

“Looks like everyone is talking about us.”

The man across from you smirked back. “But they don’t even know it’s us. I kind of like it. No one knows and can’t say anything. They just know that something big is happening. Also, George wants to meet up when we get to Bahrain.”

“You texted him back?” You never looked up from your phone, now scrolling through twitter.

“Yeah. George was actually the only one that was nice to me on a regular basis. I miss him.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m glad you had George last season. Are we going to play paddle?”

The typing sounds came from Logan’s phone as he texted George. A ping signaled that he answered.

“Yeah. Looks like Lewis, Max, and Charles might join.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like peculiar bunch?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, Lewis is going to be Charles’s teammate next year. And then anywhere Charles goes, Max isn’t too behind.”

“Makes sense. Kind of like us?”

Logan sent you a lopsided smile. “Like us, except we aren’t childhood rivals.”

“Of course. Only because we never karted together.”

A sigh left Logan’s lips. He always wished you could have karted with him, but you were off in the Italian divisions while Logan stuck in the British divisions. However, the summers the two of you spent together in Florida would always trump the times apart.

Logan got lost in thought before he spoke again.

“Do you even know how to play paddle?”

A snort left your lips. “Of course. Maybe I’ll bring the one you sent me with your face on it.”

Red flushed Logan’s face. “Please don’t.”

“What would you do about it Mr. Sargeant?”

Logan just picks up one of the decorative pillows from the couch and chucks it at your head. You do not have time to react and it ends up hitting you square in the face. Your mouth lets out a squawk before you pick the pillow back up. You rise from the plush chair and stalk toward Logan, who has put his hands up to deter you.

“Please have mercy! I didn’t mean it.”

You stopped for a bit, giving Logan some false hope and enough time for him to put his hands down before you swing the pillow, hitting the side of his head. Logan splutters before reaching out and pulling you down on top of him.

The two of you tussle for a bit before Marissa walks into the room. She chuckles as she watched the two of you roll on the floor, both tugging on the pillow.

“I don’t even want to ask.”

The sound of her voice makes the two of you freeze. Your heads slowly turn toward her, before the two of you scramble to get up. You mock dust yourself off as Logan awkwardly chuckles.

Marissa cocks an eyebrow. “If the two of you are done, it’s time for the suit and helmet promo pictures along with some circuit testing.”

You and Logan have giant grins on your face as the two of you follow her out. Logan elbows you before walking quickly to Marissa’s side. You gawk at him before shaking your head.

Logan was going to be the death of you. But you’d let him.

At the test track, you were smiling behind your helmet as you watched Logan go lap after lap. The helmet was just a standard black one with multiple different sponsor logos on it, as well as the Lambo one being the biggest. You and Logan had worn them while walking into the circuit, just in case there were any cameras or paparazzi around. The last thing you wanted was to be outed before testing.

You watched as Logan finally pulled in, the car looking fast.

Logan’s hands automatically went to take his helmet off as a force of habit, but he quickly put them down. Like you, he also didn’t want to outed.

Marissa beckoned the two of you over.

“All right, that looks good for Logan. Y/n you’ll run 15 laps and then you’re done for today. I’ve already talked to Michael and he’s fine with the two of you playing paddle. He’s rented out a building for the day, just in case, but he wants the two of you to have fun. The flight you need to catch is early at 5 am. Please be on time.”

As you and Logan were running to the gate the next morning, you should have headed Marissa’s warnings a bit more. The two of you were huffing and puffing by the time you got to the lounge, with only 15 minutes to spare. Many older, fancy-looking people gave you weird looks. You tried to smile at them, but it came out as more as a grimace.

You were able to catch a few hours of sleep while Logan went over some more data. He was always the one to go over things like that, trying to find the sweet spot of the car. Logan had done the same at Williams, but it rarely made a difference. He had just found the perfect balance of the car in Austin last year, and then they made him switch with Alex. And then he didn’t even get his car back. The rebuilt chassis was terrible.

Logan smiled to himself as he felt the familiar weight of your head on his shoulder. He barely turned and kissed the top of your head. A blush ran through his face as you leaned more into him, trying to snuggle closer.

Benny was watching with a small smile as he saw Logan place his head on top of yours. The older man had sworn that he wouldn’t be returning. But the moment Michael had reached out with an offer than he couldn’t refuse, he accepted it without hesitation. He would do anything for Logan. His wife was also very understanding and was thankful for the compensation that Lamborghini was going to provide for her family. Logan was like their eldest son, and they couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him down again.

You were still pretty tired on the way to the hotel, but were now buzzing with energy as Logan drove you to the paddle courts. He was driving one of the company’s Lamborghini Urus since your Aventador and his Huracan hadn’t been able to be shipped in time. They were done and ready to be driven when they shipped them to Jeddah.

Logan had given you the DJ privileges for this ride, but he claimed it on the way back. You were going through his phone, letting George know that the two of you would be the first to arrive. He texted back that him, Lewis, Max, and Charles would all arrive together. You thumbed up the text, after telling him to give him Logan’s last name at the counter so that they could be let in.

George was smirking in the Mercedes that Lewis was currently driving. Charles and Max were banned to the back seat (yet they claimed they wanted to be back there because they couldn’t afford to be caught riding in a Mercedes).

Once they parked, he turned his body to face the group.

“Now, I’m going to give the front a last name so that we can get in, but do not overreact, ok?”

The lanky-Briton didn’t wait for an answer before he got out of the car. He could feel the presence of the three drivers and held the door open. The lady at the front stared at them weirdly. George watched as she opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her.

“We’re a part of the group that’s playing today.”

“Name please?”

The lady typed something on her computer.

George smiled. “Sargeant.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw heads whip toward him, but he decided to ignore the shocked looks as well.

Typing resumed as he tapped the desk, a bit impatient to see his friend after a while. A grin grew on her face as she finally looked up at him.

“Court 3. Extra paddles are in the small boxes if you don’t have any. Enjoy your time.”

George took the initiative and led the group around the corner. Lewis tugged on his sleeve, but he didn’t stop, not when he heard the familiar laugh.

The door squeaked as he opened it, letting the figure in the room notice the arrival of the group of four. George’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Logan.

To him, the American had filled out a lot. He often looked too skinny during race weekends, especially after Benny left. The Briton wanted to ask him about his nutrition but had always been nervous to. He was also more tan that he had been. His hair looked fluffy and there were no more purple eyebags under his eyes. Overall, he just looked so much better than end of the 2023 season Logan. Where had the sick child gone and who was this man in front of George? The brunet thought for a moment that he had been played, until Logan started walking toward him.

“Mate, are you going to ogle or are you going to say something?” Logan asked as he stepped toward George, arm stretched out.

He clasped George’s hand and pulled him into a hug. Once the bro-moment was done, George still kept looking at Logan.

“You look good mate.”

Logan’s head leaned back as he laughed.

“Thanks.”

It was then he noticed that the other three drivers had yet to move from the door. Their eyes were still wide and looking at the duo. Logan smirked as he saw you sneak up behind them.

“Hi guys!” you semi-yelled, making them jump. Your giggle sounded in the big court. That was the icebreaker that they needed as they finally walked into the room. You immediately stood next to Logan as he introduced you.

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Logan. “I know their names. We had good conversations about how chocolate is the best ice cream flavor. Isn’t that right Charles?”

Charles had a pout on his lips. “I said no such thing. I believe we agreed that vanilla was the best non?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

Max raised his hand. “You are both wrong. The best flavor is clearly mint chocolate chip.”

You all just deadpanned at him.

“It’s true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Logan, you don’t have an opinion when your favorite is literally the Superman flavor.”

“Shut up Y/n.”

“Are we going to play paddle now?”

“Yes Lewis, we’ll play paddle.”

It was quiet for a moment until you yelled, “I call Charles as a teammate.”

Logan and Max whipped toward you.

“That’s just unfair.”

“I’m leading, he pushed me, I pushed him back, and after, he pushed me off the track. It’s just unfair.”

Logan followed your lead. “Charles, what happened with Max?”

“Nothing just an inchident on the race.”

“That’s it. Lewis is my teammate.”

“Back off Leclerc. You have him for next year, he’s mine.”

“What if I wanted Lewis?”

“Max, you win every race. You can lose at paddle.”

“Ok, but I still get Charles right?”

georgerussell63 has posted

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, venus2, and phoenix95

georgerussell63 going into the season strong 💪 (max lost)

liked by phoenix&venus, y/n.nation, venus2, and 3,204,184 others

russellgeorge oh we are so back (I'm delusional)

mercganggang WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN

lambof1 hold on - GEORGE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE??

lamborghini_duo we've been known 🙃

phoenix95 glad to see verstappen on his knees - I'm taking his emotional support rival tho

maxverstappen1 uh, exCUSE me 🤨 get your own emotional support rival

venus2 do I mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc you don't like vanilla so I refuse

maxverstappen1 Charlie I like vanilla

lewishamilton this is so pitiful to watch 🤦🏾

russell63 George really said "I'm getting the band back together"

sargeantgirlie ok - I think I have everything figured out

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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theologyy · 8 days ago

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Review: “My Investing Journey and Learning” by Carmen Mundt

Qualifications: I’m a journalist reporting on business, economics, and defense who’s been in the industry for 7 years — the last 3 have been at, debatably, the #1 business publication in the world.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Thoughts: I cannot believe I spent 39 euros on this.

This 39 page ebook provides incredibly basic information that can all be found in this article.

First: while the ebook is about 40 pages, it probably has about 10 pages of actual information in it, interspersed with inspirational quotes from Sheryl Sandberg and Warren Buffet, with some pictures of Carmen in Monaco.

There’s about 1 page of “introduction” from Carmen that talks about her upbringing and journey to university in London. I won’t comment too much on her personal story, but an important thing to note is that she says she came from a “traditional Spanish household” where her father was the breadwinner and her mother had no access to family finances. After the 2008 crash, her family couldn’t afford to send her to college. She moved to London, applied for a student loan, and began studying finance at a university while working part time.

Carmen very, very briefly mentioned her regrets as to her mother’s inability to access higher education, work, and family financial planning; she says she’d never want to be in that position. While literally only one sentence, I think it makes it clear who the audience for this ebook is: someone who has absolutely, positively, no idea about money.

(She also very, very briefly mentions “big changes in her personal life” that made a full-time job in finance “not sustainable,” leading to her move to Monaco. This is her only reference to George.)

The rest of the book very simply explains how to make a budget, set financial goals, invest in the stock market, and mitigate risk. The information was kinda factually correct, and was written in a coherent manner. I think that’s the highest praise I can give it.

Here’s the thing: like other reviewers have called out, I am pretty certain that Carmen didn’t write anything besides the introduction. Whole sections (and indeed the entire format of the ebook) were clearly ripped from the Female Invest introductory courses. (I spent 3 hours clicking through each course so I could find direct wording comparisons to make this claim. I really wouldn’t recommend it.) I do think she edited these sections, and she interjected a few personal sentences; but I believe that’s where her involvement ended.

From an expert perspective, a lot of the information is so simplistic as to be almost incorrect. This isn’t a “first day of Econ 101” ebook — this is a “freshman year of high school home ec class” ebook. (Did anyone else’s home ec classes teach budgeting, or just me?)

Here’s an example. In a section on stocks, Carmen/Female Invest writes: “Investing in stocks allows you to support companies and causes you care about while still making a profit.”

On a basic level, this is correct. Purchasing a stock technically means you’re buying a little bit of a company, and I guess therefore supporting it. But unless a company is IPOing, you’re buying those stocks from another investor — which means your purchase has no effect on the company. So it’s a little disingenuous to claim you’re somehow helping the company. The ebook is rife with this kind of thing.

Carmen pushed in her advertising posts that the Female Invest courses were a key supplement to her book. So obviously, I had to do those too. And holy shit, they were so much worse than the ebook. Some parts were blatantly incorrect on basic information (they claim markets are open 24/7, when most are only open 9am-4:30pm on weekdays) and have some of the most patronizing metaphors I have ever read. (One of the most egregious was comparing your investment portfolio to a pizza because “stocks, bonds, and ETFs” make up different “sizes of slices to make a whole pie”. This isn’t even an accurate equivalent — maybe a calzone, pasta, and pizza make up a whole meal? I don’t even know.)

I would not recommend buying this ebook unless you, too, were barred from even thinking about a stock by your traditional father. Even then, consider free sources.

A Disclaimer on disclosures: So, after @ohblimeygeorge sent me a reddit post also reviewing Carmen’s book that mentioned ad disclosures, I decided to dive into the regulations. In the U.S., influential advertising is regulated by the FTC — in the EU, it’s regulated by the EU Commission, which I believe Carmen would qualify under since she is a Spanish citizen who lives in Monaco. First, I looked at this legal brief on content monetization business models, and concluded that that the ebook likely falls under “affiliate marketing” as Carmen likely receives a percentage of each ebook sold through her link.

(An additional disclaimer: obviously, I don’t know the details of the deal Carmen has with Female Invest, but I’d think it unlikely that she isn’t getting paid for their collaboration. She mentioned in an Instagram story under her Female Invest highlight that she “tried purchasing equity but they were already too big for what I could afford” but “did buy a bit of their crowdfunding.” Since she doesn’t have equity, i.e. doesn’t own a piece of the company, it’d be weird if she was doing this for free.)

Back on topic. I next looked at this legal brief on advertising disclosures. It states that affiliate marketing must be disclosed: “you need to make sure your audiences understand that it’s advertising.” Disclosures can include hashtags and “mentioning” advertising in the caption. Carmen has not disclosed advertising in any of her Female Invest posts, and appears to be violating this regulation. (Interestingly, her only posts that follow disclosure requirements are her Tommy posts.)

