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inkandapex · 4 months ago

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stream madness

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : To the world, Y/N had always been Lando Norris’ closest friend—before the fame, the podiums, and the roar of F1 engines. Their bond had always been well-known, shared through countless moments on and off camera. But as the months went on, something started to shift, and it wasn’t just between Y/N and Lando. It became apparent through streams, where their chemistry couldn’t be denied.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: some swearing

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Max's Cooking Stream

“Done! I think they came out quite well,” Max announces, lifting the pan toward the camera, showing off the results of two hours in the kitchen.

The chat is already flooded with reactions—compliments, jokes, and the occasional disbelief at Max’s culinary skills.

"I'll be the judge of that" Lando states as he steps into view "Like master chef" he continues

Pietra is chatting with someone just out of view, her voice light and engaged. The mic, which has been filtering most background noise throughout the stream, only picks up bits and pieces of conversation—muffled words, distant laughter. But this moment? This one, it catches perfectly.

Lando steps away from where Max’s mic is propped, moving slightly out of frame. He reaches for a fork, his attention focused on someone unseen. And then, clear as day, his voice carries through.

"Love, come here a sec. Try it with me."

The chat explodes. But all three were too busy to realize what had just happened

"LOVE?? did he just say love??" "Stop rn who is he talking to" "someone find out rn pls" "it might be y/n, she was seen with them around monaco yesterday" "yeaa he calls her love sometimes i think its just a normal endearment for them lol"

All three, oblivious to the brewing chaos, all continue with what they were doing. Because whether it was intentional or not, Lando just dropped something big.

"Y/N’s here too, everyone! The whole gang’s here—Y/N, say hello to the chat," Max finally acknowledges, glancing at the flood of messages. It’s clear he’s doing some damage control, but the chat is already too far gone.

With a small wave and an amused little smile, Y/N finally steps into frame, grabbing a fork as she inches closer to the pan of food her friends have spent the past two hours making.

"Doesn’t look half bad, to be honest," she muses, inspecting the dish. "P’s really doing wonders, getting you this far into cooking."

Pietra laughs in the background while Max rolls his eyes, but before anyone can add to the banter, Y/N is already taking a bite.

"You’ve gotta—"

"Bloody hell—"

Lando’s warning comes a second too late. Y/N’s eyes widen as the heat hits, steam practically pouring out of her mouth as she waves a hand in front of her face, trying to cool down.

"You muppet, that’s literally fresh off the stove—c’mere," Lando chuckles, already unscrewing a bottle of water. He hands it to her, shaking his head as she takes it gratefully.

The chat? Utterly unhinged.

"NOT THE WAY HE JUST—"

"‘C’mere’ HE SAID ‘C’MERE’ I’M GONNA SCREAM."

"I AM LIVING FOR THIS CHAOS."

And just like that, what was supposed to be a casual cooking stream has become a full-blown internet event.

------------------------------------------------------------

Lando's Annual Stream

Everyone teases Lando about how he’s practically become a Twitch relic, only gracing the platform with his presence once a year. A far cry from the frequent streams he used to do. Some argue that it makes his rare appearances even more iconic, like a seasonal event the internet gathers for.

On one of his rare Twitch streams, Lando found himself diving into Backrooms with Max and a few other friends. As expected, chaos ensued—shouting, panicked laughter, and the occasional unintelligible screaming into the mic. But one moment, in particular, sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

The doorbell rings, making both Ed and Lando pause mid-game and glance at each other.

"Food’s here," Lando announces into the mic.

Ed, already taking off his headset, ready to stand up. But just as Ed moves, they both hear the faint sound of the door unlocking.

"Oh, I think Y/N’s grabbing it, mate," Ed says, blinking in surprise. He relaxes back into his seat for a second before standing up anyway. "I’ll go help her."

"SHES STILL IN MONACO" "i thought she went back to London with Max and P" "omg she's staying with lando" "loool stop reading into it guys ed's also staying with lando. theyre just friends" "my delusions are being fed"

Both Y/N and Ed return, arms full with bags of food and cutlery. Ed drops back into his chair, already digging into his meal, while Y/N pauses beside Lando, holding a box of food in her hands.

"Do you want yours transferred to a plate, or is the box good?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Like that is fine, thank you—oh, I’m streaming, by the way. They can see and hear you," Lando adds with a grin as he takes the box from her.

Y/N barely reacts, too used to this by now. Instead, she casually leans in slightly, scanning the chat as she asks, "Is Max here? Can you tell him to let P know I’ve been trying to call her?"

Lando doesn’t even look away from his screen. "He can hear you—he says sure. You wanna sit here and eat with us?"

She shakes her head, stepping back. "I’m good, got my own thing going on. I’ll see if I can join you guys later if you’re still on. Do you want water or anything?"

Lando glances up at her, smiling. "I’m good, I can grab some myself later."

"You know he’s lying, right?" Ed chimes in, chewing his food. "He’s just gonna wait until you leave so he can ask me to grab it for him."

"Shut up," Lando laughs, shaking his head.

Y/N only smirks knowingly before rolling her eyes. "Alright, whatever you say."

"Okay, okay, go back to doing your thing," Lando says, refocusing on his screen. "Connor’s complaining we’re taking too long."

The chat, meanwhile, is already in shambles.

"She’s literally taking care of him at this point.""Ed exposing Lando is my new favorite thing.""The domestic energy here is sending me."

"What is she up to now? Too busy to play with us?" Max teases as they dive back into the game.

"Nah, mate, she's busy building Legos in the other room," Lando replies casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Max snorts. "Another new hobby? You know she gave us a shit ton of air-dry clay stuff she made that one time. My apartment is literally full of it."

"No, Max, I stepped into the apartment today, and I genuinely thought I was in a Lego store. It’s insane," Ed laughs, shaking his head.

Lando chuckles. "Some of them are mine too, alright? They're not all hers. She’s been building some sets I’ve had lying around for ages."

The chat, of course, goes wild.

"Their apartment is a Lego store. I am crying." "WAIT SO THEY HAVE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER RIGHT??" "Domestic life with Y/N and Lando sounds like a fever dream."

Max just laughs. "Well, tell her to finish up and come scream with us in the Backrooms when she’s done playing with her bricks."

------------------------------------------------------------

Taking Lando's Seat

The stream opens with Lando and Max sitting side by side, each focused on their own PC as they prep for a game of Tarkov. There’s an easy banter in the air, Max teasing Lando about his gear while the two get things set up. But it’s the subtle detail in the background that catches the chat's attention—Lando’s racing rig.

It’s glowing softly in the background, the LED lights creating an almost otherworldly vibe against the dim room.

Max finally glances at the chat, giving a quick nod to thank some of his new subs. But his eyes stop when he spots a few of the comments scrolling by.

Max smirks, leaning into the mic with a grin. "The rig? Oh—it's Y/N. She’s playing F1 right now."

With that, Max casually moves his chair out of the way, revealing Y/N sitting just behind him. She's fully immersed, headset on, brows furrowed in concentration as she steers through a corner on screen, oblivious to the fact that she’s now in full view of the chat.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Lando’s lips as he turns back to look at Y/N, still fully engrossed in the game, unaware that both he and Max are watching her with amusement.

"She's prepping for the season too," Lando continues, keeping his voice casual, though there’s a playful edge to it. "Chat, I think she’s planning on taking my seat—she’s been on there for hours now."

Lando laughs, but the chat immediately picks up on the vibe.

"HE'S JEALOUS, LOOK AT HIM."

"Lando knows he's been replaced."

"Imagine Y/N taking his F1 seat. I’d pay to watch that."

Max, who’s been watching the scene unfold, looks back at Lando with a raised brow. "She’s putting in more practice than you are, mate. Maybe she is taking your seat."

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, though his smile lingers. "Nah, nah, she’s still got a lot to learn... but she’s getting there. I’m just here for moral support."

The chat, of course, has already spirals into chaos.

"Moral support? He’s just trying to hold on to his seat!"

"I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE RACE BETWEEN THEM. WHO’S GONNA WIN??"

"Lando’s literally her biggest fan and her biggest competitor at the same time. I love it."

Y/N, still completely absorbed in the game, lets out a frustrated grunt as she crashes into the wall during a tight turn. "I've fucking crashed—how is AI Lando also a little shit?"

The pair immediately burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. The moment is too perfect—Y/N, so focused on her race, completely unaware she’s been on stream the whole time.

Max wipes away tears, trying to calm down. "What?" Y/N finally takes off her headset after pausing her game, looking around in confusion, only to notice the commotion between the two.

"We’re on Twitch," Max manages between laughs, still struggling to breathe. "They heard you calling Lando a little shit."

Max, still grinning, leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "I mean, I honestly don’t know if you should be more offended by the fact that she just called you a little shit... or the fact that she’s not racing as you."

Lando looks over at Max, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, who are you racing as right now?" His curiosity gets the best of him, and he stands up, walking behind Y/N to peer over her shoulder at her screen.

Y/N barely notices him, still intensely focused on her race. "You’re racing as Max?!" Lando exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "I feel so betrayed!"

Y/N doesn’t respond, grabbing her water bottle beside her, taking a sip.

But Lando’s eyes widen as he looks at her screen again. "Wait, you're were P3?!" he says, his voice rising in shock. "What the fuck, Y/N—this is on 110 difficulty—did you change it?"

"Yeah, well I was but you crashed into me you knob"

Lando's completely taken aback, mouth agape, staring at her settings in awe. Without thinking, he takes over the controls, fully inspecting her game setup. "This is... this is insane. You’re actually doing really well."

Y/N, now realizing the level of chaos happening around her, turns to look at him with a grin. "What? Like its hard?"

Max, who’s been watching this unfold, laughs. "I told you she’d be better than you at this rate. I’m not surprised."

The chat, of course, is losing it.

"SHE'S RACING AS MAX AND BEATING LANDO. WHAT A MOOD."

"Y/N: 1, Lando: 0."

"Lando looks like he’s seen a ghost. How did she do that?"

Y/N just laughs, clearly loving the moment. "I told you, Lando, I’m coming for your seat."

"Alright, we've got to put a screen time limit on you from now on, love—fucking hell," Lando says, still shaking his head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ruffles her hair affectionately before heading back to his seat.

The chat explodes with excitement.

"Lando’s whipped for her. I can’t breathe.""The way he ruffled her hair? That’s the couple energy we’re here for.""Y/N just casually destroying him, and Lando’s still soft with her. I’m obsessed.""I can’t believe they’re just out here living their best life on stream. I’m living for this dynamic."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Gaming Trio

The trio can be seen in Lando’s usual gaming spot, the atmosphere relaxed but buzzing with excitement. In an effort to accommodate everyone, an extra table has been pulled into the room, holding the laptop they’ve set up for Y/N so she can join in on the fun. The new setup feels a little crowded, but it only adds to the chaotic energy that’s been building up since they all logged in.

"Y/N is right behind you!" Max shouts into the mic, pulling the same trick he did to Lando the last time they played Backrooms

"Max, shut up, oh my gosh—NO IT'S CHASING ME, WAIT—PAUSE IT, PAUSE IT!" The panic in Y/N’s voice is unmistakable, and it sends both Lando and Max into fits of laughter.

Max, already losing it, grins widely. "You’re telling me to pause, but I’m the one who’s not controlling it!"

Lando, equally amused, can’t help but tease, hiding comfortably from the monster "Didn’t know you were this scared of a game, love."

Y/N’s frantic clicking can be heard through the mic as she scrambles to escape whatever horror was chasing her in the game. "I can’t— I swear it’s going to catch me!"

