#but if you said something like that to his face he would be more than a little pissed

[muntitled]

Girl On TV

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader

Summary: After being humiliated by his not-so-innocent friends for being far too innocent, you decide not to be such a prude for once in your life

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Virgin!Reader, Coercion, Peer Pressure, Drug Use, Virginity shaming, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Sadomasocism, Grinding, Porn, Corruption Kink, Pillow Humping, Mutual Masterbation

A/n: I love being a problematic Namgyu stan

You hadn't known it would come down to this.

Had you been told before you would be dragged to sit on his lap under the dim lights of Club Pentagon and made to see this... you might not even have some at all.

Perhaps if he had invited you under the guise of distracting you from academics for one Friday night, you might've been more open.

Less of a prude.

But you had never seen such a clean line of powder stretched across the table in your life. In fact your body burns with not only embarrassment at being in the proximity of such hardcore drugs, but your bones were also set alight in fear.

The arms that have been cradling your waist pulls you in tighter, making you feel smaller than you actually were on his lap. This is what you loved about him. He liked you. Your curves. Your face. Your everything.

You could stick this out, couldn't you?

You should.

"Woah," He calmly whispers into your ear. All at once, every morsel of discomfort is driven out by your overwhelming need to please him.

The club is dark.

The music is good.

Namgyu's pulled you onto his lap in front of an embarrassingly large group of strangers. Everything is perfect.

"What's wrong?" He's so attentiative, bending his head down to whispers conspiratorially into your hair. His voice drowns out the oppressive rap song being performed on the center stage on the ground floor of the club and for all of five minutes its just you and him and the cocaine. Buy mainly, just him.

"You're strung up." He whispers.

You're quiet for a few tense minutes, wondering if you should voice your concerns and risk having him disappointed in you for not having fun like he intended.

"I don't know if I'm too comfortable."

"Here?" You hear him whisper, slightly poking his head forward to nudge his nose into the back of your neck, "With me?" He's using that petulant almost needy voice of his when he's inebriated and it tugs at something deeply troubled inside you.

"Not with you," you reassure him, "With that-" you nudge your head forward slightly, leading his half-lidded eyes to the long stripe of cocaine marring the table. "And your friends," you reluctantly murmur, letting yourself sink against him as if he had the power to scare these drunken people away. As if he wasn't forcing you here, amongst them at all.

"You know Thanos is a big name in the club scene-" He begins and you cut him off by sighing very loudly as you resch forward to grab your glass of water off the small, reflective table.

Thoroughly annoyed because he's sung this song before.

"I know, Namgyu but-"

His fingers weave into themselves around your waist, securing you against him like a baby, "Just be cool for like 40 minutes- maybe and hour-"

Your blood pressure skyrocketed as you turned back to shoot him, not only a look of immense incredulousness but betrayal.

"Namgyu, you said you wanted to take me out- yeah? Not your friends-”

"-Then we can get out of here, and I'll give you all the kisses you want."

You sigh heavily once more. “You didn't say anything about-"

He loosens his grip from your waist before standing up, forcing you to stand up in the process.

"He's coming," he whispers, keeping his eye off into the distance. His attention is much not on you and your present moral struggles.

"This is work, baby, you know this-"

"Namgyu- I have a test on-"

He pinches your side as a new guest enters the section. "Shh." Namgyu whispers at the same time the guest's boisterous hollers cause you to quite literally flinch.

"Yo, Namsu!" He's dripping in gold chains and purple hair. "Who is this fine Senorita you've brought with you?" He asks despite having two women under his arm. "You trying to outdo me bro?" Thanos takes a seat directly beside you and Your boyfriend.

"This is my girl-" He says at the same time Namgyu pulls you back onto his lap.

"It's Nam-Gyu-" you say through gritted teeth. "Not Nam-Su." Your eyes are narrowed at the man who only listens and smiles.

You glare daggers at the man before your boyfriend taps you slightly, reminding you to answer. “I have water- so no thank you." You say before mumbling, "I'm not a snitch either-"

"Is she partaking with us?" He asks your boyfriend, despite looking right at you. “Or is she a snitch?"

The girl under Thanos' arm snickers. "Water?"

You once again, tried to crawl further into Namgyu's lap.

He, thankfully tightened his grip around your waist, never letting you go as he conversed in inebriated chatter with Thanos. The more drugs they consumed the louder they got, until Namgyu started flailing his right arm wildly while he told a story, still having somewhat enough sense to keep a languid grip on your waist.

Somewhere, amongst all the useless chatter, you decided to add in your two cents, snickering quietly to yourself as you mumbled over the rim of your glass, "I've actually never watched porn before-"

"What do you mean you've never watched porn before?" Your eyes widen when you realize you'd spoken louder than you intended to and one of Thanos' girls snicker loudly. The sound carries across the table to his degenerate friends and their girlfriend's and causes a whole new wave of laughter to be birthed from your embarrassment.

You begin to squirm in Namgyu's lap.

Despite the drugs and the loud music, the two of you were having such a nice evening... You never fancied partying much and yet, your boyfriend had to sink his claws into you to get you to agree to one night of partying. The consequences of that decision are playing out in front of you.

"You've been banging a virgin this entire time?" Thanos asks Namgyu the same time and nameless girl says-

"Even I've watched porn."

Despite the anxiety flooding your veins at being the center of unwanted attention, Namgyu's grip around your waist is firm. It keeps you grounded. It tightens around you now, nudging you against him like his nose at the nape of your neck.

"Have I?" Namgyu asks with his eyes as hazy as the city caught in dusk. There isn't alcohol on his breath, only a light dust of snow under his nose.

"Have you what?" You ask, staring down at your trembling hands.

"Been dealing with a virgin this entire time?" He asks, unraveling your very private life to a room full of strangers. He's high. And incredibly loose with his mouth. You have to find it in you to take his inebriation into account but you only feel annoyed.

“Is that why you don't do drugs with me?"

"I don't do drugs with you because I actually value my health-"

"Sick burn," Thanos snorts in his little corner.

Your eyes widen. Your throat tightens.

These aren't your people.

Your people are nestled in the university library, cramming one final time before their semester tests.

Yet here you were, caught under a thick cloud of smoke that had your throat burning, all for a boy.

And admittedly priceless one.

"Don't be an asshole." You turn to glare daggers at him.

"Don't be a prude-" he shoots back. A few locks of hair fall from behind his ear as he watches you with a darkened gaze. "Is that why we haven't had sex yet?" Your heart plummets, "cus you're a virgin?” Namgyu asks. You don't know which side he's on.

"Woah!? A virgin in the flesh-" Thanos hollers, staring at you like a specimen in a petri dish. He nudges the girl under his arm, "I'd cheat on you if you ever tried that shit with me.”

"I know!" The girl responds before turning to look at you with dazed, dilated pupils. "Aren't you scared he's gonna do something if you wait too long?"

These aren't your people.

"If Namgyu wants to sleep with someone then by all means-"

You wrestle out of his iron grip, thanking God for the water that's keeping you sober and steady on your feet.

"Ooh, spicy, spicy-" Thanos mumbles

"Can I go please?" Namgyu keeps his hand in yours, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

"Nah, you leave when I leave, I'm still working-"

You pull your hand out of his.

"I have a test on Tuesday. Goodnight.

Its not like you thought he would follow you. Namgyu was especially selfish, as was the case for most addicts. Right now, you imagine him snapping out of his daze, leaning back over that table, tucking his hair behind his ears as he snorted up whatever Thanos wanted him to.

You didn't think you were being followed and so you feel thoroughly and completely alone once you get to your apartment.

Despite being completely alone this evening, you still try to hide what you're watching on your phone. Your headsets are pulled over your ears, your head reclined against the arm of the couch while your blankie was pulled over your supine frame. You hadn't exactly planned on watching porn this evening but the group's bullying had left you curious.

The girl projected on your phone screen looks up at the actor about to rail her insides. "You've been a bad girl,"

You roll your eyes into the back of your skull. This was precisely why you refrained from mainstream porn. Some of the best stuff was either in your audio files or in your reading list. Visual porn never did much for you- until you scrolled a little too far down to a new, more promising video.

The actress has a crimson handprint on her ass, as her dom forces her to ride her pillow. Despite the difference in skin tone and the overall mediocre acting, you were having a considerable amount of fun imagining yourself in her place. You thought about an invisible collar clamped around your throat with a big, strong, domineering man loomed above you, forcing you to push your clit right up against-

The more you slipped into a pleasure filled haze. You watch with bated breath.

"Sh-it-" you nearly fall off the couch. Your phone plops out of your slippery hands, right onto your face and your headphones slide off. Standing above you, is Namgyu, trying to fight a grin off his face as he stares down at you. You look up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Wh-when did you get back home?" the words barely leave your mouth before Namgyu's grabbing your phone.

"Naughty, naughty girl," He doesn't seem surprised to see the contents on your screen. In fact, the only giveaway that he saw anything at all is the slight flicker his eyes make towards you, before he stares back down at the phone.

"H-How was 'work'?" You're desperately trying to steer your attention away from the blatant porn on your phone screen, away from the smirk on his face as he bites his lips, away from his exposed tattoos in his short sleeve shirt.

"Work was work." He replied, still watching the porn, "I'm high as shit." He says casually as he disappears into the bedroom, your phone still in his hand.

"Hard too." He says when he returns. Your phone clutched in one hand and the large teddy bear he bought you for your 21st clutched in the other hand. You furrow your brows up at him, confused when he takes a seat on the couch. Your feet against his thigh as he clicks a few buttons on your phone before seating the giant teddy bear beside him.

He grabs the remote before pressing a few buttons.

You freeze when you hear the moans first.

Your gaze catches the TV.

There, the girl from your screen rides her pillow and you're forced to watch.

You're almost too embarrassed to feel turned on. Ungluing your eyes from the TV, you instead watch your hands in your lap.

He places a hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's sitting comfortably on his side, remarkably unfazed by the girl's pornographic moans.

"Fuck the bear." Is all he says, as he leans against his arm and he strokes your chin. Petting you.

"Wha-"

"You gonna make me ask again?"

It's something in his tone and his hazy, half-lidded gaze that kickstarts your senses as you languidly stand on your feet. You're trembling and he reaches out to interlock your hands in his. Namgyu loved how eager yet innocent you are for him. He can see in the clumsiness of your movements that you were already slipping into subspace. With trembling fingers, you reach up to the thin straps of your pyjama dress and he nods his head.

"Should I take off my panties too?" Your voice is small.

Namgyu tilts his head. "You even have to ask?"

Behind you, the girl's breathing doubles and her moans increase.

"Better hurry or she's gonna cum." He taunts, watching like a stone statue as you mount the bear seated beside him. Namgyu's breathing catches as you straddle the bear, your movements tense and uncertain.

"Fuck the bear-" you lower your cunt onto the fur material and you moan, having not realized how wet you'd actually been this entire evening.

"That's it- fuck." He spreads his legs, leaning back more as he lets his hand brush over the tent in his jeans.

You don't moan because it feels good. It doesn't. Not immediately at least. You moan because Namgyu is watching. Reclined against the couch as his eyes stay on you.

"Ride the plushie like the girl in the video." He says. Your throat dries when he continues to languidly stroke his hand over the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Fuck- Gyu," he knew when the nickname fell from your lips that you were done for.

You both were.

Your eyes steadily roll to the back of your head as you grind your pussy against the bear, already creating a wet spot.

Behind you, you heard the girl moan and whine and somehow that spurrs you on.

"So fucking needy-” you gasp when you feel a hand cupping your exposed breasts. Namgyu reaches over to tweak your nipples just as his other hand finally slips inside his pants.

"Crane your fucking neck back. Try to watch the slut make herself cum." When you do, your hips stutter hard and your clit twitches.

"You watch her." Namgyu commands, stroking his exposed cock, "I'd rather watch you."

As you watch, his mouth runs. Namgyu swore a lot but it doubled when he caught himself in the throes of arousal.

“You look just like that bitch, you know that?”

Your mouth snaps open as you watch her. Your expression is pained.

“You want everyone to think you're such a quiet little girl but your just a slut, yeah?” He speaks lpuder, “Just my fucking slut- fuck.” It nearly causes you to cum everywhere. Her hand is pushing down on the face of the poor, poor pillow as she rides it. You can tell she's close.

Unable to look any longer, you turn back. Your hazy eyes meets Namgyu's dilated ones. He's stroking his cock, head thrown back against the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar. His cock is throbbing in his hand and he squeezes, showing you the precum sliding down the length.

"Gyu, please-" you grinded harder against the plushy and Namgyu picked up the pace.

"You imagining me fucking you, huh?" He throws his head back, closing, his eyes momentarily close as his cock twitches in his hand.

"Fuck- I-" your clit was rubbing against the plushie just right. Namgyu's fingers mercilessly squeezing your nipples have you seeing stars. This friction was enough.

Fuck.

Air could be enough to let you come in this moment. All you had to do was buck your hips a little more- but the pain blooming across your breasts were distracting you from cumming.

"Please-" your whole body was trembling- "It fucking hurts!"

His mouth falls open at that, before leaning his head against the couch. He squeezes the base of his cock and you watch the precum slide down its length.

"Fuck, say that again-" he brings his head back before stroking his cock faster. "Fuck the plushie, baby," His hips move up from the couch to meet his hand. "Tell me it hurts again-"

He sits up to tweak your nipples again and you whine. "H-Hurts so bad-"

"Yeah, Princess, just like that," he groans, throwing his head back, "Such a stupid fucking slut-" he admits, voice groggy.

Somehow that final degradation has your hips twitching as your clit spasms and you slip into the stars.

The second you cum, Namgyu does too. Cursing and mumrering a quiet and slightly broken, "Fuck- such s-slut-" before reaching over to grab a fistfull of your braids. Your hips are still writhing, your eyes as blank as a corpse as he pulls you forward to spray his cum all over your face.

He squeezes his cock, unable to keep his pretty eyes shut as he watches you writhe and moan. "Fuck me-" he sighs.

"Don't watch this shit again." He says, huffing and puffing. "It's bad for you."

In a second, he presses a button on the remote and the TV screen is black.

"If you need dick, come to me."

"You were making f-fun of me," you grumble under your breath, and you sigh heavily.

Your eyes are shut but you can feel him playing with his cum on your face.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I was just surprised. You're surprising." There's a thick layer of emotion in his voice. It has your body wracking with aftershocks. "You're not like anything I've ever experienced."

[allhopesforlove]

Farewell, my love: part 2

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, jealousy, and just more angst than before I’m sorry (not) :)

part 1

———————

He couldnt breathe. It was too much, too many feelings flooding him at once and it felt like little needles were prickling him all over his skin. It was getting hot and if he hadn’t been leaning on Elain he was sure that he would’ve actually fallen down on his knees. He was breathing faster and the constant flood of emotions and thoughts weren’t making this any better. He was scared. Scared to even think what this meant.

“Azriel, sweetheart, talk to me.. hey, hey look at me.”

But he couldn’t. He, he needed air. He needed space, because this didn’t make any sense. Why now? Why when he finally found the happiness he was looking for, for so many years? Why when he finally settled his heart for another and dared to bare his soul to her? Why now, when his fucking mate decided to take on something that’d cost her her life? Why was he put in a position where he couldn’t decide what and who to choose?

He still heard her heart, how it beat almost the same as his. Warmth spread around him and he looked up again to see the cause of all this turmoil inside of him. There, he saw her. His mate. His. Oh god, he had a mate. He felt tears already rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. Somehow, only looking at her already made him much calmer than before. She still looked at him with wide eyes as if she herself couldn’t believe what had just transpired between them and he couldn’t blame her, because neither did he. There was a sudden urge to just hold her and take away all her pain and-

“Azriel.”

He felt two soft hands cradling his face and turning it to the side to make his golden hazel eyes meet with brown ones. It caused him to break out of this bubble that was forming and he was brought back to reality. Elain, oh Elain. He- oh god- he really forgot about her for a second, because everything, well everything was so sudden and he actually didn’t mean to, because he loved Elain, with all his heart- his heart, he already gave it to her, he was hers as much as she was his- and he already felt another set of tears forming in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I want to help you, but you have to help me here a bit yeah?” She said while looking at him with soft shiny eyes and a small smile. The smile he fell in love with.

“Try to breathe along with me.” He was still shaking as Elain lead his hand towards her chest- her heart- to make him calm down and follow the same rhythm as hers. He tried to focus, he really did, but the constant flood of emotions really distracted him. So with all his strength he breathed in and out just as Elain did. He brought his forehead towards hers and closed his eyes. In. And out.

“Just like that, you are doing so great.” He felt a kiss on his nose and he had to smile at that. He was calming down a little.

“Thank you ‘lain” he rasped out.

And when he opened his eyes, Elain looked at him with such intensity that he needed a second to think. He really does love her huh. While the heartbeat of another was becoming more silent, it still was there. He took a deep breath and took the hands on his face in his own. Looking her in the eyes, he kissed the inner part of Elain’s hands and mustered up another set of words to reassure her.

“I am feeling better.” Elain smiled at that, however the confusion was still present in her eyes, and- oh god- she didn’t make this easier for him when she looked up at him with that soft gaze.

“Would you mind sharing with me what just happened?” She asked in an almost hushed tone, as if she didn’t want the other’s around them to know.

How was he supposed to explain to her what had just happened, when he himself still hadn’t any time to think. When so many thoughts were whirling around in his head and he couldn’t grasp to control them.

Elain must’ve noticed his confusion and hesitation as she reassured him.

“Its okay you can take your time. But you really got me scared here for a second Azriel and I, I just want to help you and know if you are-“ she choked on her last words and something in him felt so bad for not telling her instantly. For not choosing her instantly. For having thoughts of another in his mind. For feeling what another woman is feeling, for hearing a heartbeat and feeling a connecting string to another and it not being her? How could he tell her that it took all the strength in him to not just turn around and walk towards his mate to hold her in his arms, while on the other hand his mind and heart is yelling at him for forgetting all the promises he made to the woman standing infront of him for a second. A second that is a second too much. Because all the space in his heart is already reserved for Elain, there shouldn’t be any space left for another. But how could he explain to Elain that with every growing second he itches to just follow his instincts.

“I know this is confusing, trust me, I- I am confused but I, I- can’t and-“ he tried to stay calm and took a breath. Elain took his hands in hers again and encouraged him to go on with her eyes whenever he felt ready.

But ready he would never be, because just as he thought that he had everything under control, something inside of him jolted and made his head turn around sharply towards y/n. Alongside that, he felt a disgusting amount of hurt rolling over him that it took his breath away.

There she stood, tears rolling down her eyes while still looking at him. While Cassian was holding her wrist and trying to turn her towards him. He saw that he was saying stuff to her, but all the voices were quieted down by that ringing noise again. Now, if only he understood that she was crying because she saw her mate seeking comfort in another woman and that Cassian, along with his other friends, was only trying to understand the situation, was trying to comfort his friend, he wouldn’t have swatted off Elain’s hand this fast. He wouldn’t have taken charge towards Cassian. No, because this? This was pure male instinct taking over him. A male was touching his mate. She was crying.

His brain screamed at him to think for a moment before he took such rash decisions, but again, the bond had just snapped and all his emotions were running high, thoughts suppressed down by instincts. So he did what every mate would’ve done in his situation. He went to protect his mate.

—————————

The last thing y/n heard was the sound of Mor’s cries and Emerie’s words, because after that everything seemed to go silent and only a ringing was heard. A ringing from her opposite site, right where Azriel was standing. So she looked at him, looked how his eyes widened and how a string was forming to connect them. No. This, this couldn’t be right?

But an overwhelming amount of woody notes hit her nose and she became painfully aware that Azriel was unconsciously sending over his emotions. So much confusion and helplessness. She… she was his mate?

She felt the tears forming in her eyes while she didn’t know how she should feel about this revelation. The shadowsinger, the one person she has loved desperately for decades, the one person whose attention she never fully got, the one standing besides another, holding her hand, that person was his mate? And the bond snapped right before she signed her death warrant? Oh how cruel. How cruel all of this was, hasn’t she suffered enough?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, this was too much. And then Elain had to cradle her hands around his face. Her mate. She was touching her mate. She was furious, but realized too quickly that she couldn’t do anything about it. Because why did she feel less and less of Azriel’s emotions as he leaned his forehead against hers? This hurt, this hurt so much. Someone should’ve just gotten a knife and pierced it through her chest, because it would’ve promised her a less hurtful death.

This was agony, as she felt her brain carving in this sight in her memory so that she always remembered that even when the bond snapped between them, something so sacred, Azriel still chose another woman over her.

There was no place for jealousy in her when she saw Azriel placing little kisses in Elain’s hands as she only felt an enormous amount of pain and loss and grief, grief for something she didn’t have to begin with.

She felt like she was dying if it was not for Cassian noticing her sudden silence while the others were still arguing.

“Hey.. y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Hey-”

but she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t understand… why was his mate not looking at her? Why was it that another male was seeing her and not him? So she tried to look for something inside of her, she had to try breathing again, she needed to pull, pull on something.

And finally, Azriel turned her way, finally he looked at her. One moment he still had that sad look on his face when it suddenly turned into this eerie and intense gaze that felt like a predator sizing up his prey. She had never seen that look on him, his stare sending shivers down her spine. And suddenly he was moving.

—————————

His expression was carved in stone, a chilling coldness radiating from his gaze. Fists already clenched and ready to pounce on someone, feet moving with fast precision and his target clear. The bond in him shining brighter and encasing him completely. He was going to protect his mate and make the male pay for hurting her.

“Y/n you are scaring us, what’s going on- oh- Az what are you- YO WHAT THE FU-“ and Cassian felt a scrunch in his nose. But before he could stand up from the ground he felt Azriel already pouncing on him. What. the. fuck.

Azriel didn’t care. Didn’t care if the male in front of him was nearing his death with every punch he threw his way, and when he felt other arms trying to force him away from the male, he growled and felt so much strength course through his body, because no matter what, he was going to make this male pay and no one could prevent him from doing it.

No one; but apparently a strong pull within him. Because he felt his mate again and looked up instantly from the ground where he was just punching Cassian. And from this near he could see her eyes more clearly- a green color with a soft touch of brown and blue. She was ethereal and he was mesmerized by this woman standing in front of him. His mate was gorgeous. Just like that his heart started pounding faster again and for a moment he felt his ears reddening, because how could this beautiful being belong all to him?

“Are you alright?” He almost wheezed out at her, because he lost all his stamine to fight Cassian- wait. CASSIAN. Almost instantly he scrambled up and looked down to see a bloody faced Cassian laying on the ground.

“What has gotten into you Azriel?!” Rhysand screamed at him. And rightly so. The High Lord had struggled to get into his shadowsinger’s mind to yell at him to stop after he couldn’t get him off of Cassian. But he had been met with an iron wall, which is why he couldn’t reach Azriel.

“Brother I don’t know, if you just got possessed by something but damn if you needed to let off some steam, warn a guy beforehand yeah?”

Cassian tried to lighten up the mood a bit, because what had just transpired was far from normal, far from the Azriel they knew. And quite frankly it scared him and made him worry for his friend. From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta rushing out the tent she was in with what looked like some healing supplies. Thank god, he couldn’t feel his face.

Azriel looked frantic. His head was spinning and he couldn’t think clearly. What had he just done? He looked around him and saw his friends attentively staring at him, some worried, some scared of what he might do next.

“What were you even thinking?” He met the cold stare of his mate. Of y/n. God. A mate. She wiped the tears of her face with fast movements and stood tall again. And before he could respond her

“Azriel..?” And there, the voice that made his toes curl whenever he heard it. However, he wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face her. Amongst all, she had seen him do this. She had seen this side of him, but most of all she was probably confused by his actions or maybe she got a clue, he didn’t know. He needed to get out of here, but their situation didn’t really allow him, as he was reminded of their conflicting conversation before the bond snapped. As if nothing happened, as if the bond hadn’t snapped, and as if he hasn’t caused such a big scene mere minutes ago, y/n turned to Rhysand once more.

“Breaking this to the soldiers will be a tough one, I am sure all of them will understand that our charge means nothing but promised death. I just hope they’ll follow along.”

Then a pause. He saw her trembling slightly but whatever it was she snapped out of it and a deathly coldness radiated off of her.

“I will wait for your command Rhysand.” There she stood, like a perfectly trained warrior, someone who was drilled into this role.

“Y/n are you just going to ignore wh-“

“Rhysand.” She really was going to do this?

“We are in the midst of something bigger. Our enemies-” she pointed towards the Northern side, where she knew Hybern soldiers resided.

“-they won’t wait for us to take our sweet time to discuss these matters. We don’t know when they will charge next, but damn it if they get to us before we get to them, all of us will die on this battlefield, I can assure you that! We need to move and we need to do it faster than them.” She heaved out.

Rysand looked at her with an expression that pained her, he looked conflicted, like he was struggling to switch between his role’s of a brother and friend and his role as the High Lord of the Night Court.

Of course he knew that all y/n was saying was true, but damn it, he’s got the feeling that if he doesn’t interfere now, if he doesn’t press on the matter more, he would regret it for the rest of his life. That Azriel may regret it for the rest of his life. He looked at him then, at Azriel’s disheveled and unmoving form, as if he was in a trance. He waited for him to intervene again, but when nothing came out of his brother’s mouth, he made the decision.

But not before talking to his mate. Are you sure of this? She asked in his mind. We’ve got no other choice Feyre he returned sadly but determined. And then he spoke out what he always feared most towards a member of his close circle.

“You may leave whenever you feel ready. Thank you for all of your services soldier.” He had to. he needed to switch to his High Lord tone, because if he didn’t get ahold of himself it would mean their ultimate death. Of everyone.

Y/n just sharply nodded towards him, because they couldn’t do emotional farewells now, not now, when she knew that she and all the others would break down and they wouldn’t actually let her go. And by that she would just endanger the lives of everyone. She didn’t want that. So she and Rhysand had to act their roles. With that, without taking another look at her friends, she turned around and headed towards their military base.

But she was suddenly grasped by another force that turned her around once again.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll just let you go!”

The way her heart started fluttering faster when he hold her hand was almost too pathetic. However, she couldn’t do this with him. Before, this was always what she had wanted, but now… now everything has changed, she couldn’t get herself to be influenced by his sweet words.

She looked him in the eyes then.

“Please let go of me Azriel, you are making this more difficult than it already is.”

And she told him the truth. This was difficult for her. Knowing that her mate stood right before her, that she may have a chance to maybe, she didn’t know but .. but it hurt that only now, only now that he was forced by the bond he started to care for her. This is definitely not what she wanted, not this way. So against everything that the bond demanded of her, she pushed his hand out of the way, but he grabbed for her again.