It’s apparently not uncommon. An EU Commission study showed 80% of influencers in the EU do not properly disclose ads.

So, there’s that too.

#I spent waaaaaay too long doing female invest courses for this #I was just horrified and couldn’t stop!!#my verdict #unfortunately #is that this IS the equivalent of a weight loss ebook peddled by an ig baddie #disappointing but I suppose unsurprising #happy to answer more questions if u message me!#george russell #carmen montero mundt #carmen mundt

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hyuckiefluff · 1 year ago

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drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up.

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you.

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath. But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops.

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him.

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you.

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him.

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived.

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

part 2

#nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream fic #nct dream scenario #nct imagines #nct smut #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #nct moodboard #mark lee x you #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #mark lee imagines #mark lee fic

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cerebralisis · 7 months ago

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I decided to make my analysis of So High School into a separate post, because I can’t help but think of this song every time I see photos of Taylor at the games. And sure, it sounds like a love song on the surface until you remember that Taylor was bullied in high school and start to dig a little deeper. Feeling "so high school" is not something a 34 year old woman wants to feel.

Let’s look at the lyrics.

"I'm sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights" = To me this sounds like drowning, embarrassment, and diving in with the sharks

"Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me" = You mean her first Chiefs appearance when they 'slid off in the getaway car' at the end? Nothing good starts in a getaway car, babes.

"I'll drink what you think and I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night" = I mean...

“I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night" = What do we know about this movie? We know that it is renowned for its high school immaturity and misogyny. It’s about a bunch of horny boneheaded men who treat women like sex objects instead of people. Sounds a lot like football culture to me.

"Your friends are around so be quiet. I'm trying to stifle my sighs." = I'm in the box with your friends and family. I need to hold it together so I don't offend them, but I legit hate this.

"Cause I feel so high school" = SHE HATES THIS.

"Bittersweet 16 suddenly" = I don't think she was a fan of high school, you guys.

"Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game but really, I'm betting on all 3." = A clear reference to that kiss/marry/kill interview with Travis, while also saying "we're gonna get together, put on a show for everyone, and I'm going to slowly die inside until we're done."

"Get my car door, isn't that sweet. Now pull me to the backseat" = All I hear with this is Movie Director Taylor giving instructions to her leading man so they can get a good reaction from the audience.

"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle." = You're a jock. I'm a nerd. We are not compatible.

"Touch me while your bros play grand theft auto." = The official song lyrics on Spotify put grand theft auto in lowercase the first time and capitalized the second time. The capitalized GTA could refer to Travis's friends playing the video game, sure. But also - you know who was arrested in August 2023 for grand theft auto? Bashaud Breeland, a cornerback for the Kansas City Chiefs who played with Travis in the 2020 Super Bowl.

"It's true, swear, Scout's Honor" = Look it up, I dare you.

And my absolute favorite:

"On the brink of a wrinkle in time" = This is TTPD, folks. Of course there's going to be a literary reference. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. The main character is a girl named Meg who is incredibly bright but struggles in school because she doesn't fit in with the other kids. After meeting a trio of badass witchy women, Meg travels to far-off worlds (a sort of deep portal time travel, you might say) where she joins the battle of light vs. darkness. What do we know about Taylor’s usage of light and darkness throughout her discography? It's giving… Reputation vs. Daylight? Shrouded in secrecy vs. out in the open? Based on everything else that Taylor has been hinting at through TTPD (not to mention Evermore and Midnights), it sounds like she is on the verge of diving into a much larger battle. And if I had to guess, I would bet that this battle will start during the Reputation re-release. Around Halloween. 🎃 When exile ends. Almost exactly 2 years after the Bejeweled music video was released. Maybe the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now cause she's dead?

I'm just speculating, but I will add that the 3rd book in the Time series is called A Swiftly Tilting Planet. There is a poem referenced through the book that goes like this:

With Ananda in this fateful hour, I place all Heaven with its power, And the sun with its brightness, And the snow with its whiteness, And the fire with all the strength it hath, And the lightning with its rapid wrath, And the winds with their swiftness along its path, And the sea with its deepness, And the rocks with their steepness, And the Earth with its starkness, All these I place with God's almighty help and grace between myself and the powers of darkness.

The word ‘Ananda’ mentioned above is the name of a character in the book, which is significant to the story because it’s a Sanskrit word that describes the eternal bliss that accompanies the ending of the rebirth cycle. If this series is what Taylor is referencing then it’s sounding more and more like she’s going to kill off Taylor TM and be done with the games, done with the reinvention. The plot summary of A Swiftly Tilting Planet says that it’s a book about "going back in time and changing might-have-beens." What decisions would she have made differently if she could do it all over again?

I don't know, friends. Take from this what you will. All I know is, this woman and all her brilliant duality is going to send me to a padded room. ✌🏻

#friends of dorothea #gaylor #lgbetty #ttpd #the anthology #so high school #🎃#🎃 anon

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factual-fantasy · 5 months ago

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But what happened to Ingo that he got al bloody??? Was he attacked by something??? By someone??? And why was Elesa alone on the last panel, where Emmet go? To sleep maybe? To look for his brother yet again somewhere? Does Ingo has memory loss or he does not? If he does, does he remember everything when he gets back? And forget about the adventure he just had? How much time was he missing? He is still all bloody and his leg is still not looking great so I'd say not very much?? His leg is looking awfull I love it.

(Post in question)

XDD I'll take this ask as an opportunity to go into much more detail on the story and answer all your questions!

So for starters, in my AU The Wilds isn't some far off island as its seems to be in the game. My version of The Wilds is 100s upon 100s of acers of land somewhere on the far far range.

Also, Elesa has her own ranch separate from the twins. She has a big lab on her ranch with welding equipment and tools and what not.

ANYWAYS! So Ingo and Emmet had been out exploring when they happened upon The Wilds. Excited to see this uncharted land, they charged right in. They explored together to start, but at some point they split up. Neither of them really even remember why they split.. they both regret separating looking back..

Ingo found a big open field and began walking across it. considering there was literally nothing ahead of him he felt confident to take out his Rotom and type away on it while walking.

Suddenly he fell into a big gaping hole in the middle of the field. Looking at his Rotom he didn't see it coming..

He tumbled down several feet and crashed into the cave floor. The result was a mild concussion, blood pouring from his forehead and a nasty sprained ankle..

He laid there unconscious for a few minutes before waking up dazed and confused. Looking ahead of him he saw a dim light. So he just.. instinctively crawled towards it.

It turns out that dim light was an old teleporter that led him miles and miles into The Wilds. The teleporter deactivated behind him.

About an hour passed when Emmet started look for Ingo. When he couldn't find him right away he tracked him on his Rotom. Following the signal he found a hole in the ground leading to the enormous cave..

Carefully making his way down the hole he found Ingo's abandoned Rotom, a trail of blood leading to an old broken teleporter.. but no Ingo.

It was pretty clear what had happened. Ingo had gone through the teleporter. But it was deactivated so he couldn't follow him.

He called Elesa in a panic, and Elesa told him to bring the teleporter to her ranch. There she had welding supplies and tools to hopefully fix the old teleporter and bring Ingo home. Or maybe go through it themselves and find him..

While Elesa worked on the teleporter, Emmet still had a ranch to maintain and slimes to feed. At the moment there wasn't much else he could do to help in finding Ingo anyways.. So he went back to his ranch and maintaining it.

Now its at this point I should talk about Celebi.

I had this idea that Celebi is this mischievous slime that lives in The Moss Blanket. Ingo and Emmet have become obsessed with trying to capture this slime so that they can study it. Though this slime always escapes somehow. After months of failing to capture it, this cat and mouse routine has turned into a game for both parties.

Celebi will appear and temp the brothers into chasing after her. The dinguses always give in and make chase, only to tire themselves out and end up empty handed.

This routine has become so casual that there have been somedays where they go to The Moss Blanket and Celebi appears. The boys will shake their heads. "Sorry, no games today. We actually have chores to do.." Celebi will pout but then confidently approach them and help them with their chores and allow them to pet her. The next time they visit it'll be back to trying to catch her and her always slipping away. XD

So with that context, it had been about 3 days or so since Ingos disappearance. Emmet was back at his ranch waiting for any good news from Elesa.. At some point he had to stop by The Moss Blanket for his usual chores and to empty him and Ingos extractors.

Emmet had tried to stay calm through all this. He tried to tell himself that Ingo would be fine. he was tough, capable. Surly he would be fine.. though being in The Moss Blanket.. perhaps he saw something that reminded him of Ingo. And just thinking about how his brother was bleeding, and all alone out there..

It was just too much. He was so worried about Ingo and he missed him so much.. Emmet fell to his knees and started crying.

Celebi heard the crying and came to investigate. Only to find.. just one of the brothers.?

Celebi tried to comfort Emmet by nuzzling up against his arm. It helped some and he was able to compose himself.

"Sorry,, no games today.. Ingo's not here... maybe some other day.."

Celebi wouldn't leave his side though. Emmet couldn't help it and kind'a vented the situation to Celebi, even though he thought she couldn't understand him.

He talked about this new land they discovered. He talked about how he turned away for only a minute.. and then Ingo was gone.. But most importantly, he talked about the pink trees..

After Emmet left the Moss Blanket, Celebi turned around and went straight to The Wilds in search of Ingo.

Around 2 weeks give or take have gone by when Celebi finally finds Ingo. And by this time Elesa had fully repaired the teleporter and reactivated it.. but the teleporter didn't connect with another. Ingo did not appear..

Celebi began to try to lead Ingo home. It was tough considering how slow Ingo moved and all the dangers The Wilds presented.. but they managed.

A few days go by and its at this point that Emmet and Elesa are completely defeated. They don't even know where to begin looking for Ingo. They have no way of knowing where that teleporter took Ingo. Although Elesa tried to hack into it and find its last coordinates..

Emmet was back at his ranch, and to be honest.. he was falling apart. Each day that went by he spiraled more and more. There was talk about packing up a bunch of gear and supplies and venturing into The Wilds looking for Ingo.. though there were a lot of problems that presented..

Meanwhile Celebi, Ingo and Lady Sneasler saw a glint coming from a nearby cave..

It was another teleporter! And although it was currently shut off, it looked to be functioning! Ingo said a heartfelt goodbye to Celebi and Lady Sneasler. he thanked them for all their help and care. He activated the teleporter, and stepped through..

All in all Ingo was gone for about 3 weeks or so. He didn't suffer any memory loss or anything thankfully. His concussion and sprained ankle were generally mild and healed on their own over those 3 weeks. Although his leg was still pretty sore since he was constantly walking on it..

I have some ideas in mind for what happens after Ingo returns and what the reunion with Emmet is like. I plan to draw it sometime soon so stay tuned! :}}}

Also thank you for your interest in this Au and for your ask! It gave me a great excuse to ramble about the story and go into more detail! XDD

#my response #pokemon legends arceus #slime rancher #ingo and emmet #submas #elesa pokemon #nimbasa trio #tw blood #tw injury

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ssajemilyprentiss · 6 months ago

Text

In the air

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Warnings: Smut, angsty-ish, reader is a bit cold/lacks emotion, Emily is a bit out of character lol (just this once), mentions of death (you know the regular cm stuff), sexual tension (or more like an attempt at it lol), curse words, eating out, vaginal fingering, nipple/breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation, praise. Let me know if i forgot something - Also MINORS DNI

Summary: When you get brought in for questioning at the FBI and they have Emily interrogate you - the tension between you is instant.

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Um hello I guess, I’m back lol. It has been a hot minute since I both wrote and posted on here, and tbh I am a lil scared doing this again. Even tho I love posting and writing I have been so uninspired and unmotivated for so so long for some reason. But I will try to post more, can’t make any promises tho lol.

The beginning of this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long and I wanted to do something with it so here I am doing it lmao

Also a reminder if it has been forgotten, english is not my first language - and I would deeply appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this, thanks besties <3

This was requested by the lovely Jas @rafetopia (you requested this such a long time ago so you have probably forgotten it, and i can’t find your ask either, sorry about that lmao) who wrote the following: “so what if you wrote a blurb or one shot with emily (or jj tbh i don’t really care i love them both) and there are some murders and the reader is the suspect and there’s a hot interrogation session (i’m a sucker for it) but the ending is up to you like if she’s innocent or not (only if you want to lol) i didn’t want to make it too specific so you still have freedom 😅”

I decided to go with Emily for this one, hope that’s fine Jas (also hope it's fine i added the smut lmao) thank you for this request and i hope this turns out the way you wanted to <3

☽ My masterlist here

☽ Want to request something from me? Take a look here

You let out a deep sigh, crossing your legs for what felt like the hundredth time. The dark, pale interrogation room at the FBI headquarters was freezing cold and you feel yourself getting goosebumps from the chilly atmosphere. How long had you been sitting here? An hour? Two? Who knew? No one had told you anything yet, and none of the agents who showed up and arrested you had come in. Just as you’re about to uncross your legs the door opens and a grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent steps inside the room, her commanding presence immediately taking over the room. She takes a seat across from you, not saying anything. She stares deadpanned at you but all you can think about her eyes - dark brown, almost black, and you feel how you could get lost staring into them. The next thing you see is her nose, straight and pointy - one of her defining features for sure. Your eyes move on to her lips, they are full with a hint of red - red is definitely her color. You keep staring at her lips, biting your own lower lip as you do. You sit in silence for you don’t know how long, until she breaks the silence by clearing her throat. Your eyes shoot up from her lips into her eyes once again, and you see a sly smile forming on her mouth before she starts talking:

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I’m a profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit” she takes a breath before continuing “do you know why you’re here Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Actually I don’t” you reply, your lips forming a small smirk “but please agent, do enlighten me”

“You are here on suspicion of murder”

“Murder?” you retort, raising an eyebrow

“Correct, murder” she replies, tossing pictures on the table - but you keep staring into her eyes.