A sigh of relief escapes Y/N’s mouth as she finally reaches the room, the monster stopping its chase just in time. “Right, so you two do all the work and I’ll run out when it’s time to escape.”

Max lets out another laugh, clearly amused. “That’s not how it works, Y/N. You've got to carry your weight”

“Come on then, let’s go. Just stay behind me and you’ll be fine.” Lando moves his character closer to hers, ready to lead the way.

Y/N, still a little nervous, responds with a grin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Y/N—darling, it’s fine. It’s not that scary. It’s not gonna jump out at you. You just die and respawn, it’s all good.”

Max joins in, teasing, “Yeah, but if you keep closing your eyes, you’ll miss the whole thing. We’ll be done before you even open them.”

Y/N scoffs but can’t help but laugh, her character hesitating slightly. “I’m not opening them. I’m just here to run when the time comes.”

Lando smiles at her, his voice light. “Alright, well, try not to panic. We’ve got your back.”

The chat erupts in excitement, fans loving the playful back-and-forth between them.

"Y/N’s already planning her escape route. Classic." "he calls her darling im sobbing " "Lando’s trying to act all calm but he’s lowkey making sure she’s okay." "Max is enjoying this way too much, lol."

Lando glances at Y/N with a grin. “Stay close, alright? We’re doing this together.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Y/Ns Instagram Live

Y/N was live on Instagram, chatting with fans while showing off her latest air-dry clay creations. She’d been getting non-stop requests to share her work ever since Max mentioned it in one of his streams, and now here she was, crafting away on camera.

Sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, Y/N focused on the delicate jewelry plate she was shaping. She was giving her followers a detailed look at her process, her hands moving skillfully as she explained what she was doing.

"See, then you build the sides and stick it to the plate part you just made," she said, carefully adding a border to the plate. "So it kinda has a nice little border around it, and that way, you can put your jewelry in the middle without it all rolling off."

"Who you talking to?" A voice, unmistakably Lando's, makes Y/N's head snap up to look at him, her concentration momentarily broken.

Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him standing in the doorway, and she quickly responds, trying to maintain the calm vibe of her live stream. "I'm on Instagram live— you didn’t see my text?" Y/N says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of a warning as she tries to focus on her work again.

Lando, walks into frame to stand beside her, only half his body on screen. “I saw it, but I didn’t think you’d actually be live. What’s going on in here?”

"I'm doing a jewelry plate tutorial, see?" Y/N smiles up at him, gently lifting the plate to show him the progress she’s made, the edges perfectly formed and the design coming together nicely.

Lando leans in a little closer, clearly impressed. "That's actually pretty sick. Have you shown them the other ones you've done?"

"Mhmm," Y/N nods, setting the plate back down on the table and continuing to work on it. "I did earlier. I have a few that are dried, so once I'm done with this one, I'm gonna show them how I paint it."

"Cool, cool," Lando says, grinning as he takes a step back. "I’m actually pretty curious about the painting part."

Y/N shoots him a glance, arching an eyebrow. "You want in on this too?"

Lando looks at her, then at the camera, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Can I join you?"

Y/N pauses for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face. "You gonna try your hand at some clay art, Norris?" she teases, but her tone is warm.

"Gotta try to beat you in something after you've somehow managed to get close to beating me on the racing sim" a smirk on his face as he plops down on the floor beside her "Right what am I meant to do?"

The two sat mostly in silence, both deeply immersed in their work. Y/N’s focus was on finishing her jewelry plate, the soft clink of clay against the table the only sound as she shaped it carefully. Lando, on the other hand, was determined to paint one of the already dried plate, though it was clear his attention was divided between the task and watching Y/N work.

"Oh, I’ve messed up, bub," Lando admitted, his voice a little defeated. "I’m sorry, this looks horrific. I think I’ve ruined it." He leaned back dramatically, letting his shoulders slump as he rested his back against the foot of the sofa, casting an apologetic look her way. "This is a disaster."

"What? No! It's cute—you even painted flowers on it, it's nice!" Y/N exclaimed, her tone playful as she tried to hype him up, a grin tugging at her lips.

Lando looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Those are strawberries, you muppet," he said, laughing as he gently nudged her with his elbow, clearly not buying her attempt to boost his confidence.

Y/N burst out laughing, her hands up in surrender. "Oh, I'm only kidding! Of course they're strawberries," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She quickly mouthed a playful I didn’t know to the camera as Lando became distracted with his painting again, a smirk creeping up on her face as she watched him carefully work on his next stroke.

"add bub to the list of names lando calls y/n" "theyre actually so cute im going insane" "not y/n gentle parenting lando" "im telling my therapist about this" --------------------------------------------------

I'm telling mom

Max’s loud voice cut through the quiet apartment, shattering the late-night calm. It was already past 10 PM, and he’d been streaming for over two hours, fully immersed in whatever chaos his Twitch chat had cooked up for him.

“Y/N! Get in here a sec!” Max’s voice carried from his gaming room, loud enough to startle Y/N from where she sat beside P, half-watching a Netflix show.

With a sigh, she got up, padding toward his room. She hesitated at the door, peeking inside carefully, mindful of the camera that might be angled her way.

“It’s almost 11 PM, Max. What the fuck are you yelling about?” she laughed, eyes landing on him. He stood in the middle of the room, VR headset strapped on, controllers gripped tightly like his life depended on it. "You look ridiculous by the way"

“Can you call Lando? He’s fucking with me,” Max huffed, shifting on his feet like he was bracing for something. “He told me to download this horror VR game, and now he’s in chat claiming he’s in bed. I swear to God—he set me up.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Y/N started, arms crossed. “You want me to call Lando—”

“Yep.”

“—to ask him to get out of bed and play a game with you—”

“Mhm.”

“—instead of letting him sleep, because it’s nearly midnight in Monaco?”

“Exactly.” Max stood firm, pointing a VR controller at her like this was a life-or-death situation.

Y/N blinked. “Oh, you’re serious—right.” She sighed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, already dialing.

“I swear, if he doesn’t hop on after I’ve set this up and put my contacts in—”

“Lan, you’re on speaker,” Y/N announced the second he picked up, barely giving him a chance to breathe.

Before Lando could even say hello, Max exploded. “You muppet! I’ve been standing here waiting for you for the past ten minutes!”

“Oh, piss off! I’ve been waiting for you for nearly an hour, Max! Can’t believe you actually made Y/N call me for this.”

“You weren’t picking up my calls!”

Y/N let out a slow, tired sigh and turned to the camera with a deadpan look, the exact kind of exhausted stare straight out of The Office.

“So you tell on me?! How mature,” Lando huffs

“Just hop on the game!” Max shot back, exasperated.

“This behaviour at 25 is diabolical,” Y/N muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

Through the speaker, you could hear Lando moving around. “Fine, fine! Okay, I’m on,” Lando said, voice muffled as he adjusted his setup. “Max, hurry up—I’ll send Y/N the code. Love, show him the code before you leave.”

Y/N sighed, holding up her phone as she walked over to Max. “Right. I’ve been dragged from my peaceful night just to moderate a sibling fight.”

Max squinted at the screen. “Got it. Thanks, Mom—right, I’m joining. You can leave now.” He was already fumbling with the game settings, barely paying her any attention.

Y/N rolled her eyes as Lando’s voice softened on the phone. “I’ll call you later, alright? Go watch your show with P. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N hummed in response, finally making her escape.

As soon as she was gone, Max turned back to chat, shaking his head. “Right, let’s go. See? He’s such a knob—I have to call Y/N every time he’s being an ass because he actually listens to her.”

The chat was loving this interaction

"Y/N staying with Max and P is actually so wholesome" "NOT Y/N BEING MOM" "LANDO LISTENING TO Y/N ONLY IS PEAK BF BEHAVIOUR U CANT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE" " "i'll call you later" is so cute he's down bad for her"

--------------------------------------------------

Big Reveal

At this point, they’d practically exposed themselves. The subtle interactions hadn’t gone unnoticed—small moments that seemed insignificant alone but painted a clear picture together. The lingering looks, the casual slips of affectionate nicknames, the way their conversations always carried a certain ease.

Everyone had a general understanding that the two were a couple, but they’d come to accept that Lando and Y/N weren’t quite ready to make it official—at least, not publicly. But what really sealed the deal? Max’s most recent stream, just before the season kicked off.

“Right, chat, Lando and I are finishing up the download, and we’ll hop on as soon as it’s done,” Max said, scrolling through chat and tossing out quick thanks for subs and gifted memberships while they waited.

“Is anyone else joining us or nah?” Lando asked, finally looking up from his phone where he sat beside Max, his own setup in front of him.

“Nah, don’t think so. Connor just texted—he’s out,” Max replied, making Lando nod before going back to whatever he was scrolling through.

“Chat, I’ll be back—I’m gonna grab some water,” Max announced, tapping his mic to mute it before standing up.

Completely unaware, Lando reached over and tapped the mic again, turning it back on.

“Baby?! C’mere a sec!” Lando called out, sitting with his back to the camera, casually waiting for someone to walk in—completely oblivious to the absolute chaos erupting behind him.

“OH BOB, YOU’RE NOT MUTED!!” “HES HOPELESS.” “NOOOOOOO LN TURN AROUND!!!” “HE FULLY EXPOSED HIMSELF IM CRYING.” "baby??!"

A moment later, Y/N appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Hello my pretty girl, wanna come join Max and I?" “Aren’t you live with Max right now?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, I muted it—don’t worry,” Lando reassured her without a second thought. “Wanna join? Max is still downloading it, we can set yours up if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go grab the laptop.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Max walked back in, settling into his chair. “What were you two chatting about?” he asked as he put his headset back on.

“Y/N’s gonna play with us,” Lando answered smoothly. “Oh—by the way, I muted your mic. Chat can’t hear you right now.”

Max blinked. “Well, yeah, I muted it before I left—” His head snapped toward Lando. “Did you fucking tap the mic again?”

Lando visibly paled. “…No, I muted it.”

Max hurriedly glanced at chat, eyes scanning the messages flooding in before exhaling sharply. “You fucking unmuted it, you idiot.”

Lando sat there, frozen. Then, with an almost comically slow realization, he sighed. “Damn… well. Secrets out.”

Y/N practically skipped into the room, excitement clear in the way she carried her laptop against her chest. But the moment she stopped behind the two, her smile faltered.

Max and Lando both looked at her with identical guilty expressions.

“…What?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Your dimwit of a boyfriend just exposed you two. He unmuted the mic.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “No...”

Lando was already reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swore I muted it.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand down her face. “Oh my God. How bad?”

Max snorted, scrolling through chat. “Let’s see… ‘We’re witnessing a live trainwreck,’ 'my pretty girl', ‘Bruh did he just expose himself?’ ‘Send help, I can’t breathe,’ and—oh, this one’s gold—‘My parents are finally public.’

Lando groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s side. “This is your fault, Max.”

“My fault?! You tapped the damn mic!”

The two went back and forth, bickering like a couple of siblings, while Y/N just stood there, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Oh, Y/N, come on. Don’t worry. It’s not like it’s a big surprise. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either.”

“Yeah, but until now, it was all just rumors and whispers.”

Lando shot her a reassuring smile. “Aww, baby, it’s fine. They love you, you know.”

Max groaned, leaning back in his chair and teasing them both. “See? Now he’s gonna go full PDA mode, more than he already does. We’re all doomed.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I swear, I can already see it.”