“Difficult? I am making this difficult? Are you out of your mind? So you want me to stand here as if nothing happened between us? As if we aren’t-“

“Don’t end your sentence shadowsinger.” And he looked pained that y/n almost surrendered to kiss his frown away and take away all the sadness in his eyes. She snapped out of it. She couldn’t do this to him.

“You want to act like I belong to you all of a sudden? Who gives you the right to tell me what or what not to do? I made my decision, end of discussion. So now if you would please kindly let go of my hand.”

But he didn’t. Rather he strengthened his grip around her.

“Y/n, I understand that this is very bad timing, I understand your anger, but we need to talk about this before you make decisions of life and death, don’t you understand!”

He was trying so hard to find the right words, afraid of saying something that may aggravate the situation even more. Afraid of losing his mate before even having a chance at life with her. God, he still couldn’t believe it.

“Okay, then I got a question for you and you have to be honest with me.”

She needed to stop, she needed to stop self sabotaging herself.

“Ask me and I’ll answer truthfully y/n, I swear it to you.”

He didn’t know what came over him, but all he wanted for now was bring his mate back to safety, have more time to think this through more thoroughly.

“You want me to come back with you, but can you actually promise me that you are going to accept this bond with me? Are you actually going to leave Elain for me? Someone you chose out of love rather than obligation? Be truthful shadowsinger.”

Whatever he expected her to ask him, it wasn’t this. He- no he, he couldn’t make that decision now, not now, he needed more time to think, for the past minutes he hasn’t been in his right mind so how .. how could he possibly answer her without giving her false hopes.

“I…” and he looked into her pain filled eyes. He visibly shook as he felt her side of the bond. He was causing this pain?

“Y/n, you need to understand that I can’t- I can’t promise you that now. I don’t want to hurt you, but Elain she-“ he thought of choosing his words carefully “We have been together for a while now, and I can’t lie to you that I suddenly stopped loving her because the bond snapped. I am confused and I need more time-“

she gasped at that and god he wished he could make this easier, could prevent her from getting hurt

“-and I am aware that this is the most selfish I can get. Please, just, please don’t go there-“

her tears were already falling uncontrollably and he couldn’t hold back his own ones. He wished someone just ended him right then and there, so that he hadn’t had to see the agony in her eyes.

“-please allow me to just have more time so that I can sort this all out, I don’t want to hurt any of you, it is the last thing I want-“

“Do you actually hear yourself?” she whispered in a tone that made him want to stab himself for making her sound so helpless.

“Do you hear how selfish you are? I tell you what shadowsinger, if I can’t be your first choice I dont want to be a choice at all. I have loved you for so many years already, I have desperately wanted what you gave other women in your life, but if a bond is what gets you acting all caring towards me, then you can go to hell with that.”

What.

She loved him?

How come he never noticed her, how did he let it get to this point?

“… for how long?” he asked with widened eyes.

He was scared of the answer and judging by her reaction it wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Too long for me to count.”

She sounded almost resigned, almost like she just wanted to be put out of her misery.

She felt the stares of the others, so she looked behind Azriel and saw how everyone was holding their breaths and waiting for something to happen.

One piece of eyes, however, pierced through her, one pair of hurtful glassy eyes that made y/n happy and sad at the same time. But she couldn’t blame the woman, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame Azriel as well. They chose each other and she was the other woman. She tried to stay calm.

“Azriel… you have to forgive me for my outburst, but try to see it from my perspective. I know our situation isn’t quite fair, but we can’t choose fate. This is where it has brought us. Do yourself and everyone a favor and go back to your woman. She is waiting for you.”

It took everything in her to choose these words, to fight against her will, to fight against her desires, her want to sling her arms around him and claim him for herself, to show everyone that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him, to love and care for him how she had wanted to for so many years. To look him in the eyes and and declare her love to him and to finally feel that mouth of his on hers to test if it tasted how she had always imagined.

But she couldn’t.

While her words pierced through his soul, his grip on her loosened and she took this as her chance.

“I am sorry, I wish.. I just wish I could have been better, but- but y/n this doesn’t mean that you have to die for this.”

“I’d rather not live when my mate loves and nurtures another, Azriel, so please forgive me for-“

“But you don’t know what the future holds!”

She applauded his resilience and to be frank she didn’t expect this much fight for her from him, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Dont act like you would actually choose me Shadowsinger, you never did.”

And with that she broke the last piece of his soul that was still standing. Because, because she was right. He never chose her so why would she believe him? This beautiful, strong woman in front of him, who has carried so much hurt because of him, was he selfish for asking her to live?

He was numb. And he just wanted this anguish to end. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jolt, while he heard y/n talk again.

“Let go of me, let go of that little piece of me that has formed in the past minutes. It will be easier this way.” Y/n told him with resignation.

No he- he couldn’t do that, this couldn’t be the end for them. He wanted to step forward but the hand on his shoulder held him back, so he wanted to swat it off, because he had to get to his mate.

But another pair of hands was stopping his way to his mate, so now he got really irritated and tried to fight them off.

“Get your fucking hands off of me-“ and his vision suddenly became blurry as he heard his High Lord’s voice in his mind you need to let her go, she has already made a decision for herself. No, no! He was not letting her walk off to her death, he-

and while he tried to fight off every force trying to hold him back from her, he heard her distant voice Farewell, Azriel.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her blurry form walk off and disappear from his vision.

—————————

A/n: Whewww here is the second part! I never imagined I would go this direction or this far with the story but here we are 😭 First of all I want to thank everyone for your sweet reactions to the first part, this really means a lot to me, because this is my first time writing ever so thank you for your kind words <3 Secondly, I hope this was what you expected for the continuation of the story and that I didn’t leave you hanging. I am also open for any ideas and suggestions, so please don’t shy away from suggesting <3 The third part will probably come out a bit later than this as I have to focus on uni stuff again, but dont worry I wont leave this story as it is!

Again if you have some feedback, I would love to read what you think, and if you want to be added to the taglist just inform me :)

Oh and please tell me if the taglist worked!

Tag list:

@kingshitonly @phoenix666stuff @blackgirlmagicforever @dragonsandrinks @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @isa1b2h3 @curlyhairkk @jencole214 @willowpains @thestartitaness @romantasyreader28 @highladyofhogwarts @wrenisrad @minaaminaa8 @meritxellao @blepskies

[dilf-docs]

You're a Daydream, Stay A While

joel miller x younger!reader

summary: you're jackson's designated bartender. well, your dad is, but after the arrival of a new face in town, maybe the inspiration to finally step up to your obligations kicks in.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., oral (f. receiving), fingering, foreplay (mostly breasts), creampie, breeding kink (kinda), angst/comfort, insecure!joel (love touch etcetc starved), needy!joel, pov switch mostly joel (he's down bad as well), collected shitty puns from across the internet like thanos collected the infinity stones

word count: 6,136 words

side note: yk what's worst than simping for old men? simping for old men who don't exist. since y'all know, tlou II trailer dropped, which got me searching for joel's ***** to brace/prepare myself. umm so, why did no one tell me jackson!joel is the hottest thing ever? can´t wait to see pedro being senior citizen level of hot and dying (again) on his bday month! 😍 anyway, this is based on this request and well, yes! i too would flirt with an old ass if he looked like that™ hope u like it bc for some reason I'm not sure of it JSJDLKDFK also 400 followers GUYS STOP (pls don't) IT'S TOO MUCH (give me more) HELP!=="))??! (that i do need tysm)

The truth is simple: you hate working.

An apocalypse later, you figure there are more important things. But on Jackson, it feels like the world before fungus and violence, and everyone's got a role to play. As the daughter of Tipsy Bison's owner, yours is to help around the bar, something no matter how much your dad scolds you, you don't seem to care enough to even do a decent job.

Of course, it could be worse: patroling, keeping the cattle or crops, but not even then you're moved enough to give a shit about it.

Enter Joel Miller.

He, who made sure his arrival in Jackson didn't go unnoticed, making heads turn at it, not only because of his emotional reunion with Tommy, the little girl with him, or the fact that he left yet still returned. But also (mainly to you) because he was hot. Very hot.

Joel was the type of handsome that was rough in the edges, his closed-off demeanor and overall mystery adding to the thrill. His face seemed to be in a perpetual state of grief and darkness, sprinkled with grey and wrinkles, that in your opinion, didn't mean about age but just something that made his features all the more attractive.

It was a lie to say there weren't any boys your age in Jackson, good-looking too, yet you felt yourself gravitate towards Joel's musky presence. Yes, he could be your dad, but again, it's the apocalypse, and there are plenty of things to worry about than some age gap.

That doesn't stop the talking, anyway. It may be the end of the world, but gossip is just like cockroaches: it never dies.

The Tipsy Bison owner's daughter is in love with Tommy's older, much older, brother.

It didn't bother you, thought. You were pretty open about it, giving Jackson more to talk. Whenever Joel arrived at the bar, all heads would turn in your direction, ready for the shameless flirting and compliments you showered the oldest Miller in.

Maria had warned you, of course. She was the closest you had to a friend―sometimes being like a big sister, and she seemed to know what he was up to before, at the QZ in Boston, thanks to Tommy. Safe to say, you didn't care, despite listening to every word she had said.

Joel could break your heart, yet in a dying world, you weren't afraid to live.

Which is why now, as he enters the bar, you offer your dad to take his place.

"Go rest, I'll take this client" you offer with kindness, but he knows better. You're his daughter: in the end of the day, he's aware Joel is here, your shift in attitude warning him about Miller's incoming presence.

"If you will take this client, take the rest too" and before your dad can throw a speech about everyone being equal in Jackson, you're accepting to do the job properly, despite your grumbling and lack of interest to anyone who isn't Joel.

"Joel" you greet as soon as he sits, one of the many flirty smiles you have for him only adorning your face. He nods, avoiding your eyes that look at him like he could give you the world. He can't, so he keeps focused on the glass you're pouring in front of him.

"See? Didn't even need to ask. I already know" you seem proud of it, and the ghost of a smile brushes his lips.

"Well" he raises the glass, "it's an easy drink"

You feign hurt, "is that how you treat your bartender? I could poison your drink" Joel now truly smiles, knowing you could never, "or I could just strip you of your my favorite customer rights"

Now he feigns hurt, playing along for the first time in ever.

"Copied" he raises his arms in surrender, not before taking a gulp. You watch hypnotized the way his adam's apple bobs, the liquid sliding down his throat until it looses itself in the peak his two buttons undone give, of what looks to be a broad soft upper body, blessed with a patch of greying messy hair.

"Have they ever complimented you before, Joel?"

You. He refrains from answering, scared as to where little encouraging had led you and your shameless mouth to. He can feel the rest of the people behind him whispering, holes burning his neck. He can't let you win again: make him seem a pathetic excuse of a man who can't say no to a sweet doe-eyed delusional girl.

But you don't stop, despite his silence and the growing pit on your stomach.

"I'll take that as a no. Wanna know why?" he takes a much needed sip, "because all the good pick-up lines are taken"

This he can handle, Joel thinks. It's silly, proper of your age-

"But you aren't"

Ah, of course. Hasn't he learned?

You have the nerve to laugh, free as a wind chime softly carresed by the wind. His face burns, and even thought he's heard plenty of worse from you ("No pen, no paper but you still draw my attention", "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?" "You must be a dog person because you look fetching"), nothing had affected him this much.

Which is why he tries to pull the mask that had accompanied him since he first knew what grief was, so no feeling would ever made him weak again in a world hardened with pain. He's so good at it, wearing it like a second skin that doesn't scrub off no matter how much he wastes Jackson's water supply away, he sometimes sees the way your face is crestfallen at his indifference.

But you're young and stubborn, as so was he, before all the suffering and broken dreams.

So you won't listen to the past or doubts: the moment he stepped a foot into the community, you knew it was over, beating so loud you could barely hear your own breathing or him, when Maria introduced you and he shook your hand with his much bigger one.

"Joel" he'd said, with the sexiest voice you'd ever heard. His hands were covered in gloves, but despite that and the cold winter, the warmth that pooled from his palms had spread across your cheeks and chest. It had taken you a while to realize you hadn't said anything.

"Y/n" you hate the way your voice sounded small.

He nods, a way of saying Nice to meet you in his withdrawn nature. Then walks away, with Tommy and the girl, who looks curiously at you, Joel completely oblivious of how he's just turned your world upside down.

"Welcome to the museum!" you had said.

He tilted his head in confusion, Ellie's stare intense. "I thought this' Jackson?"

"This is a museum, because you're a work of art"

The tip of his ears instantly reddened, and the laugh Ellie was containing bursted like a bottle of champagne.

"Look at you, old man!" she laughed at him, making you wonder their relationship and how closer they seemed to be, despite initial assumptions. "Can't believe a girl gets the big, grumpy, scary Miller to blush like a boy"

You think that's the reason behind his apathy towards you, barely reacting to your pick-up lines or "subtle" flirting. It's probably not a reason as childish as that, but you'd rather be wrong than accept he may never feel the same way you do.

Because for a moment, despite the times you lived in, life made sense.

So no matter the stares, Joel's guarded posture and lack of reciprocation, you'll always be there, waiting: riding the roller coaster, enjoying the high.

The speed brings you closer, even if that means you'll crash.

Unfortunately for Joel, he knows who you are.

He's not even ten patrolling jobs closer to owning a bottle of whiskey of his own (he thinks earning it is bullshit, hasn't he done already enough?), so he's forced to go to the only place where he can get it.

And of course, there's you: a name and face he couldn't place upon his arrival, even if you had introduced yourself with your shitty line (which made him blush and Ellie laugh, so maybe it was a grudge what made him bent on removing you from his head) yet now is ingraned into his mind.

He doesn't know what's worst: your flirting or the fact that you seemed genuine about it. Or maybe it's the fact that he can tell you apart from the rest now, with a face full of life, always ready to give him your best smile and serve his glass the way he likes.

He needs to be the bigger person in this mess and stop it, Joel thinks. He isn't one to care about the talking, years of being brutal hiding any possible feeling that isn't rage. But then Ellie smuggled her way in his life, he found Tommy again, and Jackson was a reminder of old days when he would allow himself to feel anything else. So, in a way, he's become a bit susceptible to the talking behind his back.

How could he entertain a girl that could be his daughter? hushed, behind his stool. But then your fingers brush "accidentally", and his dick twitches between his legs when you bite your lip, pronouncing a Sorry like no one has said before: a tone so low and sultry, he's convinced wasn't even possible. Then you bat your eyelashes, and laugh (a sound both as delightful as addictive) before you're saying: "Don't mind them. They're just jealous you've got all my attention" and for a brief second, Joel let's himself believe he's special and worth of your time.

It's now a while since he's been there in Jackson, slowly settling into a life that doesn't involve running and fear.

If he thought your little crush was a phase, he's wrong.

You're still giving him time.

He's not supposed to get attached to you, Ellie, Tommy and Maria (future nephew in the way) more than enough. But then, when he's alone in a house too big for two people, Joel misses the way your loud voice fills the eerie silence that's followed him since death has been tracking his every step. Or how your interest on his life doesn't seem an act, listening to every word he says with tender eyes and soft smile, sometimes even making the effort of bringing things he's said before into new conversations; remembering. His heart flutter at your compliments, no matter how dumb they are, probably because he's not used to that stuff. As he lays awake at night, brain clogged with wounds too deep to bear, he finds comfort in things he has a feeling he's too old to get worked up about.

"Joel" you had said one day. God, he loved his name on your lips. The way you say it so sure, as if you'd follow him wherever he'd go.

He coughs. "Yeah?" and you smile, because at least he's looking in your direction.

"The chance of meeting a person like you is the only reason I talk to strangers"

The way your tone was straight, not flinching or faltering scared him. How something akin to sincerity dancing in the sparkles of your eyes, that now seemed to waver not out of whimsy but out of vulnerability, perfectly hidden in what could pass as another one of your attempts to woo him, but Joel's lived and seen enough to know it means much more.

So now, whenever there's darkness, he finds light on replaying those small moments on his head.

Dear God. What's he become? Ellie can't find out or he'll never hear the end of it.

But this things you don't know. All you see is a wall, and you're getting tired of hitting it.

The few words he spares your way are now a punishment you endure, cruel reminder that it's all you'll ever get.

Could you be in love forever? Could you even love?

It was a new feeling. Foreign, in fields of inexperience, but familiars in others. You may have never felt it, but the way your beat was steady when he showed up, worn out boots against the wood creaking under his weight, makes you believe when you know, you know.

"Hello, Joel" your father greets before you speak. Today, no matter how much you tried to shoo him away, he stayed.

You send a small smile his way, but he doesn't return it. You feel small, like a kid, undeserving of his attention. There's a bit of relief knowing your dad's there, so you let him take Joel for you.

There's always a first, and when both your dad and Joel notice, the latter feels a little sting on his chest.

But he's caused this, he thinks. It's what he wanted, after all: for you to stop chasing a man with scars in and out, bearing sins and blood where you had innocence and love.

"We're having a party tonight" he comments, making Joel quirk an eyebrow as he sips.

He gives you a brief glimpse, lost in the curve of your ass in those tight jeans, you giving him your back. He dryly scoffs on instinct at your deliberate choice to ignore him.

"Why's that?"

"My daughter's birthday"

He sees your body tense in the corner of his eye, wiping the glass in your hand with a bit too much force.

"Happy birthday" Joel speaks up, and you mutter a weak Thanks.

That's all he gets? No smile, no looking his way. Just a dry thank you that sounds more like something he would say.

Oh.

Was this how you felt?

"Time sure flies by" your dad sighs nostalgic, completely oblivious to the whole thing. "I feel if it was yesterday we came home from the hospital with you"

You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes, despite the obvious adoration for your dad.

"Don't get sappy on me" you sound embarrassed.

"I don't care. Twenty-one years later and an apocalypse in the mix, you're still my baby"

"Dad!" your cheeks heat up, and Joel almost forgets he's there, his body back to life when your face goes back to its normal color and happiness.

"Which means" your dad goes back to Joel, "you're invited"

Your laughter dies and Joel's chest tightens.

"You need to stop saying that. All Jackson is invited" you respond, making him flinch. The bite is obvious.

You're not special, is what you try to say in between lines.

"I'll be there" tone daring, and your father feels something has shifted in the air.

You don't answer after that. What are you supposed to say? Don't come? I hate you for making me feel small? He doesn't owe you anything, but it still hurts.

"It's at seven" there's a sharp edge to your tone when looking at him.

"I'll be there" he repeats, still, but it sounds more like who he really is trying to convince is himself.

Joel is there, as promised. You don't know why, but after what happened earlier, for the first time ever, seeing him brings you dread.

He catches you in a corner, sipping on some drink.

"Hi" it's soft, the tone new, and it doesn't help the pit in your stomach.

"Hey"

"Why are you here?" he's curious., "ain't this supposed to be your party?"

It's funny, really. The way everyone else mingles around you, laugh and talk, yet here you are, bitter inside the shadows of your corner.

You raise your glass and chuckle dryly. "Well, cheers to that"

"You shouldn't be here" he insists, and you roll your eyes. Then, his voice goes soft. "Is... Is this because of me?"

You scoff, venom falling out of your bitter laugh. "Wow, big ego you got there. Newsflash: the world doesn't revolve around you"

He's so used to your pinning, it's hard to bear the change.

"I wasn't saying that, I just-"

"Please don't" you cut him off. "Don't ruin my birthday more than you already have, thanks"

You decide to walk away, but Joel won't let you.

"I don't want that" he insists, blocking your steps. "I want you to be happy"

"Don't bullshit me" your tone is icy, cutting like daggers. "Please, leave me alone"

"Not until you're fine"

You scoff at his incomprehensible behavior.

"Oh, now you care? Drop the act; you're just angry I'm not stroking your ego anymore like a lovesick puppy. Truth is, you don't owe me anything, Joel"

He looks like you've slapped him across his face.

"I know" his voice darkens, filled with tension. "But-"

You get tired at Joel's sudden insistence, overwhelming you with confusion. This is the same guy that has uttered less than fifty words your way, indifferent to your flirting and special treatment. Of course, it may have been a little silly of you to expect so much from a guy older even than your dad, but his apathy was borderline rude, and that you can't excuse. Or understand. Or let go.

So yes, you're being petty. And yes, it also feels good to have him begging to have your attention, the roles reversed.

"But what, Joel? Is there anything you can say, really? It's not that serious" you empty the glass in a chug, feeling dizzy. "Live a little and stop being so obssesed with me"

He shoots you a look hard to decipher. There is hurt: from all the emotions available, he chose the one thing you didn't think he'd be capable of feeling. Hell, he looked rather more like the cause than the affected on the other end. But then auburn fires flash behind his eyes, and the circle repeats itself, the danger and rage Maria warned you about.

"Obssesed with you?" his eyes carry a wild light in them. "If anyone is obssesed, well, it ain't me"

"I need air" you push past him, done with his shit.

"I'm sorry-"

The cold wind hits your face as you storm outside the bar. Is this a lesson to be learnt? Was this how heartbreak felt? The only thing you know is you need to get the farthest you can, even if your footsteps feel heavy with the weight of the snowed streets and frigidness of your heart.

"Y/n, wait!"

You turn around. Unbelievable: Joel Miller is running after you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?!" you shout, "why can't you just leave me alone?!"

"Because I-"

"There's nothing for you to say" you counter, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "If this is some sort of guilt thing, I need you to let it go. What I did- I mean, you should probably forget about the whole thing. It's my fault, and I'm sorry my reaction is immature and what not, but I should've known to read the signs. You're simply not interested in a girl who hasn't truly lived or known what pain is"

After you confession, you hear a laugh. You raise your eyes, anger and hurt flashing in tears.

"And you have the nerve to fucking laugh?! Fuck you, Joel" you want to walk away to save yourself from further embarrasment yet your feet seem to be stuck.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not interested?" you roll your eyes, but he pins you by your shoulders, as if knowing you'd walk away. "Listen, I need you to know somethin': I'm not who you think I am"

"I don't care" you interrupt, defiant. "You're right, I don't know who you are. But I want to. Who you where outside this walls... It doesn't matter, not to me. You did what you had to do to survive, and that brought you here. Jackson... think of it as a second chance. You can still be happy, you know?"

With me, dies in your throat, not wanting to give more of yourself away.

"It's better this way" Joel insists, "hell, you'll even thank me one day. There's plenty of young boys here who'd love to be with you, trust me"

"I don't want them, Joel. What's so hard to understand?" what makes you get closer to him, you don't know, but in a sudden rush of force, you find the courage to look at him, body standing still as you exhale, fears condense in the air. "I only want you"

"You don't" you should roll your eyes again at his stubborn character, but his voice comes out so small, almost as if resignated, that it tugs your chest.

"I do" you reply firmly, cupping his cheek with tender care. He leans in your touch, despite it revealing his true desires when it comes to you.

"Why me?" Joel whispers, bigger hand covering yours, as to prove it's real and the warmth isn't a joke. "Why not a younger, charmin', happy boy your age? Why a broken violent older man?"

His voice breaks after the admission, quietly seeping into heavy silence that falls like the snowflakes in his hair.

"Joel" you call his name softly, making those sad brown eyes look at you. You gulp, nervous at the storm of emotions inside them, "is it so hard to believe you can be loved?"

Your words make him falter, his grip loosing strength as he tumbles back.

"Love?" he repeats with disbelief, as if you'd just say some kind of tale. "There isn't love in this world left for me. Men like me don't deserve good things, especially if they comin' from a pretty girl as yourself"

You shouldn't be blushing at times like this, but the maroon splash on your cheeks betrays you, warm as the drink from before and red as the dim lights casted by Jackson's Christmas tree in the middle of the town.

"Joel" you call again, and he's surprised you're still there. That you hadn't turn your back on him, or looked into his eyes and saw the monster in him, running away to never come back.

"If you let me" you hold his hands to steady him even as they tremble, "I could"

I could love you.

The promise hangs unspoken in the air, the wind now barely above a humming.

"You'd take me" his voice falters, "with all I've done, knowing I've hurted people?" Killed people, but he can't bring himself to say it when you look at him like that: like he could learn to love you.

"Yes" your voice doesn't waver a bit, "every part of you"

"And you'd take me knowin' that I'm years ahead in hurt, age and life?"

"Yes, Joel" you giggle. "Are you making me do an exam on your life? Because that's not fair, you've barely spoken to me, or anyone else for the matter!"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"I s'ppose life ain't fair, sometimes"

"But it could be" the moonlight of the now clear sky shines over your eyes, and Joel is sure that the stars would be jealous.

"It could" he repeats, as to believe it himself.

Silence settles again, but it doesn't feel suffocating anymore.

"You know, we should probably get inside"

You dissmiss his words. "Nobody has even noticed we're gone"

"What about the cake?"

Your chest feels warm at his concern. He may not believe it, but the old-world Joel, the one who was a contractor in Texas and had a daughter, is still there, somewhere.

"Jackson is real, but miracles not" you laugh, "we don't have those. The party really is just an excuse for dad to drink with his friends during labor hours"

"And yours?" Joel inquires, "where your friends at?"

"Left early" then you lean to his ear, hot where skin meets cold. "I told them to"

He tries, but all words die on his throat.

"Wanna know why I did it?" your fingers wander to his tense jawline, tracing your sharp nails until they descent to his neck, sprinkled with loose hairs from his beard.

"Why?" voice barely above a whisper, his cock painfully hard between his legs. That you don't know: just the glint of dark on his hazel eyes.

"Why don't we find out?" and your hand takes his to lead the way. When he doesn't move, you try other way.

"I'm the birthday girl" you tease softly, but your orbs sparkle with something akin to dangerous. "You better make it up to me"

You've walked this road so many times, yet it's never felt longer.

The house is alone, you'd say, and Joel followed you because well, he'd follow you anywhere. He notices you said 'house', an indicator you still live with your parents. He wonders if you're embarrased, but by the way you smile, inviting him inside, to a part of you intimate and unknown until today, he knows he's chosen right.

When you open the door, cold creeps in through the cracks of warmth. You lead the way to your room, and once you're inside, he thinks it's very you.

"Very me?" you giggle, taking a seat in the bed. Joel watches from the doorframe, his bulky arms crossed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's cute" and you think it's not a frequent word in his vocabulary, thanks to the pink dusting his cheeks.

"I'm cute?" you repeat delighted, and the shade of pink turns darker.

He just nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Joel" you call, then pat the spot next to you "why are you so far away? Are you scared?"

He grumbles something under his breath before walking over to where you showed. The bed creaks under his weight, and now that he's closer, you hear the wavering beat of his heart and ragged breaths.

"You are scared" you repeat, a statement now. He thinks you're mocking him, until your sure hand grabs his. "It's okay"

Before he can add on that, your face is too close, your breath tickling over his nose. He feels the moist of your lips press over the brigde of it, with a tenderness that brings ghosts of tears he has since long shade to his eyes.