“Look at the pictures” she demands

You do, and see yourself in all of them - together with different women. You look up at the agent again with a blank expression.

“Do you recognize the women in the pictures?” she asks

“Well yes I do” you reply

You point to one of them “That’s me right there”

“‘I mean the other women” she retorts annoyed

“Oh, silly me” you chuckle “well yes I recognize them too”

“Go on” she says

“Well, as you can see I’ve met them all”

“Doing what?”

“Do you really wanna know that, Agent Prentiss?”

“Go on” she encourages you “What about her?” she asks, holding up one of the photos

You look at the photo for a while, it’s of you and one of the girls you had met - what was her name? Mia? Sophia?

“She was a pleasure”

“How come all the women you have met turned up dead just a few days after meeting you?” she asks, her tone accusatory

“Don’t know” you reply, shrugging your shoulders

“This isn’t a game Y/N, people are dead” she says, venom lacing her tone

“Don’t you think I know that?” you scoff “well I didn’t kill them”

“Where were you on these dates and times?” she asks, sliding a piece of paper with them written down towards you

“Well I can tell you that on all these dates I was very busy”

“With what?” she asks

You bite your lip again before answering “Well I was with my very good friend Izzie”

She sighs “And you were doing?”

You lean back in your chair, keeping your eyes fixed on hers as you do “You know the usual - shopping, drinking coffee, eating”

“Eating what?” she asks

You chuckle lightly “We were eating a lot of things, if you know what I mean” you say as you raise an eyebrow at her. You see how she takes a second, thinking about what you’re saying, but if your answer startles her - she doesn’t give it away.

“To be fair Y/N” Emily sighs “I’m getting kinda tired of this”

“Likewise” you reply, crossing your arms

Emily leans across the table, staring into your eyes. Her hands firmly gripping the table, and you imagine them gripping your body instead. You are woken from your fantasy by her hot breath right next to your ear. You feel the hairs on your arms raising and how wetness starts pooling between your legs.

“So why won’t you just tell me the truth, like a good girl” she whispers, nipping lightly at your ear

You take a sharp breath, exhaling shakily and not daring to move a muscle.

“Tell me Y/N” she whispers again “do you want to be my good girl?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She chuckles lightly and tuts

“None of that now, I want to hear you say it” she whispers

You whimper lightly and swallow, just as you’re about to open your mouth the door opens and you and Emily get away from each other, she sits down in her chair composing herself. You sit back in your chair, feeling out of breath. You lock eyes with a tall grumpy agent who stares deadpanned at you.

“You’re free to go Ms. Y/L/N” he says

“What?” you ask, shocked

“You’re free to go” he repeats “your alibi checks out”

You get up from the chair and as you’re about to leave the room you stop right by Emily’s ear and whisper:

“That was fun, we should do it again sometime”

You don’t give her time to reply, swiftly exiting the room. On the way out you feel all the other agents staring at you as you walk past them, but all you can do is smirk - thinking back at the moment you just had with Emily - and how you need to get rid of the wetness between your legs the first thing you do when you get home.

The sun was shining outside the BAU, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, picking it up you see your uber is on its way. You close your eyes and exhale once more, but before you know it someone is behind you and pushes you against the wall of the building, their hand on your throat. You feel your air supply being cut off and open your eyes in panic, and there in front of you is the grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent once more. She releases the pressure against your throat a little, but keeps her hand steady. You gasp for air as she leans towards you.

“Listen here you little slut” she says “I don’t think you’re as innocent as you make it look, but to be honest right now I don’t give a fuck”

You don’t answer, focusing on your breathing

“But what I’m more interested in right now is to keep our little party going” she says, backing away “If you want to?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, but can tell from the look on her face that she is serious. You chuckle, looking down at your feet with a sly smile - you look up again, meeting her brown eyes and reply:

“I’d never thought you’d ask”

She pulls you inside her apartment, dragging you towards her bedroom. She pushes you against the wall once again and presses her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth as your hands caress her body, reaching her breasts.

“Let me take your shirt off” you pant into her mouth

She pulls away and you pull her shirt over her head, and then do the same with yours. You take off her bra while she does the same with yours. She trails her kisses along your neck, and you throw your head back, giving her full access. She stops by your pulse point, sucking hard on it. You close your eyes and moan as she does, your hands finding her breasts. You start rubbing one of her nipples between your fingers, causing her to moan against your neck. She keeps trailing kisses further down on your body and reaches your breasts. She takes one of your nipples in her mouth, circling her tongue against it.

“Holy fuck” you breathe out “keep doing that”

She chuckles lightly against your nipple before pinching it lightly with her teeth, making you yelp.

“Lay down on the bed” she says

You obey, laying down on your back

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she asks, smirking

You lick your lips and nod, staring up at her.

She lowers herself, trailing kisses along your stomach down towards your pussy. You feel your clit pulsing and wetness dripping between your legs.

“Spread those legs for me” she says, and you obey instantly “let me see that pretty pussy of yours”

She starts kissing your inner thighs slowly, just brushing over your clit lightly when she switches from one leg to the other.

“Please” you pant, putting your hands in her hair directing her towards your clit “Please stop teasing and fuck me”

“As you wish princess” she says and start sucking forcefully on your clit, making you moan hard of the instant pleasure she gives you

“Such a good girl” she says against your clit, and you thrust your hips forward, looking for more. She chuckles softly and starts licking up and down your slit, and she easily slips two fingers into you - thrusting them slowly.

“Harder please” you pant “I’m gonna cum”

She picks up her pace, her thrusts becoming more determined, and your eyes starts fluttering from the overwhelming pleasure that is approaching you

“Cum for me” she husks and circle your clit once more, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure

“Fuck” you breathe out as she starts lapping up your juices

She kiss you and you taste yourself on her tongue, and then you flip her over - with her underneath you this time

“My turn” you coo and lick your lips, pinning her wrists above her head as you caress one of her nipples with your tongue

"So perfect" you murmur "Perfect tits. Perfect ass. Perfect everything"

You work your way down her body, kissing her

“Please” she breathes heavily “I need you”

“Where do you need me?” you ask, kneading her breasts once more

“Inside” she whimpers “your fingers inside”

You lick a line along her slit, tasting her wetness

“My my” you chuckle “do I make you this wet?”

“Yes” she groans “please just fuck me”

You slide two fingers inside of her, thrusting them slowly as you lower yourself towards her clit and take it in your mouth. She moans deeply and arches her back, and you start picking up your pace.

“Please” she breathes “need more”

You add another finger smoothly, and let her adjust a little before you start thrusting again, and you curl your fingers at her g-spot and start circling your tongue on her clit again - feeling her walls clenching against your fingers

“Yes” she cries out “just like that, I’m cumming”

You pick up the pace, flicking her clit harder and thrust your finger faster.

You feel her orgasm taking over, and she cries out from pleasure. You keep thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm. When she has calmed down you slip out your fingers and take them in your mouth, cleaning her juices from them - and you moan once again from her taste.

The two of you crash down on the bed next to each other, panting heavily.

“That was good” she whispers

“So fucking good” you reply and she chuckles at you, turning her head towards you

You stare into Emily’s dark brown eyes once again, the first thing you had noticed about her when she walked into that interrogation room what felt like an eternity ago. Whatever lies behind those beautiful brown eyes is one mystery you would spend your entire life solving.

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Taglist: @rafetopia / @ssa-sapphic / @sweetmidnights / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover / @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad / @rookie-prentiss (this taglist is sooo old, so i'm sorry in advance if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and i'll delete you <3)

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader smut

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glossdebut · 2 months ago

Text

Take a Bite Ch. 5

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: SMUT, sexting, i guess a little bit of exhibitionism? not really but if we're splitting hairs, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, COMPLICATED FEELINGS! MEN NAMED KEVIN! YIJEONG?????

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.4k (jesus christ)

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: TAKE A BITE 5 IS HERE!!!!!!!!! this chapter was ALMOST written in a planet fitness, but it wasn't. this chapter is also almost ENTIRELY smut, but the smut is important to the plot so leave me alone! i'm sorry to inform those of you that wanted more of yoongi's brain that this chapter is entirely reader pov, but there's a reason for that and i promise yoongi will be back before this story is complete <3

Chapter 5: I Think I Need Your Help

Next time can’t come soon enough.

Since Friday night, you’ve been alternating between being super proud of yourself for being direct and asking for what you want, and being equally repulsed by yourself for the way getting what you want has made you act.

You’ve seen Yoongi once since the night in his studio, when he was coming home after pulling an all-nighter and you were on your way out to work, like two goddamn ships passing in the night.

You were in that barely functional state post-waking up where you were shocked you were even able to get your shoes on the correct feet before walking out the door, and the mere sight of him in a short-sleeved white t-shirt had you pausing where you stood and taking a looooong look. You’re that desperate.

And he knows it, too. Exhausted as he looked, your blatant staring didn’t go unnoticed. Mercifully, though, Yoongi didn’t say anything. Just shook his head at you knowingly, smirking to himself as he pushed his front door open and stepped inside, presumably to go crash for a few hours.

You thought, foolishly, that a byproduct of your friends-with-benefits arrangement would be an ability to relax, loosen up a little bit so you’re able to be more productive during office hours. Don’t people say that about sex? That it clears the head? Well, those people have clearly never had Min Yoongi’s head between their legs.

You are decidedly not clear headed. You are wired, wanting, finding yourself zoning out in the middle of newsroom meetings thinking about Yoongi’s hands spreading your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit, the way he groaned into your pussy. It’s fucking distracting.

You’ve never been like this before with anyone you’ve slept with. Sex with your ex had been good, even great sometimes, but you never really thought about it until it was happening. With Yoongi, you can’t seem to think about anything else.

Meanwhile, Yoongi has been busy, on a completely different sleep schedule from you all week. He’d given you fair warning before you left his studio Friday night, wobbly-legged and fucked out. He’s working on a very important track for an upcoming artist’s debut album, he’d told you. It’s due at the end of the day Friday, and he probably won’t have time for any… extracurriculars until it’s done.

No big deal, you’d said! Dumb bitch.

It doesn’t help in the slightest that, as you’d hoped, nothing has really changed between you and Yoongi, aside from occasional suggestive texts (mostly initiated by your horny ass!!!!!!) exchanged throughout the day, sprinkled within normal conversation. No, Yoongi has continued to be himself: sweet, considerate, kind of nerdy. Sending you links to articles he finds interesting, or funny videos, or songs that he’s had on repeat. It is driving you insane.

On Thursday afternoon, you snap.

You open your phone on your lunch break to find that Yoongi has sent you not one, not two, but three devastatingly cute cat videos, and has provided his own commentary on them.

So, obviously, you text back with what you think is the only appropriate response to that kind of behavior.

[12:14] You: i am begging you to put your cock inside me before i lose my mind

It is by far the most direct you’ve been since Friday night, far exceeding the coy flirtation you usually go for. You place your phone face-down on your desk with a shaky hand, staring down at your sad little salad. Lunch seems impossible now, what with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and all.

Your phone buzzes not even a minute later, twice. Which stands to reason. You wanted Yoongi’s attention, and now you’ve got it. You take a deep breath through your nose and turn your phone back over.

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re begging, huh?

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re at work, baby. Can’t focus? Need it that bad?

Um. Yes, yes you do. And the way that you can practically hear his voice right now, in your ear, teasing. Fuck. Not helping.

You pick up your phone, hiding yourself behind the monitor at your desk so nobody in the office can see how flushed you’ve become all of a sudden. You’re on your lunch, and they should mind their damn business.

[12:16] You: yes

[12:17] Yoongi: You know I can’t help you until I’m done with my track.

That’s pretty much the response you expected, but you can’t help feeling frustrated about it anyway. He can’t take a break for an hour? You’d even settle for thirty minutes!

[12:18] You: i think you can and you’re just making me wait to be an asshole

[12:18] You: which is really dumb because i can just come to your studio tonight when i get off of work and you can take a break

[12:19] You: let me ride you in your chair

[12:19] You: fuck. you don’t even have to stop working yoongi

You’re acting desperate, you know that. You know how you sound. But you are desperate, can’t help it. Yoongi opened the floodgates to over three years of pent-up sexual frustration with his stupid tongue, and now it’s his fucking responsibility to deal with it.

You watch as the bubble pops up to indicate that he’s typing, and then disappears, then reappears again. Ha. Maybe you actually got him.

[12:22] Yoongi: If you think calling me names is gonna get you what you want, you’ve got another thing coming.

[12:22] Yoongi: You can come to the studio tonight if you really want to. But I can guarantee that you’re not getting my cock.

[12:23] Yoongi: Except maybe in that fucking mouth to give it something better to do than complain.

Holy shit maybe not!

[12:23] You: oh my god

You had a feeling, of course, that Yoongi liked being in control, that he liked to guide. He had coaxed your desires out of you so sweetly Friday night, letting you tell him what you wanted, but how he did it was his choice. But this is more than guiding. He’s telling you what’s going to happen if you come over. You shift in your chair, your thighs clenching.

[12:24] Yoongi: Hey. Tell me if this is okay, Y/N.