Lando reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Max teased, rolling his eyes. “Just wait till he starts calling you ‘babe’ every two seconds on stream.”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You love it, Max. Admit it.”

Max shot him a playful glare. “I’m really starting to think I’ve been cursed.”

“Right, come on then, let’s play before I get called for an impromptu PR meeting,” Lando chuckled, giving Y/N a wink as he pulled his headset on.

6K notes · View notes

gyuuberryy · 16 days ago

Text

don't look back!

pairing: yandere!jungwon x reader

genre: backrooms au, thriller, psycho!jungwon

synopsis: while working late at the waterpark, you slip through reality and fall into the nightmare realm known as the backrooms. you think you’re alone—until you meet jungwon, a charming boy who offers comfort, survival tips, and the promise of an escape together. but something about him doesn’t feel right. the more time you spend together, the more his affection turns eerie... and the deeper you fall into his trap.

warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut(corruption kink, oral f receiving, fingering, mild marking/biting, unprotected sex), yandere themes, obsession, slight horror themes, manipulation, slight dub con, choking, some degradation, dom!jungwon, swearing, not proofread

note: this is probably my darkest work, and also my first time writing smut!! i hope you like it >///<

word count: 10.3k

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

you had been working late at the waterpark again, the last employee left on closing duty.

the usual nighttime sounds surrounded you—the steady drip of water from the slides, the faint hum of the filtration system powering down, the occasional creak of the structure settling. it was peaceful in a way, being alone in the empty park after hours, though tonight the silence felt heavier than usual.

you pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself as you walked past the wave pool, the water still and dark now that the pumps were off. your sneakers squeaked against the wet tiles, the sound echoing strangely in the vast, empty space.

as you moved toward the tower of spiral slides to complete your final check, you couldn't shake the feeling that the air had grown colder, thicker somehow.

that was when you heard the first laugh—a high-pitched, playful sound that seemed to come from the top of the blue slide.

you froze, your grip tightening on the flashlight. that couldn't be right. you'd checked every area twice already, made certain no guests remained. the park was supposed to be empty.

"hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the sudden chill running down your spine. "the park is closed."

there was no response at first, just the continued dripping of water and that odd, heavy silence.

you were about to dismiss it as your imagination when the laughter came again, closer this time, seeming to bounce off the fibreglass walls of the slides.

your pulse quickened as you approached the staircase leading up to the slide platform. the metal steps were slick with condensation under your hands as you climbed, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.

"if someone's up here, you need to leave now," you said, forcing authority into your voice even as your palms grew damp.

when you reached the top, the mouth of the slide gaped before you, a circle of darkness that seemed deeper than it should be. you crouched to shine your light down its length, expecting to see nothing but empty plastic. instead, there was movement—something pale flickering at the edge of your vision.

before you could react, the world twisted around you. it wasn't wind that pulled at you, but something far more unnatural. the slide's opening seemed to stretch, the darkness within it suddenly alive and hungry. you tried to scramble back, but your feet slipped on the wet platform.

as you fell forward, you realised this wasn't just a slide anymore. the walls pressed in around you, warm and yielding like flesh, the air thick with the cloying scent of chlorine and something decaying. you flailed, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing to grab onto as you tumbled through that impossible space.

then there was only nothingness.

the impact knocked the air from your lungs before you even realised you'd stopped falling. your elbows stung where they'd slammed against the tile, your ribs aching like you'd been folded in half.

for several terrifying seconds you just lay there, gasping, your vision swimming as you tried to remember how to breathe. when you finally managed to push yourself up, your hands slipped on the damp floor—not the smooth fibreglass of the slide, but something older and cracked that felt wrong.

the slide was gone.

you whirled around, panic rising like floodwater in your chest, but there was only a wall behind you—water-stained wallpaper peeling away to reveal moldering drywall beneath. the cheerful cartoon dolphins printed on it were faded, their smiles stretched and warped where the paper bubbled.

your breath came in short, sharp bursts as you staggered to your feet, the room tilting dangerously around you. this wasn't possible. you'd just been at work. you'd just been checking the slides.

the space around you stretched endlessly in every direction, a nightmare parody of the waterpark you knew. the same blue-and-yellow colour scheme, but bleached and sickly under flickering fluorescents. the wave pools were empty except for stagnant puddles that reflected the ceiling back at you in distorted fragments. the air clung to your skin, thick with the scent of mildew and that same overpowering chlorine sting—but underneath it, something sweet. cloying. like fruit left to rot in standing water.

"hello?" your voice cracked on the word, barely louder than a whisper.

when no answer came, you tried again, louder: "is anyone here?" the sound died almost instantly, as if the humid air had swallowed it whole.

you moved forward without meaning to, your sneakers sticking slightly to the tacky floor with each step. the lights buzzed overhead, their flickering intensifying as you passed beneath them. down one hallway lined with lockers rusted shut, past another shallow pool that had no visible edge—just tile that stretched on until it blurred into the distance. your fingers trailed along the wall for balance, coming away damp.

a sound from above made you freeze. not the creak of old pipes, but something... wetter. like flesh dragging across metal. you didn't look up. couldn't look up. your pulse roared in your ears as you forced yourself to keep moving, your breath coming too fast.

in the reflection of a murky puddle, you saw something move behind you—a pale shape where nothing should be. when you spun around, there was only an empty hallway. but the puddle rippled, as if whatever had been there had just stepped out of view.

you broke into a run.

the corridors twisted in ways that made no sense, leading you past the same cracked mirror three times, past a snack stand with its menu board melted like wax. your lungs burned, your thighs aching, but you didn't stop until you reached a small kiddie pool tucked between two crumbling walls. its cheerful mosaic tiles were chipped and faded, the painted sea creatures now just vague smudges of colour. you collapsed beside it, pressing your back against the wall as you struggled to catch your breath.

that was when you heard the whistling.

low. off-key. a tune you almost recognised but couldn't place. your blood turned to ice in your veins.

the sound was getting closer.

you scrambled behind a rusted lifeguard chair, its paint flaking away under your desperate grip.

the whistling continued, unhurried, accompanied now by the steady tap of footsteps against tile. a shadow stretched long across the floor before its owner appeared—a boy, maybe your age, dressed in a staff polo that looked freshly laundered. his black hair was neatly styled, his sneakers pristine where yours were soaked. the name tag on his chest caught the light when he moved, but the letters swam when you tried to focus on them.

he saw you immediately. of course he did.

"there you are," he said, as if you'd been keeping him waiting. his voice was pleasant, almost friendly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. they stayed dark and unreadable as he took a step closer.

"it's not safe to be out alone."

you pressed yourself harder against the wall, your mouth dry. he looked human. normal. but nothing here was normal.

when he extended his hand, his fingers were clean. no dirt under his nails. no dampness on his skin.

"come on," he urged, tilting his head slightly. "before they find you."

above you, the lights flickered again. somewhere in the distance, something heavy dragged itself through water.

his smile never wavered.

your fingers twitched before you even realised you were reaching for him—some primal part of your brain screaming that warmth meant safety, that another human voice in this suffocating silence was worth clinging to, no matter how wrong this all felt.

his hand closed around yours without hesitation, his skin almost feverishly hot compared to the clammy chill clinging to your own.

"i'm jungwon," he said, pulling you to your feet with unsettling ease, like your weight meant nothing.

his fingers lingered a second too long when he let go, leaving behind a tingling imprint that made you want to rub your palm against your jeans.

"you're lucky i found you first."

the words slithered under your skin. first before who? before what?

he was already moving, his steps light and certain against the warped tiles as he led you down another decaying hallway. you followed because there was no other choice, your sneakers squeaking against the damp floor while his made no sound at all.

when you opened your mouth to speak, your voice came out cracked and thin: "where—"

"this place doesn't have a name," he interrupted, glancing back with a smile that didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes. "not one you'd understand."

his gaze flickered over your face, lingering on the way you bit your lip, the rapid flutter of your pulse in your throat.

"i call it the aquatic sector."

your breath hitched. the backrooms. those creepy internet stories you'd skimmed late at night, half-believing, half-mocking.

"like... the backrooms?" you whispered, the word tasting absurd even as it left your tongue.

jungwon's smile didn’t waver, "something like that." he said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather, and the sheer normality of his tone made your stomach twist.

he turned a corner without checking if you followed—of course you did, where else would you go?—and you realised with a jolt that he knew this place. the way his shoulders never tensed at the distant, wet sounds echoing through the pipes. the way he stepped over a particular cracked tile without looking down, avoiding the dark stain spreading beneath it like he’d done it a hundred times before.

when he finally pushed open a door marked staff only, the room beyond was so jarringly intact it made your eyes water. clean towels stacked neatly on a shelf. unopened cans of fruit lined up in a tiny pantry. a battery-powered lantern cast warm light over a faded couch, its cushions dented from use. it looked like a lifeguard break room plucked straight from your own world and dropped here, untouched by the decay choking everything outside.

"this zone's safe," jungwon said, watching your face as you took it in. he grabbed a water bottle from the cabinet and held it out to you, the plastic crinkling in his grip. "but only for now."

your fingers trembled as you took it, the condensation cool against your palm. you wanted to drink so badly your throat ached with it, but the way he watched you—head slightly tilted, dark eyes tracking the bob of your throat as you swallowed nervously—made your grip tighten without opening it.

something about the way his smile didn't reach his eyes, about how his uniform was still perfectly dry when your clothes clung damp and clammy to your skin, about how he'd known exactly where to find you in this endless maze.

"you should drink," he said, softer now.

he took a step closer and you could smell the faint citrus of his shampoo, so out of place here it made your pulse skip.

"you'll get dehydrated fast in this sector."

his fingers brushed yours as he reached to twist the cap off for you, and for a dizzying second you considered letting him. his touch was the only warm thing in this entire place. but then the pipes above you groaned, a wet, meaty sound that had you jerking back, the water bottle slipping from your grip to roll across the floor.

jungwon's expression darkened for just a second—a flicker of something sharp behind his pleasant mask—before he sighed and crouched to retrieve it.

"you'll learn," he said, more to himself than to you as he placed the bottle carefully on the table.

outside, something heavy splashed into one of the pools, the sound echoing through the thin walls. when you tensed, jungwon's hand settled between your shoulder blades, warm even through your damp hoodie.

"don't worry," he murmured, his breath stirring your hair. "i won't let anything hurt you."

the promise should have been comforting. so why did it feel like a threat?

time bent around you like wet paper, the hours stretching and warping until you couldn’t tell if minutes or days had passed.

jungwon became your only constant, your lifeline in this rotting, endless maze. he told you where to sleep (the staff break room, always with the door locked), when to hide (when the lights flickered in a pattern that wasn’t random), which corridors to avoid (the ones with the faint smell of overripe bananas). but he never explained why.

"don’t follow the laughter," he said one evening, or what you thought was evening, as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of the break room, sharing a can of peaches.

the syrup was too sweet, clinging to your teeth, but you ate it anyway because hunger gnawed at your stomach like a living thing.

you frowned. "what laughter?"

jungwon’s fingers paused where they’d been tracing patterns on the tile floor. he didn’t look up.

"you’ll know it when you hear it. it sounds almost human. almost." his voice dropped on the last word, and something in his tone made you set the can down, your appetite gone.

"that’s not an answer," you muttered.

he finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. "it’s the only one i can give you."

you wanted to push, to demand more, but then the walls breathed—a slow, wet expansion of the water-damaged drywall that made you recoil. jungwon didn’t even flinch.

"also," he continued, as if nothing had happened, "don’t trust water that moves on its own. and never, never go into a glowing slide."