Then they smoothly move to catch him in a kiss. He lets out a shaky gasp against your mouth, letting himself loose on the whiskey drops inside, an intoxicating mix against his own. His hands find your waist, gripping the soft skin with calloused fingers, refusing to leave it. He squeezes your curves while infiltrating your mouth with his tongue, until he pulls to breath, making you whine.

"Fuck, sweetheart" he nips your lower lip, "ain't you the sweetest thin' to ever exist?"

The kiss gets more heated, his hands now traveling to your face as they hold onto you for support, rough digits meeting peachy skin. Just the mere act of kissing makes him groan against you, too old to be shameful about the needy sounds coming out of his mouth.

"Joel" you whimper his name. He stops and takes the time to bore his gaze over your flushed face, your own dazed eyes mirroring his.

His fingers find their way to your hips again, pulling you closer. The moment caughts you and the bed off guard, the furniture creaking while your eyes move to the hardness visible on his worn-out jeans. You move your head to free your mouth to talk, but that doesn't stop Joel, who hungrily kisses the trace of your jaw and the road starting in your neck and finishing on your collarbones.

"Is that because of me?" Joel whines against your lips, yet you can't stop staring at the very big silhouette. "Oh, happy birthday to me"

Joel whines when you tear way from him, his hands loosing grasp on your body. You move up against the headboard, spreading your legs for him to put himself in between them.

You take off your clothes, and his eyes don't leave your body as if it's a show for him. He can drool at the sight of your breasts, rosy skin waiting for his tongue and teeth to sink on it. He leans closer, eyes looming at moles he could beg to kiss.

Now you, your expectant eyes plea. Joel's posture adquires a guarded air, as he grows self-conscious.

"Stop staring at me like that" he nervously chuckles.

"Is there something wrong?" your sweet voice inquires, laced with concern. He gulps, kind of afraid and embarrased of what you would say.

"I'm..." his voice comes out strained, "I just-"

His mind briefly wanders to Tess, how she never said anything, rather busy seeking the warmth of his body without commenting about it. The act mattered over the feelings, which where in her eyes but not his heart. But now, his heart beats in a different sound, one where he wishes you won't judge a body crossed with the roughness of scars yet the softness of extra weight.

"M' just warnin' you, doll" the nickname brings butterflies in your stomach, "this body's seen better days"

He removes the layers of clothing: flannel first, and then tight white long sleeved shirt. He's left in his jeans, unbuckling his belt that falls to the floor with a thud. His breathing turns to panting, afraid to meet you in the eye.

"Joel" you repeat his name, bringing him back to reality. "Look at me"

He's killed people, faced raiders as much as infected, and other countless things, so he dares himself to look up, breath hitching when he finds you eating him with your eyes.

"Fuck, Joel. I didn't know you were so pretty under those dirty ass flannels"

You knew he'd be handsome; that's literally the reason why you chose to flirt with him. But now that he's completely stripped off his layers of warm clothing, it's even better. You can't stop your hungry eyes from roaming his body, lingering on the soft swell of his stomach, hanging over the waistband of his underwear. A scar that looks deep is near his belly button, and you wonder if he'll ever tell you why. There's a patch of hair over his soft chest your tongue wants to lick. And of course, his strong arms packed with broad shoulders that make you want to scream.

"Stop lying" he chastises, but there's a smile adorning his features. A true smile on Joel fucking Miller's face. What a rare sight; you need to see it more.

"W-where your condoms?" he asks, nervous.

That catches you off guard, too busy cooing over how a man so big and sturdy could fold that easily, looking and sounding small.

"I'm not sure. I mean, maybe on my parents room but I-"

You cut yourself. Joel's concerned gaze finds you. "Yes?"

"I want you, Joel" the intensity of your stare terrifies him. "All of you"

He falls closer to you, forehead against your own. He can't bring himself to look at you, so he closes his eyes and dares to ask:

"Are you sure you want this?"

Are you sure you want me?

"Don't you trust me?" you're all smiles, even if your voice is soft. "I want you. I truly do"

He's hiding his face into your shoulder until you feel his lips pressing against your now bare skin, making you shiver.

"Where you want me, birthday girl?" he says between kisses. "Tell me, sweetheart. I'm all ears"

"Please, Joel" you unhook your bra, letting your breasts free. His lips begin to kiss his way to your breasts, tongue teasing the skin before nipping it. Joel's teeth catch the hardened nipple, grazing it lightly.

"S'pretty" he sounds drunk, and you love the way he looses himself in the pleasure haze.

He continues kissing your breasts before positioning himself right so he can hover above you. The kisses turn wet and sloppier, as if all his energy was to be spent into the rosy skin.

"Can I taste you, sweetheart?" he lowers his head to your entrance, already soaking wet with your arousal. "Fuck me, if this ain't a meal"

"The best in all Jackson" you joke, but the laugh dies in your throat when Joel's nose ghosts over your throbbing pussy.

"I- fuck, Joel" you moan when he licks your folds, his tongue an expert. For a brief moment, you think of who came before you, and if this is what they got or you're getting the best version. His saliva mixes with your dripping juices, making you whine as his tongue licks your swollen folds. His fingers then slowly inserted themselves inside at the same time, moving in and out of your puffy walls. His groans mix with the sound of your whines and the furniture creaking, the sounds obscene and feeling so far from the outside world.

"You're so good at this, baby" his sweat mixes with the blush on his face because of the nickname, nose pressed against your clit as he keeps up the ministrations. "D-don't stop"

"This pussy's so pretty" he says, "and s'only for me, yeah?"

"Yes, Joel. Only yours" you whine, your orgasm approaching. All of your body feels on fire, every touch inching the burn in your stomach closer as his head remains between your legs, tongue insatiable. You come all over his face, your hands digging into his damp locks as you scream his name to the air.

Joel raises his head to capture your lips on a wet kiss, the taste of you inside your mouth and dripping from his coated beard.

"Ain't you sweet" you open your legs further. "You're such a tease, sweetheart. Gon'be the death of me"

"I just like seeing you like this" you admit.

"Means?"

"So fucking needy"

A borderline primal grumble births from his throat. "You've a filthy mouth on you, sweetheart" he chuckles while wrapping your legs around his waist and lining himself up. Joel's tip runs up and down your folds, grazing your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"And you're s'fuckin' tight" he mumbles under his breath. You gasp for air as you try to adjust yourself to the huge size of his girth, afraid you bit more than what you can chew. His pace starts slow but gradually picks up a rougher and quicker pace. Joel grunts between thrusts, yet takes his time to make sure his lips kiss every mole sprinkled across your face and chest, his favorite just above your left eyebrow.

"I want ya' to come first, like a present" blush crosses through his face again. He leaves teasing kisses against your face, as you wail, finally hitting you.

"I'll wait for you" you whisper, your hips aiding you to sustain his sloppy thrusts, "want you to come too. Inside"

You feel his softening dick twitch, suddenly rock hard again. Oh, so he was into that.

"Don't worry, I have a pill" you explain. "So go ahead, pretty boy. Show me if the size matches the talk"

"Bet" his voice acquires a darkness to it. "Gonna fill you with all of it, until you milk my cock dry. Gonna fill this pretty pussy until it's full of my seed and it leaks for days"

He follows right after, groaning into your shoulder, where he bits the skin. His tongue wets the area, to relief the pain, yet you like it. Thick ropes of cum paint your puffy heat creamy, Joel panting as he stares down at you.

"What?" you chuckle.

Maybe Jackson was a safe haven. Heaven incarnate. Maybe second chances were real, and for the first time in years, he feels safe.

"I don't deserve you" he voices his thoughts, forehead pressed against yours as he tries to even his breathing, yet each breath seems more labored than the last.

Your hands travel to his face, cupping it with tender hands. He leans on the touch, because despite his crimes and past dawning upon him, he's a man: one seeking comfort on a pretty face and anything that'll remind him of distant emotions that can still exist despite what the world has become. Joel's hands travel to yours, thumb brushing skin free of scars and pain. He envies and loves the beauty in your face, eyes full of something akin to affection looking back, blurring the pain mirrored on his own. You kiss him again, and he can feel the emotions in the tip of your tongue.

"You're wrong" your voice holds a quiet determination. Time was a precious gift, but in Jackson, time could be, and the resolve longing tells him you'll be there. I'm not going anywhere, Joel. Not without you. "We all deserve love, Joel"

Joel Miller is a man who finds it hard to trust, yet, when he takes a look at your eyes―warm as coffee, he allows himself to believe in you.

[3amfanfiction]

For the worms: Johnny prescribing to the idea “sharing is caring” when his newest girlfriend makes it past the two months mark (something previously thought impossible), don’t worry guys, it’s not “my girlfriend” she’s “our girlfriend”