You can practically hear the words in his voice, soft, like when he asked you to stay when Seokjin came over to cook. The stark difference between this and the texts immediately before are almost enough to make your head spin. He’s giving you an out if you’re not into this. But you are into it.

[12:24] You: yeah

[12:24] You: yes. it’s okay

[12:25] Yoongi: I need you to tell me if I say or do something you don’t like, okay? No matter what.

[12:25] You: i will

[12:25] Yoongi: Good girl.

God. Being this turned on at work feels like a crime.

[12:26] Yoongi: I’m not trying to be mean, baby. I already told you, I’m dying to fuck you. I wasn’t just saying that.

[12:27] Yoongi: But when I fuck you, I want to be able to take my time.

[12:27] Yoongi: Wanna have you in my bed and not in my studio, first of all. All spread out for me so I can see all of you.

[12:28] Yoongi: Wanna taste you again. I can’t stop thinking about how good you taste, fuck. I didn’t take it slow enough last time, didn’t get to savor it, but I’m gonna fix that. Gonna make you come with my tongue again before you even get my cock, get you nice and wet for me.

[12:29] Yoongi: Not that it takes much. Bet you’re wet right now, aren’t you? Just from this?

Oh, he’s so mean. Your thighs clench again and you chew on your bottom lip as you type, hyperaware of the way the thin fabric of your panties clings to your sex. It feels so dirty, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll have to work like this. You’ll have to talk to your colleagues like this, pretend like nothing’s amiss. You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t turn you on even more.

[12:29] You: yeah. god, yoongi. i am

[12:30] Yoongi: Yeah. I know, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you when I can. Gonna make you feel so good. You sounded so sweet when you came for me last time. Can’t wait to hear what kind of pretty noises you’ll make when I get to have you properly.

[12:31] Yoongi: Fuck, Y/N. If you think I don’t wish I was with you right this second you’re insane. Been dreaming about your pussy. But I wanna do this the right way.

You believe him. Even through your phone, you can feel it—that raw honesty that Yoongi always gives you. He’s been agonizing over this just as much as you have. It makes you feel a little bad, honestly, that you so wantonly distracted him like this, when he’s been working so hard this week. Maybe part of you wanted to get back at him for denying you what you wanted on Friday, but now, you realize that you’re glad he did. You want all of that, too. Everything he said, every word of it. Just because this is casual doesn’t mean you have to rush.

Maybe it’s time for you to give him a little honesty of your own.

[12:32] You: i want that too

[12:32] You: shit i have to go back to work soon but i promise i’m not trying to rush this i just…

[12:32] You: really, really want you

[12:33] Yoongi: I want you too.

[12:33] Yoongi: Soon, okay? Really really soon if I can help it.

You look up from your phone when the chime of an Outlook notification snaps you out of your bubble, directing your attention to an email from your boss. With a longsuffering sigh, you click it open. He wants to talk to you as soon as you’re available, and your salad isn’t going to eat itself, so you resign yourself to letting Yoongi get back to work.

[12:35] You: soon

[12:35] You: go back to work. that grammy isn’t gonna win itself

[12:36] Yoongi: Lmfao. Go back to work, she says, as if she didn’t just give me the most persistent boner of my life unprovoked.

[12:36] You: motivation!

[12:36] Yoongi: Motivation for me to do more inappropriate shit in my place of business, maybe. But it’s a lot sadder when I’m by myself.

[12:37] You: wowwwww pics or it didn’t happen

[12:37] Yoongi: YOU go back to work, pervert.

You do. Begrudgingly.

You quickly type an email to your boss, just a cursory, ‘There are fifteen minutes left in my lunch, and then I’ll be there. Thanks Kevin!’ Afterwards, you scarf down your lunch. And you finally watch those cat videos Yoongi sent you, which effectively tamps down your horny high enough for you not to feel icky about meeting with your boss.

★ ★ ★

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, you’re knocking on Kevin’s door.

You like your boss well enough. As much as one can like their boss, maybe, give or take a bad day. Kevin is nice, but his name is stupid, and he certainly doesn’t live up to your expectations of what a music journalism editor would be like when you first applied to Look Here Magazine.

Foolishly, you expected someone straight out of Almost Famous: young, wears band t-shirts beneath blazers, a chainsmoker, a little bit sleazy, with music knowledge to put Nardwuar to shame. Instead, what you got is a mostly-bald, clean-cut, mid-forties guy who wears khakis most days of the week and says things like ‘circle back’ and ‘best practice.’ He’s competent, sure, and you need him to like you, absolutely, but he does make your job feel a little less cool. But who knows! Maybe Kevin rocks out on the weekends. You certainly don’t, so who are you to judge?

Kevin waves you in, and before you even have the chance to sit down, he’s dropping a bomb on you that makes you feel like your legs are going to give out beneath you.

“You’re taking charge on the Yijeong profile piece,” he says flippantly as peers over his glasses at his monitor, typing without pause.

There’s absolutely no way you just heard that right. Yijeong's profile was assigned already, to a reporter who has been at Look Here a lot longer than you. You tell Kevin as much, as if he wasn’t in the newsroom when the piece was pitched in the first place.

“Sora didn’t have enough bandwidth to juggle the profile and the reunion tour coverage, and that’s going to be on the cover,” Kevin says, without even a passing glance to you. As if he isn’t altering the trajectory of your career over a scheduling conflict. “It’s all you, kid.”

“I don’t have the contacts,” you blurt out, having mercy on your poor, wobbly legs as you sit down.

“Ask Sora for the contacts.”

“Don’t you want someone more experienced for this? Connected?”

It’s not that you don’t want it. Writing a profile on someone like Jang Yijeong is a dream come true for someone as green as you are. It may not be the cover article, but the headline will be written on the cover, and so far you’ve only written the puff pieces that readers likely use to pad outgoing mail. If you do this right, there’s a chance of less puff pieces and more real journalism.

It’s the if that scares you. Jang Yijeong has rebranded his entire career from being an idol to being a producer, so he’s technically considered an up-and-coming artist where Look Here is concerned. Nobody has heard his name in a few years, and a piece on him by a publication like Look Here could make him the most sought after producer in the country, if he plays it right.

But Yijeong has also been in the music industry for a long time. He’s been interviewed by countless reporters. He’s media trained. Good media training is a death sentence for profiles, which are supposed to dig deep into the subject. Trust is everything in this kind of situation, and if Look Here sends a rookie like you to interview Jang Yijeong without the proper connections, without someone to vouch for you, he will show up to the interview with a script in hand. The profile will be a dud and your career will pay the price.

Sighing, Kevin finally stops typing, looking at you for the first time since you walked into his office. You shift in your seat, trying to make yourself look less fucking terrified.

“Look, I could hand it off to someone else, but you’ve been doing a good job these past couple of weeks. In your interview, you told me you’re most interested in writing features. That you’re good at it. I’m throwing you a bone,” he says, and you take a shaky breath. “Take the piece. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel. You’ve written profiles before, you know what to do. Just ask good questions, don’t be stiff, and you’ll be fine.”

Kevin’s phone rings, and his attention is stolen again as he picks it up to answer it without a second thought. “Talk to Sora, and then take the day out in the field tomorrow to see what kind of background you can dig up,” he says, waving you out with the same indifference he waved you in with. You scramble to stand up, rushing to leave.

“Deadline is Wednesday!” he calls as you shut the door behind you, taking a moment to catch your breath before you try to find Sora.

Holy shit.

You have work to do.

★ ★ ★

You spend your entire day on Friday pounding pavement, milking all of Sora’s sources for what they’re worth, but you don’t learn any information about Jang Yijeong that you can’t find on his Wikipedia page.

You don’t give up easily, though. No, you plan to put your investigative reporting skills to good use, via a healthy session of social media stalking. You can find out a lot about someone from what they post on X and Instagram, after all. You have to reach out to Yijeong’s label to schedule an interview as soon as possible, and if you have to get your hard hitting questions based off of what you can glean from a meal he photographed in 2013, so be it.

It’s ten at night by the time you flop onto your bed, phone in hand, ready to pull an all-nighter and plunge yourself into the rabbit hole that is Jang Yijeong’s social media. Pepper hops up with you, curling up on your stomach and purring contentedly as you start scrolling.

Nearly two hours and ten possible interview questions later, your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Yoongi.

[11:47] Yoongi: Are you coming over or not?

Oh, fuck. It’s Friday. Meaning Yoongi is done with his track.

You’d almost forgotten how horny you’d been for the past week, completely absorbed in your assignment. It stands to reason that as soon as Yoongi is free, you’re suddenly swamped with work of your own. But, of course, it all comes rushing back just from a text.

Whatever! You’ve been at it for hours, anyway. You deserve a break.

[11:49] You: when did you get home?

[11:49] Yoongi: About half an hour ago.

[11:50] You: hmmmm… did you take a shower?

[11:50] Yoongi: Obviously. I’ve been in the studio for most of the week. I’m not an animal.

You snort to yourself, which scares the shit out of Pepper after your complete silence for the past two hours. You’re suddenly proud that you had the foresight to take a shower of your own when you got home from interrogating people all day, although this wasn’t on your mind at the time.

[11:50] You: leave the door open?

[11:51] Yoongi: Will do.

You very carefully nudge Pepper off of your stomach, giving yourself a cursory glance in your mirror once you’re up. You make sure that your hair looks good at least, but your clothes don’t matter as much. It’s not like they’ll be on for long anyway.

Satisfied with what you see, you make your way through your apartment, grabbing your keys to lock your door on your way out.

Maybe it’s the workload that was dumped on you yesterday, but you feel much more level headed about this than you thought you would. It’s like your body has finally caught up with your brain, and you can recognize this part of your relationship with Yoongi for what it actually is: stress relief. You’ll go to his apartment, he’ll give it to you so good, and then you’ll go back to work and he won’t care because, like he told you before, he gets it. You’re giddy just thinking about it.

Walking into Yoongi’s apartment isn’t daunting, nor is locking the door behind you. Nor is finding him on his couch and climbing into his lap without even a hello, crushing your lips to his the way you’ve spent all week dreaming about.

Yoongi makes a surprised noise against your mouth, his hands hovering at your waist, but he quickly melts into the kiss, letting you take the lead for a moment as his hands find their place, pulling you closer. It’s only when you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue, silently requesting entry that he pulls back, forcing you to breathe.

“Hi,” he says, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

“Hi,” you parrot back, grinning.

His hands slip from your waist to your hips as he looks you over, toying with the fabric of your sleep shorts. “Remember what we talked about yesterday?” You hum coyly, guiding his hand under the hem, which makes him huff, shaking his head with a smirk. “Wanting to do this the right way,” he reminds you, quickly removing his hand from where you led it, instead opting to smooth it over the curve of your ass.

“Easier said than done,” you reply, feeling bold enough to take the initiative that he won’t and sliding your hands under his shirt, running them over his abdomen. The fabric bunches up, and you can’t help but stare at the tantalizing inch of pale skin you’re rewarded with.

You gasp in surprise at the light spank Yoongi gives your ass in return, not nearly hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for you to pull your hands away. You know a warning when you see one—or feel one, that is. When you look up at him, he’s raising an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you said you wanted it like that,” he hums, rubbing over where he smacked you. “There’s always the alternative.”

Oh. That.

You wish you could say the thought of letting Yoongi fuck your throat wasn’t appealing, but there’s no hiding the way it makes you squirm, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. Yoongi hasn’t been particularly rough with you yet, but he’s hinted that he can be, if you want it. You imagine his hand on your jaw, encouraging you to open wider for him. Your eyes watering as you struggle to breathe through your nose. You still don’t know what his dick looks like, how thick it’ll feel on your tongue, how much your jaw will ache, but you’re eager to fill in the blanks of your imagination. You’ll definitely take him up on that one day, but no, he’s right.

You want to come. You want him to make you come. As stubborn as you are, you can’t deny that.

“You can take your time,” you mumble, meeting his eyes.

He smiles, bringing his free hand up to cup your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek like it did that night in his studio. “Good girl,” he murmurs, rewarding you with a sweet kiss that makes you moan, shifting your hips to grind against the bulge you feel stiffening under you.

Yoongi pulls away from your lips with a chuckle, patting your hip gently. “Up,” he says, and you scramble to your feet, no more bratty attitude to be found at the moment.

He stands with you, guiding you by the hand to his bedroom. Since he’s so adamant about taking his time, you take a moment to glance around the room, taking in all the little things about it that reflect what you’ve learned about Yoongi over the past several weeks.

Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom is much cleaner than you would’ve assumed. There’s a desk with a small home studio setup, much more sparse than what you’ve seen in his actual studio. The equipment looks old and well-loved, and you wonder how long he’s had it. A basketball jersey hanging over his desk chair with his name emblazoned on the back. A dresser with various jewelry scattered on top, chains and rings and earrings.

His bed, of course, takes up the most space in the room. Where you have a queen bed in your own bedroom, you note that his is clearly a king, with a soft looking black comforter over top. A comforter that you’re about to be pressed into, you think.

Yoongi comes up behind you, his hands on your waist, lips on your neck trailing kisses over your nape and making you shiver.

“Relax,” he murmurs, huffing a laugh that you feel more than hear. “Lie down for me?”

You nod, walking to the bed and settling flat on your back. God, is this a Purple mattress? You hate him a little bit. You found your mattress on the side of the road.

Yoongi doesn’t give you long to stew on your hatred, though. Not when he’s spreading your legs, your feet planted flat on the mattress beneath you so he can fit his hips between your thighs. Not when you can feel how hard he is already, even through the layers separating you.