"why not?"

he leaned forward suddenly, close enough that you could see the faint scar on his lower lip, the way his pupils swallowed the dim light.

"because some doors only open one way," he whispered. then he pulled back, his smile returning like a curtain falling.

"eat your peaches."

you noticed things, over time. the way the walls never dripped when jungwon was near, how the flickering fluorescents steadied when he walked beneath them, as if they were afraid to sputter out in his presence. you noticed how he watched you—constantly—his gaze lingering on the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how your fingers trembled when you were tired.

and then you found the notebook.

it was tucked under his pillow, the leather cover worn soft. you hadn’t meant to snoop, but he’d been gone longer than usual (to "check the perimeter," whatever that meant), and the silence had pressed in on you until you needed something to focus on besides the sound of your own heartbeat.

the first page was a sketch of your face, rendered in startling detail. your lips slightly parted in sleep, your eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks. you turned the page.

another. another. dozens of drawings, all of you—your hands clutching a blanket, your back arched in alarm when something had banged on the door the night before, your tear-streaked cheeks from when you’d broken down sobbing your third day here.

your breath caught.

"you’re beautiful when you’re afraid."

you hadn’t heard him come in. jungwon stood in the doorway, his head tilted, his expression unreadable. your fingers clenched around the notebook, the paper crinkling under your grip.

he stepped closer, his movements smooth and predatory.

"just kidding," he murmured, but his eyes—dark and endless—never left yours.

he pried the notebook from your hands with terrifying gentleness, his thumb brushing over a sketch of your crying face. "you’re beautiful all the time."

the air between you thickened, the silence broken only by the distant sound of something heavy dragging itself through water. jungwon didn’t seem to hear it. his gaze burned into you, possessive and hungry, and for the first time, you realised the most dangerous thing in this place wasn’t the shifting halls or the things that lurked in the water.

it was the boy standing in front of you, smiling like he already knew every way you’d break.

the air in the filtration room had been particularly thick that day, clinging to your skin like a second layer of sweat as you followed jungwon through yet another routine patrol.

you'd memorised the path by now—past the cracked wave pool tiles, left at the concession stand with its permanently stuck "hot dogs $3.99" sign, right at the third set of rusted lockers.

his flashlight beam cut through the perpetual twilight, illuminating dust motes that swirled like tiny galaxies in the stale air.

"wait here," jungwon said suddenly, his hand squeezing your wrist just a bit too tight before releasing.

the filtration tunnel gaped before you both, its mouth dark and damp.

"i need to check something. don't move." his smile didn't reach his eyes as he said it, the way it never did anymore.

you nodded, forcing your breathing to stay even as you watched him disappear into the tunnel. the moment his light vanished around the first bend, your body thrummed with nervous energy. this was it. you'd been watching for weeks, noting which corridors made him tense, which doors he always locked extra carefully. the copper-scented hallway to your right had been his most consistent avoidance.

the first step away from the tunnel entrance sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. your sneakers made barely a sound against the slick tiles, your movements practised after so many days of following his lead through these endless halls. the chlorine-copper smell grew stronger with each step, so potent it made your eyes water and your tongue feel coated in pennies.

halfway down the corridor, your foot caught on something soft. you barely stifled a scream as you looked down to see what appeared to be a waterlogged park uniform, the fabric bloated and discoloured. something about the way it lay—too flat, too empty—made your stomach turn. you stepped over it carefully, your pulse pounding in your ears.

the maintenance ladder appeared like a mirage, its rusted rungs nearly blending into the water-stained wall. you tested the first step with your weight, wincing as the metal groaned in protest. every creak seemed deafening in the silent hallway. as you climbed, the air grew noticeably colder, each breath forming visible clouds that dissipated into the gloom above you.

at the top, the platform was smaller than you expected, barely three feet across. the glowing slide pulsed before you, its eerie green light casting strange shadows across your trembling hands. up close, the hum you'd noticed from below vibrated through your teeth, setting your nerves on edge.

you hesitated, one hand hovering over the slide's entrance. jungwon's warning echoed in your mind, but so did the memory of his sketches, the way his fingers lingered just a beat too long when he touched you. the way he'd started saying "we" instead of "you" when talking about the future.

the decision crystallised in an instant. you launched yourself forward, the slide's surface shockingly cold even through your clothes. for one glorious moment, you felt weightless, the current carrying you forward with exhilarating speed.

then the world twisted.

the temperature plummeted so fast your muscles locked in protest. the smooth tunnel contorted violently, the walls rippling like disturbed water before going rigid at impossible angles. your scream caught in your throat as you were flung sideways, then upside down, the laws of physics abandoning you completely.

when you finally crashed into a brackish pool, the impact drove what little air remained from your lungs. the water tasted foul—salt and something organic, something living. you thrashed toward the surface, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and terror.

breaking through into the air brought no relief. the cavernous room stretched endlessly in every direction, the ceiling lost in shadow. the pool's edges weren't tile but something porous and veined, pulsing faintly in time with your racing heartbeat.

then you saw him.

jungwon stood perfectly still at the water's edge, his clothes soaked through as if he'd swum through miles of tunnels to reach you. water dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn't blink. the quiet rage radiating from him was more terrifying than any monster this place could have conjured.

"didn't i say," he began, his voice deceptively soft as he stepped into the pool, "not to trust glowing slides?" each word carried the weight of betrayal, his hands flexing at his sides.

the water resisted as you tried to back away, its viscosity suddenly wrong - too thick, too clinging. jungwon closed the distance effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around your biceps with bruising force as he hauled you onto the slick ground.

your body hit the floor with a wet slap, the impact reverberating through your bones. jungwon loomed over you, his knees caging your hips, his breath coming in sharp bursts that fogged in the frigid air. up close, you could see the way his pupils had swallowed nearly all the brown in his eyes, leaving only thin rings of colour around bottomless black.

"you could have died," he hissed, his voice cracking on the last word.

one hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over your cheekbone.

"do you have any idea what's out there? what would have happened if i hadn't found you?"

tears spilled hot down your cheeks, the salt taste mixing with the brackish water still dripping from your hair.

"i just wanted to go home," you choked out, your voice barely audible over the distant, watery echoes of the cavern.

jungwon's expression fractured. he pressed his forehead to yours, his nose brushing against your tear-streaked skin.

"this is your home," he whispered, the words vibrating through your skull. "i'm your home."

his grip gentled as he pulled you upright, his arms wrapping around your shivering form in a mockery of comfort. one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"don't ever do that again," he murmured, his lips grazing your temple. the kiss felt like a brand.

"next time..." his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly in your hair. "next time i might not be able to save you."

the unspoken threat hung between you, heavier than the humid air, darker than the endless corridors stretching in every direction. as he helped you to your feet, his arm slung possessively around your waist, you realised with dawning horror that you'd just proven his worst fear.

and in doing so, you'd given him the perfect excuse to never let you out of his sight again.

that night, something inside you finally cracked open—not with the sharp snap of defiance, but with the slow, inevitable splintering of resistance worn down by exhaustion and something dangerously close to surrender.

you sat shivering on the edge of his mattress, the damp fabric of your clothes clinging to your goosebumped skin like a second layer of shame. the scent of chlorine still clung to your hair, undercut by something darker—something organic and vaguely sweet, like fruit left to rot in standing water, which seemed like a recirring scent in this place.

jungwon knelt before you, a threadbare towel in his hands, his movements methodical as he dragged the rough fabric up your calf. the friction should have warmed you, but you only felt colder with each pass, your skin pebbling under his touch.

"you never listen," he whispered, his voice almost affectionate, the way one might scold a beloved but wayward pet.

his fingers tightened slightly around your ankle—not enough to hurt, just enough to make the bones shift under his grip.

"do you know how many rules you broke today?" his thumb pressed into the hollow beneath your ankle bone, a silent demand for your attention.

you swallowed hard, your throat clicking with the motion. "i just—"

"shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. his skin tasted like salt and metal. "i know what you were trying to do. but we don't lie to each other, do we?"

his hand slid higher up your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, just shy of bruising. "say it."

your breath hitched. "no. we don't lie."

"good girl." the praise curled warm in your stomach despite everything.

his thumb hooked into the waistband of your soaked shorts, tugging them down your legs with agonising slowness.

"i should punish you," he mused, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he pressed a kiss there, "but you look so pathetic like this."

his teeth grazed your skin—not biting, just testing. "all shivering and wide-eyed. like a drowned kitten."

you should have stopped him. should have pushed him away. but your hands stayed limp at your sides, fingers twitching against the mattress as he pulled you closer to the edge, his grip firm on your hips.

"jungwon—"

"tell me you're sorry," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the crease of your thigh.

your pulse pounded in your ears. "i'm sorry."

"for what, exactly?" his tongue darted out to taste you, just once, making your stomach clench.

"for—for trying to leave." the admission tasted bitter on your tongue.

he hummed, the vibration travelling straight to your core. "and?"

"for not listening." your voice broke on the last word.

his mouth found you then, soft at first—just the barest flick of his tongue that made your toes curl. then deeper, firmer, until you couldn't stifle the gasp that tore from your throat. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers twisting into the sheets as he worked you open with his tongue, each lick sending sparks up your spine.

"that's better," he murmured against you, the vibrations making your hips jerk.

"this is what you need, isn't it? to be reminded?" his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as his tongue circled your clit with devastating precision. "to be taken care of?"

you couldn't answer. your thoughts had dissolved into static, your body no longer your own. when you whimpered his name, he hummed in approval, the sound curling low in your belly.

"use your words, sweetheart." his breath was hot against your soaked skin. "tell me what you want."

"please—"

"please what?" he nipped at your inner thigh, just hard enough to sting. "you have to say it."

your vision blurred at the edges. "please don't stop."

he rewarded you immediately, his tongue laving over you in broad strokes before he pressed two fingers inside, curling them expertly until your walls fluttered around him.

"like that?" he asked, his voice rough. "you want me to make you cum? to remind you who you belong to?"

you nodded frantically, your hips rocking against his hand.

"say it." his fingers stilled inside you, denying you the friction you craved. "say you're mine."

the words stuck in your throat for only a second before you choked them out: "i'm yours."

he crooked his fingers just right, the heel of his palm grinding against you in time with each thrust, and you shattered—your back arching off the mattress, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure ripped through you like a riptide.

he kissed you after, his lips tasting of you, his grip bruising on your jaw as he held you in place.

"you're mine," he said again, his voice rough, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown of his eyes.

"no one else gets to have you. not even reality."

his words settled into your bones like a curse. you wanted to protest. wanted to tell him you belonged to yourself, that this place wasn't your home, that you would find a way out. but when he pulled you against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you didn't resist. and when his fingers traced idle patterns over your hip—claiming and possessive—you let him.

because the worst part wasn't the way he touched you.

it was the way your body arched into his hand when he reached for you again.

the way your breath caught when he whispered, "again."

the way you obeyed.

after that night, the invisible leash around your throat pulled taut like a noose gradually tightening. jungwon became your shadow, your keeper, your only tether to anything resembling safety in this rotting labyrinth.

when he did leave—always with that same murmured excuse about "checking the perimeter"—the backrooms seemed to come alive with malicious intent. the first time it happened, you sat perfectly still for exactly three minutes after he left, counting each second by the erratic drip of water from a ceiling pipe.

then the lights began stuttering like a dying man's pulse.

"jungwon?" you called out, immediately hating how small your voice sounded.

the hallway ahead warped suddenly, the tiles rippling like water disturbed by some unseen force. when you turned to run back to the break room, the door you'd just come through was gone—replaced by a staircase that definitely hadn't been there before, its steps slick with something dark and viscous.