Oh Temp you know the way to my heart. I love a good 'our girlfriend' moment. There's something so delicious about the entitlement of it, it lends a certain flavor that tickles my fancy. poly 141 x fem!reader. 7k words about (unknowingly) being the team's girlfriend. This is nothing but smut, enjoy!

~~~~

He knew you were the one the first time he met you.

You got him, in ways no one else ever had. You got his energy, his excitement, his need for stimulation. He knew he could be a lot but he also knew he'd never been too much. He'd just been waiting for someone like you.

He never listened when the guys wanted to dog on him saying no one would put up for long with how much he talked. He was a chatty guy, okay? He had a lot of thoughts running through his head and he wanted to share them with people. You never knew which thoughts were going to be strokes of genius until they're spoken after all.

And while he would talk about anything under the sun, he talked about his team most of all. Probably more than he should if he was being completely honest but it was hard not to talk about the people he loved. He was talking about you to them just as much after all. The two halves of his life overlapping as often as he could make them.

But you loved it. You loved him. It was obvious every time you told him to make sure he ate lunch as he was headed out the door, lunch bag swinging from his hand, bursting with goodies you'd packed up the night before. Every time you texted him first, took his trash with yours to throw away, brushed your hand down his arm in greeting, always winding up with your fingers tangled together as he pulled you in for a kiss. Your whole existence showed how much you loved him.

It was fate. It was perfect. It was another sign it was meant to be that it was your 2-month anniversary when you broke the news to him as you were walking him to the door one morning. He'd stayed over the night before because he knew he was going to be working late tonight so you both celebrated one day early. And what a celebration it had been. He'd stolen his three kisses at the door and was getting ready to step over the threshold when he realized just how big your heart was and the fact that you truly were listening whenever he spoke.

"Tell your team I said hi," you said, smiling sweetly up at him, sleep shirt rumpled and hair a gorgeous mess, "there's extra muffins for everyone in your bag."

Oh.

He hadn't realized—but that was okay—he should've noticed—poor lass, had he not been holding up his side of the relationship? The part where you support your partner and their needs and wants? He hadn't seen what you wanted but he understood now. You'd made your feelings known and who was he to stand in the way?

Beaming down at you he peppered your face with kisses, holding your cheeks firmly between his wide palms. Words broken up with the showering of kisses, "I'll tell them love, don't you worry—I'll tell them."

Best anniversary ever.

—

You were pleased with how your day had gone. You'd spent it picking up the house, doing a grocery run, you spent a good few hours on your hobby, and started on a dinner that would get you through lunches for the rest of the week. Your day left you feeling good so you threw on your comfiest t-shirt and sleep shorts combo and camped out on the sofa while dinner finished in the oven.

It startled you when you heard a key being inserted into your lock but you were reassured when you heard Johnny's voice on the other end. You weren't sure how he managed to talk his way into getting a key to your house so quickly but he had a way of lovingly worming his way into any opening you left. He had nearly convinced you to move in with him just last week before you realized what he was doing and put a stop to it. The man had a golden tongue.

In more ways than one.

You popped up over the couch to say hi when you were met with more than just your boyfriend. Another person stood looming at his back, dwarfing the man who made you feel small. You weren't sure what face you were making as you looked up at them, unsure of what was going on but not immediately worried. Johnny had told you enough stories that you were able to clock the man standing with him almost immediately.

"Love, this is Simon."

Right on the money.

"He's come for dinner. The other two were jealous they were gonna miss out on your cooking but they had prior plans. Just know they'd be here if they could."

What? Why was he making it sound like a hallmark moment? You tilted your chin up for a kiss as he came over to the couch, holding still while he cupped your face and pressed his hungry mouth to yours. You pulled away abashed at the racy kiss in front of company. Putting your hand to Johnny's face when it was clear he was coming in for a second go you addressed them both.

"I didn't realize either of you were coming for dinner." Your voice dropped to a whisper, "Johnny! I'm not even dressed."

"You look perfect love," he assured, looking over your outfit. "Besides, it's only Simon. And I've seen you in less. Much less." He leered at you with a smarmy smile and you couldn't help but laugh. He had a point, and you were decent, just a little rattier than you'd prefer when meeting someone for the first time. Hopefully Simon wouldn't hold it against you.

You climbed off the couch and went to greet your guest before moving to the kitchen, calling out to Johnny to set the table and get drinks ready. You hadn't planned on feeding anyone other than yourself tonight but with a creative side dish or two you had enough to go around. You'd just need to find something else for lunch but that was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight you had people to feed and you wouldn't let them go hungry.

By the time dinner was over you had a new appreciation for your boyfriend's teammate. While not particularly verbose he wasn't shy about making his opinions known. And his opinions seemed to be overwhelmingly positive.

"That was the best meal I've had in ages, dove."

You felt your cheeks heat as you smiled at him, "Thank you, Simon. It's one of my favorite dishes, I'm glad you liked it."

You looked over to see Johnny beaming as he looked back and forth between the two of you, happy as a clam to see you getting along so well. He looked like he was mentally patting himself on the back at the successful dinner. Like he had orchestrated something that was finally coming to fruition. It would be worrying if you didn't know your boyfriends penchant for good naturedly dipping his fingers into things. Nothing to do but wait and see what scheme he was cooking up in his brain.

—

You had piled the last dish into the sink when Johnny came up and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing along your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine at the unexpected touch, goosebumps popping up all along your arms before you relaxed back into him.

He was warm—heat radiating off him in waves as he pulled you to stand in front of him, turned to face him with a smile. He grinned back at you, overjoyed at having your attention.

Raising your arms you looped them around his neck, pressing close as you leaned up for a proper kiss. For all that he had sprung company on you, you were happy to see him and you had missed him today. You'd quickly found that he carved a niche out for himself, wiggling into your psyche like he belonged and conforming it around him. Now when he was gone you were left staring at an empty hole that used to be filled.

Your thoughts were pleasantly scattered, a warm contented haze settled over your mind when you felt another body slide up behind you.

You yanked your head away from Johnny only for the back of it to thud against Simon's shoulder, him penning you in between the two of them. Your felt a little like those sheep you saw in videos, held in place by a machine while they were manipulated to their owners liking. You tilted your head with a frown, trying to push back on him or away from Johnny, whichever would get you a little bit of space.

"What are you doing?"

You froze as one thick arm curled around your waist, big hand spread wide over the pudge of your stomach while the other snaked its way up your torso. He gripped your chin firmly from behind, moving you to face Johnny once more.

"Don't stop now, it was just getting good."

Johnny didn't hesitate for a moment to dive back down and press his lips to yours once more, moaning into your mouth and humping his hips forward subconsciously. You tried to turn your head to catch your breath but Simon kept you still, holding you trapped in the heady spill of Johnny's tongue and lips as they devoured yours.

You were limp by the time he eventually pulled back, a panting mess with spit-slicked lips and blown-out eyes. You looked up at him with your mind reeling until you felt another set of lips making their home on the column of your neck.

You flinched . . . or you tried to. You didn't get far with how Simon was pinning you back against his body. You turned worried eyes up towards Johnny, sure this was about to set him off, maybe start an argument about boundaries and how you were with him, Simon wasn't allowed to swan in and start taking liberties for himself.

Instead what you saw was Johnny's pupils eclipsing his irises as he strove to burn the image into his retinas. Greedy want was present in every line of his face as he watched his teammate kiss along his girlfriend's neck. That look mixed in with the shock of teeth Simon had just introduced caused you to let out a ragged gasp, filling the quiet kitchen air with your sound.

"Fuck LT," Johnny croaked, "Just like that."

"Johnny, what—" your voice wobbled as you squirmed in place—Simon finding every sensitive spot along your neck with ease. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, lass. When you told me this morning . . . I hadn't realized this was something you were wanting. I didn't see it." He looked contritely down at you, eyes flickering over to where Simon was pressing hot, wet kisses just behind your ear before darting back to yours, "But we're here now. All of us—as a team."

"I don't understand, I never said I wanted thi-IS." You ended on a yelp as the man at your back took the tip of your ear between his teeth and pinched. You swatted back at him, pushing against his forehead as he chuckled. It was almsot mean, like he liked the sound of your squeal.

"Settle down," he smirked, releasing your ear after a moment, holding it long enough to drive home that he was releasing you of his own will. "no need to cause a commotion. Like he said, we're here now."

The to stay was heavily implied by the weight of his words.

Before you knew it Johnny had leaned down once more, taking your mouth in his while Simon made headway on covering every inch of your neck with his teeth and tongue. It was a whirlwind. Groping hands slid under clothing to pull them off while trailing kisses on every new bit of cleared skin as they urged you to the bedroom. By the time you were sprawled back on the center of the mattress you'd been stripped as bare as the day you were born. Limbs akimbo. Chest heaving with gasped breaths. Unsure how you ended up here.

You watched the two men finish removing the last of their clothes before they crawled in with you, bodies pressing a wash of hot skin to yours, causing you to arch into the sensation. Simon took possession of your mouth while Johnny dove headfirst between your legs.

Your gasp at the first long stroke of his tongue along your seam was all the opening Simon needed. Caught between the double sensation of tongues, it was no surprise you quickly became a panting mess. You attempted to keep your hips from hitching but it was a losing battle, your body's instinctive reaction to get closer to the source of euphoria.

Meanwhile Simon had coaxed your tongue into his mouth and was nibbling and sucking on it in turns, your jaw cradled in his wide palm, tilting you exactly as he wanted. When you pulled your tongue back into your own mouth he took that as leave to begin tracing your lips with the point of his, dipping just inside to take sips at your mouth. Acting as if you were something to be savored. Enjoyed.

He reached down to pinch at your nipples, tugging them into hard peaks only to soothe them with his thumb when you complained. The first time you pulled away with a yip he pressed apologizing kisses down your neck and collar, ending at the abused nipple to take it into his mouth. He laved the sensitive flesh, whispering sweet words into your soft skin.

"Sorry, pretty girl, didn't mean to be so rough." Kisses and light nips with his teeth. How were his kisses so good? "We'll start gentle, yeah? Only soft touches for you tonight."

Moving back up to your mouth once more, he held you still while Johnny had you moaning, keeping your mouth fused to his, not letting you pull away for a single breath. You had to suffice yourself with stealing air when you could, an endless battle between your need to breathe and Simon's consuming kisses. You were lightheaded and woozy by the time you were able to properly pull away.

Drinking down greedy gasps of oxygen—anything to stop your swirling head. You looked down your body to see Johnny perched between your thighs, his bright blue eyes visible as he looked up at you from the cradle of your hips, paused to watch the two of you with adoration. You reached a free hand down to grab his hair, holding him in place and grinding your cunt against his mouth. Your fist clenched tightly as he went back to eating with gusto.

It was impossible for you to stay still, continuously squirming and humping your hips up into his face, chasing your high. Simon reached down and pressed a firm hand to your pelvis, pinning you in place.

"Don't you know how to keep our girl still? Do you let her squirm like this whenever I'm not here?" At Johnny's broken protest he scoffed, "Christ, I knew you needed direction, Johnny boy, but I never realized it was this bad."

Johnny muffled his dissenting keen into your wet heat at his words, humping down onto the mattress like he was the one unable to stay still. Simon looked at you and grinned meanly.

"Well, doll? How about it? Does he give you what you need or does he let you walk all over him?"

You were unable to do anything but shake your head in negation, no verbal response forthcoming. Simon turned to look down at Johnny once more.

"Well? Do I need to show you how to do it properly?" He cocked an eyebrow as he looked down his nose when Johnny drew back from your warmth, separating to draw in a few deep breaths, "It doesn't look like you know what you're doing down there." Simon reached down and palmed the back of Johnny's head, pushing him further into your cunt. "Get a good taste. I wanna see drool dripping down your chin by the time you're done. You should have slick up to your ears and she should be drenched down to the bedsheets." He ignored both of your moans, "Didn't realize I'd have to order you around in the bedroom too, just an unruly little pup, aren't you?"

The constant flow of words from his lieutenant only caused Johnny to become more fervored. Licking into you with abandon, he shifted to free one hand, moving up to press two fingers all the way to the knuckles in one fell swoop. Your wetness ensuring he slid in with no difficulties, a smooth glide with only the stretch to betray the insertion.

You couldn't help the moan that slipped out. A great climbing thing that started deep in your chest and worked its way out of your throat with a rumble. It was the work of moments for you to be right on the edge standing at the precipice, looking down onto your first orgasm of the night.

"There we go Johnny, you've got it now. That's just what she needed, huh? Needed a couple of fingers stuck up into her, something to squeeze. We can help her out with that."

Listening to Simon continue to rumble filth into the air and watching him lean down to press his mouth to Johnny's ear, whispering murmured words you couldn't make out was all you needed for that final push.

The heat that had been steadily building coalesced in your lower back and thighs, the visual of the two of them all the spark you needed to set it alight. Your toes curled and your back arched as you tried to get closer to where Johnny was sucking on your clit with pursed lips. A sobbed Johnny! all you were able to verbalize through the onslaught.

Coming back to yourself you were met with Johnny and Simon watching you with avarice, greedy for every expression that crossed your face. You focused on Johnny and saw an absolutely drenched face. He heard what Simon had said about slick from ear to ear and had made sure to accomplish it. Order received and all that. You would be mortified if you didn't feel so good.

You were limp as they moved to rearrange you, Simon sliding in behind your back as Johnny moved to kneel between your thighs, hard cock bobbing in the air. You felt Simon's wet head kissing the small of your back and tried to grind back—give him some sort of satisfaction in this ménage à trois you had happening.

He reached down to snag your hips, stilling you and pressing his mouth directly to your ear, hot air brushing the sensitive skin as he murmured, "None of that now. My turn will be later, we're focusing on Johnny this time."

And focus on Johnny you did. He shuffled himself forward, wasting no time in sinking home into your wet heat. Dual groans punched out of both of your chests as he fully seated himself in one go. You panted—breathing through the stretch as he did the same, trying to stop himself from reaching the finish line prematurely.

Simon didn't wait for you to regain your composure, he held two fingers up to your mouth tapping on your lower lip, "Suck pet," before he dragged them down to your clit, circling the puffy bundle of nerves still sensitive from Johnny's prior ministrations. He picked up a steady rhythm as Johnny gave the first tentative thrust. You couldn't help but clench down, enjoying the hitched moan it pulled out of him.

He recovered quickly and set out to pull those same moans from you, wanting every sound that dripped from your lips. He was relentless in his chase, making sure to use all the tips and tricks he'd picked up over the last couple of months to wring out every iota of satisfaction he could. He leaned forward, pinning Simon's hand between your bodies.

"Tell us how it feels, love," he panted into your mouth, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. "How good is my cock making you feel?"

Try as you might, you couldn't do more than chant his name, a steady stream of Johnny falling from your tongue. He was consuming your every thought, everything bound up in a tangled snarl that was added to with each slick glide of his cock.

Simon pulled his fingers away from your clit but didn't move his hand, keeping it pinned as he reached further down to do something to Johnny. All you were witness to was the way his eyes went wide and unfocused, a little furrow making its appearance on his brow as he paused and pressed into Simon's hand. He let out a sharp yip at whatever Simon was doing before finally moving back, giving the other man room to return to strumming your clit unimpeded.

You were caught between the push and pull of the two of them. Simon resting at your back to whisper lewd words directly into your brain while Johnny made his home inside of you, carving out a space that would always remember him.

It was overwhelming.

You normally turned into a pile of putty with only Johnny's hands on you. Now that there were two of them? You felt like you never knew where the next touch would come from. You would only just find a way to breathe with the circling of your clit for hands to suddenly make their appearance at your nipples. Come to terms with fingers at your nipples just to feel teeth latch onto your neck. They kept you guessing with each movement.

Johnny was doing an admirable job of building you towards your next peak, soft rolls of his hips stroking every sensitive spot inside of you, but apparently it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Hitch her hips up, Johnny. I want you fucking her like you mean it." He stared Johnny down, "If you can't put your back into it then I can relieve you."

"I know how to do it," Johnny sniped back, "Don't forget, I've been in her bed a lot longer than you have." You jolted, unused to having such a harsh tone in your house, let alone in your bed.

Simon saw your jerk and quipped back, "Behave, pup. I won't have you barking and growling around our girl." Simon slid out from behind you, laying you gently back on the pillows with one lingering kiss before coming around to Johnny's side. "Now are you going to listen to what I say or do you need me to step in?"

Johnny chewed on his words, still slowly pumping into you with soft propels of his hips. For a moment you were certain he was going to push back, to dig his feet in and argue with every word that came out of Simon's mouth. Your boyfriend was sweet, but not exactly levelheaded. It surprised you when he came to a decision and listened to what he was being told. You'd have to sneak aside later and get tips and tricks from Simon before he left. Anything to make your life a little easier.

Taking your hips he stuffed a pillow underneath, angling you upwards as he slid back inside. Your matching moans at the new position caused something almost gleeful to cross Simon's expression.

"There we go, I knew you had it in you to mind. You just needed someone bigger to put you in your place, didn't you?"

Johnny had no rebuttal beyond the stuttering of his hips at the comment, swallowing heavily before resuming his rhythm. The steady thwaps filled the humid air of the bedroom, playing background to your whines, Johnny's harsh pants and Simon's filth.

"There we go, just like that," he murmured, voice low and soft, "You're taking it so well sweetheart, is our boy doing a good job for you?"

"Yes," you panted, eager to agree to anything as long as they didn't stop, "So good."

"You hear that Johnny? Said you're doing a good job."

Johnny outright whimpered at the praise, hips stuttering and breath catching in his throat. Simon leaned over Johnny's shoulder and pressed his lips right against his ear. You watched his jaw move as he spoke—voice too low to make out any of the words. Johnny's face was a rictus of pleading pleasure. His expression frozen except for small twitches of his eyebrows, gaze shuttered and staring at your face as he panted. He lasted a few more thrusts before burying himself deeply with a low cry.

Simon laughed scornfully, "Ah poor Johnny boy, did you come already?" He listened to Johnny's overstimulated whine as he grabbed his hips and kept Johnny pushing into you, the wet squelch only proving that he was fucking his spend deeper inside. "Well I don't care if it's too much. You came before our girl, we can't have that." He gave a mean smile, "you're gonna keep fucking her until I tell you to quit."

"I—I can't Simon," Johnny panted, overstimulated nerves causing his muscles to spasm and twitch. "I can't go anymore."

"You want to stop? Then ask me nicely. Go ahead," Simon taunted, a wicked grin curving along his mouth, "Beg."

It was exactly the right wrong thing to say. You watched as Johnny's mouth fell open and his head tilted back, shiny tears springing up along his waterline to spill out from the corners as you felt another warm wave of heat inside. His second orgasm seemed to wring every bit out of him—his face locked in a pained grimace.

He tried to jerk backwards, tried to pull his hips from yours but Simon wasn't having it. He dug his fingers tightly into your hips, arms wrapped around either side of Johnny's waist and pressed firmly against his back, pinning Johnny between the two of you and not giving the whimpering man an inch of space.

"I told you, you're not done until she comes." Using his own hips he helped propel Johnny into you, helping you move to grind on Johnny's dick at the end of each thrust. "You know what you need to do to finish this."

"Please," the other man burst out, unable and willing to withhold any longer, "Please, Simon, need your help. Need you to help me." Tears continued rolling down his cheeks.

"That's all I needed, sweet boy."

Moving one of his hands he dropped his thumb onto your clit after swiping up along your slit, pausing to tease right beneath the head of Johnny's cock on a pullback just to hear him whimper again. With the slick pressure rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves combined with the relentless fucking and stunning visual you were falling apart within moments.

Light burst behind your eyes and your ears started ringing. You knew you were clenching tightly around Johnny's cock but you were unable to spare the thought to see what he looked like as you came. You fell back into your body as the sensations died down, literally falling back onto the bed where you had been arched so sharply only your shoulders were still touching.

As you became aware of your surroundings you watched Simon allow Johnny to pull back, both of you whining at the sensation of him pulling out completely. He flopped to one side of the bed while his chest heaved like bellows, a ruddy flush covering his face and chest. Shiny sweat lined his brow, glistening in the dim evening light.

You didn't have time to rest or take in your boyfriend for long before you were grabbed by the hips, Simon's fingers digging into your plush sides as he pulled you into a position he liked.

Your legs were thrown over his forearms before you realized it, feet dangling in the air and hands coming up to grasp onto his shoulders. As he leaned forward you acutely realized how powerless you were, pinned completely beneath his bulk, no leverage to be seen to get you out.

You looked at him with wide eyes, your own heaving chest causing your pebbled nipples to brush up against his torso, teasing little flicks of sensation to add to everything running through your body.

He notched himself at your entrance with a groan, swiping back and forth, coating the head in your wetness. Finding an angle he liked, he began pushing in.

You whimpered at the burn as he stretched you, even still after Johnny had just had you. You shuddered thinking about taking him without being stretched first, likely a harrowing undertaking. He continued rocking back and forth with small thrusts, each one inching deeper and deeper. Each withdraw causing more of both yours and Johnny's come to escape.

"I know it's a lot, but you can take it. All the way in, all the way to the back, sweetheart."

It knocked the breath out of your lungs when he seated himself inside. A heavy weight felt through your pelvis as his length pried apart muscle to make room for itself. You were afraid you'd feel him inside for the rest of your life. Another gaping chasm when he wasn't there.

It took him the space of a few heartbeats to get situated before he began to move with rhythm, a strong, steady roll of his hips knocking you up the bed with each drive.

Whatever remaining thoughts you might have had spilled out your ears. Nothing able to penetrate the fog he was putting you in with his movements. Your brain became a haze—no worries, no fears—nothing but the feelings he was stoking inside you.

Each time he slid in full you felt him kiss your cervix at the back of your channel. The quick pinch only increasing the pleasure you felt. The mix of the two giving gradients that weren't usually seen, hues bursting behind your eyelids at the sensation.

Proportionately large, he touched every soft spot inside of you simultaneously, a constant wave of endorphins flooding your brain and leaving you a gibbering mess. You clawed at him looking for purchase but unable to find any, inescapably swept away in his tide.

How did you end up here? Under the body of your boyfriends best friend. Because he was his best friend, no matter that Simon would never verbalize it. They were two sides of a coin—better together.

You let your head flop to the side, looking at Johnny passed out and half hanging off the bed on the far side, snuffling breaths a steady back-drone to the slap of skin on skin from you and Simon. You were out of your mind with pleasure, brain unable to spark two neurons together to come up with a thought. It was all white noise to you, unable to focus on anything other than the sensations Simon was drawing from your body.

That was why it was so jarring when two more bodies made their presence known standing beside you on the bed, wide shoulders blocking out the light leaving them draped in shadows.

You let out a huff of a startled scream, no breath in your lungs to get proper volume when hands came up to tweak your nipple and tuck your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

Simon gave a rumbling groan as all your muscles clenched and you bucked up in fear, tossing your head to try and get them off of you. You started to whimper and bat haphazardly at their hands trying to pull yourself away from Simon at the same time but the grip he had on your hips didn't allow you to go anywhere.

"Shh," he gentled, "you're okay, nothing here's gonna hurt you, sweet girl." He never slowed his thrusts, "It's just the rest of the team. That's Gaz and that's the captain." Bone-jarring thuds as his pelvis met the fat of your backside, sharp slap slap slaps echoing through the room.

"What?" you stammered, "I—I thought that—"

"Didn't think we'd let anything happen to you, did you?" he asked with furrowed brows, "Let something happen to our girl?" he scoffed in amusement. "Try again."

Oh. That's—that wasn't—you weren't—

But you couldn't verbalize any of your thoughts. You'd thought you'd been at the end of your stamina before but these two men brought fresh energy to the bedroom. Looking at both of them you recognized Kyle and John from all of Johnny's stories.

"Have you been taking good care of our girl, Simon?"

"Yes sir, Johnny gave her two and I'm working towards a third."

"Good man."

With the team complete the dynamic subtly changed. Where before it had been Simon giving the orders, he now defaulted to his captain, happy to let him take the lead as he directed Kyle and Simon to his own beat.

It was the work of minutes for John and Kyle to strip each other and climb into the crowded bed to join you.

You were too fucked out to muster any proper response so you let them move you as they pleased, content to be a doll placed into the perfect position.

Kyle moved to cuddle up to you up near your face, the cut of his abs all you could focus on for a second before you dragged your gaze up to his face. He smiled down at you charmingly, perched up on an elbow to hover over you, ensuring he was all you could see for a moment.

"We've heard so much about you," he murmured, holding his smile while looking gorgeous enough to stop your heart. "I can't believe we're finally all here together."

Heard so much about you? What had Johnny been telling them? What had he been sharing about your personal life to his team that they thought this was normal? You didn't get a chance for the thoughts to make more than a fleeting impression before they were gone again—the finger on your clit requiring your full attention.

You looked down past Kyle to see John with a hand between your thighs, stroking at the bud before dipping down to gather the wetness that was still being pulled out of you by Simon who hadn't paused. He ran his fingers along where you two joined, dampening his fingertips before resuming his stroking. You couldn't keep still at the sensation, legs jerking and jumping as your nervous system tried to make heads or tails of what was happening to it.

He made short work of coaxing you back into another orgasm, sparks lighting up behind your eyelids as you convulsed, squeezing Simon between your legs and gripping the hand that Kyle had threaded through yours for dear life. Your hips stuttered in their movement, caught between chasing the last sparks of pleasure and pulling away from the steadily overwhelming sensations John was easing out.

It was a relief when he pulled away, letting you begin making headway in catching your breath once more. You watched him reach up with his slick hand to clasp Simon by the back of the neck.

"All right, my boy, now for you."

Simon took this as all the permission he needed to chase his own end with a vengeance. He rutted into you with no finesse, using you for his own gratification as he allowed himself the orgasm he had been denying. It took no time at all before he sunk as deeply as possible, holding there as he emptied himself into you. You felt the heat of him filling you, his cock acting like a stopper keeping it all tucked tight and high inside your channel.

When he eventually pulled back a wave of fluid came with him, dripping down to the bed and coating your thighs. You couldn't do more than gasp—still working on catching your breath. Your head flopped over to look at Kyle, holding your hand clenched in his. He smiled at you and came in for a kiss.

At this point you didn't even think of turning your head away. You simply laid there and let him into your mouth, this man who you technically hadn't even met but who you felt like you'd known for years. All of Johnny's stories doing a wonderful job of painting these three men in such a way you were sure you'd met them a hundred times before.

Kyle's kiss was all consuming. He masterfully played with your lips and tongue, keeping you chasing him while he devoured you. It was wet and obscene and so, so good. He tasted faintly of peppermint, remnants of gum or a mint he had chewed earlier. It had you searching the corners of his mouth, looking for his flavor.

He smiled into the kiss before pressing two quick pecks to your lips and pulling back, giving you space to think. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been fucked six ways from Sunday," you managed, cueing a round of laughter from the three men. By now you'd caught your breath and were watching them with wide eyes, waiting to see what they'd do next. Simon had moved to sit over next to Johnny as John patted at your hip.

"Do you think you have one more in you or are you calling it?" he asked, looking unbothered by what your answer might be. Like he knew this wasn't the only time he'd have you in this position and being lenient was no trouble.

You nodded your head firmly, "I can keep going."

"Atta girl."

You felt your face heat at those words as your gaze darted away, embarrassed at how much you liked it. Even while you were spread out bare for them to view this felt like a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of something too personal to make light of. You had a feeling you could climax from him whispering those words in your ear with his deep rumble at just the right time.

Without a doubt John realized what effect his words had on you if his amused grin was any indication. Thankfully he let it be, not calling attention to your expression. You didn't know he was shelving the thought until later; he had no intention of not pursuing the lead.

Helping you up he turned you so you were on your hands and knees facing Kyle with John's heat radiating into the back of your thighs. He checked in with an Okay, sweetheart? which you reassured him on before he pressed close as Kyle shuffled forward. Slotting his hips into yours he dragged his leaking cock through the mess between your thighs, the damp head bumping against your clit in a tease with each thrust.

"We've heard a lot about you," John noted, trailing a hand along your spine, enjoying the feel of smooth, soft skin. "Soap has practically talked our ears off since you met. Along with how amazing you are, he makes sure to tell us how pretty you are and how nice you smell." You felt him leaning over you and pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "I've gotta say, he was right on all accounts."

A shudder worked its way down your spine at the praise.

Pulling back, he lined himself up with your opening and slid inside in one smooth stroke. As your mouth dropped open to moan Kyle tapped the tip of your tongue with his cock, encouraging you to stick it out for him. He pressed inside when you did and you groaned deep in your throat at his flavor, salt and musk invading your nose as he cupped your head gently between his two palms, holding you steady.

You thought you had been done before, no longer able to continue, to ride the wave of ecstasy any more. They proved you wrong with their wandering hands tweaking nipples and strumming your clit.

It felt like it had been years and minutes both as they bounced you between the two of them. You would grow accustomed to the shape of Kyle in your throat only for John to pull you back, rearranging your organs with the strength of his thrusts.

You didn't know which way was up, your only concern was timing your breaths to Kyle's thrusts, keeping your teeth tucked away from any sensitive skin. Hollowing your cheeks you fought to keep suction, John doing his level best to ensure you couldn't find a comfortable rhythm.

The whole time you were spinning tighter and tighter. A wave building down deep behind your bellybutton, fed with each thrust from the two men. Your body welcoming them in.

The wave continued to build, higher and higher. Larger than you'd ever thought possible. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measures.

What was going to become of you when it crashed? Were you going to be able to be put back together or would you be destined to live out your life as shattered remains, always thinking back to the last night you'd been whole, the last night you hadn't needed others to hold you together like Kintsugi.

John continued thrusting behind you, never stopping, never faltering. He was relentless and driven and you were the finish line he had set his eyes on. You were the end goal that he would see through, come hell or high water.

It sparked something dark deep within your psyche. Something decadent.

Your last climax of the night rolled over you. Starting down low in your abdomen it grew and grew, fed into by each of the men that you had let into your bed tonight. It became too large to ignore, this gaping maw of want that was flooding your blood and your brain, changing your chemical makeup in its wake. You were pretty sure you screamed.

Both of their pants came harshly now as they fought for some semblance of control beyond the tight clutch of your cunt and throat.

John finished next, stamina no match for the silken glide of your cunt, sucking the oxygen from his blood with each press inside of you. But Kyle was shortly behind him. If you didn't know any better you'd say the sight and sound of his captain coming is what pushed him over the edge.

Certainly something to think about later.

It's comforting hands that helped you lay down once you were done, tucked between Simon and Kyle, Johnny still passed out with his foot and arm draped off the side. You were curled into Kyle's chest as you watched John pull on a pair of boxers.

"I'll go get us some water and towels, you all stay put."

You were far to exhausted to think of the ramifications of what had happened here tonight. Instead you were content to curl into warm skin and enjoy the feeling of Simon's arm thrown around your waist.

When John came back with the water you had a moment of laughter when you realized the bed was packed full with the four of you currently and there wasn't a spare inch for John to lay down. Instead he went to sit at the foot, tapping Kyle's feet so he would curl his legs up a bit.

"Anybody broken?" He asked, staring at you while he spoke. It was clear he expected you to be the one to voice any discontent.