He kisses you again, long and slow and hot, all of your breath leaving your lungs at the feeling of his lips on yours. “Remember to stop me,” he mumbles between kisses. “If I do something you don’t like.”

You honestly find it hard to believe that Yoongi could do anything you wouldn’t like, but you nod your head jerkily in response, not wanting to separate from his lips for any longer than necessary.

Soon, he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck as his hands push your shirt up slowly, only separating himself from you to pull it off entirely and toss it aside on the mattress.

“Fuck,” he groans at the discovery that you aren’t wearing a bra, his hands immediately coming up to squeeze your breasts. “Wanted to make it easy for me, huh, baby?”

In reality, you’d just been dressed for bed, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that, unable to form the words as his lips travel down to your chest, his tongue coming out to lave over a nipple.

You moan, your head falling back onto the mattress under you with a dull ‘thunk’ as Yoongi wraps his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks, your hands flying up to tangle in his hair.

“You like that,” he teases, a statement and not a question. He lifts his head, looking down at your tits with his bottom lip between his teeth. “So pretty, baby.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at the praise, and desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, your hands slide down to his chest, fisting in his shirt and tugging.

“Your turn,” you breathe, and he chuckles as he sits up on his knees, tugging his shirt over his head.

You can’t help but stare. It’s not that you thought that Yoongi would be skinny, per se, but he does have a tendency to wear clothes a little too big for him, dwarfing him, and given his already small stature due to his height… Not that you would’ve minded in the slightest if he was on the scrawnier side, but Christ. He’s decidedly not scrawny. He’s lean, with shoulders broader than you would’ve given him credit for at a passing glance.

And now here you are, gifted with an expanse of pale, smooth skin over compact muscle. Your eyes roam over him, from dusky nipples all the way down to the thin trail of dark hair starting right under his navel and leading your gaze down to where his cock strains against his sweatpants.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to touch somebody so badly in your life. The best part is that you can.

And you do. You feel greedy, your hands reaching out to smooth over his chest, down his abdomen, your eyes half-lidded and lips parted in a daze.

Yoongi lets you touch all you want, but when your hands move down to cup his erection through his sweatpants, you hear his breath hitch as he stops you, shaking his head and pinning your arm to the mattress gently.

“Your turn,” he murmurs softly, throwing your words right back at you. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tilting his head at you as he starts to pull them down, the movement torturously slow. “Wanna see if you skipped the panties, too.”

You lift your hips so he can pull them down the rest of the way. You are not, in fact, wearing panties, because you were going the fuck to sleep originally, and you hear him suck in a breath after the shorts are discarded.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he breathes. You ignore the funny thing your heart does in your chest at his words, opting instead to focus on his hand drawing closer to you.

You both moan when his fingers slide over you, finding you soaked once again.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses as he gathers your slick with his fingers. He drags them slowly up to your sensitive bundle of nerves and circles around it, only to slide back down again, repeating the motion again and again. You moan every time he reaches your clit, your hips bucking up into his touch.

“This pussy,” he starts, and you lift your head at sudden motion as he sinks down to lay on his stomach, holding himself up with his elbows, “gets so fucking wet for me.”

His pupils are blown as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, just like last time, but instead of going right for it, Yoongi starts pressing kisses to your thigh. Your head falls back onto the mattress again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he continues to speak.

“Been thinking about this all week,” Yoongi mumbles into your skin, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, forcing a gasp out of you. “You make it impossible to focus, you know that?”

A high, needy whine falls from your lips as he suddenly runs the tip of his tongue between your folds, and when you lift your head to watch, he pulls away, his dark eyes meeting yours in a smoldering gaze.

“I could’ve been done with that track on fucking Tuesday,” he says, dipping down again to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, making you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair again. “Do you know how many times I jerked off thinking about being between these thighs again?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whimper, his words conjuring images that make you feel as though you’re coming apart at the seams. Yoongi chuckles darkly, pressing a kiss to your clit.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he praises, his tone so dark it sends a shiver down your spine. “Gonna make you say my name like that again, baby. You want it?”

“Yes,” you gasp out without a second thought. You need his mouth on you so bad you feel like you’re going to explode. “Shit, please.”

“So polite.”

Yoongi doesn’t make you wait any longer, his head dipping back down again so he can taste you properly, the flat of his tongue licking slowly over your pussy.

“Thank you,” you moan, the words slipping out completely outside of your control. Yoongi’s movements pause for just a fraction of a second, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the worry that ‘thank you’ was a fucking weird thing to say to the guy eating you out. But then you feel Yoongi’s responding moan right into your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head, and his tongue resumes its movements.

True to his word, he’s taking his sweet time, savoring every bit of you, but you don’t fucking care. You want his cock, desperately, but he can stay down there for hours if he really wants to so long as it feels like this.

You lose track of time, your thighs trembling around his head as you lose yourself in the feeling of his tongue, but you’re quite literally yanked back into the moment when Yoongi lifts his head again, forcefully dragging you closer and latching his lips around your clit.

“Fuck, fuck—Yoongi, fuck!” you cry out as Yoongi makes it abundantly clear that he’s no longer interested in dragging this out any longer. The way he’s eating you out now is going to make you come, and soon.

You can hear the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you, even over the blood pulsating through your ears, even over the way you’re moaning for him as your orgasm barrels closer.

Your fingers pull at his hair, your hips shifting to grind against his tongue, and he moans into you again, his hands grasping at your hips to help you move. You take the action for what it is: he wants you to come. Like, now. Well, he doesn’t have to fucking tell you twice.

For the second time, you come from Yoongi’s tongue, writhing beneath him as you moan helplessly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your muscles clenching and unclenching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.

Yoongi works you through it, but unlike last time he can sense your impending overstimulation before you need to push him away, shifting to sit up on his knees as you catch your breath.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, running his hands over your body as his eyes trail over you appreciatively.

Shit, he’s one to talk. He looks so hot like this, his hair a mess from your pulling, his lips and chin slick from your pussy.

Not to mention, just like last time, he’s so fucking hard. The only difference is that this time, he’ll let you have it.

“Wanna touch you,” you breathe, already pushing up shakily to slide your hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Yoongi makes no move to stop you, his breath hitching as your hand wraps around him.

His length feels thicker than you expected in your hand, your mind instantly wandering to how it’s going to feel inside of you very soon. You don’t think you’ve ever taken something this thick before, and you want it so fucking bad.

“Shit, baby, just like that,” Yoongi grits out as you start pumping him slowly, his hips bucking forward into your hand. “Feels so good.”

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss quickly turns sloppy and desperate, lacking all finesse but somehow still so goddamn sexy. All the while, you keep touching him, his breath coming out shaky through his nose as he licks into your mouth with heat.

When your grasp on his cock gets a little firmer, his hips stutter and his hand comes up to grasp your wrist again, urgently halting your movements.

“Gotta stop. ‘m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he says, pulling away. There’s a flush in his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. It’s almost cute, but then he opens that fucking mouth again, his eyes locked on yours. “Wanna come inside you.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you breathe in agreement, nodding jerkily and pulling your hand from his pants in an instant. “Want that. Fuck me.”

Yoongi groans, his eyes shutting tightly. He shakes his head. “Need a minute,” he says, his voice almost pained. “Fuck, you’re too much.”

He busies himself with reaching over your body and across the bed, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table. You keep your hands to yourself, ignoring the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch again. If he needs a minute, he can have it. You’ve waited this long.

Once his body returns to yours, he tosses a condom next to you on the bed before dipping down to kiss you again. His lips are gentle on yours this time, slow and almost sweet, unlike any way he’s kissed you so far. The chasteness of it throws you off, but it isn’t necessarily unwelcome—not from Yoongi, at least. He’s probably just trying to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t come too fast, you reason.

After a few minutes, though, Yoongi’s lips part from yours and he presses one last kiss to your temple, reaching for the condom beside you.

“Ready?” he asks, the edge of the foil packet held between his teeth as he sits up, using both hands to push his sweatpants down.

Your eyes are glued to him as he rips the packet open carefully, rolling the condom onto his cock. Your imagination never would’ve done him justice. The sight of his long fingers wrapped around his length is enough for your last thread of patience to snap.

“I think I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now,” you say honestly, your eyes unmoving from his cock, and he laughs, sliding a hand up your thigh.

“Dramatic,” he teases, his fingers trailing over your pussy, ensuring that you’re still wet enough to take him. “You think you’re ready for it?” he asks, two fingers prodding at your entrance before they start fucking into you easily.

You whine, your back arching as his fingers scissor inside your pussy. “Can’t wait anymore,” you gasp out, and he relents, withdrawing his fingers to wrap them around his cock, shifting so he’s over you again.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing yours at this proximity. You feel the blunt head of his cock running through your folds, one last tease, before he lines himself up with your entrance. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Promise.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he slowly eases in, his breath shuddering next to your ear as he fills you bit by bit. The stretch makes your head spin, but Yoongi takes his time just like he promised, rubbing your hip soothingly to keep you relaxed.

“Finally,” you breathe when he finally bottoms out, and he laughs.

“Yeah? Gonna thank me again?” Yoongi jokes, but the way his cock twitches inside you betrays the way he really feels about that.

“Maybe when you make me come,” you quip in return, but his hips draw back, giving an experimental thrust back into you, and suddenly nothing is all that funny anymore.

You both moan, and Yoongi trails his nose up the side of your neck as he does it again, setting a rhythm of long, slow strokes.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, the wrecked sound of his voice sending a flare of arousal through you, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “You feel so good.”

All you can do is moan in response, your arms looping around his shoulders, hands in his hair. “Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he grits out, fucking into you just a little bit faster, a little bit deeper.

“Like that,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair out of desperation.

“Yeah?” he groans, snapping his hips into you with more force now. “You want it harder, baby?” At your choked ‘yes’, it’s like a switch has flipped, Yoongi’s hips snapping into you so forcefully you see stars, your thighs beginning to shake on either side of him as he slams into you.

His hands smooth up your thighs, deep thrusts continuing uninterrupted as he positions your legs, pinning your thighs between your bodies so you’re practically folded in half, and oh, fuck. The angle change makes the head of Yoongi’s cock hit the spot that makes you cry out, your nails dragging down the length of his back as you become instantly aware that you’re going to come soon.

“Mm–Yoongi, fuck, please don’t stop—I’m so close, please—”

“Taking me so good,” he groans. “Touch yourself, baby. Make yourself come, I’m right there with you.”

You obey instantly, your hand sliding down between your bodies to rub your clit with two fingers. Your walls flutter around him, making him hiss as you teeter on the edge of your impending orgasm.

Yoongi braces himself, held up with his hands on either side of you. It’s his eyes on you, his lip between his teeth as he watches you touch yourself that finally sends you hurtling over the edge. You squeeze tightly around him as you come, your body convulsing under him as the pleasure washes over you, his name falling from your lips over and over.

“Nghh, good girl, shit,” he grunts, the rhythm of his hips instantly becoming erratic. “Fuck, Y/N. Gonna come.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel Yoongi’s body tense, his cock pulsing inside of you as he spills into the condom with a groan. He drops down to his elbows carefully, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, his lips moving languidly over yours.

You kiss him back, but after a few moments you’re suddenly hyper aware of how… intimate this feels, kissing like this as he softens inside of you. You pull away to look up at him. “Thank you,” you say, grinning tiredly as you try to break the tension surrounding the moment.

It seems to work, because Yoongi laughs breathlessly, pulling out of you with care and shifting off of the bed to dispose of the condom. “Funny,” he says.

You take the opportunity to sit up, despite your body feeling like jelly. You don’t think you can take Yoongi cleaning you up on top of what just occurred.

“Bathroom?” you ask, heading to it when he points you in the right direction.

You clean yourself up quickly, and when you return Yoongi is, mercifully, dressed again and retrieving your shorts from the floor for you. You take them with a small, grateful smile, pulling your shorts and top back on.

“So you got your track done?” you ask, trying to make some light conversation.

Yoongi scoffs, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Few hours ago,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you a little funny. Whatever he’s thinking, though, he doesn’t say it. “How was your week, anyway? I know I was a little M.I.A.”

You brighten the slightest bit at his question, joining him on the bed. “Actually,” you say. “Something pretty cool happened yesterday afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of got entrusted with this huge assignment. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off, but if I do, it’s a career changer, for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, grinning at you. “That’s great, Y/N. You deserve it.”

His praise makes you blush, looking down to pick at a loose thread on his comforter. You only blush because you know he means it. Yoongi actually reads your stuff. Rina doesn’t even really read your stuff, and she’s your best friend. But maybe it’s because Yoongi is in the music industry and the stuff you publish is more interesting to him.

Yoongi is in the music industry.

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you shift closer to him.

“Actually,” you say. “I’m kind of struggling with it? And I was wondering, um… I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out a little bit. Do you happen to know Jang Yijeong?”

Yoongi stiffens next to you, not a lot, but enough for you to notice from this close. “Yeah, I know him,” he says anyway. “We’re friends.”

You’re confused by his reaction, but you soldier on. “I just need an interview with him. I need someone he can trust to set me up with him so he doesn’t give me scripted bullshit, you know? And… If you could be the one to do that, it would make my life a million times easier, honestly.”

For a long moment, Yoongi says nothing, not really looking at you. You don’t know what you said to get this reaction out of him, but you don’t like it, and you’re about to take back your request entirely when he speaks again.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him,” he says. He’s looking at you now, which makes you relax a bit.

“Really?” you ask softly. “Only if you’re okay with it, but it would seriously be a huge help.”

“Yeah, I’ll put in a good word,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. He suddenly seems much less stiff, like whatever weird moment that just took place has passed now, and he laughs. “Just promise you won’t make me regret it.”