"no, no, no," you chanted under your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the staircase shifted again, the top step now leading to a ceiling vent far too small for any human to crawl through.

that was when you heard it—a wet, clicking sound from the darkness beneath the stairs, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of overripe bananas and something metallic. your stomach turned as the clicking grew louder, more rhythmic, like dozens of tiny bones knocking together.

jungwon found you exactly seven minutes later curled behind a stack of mouldy pool noodles, your nails digging bloody crescents into your palms.

"i told you not to wander," he sighed, crouching before you.

his fingers were warm when they pried yours open, his thumbs rubbing circles into your clenched fists.

"what did you see?"

"the stairs—they moved," you gasped, still trembling. "and there was something under—"

"shhh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips.

his eyes darted to the hallway behind you, suddenly sharp. "don't say it out loud. this place listens."

he helped you stand, his arm slipping around your waist in a way that might have been comforting if not for how easily his fingers spanned nearly the entire width of your torso. "let's get you cleaned up."

you tried to assert yourself exactly once, three days later.

it started as a simple request—"i need space"—but the words came out cracked and brittle, like you were begging rather than demanding.

jungwon paused in the middle of rewrapping your blistered foot (when had you gotten blisters?), his head tilting in that unnervingly precise way of his.

"space?" he repeated, the word curling oddly in his mouth.

his smile bloomed slow and sweet, like blood spreading through water. "oh, sweetheart. there's nothing but space here."

his fingers brushed your ankle, trailing upward with deliberate slowness.

"endless, hungry space." when his hand reached your knee, he squeezed just enough to make your breath hitch. "i'm just protecting you."

you swallowed hard. "from what?"

jungwon leaned in so close his lips brushed your ear, his next words a warm puff of air that made you shiver.

"from what happens to pretty things that get lost in the dark."

he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours.

"this place listens to me. you don't want to hear what it says about you when i'm gone." his thumb traced your lower lip. "the way it licks its chops every time you stumble. the way the walls whisper about how sweet you'd taste."

that night, you woke abruptly to the feeling of something cool and padded encircling your wrists. your eyes flew open to find yourself in jungwon's lap, your arms secured to the bench with what looked like salvaged lifeguard rescue tubes—the orange foam frayed but still sturdy.

"w-what—" you stammered, panic surging as you tugged against the restraints.

"shhh, just for your safety," jungwon soothed, his fingers already carding through your hair. the casual ease with which he held you down sent ice through your veins.

"you were thrashing in your sleep again. nearly rolled right off the bench." he held up a can of peaches, the syrup glistening in the low light. "let's get some food in you, yeah?"

when you turned your head away, his grip tightened fractionally in your hair.

"now, now," he chided, popping the lid with a metallic snick. "none of that."

the first syrupy slice pressed against your lips was cold and cloying. "open."

the fight drained out of you with terrifying speed. by the third bite, you were chewing mechanically, the sweetness coating your tongue like medicine. jungwon's approving hum vibrated through you as he wiped a stray drop of syrup from your chin with his thumb—then sucked it clean with a soft, satisfied sound.

"good girl," he murmured, kissing each of your knuckles in turn. the shackles stayed on all night.

as the days bled together, resistance became a distant memory, as foreign as sunlight or fresh air.

his touches became your only constants—the steadying hand at your elbow when the floor suddenly slanted, the broad palm spanning your back when a corridor narrowed unexpectedly, the strong arms that lifted you effortlessly over patches of suspicious-looking water. in the hot pool (the one oasis in this rotting place, its waters always perfectly clear and heated), he would wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as the steam curled around you both.

"feel good?" he'd murmur, his hands drifting along your arms beneath the water.

you'd nod silently, too tired to lie or protest. his heartbeat against your back was the only rhythm left in this place, the only thing that still made sense.

the backrooms themselves seemed to worship him. puddles stilled when he approached, their surfaces going eerily smooth. hallways straightened obediently at his approach.

once, when you caught your reflection in the pool's surface, it grinned at you—wide and knowing—even as your own face remained carefully blank. when you jerked back with a gasp, jungwon just tightened his arms around you.

"just a trick of the light," he murmured, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.

the question burned in your chest for days before you finally found the courage to whisper it one night: "what are you?"

jungwon went very still, his fingers pausing where they'd been tracing nonsense patterns on your bare shoulder. for a long moment, the only sound was the distant drip of water and your own too-quick breathing.

"i used to be like you," he said at last, his voice soft with something almost like regret. "scared. lost. convinced there was a way out."

his hand returned to your shoulder, his thumb brushing the knob of your collarbone. "then i stopped pretending to be afraid. stopped fighting what this place wanted from me."

his lips grazed your temple, lingering just a second too long. "you'll understand soon."

the promise should have terrified you. should have sent you scrambling for escape. instead, a warm heaviness settled in your chest, spreading through your limbs like syrup. when he pulled you closer, you went without resistance, your head finding its familiar place against his shoulder.

outside your fragile bubble of warmth, the backrooms groaned and shifted—but here, cradled in jungwon's arms, the world held its breath. you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into something like peace.

somewhere along the way, you'd forgotten how to fight.

somewhere deeper still, you'd stopped wanting to.

it had been weeks—or maybe months, you had no idea how the warped time her worked—since jungwon had let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.

you'd practised the request of wanting to sleep alone in your head for days, carefully framing it as concern for his own rest rather than your desperate need for space.

"you look tired," you ventured one evening as he rubbed your sore feet (when had you started letting him do that?).

your fingers played with the frayed edge of his sleeve, the fabric soft from countless washes in the pool's filtration runoff.

"maybe... maybe you should take a night for yourself. i'll be fine here."

jungwon's hands stilled on your instep. the silence stretched so long you could hear the drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling vent counting out your racing heartbeat.

when he finally looked up, his smile didn't reach his eyes—those dark, fathomless eyes that always seemed to see straight through you.

"one night," he conceded, his thumb brushing the delicate bones of your ankle. the casual possession in that simple touch made your stomach clench.

"but scream if you need me." his fingers trailed up your calf, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "the walls carry sound beautifully here."

he left you in a small bunkroom near the filtration systems, the space eerily pristine compared to the decay everywhere else. thick blankets covered the narrow bed, their faded nautical patterns almost cheerful under the glow of luminous pool tiles embedded beneath the frame.

you waited until his footsteps faded completely before letting out the breath you'd been holding.

the second the door clicked shut, the air grew heavier, pressing against your skin like wet hands. you told yourself you wouldn't sleep—just rest your eyes until morning came, whatever that meant in this endless place. curling up on the bed, you pulled your knees to your chest and stared at the door, straining to hear anything beyond the ever-present hum of machinery.

every sound became magnified in his absence. the walls creaked like old ship hulls, the pipes groaned with more than just water pressure, and every distant droplet echoed like approaching footsteps. at one point, you swore you heard whispering—not words exactly, but something like the hiss of water through cracks, forming almost-syllables that prickled the hairs on your neck.

"it's just the pipes," you muttered to yourself, your voice thin and unconvincing in the heavy air.

pulling the blankets over your head, you tried to focus on your breathing, but the fabric stuck to your lips with each panicked exhale.

when the bed suddenly shifted beneath you—just a slight dip, like someone had sat at the foot—you nearly screamed. your muscles locked, every nerve ending alight with primal terror as you waited for the inevitable touch, the breath against your neck.

but nothing came. the silence that followed was worse than any sound, thick with anticipation and something else—something watching.

by the time jungwon returned, you were curled into a tight ball, your face pressed against your knees to muffle the quiet sobs wracking your body. the door opened without a sound, but you knew it was him from the way the room immediately stilled, the oppressive weight in the air lifting as if by command.

"oh, sweet thing," he murmured, his voice dripping with false sympathy as the mattress dipped behind you.

his hands were warm where they slid under your shaking form, gathering you against his chest like a child. you hated how easily you folded into him, your body betraying your mind with its immediate relaxation.

"see?" he whispered into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. "you're safest when i'm touching you."

you wanted to protest, to push him away, but your limbs felt leaden, your resistance worn to nothing by the terror of the empty hours. when your fingers twitched weakly against his chest, jungwon made a soft, approving sound and kissed your forehead.

"shhh, i know," he murmured, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.

his thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind your ear in slow circles. "you just needed to learn, didn't you? needed to see what happens when i'm not here to keep you safe."

his kiss started soft, just the barest brush of lips. but when you didn't resist, it deepened, his mouth hot and insistent as his tongue slid against yours. the taste of him flooded your senses, metallic and sweet like the canned fruit he always fed you, and some broken part of you responded without thought, your hands fisting in his shirt.

when you didn’t pull away, he pressed deeper, tongue slipping past your lips with practised ease. he kissed you like he had the right to. maybe that’s what terrified you most.

“see?” he whispered against your mouth, tasting you in slow drags. “you’re already calmer.”

you weren’t. not really. but your breathing had steadied, your muscles unknotted just enough to stop trembling, and your arms were curled weakly around his shoulders. it felt… safer. wrong, but safer.

he coaxed your top over your head with ease, discarding it like it meant nothing. his hands were warm and slow as they skimmed over your skin, trailing reverent touches across your ribs and stomach.

“let me take care of you,” he murmured, more command than offer, but spoken like a promise. “you were scared without me. i know. i felt it.”

his mouth moved to your chest, kissing your collarbone, then lower. when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, you flinched, but didn’t stop him. the heat of his tongue, the way he hummed low in his throat when you arched into him—it made your stomach twist, shame and need tangled too tight to separate.

“you don’t have to think,” he murmured, his palm sliding down your side. “just let yourself feel.”

you should’ve said no. you didn't want his presence right? but you didn’t push him away, instead clung closer to him whispering a breathy okay. because your limbs still felt heavy, your brain still foggy with the memory of isolation and the cold silence of the bunk.

and his hands were so warm.

he kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to bite gently at your hip before nudging your thighs apart with his palms. his eyes flicked up, reading your expression in the low light. your breath hitched.

“tell me to stop,” he said. his voice was calm, but something coiled underneath it. “i’ll stop if you ask.”

you didn’t. you couldn’t.

and that was enough.

his mouth met your folds with agonising slowness, tongue sliding through you like he already knew exactly where to touch. he teased you with slow flicks, warm and wet, circling your clit until your hips twitched, then pulling away just to hear you whine. you hated how quickly your body betrayed you.

“you’re already dripping,” he murmured into your skin. “sweet thing… you missed this too, didn’t you?”

his fingers slipped into you without resistance, two of them stretching you gently. the stretch made you gasp, your walls clenching around him instinctively. he crooked them slightly—finding a spot that made you buck, unbidden—and smiled against your thigh.

“so sensitive,” he cooed, kissing the inside of your knee. “so good for me, even now.”

he kept going until your legs were trembling, slick pooling where his wrist met your body. you were panting, eyes hazy, brain empty of anything but the rhythm of his fingers and the hot drag of his mouth against your clit.

when he finally pulled back, you almost whimpered at the loss.

he stripped without a word, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound between you. when he hovered over you again, cock in hand, he paused at your entrance.

“i’ll go slow,” he said. “i want you to feel everything.”

he pushed in with a groan, hips moving with infuriating control, stretching you inch by inch. the burn was real. but so was the way you clenched around him, the way your legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct.

“fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “you feel like you were made for me.”

his rhythm started slow—careful, deep thrusts that filled you completely, his fingers locked with yours on the sheets. his other hand hovered at your throat again, resting lightly as if to say remember who’s in control.

and still, you didn’t push him away.

you didn’t want to.

you’d tried to sleep alone, and it had nearly broken you. here, at least, you could pretend his touch was warmth and not some strange obsession.

he moaned when you clenched around him, and his thrusts picked up pace, harder now, deeper. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping into yours with a rhythm that turned everything else to static.

“you’re mine,” he growled, breath hot against your ear. “you know you’re mine.”

your orgasm hit with sudden force, tearing through you like a cracked dam. you cried out, shaking, your nails digging into his back.

jungwon swore, driving into you once—twice—before he spilled inside you with a shudder, pressing in so deep it felt like he was trying to disappear inside your body.

neither of you moved for a long time. he stayed buried in you, breath shallow, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“you won’t ask to be alone again,” he whispered against your hair. “will you?”

you didn’t answer. your eyes were already drifting closed.

he pulled the blanket up and curled around you, possessive and still, his fingers tracing lazy shapes across your stomach, like he didn't want to stop touching you.

“good girl,” he said softly. “sleep now.”

and you did, not because you felt safe.

but because you were too tired to be afraid.

the next night, jungwon’s fingers interlaced with yours in the dark, his grip just shy of painful.

"i want to show you something," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. you hadn’t even heard him approach—he moved through these rotting halls like a shadow given form.

"it’s late," you whispered back, your voice hoarse from disuse. the words tasted like a lie because you both knew time didn’t exist here.

jungwon’s thumb stroked your knuckles, a mockery of comfort. "it’s always late here," he said, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength. "come on."

he led you to the broken diving board—the one with cracks spiderwebbing through its surface like veins. you’d passed it a hundred times, maybe more. but tonight, under the flickering glow of the emergency lights, something was different.

"watch," jungwon breathed, pressing your palm flat against what looked like solid wall.

beneath your fingers, the surface pulsed like a heartbeat before peeling away with a wet, tearing sound. your stomach lurched as a hidden alcove revealed itself, the air inside stale and thick with the scent of mildew and something sweet.

"what is this?" you choked out, trying to recoil, but jungwon’s arm banded around your waist, holding you in place.

"ours," he said simply, stepping inside and dragging you with him.

the shelves were lined with artifacts—your waterpark nametag, the plastic slightly warped as if melted. your favourite silver bracelet, the clasp broken, the chain tangled in on itself like a strangled snake. the hoodie you’d been wearing that first night, the fabric stiff with dried pool water and something darker.

"the place gave me these," jungwon murmured, running his fingers over each item with reverence.

his nails scraped against the nametag, the sound making your teeth ache. "it knew you belonged here." he turned to face you then, his eyes glowing an unnatural blue in the dim light. "just like i do."

your breath came in short, sharp bursts. "that’s not—that’s not possible."

jungwon stepped closer, the wall sealing shut behind him with a wet, sucking sound.

"you feel it, don’t you?" his hand rose to cup your cheek, his skin fever-hot against yours. "the way the water stills when you touch it? the way the lights flicker when you’re scared?"

his thumb brushed your lower lip, his grip tightening when you tried to turn away.

"you were always meant to be mine."

you wanted to scream. wanted to claw at his face until that smug certainty bled out of him. but your throat closed up, your voice abandoning you just as it had so many times before.

jungwon’s lips crashed into yours, wet and cold like the slide that had brought you here. his teeth caught your bottom lip, sharp enough to draw blood. the taste of him flooded your mouth—chlorine and copper and something alive, something wrong. behind you, the pool water began to ripple without any disturbance, parting in perfect symmetry as if making way for something unseen.

"see?" he panted against your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close. "even it knows."

the days bled together after that. you watched, numb, as the backrooms bent to jungwon’s will.

you sat cross-legged by the pool’s edge, trailing your fingers through water that had gone suspiciously still. jungwon watched you from a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.

"make it move," he said suddenly, nodding toward the water.

you blinked. "what?"

"the water." he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing yours whole. "try."

you shook your head. "i can’t—"

"try," he repeated, his voice hardening.

you swirled your hand through the water, creating weak ripples that died almost immediately.

jungwon sighed, crouching beside you. "you’re thinking too small."

he placed his palm flat against the surface, and the water recoiled as if burned, forming a perfect circle around his skin.

"it’s not about force. it’s about knowing." his eyes locked onto yours. "knowing this place is yours."

you swallowed hard. "i don’t want it."

jungwon’s smile was all teeth. "liar."

the punishments grew subtler but no less cruel. when you tested him—when you asked one too many questions or pulled away from his touch—the backrooms themselves turned against you.

"why won’t you let me leave?" you demanded one night, your voice cracking.

jungwon, who had been humming under his breath while braiding a strand of your hair around his finger, went very still.

"leave?" he repeated, the word dripping with amusement. "oh, sweet thing. there’s nowhere to go."

the lights chose that moment to flicker violently before plunging you into darkness. something wet dripped onto your shoulder from above. jungwon’s fingers found yours in the dark, his grip vise-like.

"shh," he murmured, though you hadn’t made a sound. "it’s just angry you’d even ask."

when the lights returned, his knuckles were smeared with something dark and glistening. you didn’t ask.

sleep became your only respite, though even that was tainted. jungwon insisted you rest curled against him, his arms banded around your waist like living restraints.

"sing to me," he’d whisper into the nape of your neck on the bad nights, when the walls groaned a little too loudly.

his voice would curl around words you didn’t recognise, the language guttural and wrong.

"it’s an old lullaby," he explained once when you stiffened. "the first thing this place taught me."

sometimes he’d disappear for what felt like hours, returning with his hands stained rust-red under the nails and a smile that made your stomach drop.

"someone else got lost," he’d say, wiping his fingers clean on a towel that was somehow always pristine afterwards.

his eyes would roam your face hungrily, as if comparing.

"but they weren’t you."

the unspoken always hung heavy between you—they weren’t special. they weren’t his.

eventually, he began allowing you to explore—always with him, always with his hand clamped firmly around yours. the invisible leash between you grew shorter each day, tightening whenever you strayed too far.

"why do you hold my hand so tight?" you asked once, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungwon stopped walking, turning to face you. the hallway seemed to hold its breath around you. "because i can’t trust you yet," he said simply, his free hand brushing your cheek. "but you’re learning."

you held his hand not just out of fear, but because his skin was the only warmth left in this rotting place. because the hollow in your chest ached when he wasn’t near. because you couldn’t remember what your reflection had looked like before it started smiling at you with too many teeth.

the pool became your twisted mirror. no matter how still you stood, how blank you kept your face, your reflection always grinned back—wider each time, its eyes darker, its features sharpening into something that wasn’t quite yours anymore.

"she likes you," jungwon said one day as you stared at your warped reflection, his chin hooked over your shoulder. his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "she knows you’re staying."

and now it felt like you did too.

the tallest slide loomed before you—the same one that had first swallowed you whole months (or was it years?) ago. only now, it twisted upward into the flickering fluorescent void, its plastic edges blackened and glistening like the inside of a living throat. you could feel it breathing, each pulse of the structure sending warm, damp air washing over your face. jungwon stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist in a mockery of tenderness, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both stared into the abyss.

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

his fingers traced idle patterns on your stomach through your thin shirt.

"i've been waiting so long to show you this."

your throat tightened as the slide emitted a low, wet hum that vibrated through your shoes and up your spine.

"what... what is it?"

jungwon chuckled, the sound dripping with amusement.

"it's our way forward, sweet thing."

one hand rose to cup your chin, tilting your face toward the spiralling darkness.

"this one leads deeper. to where the water is warm and the lights never flicker," his thumb brushed your lower lip, "where nothing can ever separate us."

you swallowed hard, your pulse rabbiting in your throat. "i don't understand."

"you will."

his arms tightened around you, pulling you back flush against his chest. you could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder blades.

"it's where we belong. where you've always belonged."

when you turned in his arms to face him, your hands came up instinctively to brace against his chest. jungwon was already smiling, his dark eyes gleaming with something ancient and hungry. up close, you could see the way his pupils dilated—not round anymore, but slit like a cat's. when had that happened?

"we'll be happy there," he promised, his voice dropping to a whisper.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. "no more running. no more fear. just you and me. forever."

the word hung between you, heavy and final.

you searched his face—the boy who had fed you when you were starving, who had shackled you when you tried to leave, who had kissed you with teeth that were just a little too sharp. the only constant in this endless, rotting nightmare.

"what happens to me if i say no?" you whispered.

jungwon's smile didn't waver, but something dark flickered in his eyes. behind him, the walls groaned, the sound wet and pained. a single drop of black liquid oozed from the ceiling, landing with a splat between your feet.

"oh, my love," he sighed, brushing your hair back from your face with terrifying gentleness. "that's not an option."

the slide pulsed again, the hum rising to a fever pitch that made your teeth ache. your reflection in the pool behind you grinned, wider than any human mouth should allow.

jungwon's hands slid down to grip your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there.

"trust me," he murmured, his lips grazing yours. "you want this."

and the terrible thing was—

you did.

you took a shuddering breath, your fingers curling into his shirt. jungwon's smile widened, triumphant and tender all at once. his forehead pressed against yours as the slide's opening stretched wider, the darkness inside beckoning.

"together?" you whispered, the word tasting like surrender.

jungwon's laugh was warm against your lips. "always."

you closed your eyes—

and let yourself fall.

ALTERNATE ENDING

you found it again.

the tallest water slide in the entire park—the one that had pulled you into the nightmare when this all began. even after everything, it was still here, standing exactly where you remembered it, though now it shimmered faintly with a green glow that pulsed gently from within the tunnel’s mouth.

jungwon stood beside you, just slightly behind your shoulder. he didn’t say a word. his silence was heavier than any threat he’d ever spoken aloud.

when you turned to glance at him, the absence of expression on his face was more unsettling than any of his smiles. he wasn’t smiling now. there was no softness, no cold affection, not even the hint of disappointment.

“it leads out, doesn’t it?” you asked, your voice quiet and unsteady, though you already knew the answer.

it had to lead out. you felt it. everything in your chest ached with the possibility.

jungwon didn’t answer. instead, he reached for your wrist. his fingers curled around it tightly—not enough to hurt, but firm in a way that told you he was prepared to hold on if you ran.

“it doesn’t matter,” he said eventually.

his voice was calm, too calm, as though your desperation was something he didn’t need to take seriously.

“you don’t want to leave.”

but he was wrong.

you did.

you wanted to leave more than you had ever wanted anything in your life. your body was already bracing to run, every instinct firing all at once. your heart pounded in your chest, loud and fast, and your mouth had gone dry with the weight of the decision forming behind your teeth.

the tunnel wouldn’t stay open forever. the backrooms would shift again. the slide could vanish. and jungwon—he wouldn’t give you another chance. if you hesitated now, if you gave him even one second longer to read your fear, he would never let you get close to this kind of freedom again.

you looked at him—really looked. at the boy who had trapped you with soft hands and quieter lies. who fed you, touched you, claimed to protect you from the things out there when he had become the worst thing in here. the fear in your chest rose like bile.