"Nope," you yawned, crashing hard now that you were laying still, "right as rain."

"Good. We'll talk this all over in the morning sweetheart. For now, sleep."

Kyle kissed your forehead while Simon curled around you tighter. Tomorrow. You could figure it all out tomorrow. That sounded like a wonderful plan considering you were already drifting away to the soft sounds of breathing.

Next

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 9:33

Bakugou never believed he had room for love in his life. His world was defined by ambitions and goals he set upon himself—becoming Number One, proving what he can or cannot do, and making every moment count in the endless pursuit of the things that he thought would satisfy him for as long as he lived.

He knows what love is. He’d seen it in glimpses—his parents everlasting love, his friends falling over themselves for their crushes at UA back in high school—he knows.

But love wasn’t a luxury he thought he could afford, and even if it was, it wasn’t something he thought about often. Too caught up in the relentless wave of life.

At least, not until you.

He first met you on the job.

At that time, you were nothing more than his partner for this particular high-stakes mission. He initially rolled his eyes at the thought of working with someone new, but you managed to worm your way into catching his attention (and soon into his heart).

You weren’t too loud, flashy, or all bark and no bite like some of the heroes he worked with. You were sharp and methodical, always thinking two steps ahead, and your patience in the face of chaos was something he both admired and envied.

But admiration wasn’t love, not yet.

You were supposed to be just another hero to him—a capable one, sure, but nothing more than a colleague. Bakugou would never admit it aloud, but the way you carried yourself earned his respect quickly.

You weren’t one to back down, even when he demanded easy-fix solutions from you when it was nearly impossible given the situation. You’d meet his intensity halfway, standing your ground when you knew he was wrong—Bakugou thinks that the moment he met you, he’s never once been right.

It annoyed the hell out of him, of course, but it also earned his begrudging approval. It’s like meeting someone that could keep up with him.

He’s still getting used to that.

Still, it wasn’t love. Or maybe he was just in denial.

It started subtly, sneaking up on him like an enemy he couldn’t see coming—which is almost never because Bakugou’s been preparing for his whole life for as long as he could remember. So you were like a force that swept him off his feet, quite literally, when he remembers your first meeting, how you casually tripped him over all because he didn’t acknowledge your presence in the room.

Yeah, that one’s on him.

He began noticing things about you—little things he’d never paid attention to in anyone else. Like the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about—like those little figurines you said were Hironos, or the way your voice softened when she comforted a frightened child.

He noticed how you always managed to keep your composure, even when the odds were stacked against you. You had this way of making everything seem manageable... no matter how dire the situation.

And then there were the quiet moments.

Like the time you made coffee for the whole team during an overnight stakeout, remembering exactly how he liked his: strong, no sugar, just a splash of cream. You handed it to him with a knowing look, and for some reason, that simple act stuck with him longer than he expected.

“Coffee?” you offered.

Bakugou looked at you as if he were like a deer in headlights. “Yeah, thanks.”

He’s not a complete asshole, so he says thank you.

Or the time you were patrolling together, and he caught you humming under your breath. That pop song that’s trendier to the younger generation these days. It was such a soft, absent-minded thing, but it pulled at something in his chest. He didn’t even recognize the tune, but he found himself wanting to hear more.

It starts small. Then it comes all at once.

“You good?” he asks after finishing the given task.

You blinked up at him, nodding with a tired yet triumphant smile. “Peachy.”

That was when it hit him. The relief that washed over him wasn’t just because the mission was a success. It was because you were okay. And the thought of a world without you, even for a second, was unbearable.

Bakugou was screwed.

He started looking for excuses to spend more time with you. Walking you home after shifts, claiming he was “going the same route” even when his neighborhood was in the complete opposite way. Bringing you snacks during long patrols, muttering something about how he happened to have an extra. Offering to spar with you during training sessions, even though he hated sparring with people who weren’t on his level.

He hated how transparent he was being, how obvious his feelings were becoming. But for once in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The night Bakugou confessed, it wasn’t some big, dramatic moment. They were sitting on a rooftop after a long day, the city sprawled out below them, its lights twinkling like stars.

“You free tomorrow?” he asks abruptly, the words gruff and unpolished, like they’d been dragged out of him against his will.

You turned to him, your brows furrowed slightly. “Depends.”

“I— you...” he muttered, staring straight ahead. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t know what it is about you, but… you’re different. You don’t take my shit, but you don’t try to change me, either. You’re just… you.” He finally looked at you, his crimson eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

“And I don’t wanna imagine this—any of this—without you in it.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening as the weight of his words sank in. Then you smiled, your hand resting on your cheek fondly.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Katsuki?”

If he weren’t uncharacteristically nervous right now, he would have made a wittier comeback. Bakugou’s chest felt impossibly tight, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something warm and steady, something he never knew he needed until now.

“Yeah, so? Whaddya say?”

“I’d absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[hencheri]

young lust

18+ mdni.

You want Mark so badly, but he thinks you’re too young for him. With a little more convincing though, he eventually gives you what you want— in a less than gentle way.

pairing: rapper!mark x fem!reader

warnings: mean mean mean mark!!, legal age gap, noncon/dubcon, degradation, reader is mean to mark as well oops, unprotected sex, choking.

a.n.: this is just self-serving atp. hope it serves y'all too <3

.

Mark thinks he’s never been eye-fucked this hard before. He’s flattered, of course, but something’s off. 

You’re hot and very tempting, too, there’s no need in denying that. The little dress you’re wearing clings to your ass and he honestly can’t stop looking at it, especially with your back turned to him, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to meet Mark’s eyes. 

Your gaze is so obviously flirtatious, you don’t even try to be subtle. The finger stuck between your teeth and the look you send him tell Mark everything he needs to know; you want him as much as he wants you. 

He imagines your smaller body pressed against the bathroom wall, his hips clashing against your ass roughly, listening to your moans muffled by the loud music playing throughout the club. He sees it, that slutty mouth chanting his name like a prayer as he gropes your breasts with his palms through your dress. 

Mark looks at you before taking a sip from his alcoholic drink, then shifts his gaze back to Jisung standing in front of him.

“You know each other?” 

He’s taken off guard by the question, taking a second to respond. 

“Uh, no,” he thinks about what to say, but he really doesn’t have a clue on how to explain this… exchange. “We… we don’t.” 

Jisung sports a perplexed yet amused expression on his face. “So where is all that tension coming from?”

Mark raises a brow, eyeing you one last time, but you’re not looking at him anymore. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits, a faint smirk drawing on his lips. “Do you know her?” Mark asks in return, a little curious. 

He won’t lie that he likes the mystery of all this, not knowing who you are adds to the desire, to the inexplicable lust that draws him to you. He wants to mess around, do what he wishes just because he can. And that includes you. He wants to do you so bad. 

“Yeah, of course, we’re in the same company,” Jisung tells him, “she’s in this new girl group, you know. Up in the charts, just right under you,” his friend grins, looking at Mark to see his reaction.

He’s surprised for a second, uttering a “really?” and Jisung nods his head as a yes. 

Mark never pays attention to the charts, even though he gets reminded of them practically everyday. He’s aware of his success—way too aware of it—but he’s not the artist obsessed with numbers. He knows he makes good music and it’s all that matters to him. 

“I don’t know how you still haven’t heard of them already,” Jisung continues, “of her, especially.” He tilts his head in your direction, now both men’s attention on you. “Everyone’s fond of her.”

“Are you?” Mark wonders, narrowing his eyes at his friend. 

“Sure,” Jisung agrees, “she’s a sweetheart. Seems down to earth, for the few times we’ve talked.” 

This intrigues Mark. Does a sweetheart usually act so slutty with strangers? Perhaps he’s not a stranger to you, you very probably know him—everybody does—but he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a girl this bold with him. And surely not someone who’s proclaimed to be a sweetheart, in this industry where anything opposite to pureness is unacceptable. 

He can feel your gaze on him now and he doesn’t hesitate to lock eyes with you once again. You laugh at whatever the person you’re talking to said, almost having Mark envious for not being the one making you laugh right now. 

You’re good at this, he thinks. Really good. Staring straight into his eyes, making him feel like he’s the centre of your attention when in reality you’re talking with someone else. If he could, he would take you with him, bring you to his car and fuck you directly onto his shiny leather seats, door wide open. He knows you’d love it. 

“Is she your age?” he says, taking a sip of his drink, eyes still on you until he hears Jisung’s answer.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” his friend responds, “younger, in fact.” 

He immediately breaks eye-contact with you, looking back at Jisung. Mark feels his heart starting to beat a little faster, suddenly anxious. Or is it embarrassment? Concern? Whatever it is, the desire he once felt, has now shifted. 

“What? How old?”

“Well, I’m not sure, Mark. 21, maybe?” Jisung frowns, trying to recall what you’d told him, but it wasn't information he really registered back then. 

Mark gulps down. He knew something was off, why didn’t he listen to his intuition?

He’s 25 and you’re 4 years younger than him. You’re barely an adult. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now,” Jisung chuckles, noticing the deflated expression on his face. 

“Barely.” 

He empties his glass, settling it down on the counter near him after. He tells Jisung he’ll come back in 5, heading for the bathrooms. 

—-

Mark washes his hands in the sink, drying them off with a towel. He looks at himself in the mirror, leaning over the counter. The music is loud, making the ground vibrate under his feet, making it almost impossible for him to think. Maybe it’s a good thing, he can’t overthink, then. 

“You’ve abandoned me,” he hears a voice saying, lifting up his head just in time to see you entering the bathrooms. “I was wondering where you’ve been gone…” 

Your voice is as sultry as your eyes, as sensual as your body in this ridiculously tight dress. He can’t help but wander his eyes over your figure, looking at what now feels so immoral. If it wasn’t for that—morality—he wouldn’t stop himself from taking you right here and there, but something has to stop him. 

If nothing ever does, god knows all the things he would’ve done since now. 

You approach Mark with slow steps, a teasing smile on your lips, a very precise idea in mind. He wants to back away, leave, forget about everything, but he doesn’t. He’s curious, tempted. 

“Or maybe that’s where you wanted me to be?” you grin, putting your hand around his bicep, the other leaning on top of the counter. 

He stares back at you, unconvinced. “I was about to leave,” he explains, and he sees the glint in your eyes changing. You don’t like rejection. 

“Really?” you utter, the tone of your voice a pitch higher— sounding somewhat bitter. “I swore there was something between us… With the way you were looking at me,” you say, your hand lingering on his arm before removing it. “Do you often look at women like you want to fuck them and then leave them, Mark?”

This confirms that you know him. For some reason, he feels uneasy about the fact that he knows nothing about you but you know all about him. 

You get even closer, only a few centimetres before your body touches him. 

Truthfully, you were the only ever girl he was about to do this to. It didn’t feel like a big deal when he thought about it, but now that he’s been caught, he feels a little guilty. 

“I didn’t take you for a coward,” you whisper.

Mark arches his brow at that, wondering how in the hell did he get in such a situation. Getting called a coward by a brat? By a spoiled little girl who didn’t have to lift a finger for success to find her? 

“You should go back to your friends,” he carefully advises. 

But you find it funny, laughing softly. “So you are a coward, Mark Lee,” you mockingly say, tone condescending, tongue pressing behind your bottom teeth as his name leaves your mouth. “Are you afraid of something? Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into it?”

He keeps his hands away from you, as if the mere feeling of your skin under his fingertips would break down his barriers. He turns his head to the side, away from yours, as you roughly pull on his belt, your chest finally pressed down against his. 

“I know you want me,” you whine, “to touch me… Fuck me.” 

If he could only fall into temptation… Maybe it’d be easier to just follow his desires. Well, in the meantime it would be, but after? What if he regrets it? What if you regret it? He can’t sleep with every girl he sees. 

He never goes for anyone that is younger than him. Not that much, at least. What kind of man would he be? 

But goddamn, why are you so insistent? Why are you making it so difficult for him?

“You’re too young, okay?” 

You take a step back, letting go of him. Your eyebrows are frowned and you look at Mark like he’s the biggest idiot on earth. 

You scoff. “So that’s what you’re afraid of? My age?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, Mark turning his head toward you now that you’ve put some distance between you. 

“What did Jisung tell you?”

“That you’re 21,” he answers, wondering what you’re going to tell him. After all, what Jisung said could have been bullshit. He hopes, for a moment, that it was. 

Your lips quirk up, a chuckle leaving you. You look to the side then back to Mark. “I’m 20.”

His eyebrows knit together, annoyed that you find this funny again. What else can he expect from a 20 year old anyway? That you take this seriously? 

“You find this funny? Do you realize how much older I am?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “and that’s why it’s funny. You’re scared of what? A five year difference?”

You step forward again, but Mark backs away this time, hitting the counter behind him. 

“You’re a fucking puss,” you insult him, full of arrogance. 

But something you didn’t expect happens; Mark knocks his body into yours, making you stumble back as he follows you until your back is flushed against the bathroom stall. His hand goes fast to your neck, squeezing. 

He leans in, the expression on his face furious. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore.

“You act like a spoiled little bitch and you wonder why I don’t want you?” For the first time tonight, you’re speechless. His nose brushes over your temple, so close you feel his breath fanning across your face. “Fucking learn how to accept when people tell you no. Learn to shut your mouth from time to time because they won’t like your ass in this industry if you keep this entitled attitude up.”

You’re looking down as Mark’s eyes bore into your skull, blood creeping up to your cheeks. You gulp, not having a word to say in return. You’d rather not talk back.

He eventually lets go of you, turning around and walking out, leaving you alone and… turned on. 

—-

“Hi, Markie.”

The last person he expected to see when entering his studio is certainly you. The only person supposed to be here is Jisung, and yet, here you are, smiling, eyes glinting teasingly. 

He looks at you, then at Jisung, sitting in front of his computer. He turns around on the rolling chair, totally unfazed by the fact that he brought a stranger into Mark’s studio. 

“What is this?” 

“This?” you question, but he ignores you, walking straight to his friend.

“Uh, well, you’ve already met I believe, no?” Jisung asks, slightly confused. He says your name and it’s all it takes to irritate Mark. “She wanted to come see us work, learn a thing or two. I thought it was a great idea.”

Jisung’s innocence is a good thing sometimes, really. It’s refreshing, quite funny, too, but right now, Mark wishes he wasn’t so credulous all the damn time. 

“It didn’t come to you to, maybe, ask for my permission?” he whispers, leaning in so you don’t properly hear him. 

Jisung’s brows raise up, simply shrugging. “Not really,” he admits, “I thought it wouldn’t bother you. I told you, she’s a sweetheart, and she promised to not interrupt too much. Right?” Jisung turns to you and your smile gets bigger, bobbing your head. 

“Absolutely.”

Mark looks hard at you, not believing this one second. Has god sent you on this earth to test him? 

You stare back at him sweetly, and he swears, if it wasn’t for Jisung’s presence, Mark would have made you regret it. Bitterly. 

Surprisingly, you did keep your promise. You didn’t disturb them once, even pretending to care about what they were working on. You seemed close to Jisung, actually being kind to him, the total opposite of how you were behaving the other night. You’re good at playing pretend, Mark realizes. 

Your eyes were on him the entire time, though. You had the same look as he recalled, eye-fucking him right here in his studio. He was pissed off, to say the least, but he didn’t make a comment. That would’ve been weird to say anything in front of Jisung and the last thing he wants is him thinking there’s something happening between you two— because there’s nothing.

He just hoped the end of the day would come rapidly, and it did, to Mark’s relief. 

With Jisung and you gone, he can finally work peacefully, nobody undressing him with their eyes. 

That is until he comes back into his studio.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” 

He’s lost all of his patience to be respectful to you now. He really doesn’t give a shit. How can someone be so stubborn?

“Told Ji’ I was going to call a taxi,” you explain, getting up from the sofa you’ve been sitting on. “I lied,” you smirk. 

Mark blinks at you, too shocked to say anything. You use the opportunity to get closer, bringing him to you, and then pushing him onto the sofa behind him. 

“Call me ‘too young’ all you want, I recognize a pervert when I see one.”

You don’t think twice before straddling his lap, sitting down on his thighs. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and even though Mark sends you the most murderous glare in the world, he does nothing to push you away. 

Curiosity, temptation. 

“If you didn’t know my age, you would have fucked me right against the bathroom stall if I had asked you to,” you affirm confidently, and there’s truth behind your words. Of course there is, Mark knows what he thought of you at first— what position he imagined you in, the sounds you’d make.

“Get off of me,” Mark barks back, his frowned eyebrows giving him this angry look that you like so much. 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Here I thought I was the whiny little one, but you’re whinier than I am, Markie.”

“I’m not fucking whining, I’m giving you an order.”

“Get me off then,” you propose, grabbing both of his wrists and putting his hands on your hips. “Go on, do it. Or are you too scared to touch me?” You provoke him further, knowing you’ll eventually make him break down, sooner or later. 

“You don’t want me to, believe me.”

His threat has you shivering… and excited. 

“Why’s that?” you wonder, subtly moving your hips over his lap. “You’re sure you’re not the little bitch, hm, Markie?”

You should have expected him to snap sooner, because the moment you say this, he pins you down on the couch, you underneath him. His hold on your wrists is nothing gentle and you can’t even move them. If before you felt like the master of your own game, well now you’ve lost all sense of power, being Mark’s puppet and not the opposite. 

You’re shocked. Scared.

His hand closes immediately around your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Be disrespectful to me once again and I’ll break your fucking jaw,” he spits at you. “Has anybody ever told you to respect your elders, huh? I bet fucking not,” he snorts, “I’ll teach you some manners myself.”

You don’t understand until he reaches under your skirt, pulling down on your panties. Your eyes widen, letting out whines of protest.

“Stop, stop!” you stress out, trying to grab Mark’s hands now that yours are free. 

But he merely laughs, probably the first time you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, now you want me to stop? After all the begging you did so I’d fuck you.”

Mark doesn’t stop, working on his belt, undoing his pants. 

Your heart accelerates, and despite the worried look on your face, your eyes starting to water, the turn of events please you all too much. 

You briefly fight with him, pushing on his chest like a little girl, whimpering pathetically. Mark stays unfazed, easily taking both of your wrists in one hand and pinning it down above your head. He grunts as he pushes his hard cock into you, a gasp escaping your lips as you feel your walls expanding. 

You blink multiple times, taking a deep breath, and the tears roll down the side of your face, disappearing into your hair. It burns, but you’re so wet. 

You ask yourself if Mark knows you’re faking it, but with how delighted he seems to be forcing himself on you, you doubt that he does. Whatever pleases him. 

“It hurts!” You cry out, wiggling your legs, attempting to close them—to no avail—while he pushes himself all the way inside of your pussy. 

Mark snickers. He couldn’t care less.

“Oh, it hurts?” You nod, gulping down. “Tell me why it hurts.”

He doesn’t wait to move his hips back and forth, using you for his own sick pleasure right away without any second thought. You wanted this. You asked for this. Why should he be careful of you now? You shouldn’t have been so eager. Shouldn’t have acted like such a slut. 

“It-” you begin, but a moan of pain cuts you off, Mark’s hips slapping violently against yours; it has your body moving up, your head hitting the armrest of the couch. “You’re- You’re too…”

“Am I going too rough on your virgin little cunt? Poor girl,” he coos, almost laughing in your face. “Too bad I don’t give a shit, huh?”

You sob out when he keeps on with the assault of his hips, his cock defiling your pussy like you’ve never imagined before. Mark knocks the air out of your lungs, panting heavily above you, his already short nails digging into the fat of your thigh. 

You squirm around, pulling on your wrists, none of your attempts are successful— not like you want them to be anyway, but giving Mark a little of a fight is more fun. 

“Please, Mark, I’m sorry,” you beg, lips trembling. 

His eyes, filled with lust and hate at the same time, lay on you. 

“You should’ve thought about it before pushing me over the edge, if it’s pity you wanted.”

[oneoftheextras]

jockjaw | j.t three

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

request: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 7.3k

chapter warnings: size difference, a smidge of hunter/prey, and anxious reader

part one | part two | part three | part four

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

The following weeks were filled with interviews and background tests in between work shifts; you were mentally and physically exhausted.

The vet had pre-warned you with how many hoops you’d have to jump through, but this was more than you had previously anticipated.

They really weren't joking when they said they don't let just anyone adopt a hybrid.

Today was your home inspection. The whole morning had been spent deep cleaning every inch of your home and making it look like something you'd see walking through IKEA.

Once you were done, your apartment was spotless - a bit too spotless.

You sat down on your couch and shuffled around a bit to make it seem at least like someone lived here.

Admittedly, when they told you they would be visiting your home, you'd spent hours searching the internet for how to make your place more comfortable and appropriate.

Looking at different adoption forums to give you an idea of what the inspectors would look for as hazards and immediately removing them from your home.

Candles were bought, lit and then blown out because you didn't like the scent.

Eventually you baked some cookies and left them in the oven after reading that it was an old realtor trick to make a place seem more homely.

Never before had you made such an effort to make your home so appealing.

There was just enough time to shower and get dressed before they arrived, even then, your hair was still slightly damp at the ends when the first knock hit your door.

You gave it one last ruffle with the towel before you opened the door, not wanting to keep them waiting too long and having your first impression be one of tardiness.

"Hello!" you smiled brightly as you swung the door open, seeing the vet who introduced you to Jayce the first time - you'd come to learn that her name was Dr Nala - with a man you'd never met before. His expression was pretty stern.

She greeted you with the same enthusiasm. As she stepped over the threshold of your apartment, your heart thumped in your chest, this was the last sprint to the finish line.

"Have you been baking?" she asked almost immediately and you tried to hide the grin that crept up on your face, not wanting to seem too keen, "I have!" you confimed.

She nodded and continued to follow you through to the living room area, "I'll admit, I don't think I'm very good at it, but when you follow a recipe it's pretty simple," you rambled nervously.

You gestured to the couch for them to take a seat, "Oh, would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?" the speed at which you were talking wasn't normal for you, and you had to mentally tell yourself to slow down.

"Water would be lovely," Dr Nala spoke gently, but the man just shook his head no.

Hurrying to the kitchen you grabbed your nicest glass and filled it with water, your had was visibly shaking. Inhaling slowly through your nose and out through your mouth again, you took a second to compose yourself.

They had only just got here, you needed to show them that you were capable of looking after someone else, and you weren't going to do that if you were falling apart already.

"I've got this," you muttered to yourself, "I've got this!" you repeated with more confidence.

Handing her the glass of water and sliding a coaster onto the table in front of her to put the glass on, you took a seat in the armchair adjacent to them.

She eyed the coaster carefully and sipped her water, the silence was killing you.

"Your apartment is lovely," she complimented after she'd swallowed her sip, but you could tell she wasn't done, "Is it always this tidy?" she asked kindly, but bluntly.

You let out a small laugh, but when you realised it was a serious question your mind went into overdrive - what was the correct answer?

"For the most part," you settled on, "I try to keep it clean as much as I can, but I'm not obsessed with it being like this all the time," you said with honesty.

The man, who was yet to speak or introduce himself, started taking notes and your heart dropped. That must've been a wrong answer.

"But I'm not a slob or anything!" you quickly redacted what you said, trying to make up for any blunder you'd already made.

"May we have a look around?" Dr Nala asked politely, and you didn't know if you were thankful or not that she didn't address what you'd said.

The speed at which you stood up was too-eager, "Of course!".

'Chill, you need to chill!' Your inner monologue screamed at you.

The two stood almost in unison and followed you out of the room, "As I said to you when we first met, it's nothing big or fancy, just a one-bed apartment," you showed them your bedroom first.

They glanced around the room; one starting with the left-hand-side and the other starting with the right, meeting in the middle at some point to cross over - whilst you stood awkwardly with your arm out like you were presenting a gameshow prize.

"So, this is my bed, obviously," you tried to make it humorous but were really worried it didn't come across that way.

Dr Nala hummed, "Have you thought about where Jayce would sleep?" she turned to you, giving you her full attention and awaited your answer.

"Uh-" you started. No, you hadn't. You'd been panicking so much about passing all these exams that you hadn't given it a moments notice, "-Wherever he wants, I guess?" you couldn't have sounded more unsure.

A dog bed just felt wrong and dehumanising. Yes, technically he was going to be your 'pet', but imagining him trying to curl up on one of those small circular beds on the floor didn't sit right with you.

The idea of finding one big enough to fit him was even worse.

She raised an eyebrow at you, and you knew for sure that wasn't the right answer to give.

"I mean, honestly, I thought he'd like the couch. It's pretty comfortable, and a lot of my research said that's what hybrids prefer!" you began to ramble again.

She watched you as you spoke, "I guess, my plan was to ask him the next time I saw him." you confessed, "And if he didn't like what I have here already then we'd go together to get something he did like," you were thinking aloud and for once you weren't trying to think of the perfect answer.

"Your research?" she repeated your words back to you and you felt a pang of embarrassment. "Yeah! I've been looking up things when I've had the time, to make sure I know what I'm doing before he-" you stopped yourself, "If, he gets here," you corrected.

She stared at you for a moment before admiring your bedroom again, "You care a lot," she commented and left the room, showing herself the rest of your home.

She walked into the bathroom, there was a shower-bath and the essentials with a small roof window for ventilation.

"Is this the only bathroom?" she pointed at nowhere in particular inside the room, "Uh-huh," you nodded, but when she didn't say anything else and simply left, you wondered if one bathroom was enough.

Finally, they moved into the kitchen, observing the area the same way they had every other room.

There was an island in the centre that doubled up as a table with the high stools you'd put there.

"Have you thought about meals?" she asked as her small heels made a clicking sound against the tiles.

It was strange to think that this woman was the same person who had been so excited to show you the hybrids in the first place.

"Yeah, protein is a priority but he'd be able to eat the same things as me as long as it's balanced correctly," you practically regurgitated a sentence that you'd seen online.

She nodded slowly, "He does have his likes and dislikes-" she started to say but you interrupted her, "-I know," you opened a draw and pulled out a notebook where you'd copied the things he didn't like from the file she gave you and slid it across the counter to her.

The pair shared a glance as she read your notes.

"Okay, well we wont take up any more of your time," she smiled again, and the suddenness of their departure made your heart sink, it couldn't be a good sign.

You hurriedly put the notebook back into your draw, "Is it okay? My home I mean?" you were speaking quickly again, "Is it suitable? I know it's small, and he's, well, big, but there's a park close by and I need to get out mor-", she interrupted you by saying your name before you started to spiral too much.

"The main purpose of these visits is to make sure the home is safe and welcoming, the main factor being the person living in it," she chuckled, her pleasant demeanour returning.

She tapped her fingers on the counter delicately and glanced around the room, "It's evident that you care a lot, and want the best for him, and that is the most important thing. I have no doubt he will be very happy here with you,".

"Does that mean I'm approved?" you held your breath, "Well, there's paperwork to fill in, but I see no reason why he wouldn't-", "-thank you, thank you, thank you," you shamelessly jumped off of the floor with excitement.

There were happy tears building up in your waterline that you hadn't expected to be there, just over a month ago you had no clue that Jayce existed, now you were the happiest you'd been in a long time.

"Don't thank us, thank you for giving him a second chance," her tone was kind and full of sincerity.

"Could I try one of those cookies?" the man who'd been taking notes finally spoke. You laughed and nodded, wiping at your eyes to make sure you wouldn't actually cry, and plated the cookies that were still sat in the oven.

He ate one happily and hummed to show his enjoyment. Goodbyes were said and they promptly left, taking the anxiety and weight of the encounter off of your shoulders with them.

The following days were torture. A monotonous cycle of getting up, going to work, spending the evening alone, going to bed and repeating.

Wednesday was the day you were bringing him home.

They'd suggested you visit him one more time so you could let him know the good news yourself, but your workload had increased tenfold due to someone being on maternity leave.

Oftentimes you were working through your lunch break, and the sanctuary didn't allow visits after 6pm.

However, you'd booked Wednesday off as holiday and you were collecting him at 4pm, giving you most of the day to buy some last minute things.

By the time you'd done all of your shopping and put it in the right place inside your home, it was almost time to leave.

All too eager to see him again, you left early - driving perhaps a little too fast along the roads, you made one stop along the way, but you made it there safely.

"Hello, I'm here for-" you started as you walked into reception but they were already expecting you, "-Big day today!" the male vet from your last visit brimmed with excitement.

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and nodded, swallowing back how nervous you were.

He lead you through the corridors that were all too familiar to you at this point, but you took a new turn away from the sanctuary you were used to.

The delay in your footsteps as you slowed at the corner you normally took didn't go unnoticed by him, "He's not in there," he called from the other hallway.

Twisting your head back in the other direction, you continued to follow him, "We have a different pick up point for the ones leaving us, it would be too distressing for them and the other residents to do it in the communal area," he explained.

"Yeah, that makes sense," you shook your head, annoyed at yourself that there was yet another thing you didn't think of, but you didn't have time to self-scold.

He stopped at a singular white door and you felt like your lungs had rolled themselves up like when you're trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out of the tube, all ability to breathe was gone.

The vet grinned at you as he pushed open the door, allowing you to step in first.

For a second you thought your knees were going to give out on you. You couldn't remember the last time you were this nervous.

What if he didn't want to go with you? What if he didn't like you as much as you liked him? What if they were forcing him to leave so they could say they were able to get the feral hybrid adopted?

You shook your head to try and get rid of the bad thoughts but they swam around in your brain like algae in a pond, clinging to every surface.

When you finally entered the room he was in the corner next to the window overlooking the parking lot with his arms folded across his chest, he'd watched you arrive.

"Hey," you spoke softly and made sure your tone was as friendly as it could possibly be to not startle him.

He turned his head towards you and the side of his mouth twitched upwards into a smile for just a second, and you felt a tiny piece of worry fall from the mountain you'd created.

"I assume you know why I'm here?" you queried and slowly approached him, he nodded and his tail swished slowly behind him, but the vet vocally responded for him, "Oh yes, we told him yesterday!", causing his tail to stop just as quickly as it had started.

His interruption irritated you. There was a small part of you that wanted to remind him that you hadn't asked him.

Instead, you tried to not let him sour this moment and kept your focus on Jayce. Watching his body language and facial expressions intently for any signs of discomfort or distress.

"Are you okay with it?" you asked him quietly, your voice unintentionally more hushed than usual so though you were trying to make sure that your words only fell on his ears.

He gazed at you, not really giving too much of an indication of a reply to your question; he seemed somewhat indifferent to the idea.

The pang in your chest returned, it felt like your muscles were closing in around your heart - squeezing just enough to allow it to keep beating but hard enough to make it hurt.

Was this your sign that he didn't like you? That he didn't want to leave?

You shuffled forward but made sure to keep your distance, "If home isn't with me, that's okay," you focused on keeping your voice strong and confident, but couldn't tell if you were failing.

One of his ears perked up when you said 'home', leaving the tips to bounce at the sudden muscle movement.

You noticed it but didn't want to give yourself any false hope, instead you let the sensation flutter across your chest.

"I'd really like it if you did," the sleeve of your hoodie was suddenly very interesting. "But it's your choice," if you were paying attention to him, you would've noticed how his eyebrows lost their tension at the sound of your sincerity.

Inhaling, you braved meeting his eye, "Do you want to come home with me?".

His ear twitched again but other than that his expression remained unchanged, until he nodded.

It was subtle and quick; down and up, down and up, but it was certain.

You exhaled and felt instantly lighter, "I'm glad," you tried to let yourself relax, the first hurdle was done, "Where are your things?". Other than him and the empty table and chairs, the room was barren.

"He doesn't have any belongings," the annoying observer said from the corner he was lurking in, "What do you mean? He has clothes and...", you stopped to think, "What about his chess set?".