At ease, you snort, rolling your eyes. “I promise,” you say flatly, nudging his shoulder with yours. Your voice softens. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he says easily, getting up from the bed and making his way to the door. “Have you eaten? I’m gonna make kimchijeon.”

Yoongi really is saving your ass. After fucking you so nicely, too. And now he’s making you midnight kimchijeon!

“That sounds good,” you call after him, smiling to yourself after he’s left the room.

Yeah, you can get used to this.

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scary-grace · 6 months ago

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 7) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Kurogiri snatches you from the alleyway behind the clinic. You’re ready for it, or as ready as it’s possible to be when you don’t know what Tenko’s planning. When you reappear, you’re not in the bar – instead you’re in the hallway outside Tenko’s room, and the door to his room is open. He looks pleased to see you. The hand’s already down off his face.

“You’re here. Good,” he says – but his expression shifts from anticipation into something sharper almost instantly. “What is it? Are you –”

This has been the worst twenty-four hours you’ve had since the night you first saw Tenko again. Between the visit with your family and the news about Kazuo and your encounter with Tenko’s master, you don’t have it in you to pretend. You take an unsteady step closer to him. “Can I, um –”

“What?” Tenko asks, but some part of him must know, because his arms lift from his sides, opening to leave space between them. You take another step closer, until you’re well within the space, and you know when he realizes, because he takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, you can. Go ahead.”

He hugs you back too tightly, but you’re probably hugging him too tightly in the first place. He can’t decide where to put his hands. He keeps trying different spots, but no matter where he touches you, it’s never with more than three fingers down. For your part, you keep your hands still on his back, resisting the urge to run them over his shoulder blades or along his spine. He’s really thin. Almost malnourished thin. No wonder his wounds take so long to heal.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, let your eyes fall shut. “What happened?” Tenko asks. He adjusts his grip on you without fully letting go. “Why do you look like that?”

His master said not to tell Tenko – no, advised you not to tell Tomura. But he also said he’d have no further dealings with you. You don’t know where Kurogiri is, what Kurogiri might say, so you speak as quietly as you can, your mouth just below Tenko’s ear. “I met your master.”

Tenko stiffens. “What?”

“Kurogiri took me to him. I thought he was taking me to you, but –”

“What did he want?” Tenko asks. His voice is tense, already going flat. “What did you tell him?”

“He wanted to know how I knew you. I told him about how we met last year, when you came to the clinic.” You feel Tenko’s shoulders relax slightly at that. “I used the right name. I don’t –”

“Here.” Tenko pulls away from you, but only long enough to pull you through the door to his room and shut it behind you both. “What else did he ask?”

“About my quirk. He said he’d give me one, but he changed his mind.” You try to remember, but it’s hard verging on impossible. All you can think of is the hand closing over your face, the enormous figure looming over you. “He said I was your game piece, not his. What does that mean?”

You look up at Tenko. Tenko’s expression is somehow grim and calculating at the same time. “He says everything’s for me. Everything should be as I want it, so he won’t take you away,” he says. Then, almost to himself: “But he was suspicious. If he finds out –”

“Finds out what?”

“Here.” Tenko pulls you closer than before. This time you feel his chapped lips against your ear. “I was supposed to say goodbye to my old name. When he gave me my family to wear.”

His family to wear. His family – the hands. You almost throw up. Tenko keeps talking, faster now. “I didn’t think about it. I hadn’t in years, until – and I feel different when I hear it. Different than I’m supposed to. I want the same things, but more things. I don’t know how to say it.”

“You’re not supposed to be Tenko anymore.” You feel him nod. “You feel more like that when you’re with me.”

Tenko nods again. “You always know how to say it right.”

“I know you,” you say. His grip on you tightens. “You’re in trouble with him because of me.”

“No.” Tenko’s index finger taps a pattern on your back. “I feel better when you’re here.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not in trouble. It just means he cares about it less, or he’s less worried than you are. “Just be careful with my name,” he continues. “Call me Sensei’s name around everyone else, even Kurogiri. When it’s just us, like right now –”

“Tenko,” you say, and he nods. You feel a little better, maybe. You don’t know for sure. And you know you’ve been hugging him for way too long. You step back. “Sorry about this. I –”

“Don’t,” Tenko says. “I told you. I don’t mind.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment. In your peripheral vision, you can see that the room’s even cleaner than it was the last time you were here. The coffee table still has a pileup of games on it, but there’s also an open energy drink can sitting there. With a flower sticking out of it.

You fixate on the flower. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it,” Tenko says, but he can’t hold your gaze, which means he’s lying and he probably stole it. “So you wouldn’t get confused this time.”

“About whether it’s a date?” you ask. He nods without looking at you. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date right now,” Tenko corrects. “The new members of the League will be here at midnight. Do you have a disguise?”

“I think so.” You’ve been carrying it around in your bag, since you don’t have a way to predict when Tenko will call for you. “Do you want to see it?”

He nods. You fish both pieces of it out of your bag and put it on, situating the veil over your face and peering at Tenko through the filmy fabric. “Can you see my face?”

“Not really.” Tenko tilts his head, studying you. “What is it?”

“My friends and I dressed up as vampire brides last Halloween, but I went a little too hard on the bride part,” you say. “I was going to use a mask, but it was hard to breathe, and I couldn’t see very well. And the veil covers my hair, too.”

Tenko nods again. “What’s the crown made of?”

“It’s supposed to look like thorns.” You cringe a little bit. “Hirono made me wear it with the costume, and I still needed something to hold the veil in place. Does it work?”

Tenko comes closer. A lot closer. “Not at this range,” he says. You’d have to agree. If you can count his eyelashes through the veil, he can definitely see your face. “I’m not letting any of them that close to you or me. You can take it off now.”

You lift the crown off, and the veil after it, and Tenko takes them from you, setting them down on the end of the coffee table next to the hand he usually wears on his face. They look unbelievably weird laid out next to each other – like the costume pieces they are, things the two of you can take on and off whenever you want to instead of symbols of what Tenko already is, what you’re getting yourself into. “The others won’t be here for a few hours,” Tenko says. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Do you need to do anything to get ready for the meeting?” you ask. “It sounds important.”

“The plan’s already done. I’ll tell you about who will be there, but we don’t need anything else. Just –” Tenko lifts his head as if to scratch at his neck, then lowers it again. “I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve thought about it enough. Can we –”

“Yeah,” you say at once. “Let’s just play.”

You play Call of Duty again, starting off in co-op mode this time. You were so worried that your skills would atrophy that you made Ryuhei and Mitsuru play with you until you got better, something Tenko remarks on right away. “I can’t believe you practiced.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a sidekick if I stayed dead weight,” you say. “Don’t worry. It won’t last long.”

The two of you still have a ways to go before the intermediate levels, and with the pressure off, Tenko starts telling you about the allies he’s collected. Mostly guys – for whatever reason, there aren’t a lot of female villains. The two women are Hiikishi, who goes by Magne, and Toga, who goes by Toga. Magne’s an adult with a serious record, and Toga would have a serious record if she was an adult, which she isn’t. “Seventeen?” you say, startled. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s a Stain fan,” Tenko says. He rolls his eyes, then takes out an entire group of enemies advancing on the two of you without looking at the screen. “So are two of the others. One of them’s got a fire quirk. He’s an asshole. The other one – he’s hard to get a read on. Keep an eye on him.”

“I can do that,” you say. You see a solitary enemy sneaking up behind Tenko’s character, adjust your viewpoint minutely, and shoot them before they can shoot him. “Who else?”

Toga apparently isn’t the only kid who’s taking on a life of villainy. There’s another high school student, too, and you think about what Kazuo said, about the question of whether the creation of new villains can be prevented. Two of the other new allies fall into the category of those Kazuo said would be drawn to violence regardless. You recognize both names from the news, and you’ve listened to enough true-crime podcasts at Mitsuru’s behest to know that at least one of them is supposed to be behind bars. “Did you break them out?”

“Kurogiri’s doing that,” Tenko says, unworried. “They’re the distraction. Compress will be doing the real work.”

“Compress?”

“We were lucky to find him,” Tenko says. There’s a nasty grin on his face. “You’ll hear more about him when we go over the plan. We – dammit.”

The two of you leveled up while you were talking, and there are twice as many enemies as before. You decide to drop the line of questioning and focus on the game. Playing with Mitsuru and Ryuhei, you never got through the first of the intermediate levels. Tenko’s better than they are by a long shot, but you’ll need all your wits about you to avoid dragging him down.

You and Tenko play in silence for the most part, working together as a team, and you notice the two of you shifting closer together as the game continues, moving from your separate corners of the couch to the middle of it. You’re paying attention to the game, but every so often your mind drifts – to the flower in the energy drink can, to the fact that this is apparently a date, to the fact that Tenko let you hug him and hugged you back. If this is a date, if he keeps calling it a date, there must be something he wants from you that’s more than this, more than whatever the two of you are doing right now. You could ask what it is. Part of you doesn’t want to know.

You and Tenko clear one or two intermediate levels, but on the third one, you know the two of you are in deep trouble. You’re low on health already, courtesy of getting dinged a few times on the level before, and your skills, while improved, aren’t good enough to let you hold your own. Tenko’s having to protect you, just like you were worried he would, and in the process, he’s taking damage, too. Despite that, courtesy of Tenko’s skills and your weird accuracy, the two of you progress to the end of the level. Almost.

“Come on,” Tenko hisses. He’s two seconds away from disintegrating his controller. “We can make it.”

No, you can’t. Not both of you. But if Tenko can get through, he can get to a save point, and you can finish the level later. If you both die, you have to go back to the beginning. With that in mind, it’s an easy choice. You maneuver your character between Tenko’s and the enemies sneaking up on him from behind, and shoot as many of them as you can before they overwhelm you. Tenko turns to stare at you in horror. “You died?”

“You didn’t. Go!”

Tenko swears, shoots the enemies you couldn’t kill, and clears the level at speed. He saves his progress. Then he turns on you. “What happened?”

You point at the screen, which is showing a slow-motion replay of your character getting absolutely shredded by enemy fire. “You were blocking for me?” Tenko looks unhappy. “Idiot. We could have won.”

“I was slowing you down too much,” you say. “I could help you get through, so I did. Now you don’t have to start over.”

“But you do.”

“I’m the sidekick. It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure why he’s looking at you like that. “And even if I wasn’t your sidekick – there’s no way I’d let my best friend lose.”

Tenko doesn’t say a word in response. Instead he sets his controller aside, then lifts yours out of your hands and does the same. You’re sitting really close together right now. He said this was a date. You make eye contact with Tenko, or try to. He’s not looking into your eyes. He’s looking at your mouth.

He’s being really obvious. You wonder if he knows. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

“Yeah. You.” Tenko doesn’t look away from your mouth. “Don’t you remember?”

For a moment you don’t. But then you remember the picture of the two of you on Valentine’s Day, and what happened after the picture was taken – you taking the valentine from him, planting a poorly-aimed kiss half on his mouth and half on his cheek, and promptly running away. You’re surprised he’s counting that. But you would count it, too, if it was the only thing you had to count.

“I remember,” you say. “So this is going to be our second kiss.”

“Who said I was going to kiss you?”

“You’ve been staring at my mouth for the last minute and a half. I’m not sure what else you could be doing,” you say. Tenko’s face turns red, which means you’re right, but he still doesn’t make a move. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Tenko shakes his head. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Don’t do anything with them for now,” you suggest. Your heart is beating faster. “Let’s just try it and see how it goes.”

He’s leaning closer now, shifting position to close the gap even further. The flush in his cheeks is darker than before. “I’m not going to be good at it.”

“Hey, I was pretty bad at Call of Duty last time,” you say. Tenko starts to argue that kissing and Call of Duty have absolutely nothing in common, and you cut him off. “You know how I got better? I practiced.”

Tenko finally tears his eyes away from your mouth. “You wouldn’t have had anything to practice if I hadn’t taught you how. You should kiss me.”

“I kissed you the first time,” you say. “It’s your turn.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Fine,” Tenko says. He leans in and you tilt your head to the proper angle and your lips meet for the first time in fifteen years.

You really don’t want to count the kiss when you were five as your first kiss, but Tenko’s counting it, so you sort of have to. His lips are rough against yours, not in pressure but in texture, and you’re careful as you kiss him back. Careful for a whole host of reasons. His hands are curled into fists on his thighs, and you don’t want him to move without thinking. You don’t want him to pull away, either, which is what he’ll do if you go overboard. It’s not the hottest first kiss you’ve ever had, but it’s the most intense by far. The fact that your lips are the only point of contact makes it even more so.

You’re trying to be careful, but you’re not careful enough – Tenko’s lower lip splits, and you taste blood. You sit back in a hurry. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t care.” Tenko closes the gap between you again, presses his lips against yours a second time. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you admit. You feel Tenko’s lips curve into a smile, spilling more blood onto yours. “But you have to let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

You unfold your hands from your sides and raise them, setting them on Tenko’s shoulders. Tenko freezes. You risk dragging your thumbs slowly across his collarbones, too prominent just like his shoulder blades and vertebrae are, and see his eyes fall half-lidded. A slow shudder runs through him, shedding tension in its wake. “Do you mind?” you ask.

“No.” Tenko kisses you again.