“jungwon,” you breathed, but the rest never came out.

instead, you ripped your arm free.

his fingers slipped from your skin, and before he could react, you turned and sprinted toward the tunnel, your bare feet slapping loudly against the damp tile. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

he called your name, but it came out ragged—loud and broken in a way that didn’t sound human. his voice echoed across the walls of the abandoned park like something that belonged underground.

but you kept running.

you threw yourself into the slideheadfirst, and it swallowed you without hesitation.

the slide gripped you instantly, and the light blurred as you careened downward. the curves of the tunnel twisted your body in every direction, and each sharp turn sent jolts of pain up your spine. the green glow surrounded you, too bright and too close, pressing in like it wanted to consume you. your lungs burned with the pressure, and your arms flailed for anything to hold onto, but the walls were smooth and slick.

you were falling, spiralling, unmoored in a tunnel that didn’t feel like it was ever meant to end.

and then, just as suddenly, it did.

you hit the ground hard, the concrete beneath you unforgiving and wet. the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, and you lay there for a moment, stunned and breathless. the world spun behind your eyelids as you coughed, your body shaking violently.

but then you realised something was different.

the air you were breathing—it was real. it wasn’t thick with that damp, humming rot of the backrooms. it was cool and dry, laced with the familiar scent of chlorine, dust, and cheap coffee. the silence around you had edges again. and above you, warm sunlight filtered through cracked skylights, casting real shadows onto the floor.

this was the waterpark.

the real one. the one that didn't stretch endlessly into pools of nightmare

you were back.

you pushed yourself upright, palms scraping against rough tile, and looked around with wide, disbelieving eyes.

everything was where it should be. the vending machines stood in their proper place. the lazy river looped around peacefully in the distance. the walls were solid. your own breathing echoed back to you. you had made it.

you had escaped.

your chest clenched as a sob rose up from your throat, and before you could stop it, you were crying. laughing and crying at the same time.

you curled your arms around yourself and let it all out, letting your body shake with the unbearable mix of relief and exhaustion.

you were safe.

you had finally done it!

but then, just as you began to steady your breathing, a sound broke through the quiet.

it came from above, from deep within the vents lining the ceiling—soft at first, almost unnoticeable. but as it grew louder, the shape of it became clear. it was a whistle.

your breath caught in your throat. the sound was too familiar, it was the same off-key melody jungwon always hummed when he thought you were sleeping.

the first footprint appeared in the puddle you'd left behind—larger than yours, the edges too perfectly defined against the concrete. then another, materialising closer as if someone invisible was walking toward you. the water in the lazy river began to ripple against its current, forming patterns that looked disturbingly like grasping fingers.

your hands shook as the lights above you flickered once, twice, before plunging the park into darkness.

the temperature dropped so fast your breath fogged in the air, the hairs on your arms standing on end as the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

then suddenly, cold fingers brushed against your ankle, their grip tightening like a vice.

"did you really think," jungwon's voice whispered from right behind you, his breath chilling the nape of your neck, "that i'd let you go that easily?”

“i will make you mine no matter what”

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon fics #jungwon oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen horror #jungwon horror #yandere enhypen #yandere jungwon #enhypen smut #jungwon smut

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rhysroshalfile · 10 days ago

Text

normal about this

washroom angel

fem!remmick x reader (18+ mdni)

on a routine bartending shift you find a butch in the alleyway and decide to take her home

author's note: hello fellow wlw remmick fans. happy pride month (even though it's almost over) enjoy this delicious little number brought to you by the cigarette i had earlier. big shout out to @rhysroshalfile because their femmick is quite literally the blueprint for this. grma enjoy! warnings: oral (fem recieving), penetration, strap-on, vibrators, drool, biting, hair pulling, sub and bottom remmick, remmick being stalkery (the usual)

You pour another drink for a waiting customer, smirking as she hands over a bill and compliments your makeup.

“Your girlfriend must love all that,” she jokes.

She’s an older butch. She has a strong chin and short hair and a tattoo on her bicep.

“I haven’t got a girlfriend.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Sure is.”

Another dollar in the tip jar.

“Thank you, love,” you chirp, making her grin at you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” a familiar face greets you, sitting at a stool.

“Hi, Lola,” you greet her back. “You want your usual?”

“Please, babe. I’m dyin’.”

You giggle and start to work on a cosmo.

The night continues, you serve more drinks and get more compliments. Other fem patrons ask where you got your boots or what brand of mascara you wear.

“Wait, the makeup is so on,” a one with a pencil thin mustache and pink hair purrs.

“Thank you, love your hair,” you return, passing a hard seltzer over the bar.

You wipe your hands on your apron.

“I’m going for a smoke, Colm!” you call to the other bartender, an older gay man who wears one gold earring.

“Right, dear.”

You step out the back into the alley and light yourself a cigarette. Your lighter sparks, but doesn’t light.

“Oh, come on,” you hiss, shaking it.

You try again and fail.

“Shit.”

You look around, trying to ignore the multiple couples kissing, or the blowjob occurring in the corner. You see a scrawny butch alone.

“Have you got a light?” you ask her.

She flinches.

“You scared me.”

She’s Irish.

“I’m sorry,” you coo sweetly.

“I-I got a light.”

She nods, producing a lighter from her pocket. She lights your cigarette and you watch her hands tremble.

You take a puff, tasting that bitter smoke as it fills your lungs. You exhale away from her face.

“Thanks, love.”

You lean against the side of the building.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?” you tease, pointing at the dark alley.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Unless this was a one-time kinda thing.”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Well, this alley’s just for smoking and fucking, so if you’re not doing either, why are you out here and not inside?”

“I was nervous,” she admits sheepishly.

You know this type. The baby gays who put on their dad’s clothes and go out for the first time, and shake like leaves in the corner of the bar. Too scared to make moves.

Her clothes definitely don’t fit, baggy trousers held up too high by a tight belt.

“First time?”

She swallows hard.

“Yeah…”

You introduce yourself, offering your hand. She shakes it.

“I’m Remmick,” she says.

“Remmick,” you echo. “Did you give it to yourself?”

“I did.”

“Would you like to come in with me, Remmick? I’m the bartender. I’ll give you something really strong, shake those nerves off.”

Remmick nods, eyes wide as she stares at you. You’re the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. Your breasts barely contained by your strappy top and the black lace of your panties peeking over the top of your short skirt make her heart thump in her chest.

You finish your cigarette and flick it on the ground, putting it out with the heel of your boot. The sight makes Remmick weak in the knees.

Remmick sits at the end of the bar and you smile at her.

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah. I… um…”

She’s staring at you. You raise a brow expectantly.

“Why don’t you take a look behind me and I’ll come back, okay?”

She nods.

You look back down, helping someone else and peeking at Remmick as she fiddles with her hands.

“What’s got your eye?” Lola asks.

“The baby butch down there,” you say, pointing to the anxious thing at the end of the bar. “I found her in the alley.”

“Found her?”

“Like a stray kitten.”

“She is cute. She looks nervous.”

“First time, I think.”

“Well, you’re always so welcomin’ to the new girls,” she jokes.

You are. The bar owner had to institute a rule of one person in the employee washroom at a time because of you.

Not that anyone pays attention to it.

“I sure am,” you joke. “Do you want another?”

“I always do.”

You can sense that Remmick is wanting to ask you something, so you make Lola’s drink and set it down, then float down the bar to her.

“Can I just have a beer?”

“Sure.”

You crack open a cold bottle and push it to her.

“Thanks,” she says, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” you tell her, touching her arm. You can feel the muscle tense under your touch and you try not to laugh at her.

“I will. Thank- uh, thank you.”

There is no way you’re leaving without her tonight.

The night winds down, and more people leave. The bar that was previously hot, sweaty, and full of people dancing is now half-full but still hot.

You glance over your shoulder and see Remmick’s finger under her collar, pulling at it.

“You can take your shirt off if you’re hot. Nobody cares.”

She goes red and shakes her head.

“I-I’m not hot.”

You give her a glass of ice water and she drinks it down quickly.

“You seem pretty hot to me.”

“I-I don’t have a shirt on under this…”

“I brought a shirt for the bus, you wanna wear that?”

She nods at you, dumbfounded as she watches you walk to the backroom and return with an oversized black tee you use to cover up on your commute home.

She unbuttons her shirt and pulls yours on in a swift motion, so you only get to see a glimpse of her pale skin and a black sports bra. You also see the glint of a chain around her neck.

“My shift is almost over,” you tell her softly, leaning over the bar. Her eyes are obviously on your tits.

“Oh.”

“You got somewhere to stumble home to, Remmick?”

“I’ll figure it out,” she mumbles.

“Yeah. Or… you could come home with me?” you offer, smirking at her.

She’s wide eyed, slack jawed, and tomato red as she blinks at you.

“You… really?”

“Mhm. I gotta go clock out and wash up and then we can go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

You clock out in the office, fixing your hair in the tiny mirror before exiting with your purse around your body.

“Bye, Colm, bye Lola!” you call, grabbing Remmick’s hand and tugging her with you.

“I-I thought you said-”

“You can come with me.”

Lola laughs.

“She’s gonna eat that wee thing alive.”

You enter the washroom and tug Remmick in, setting your duffel bag on the baby changing station.

“A-are you sure you want me in here?”

“Don’t you wanna be?” you tease. You unzip your skirt and slip it off, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

Remmick stares at your ass, trying to keep herself from drooling. You hold your hand out.

“You can give me my shirt or yours, up to you.”

Remmick pulls off the shirt she tied at her waist, handing it over. You put it on, finding it’s big on you, too. She was really swimming in it.

“Whose clothes are these? Your dad’s?”

“Does it matter?” she jokes lightly. You giggle and back her up against the wall, making her squirm.

“You are so cute,” you tell her, leaning in to kiss her.

She kisses back enthusiastically, her hands flat on the wall. You hold her hips and squeeze lightly.

“You can touch me, love,” you purr in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

She shivers and two shaky hands reach up to hold your waist.

You’re so warm. She can feel your blood pumping and the heat pulsating off of your body is addictive.

“You’re cold,” you tease, your pinky finger hooked in her waistband.

“I-I won’t be if you keep going,” she urges.

You scoff at that, slotting your knee between her legs. She groans against your mouth, keening for friction.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she squeaks. “Yes, yes, fuck…”

You giggle at her, twirling a bronze curl around your finger.

She kisses at your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin. She has to keep her fangs from sliding out, gripping your waist tightly.

You feel her nails dig into your skin, teeth not biting– just ghosting the skin, hardly pressing in.

“Are you trying to bite my neck, you little vampire?”

She almost faints at that. Your hand curls in her hair and tugs it back, making her moan. She covers her mouth, her fangs having slid out.

“You can be loud.”

“Sh-shouldn’t we go?” she pants out from behind her hand.

“Aw, but I really want to make you cum in your trousers,” you tease, pushing your thigh against her.

She shivers as you kiss the shell of her ear.

“I can settle for watching you squirm on the bus.”

She whimpers and you grab her other hand, taking her out of the bar as you walk to the bus stop. She insists on carrying your duffel to be a gentleman.

“But gentlemen don’t eat pussy,” you tease.

“N-no, I can do that,” she affirms eagerly.

“Haven you eaten?” you ask, changing the subject.

Remmick doesn’t figure that out, shaking her head feverishly.

“There was food at the bar, if you were that hungry.”

“We’re… not still talkin’ about pussy?” she squeaks out.

You hyena-laugh, and see someone walking a dog look over at you from across the street.

“You can do that. But I’ll make you some dinner first.”

You sit next to Remmick on the bus. She remains standing, holding the bar next to your seat. You would love to tug her into your lap and make her squeak again, but there are too many people on this bus. You tug her into the seat next to you instead, grinning.

She’s stiff and nervous, clutching your bag like she’ll float away if she lets go.

“This is us, c’mon.” Remmick follows you out, the cold air hits her face as she continues behind you. She’s like a lost dog following you home, and you hold her hand when you get closer to your flat. You step into the building.