"They're property of the sanctuary, they can't go with him," he smiled, but that was the last thing you wanted to do in this moment.

With gritted teeth, you glanced between Jayce and the vet. Apart from the basic necessities to survive, he truly didn't have anything to hold onto here.

How could you have been so ignorant to ask him if he was happy here before? How could he be? The entire structure was a constant reminder that nothing he touched was his to keep. That it could be taken away at the click of someone else's fingers.

Even his own freedom was not his.

That stopped today. You'd make sure of that.

"What about his boat?", "What boat?". The desire to lose your temper was strong, but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"The boat that he made with Viktor?" there was a new tension to your voice that he should've taken for a warning, but unfortunately, he was as oblivious as he was ignorant.

His eyes found the corner of the room as he feigned thought, "I don't recal-", "It's on the top shelf of the cabinet closest to the door," you didn't allow him space to speak.

The look you gave him dared him to try and dispute it with you, "Once we have that, we'll be out of your hair," you forced the polite and soft lint to your voice.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes drifted to the shadow behind you and it promptly closed. He managed to mutter a simple, "I'll take a look," before he left the visiting room.

The air felt calmer now that he was out of sight, but that creeping feeling of anxiety clawed it's way up your throat as you realised that Jayce had witnessed that whole scene.

"I'm sorry," you turned your body to face him but still avoided his eye - instead finding an interest in the scuffed up black brogues he wore, "I'm not usually like...that," you tried to explain, "I just know it means a lot to you and I couldn't stand the idea of them keeping it,".

Jayce observed you as you spoke. He felt no malice in your words, not even when you were addressing the man who made his ears hurt.

He noticed how you rubbed your own arm for comfort, and how you avoided eye contact with him - he wasn't surprised, most people did. He wished you wouldn't; your eyes were kind.

When you found the ground more interesting than him, he resided to the window. All he could do now was wait.

"This one?" broke the silence, alongside the sound of the door swinging shut.

The vet was holding the mechanical boat between his fingers by a thin part of the mast, and a part of you knew he was doing it on purpose.

"Yes, that's it, thank you!" you quickly took it out of his grasp and nestled it into your own like a baby bird that you'd found injured on the ground - like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The sooner you removed Jayce from this building the better.

Something that hadn't exactly crossed your mind was how he would be on the journey home.

You took the lead with him trailing behind you at a larger distance than you'd hoped for, you suppose it was natural for him to be uneasy being outside. It wasn't clear as to whether the vets let them go outside of the sanctuary.

Someone like Jayce probably wasn't given that luxury, with his size and obvious athletic build, they would stand no chance of getting him back if he decided to run.

Influenced by your own train of thought, you peered over your shoulder half-expecting him to not be there anymore. Much to your joy, he was.

Opening the door to your car for him and waiting for him to catch up to you, the thought occurred to you; had he ridden in a car before?

Surprisingly, he sat down in the passenger seat with no issue. Apart from having to duck quite significantly to not hit his head.

Once you'd taken your own seat and closing the door softly, he mirrored your movements, clicking his own door shut.

His nose twitched as he scanned his surroundings. There was a sweet smell that tingled his nostrils and filled his senses, but he couldn't place it.

He checked the seats behind him but it wasn't coming from there. The space between his eyebrows wrinkled in frustration at not being able to locate the scent, it was surrounding him.

"I, uh-" your voice drew him out of his search, "I got you coffee on the way here," you were holding up a light brown cup and he noticed that there was an identical cup in the holder separating your legs from his.

He wrapped his fingers around it and accepted the gift, the cup seemingly significantly smaller in his hand compared to yours.

"I'm sorry if it's cold, we were a little longer than I thought we'd be," he lifted the lid of the cup and appreciated the remnants of an intricate flower design in the foam, parts of it had dissolved whilst it had sat in the car.

He inhaled above the liquid, the scent not dissimilar to the one that clouded his brain, but there were elements missing. As if this was one ingredient in the recipe.

He tentatively sipped the coffee, it was luke-warm, but he didn't mind - it was a gift from you.

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered up into your chest as you watched him; his eyes closed and enjoying his drink. You'd had the coffee the sanctuary offered, and it wasn't good. So, you wanted to treat him to something of quality to start your journey together off on the right foot.

When he stopped for breath you chuckled at the milky foam that had clung to the ends of his moustache, the pleasant sound of your laugh turning his attention to you.

"There's- you've got a little bit there," you tapped your top lip and he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand, missing some bubbles.

Subconsciously, you picked up a napkin and reached for him, intending to clean up the patches he'd missed but he moved back sharply, his ears pressed flat against his head and eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of guilt crashing over you. Instead, you left your hand in the air, presenting the napkin for him to take.

"Sorry," you muttered as he slowly took the napkin from in-between your fingers and wiped his mouth.

Be mindful. Let him come to you.

When he seemed to be back to the picture of indifference that you'd come to know, you started the car with a rumble and scrolled through your phone for music to put on for the drive home.

What would he even want to listen to? Did he like music?

Overthinking was going to be the death of you, and you hadn't even tackled getting home yet.

Hitting play, you let shuffle decide for you as you reversed out of the parking lot.

Approximately 10 seconds into the song Jayce leaned over to where your phone was in the holder and pressed the pause icon, the tip of his sharp nail making a pleasant sound against the glass of your phone.

With your concentration being on not hitting any of the other parked cars, or running someone over, you didn't have the opportunity to watch what he was doing.

When the song started from the beginning again, then abruptly stopped and a new song started playing, you knew he'd figured out what each button did.

He eventually settled on a slower song with quieter female vocals and leaned back again, placing his coffee cup into the holder next to yours, and you were on your way home.

The time was closer to 5:15pm and with the colder weather seeping in, it was getting darker earlier than usual, but it worked in your favour as somehow you'd timed this journey almost perfectly.

Whilst you couldn't enjoy the scenery as much as you would've liked to, the orangey-yellow hue of the setting sun traced over the road and cars in front of you.

When you eventually hit the rush-hour traffic and your car became stationary in the line of other vehicles just wanting to get home after a long days work, you allowed yourself to take in the world around you.

It wasn't anything too glamourous, and you'd driven along this road multiple times in the past, but somehow it felt different this time.

The city skyline was silhouetted by the backdrop of the golden hour sun, leaving nothing but tall blacked-out shapes for you to view. It was as if someone had stolen an oil painting and pinned it to the outside of your window.

But the vision that caught your eye was Jayce.

His eyes were closed so gently you may have thought he'd fallen asleep if not for his fingers tapping his thigh to the beat of the music playing. The sun rays were trailing through the glass of the window and laying delicately across his face, highlighting freckles that you hadn't noticed before.

He was at peace, basking in the last pieces of warmth this day had to offer him, and for once his face was relaxed - no scowl or caution on his features.

How long had it been since he'd been allowed a moment of tranquillity to truly appreciate something so minimal, something that you'd taken for granted?

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the line of cars starting to move forward again and you debated whether you should hold up the traffic so he could stay like that for just a little while longer, but the honking of horns wasn't worth it.

The car slowly started to move again and, as you'd expected, he opened his eyes at the sensation - for a second you caught how the sunlight refracted in his irises, illuminating the colour to create the illusion of liquid gold.

You wished you could admire them for longer, but with home so close, you didn't want to shatter the moment.

Unlocking the front door was proving to be the hardest task yet. Your hand would not stop shaking.

The constant tremble that plagued your wrist and fingers made it almost impossible to slide the key into the lock.

Did you tidy everything up before you left? What if he didn't like the space?

Well, he'd just climbed three flights of stairs with you and didn't seem the slightest bit out of breath, so he could always run away if he was that offended by your interior decorating.

The door creaked as you held it open for him, "This is us," you said in the softest voice you could muster - the word 'us' felt foreign on your tongue.

He jutted his chin forward, gesturing for you to enter first. Maybe he was just being cautious?

You walked into your apartment the same way you had every day for as long as you'd lived here, putting your bag down on the table and turning towards him.

He stood in the doorway unmoving, his shoulders and the top of his head almost touching the frame, surveying the room with hooded eyes.

Your best guess would've been that he was checking for any dangers, or simply mustering up the courage to breach the threshold of his new home.

His eyes met yours and you realised you were staring. That probably wouldn't help encourage him.

"Take your time, I need to get something," you tried to hold your head high and straighten your back as if the weight of worry wasn't compressing your spine.

You stepped out of his line of sight and into the hallway that connected to your bedroom and bathroom. Turning right, you chose the former - you'd have to remember to close your door when you slept from now on.

A quick inhale to try and starve off the nerves that lingered, then you picked up a pile of things you'd purchased earlier in the day.

There was a doubt in your head that if you glanced towards the front door that it would still be open but the doorframe empty. If you didn't look then, if you were right, you could live in ignorance.

You exited your bedroom and turned left towards the living room again, but hit a solid wall and stumbled backwards - it was your fault for keeping your eyeline on the things in your arms.

A stupid thought created an unnecessary fear of your own front door and had caused you to slam into a building structure that had been there for a year.

But you hadn't. When your eyelids opened from the shock, you were exactly where you thought you'd be - your back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of your hallway.

Jayce stood as the blockade between yourself and the living room. He glanced down at you with a cocked eyebrow and a crinkled nose of confusion. He'd followed you once you were out of sight and just so happened to collide with you.

With him staring down at you from such a height, you understood why the other hybrids at the sanctuary didn't invade his space. He was intimidating, even if he wasn't trying to be.

His shadow cast over you and shrouded you with ease, and his bright eyes pierced through the darkness like the sight on a gun lining up it's target.

Your chest moved up and down rapidly, your mouth going dry, the familiar feeling of inferiority fell over you the same way it had when you were playing chess against him.

He stepped forward and your breath hitched in your throat, images of his sharp canines and pointed nails flashed in front of your eyes - was this the type of mistake you heard about in true crime podcasts?

He saw the glossy fear in your eyes. He saw it in a lot of people, he'd become accustom to the gaze of alarm staring back at him.

Something about that tension in your eyes, paired with how helpless and small you were on the ground made his heart beat harder and his mouth salivate. For what reason? He was unsure.

He shook his head - his fluffy ears waving with the motion - and he averted his gaze as he lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees until he knelt on them.

As his shadow shrunk so did your worry. You were unable to move for longer than you would've liked, it reminded you of a rabbit in headlights.

When he started to pick up the pieces of clothing and paper bags you'd dropped you finally snapped out of it, getting up off your back and helping him collect the discarded objects.

"T-Thank you," it came out as a tremble so you cleared your throat.

He didn't hand you the things, instead he backed out of the hallway and stepped to the side so you could pass.

You shuffled past him and gently dropped everything onto the couch, "These are actually for you!".

The assortment laid in a mess on the couch so you tidied them into piles as you spoke, "I didn't know what you'd like, or what would fit you, so I had to guess," you placed the clothes onto one cushion, and the paper bags on the other.

He picked up one of the tops you'd bought for him and held it up, by visuals alone it seemed like it would fit him. He pinched the fabric of the white button-up shirt he was wearing and looked at you.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to!" you stepped back from the couch to give him some space, "But I thought you'd like to have a change of clothes, something more comfortable," you called behind you as you entered the kitchen.

It was getting late; you were slightly hungry, and you weren't sure when he last ate so you pre-heated the oven and got to work.

After around thirty minutes of quiet - apart from the sound of the oven humming and water boiling - you grew worried.

You were sure he would be okay, but were you doing the right thing by leaving him to his own devices so soon after he got here?

Most of the forums and blogs you'd read told you that it was best to let them find their own way around the home. In some cases they recommended isolating them to one room until they were used to the smells and sounds of their new home.

Jayce was intelligent, which was great but it causes other problems to arise.

He'd picked up on things just from simply observing you doing them once, whether you were aware of it or not. Which posed the question of, was he like other hybrids?

Would keeping him in your living room for a few days be helpful, or would that freak him out- no. You promised yourself and him that he would have his freedom, which meant he could go where ever he wanted when he wanted.

Once you'd plated the food and slid it over to the counter where the stools were, you thought you'd better go and find out what he was doing and why the apartment was so quiet.

"Jayce?" your voice carried through the hall and hit his ears like a song. It was the first time you'd called him by his name, and he wanted to hear it again.

It wasn't condescending or overly high pitched like how the vets would say his name, you said it with sincerity and kindness. One he didn't hear very often be associated with himself.

When you found him still in the living room, you were greeted by the sight of his bare back, toned and muscular with scars scattered over the tanned skin. "Oh, I'm sorry!" you apologised for the fourth time today.

Your hands shot up to your eyes to give him some privacy, and you turned around leaving almost as quickly as you'd entered, "Foods ready, it's in the kitchen whenever you're done!".

Eventually, he joined you in the kitchen, having now put on a plain black t-shirt and changed into jeans instead of the tattered white shirt and suit trousers he'd arrived in.

As he entered the kitchen you noticed he was holding one of the t-shirts you'd bought for him. It was a light grey long sleeved polo. His eyes flitted up to yours as he handed it to you sheepishly.

You cocked your head with confusion and looked at the fabric, "Did you not like this one?" you asked as he slinked onto the stool in front of one of the plates.

"I didn't know what you liked-" you held up the polo in front of you and stopped mid-sentence when you realised why he had handed it back to you, and more importantly, why he was being avoidant.

There was a tear across the chest, the soft fabric frayed as evidence of a battle lost against a muscular build.

"That's okay!" you tried to hide the chuckle that wanted to leave you, "At least I know what size not to get you from now,". He visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowered as they lost some of their tension.

You folded up the shirt and put it on the counter next to your phone. Sewing it up was always an option, or you could rip it into pieces and use it as dish cloths?

He seemed more comfortable now, chewing on the chicken you'd made slowly as if he was savouring the texture and flavour with every bite.

Despite his nature, he slowly and cleanly ate the food you'd prepared, there was no trepidation about using cutlery either. So you were beginning to wonder if he was actually as feral as the vet had described.

The atmosphere was pleasant. For once you weren't unhappy with someone else being in your space, normally you'd be relatively uncomfortable when another person invaded your home, but there was a familiarity with Jayce.

Other than his large frame being slightly out of place at your counter, it was as if he'd always been there, part of the furniture.

Your train of thought was disrupted by the sound of your phone vibrating across the hard counter top.

The screen lit up with a name you were sure you wouldn't see again, it stopped you in your tracks like flashbang. "I-" you started to say, as if talking to the inanimate object would make it stop.

With a slightly raised heartrate you reached a shaky hand out and tapped the red 'hang up' circle.

Why was he calling you? You'd made it pretty clear that you didn't want any further contact with you after what he'd done, but you couldn't bring yourself to block his contact at the time, and evidentially, you'd forgotten.

Without realising it, you'd been staring at your phone for a good minute before you came back to the present.

You finally tore your eyes away from the screen, "How's the food?" you managed to say, but any sort of response Jayce could've give you was cut short by the annoying buzzing noise echoing on the polished wood.

Jayce's ears flattened against the back of his head at the intrusive sound, and you blinked in semi-disbelief and semi-irritation.

You pressed the hang up button more aggressively, swiped the screen down to turn it onto do not disturb, and placed your phone face down.

"Go away," you whispered to yourself, and Jayce's left ear twitched forward at the hushed tone of your voice.

You stabbed your fork into your food harshly and put it into your mouth, chewing it as you leaned your cheek on your fist.

Thoughts of the past crept their way into your mind, and it was noticeable on your face. You were so occupied with internal questions that you didn't notice Jayce staring at you.

A low huff came from across the table and you looked up at the sound. He was regarding you expectantly; his amber eyes hard and waiting.

"What?" you mumbled with your mouth still full of food. His eyes darted to your phone and then back to your face, and you knew what he was asking, but you weren't sure if you wanted to go there tonight.

Inhaling deeply, you thought about how to respond, "It's nothing," you waved your hand and glanced back down at your almost-empty plate.

He tapped the space on the counter between your plates and twisted his hand to point two fingers upwards towards his face, silently saying, 'Look at me,".

It worked as you re-met his gaze, his stare was still intense but there was a note of curiosity? No, concern perhaps? It was hard to read him.

"Okay, it's not nothing," you sighed, "I'll explain it to you some day, but not tonight, please," you struggled to hold his eye contact, but your response seemed to sedate him as he nodded and returned to his food.

Once you'd finished your meal you put the dishes in the sink and realised it was much later than you thought. "I guess I should give you a quick tour," you laughed as he stayed sat at the counter.

"Obviously this is the kitchen-dining area-" you waved your arm across the room, "-the plates, mugs, and glasses are in here," you opened and closed one of the cupboard door to show him.

"Dry food in here, if you ever get hungry and want a snack," you did the same with the cupboard next to it. "Pots and pans in there," you pointed at one of the lower doors, then to the one next to it, "Cleaning supplies,".

"Fridge, and oven," you put your palm against each metal surfaces respectively, then started walking out of the room, waving for him to follow you, which he did.

He followed you through the living room and into the bathroom, "There's only one bathroom, and unfortunately there's no lock-" you half-closed the door to show him that you weren't lying, "-So, I guess we can have a rule where if the door is closed then don't go in?" you shrugged as you thought out loud, "Or, knock?".

He seemed to understand what you were saying, so you started to head back to the living room, but stopped at your bedroom.

"This is my room-" you reached around the door frame and switched on the light, and realised that you hadn't actually tidied it before his arrival, "-you can come in here if you want, but you probably wont need to," you turned the light off again before he could fully register how messy it was.

Moving back into the living room to grab the blankets and pillows you'd bought for him, "That's everything! I know it's pretty small but it's cosy," you ran your hand nervously over the fluffy brown fabric.

It was complete coincidence, but the blanket you'd bought him was the same shade as his ears and tail.

Extending it out for him to take, you looked up at his face, "I didn't know how or where you'd want to sleep, but the living room is yours," when he took the bedding, you rubbed the back of your neck.

"We can get a different couch if it isn't comfortable, or one of those pull out ones that turn into a bed," you rambled as you mimed what you were describing.

He just stood, holding the bedding, watching you word-vomit to him. He didn't wait for you to stop talking before he started to set up the couch as his bed for the night, and you took that as a sign to stop talking.

It had been a long day filled with new experiences, he was probably very tired.

"I'm going to leave you to it and get ready for bed, there's a toothbrush and stuff for you in the bathroom, use whatever you want," you pulled at the sleeves of your sweater for comfort.

This was the first time you had a guy stay over, granted the situation was vastly different from the usual circumstances someone would think of if you said there was a man staying the night.

But this one was here to stay. It was his home too now, and things were most certainly going to be different from this point on.

"Goodnight, Jayce," you smiled at him softly and gave him space to take everything in. You just hoped he'd be happy here with you.

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[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎshower with clark౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

The hiss of the spray raining from the shower head loosened your taut muscles, and you released a sigh. Tilting your head back, you hummed softly, lifting your hands to smooth hair back from your face. You'd run a brush through before you stepped in, conscious of the tangles that would appear once you were done washing.

This was your safe place, where all the stress of the day melted into nothingness, swirling down the drain with anything else you'd collected during the day. You were long overdue for an everything shower, having skipped it for the past few days. There was nothing worse than a rushed shower. You wanted to take your time, to really relax. After the week you'd had, you felt you deserved it.

When the door clicked open, you perked up, pulling back the curtain and poking your head out. Water dripped from your hair onto the tile, but you hardly cared, a tired smile drawing your lips up.

Clark was rubbing his eye with one hand, stepping forward to cup your damp cheek with the other. "Baby." His voice was no more than a mumble, and your eyes wandered over him. Curls stuck to his forehead, wearing nothing except a pair of boxers.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned against the side of the shower, tilting your head into his touch. "Wanna come in?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah." You slid the shower curtain aside, watching him kick off his boxers before he got in. The water flattened his hair, and you reached up to push it out of his eyes.

Clark opened his arms, and you fell into them, pressing your cheek to his warm chest. One big hand smoothed over your hair, and he kissed the top of your head. "You left."

"I'm sorry, baby," you said softly, burrowing into him. "I didn't think you'd wake up."

His chin settled atop your head. "You can wake me up for showers. I like this. I love this," he corrected himself after a moment.

You tilted your head up, his arms around your back holding you upright. "I love it too."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, eyes on the wall behind you. "You have a lot of pink soap."

"Mhm," you hummed, resting your cheek on his chest again. He'd never commented on it before, but it made you smile.

Clark's thumb rubbed up and down your lower back. "Is that why you always smell like a donut?"

A happy giggle bubbled up from your chest. "Donut?"

There was a pause, and he adjusted his arms comfortably around you. "You know...sweet."

"Yeah," you responded lazily, looking up at him. His eyes were sleepy, and you lifted your hands to cup his face. "Wanna try some?" The black and grey bottles of his own soap were lined up neatly next to yours, but you offered anyways. "Just one?"

Pausing for a moment, Clark used his fingers to scratch your back, and you nearly melted. "Which one?"

Reaching out from the confines of his arms, you plucked one up. "This one. Bodywash."

He leaned his cheek against your head, inhaling softly. "Okay." You squealed, causing him to jolt just slightly, but he shook it off and took the bottle from you. When you looked back up at him, he was smiling.

Showering with Clark wasn't an uncommon occurrence. You easily maneuvered around each other, swapping places on the shower bench and under the head. You borrowed the body wash back to shave, and he scrubbed at his curls, closing his eyes to rinse out his soap. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, from the firm contours of his body, and how it looked when water was dribbling down his chest.

You knew him in every form- as the invincible hero and the quiet writer. Underneath it all was something soft, a man who melted under your touch and held you like a teddy bear at the end of every day. And here he was, rubbing your sugar cookie body wash all over him and grinning at you when he saw you watching. Clark's skin was thick, untouchable, but in times like these you could see his heart. It was bigger and brighter than anything you'd ever come across before.

You stood up for one more rinse, feeling clean and fluffy like you always did after a good wash. Clark capped the bottle he was holding, taking the razor from you and setting it on the pale pink shower caddy. He reached for you. "C'mere, honey."

Gladly, you settled back into him, feeling almost cocooned. He pressed a few kisses to your head, swaying back and forth so subtly it almost felt like a dream. Images of clouds and pastel rainbows and white fur blankets filled your mind like fog. This was always how it felt around him. Safe. Anywhere else you'd be on high alert, but when you were tucked away into him, your mind lapsed. It was like your body knew you were protected.

Getting out, Clark wrapped one of your fluffy towels around you before drying himself off. You covered your torso, reaching for your vanilla lotion, but he got to it first. "Let me?" When you nodded, he lifted you onto the counter, big hands on your waist, and knelt before you. While he worked on the first leg, you made quick work of brushing your hair, setting it to the side so you could look at him again. Leaning back on your hands, you watched him with sleepy eyes. The feeling of his hands on your smooth legs was a bonus to the calm you already felt.

He had you in his arms once he was done, and the trip to your room was a blur until he set you down into your bed, gentle and loving as always. The towel was removed, and he worked a shirt over your head, panties up your legs. With his hand under your head, Clark guided you to lay down, only leaving you for a second and reappearing on your other side to gather you into his arms. He smelled like your body wash.

The moon was glowing through the slit in the curtains, and you turned in his arms to push your head into his chest, hiding from the light. The overwhelming feeling of being taken care of flooded you, and you felt more relaxed than in months.

An 'I love you' was whispered into your hair before you drifted off. You squeezed his hand over your tummy. When you weren't half asleep in the morning, you'd make sure to say it back.

[4linos]

they call you clingy.

ot8 x fem!reader

warning: really angsty, feeling insecure/unworthy, no happy endings. (sorry)

wc: 8708

bang chan

You and Chan had been together for a while, and things were generally great between you two. You had your own lives, your own routines, but there was always a sense of closeness between you that you both cherished. Lately, though, you’d found yourself tagging along with him more often, especially when he had dinner plans with the members.

At first, he didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed having you around, and the other members seemed to appreciate it too. Some of their girlfriends were there as well, so it felt natural, like a group gathering. But after a while, you started coming along more frequently, not wanting to spend evenings apart. You thought it was a way to spend more time with him, but you could tell it was starting to weigh on Chan, though you weren’t sure why.

Chan said nothing at first, but you could tell he became quieter and more distant throughout these dinners. He looked at his phone more frequently, and his smile seemed forced when you spoke with him or the others. Still, you tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was just your imagination. You weren't doing anything wrong by wanting to be with him, right? You had every right to join him on nights when he was with the other members. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

One evening, as you all gathered for a casual dinner at a restaurant, the atmosphere was different. You were laughing, eating, and talking with some of the other girls when you realized Chan was particularly quiet. He was nibbling at his food and not really participating in the conversation. You leaned over to him, laying your hand on his arm, attempting to draw him into the moment.

"Chan, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice gentle and anxious.

He shuddered slightly at the contact and gave you a fake smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, but the tiredness in his voice was clear. The others didn’t seem to notice, but you did. It felt like he was pushing away from you just a little. Your stomach twisted as you tried to ignore the unease creeping in. Then, the conversation shifted. As the dinner continued, someone brought up how often you came along with Chan to these meals. You didn’t think much of it at first, but you could feel his discomfort growing.

“Honestly, though,” Chan suddenly chimed in, his voice a little more sharp than usual, “it’s getting a bit much. She’s always tagging along. It’s like she can’t ever be away from me. It's kind of suffocating.”

The words hit you like a smack in the face. You froze, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach. The table fell silent for a moment, the tension in the air evident. You could feel everyone's gaze on you, and your cheeks reddened with shame. You tried to shrug it off, believing it was a joke, but the expression in Chan's eyes revealed his disinterest. He was not joking. Time seemed to slow down, and you could feel the sting of his words settling deep within you. Without thinking, you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom, your chest tight and your eyes welling with tears. You locked yourself in a stall and tried to calm your pounding heart, but the words replayed in your mind over and over again. “Clingy,” “suffocating.” You felt small, insignificant, and utterly hurt.

Meanwhile, at the table, the other members exchanged glances, seemingly uneasy about what had just happened. After a minute, Hyunjin spoke up, his tone surprisingly soft. "Chan, that wasn't cool, man. Why would you say anything like that? She isn't clinging at all. She's just trying to spend time with you."

Felix nodded in line, his tone quiet yet forceful. "Yeah, we really like having her around. She makes things more fun, you know? I don't understand why you'd say something like that.”

Chan wasn't sure how to answer. He had meant it as a joke, something to relieve the stress he'd been experiencing lately, but now that he'd heard the other responses from the others, a rush of shame swept over him. He felt he'd crossed a boundary, but it wasn't until they spoke out that he recognized how serious the situation was. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered, but his apologies seemed hollow even for him.

His thoughts was muddled by remorse, and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely embarrassed. "I think you should go talk to her," Minho said softly. "She is probably really hurt right now. You have to make it right."

Chan’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to think about how badly he’d hurt you. His usual confident self was gone, replaced by a knot of regret.

lee know

It was one of those days. The sort where everything you touched seemed to fall apart, and every corner you turned revealed another disaster ready to happen. The day began with your boss screaming at you for something you didn't even do, his anger pouring out on you as if it were your responsibility that the world was collapsing. You hardly had time to calm yourself before spilling your coffee all over your blouse at lunch. The entire day had been an upsurge of humiliating incidents, missed deadlines, and biting your tongue to resist snapping at everyone who gave you the wrong look.

You were physically and emotionally drained when you arrived home. You just wanted the day to end, to close your eyes and forget everything. However, when you walked through the door, you were welcomed by a familiar, comfortable smell.

Minho was in the kitchen, wearing an apron and humming softly to himself while making something. Your heart lifted a little because he was here, cooking for you. The simple gesture of kindness was a welcome breath of fresh air after a long day of drowning.

You stood by the door, hesitant whether to interrupt, but then he turned toward you with a gentle smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You forced a smile, despite the weight of the day pressing on you. “It was... fine. I’m just glad to be home.”

He noticed the weariness in your eyes and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a gentle embrace. It was the kind of comfort you needed, even if you didn’t know it until he offered it. “Relax. I’ve got dinner covered. Why don’t you just sit down and take it easy?”

You nodded, thankful for his concern, but something inside you refused to just sit back and do nothing. It felt awful to be passive while he was so busy. "Let me help," you volunteered, heading near the counter, attempting to gather yourself after a stressful day. Minho gently shook his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "There's no need. "Please relax, okay?" You couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction. He was always so selfless and compassionate, and you didn't want to be someone who just sat by. Instead of disputing, you nodded and gave in to his desire. He was right, after all; you could use a break. “Alright. But give me something small to do.”

Minho paused for a moment to contemplate, then assigned you a tiny task. "Okay, could you please tidy up a little while I finish the soup? Just wipe down the countertops." It seemed simple enough.

You took a rag and followed his instructions while he worked on the soup. The house was peaceful, almost serene, and you hadn't felt that type of peace all day. It was good to be here with him and feel like you weren't confronting the world alone.

But in the middle of cleaning, your eyes darted to the pot of soup on the stove. It smelled incredible like something he had poured his heart into. You felt a surge of gratitude, the kind that made you want to help him, to show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

Without thinking, you decided to move the pot, to give him a little more space so he could focus on finishing everything. You gently lifted the heavy pot, but as you tried to shift it, your grip faltered. The edge of the pot slipped from your hand, and in an instant, it tilted, the boiling liquid splashing violently all over the kitchen floor and onto your leg.

You screamed out in shock, the searing heat of the soup burning into your skin, but the pain on your leg was nothing compared to the way everything seemed to shatter around you. The kitchen became chaos. The pot had fallen, splattered everywhere, and the delicious smell was suddenly replaced with the pungent scent of spilled soup. You tried to gather yourself, but the kitchen was now a disaster, and so were you on the verge of tears, overwhelmed, hurt, and defeated.

Minho turned when he heard the accident. His expression shifted from worry to annoyance in an instant. You looked up, and his eyes were filled with anger. The following words he said struck you harder than the burn on your leg. "Why are you always so clingy? I spent hours making that! "If you had just stayed out of the way for once, this could have been avoided!" His voice was harsh and slashed through the air like a razor. You stared at him, frozen in shock.

Was this actually happening?

His words felt like a punch to your chest. They were not what you expected, not from him, not when you were already dealing with the weight of the world. Your mind scrambled to make sense of it. How had it come to this? How had you gone from being the person he always tried to comfort to someone he now seemed to resent?