Kissing Tenko is – strange. It’s not bad. Definitely not bad, and definitely not something you want to stop doing, but still, it feels strange. Part of it is the taste of his blood on your lips, the almost-starved ridges of his shoulders and spine under your hands, the fact that you can touch him but he can’t touch you. And part of it is the missing piece of time, those fifteen years where you would have known each other if this hadn’t happened to Tenko – whatever this was. It feels almost like a blink. When you look back in your memories, you’re little kids, linking pinkies on the way to school. Now you’re kissing on the bed in Tenko’s room with Call of Duty paused in the background. Or making out. If the total lack of daylight between your mouth and Tenko’s is anything to go by, you graduated to making out already.

You can’t get your tongue involved without tasting even more of his blood, but the sound he makes and the shudder that runs through him when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip to clear it away makes it almost worth it. His fists are no longer resting on his thighs – now they’re on yours, fingers uncurling and curling again. You dare to slide one hand upward, tracing the back of his neck, and Tenko groans, shudders. The thought comes to you, again, that you should be careful with him. He’s so thin, so shaky under your hands. If you push him too far, he might break apart.

Tenko’s trying to talk without disconnecting his mouth from yours. That’s not going to work. You wrap your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not going anywhere and sit back. “What is it?”

“I want to touch you.” Tenko’s eyes are locked on yours this time, and the hunger and desperation you see there takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to make it safe. I don’t want –”

Something happens to him then. You don’t know how to describe it. Something flashes behind his eyes, and his shoulders tense beneath your hands, muscles turning so rigid and brittle that they feel as though they could shatter. “It’s okay,” you say quickly. You shift closer to him without asking first, halfway into his lap, trying to give him some of the contact he wants without getting his hands involved. “You could go slow. Or be careful. Or if you had gloves –”

Tenko’s eyes light up. “Wait here.”

You shift out of his lap as requested and he gets to his feet, heading for one corner of the room. You take a second to get composed. You can still taste Tenko’s blood on your lips, and when you raise your hands to touch your cheeks, they feel hot. Kissing him feels good, is good – but you’ve always liked your makeouts a little more hands-on, and once Tenko’s able to touch you safely, you can’t vouch for how well you’ll behave yourself. Are you really the only one who’s ever kissed him? He must be a quick study. Even with his blood on your lips, you’re already missing the heat of his mouth on yours.

Tenko’s back a moment later. He has a pair of gloves on – gloves that are missing the first three fingers. It takes all five to activate his quirk, which means you’re safe, and he still has the chance to touch you directly. He hesitates before he sits down again. “Do you really want –”

“Yes.” You catch his hand – it’s safe to do that now – and pull him down beside you. He makes a startled sound, which you immediately muffle in a kiss. It’s cute, but there are sounds you like better. “I want you.”

You were going to be more specific with what you wanted – I want you sounds heavy as all hell when the two of you have only just gotten physical – but Tenko doesn’t give you the chance. He wraps his arms around you tightly, so tight that it’s almost hard to breathe, but he doesn’t hold you that way for long. Soon enough his hands are roaming across your back from shoulder to hip, freezing briefly when they encounter your bra through your shirt, all while he deepens the kiss to an almost unsustainable degree. It’s like he’s trying to steal the air out of your lungs.

Tenko’s hands seize your shoulder, your hip, and grip hard. You don’t like being handled roughly, but held – that’s something different. You swallow a gasp and press closer to him, almost in his lap again. His grip on you tightens further and he pulls you the rest of the way. Your lips unlock from his in the move, coming loose with a slurping sound that would probably make you cringe under other circumstances, with someone else. As it is, you seize the opportunity to catch your breath.

Tenko looks up at you. His fingers are pressing deeply into your skin, hard enough to bruise through your clothes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pressing against your own, and his red eyes are wide, pupils dilated. When you shift, trying to get settled in his lap, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Hold still.”

You’re comfortable now. You don’t mind. You look at him, studying the small things, the ones you remember from before. The tousled, slightly messy texture of his hair. His eyelashes, always a little longer than you expect them to be. The birthmark at the corner of his mouth, which you lean in to kiss lightly. You’ve always wanted to do that. Half the reason your first kiss was so messy was because you couldn’t decide whether to aim for the birthmark or his lips.

When you draw back, you see a surprised look on Tenko’s face. “You like that?” he asks. You nod, and a strange expression flickers across his face. “My grandma had it too.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“My other one. I saw in a picture.” Tenko’s thumb moves in slow circles over your hip, like he’s rubbing a worry stone. You don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. “She was a hero.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to say that. He nods. “You never told me.”

“I was going to.” Tenko’s eyes shift away from yours. “I found out that day.”

That day. It takes you a second to parse that, but once you do, your blood runs cold. The question balances on the tip of your tongue, a question you’ve been asking yourself for fifteen years, a question you know you shouldn’t ask him. You don’t need to know what happened. You saw what happened. All you need to know is that he’s here.

“Hey,” you say softly. Tenko won’t look at you, so you reach out, cupping the curve of his cheek, turning him back to put you face to face, if not eye to eye. “I’m glad you told me now. Better late than never. It would have been good to know for our games.”

Tenko scoffs at that. “We used to play some stupid games.”

“I liked them,” you say. “I like any game I play with you.”

Tenko’s been avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you, and your breath catches. You can’t let him look at you like that. You’ll say more than you mean to. “Do you want to keep talking?” you ask. “Or do you want to make out some more?”

For a second you think Tenko will opt for talking. He looks like he’s thinking about it. Then the hand on your shoulder shifts to wrap around the back of your neck, and he drags you down for another kiss.

This position seems like it works for the two of you. The difference in your heights is perfect for it, and it gives you a little more control over the kissing while giving Tenko the chance to put his hands wherever he wants. He keeps them well clear of anything too forward, and eventually he finds a place he likes for both of them – one on your lower back, beneath the hem of your shirt, and the other around the back of your neck. It keeps you close, as if there was any chance you’d pull away.

You’re kissing too deeply to talk, except for once, when Tenko pulls away to make eye contact. “No more dates with heroes.”

You only went on that one date with Sugimura. After the night on the rooftop in Hosu, you had to accept that your feelings were elsewhere. “None for you, either.”

Tenko snorts. Then, almost as an afterthought: “No more with anybody.”

“You’re trying to lock it down already?” you tease. “It’s only our second date.”

“I don’t care.” Tenko’s expression is serious. “I don’t want another sidekick. You shouldn’t want another –”

He trails off, searching for the word. The word that follows naturally is ‘hero’, but you understand why he won’t use it. “I don’t want that,” you say. “You can lock me down. As long as I get to lock you down. It’s only fair.”

When you’ve had talks with guys about exclusivity in the past, they’ve looked vaguely annoyed. Tenko actually looks pleased with the thought. Not that that stops him from ribbing you about it. “You’re the one with seven siblings. You don’t like sharing?”

“I hate it.” you say, and he laughs. “You would, too, if you were me.”

Tenko smirks. He leans back from you without loosening his grip. “Go ahead, then,” he says. “Lock me down.”

He really shouldn’t challenge you like that. It gives you ideas. You lean in like you’re going to kiss him again, diverting at the last second to kiss the side of his neck, and Tenko’s complaints about how you don’t get to lock him down if you won’t even kiss him evaporate in seconds. You keep kissing him anyway. He wants you to lock him down? Fine. You’ll make sure everybody who looks at him knows that he belongs to somebody, even if they don’t know who that somebody is.

His neck is sensitive, and he’s not the quiet type. As high as his pain tolerance supposedly is, he’s almost absurdly sensitive to pleasure, and you like the idea of making him feel good a little too much. You know it’s working when Tenko’s grip on you changes, when he starts scrabbling for purchase on your back or your hip rather than holding tight, but even better than that is the unsteady sound of his breathing in your ear, the little noises he makes. You like it when guys are vocal. After one sound that crosses the line into a moan, you stop, and speak without lifting your mouth from his skin. “Locked down enough for you?”

“Fuck,” Tenko mumbles. You draw back to look at him and find his face flushed. “Maybe a little more –”

You kiss his mouth this time. You’re getting used to the taste of blood.

You don’t hear footsteps in the hallway or hear the door open, but you absolutely hear Kurogiri’s voice issuing from the doorway. “Shigaraki Tomura. It is nearly midnight.”

You pull away from Tenko, but not completely enough – there’s a rope of saliva stretching between your lips and his, which you deal with by leaning in to kiss him again. Tenko’s clearly embarrassed by Kurogiri’s presence, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back before he pulls away. “Knock next time,” he snaps at Kurogiri. “Are they here?”

“I will retrieve them shortly. Once the two of you are presentable.” Kurogiri apparently doesn’t trust the two of you not to go back to making out. He stands in the doorway, watching as you scramble out of Tenko’s lap and Tenko gets to his feet. “So the date went well?”

There’s that syntax shift again. “Shut up,” Tenko mutters. “Don’t act like you didn’t break my rule. You took her to Sensei. You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”

“If his orders contradict yours, my instructions are to follow his,” Kurogiri says. Tenko’s head snaps up. “I thought you were aware.”

“Now I am.” Tenko straightens his shirt and settles the hand over his face. He turns to face you and you wince. “What?”

You’ve seen the sketch of him from the USJ incident. It’s been all over the news for the past few weeks. “The hands for your neck – you might want them. There’s, um, evidence.”

“Evidence?” Tenko repeats, puzzled. Then his face turns red around the hand. He hurries to the far corner of the room and lifts a set of hands out, quickly securing them around his neck. “Can you see it now?”

You shake your head. “It is well hidden,” Kurogiri remarks. He looks to you. “Your disguise?”

You forgot about that. You collect the veil and crown off the end of the coffee table and secure both over your head. “I will retrieve the others,” Kurogiri says. “But first, the two of you.”

Warp gates open beneath your feet and Tenko’s, and when they close, you find yourselves in the bar again. Kurogiri himself vanishes, and Tenko settles into his usual seat. You stand there awkwardly. “Where do you want me to be?”

“Sit here.” Tenko taps the bar, and you scramble up. “Watch everybody. Keep an eye on the Stain fans. Act like you already know the plan. I should have told you already. I just –”

“You had other things to think about.” Your veil hides your face better than the hand hides Tenko’s – your face can flush until you’re practically glowing and no one will be able to see it unless they’re right up close. “How will I know if you want me to step in?”

“You’ll know when, if you need to. I trust you.” Tenko looks left, then right – then down at his hands. “Fuck. I can’t wear these. They’ll –”

“Here.” You hold out your hands for Tenko’s, and when he extends them, you peel the gloves off and tuck them away. With the model hands on and all ten fingers exposed, he’s different. You’re not sure how to quantify it, but you know it’s there, and it prompts a question. “Should I call you Shigaraki or Tomura?”

“Shigaraki,” he says, and you nod – but then, as the first warp gates begin to appear, he changes his mind. “Tomura. You’re different than they are. They should know from the start.”

So he’s planning to make your status distinct from the others, right from the beginning. You don’t know if that’s a good idea, but before you can protest or push back even slightly, the first of the allies Tenko’s gathered step through the portals, and you fall silent. Unless something goes horrendously wrong, you’re going to stay that way for the duration of the meeting.

The first two villains to arrive are also the youngest – the girl, Toga, and the boy who named himself Mustard, after the gas. Next up is the fire quirk-user, notable because of his patchwork skin and the staples holding the living tissue to the dead. You stare from behind the safety of your veil. You have no idea how his body is holding together. It shouldn’t be possible.

Next is a heteromorph, green-skinned and purple-haired, wearing a Stain mask. He must be the one Tenko – no, Tomura – said was hard to get a read on. The one you’re supposed to watch.

Magne arrives, followed shortly afterwards by a masked man – Compress, definitely, because the two men who arrive last are the murderers Kurogiri must have just broken out of prison. They scare you in a way the others don’t, and you’re so wary of them that you almost miss the arrival of the last villain. And you really shouldn’t miss his arrival. After all, he’s the only villain here who you’ve met before.

“Twice?” you say, startled, and Tomura looks up at you. Luckily, everyone else is still getting their bearings, and at least you said it quietly. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Tell me later,” he says, and then he faces the other villains.

You’re not sure what he’s going to say, where he’s going to start, but in spite of the hands and the crew of monsters he’s assembled, all you can see is your childhood friend when he speaks. He sounds like he always did, laying out the details of the story before the game begins. “The heroes have regained their confidence. Because they dealt with Stain, they think it’s all been solved. I know that at least a few of you have questioned the effectiveness of what the League’s done so far. So have I. So we’re going back to what worked last time. We’re going to attack UA.”

Your stomach lurches. No wonder Tenko didn’t tell you. He must have known you wouldn’t approve. “They’ve tightened up security since your last attack,” Toga pipes up. “I took a look around, like you said. Nobody noticed me, but the whole campus is locked up tight.”

“Good work,” Tomura says, and Toga grins. Her incisors are sharp. “Toga’s reconnaissance confirmed my conclusion: UA is impregnable for now, which is why we’re not attacking the school itself. They’re running a summer training camp at a remote location, with significantly less security. That’s where we’ll hit them.”

“Them,” the fire quirk-user repeats. “Not All Might.”

“Not yet. We need to level up before we take him on.” Tomura’s shoulders are tense. “Hitting the camp, threatening their precious students – if the heroes can’t even protect their own kind, they can’t claim to be capable of protecting everyone else. Besides, that’s not the only reason we’re going there. You all are a good start, but we’ll need more allies if we want to win.”

“Why do you need more?” Mustard asks. “You’ve got us. We’re not good enough?”

Based on the belligerence, this is a sore spot. If Tomura can’t navigate it, you’ll step in – but somewhere beneath the hands, Tomura’s still the kid who knew how to make everybody feel included. “We can’t fight a war on just one front,” he says. “You and the others will win the strategic battle by destroying UA’s sense of superiority. And while you’re doing that, Compress and Toga will collect what we need to win the PR battle as well.”