Remmick waits outside, nervously tapping her hand on your bag.

“Won’t you come in?” you joke, waving her in.

She takes a step in and you drag her up the stairs, all the way to the third floor. You count the doors until you get to yours, fishing your keys out of your purse and unlocking it to push it open.

“Welcome to my beautiful home,” you joke, showing off your shitty flat. “Please make yourself at home.”

She pads in behind you and hands over your bag.

“Thank you,” you chirp, kissing her cheek.

She’s beetroot again, which has you giggling.

“You can sit down, I’m gonna put something more comfortable on.”

Remmick watches you go into the bathroom and sits on your cozy sofa. There’s a blanket draped over the back she can tell was handmade. Your home isn’t messy, but it is full of little things that tell you about her. Posters of films and bands. Tapestries and art prints and string lights of Polaroids you and friends have taken. She wants to flip through your records and look through your bookshelf, to know everything about you.

You come back out in a faded and oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, stretching your back.

“I can lend you some shorts if you want to get out of those trousers. You’re drowning in them.”

She’s still wearing your shirt, she realises. She was just looking for someone to feed on in the alley and instead she got picked up by the scruff and taken home. She’s a ruthless predator and you’re treating her like a stray kitten.

She blinks at you.

“Right. Erm… did you want to eat?”

“I-I’m not hungry,” she lies.

Of course she is. She’s starving.

“Are you sure?” you coo, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Remmick winces.

“You can relax, I’m not gonna bite. Even though I know you want to bite me,” you tease her.

“C-can we keep kissin’? Like in the washroom?”

“Can we?”

She swallows as you lean down to hold her face in both hands.

“Yeah, this would make a pretty good seat,” you purr, tapping on the tip of her nose with your finger.

In one swift motion, Remmick grabs your arm and tugs you down to the sofa, right on top of her. She kisses you again and you thread your fingers into her messy hair. You straddle her and her hands grip your hips, squeezing the soft flesh there.

“Let- let me… ngh, p-please-”

She can hardly get her words out as you kiss her neck. She pushes at your hem too and you straighten your back, slowly pulling up the hem of your shirt.

“You wanna see ‘em?”

She nods wildly, like she might break her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Please, please… please, wanna k-kiss ‘em and squeeze ‘em, I-I’ll be so gentle, I promise,” she babbles as you drag the fabric up slowly and let your tits bounce into place.

She groans, hands sliding up your sides to squeeze at both of your breasts.

“Y’so soft, love,” she murmurs against your skin.

You hum, feeling her gentle touches become rougher when she pinches your nipple, making you jerk.

Your hand flies down and grabs that damn chain around her neck, yanking her upward.

“Gentle,” you tut.

She nods, swallowing as she does.

“Please, c-can I… can I taste you, please?”

“Beg a little more,” you command with a smirk, holding her chin. “It sounds so good.”

Remmick’s never had a girl like you. You’re cruel, but not overly. Still sweet and affectionate, and you clearly want her just as bad as she wants you.

“Please, I-I’m dyin’ to taste you…”

She whimpers, pleading with her eyes. She cradles your hand, kissing your palm.

“I’m so hungry,” she whines, kissing your fingertips and taking your thumb into her mouth. “I-I’ll make you cum, please, I’ll be so good…”

You climb off of her and point to the carpeted floor, which she darts to, popping up on her knees. You settle on the edge of the sofa cushion and she quickly pulls down your shorts, leaving only your soaked panties. Remmick feels her own drool drip onto her knee and ignores it as she parts your thighs.

She makes something between a growl and a whine and lurches forward, licking you over the cotton on your cunt. She groans against you as she sucks on the gusset of your panties, her nails digging into the meat of your thighs.

You tug her back by the hair. She pants with her tongue still out like a dog.

“I won’t tell you again to be gentle,” you say firmly.

“Yes, love,” she agrees, wincing as she tries to move forward despite the tight grip on her hair. “Please- please, fuck, you taste so good!”

You release her and in a blink she rips the black fabric down your legs with her teeth, spitting them out beside her.

She hooks your legs over her shoulders and kisses your hole, her nose brushing against your clit. She whines against you, the vibration making you jolt.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you sigh, back arching.

Remmick feels her fangs threatening to slide down and sucks on your clit, making you cry out. She pushes a finger inside of you, pumping it and moaning at how slick you are. She adds a second as her other hand goes to work undoing her belt and slipping into her trousers.

“Yeah… f-fuck… t-take my fingers so good,” she encourages weakly, rubbing over her own underwear.

Her tongue lavs at your clit as she pushes a finger inside of herself, making her puff out air. Her nose pushes against you and she licks noisily at the slick dripping down her fingers. Only it mixes with her drool and slowly slides down her wrist.

“Fucking yourself while you eat my cunt, that’s class,” you tease her, giggling. “Taste that good?”

“So fuckin’ sweet,” she manages to say, lifting her head for a split second before returning to your cunt.

“Fuck, Remmick,” you breathe. “D-don’t stop- fuck! Yes, yes, right there!”

You look down at her.

“Don’t you fuckin’ cum,” you threaten.

“Wh-why not?”

“You’re only cumming if I make you do it,” you tell her.

She obediently pulls her hand away and you hold out a hand. She hesitates and gives you her hand. You take her two fingers in your mouth, licking between them to make her gasp and squirm. She keeps pumping her fingers in and out, and you match her pace, bobbing your head as you suck her fingers.

You inhale sharply and bite down on her fingers accidentally, making her yelp and pull her hand away. The mounting pressure in your abdomen bursts and you gush into Remmick’s waiting mouth. Her fangs are out but she doesn’t care, drinking up your nectar as she lazily pushes her fingers into you.

“So good,” she gurgles, slurping up your wetness. Her drool is part of the mess, and you’ve absolutely left a stain on the sofa.

You tug her head back to get her off of your sensitive cunt and she quickly shuts her mouth, willing her fangs to slide back up.

“Wass’at good?” she asks, grinning at you.

“So good,” you praise her, stroking the side of her face. She pushes into your touch like a cat.

“Do you want more?” you offer.

“Please, I want you so bad,” she whines.

You lean forward and grab her face, squeezing her cheeks.

“Who’s on top?”

She makes a little noise and you give her a stern look.

“Remmick.”

“Y-you,” she stammers out.

“I can’t hear you. Who’s on top?”

“You, you,” she chants. “Fuck me, please, I’m beggin’ you…”

You stand up on wobbly legs and lead her to your bedroom.

“You should take your clothes off.”

She peels off your shirt, wet and sticky with drool and your juices, and tosses it behind her. Her sports bra follows and she shoves down her too-big-trousers.

You glance at her and laugh at her plain white men’s underwear.

“What?”

“Those too.”

You dig in a box in your closet and produce your double strap, which is just an egg attached to a dildo that you hold in place with a harness. Remmick is intimidated by the size, shivering. You harness up and she drools at the sight of the black straps squeezing the soft skin of your ass and thighs.

“You drool a lot,” you note as you shove her back onto the plush covers.

“Fuck, how can I not?” she groans as you climb up and settle over her.

You shove her legs apart and pin her down against the bed, grinding the strap against her. She squirms and huffs, trying to get more friction.

“Let me stretch you out, love,” you tell her, pushing in two fingers. She makes a choked noise as her head lolls to the side.

“That’s good, just breathe,” you encourage her softly.

She needs you so bad, needs you inside of her. She needs your warm body over her so she can bite you already.

“You ready for it, Remmick?”

She nods and pants, her arms covering her face as she tries not to bite her own arm.

“Fuck, please,” she cries, wrecked already.

You reach down and flick on the vibrations, shivering at the feeling. You slip into her and she moans, her voice cracking as she arches her back.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” you praise her. She locks eyes with you, panting as you push in further. The two of you are skin to skin. Remmick’s leg hooks over your hip and you slide all the way in, your hips meeting hers. You stay like that, grinding your clit against the silicone. You tuck your face into her neck and she can’t take it anymore.

She’s so hungry.

Her lips brush your neck and her claws grow from her hands as she grabs the back of your hair and bites into your neck, snarling.

You gasp, thrashing to get away but she turns you over, rocking her hips as she drinks from your pulsing jugular.

She pulls back, blood coating her mouth and chin, fangs pointed behind her lips.

She whines, bringing herself up and down, bouncing on the strap as you feel your body tense up. It’s not another orgasm. You feel your teeth and your hands changing. It’s a painful, slow process, like growing pains in triple time. You cry out and Remmick puts a claw to her bloody lips.

“No, shh. Don’t cry,” she comforts you, still riding your strap. She takes your clawed hands and brings them to her waist.

“Ngh… y-you’ll be such a good bride. And I will too, I promise,” she says eagerly. She has a little lisp now with her fangs.

“Y-you’re all mine, please… I deserve this…”

She gasps as she grinds down, pushing the silicone against you. You twitch and she digs her claws into your shoulders. It hardly hurts though, but you can feel your own claws in her sides. In your sides. But they’re your claws.

She gasps and straightens up, twisting her body and whimpering.

You feel yourself right on the edge, but you’re already cumming, twitching and spasming around the egg inside of you. But you feel the strap. And you feel your own hands.

“It’s s-so much to st-start,” Remmick tries to explain, trembling from her own orgasm.

You easily lift her off of your strap and reach down to turn off the vibrations. You slip it out of you with a slick pop and Remmick curls up to your side, licking the wound on your neck.

“I-I’ve been watching you for weeks,” she admits. “You take girls home and they don’t say thank you or… or stay for breakfast. I wanted you to cook for me, but human food just… tastes so bland now. You’ll understand.”

She nuzzles into your neck, kissing your chin.

“I’ve wanted to be your bride for so long now,” she sighs.

You look at her. You feel her admiration for you, her lust and the way you make her giddy.

“See? Now you’re my bride… and we feel each other.”

She kisses you, smearing blood on your lips.

“Mo chroí… now we’re together forever.”

#FIRST OF ALL IRISH ACCENT FEMMICK yall would have to hold me back #ive mentioned this somewhere but my first kiss was an irish butch in the backroom of an irish bar so this is such a specific niche im into #I DID NOT GET THIS LUCKY THAT NIGHT but its nice to read about it #shes so cringe and lame it bewitches me #“are we not still talking about pussy???”😳 GIRL #found a girl so strange and rizzless i let her hit #anyway the shirt swap was super cute #if i draw for this im gonna have to make her younger lookin oops #fuck shes so desperate for it #BIG FAN OF THAT #a pathetic drooling mess from how bad she wants you is exactly how i like my femmick #yanking on her chain:] yeah #her tightey whiteys HAHAHAHA dork (need that)#her biting you then putting herself on top to ride the strap #and say THE ICONIC LINE #oh thats a religious experience #need to draw that in a way that doesnt violate tumble guidelines #i imagine the expression plays a little differently if shes fucked out #oh my goodness please no one who knows me irl read these tags NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I TALKED LIKE THIS #anyway. love that #her being pissed that the girls reader fucks dont thank her or stay for brekkie bc she knows she could treat her better than that #yeah #its kinda funny how chill reader is about being turned. “what the hell sure”#good read big fan #FUCKKKKKK I CANNOT BELIEVE FEMMICK FIC EXISTS NOW....I thought i would never see this day bc me and figs are too busy to write lmao #THANK YOU TUMBLR USER SCANNAINSCANRULA #oh i just noticed the “sinners welcome” sign thats cute and clever #happy pride month to me specifically wow #ok yap over✋️

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