He stayed there, hands clenched at his sides. "God, I can't believe this," he said quietly, shaking his head. You always do this. You always get in the way. "Why can't you just relax and let me do it?"

You couldn't react because your heart was hammering painfully in your chest. You had spilled more than simply the soup. It was not only the mess. It was the sting of being accused of something you never wanted to do, like being too much. You did not want to be a burden for him. You never intended to make things more difficult, yet everything you did seemed to make things worse.

Minho sighed, looking at the mess with frustration. “Just… go to the room or something,” he snapped, turning away from you.

You stood there, unsure of what to do, feeling smaller than you ever had before. You knew he was angry, but the way he dismissed you, the way he acted like you were just an inconvenience, was something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t usually like this. But right now, it felt like you had done something unforgivable. It felt like everything you had ever tried to do for him had been wrong, every gesture of kindness or help misplaced.

Your legs gave way, and you sank to the floor, trying to steady yourself, but your hands trembled with the weight of his words. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. The physical pain in your leg from the burns was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You had wanted to help, to make things better for him. But now, all you could do was try to tend to your own wounds both physical and emotional alone.

You pulled yourself up slowly, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling, trying to find the strength to move. Minho was still in the kitchen, silent now, cleaning up the mess you had made, but his anger still hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You left him there, retreating to your bedroom, feeling more isolated than you had in a long time. The night was quiet, but the silence between you and Minho felt louder than ever. And in that silence, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep trying to be the person he wanted you to be when everything you did seemed to push him further away.

changbin

The evening started out like any other. You and Changbin were going to go to the gym together after a long day. You were excited to spend more time with him, especially since you had been trying to join him at the gym more often recently. At first, it seemed like a fun bonding activity. You'd go to encourage him, attempt to keep up with some of the exercises, and simply enjoy being with him. Changbin had always been a bit of a lone wolf, preferring his own time to recuperate, but he'd been nice enough to let you tag along at first.

You didn’t realize that things had slowly started to change. What had initially felt like an innocent way to spend more time together had started to weigh on him. Maybe it was because you’d started following him around everywhere always just a few steps behind, trying to do what he was doing, lingering around him during his sets. Maybe it was because he didn’t have his usual space anymore. But whatever the reason, Changbin was beginning to feel the pressure, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

You had no idea how much your presence at the gym was bothering him. He wasn't trying to hurt you or make you feel bad about wanting to spend time with him, but tonight was different. He could feel his patience fading and his irritation growing the more you wanted to incorporate yourself into his routine. It was supposed to be his time to escape. He needed the gym to be his sanctuary, a place to unwind and clear his mind. But tonight, as you followed him from machine to machine, everything came to a head.

The air in the gym seemed heavier than usual. Changbin could feel his patience fraying as you followed him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. You weren't doing anything wrong, yet he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense that you were constantly present. His gaze shifted to the clock on the wall; he'd been here for nearly an hour. And it wasn't that you were clingy in an obnoxious way; it was simply that you were always with him, which was enough to frustrate him.

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't clear his mind as he used to. You were always there, following his every move, asking questions about his setups, and attempting to get in the way of his routine. His thoughts were clouded, his mind no longer able to concentrate on the iron and his own movements. He couldn’t unwind. He couldn’t breathe.

When you followed him to the weights area once again, his frustration bubbled over.

“Y/N, can you just stop?” he snapped, his voice harsh and sharp, completely different from the usual warmth you were used to. His words cut through the air like a slap. “Can you just let me have this one thing? The gym isn’t supposed to be some place where you follow me around all the time. I need it to be my own. I need my space. You’re always here, and it’s... it’s too much.”

You froze, a cold shiver of confusion running through your body. Your eyes flickered from his irritated face to the ground, unsure of what to say. You had always been so excited to share things with him, and this was the last place you thought something like this would happen.

“B-Bin... I didn’t—" you started, your voice faltering, but he cut you off, his frustration spilling over.

“You’re always clinging to me, Y/N. And at first, I thought it was cute. But now? It’s just too much. The gym is supposed to be my alone time, somewhere I can relax, somewhere I can focus. But you’re here, and I can’t even do that anymore,” he said, each word feeling like a weight crashing down on you.

Your chest tightened and you found yourself unable to breathe for a little while. It felt as if the world had stopped moving around you, and all you could hear was the flow of blood in your ears. You weren't expecting to hear those words from him. Changbin had always been supportive and loving, even if he was a little protective of his space. What about now? Now it felt like he was pushing you away. And the way he avoided your gaze while he spoke, as if he couldn't stand to witness the pain he was causing, you could feel your heart breaking piece by piece.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it didn’t help. The lump in your throat was too big, and the pain was too overwhelming. You weren’t clingy. You just wanted to be close to him. You didn’t realize that your presence, something you thought was innocent, had been smothering him. But hearing it from him so bluntly… it felt like a punch to the gut.

You said nothing at first. Your body was stiff, your eyes filled with unshed tears. You wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. Instead, you simply turned slowly and began to walk away. "I'll go," you said softly, your voice barely audible. Your steps were wobbly as you approached the exit. Changbin turned around, his heart sinking into his chest. It hit him, followed by the look in your eyes. Your lips quivered. He realized what he had just said. The frustration and fury had been misplaced. He didn't mean to hurt you. He wasn't trying to make you feel unwanted. But it was too late now. The damage was done.

“Y/N—wait!” he called after you, but it was no use. You didn’t even turn around. You just kept walking, your back stiff, your steps hurried.

hyunjin

(a/n: you and hyunjin aren’t a couple here, you’re childhood best friends)

The after-party had been buzzing with energy all night, full of celebration and the kind of chaotic, joyful atmosphere that followed every successful concert. It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a chance to let go of the weight of the stage and just relax with friends. You, however, couldn’t seem to shake off the knot of tension that had been growing inside you for weeks.

It hadn’t been an abrupt change, not really. Hyunjin, your best friend, had slowly started to become distant. At first, it was subtle, a shift in the way he looked at you, the way he barely seemed to notice when you were around. But now, it had become glaringly obvious, especially in moments like this, when you found yourself desperately trying to keep the connection you two had built over the years.

You’d always been there for him, supporting him through everything the highs and the lows. But lately, whenever you tried to lean on him, he pulled away. The distance between you had begun to feel insurmountable, and tonight, surrounded by the group at the after-party, it felt like the final straw.

You felt an odd, uncomfortable pull as soon as you walked inside the party. The sight of Hyunjin laughing with the rest of the group should have made you happy, but instead it made your chest tighten with anxiety. He looked... unusual. His eyes, the way they avoided yours, made it clear that something had changed between you two. You despised the sense of being on the outside, like you didn't belong anymore.

You had tried to give him his space during the last few weeks, respecting the growing distance between you. But tonight, you were determined to be present. To pretend as if everything was still fine.

After all, you were his best friend, right?

You moved over to where he was sitting, talking with Seungmin and Jeongin. When they saw you approaching, Jeongin's face lit up with that warm, welcome smile that always put you at at ease. He gave you a warm nod and motioned for you to join them, which you immediately did, thinking that the familiarity of the situation could help the uneasiness that had begun to settle over you. But once you sat down, Hyunjin's tone changed. His eyes flicked across to you for a quick, unreadable look before returning to the others. You tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. Jeongin was chatting animatedly about something, but you couldn't pay attention. All you could think about was how Hyunjin had practically turned his back on you.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You leaned closer to Hyunjin, trying to keep your tone light, as if everything were normal. “Hey, Hyunjin... you good? You’ve seemed off lately.”

He looked at you, his expression suddenly sharp. “I’m fine,” he replied quickly, and there was a coldness to his voice that cut through you like ice.

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been able to talk through things before, but now it seemed like he didn’t even want to acknowledge you. You tried again, your voice trembling just slightly, “I’m just checking in... I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, as if he were irritated with you asking. “You’re always around,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “I don’t need you following me everywhere. It’s annoying.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, the weight of his comment sinking deep into your chest. You had no idea where this was coming from. You had always been there for him, not because you needed to be, but because you cared about him. You wanted to be there. But now, suddenly, it felt like you were an inconvenience.

The room felt suffocating, the noise of the party growing distant as you tried to process what he had just said. You had always been careful not to smother him, always tried to give him space. But now he was telling you that your presence, your very existence, was too much for him.

It was too much.

The lump in your throat grew, but you weren’t going to let him see you falter. You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but you couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that came flooding to the surface. You had tried so hard to be understanding, to be patient, but this was too much to handle.

Before you could say anything more, you snapped. “You know what, Hyunjin? I’m not following you around,” your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m only here because Felix invited me. As his date.”

The words hung in the air, sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. You could feel the sting of betrayal, the way Hyunjin had made you feel small, and the anger bubbled up inside you. The room grew quiet for a moment, everyone’s attention now focused on the exchange.

You didn’t look at Hyunjin. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned on your heel, your pulse pounding in your ears, and walked straight to Felix, who was standing nearby. He gave you a surprised glance, but he didn’t ask questions. He simply wrapped an arm around you as you sat next to him, offering you a comforting presence in the midst of your emotional storm.

You didn't speak for a time, your thoughts racing from the argument, but Felix didn't press you to explain. He just let you sit there in peace, his arm resting comfortably on your shoulder. You leaned into him, attempting to center yourself and escape the overpowering pain that threatened to consume you whole. Felix did not deserve to bear the burden of your wounded heart, but in that time, his comfort was the only thing that made sense.

Hyunjin's gaze stayed fixed on you as the party went on. But you refused to look his direction. He'd already made it apparent that your presence no longer mattered to him. He had driven you away with his hurtful words, and as much as it pained you to admit it, you knew deep down that it was too late to fix things.

The rest of the night was a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, about how he had made you feel so small, so insignificant. The person who had once been your best friend, who had always been there for you, was now the one who had cast you aside. And the worst part was that you didn’t even know why.

As the party wound down and everyone began to leave, you stayed close to Felix, not looking back, not wanting to face Hyunjin. You didn’t know what had changed between you two, or why he had suddenly decided that your friendship wasn’t worth his time. All you knew was that the person who had once been your closest confidant, the one who knew all your secrets and fears, had just torn your heart apart.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

HAN

The evening began like any other, or so it was supposed to be. But Jisung felt as if the world was pushing down on him with every step he made into the apartment. The intensity of the day still clung to him, like a physical weight of frustration, disappointment, and tiredness. He had spent hours in the meeting with the company staff, only to hear criticism for the smallest mistakes and missteps. It wasn't the first time, but it always hurt. This time, however, it seemed different; he couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy.

The door clicked behind him, and the familiar aroma of home didn't bring much comfort. Instead, it was almost smothering. His limbs ached, his mind raced, and all he needed was peace, time to unwind.

But you were there.

You always were.

As soon as he walked through the door, your eyes searched his face, and he could see the concern etched over your features. He could tell you'd sensed something was wrong. He attempted to disguise it when he saw you earlier that day, brushing off your "are you okay?" with a quick "yeah, I'm fine," but now, as you stood there with that sweet look in your eyes, he couldn't help but see it. You could look right through him, like glass.

"Jisung," you said quietly, your voice carrying the gentle tone you always used when you knew he was struggling, "are you sure you're okay? You don’t look okay."

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked. You'd been asking since the moment he came home, like you always did when you saw him worn down, like you always did when he looked like he was holding a little too much in. But no matter how well you meant it, no matter how much you truly cared about him, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Not today. Not tonight.

"I’m fine," he muttered, his tone dismissive, but you could hear the edge in his voice.

You hesitated, eyes scanning him again, sensing the distance between his words and the tension in his body.

"Jisung… I know you’re not fine," you said softly, a frown pulling at your lips. You reached toward him, wanting to bridge the gap that was widening between you, but he stepped back before you could touch him.

"I’m fine," he repeated, louder this time, irritation lacing his voice. "Just stop asking."

Your heart twisted, but you tried to swallow the hurt, not wanting to push him further. But you couldn’t stop yourself from trying again, desperate to get him to open up. "Please, I can tell something’s wrong. If you need to talk, I’m here."

He froze at that, hands clenched at his sides, jaw clenched. His frustration, the irritation that had been building inside him all day, finally cracked open.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, his voice sharp, his eyes burning with anger, not at you, but at the world that had worn him down. "Why are you always so clingy? It's annoying. I do not need you hovering over me like this. I don't need you constantly keeping tabs on me!" The words were biting and nasty. You trembled, a flood of hurt smashing over you, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't help but feel the sting of dismissal and the weight of his harshness. "I'm just trying to help you," you said softly, your voice quivering slightly. "I just want to make sure that you're okay. Why don't you let me help?"

He glanced at you, the spark of guilt in his eyes swiftly drowned out by the a flood of frustration within him. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He wanted to apologize. He knew he hurt you. But the words did not come, and he had no idea how to make it right. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted when everything inside him felt like it was about to come apart.

You did not wait for him to say anything. The anger, bewilderment, and hurt welled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you turned on your heel and marched out, your footsteps loud and strong as you made your way to the bedroom.

The door slammed behind you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. You sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of the frustration both his and yours press down on your chest like a suffocating blanket.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this way. You had only wanted to help him. To be there for him when he was struggling. But all he had done was push you away.

You heard no footsteps, no soft knock on the door. Normally, when something like this happened, he would come after you. He would apologize, his voice soft and regretful, and you’d make up. He’d say something about how it wasn’t you, how he was just having a hard time. But this time, the silence stretched on. The door stayed closed.

It wasn’t long before you realized he wasn’t coming.

The silence felt so loud, so suffocating, and it only made everything hurt more. He wasn’t here to apologize. He wasn’t here to soothe you like he always did.

And maybe this time it wasn't all about him. Maybe it was more than simply his tiredness and irritation. Maybe it was about something deeper, something more than just a bad day at work. Your heart broke at the thought that he might have pushed you away because he didn't know how to accept you. Maybe he'd been hiding his pain for so long because he was frightened to show you the parts of himself he thought were too shattered. Maybe he was just too stressed to recognize that you weren't a burden, but rather someone who wanted to help him shoulder the weight.

But right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had called you clingy, had pushed you away when all you wanted was to hold him close.

You curled up in bed, hugging your knees to your chest, and tried not to cry.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt the weight of the bed shift beside you. Jisung’s presence was always so familiar, so warm, but tonight it felt distant. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, in the darkness, as the minutes dragged on.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t know if you could ask him again if he was okay. Not yet. Not until he was ready to admit that he wasn’t.

felix

It had been one of those days where everything seemed strange, as if a thin film of tension had been applied to the edges of everything you did. The kind of day where even the most basic tasks felt significant, and no matter how hard you tried to make things feel normal, you couldn't escape the growing distance. Maybe you chalked it up to stress. Maybe it was just a phase. Everyone goes through a hard stretch, right? But when you woke in the middle of the night, your hand instinctively going for the warm spot beside you, only to find it empty, that emotion became too strong to ignore. Felix had always been the one to stay close, even in sleep. He was always so attentive to your needs, so present. But now, the space between you was cold, and the bed felt too large without him there.

You sat up, the quiet of the room pressing in on you, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you swung your legs off the side of the bed. The soft glow of the TV in the living room flickered across the hallway, casting long shadows.

As you made your way down the hall, you saw him there, slumped on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen but unseeing, staring at it like it held some answer that he couldn’t quite grasp. You could see the strain in his posture, the weight of something pressing on him, but he didn't acknowledge you as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, unsure what to say. The silence between you two felt like a wall, immovable and unbreakable. This wasn't the Felix you knew, the one who would always offer a comforting smile or an encouraging word when you needed it. This version of him was remote and frigid, as if he built a fortress and did not plan to let anyone in.

"Felix," you whispered slowly, trying not to shock him, your voice trembling with emotion. "What's wrong?"

He didn’t respond at first, as if he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he just didn’t want to answer. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like it added more distance between you two. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was low and strained, and it hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Nothing,” he muttered, though it was clear that wasn’t true. His words didn’t match the heaviness in the air, the emptiness that had settled between you two. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Leave him alone? You didn’t understand. Since when had he ever asked you for space, especially like this? Felix had always been the one to reach out, to comfort you, to be the one you could lean on when things got tough. But now, he was shutting you out, pushing you away.

You stood there, paralyzed, staring at the back of his head as the emptiness in the room seemed to swallow you whole. His posture was stiff, almost defensive, like he was trying to make himself smaller, trying to hide from you, and it hurt more than you ever expected.

"You don't have to be so clingy all the time," he said, his voice more clipped and distant than you'd ever heard. It was as if the words were spoken by someone else, a stranger in the body of the person you loved.

Clingy? The word resonated in your thoughts, sending you reeling. You'd never considered yourself clingy. Have you really gotten so annoying? Was your affection and presence too much for him? You couldn't understand it. The connection, the intimacy that had once been so natural between you two now seemed so far away, as if it were a dream you couldn't fathom.

“I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry, not to show him just how much his words had wounded you. “I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’re… you’re not like this, Felix. Not with me.”

You took a tentative step forward, hoping that your proximity would reach him, that your presence would somehow break through the wall he had built around himself. But he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you, and that hurt more than anything else. It was the silence, the refusal to face you, that felt like a betrayal.

"Please talk to me," you whispered, your heart breaking as you watched him remain motionless on the couch, his eyes still fixed on the television, as though he could pretend you weren’t even there.

But Felix didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his focus on the screen, the distant expression on his face more painful than any argument. You could feel the distance between you growing, spreading like a chasm, and it felt like you were standing at the edge, about to fall into the void.

It wasn't always this way, you thought, recalling times when simply being in the same room was enough to make you feel connected. It seemed as if you blinked and everything had changed. He wasn't the same Felix who would stay up with you when you were feeling sad, holding you and whispering comfort in the darkness. The man who had once looked at you with warmth and love now seemed so distant, like a stranger you didn't recognize.

Your heart ached; the anguish of losing him, feeling him slide through your fingers, was almost excruciating. You could not tolerate the deafening stillness between you any longer.

With a last, desperate glance at him, you whispered, “I’m here, Felix. I’m always here for you. If you need space, if you need time, I’ll give it to you. But I just… I just need to know you’re okay.”

But he didn't respond and didn't move. His silence hurt worse than words could, and you realized, with a sickening feeling, that you had no idea where you stood in his life. The Felix you knew, the Felix who would always reach out to you, seemed like a memory you could no longer grasp onto. You turned away, your feet feeling heavy as you walked back to the bedroom, the distance between you two becoming more than just physical.

The weight of his disinterest crushed against your chest, smothering you, and you wondered whether things would ever be the same again. Will he come to you eventually? Would he tell you about what was bothering him, or had you already lost him in ways you couldn’t fix?

You climbed back into bed, the sheets cold where he should have been beside you. And as the night stretched on in silence, you tried not to feel the unbearable emptiness that had settled in your heart, wondering if Felix would ever look at you the same way again.

seungmin

The front door creaked open, and you could hear Seungmin's footsteps in the hallway, dragging slightly, indicating how exhausted he must have been after a long day of practice and vocal lessons. You'd been waiting for him, possibly too eagerly, though you tried not to admit it. You had planned to talk, the conversation you'd been putting off for days because the silence had gotten unbearable. The subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he became more distant and engaged in his own world, weighed heavy on your chest.

You knew how busy he was, how much work he put into his training and craft. But it didn't take away the sting of feeling like an afterthought, as if you were no longer a part of his life. You had tried to keep it together, to give him his space when he needed it, but the continual feeling of being neglected was gradually pulling you apart. You needed him to see you. You needed him to care the way he used to, to put forth the same effort that you did.

So, as the door clicked shut and you heard him move toward the kitchen, you braced yourself and entered the hallway to greet him.

"Seungmin," you called softly, but there was no immediate response. He didn’t even look up, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You took a breath, trying to keep the anxiety from choking you. "Can we talk?" Your voice was steady, though you could feel the tremor beneath it. "It feels like we’re not the same anymore."

His footsteps faltered for half a second, and you thought maybe you had caught his attention. But instead of stopping, he just continued walking past you, brushing past your shoulder so closely you could feel the coldness radiating off him. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

"Seungmin," you said again, but this time there was a little crack in your voice, a vulnerability you didn't want to express. You needed him to hear and see you, even if just for a moment. But he did not stop. Finally, he gave a low, exasperated groan that hung between you like a wall. He turned halfway, his eyes flickering to you with an enigmatic expression. "Why do you always make things so dramatic?" His comments were harsh, cutting through the silence and making you flinch. "You're really clingy. Just leave me alone for once."

The words were like a punch to the gut. The force of them knocked the wind out of you, and your heart seemed to stop for just a moment, trapped somewhere in the space between your chest and throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say something so cold, so dismissive. All you had wanted was to talk, to bridge the distance that had formed between you, but now it felt like you were drowning in it.

Your body went still. You opened your mouth to respond, to explain how unfair that was, but no words came. How could you even argue against that? How could you explain that all you wanted was his attention, his care? You weren’t clingy you were hurt.

"Seungmin, I’m not—" The words tumbled out weakly, but they didn’t seem to matter.

"You are," he interrupted, his tone now flat, distant. "I don’t have the energy for this right now."

He turned away from you, heading toward the kitchen without another glance, leaving you standing in the hallway, shattered.

You stood there for a long moment, frozen in the aftermath of his words. Everything you had been holding back, all the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness that had built up over the last few weeks, was suddenly crashing down on you like a wave. Was that it? Was that all you were to him now? Someone who was too much to deal with?

You had never felt so small. So invisible.

You had tried to keep it together. You had told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that he was just stressed, that he didn’t mean it. But now, standing there in the hallway with nothing but the echo of his dismissal ringing in your ears, you realized that maybe this was the problem the distance. The lack of communication. The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you could never reach him, never get him to understand what you needed, what you were hurting from.

You wanted to chase after him, to try again, to make him see how much his words had stung. But something inside of you had broken. There was a voice inside you now that said, "It’s too late. You’ve tried. He doesn’t want to listen." And that was more painful than anything else knowing that, deep down, he didn’t even want to meet you halfway anymore.

You had hoped, and even prayed, that things would return to normal, that the love you once shared would reemerge. But standing there, you couldn't help but feel as if you were fighting a losing war. You didn't ask for much: simply his time, presence, and devotion. You never expected this level of coldness in return.

The silence in the home became intolerable, and each second felt like a weight on your chest. You wanted to yell at him and urge him to care, but all you could do was stand there, feeling the barriers between you two grow higher and higher.

You turned away slowly, your legs heavy, your head spinning with everything you had just heard. You didn’t know what hurt more: his words or the fact that he had walked past you like you were nothing.

You needed him to care, but right now, it felt like the person you needed was already gone.

I.N

The evening had been everything you hoped it would be: thrilling, warm, and full of laughing. You'd been dating Jeongin for about a year, and he was finally introducing you to his members. It seemed like an important milestone in your relationship. You'd heard so much about them, and now you'd get to meet the people he cared about the most. The anticipation had you beaming all evening as you helped Jeongin in cooking dinner, your heart filled with delight at the prospect of cooking together and spending time with the people who were such an important part of his life.

The dinner had gone smoothly. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with the sound of happy chatter and the clinking of silverware. The members were friendly, teasing each other and joking around. You could see why Jeongin was so close with them they were like brothers, comfortable and at ease with each other. You had felt so welcomed by them, their laughter contagious, and the food you had helped prepare had been met with praises.

As the night wore on, everyone settled into the living room, enjoying sweet treats and wine. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening, or so you had thought.

But as the evening wore on, you noticed something that made your stomach churn. Jeongin was distant. He had been quieter than normal, with his focus wandering. Normally, he would be the first to steal a kiss from you or press his hand on yours if you were close. But tonight? Tonight, it felt as if he was purposefully keeping distance between the two of you.

You brushed it off at first, believing he was just weary or stressed after introducing you to everyone. After all, meeting his members was a major step, and maybe he was just concerned with making sure things went smoothly.

But it wasn’t just that.

When you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, like you had done numerous times before without thinking twice, he pulled away almost immediately. The action was swift and sharp, as if you had done something wrong. You blinked in surprise, a frown tugging on your lips, but before you could ask what was wrong, he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, "Stop being so clingy." The words struck you like a physical punch. You froze, the warmth of your feelings for him vanished, replaced by a frigid knot of perplexity and embarrassment. Did he mean it? You could feel the weight of the members' gazes as you looked around the room, though no one said anything. But you could tell they had heard, the awkward silence that followed making it painfully clear.

You felt heat rising up your cheeks, humiliated. Had you overstepped? You had never been clingy before and had never thought of yourself in that way. But his comments, which were cutting and contemptuous, hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. The casual tenderness you had always shared seemed like a distant memory today, a bitter reminder of how things had changed without warning.

Jeongin had always been so warm and tactile with you. Kisses on your cheek while cooking, his arm slung over your shoulder while watching TV, all the little things that made you feel safe and cherished. But tonight? Tonight he was a different person.

You tried to ignore it, thinking maybe it was a bad moment. Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe something had happened at work or with the members that was weighing on him. But as the night continued, the distance between you only seemed to grow. When you tried to brush your hand against his, he pulled it away, a small frown on his face. When you tried to rest your head on his shoulder again, he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your touch with a small sigh.

It was as if you were a stranger to him, someone he couldn’t stand to be close to.

Your heart dropped. It was a feeling you never expected to have with him, the type of coldness that made you question everything, including the entire foundation of your relationship. You had no idea what was going on in his mind, but the way he was treating you now felt so different from the Jeongin you had fell for.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and prevent yourself from entirely disintegrating. The quiet hum of the talk in the living room followed you as you walked back, the members' voices merging into the background as your thoughts occupied you.

Was he angry with you? Had you done something wrong? Maybe he was embarrassed by you, by your clinginess. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen as the guy who couldn’t control his girlfriend. Maybe you were being too needy, too dependent, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe he had changed, and you were the one who had failed to notice.

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm the tightness in your chest. When you returned to the living room, you tried to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. But the look on Jeongin’s face when you came back made your stomach twist even further. He didn’t smile at you like he usually did. He didn’t reach for you. He just sat there, a distance between you that felt like an ocean.

You sat down again, feeling smaller than you had with him before. You did not want to confront him in front of the other members. Not when things were going so well. You didn't want to ruin the evening or make things uncomfortable for everyone. But the awkwardness was already there. It seemed like a thick cloud suffocating you, and you knew he felt the same way.

Eventually, the evening came to an end. The group began saying their goodbyes, laughing and conversing, although their voices were scarcely audible. You were too consumed by the subtle tension between you and Jeongin, who hadn't spoken anything to you since your previous conversation. You gently grabbed your stuff, not quite meeting his eyes.

When you reached the door, Jeongin still hadn’t moved. He was standing by the couch, talking to one of the members, completely ignoring you. It wasn’t how you thought it would go. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would end.

It wasn’t until you were halfway out the door that he finally spoke, his voice distant, flat. "You okay?" he asked, as if the tension between you hadn’t been there all evening.

You stood frozen, looking back at him, your chest tight. You wanted to say so many things. You wanted to ask why he was acting this way, to demand an explanation, to tell him how hurt you were by the way he had dismissed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied softly, your voice quiet, strained. "I’m fine."

And then you stepped out, leaving the apartment behind, the discomfort and uncertainty lingering in the air like a thick cloud. You had no idea what had happened or what had caused this abrupt change, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something in your relationship had just broken. Something that might not be fixable.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you weren't sure if Jeongin noticed.

//

(proofread ❌)

masterlist

[djarindroid]

Barely Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: An unexpected connection in the games challenges your will to keep going.

Warnings: Usual Squid Game stuff, drugs, depression, suicidal thoughts. Thanos is definitely ooc in some places

Word Count: 2,331

Comments: I hope you like this! 💕 I haven't written in a while but watching Squid Game I knew I had to do something for Thanos. I already have a rough idea for a part 2...

The past few days had been the worst of your life. You were told that you’d just be playing a few games with a chance to win some money to pay off your debt. No one mentioned that your life, and so many others’, would be on the line. How someone could subject others to this was beyond you.