“Indeed,” Compress agrees. “Are there other students you’d like me to capture, Shigaraki? Or are you interested only in the victor from the Sports Festival?”

The explosion kid. You remember him – the one who was so batshit berserk that he had to be muzzled and chained to a pole for the award ceremony. Tomura wants him for the League? “Use your discretion,” Tomura says. “He’s the priority. If you see others who are better suited to us than to the heroes, take them, too.”

“And I’ll get the blood,” Toga chimes in. Everyone turns to stare at her. “My quirk lets me turn into the people whose blood I drink! I can make myself look like a student, and I can say anything I want.”

Like a living deepfake. You knew Tomura was smart, but this is verging on diabolical. “What about the rest of us, then?” Muscular asks. There’s a sharp smile on his face, and just like Tomura, he’s tense. “Are we supposed to just stand around?”

“There will be pro heroes present,” Tomura says. “Mustard will incapacitate the students, but the pros will be more difficult to handle.”

“Difficult? For me?” Muscular scoffs and takes a step forward. “Just because an underground hero handed you your ass doesn’t mean I’ll have a problem.”

“If Eraserhead cancels your quirk, you’ll be in the same spot as me,” Tomura says shortly. He gets to his feet. Not good. “If you think I’m that easy to defeat, try your luck.”

It looks like Muscular wants to. Tomura’s hands are open at his sides, rising slightly, and just like you did in the convenience store last year, you speak up. “Both of your records speak for themselves,” you say, and Muscular turns to stare at you. “Tomura recognizes that the pros pose a threat to the success of the plan. And he recognizes that you’re well-equipped to handle them. That’s why you’re here.”

It’s quiet for a second. Muscular doesn’t step back into line, and neither does Tomura – but neither of them make a move, and when Tomura speaks again, Muscular doesn’t interrupt. “If you haven’t been given a more specific assignment, your job is to sow chaos,” he says. “Dabi, Spinner, Magne, Muscular, Moonfish – deal with the pros. If you have the opportunity to kill them, do it, as slowly or as quickly as you’d like. If not, keep them out of the way.”

“What about the students?”

Moonfish sounds like he’s speaking through a mouthful of razors. It makes your skin crawl, but Tomura doesn’t flinch. “The focus needs to be on the heroes and their failings, not on a bunch of dead kids. If that happens, that’s all anyone will talk about,” Tomura says. “Hurt them. Don’t kill them. That goes for all of them – except one.”

“Which one?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“No.” The green-skinned heteromorph speaks up for the first time. “Not him.”

Tomura turns towards him, incredulous, and the heteromorph keeps talking. “Stain spared his life. He recognized him as a true hero. I won’t subvert Stain’s will like that.”

A joke pops into your head – Stain’s not gonna fuck you – and you clench your jaw shut. “Stain’s will?” Tomura repeats. “Stain lost.”

“His ideas still live,” the heteromorph – Spinner, you think – says. “Are you following in Stain’s footsteps or not?”

You see Tomura’s shoulders tense again and realize that you’ve got approximately three seconds before he blows his top. “Stain and Tomura share a belief that hero society is rotten to the core,” you say. “The fact that the only examples of true heroes Stain could find are All Might and a fifteen-year-old illustrates the decay. Don’t you think?”

You’ve put Tomura and Stain on the same conceptual level, and you’ve put Spinner on the spot – and most importantly, you’ve contained Tomura for the time being. “I guess,” Spinner says after a second. “I still don’t think –”

“If you’re worried about following in Stain’s footsteps, follow them by killing false heroes,” Tomura interrupts. “There will be plenty to choose from at the training camp. Don’t concern yourself with Midoriya Izuku. Act as your ideals demand.”

Tomura glances around the room. “That goes for all of you. Use what methods you’d like. Act as you see fit, so long as those actions don’t imperil our common goal. Disrupt the camp, disable any pro heroes who get in your way, kill them if you want, and assist Toga and Compress in completing their objectives.”

It’s quiet. You can tell Tomura’s waiting for an argument, and when one doesn’t come right away, he picks one. “Does anyone have issues with their assigned role?”

“I have an issue,” the fire quirk-user says. Dabi, you think. The one Tomura said was an asshole, and when he points one finger at you, you decide you agree with Tomura’s assessment. “What’s your role? Who are you?”

“Yeah,” Muscular says. “What’s under that veil? And why do you talk so much?”

“She’s our medic,” Tomura says. “She’s trustworthy.”

“She’s hiding her face.”

“So am I,” Twice pipes up. “And Compress. Shigaraki, too. Besides, it’s good to have a medic! If the medic’s good.”

You owe Twice for having your back, even if he doesn’t know you. Dabi doesn’t look convinced. “What’s your name?” he repeats.

“You get her name when I get yours,” Tomura says. “My alliance with her existed before the League did. She’s trustworthy.”

Toga squints at you, then takes a few steps closer. “I like your costume,” she says. “You look like a bride.”

“I can’t see your face at all,” Magne says. “Hopefully it’s cuter than the veil is.”

“I hope so, too,” you say. Magne laughs.

Tomura doesn’t like that. You can tell. “Kurogiri, bring the maps,” he orders. A warp gate opens in the middle of the room, disgorging a map taped to a rolling whiteboard. “I don’t know your quirks as well as you do. We’ll devise this attack plan collectively.”

Tomura wasn’t in school long enough to learn what a pain in the ass group project are, but given that villains don’t like being bossed around, it’s not the worst strategy. You hang back, physically and verbally, steering clear of Dabi and Muscular and only stepping in when the temperature needs to be turned down. You’re the least powerful person in a room full of people who think nothing of throwing their weight around. In some ways, it’s just like being at home with your family.

Tomura asked you to watch, and you start piecing together an understanding of the group’s dynamic. The most stable individuals in the group are Kurogiri, Magne, and Compress, all by a long shot. The most easily dysregulated is Mustard, and while you think Dabi and Muscular can probably control themselves, you also think they’ll choose not to. You have a pretty good grasp on Twice from your previous meeting. Moonfish doesn’t say enough for you to be able to tell, but he also doesn’t start fights, and Toga’s a dark horse. So is Spinner.

Spinner’s hard for you to figure. He’s got no criminal record, but unlike Toga and Mustard, he’s old enough to have collected one. He’s probably the biggest Stain fan of the group, the only one who pushed back against Tomura on ideological grounds, but he’s also something of a team player. His role in the attack gets settled early, and he shifts to the outskirts of the group. After a few minutes psyching yourself up to do it, you slide down from the bar and join him.

He glances over at you, then double-takes. “You look like a ghost in that thing,” he says. “It works, though. I’d hide my face if my face mattered.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. “You’re joining the League of Villains. Your face is about to get pretty famous if you don’t cover it up.”

Spinner laughs, but there’s a rueful note to it. “I’m not exactly breaking hearts by turning to a life of crime. At least this way I’m doing something with my life.”

Weird and weirder. “What were you before this? If it’s okay for me to ask.”

“Only if it’s okay for me to ask how long you’ve known Shigaraki.”

You think about that. “Does ‘a long time’ count as an answer?”

“That depends. Is it months or years?” Spinner asks. You don’t know if you should answer that, and Spinner can tell. “I know I pissed him off earlier. You shut it down pretty fast. I figure either it’s your quirk or you just know him really well.”

“It’s not my quirk,” you say. You think back to the first time Tenko told you his new name. “Less than forever, more than a year.”

“I was a shut-in,” Spinner says, answering your question without responding to your answer to his. No wonder he’s got a record. It’s hard to get a record when you don’t leave your room. “That video of Stain’s is the first thing I ever saw that made sense. If you all have the same goal as Stain did, then I’m in the right spot.”

You nod. Someone is raising their voice in the group, and you key in – but it’s just one of the versions of Twice, getting excited about something. Spinner glances curiously at you. “You sure you don’t have an alias or something?”

You shake your head. You might be at a meeting of villains, wearing a disguise, listening to them plan to kidnap one high school student and traumatize the hell out of a few more, but picking out a name for yourself feels a little far. If Tomura thinks you need a name, he’ll probably give one to you.

The meeting breaks up two hours after midnight. You missed hearing the date the attack will take place, possibly on purpose, and when the group splits, leaving just you and Tomura and Kurogiri, you don’t ask what it was. Kurogiri pours drinks for you and Tomura. You sit down at the bar next to him, and he speaks without looking up from his glass. “What did you find out about Spinner?”

“He was a shut-in before. As long as you can tie your goals to Stain’s, he’ll follow along,” you say. Tomura nods. “How did the rest of it go?”

“I’m leaving some of the on-site planning to them. I’m not there to give orders, so they need to be able to adapt.” Tomura takes a sip of his drink. “Dabi’s a pain in the ass, like I thought, but I’m giving him temporary control of a Nomu to use during the fight. That should keep him quiet for now.”

He’s thought of everything. “You’re good at this stuff,” you say. “You barely needed me.”

Tomura looks up. “Yes, I do.”

It’s quiet for a little bit after that. You and Tomura drink, you staring down into your glass and Tomura staring at you, until you look up at the clock behind the bar and realize what time it is. “I have work in the morning. I have to go home.”

“Stay.” Tomura catches your sleeve with three fingers, but a small portal opens, depositing your bag a few feet away on the bar. “Kurogiri can take you to work from here.”

“I can’t show up in yesterday’s clothes. And I need to sleep. So do you.” You’re right, and Tomura knows it. He scowls anyway. He’s never happy when you leave, but right now he looks unhappier than usual. “What is it?’

“Once the attack happens, I can’t bring you back until things settle down.” Tomura’s looking unhappier by the second. “The brat can’t see you until I know he’s with us.”

“Oh,” you say. You wonder how long that will take. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“It’s not okay,” Tomura snaps. “It’s – take that thing off. I need to see you.”

You take it off quickly. “Kurogiri,” Tomura says. “Turn around.”

“I will return in five minutes.”

Kurogiri vanishes, and once he does, Tomura lowers the hand from his face, pries the other two from around his neck, and just like that, he’s Tenko again. “It’s not okay,” he repeats. “I need you with me. I feel different when you’re here.”

“Different than what?” you ask. He must think it’s a positive change, or he wouldn’t want you to stay. Tenko doesn’t answer. “Send Kurogiri to get me as soon as it’s safe, Ten. I’ll be waiting.”

You see his eyes light up ever so slightly, but it fades fast. “You’ll forget.”

Your heart aches, but this is something you can fix. “Let me show you something.”

The last forty-eight hours have been chaos, and you’ve spent most of it miserable, terrified, drunk, hungover, or making out with your childhood best friend on his couch. But somewhere in the middle of that, you managed to get into one of the two boxes you brought home from your parents’ purge and take something out. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear the locket, but you tucked it into your bag along with your disguise, and when you put your disguise away, you fish it out.

Tenko looks suspicious. “Who gave you that.”

“My parents, probably. That’s not the important part.” You close your eyes and struggle to come up with an explanation, one that doesn’t make you sound obsessed or insane or too invested in this, in him. “I found this in a box in my parents’ house. There was a lot of stuff in there about you and me.”

“Like what?”

“Pictures,” you say. “A birthday gift from you. The valentine you gave me. I put all that stuff in there when I was ten and taped it shut.”

“Why?”

“My parents were taking me to get my memory wiped the next day, so I really would forget.” You see Tenko’s eyes widen. “I hid that stuff from them, but I saved it for me. So even if the memory wipe worked, I could open it up and remember you again.”

You open the locket and hold it out for Tenko to inspect. You see his expression twist. “I never forgot about you,” you say. “When we saw each other again, that’s why I reacted that way. I always hoped you were alive. If I didn’t forget you in fifteen years, a few days or weeks or months isn’t going to make a difference.”

Tenko’s jaw is clenched. The tendons in his neck stand out, and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You were trying to help, but it looks like you’ve made it worse. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have –”

Tenko seizes you and yanks you into his arms. “Shut up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shoulder, or maybe your chest. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”

“You have to. It’ll be okay,” you say. “I did promise not to go on any dates with heroes.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your arms are around Tenko, and you feel his shoulders shake. “That’s not funny.”

You know that particular note in his voice. It makes you feel better. “Don’t laugh, then.”

Tenko snorts, hugs you closer and tighter. Then he lets you go. “Next time you’ll stay,” he says.

“If I have the next day off, sure,” you say, and Tenko smiles slightly. “We never got to have sleepovers before.”

It’s true. You asked and so did he, but your parents said you were too young, even though neither of you would have been farther from home than right across the street. You see Kurogiri reappear out of the corner of your eye and know you’re out of time. “Be careful,” you say to Tenko. “Come find me as soon as it’s safe.”

“I will.” Tenko gets to his feet. “Turn around, Kurogiri.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing going on over there that I want to see.”

One of these days you’re going to ask Tenko why Kurogiri’s like that, why he seems like he’s two people in one. Not tonight. There isn’t time. You have time for one more kiss with Tenko, but that’s all – and the instant the two of you separate to take a breath, Kurogiri warps you away, dropping you back in your apartment. Your bag lands on the couch next to you. You still have the locket clenched in one hand. There are still a few drops of Tenko’s blood on your lips.

You lick them away, feeling twenty kinds of insane as you do it. Your mind is crowded with dozens of questions, thoughts, images, memories, all of them demanding to be addressed at once. You kick off your shoes, move your bag to the floor, and lie back on the couch. Your eyelids are heavy the instant you’re horizontal, and by the time it occurs to you that you should let go of the locket or at least put it somewhere safe, you’re fast asleep.

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