After the second game you’d retreated back to the dormitories with the group you’d managed to survive with. Despite banding together you still felt hopelessly alone, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget any of this had happened.

But how could you forget? How could you forget all the people you’d seen die? How could you forget the feeling of warm blood splattering across your face? How could you ever forget this feeling of guilt? Guilt that you were still standing whilst so many others had fallen.

You sat at the back of your bunk, knees drawn up, whilst your hands trembled in front of you. 

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the other players, some sat in groups, some picking at the remnants of the food handed out moments ago, and then your eyes landed on him.

Player 230, Choi Su-Bong or Thanos as he had introduced himself. His bright purple hair wasn’t the only thing making him stand out. He was leaning casually, his expression detached and seemingly completely unfazed. As if he wasn’t affected by the terror surrounding him.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers clenched and unclenched as you tried to gather some courage. Maybe you should just stay on your bunk, try and let this wave of hopelessness pass on its own. But no matter how much you told yourself, the deep ache in your chest refused to subside.  

Finally, you managed to push yourself to your feet, making your way across the room. Your footsteps felt too loud, echoing around you as you walked. A few players briefly glanced at you before turning away, uninterested in what you were doing. You heard the small voice in the back of your head, telling you to turn around, but you kept going, driven by a desperation to feel nothing.

As you approached you watched as player 124, who was sitting on the floor near Thanos, nudged his leg, nodding his head towards you. Thanos instantly perked up, a cocky smirk taking over his face. 

‘Hey girl,’ he cooed as you got close. ‘Did you wanna come join the Thanos world?’ He crossed his arms over his chest as he deliberately looked you up and down

Your stomach twisted, hearing player 124 snicker at what had been said. You pushed forward regardless. ‘I was just hoping… I know you have… Could I…’ You tried and failed multiple times to get the words out, your cheeks burned hotter at each failed attempt. You felt so foolish, so small, and Thanos’ response didn’t help with your nerves. 

‘Aw look, the pretty girl is nervous to talk to me,’ he said with a mocking pout. ‘Don’t be señorita,’ he stepped forward, bending down to your eye level whilst invading your personal space. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added with another smirk.

Your hands trembled more, you shoved them into your pockets to try and still them. Of course this had been a bad idea, but you desperately wanted to stop this feeling, the seemingly bottomless pit inside you threatening to swallow you whole. You knew Thanos had what you needed. 

‘I know you have something in your necklace,’ you murmured, voice barely audible. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes. ‘I…I just want to stop feeling like this.’

He sighed and straightened himself, ‘you know I have something huh?’ He shook his head before carrying on, ‘I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.’ He shooed you away dismissively with his hand as he said ‘go on, go back to your side.’

Panic rose in you, quick and suffocating. No. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You couldn’t take it anymore. Every waking moment was a nightmare, and even in sleep, the images of people being shot haunted you. Your breath quickened, you’d managed to get the courage to come over here, you couldn’t let yourself go back still feeling like this.

Your knees were ready to buckle but you managed to stand straighter. ‘Please,’ you whispered as you finally looked into his eyes. You tried to convey everything in that one word, every ounce of fear and despair you were feeling as you repeated it again. ‘Please.’

His gaze pinned you in place, and for just a second you thought you saw his expression falter, maybe a flicker of pity. For that brief moment you thought he might actually listen, that he might offer you what you were asking for.

But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked you up and down once more, his tone flat as he said, ‘you don’t want what I have.’ You opened your mouth to argue but he held his finger up to your lips. ‘Save your breath, the answers no. Go back over there.’ 

The finality in his tone hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened as you watched him turn his back to you. A lump in your throat appeared and you fought back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly lowered your head, hiding your face from the room as you scurried back to your bed.

Thanos, settled into the spot beside Nam-Gyu, he let his gaze linger briefly on your retreating figure. You looked so hopeless, curling into yourself on your bed. His smirk faded slightly and the edges of his eyes softened.

Was it guilt he felt? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the uncomfortable weight of knowing you’d looked to him for help in such a way. For a moment he’d almost given in, but he knew what he had wasn’t the answer for someone like you. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d whispered to him, it clung to him heavily as he forced himself to pay attention to whatever the people around him were saying.

By some miracle you had survived through most of the third game, aided by the chaos of other people scrambling to reach the correct numbers before sprinting towards the doors surrounding the room. You hadn’t earned your survival this time, it had been handed to you by those more ruthless.

You dragged yourself back to the centre platform, the others that had used you to make up the required amount already abandoning you.The smell of blood hung thick in the air, making your stomach turn. How many more rounds would this drag on for? How many more bodies would be carted off in boxes before this finished?

You glanced down at your shoes, once bright white, now smeared in others' blood. The platform beneath you began to turn again, but the spinning in your head was worse. You knew you should have been paying attention to what number was going to be called, but what was the point? You’d only been a spare this entire game, why bother to start looking for people now?

‘TWO,’ the number was called and people immediately began shouting and dragging each other off. Time slowed down for you as you stood frozen to the spot. You had no one. There wasn’t a single person around you that didn’t already have a partner. Today would be the day, you thought. Tears welled in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if you were sad or relieved that this hell would be over for you.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you forward. You stumbled, heart pounding in your ears, as you attempted to keep up with whoever had grabbed you. You could barely register what was happening, but then you saw the flash of his purple hair. 

Thanos?! 

There was no time to question why he’d chosen you, he had you, and the two of you were nearing one of the rooms. As you approached, another player lunged for you, trying to shove you out of the way and take your place. Thanos didn’t hesitate, he kicked the stranger hard, sending them flying to the ground. His grip on you tightened as he practically shoved you through the door with only seconds to spare. 

The door locked behind you, you’d made it. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting, overshadowed but the sound of gunshots and screams outside. Your legs faltered and you collapsed against the far wall. Thanos remained by the door, his body blocking the view as he watched the aftermath through the small window.

You should thank him, you knew you should. He’d saved you, pulling you from the edge of defeat. But the words wouldn’t come, all you could do was sink to the floor, and wrap your arms around your knees. You’d both made it to the end of the third game. You were alive. So why did you still feel nothing?

Thanos slid down the wall beside you, he rested his arms on his knees and kept his gaze ahead. ‘How come you froze up out there? Don't you have anyone here?’ 

You thought for a moment, debating telling him at this point you’ve accepted your fate so why prolong it. You tapped your fingers on your knees anxiously as you searched for an answer that didn’t let him know how badly you’d given up. ‘I didn’t want to be a burden,’ you muttered. ‘I just..I thought I would wait.’

He let out a short laugh, ‘good thing I waited too then, huh? Without me you’d be out there in one of those boxes.’ He nudged your shoulder lightly, as if he was joking with you but there was no humour in this situation.

You didn’t respond, your eyes caught sight of him idly playing with the cross that hung around his neck, the chain snaking around his fingers. When he tilted his head towards you, his eyes met yours and you saw the dilation in his pupils, evidence of whatever high he’d been on to get through this.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, though his expression was unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he was trying to read your mind. ‘I wasn’t gonna leave you out there,’ he said finally, his voice calmer. ‘Couldn’t watch you just give up like that.’

You blinked at him and before you could stop yourself you were asking, ‘why do you care?’

He shrugged, briefly glancing away before meeting your eyes again. ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I feel like you need protecting, and maybe I thought I could be the one to do that.’ 

You chuckled at that, though there was no humour in your laughter. ‘Do I really look that pathetic?’ 

He seemed taken aback. 'Someone had to step in,’ he replied bluntly. ‘You were just gonna let yourself lose.’

‘Maybe I wanted to lose.’ You snapped. ‘You don’t owe me anything so don’t bother protecting me. I’m not worth it.’

He took a moment to really look at you, leaning in slightly with an uncharacteristically serious tone he asked, ‘is that really what you think?’

Your breath hitched. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over and you buried your face into your hands.  ‘I just… I can’t take this anymore.’ you choked out. ‘This place, it’s not worth the money. I don’t care anymore, I just don’t want to be here.’

The weight of your despair hung heavily around you, your shoulders shook as you continued to sob. The emotions you’d managed to keep at bay flooding out all at once. Thanos remained silent for a moment, before lightly resting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Listen,’ his tone was softer than you thought possible. ‘This place screws with you, you already know what I’ve been doing to get through.’ He tapped his necklace briefly. ‘But there’s life after this place, so you’ve gotta keep trying, until your last breath.’

You moved your face away from your hands to once again look up at him. He exhaled slowly as he looked at your tear stained face. He carefully took your face in his hands and wiped away the tears. 

The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a sharp contrast to how you expected him to be. For a brief moment you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. Through all of his flaws Thanos was showing you a different side, something real. The way he had moved revealed the blue O badge attached to his jacket. You briefly glanced at it.

‘Urgh fine,’ he said with a dramatic sigh, catching your look at the badge. ‘If I vote to leave this time will you stop crying.’ His head flopped to the side as he threw on a fake pout.

You couldn’t stop the weak laugh that escaped you at his theatrics. His small attempt to lighten your mood worked, if only a little. You nodded ‘yeah, I’ll stop crying.’

‘Good, pretty girls shouldn’t cry like that.’ He smirked. 

The sound of the door unlocking suddenly caught both of your attention, bringing you back to the present. He stood, holding his hand out to you which you gladly accepted. His grip was steady, grounding, and for the first time since entering this hell you didn’t feel completely alone.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling you to your feet.  ‘Let’s get you outta here señorita.’ 

As you both walked towards the door the weight of everything you’d been through still lingered but something had shifted. You started to let yourself believe that you could keep going, maybe you weren’t completely broken after all. And the strangest part? It was Thanos who had given that to you.

[kaijutegu]

Ranking the Reptiles of Vintage Men's Magazines

Men's pulp magazines have some of the wildest paintings for their cover art, and some of those feature lizards. Let's rank them!

We are NOT ranking these on accuracy or believability, we are ranking these on how much fun I, your good friend kaijutegu, find them to look at. These were never trying to be accurate. They were trying to sell magazines. Also I'm not allowed to critique human anatomy or we will be here all day.

This man is beset by wantons who ruined a nation! These dragons he's crawling with took him for a one-way ride, and now he has to pistol whip them until they stop biting his leg. I love how these lizards have more than a hint of rhino iguana to them, as well as the Crystal Palace megalosaurus. A tier.

This man looks shocked to discover that sex can be fun. I know, I don't believe it either. The snakes are interesting- I really love the lurid green fangs and tongue on the guy in front, but I would like to see more. B tier, I'm just not all that into it but I am intrigued.

NOW we're talking, this cover has it ALL. Come to beautiful san antonio where our women are clearly wearing skin-colored shirts underneath their regular shirts so they can breast boobily without worrying about a nip slip and our turtles are pissed. S tier.

This cover gets points for the painterly style, but loses them for the rude-ass man. The sex queen of Sicily and the cannibal crocodile they couldn't kill were just having a nice dance, and along comes this man and... how did he make that shot actually? B+ tier.

See that crocodile in the foreground? My lizard makes the exact face when she's begging for sushi. A tier.

There's something so charming to me about the way GIVE ME BACK MY ARM is phrased and like, two of you are going to get what it's pinging in my head but bear with me. Back in the day (literally 20 years ago at this point, jfc), the USPS put out this "put yourself in my shoes" safety notice about controlling your dog, and the goons over at Something Awful got hold of it and decided to have some fun with it and one of the remixes they made, the thing that started a whole big ol' meme thread that got turned into a CG post, was this one:

Something about the GIVE ME BACK MY ARM reminded me of this. Anyways I loved that thread, A tier, thanks for the memories.

I know I said that these were never meant to be accurate, but look at this one, the guy CLEARLY was looking at a reference for this alligator! Don't know why he drew the glottis like that, though. A tier.

Oh this, this I love. Incomprehensible snakes taking their babies on a field trip? Adorable! A tier!

The tongue doesn't go in the glottis. D tier, I know I said they weren't trying for accuracy but come on.

These selfless lizards know that this man is unfit for married love and are trying to rescue that woman from an awful fate. She's going to wed that man, but she's making a huge mistake, and they know it and they're powerless to stop her- but they're gonna try, by god. This is Good Luck, Babe! but with lizards instead of Joan of Arc at the VMAs. It's fine, it's cool, S+ tier.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ swan song ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! please be sure to check out their profile for squid game fanfictions, they have helped me with my works and their writing is perfection! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ the rain cascaded in a relentless downpour, burying the world in its somber rhythm. you stood motionless, soaked to the bone, your tattered black satin gown clinging to your pallid skin, pearls glinting faintly in the dim moonlight. across from you stood cho sang-woo, his tailored suit stained with smears of blood that had long since dried, a stark contrast to the high-class reputation he once upheld. there had been a time when the sight of him would have filled you with affection, a time when you had imagined him as your husband, the man you would spent all of eternity with.

˚ ༘♡ the man before you now bore no resemblance to the one you had loved so deeply. where once there had been kindness, there was now a malicious cruelty. the charm that had drawn you in, the quiet strength and righteous honesty, had been nothing more than a facade. before the games, your lives had seemed perfect, lavish dinners at exclusive steakhouses, extravagant shopping trips, the allure of wealth. yet it was never the riches that held your heart. you had loved him for the moments of vulnerability, the whispered dreams during midnight strolls, the promises of a future built on trust. now, those memories felt like lies, twisted shadows of a man who no longer existed.

˚ ༘♡ his grip on the knife was steady, the same blade he had used to take sae-byeok’s life. you could still see her fragile form laid on the ground, blood swarming under her stiff body as her she weakly murmured her little brother’s name. she had begged for another chance to see him again, her eyes glazed with fear and dread, only to be silenced in a merciless slashing. that moment was etched into your soul, an infested wound that refused to heal. you had pleaded with gi-hun to spare sang-woo when the opportunity arose, your love for him, a ghost of what it once was, still clinging to the hope that he could be saved. however, sparing him had been a mistake.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo had demonstrated no remorse. he had turned his blade on gi-hun after being confronted for sae-byeok’s murder, killing his childhood best friend with little hesitation, leaving you as the only two left to face the end. now, as the rain fell in endless torrents, you stood in the storm’s heart, the past unraveling between you. the love you had once cherished lay shattered at your feet, replaced by a chasm of betrayal and regret.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you called out, your voice steady despite the quivering in your limbs. your gaze locked onto his, and slowly, deliberately, you let the knife slip from your grasp. it landed in the rain-soaked sand with a muted thud, quickly swallowed by the muck. droplets cascaded down your face, obscuring your vision, but you didn’t look away. “you’ve killed so many,” you said, your voice carrying over the storm, though faint and muffled. “innocent strangers, people who trusted you, those who loved you. i’m no different.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched as his face contorted with rage. “pick up the damn knife!” he shouted, his voice raw and jagged. his body shook, a mix of fury and something more fragile, a deep, unspoken torment etched into his expression. his eyes betrayed him, scorned and sorrowful.

˚ ༘♡ “i will not,” you replied softly, your soaked hair sticking to your melancholic face. “i won’t fight you. i can’t.” your breathing troubled as you continued, words tumbling out between the harsh pouring of the rain. “even if i won… what would it matter? what’s left for me to go back to? the money won’t mend this. it can’t rid what’s been done, the people we’ve lost, the pieces of ourselves we’ll never get back.”

˚ ༘♡ for a split second, his grip on the knife loosened, his fingers moving as though fighting an internal war, but just as quickly, they tightened. blood trailed down the cut across his face, mingling with the rain, streaking his skin with crimson. “for fuck’s sake!” he barked, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “stop being so difficult and come here! let’s finish this!”

˚ ༘♡ “no, sang-woo,” you said firmly, taking a step toward him, unarmed, your hands open at your sides. “if the money is all you care about, if you’re so desperate to go back and see your mother, to undo all your mistakes, to lead the life you desire, to have a beautiful home, a loving wife, good children, then kill me. go ahead. take the knife and end the game.”

˚ ༘♡ tears burned your eyes, falling hot and salty down your face before the rain could wash them away. you moved closer, mere inches from him now, your voice low and steady, almost a whisper. “do it,” you murmured. “you’ll have to, or neither of us gets anything, and i won’t hurt you, sang-woo.”

˚ ༘♡ his arm lifted, the knife angled toward your chest. his jaw tightened, his breathing ragged, but he didn’t strike. the blade hovered between you, shaking ever so slightly. “i… i can’t kill you,” he said, his voice breaking as the words escaped him.

˚ ༘♡ “but you could kill sae-byeok?” you asked, voice hoarse, choking on your words, your lips curving downward in a frown. “you could kill gi-hun? their lives meant less than mine? sae-byeok had her little brother waiting for her, and gi-hun has a daughter who will never understand why her father didn’t come back.” your voice grew softer, mellowed by despair. “their lives were important, sang-woo. their lives held no less value than yours or mine.”

˚ ༘♡ his face became grim, a flash of anguish breaking through his hardened mask. “don’t you think i understand that?” he shouted, his voice catching on the words. his free hand pressed against his chest as though the pain inside was physical, unbearable. “i didn’t do it because i wanted to! you think i enjoyed it? you think i’m a sadist?” his voice cracked, his desperation bleeding into every word. “everything i’ve done… i had no choice! i have to fix this. i have to make it right. otherwise, what was all of this for? the sacrifices, the suffering, it will mean nothing!”

˚ ༘♡ the rain fell harder, drowning out the quietude, as his words hung in the air, each one more bitter than the last. you could see it, the guilt embedded into his aged face, the torment tearing him apart, but it didn’t undo the blood on his hands.

˚ ༘♡ your fingers wrapped around his trembling hand, guiding the blade to your throat. the cold metal kissed your skin, and your voice was composed despite the tears falling freely down your face. “go home, sang-woo,” you said softly, your grip strengthened to keep his hand close to you.

˚ ༘♡ his face was streaked with rain and tears now, his composure unraveling. his breathing was uneven, his chest heaving as he tried to pull the knife away. “i won’t do it,” he choked out, his voice hoarse, trembling with something between anguish and resolve. his fingers curled tighter around the hilt, but not to push forward, only to keep it from you. “i won’t kill you.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the rain pounding against the earth. your gaze shifted to the stormy horizon, staring blankly at the void ahead. “sang-woo,” you whispered, your tone solemn, distant. “do you remember that night you stayed over at my place? you said you liked my cooking, even though we both knew it was awful. and i laughed at all your ridiculous, outdated jokes and listened to your business jargon, even when i didn’t know half the terms you used, i liked being the woman you spent your days with.” a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips, though it was short-lived, disappearing as quickly as it came. “that’s the day i remember the most. not the gifts, not the trips, not the money. none of it mattered to me. only mattered. i wanted you, nothing else.”

˚ ༘♡ his breath snagged, his lips parting to speak, but no words came. you turned your tear-streaked face toward him, meeting his tormented gaze. “it will never be like that again,” you said, your voice breaking. “we can’t go back, sang-woo. not after everything.”

˚ ༘♡ before he could react, you wrenched the knife from his hand with a sudden, sharp motion. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face as he reached for you. but it was too far too late. the blade pierced your throat with brutal precision, and the warmth of your blood poured over your trembling hands. you staggered, the world moving and fading around you, your legs giving out beneath you as you collapsed.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo…” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you crumpled to the wet sand. scarlet-red ichor spilled out in thick rivers, melding with the rain-soaked earth.

˚ ༘♡ “no!” he screamed, his voice raw and broken, as he fell to his knees beside you. quivering hands reached for you, lifting your head from the wet sand as rain pelted down in icy sheets. his tears mingled with the blood streaking your face, his sobs shaking his entire body. “please, no… don’t do this,” he choked out, desperation lacing every word. “stay with me, please.”

˚ ༘♡ you opened your mouth to speak, but the words came weak, barely audible over the thunderous rain. “my… my family,” you sputtered, your voice thick with the blood flooding your throat. each breath was a struggle, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. “tell them… tell them i won’t be there anymore, okay?” your fingers, trembling and cold, lifted to brush against his bloodied cheek. your touch was feather-light, tender despite your waning strength. “sang-woo… please, don’t forget me, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ his face was agonized, tears streaming past the injuries that marred his angular features, it was rare to see him so emotional, so delirious with grief. “i won’t,” he swore, his voice cracking beneath the strain of his grief. “i won’t forget you. i’ll never…” he stopped, his words caught in his throat as he pressed his hands to the gaping wound on your neck, desperate to stop the flow of blood. it was a futile effort, the red blood spilled through his fingers, staining the sand beneath you. “please, stay with me,” he whispered, his voice shatterred into a sob. “don’t leave me. please. i can’t live without you.”

˚ ༘♡ his desperate efforts were all in vain. the life was draining from your body, the world dimming around you. your breaths came slower, softer, each one feeling close to your last. his frantic cries grew distant, muffled as if you were slipping underwater. your vision blurred, the storm above fading into oblivion. and yet, through it all, his face remained clear as could be, the pain in his dark eyes burned into your thoughts.

˚ ༘♡ the last sound you heard was not his voice, but something colder, emptier. an emotionless voice echoed through the air, chilling and robotic, void of anything human.

˚ ༘♡ “player 177, eliminated.”

˚ ༘♡ you exhaled one final breath, your hand falling limply from sang-woo’s bloodied face as the darkness consumed you.

a/n: another cho sang-woo fanfiction!! he’s my favorite character so there will definitely be more for him!!! please let me know you if any requests and your thoughts on this story! 🤍

[minswriting]

Could you make a fic where the reader is a member of the bau and she has crush on hotch and she has a dream about him then she’s really attracted to hotchs hands and he notices and he starts to like flex his hands infront of her and teases her about it then they fuck

Sorry if that doesn’t make sense lmao 💀

i wrote something similar but not exact. i hope you still enjoy though! this is longer than i expected lol. so here is 1,000 words about aaron’s hands

mdni - hand kink, fingering (f receiving) , praise

You couldn’t help looking at Aaron’s fingers as he gave the presentation on the case. You tried your best to pay attention to the case, you really did. But every time you looked at Aaron, your gaze would fixate on his fingers as your thoughts would drift to not-so-innocent places. It was wrong, you knew it was. Aaron was your boss, you were his subordinate. And yet, here you were, thinking about getting absolutely fingered blasted by your boss.

By the time you all touched down in Minneapolis, Minnesota, you tried your best to ignore your inappropriate thoughts. You tried your best to remain focused on the case and to not pay attention to Hotch unless absolutely necessary. But it was hard when everyone was sat in the precinct and Aaron had his fingers intertwined together as he sat and listened to everyone discuss the case.

Your mind drifted as you thought about the way Aaron’s fingers would feel inside of you, working you to an orgasm. You put one leg over the other, a subtle way to clench your thighs without anyone noticing. And after a sip of coffee, you got yourself out of your thoughts and back to the case.

After a long night, everyone had gone to the hotel with no leads on the case. It was frustrating, to say the least, but you were grateful. Perhaps an orgasm and a good night’s rest would help you be more focused for tomorrow. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt, when there was a knock at your hotel door. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You walked over to the door, looking out the peephole to see Aaron standing there and without hesitation, you opened the door.

“Is everything alright?” You asked as you opened the door, looking at your boss as he stood in front of you.

Aaron eyed you, taking in your appearance. “I actually came here to ask you the same thing,” He said, a concerned look in his eye. “Your mind seemed elsewhere today and I wanted to check in with you to make sure you were alright.”

Because of course, he noticed your behavior. Your cheeks visibly reddened, causing you to look down at the ground in embarrassment before you turned your gaze back to Aaron’s face. “I-uh, yeah, I’m okay,” You replied, clearing your throat. You moved to open the door wider, allowing Aaron into the room. You closed the door behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked gently, standing in your hotel room. “If there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it. While I am your unit chief, I am also here for you as a friend and I want you to feel-”

“It’s your hands,” You interrupted Aaron from his rambling, visibly cringing at yourself.

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you with his chocolate brown eyes that made you feel so weak in the knees. “My hands?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip. You were standing a good distance away from Aaron, knowing that this confession could very well cost you your position or at the very least, cause an awkward relationship with your boss. “They’re very…distracting, sir,” you said, still biting your lip.

“Is that so?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow, and taking a step towards you. That single step established something between the two of you that neither of you would back out of. “How are they distracting?” His voice went a bit lower. He was standing right in front of you as he spoke.

“I-I-uh,” You stuttered as you hadn’t expected such a reaction from Aaron. The proximity made your heart race, and your reddened cheeks felt as though they got hotter.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Aaron murmured, putting a tentative hand on your cheek.

And that’s how you landed on the edge of the mattress, naked, with Aaron sitting between your legs with his sleeves rolled up. He had two fingers buried inside of your cunt, moving at a slow pace as he got a feel for your pussy. “God, you’re soaking, sweetheart,” he said, licking his lips as he looked at your cunt and then at your face.

You let out a shaky whine, watching as Aaron’s fingers disappeared in and out of you. You were desperate, to say the least. You’ve been so turned on all day today and now that you were finally getting relief, in a way that you hadn’t expected to happen, you knew you weren’t going to last long. “Feels so good,” You moaned, biting your lip as you looked at Aaron.

Aaron hummed, speeding up his movements as he curled his fingers inside of you. “I’m glad, sweetheart,” he said, a small smile on his lips as he watched you. You were beautiful with your eyes blown out, cheeks red, and pussy glistening. All because of Aaron. He knew it was wrong. He was indeed your boss but he could hardly care when your body so clearly needs him.

You moaned a bit louder as Aaron curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on. “O-oh, fuck,” You moaned, feeling yourself getting close. The heat was growing in your abdomen. “I-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aaron said, fingering you at a consistent rhythm. “Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me.”

And that’s all you needed to let go as you clamped your thighs around Aaron’s hand, shaking as you came around his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, your toes curled, and your back arched. You were absolutely a sight to behold and it was all because of Aaron. Which is why he made you cum at least three more times before he fucked you into oblivion.

[lordprettyflackotara]

vixen || the proxies

‘lust and drugs, no intuition’

sum: after succeeding in a particularly hard mission, The Operator decides to gift the proxies something they need more than anything else: a stress reliever

tw: filth. pure filthy smut. minors dni. FOURSOME. double penetration, drug usage (don’t do drugs), prostitute!reader, mask play, lowkey humiliation if you squint, throat fucking, overstimulation on the low

a/n: this shit was sooo fun to write. happy 3k!!!

“This was a stupid ass idea.”

Hoodie grumbled, slouching dramatically in his seat. Masky’s side eye was cold, his eyes narrowing under his mask. “How often do we get rewards from The Operator? Besides, do you have a better idea on how to spend it?” Masky asked bitterly. Hoodie rolled his eyes, propping his head on his hand. It would be any moment you were scheduled to arrive, the stale scent of the hotel room making Hoodie cringe.

It wasn’t often The Operator gave his proxies some free time, nevertheless offered a reward for good behavior. Recently the three of them, Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, had somehow won The Operator over just enough for him to grant them some stress relief. “Kate had a better idea, she was smart enough to ask for a steak,” Hoodie grumbled unhappily. It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the prospect of fucking whatever girl waltzed through the door. More so that he had to stay around Masky and Toby to experience it. He and Masky were constantly at each other’s throats, while Toby just annoyed him to shreds. His patience was wearing more thin by the day.

“Kate is also borderline feral and rarely speaks comprehensive words,” Masky argued. While he was trying to keep his cool, his own nerves were becoming evident as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Where were you? “How m-many did boss get us?” Toby chimed in. He had been quiet up until now, Hoodies suspicious that it was due to his obvious inexperience with women. “I’d assume one for each of us, right? He’s swimming in money, it can’t be that expensive to get three,” Hoodie answered. He wondered if they’d fight over who got who. A soft knock at the motel door made the three of them go silent, Masky hesitantly stepping over to the door. He peaked through the peak hole, before unlocking it. To the trio’s surprise you were the only one standing there, your hand clutching your small purse.

“Hi um, i’m looking for the uh-” You paused, reading a crumbled up note you had been clinging onto, “the proxies..?”

Your voice was unsure, Masky giving you an affirmative nod and signaling you to come in. Toby had seen prostitutes many of times, on television at least. But you didn’t look like any of them, the stereotypes all wrong. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, there were supposed to be three of you,” Masky told you, gently shutting the door behind you. Your eyes nervously dragged to his face, staring at his eerie mask. “Right, about that, well-” You began, clearly nervous. Hoodie couldn’t help but wonder why you were more jittery than they were. “Your boss put on this note that this is a team exercise as much as a reward, the three of you meant to work together with, well, just me,” You explained.

Oh.

Oh.

No wonder you were shaking in your boots. Three masked men eyeing you like prey, whose mouths were borderline salivating at the thought of fucking you. Masky grabbed the note from you, reading it himself. “You have got to be kidding me,” He grumbled, reading the familiar handwriting. In annoyance he dug in his pockets looking for a box of cigarettes. “All three of us? Is he insane? Look at her, we’ll break her,” He said, gesturing to you. True, you were smaller in stature compared to the three men. Toby stood up first, putting his orange goggles on top of his head. He rounded you like a wild animal, soaking in as much of your body as he could with his eyes. “S-She does look a b-b-bit small,” Toby agreed. Hoodie tilted his head to the side as he studied you. He was always interested in watching how people reacted to one another.

To his surprise despite how intimidating he knew the three of them were, he noticed the light tint of pink that had spread across your cheeks. “Actually, your boss offered me the job specifically. Said out of all of my girls and I, i’d be the only one who could handle it,” You admitted. This confession made Hoodie rise from his chair, walking up to you quickly. His gloved hand squeezed your face, forcing you to pucker out your lips like a fish. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation sweetheart. We’re not like the married men you pluck off of the streets. We can seriously hurt you,” He snarled. His ski mask stared down at you ominously, the tension in the room only becoming thicker by the minute.

“Actually, that’s why I accepted the offer,” You countered. Hoodie’s hardened facade cracked for a moment, his hand loosening. “Said you three with rough around the edges, but that you’d indulge in my darkest fantasies,” You confessed, your face turning a darker shade of red. Masky tossed the note aside, taking a step closer to you. “Oh yeah princess? And that’s that?” The brunette asked. Three sets of eyes stared at you intensely, awaiting your next words. “To be fucked ruthlessly by three mysterious men in mask,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Hoodie couldn’t hide his smirk, his eyes flickering up to his companions. “I think she’s starting to grow on me,” He purred, releasing his grip on your face.

“Before we begin, I also have these,” You say, digging into your purse and pulling out four pills. The boys rounded you in a circle, eyeing them suspiciously. “What’s t-that?” Toby asked. You scratched the back of your neck, as if you weren’t completely sure yourself. “Your boss attached them to the note. Said they’d help us all loosen up a bit,” You explained. Toby was the first to reach for one, popping the tiny pill without a second thought. “Well shit, if the kids doing it,” Hoodie grumbled, following his lead. You met Masky’s gaze, the last two pills sitting in the palm of your hand. “Ladies first, princess,” He said. You had taken ecstasy dozens of times before, but never with clients. You had known of The Operator for years, the girls you worked alongside serving his men on occasion. He had never requested you before though and he had never given his proxies an opportunity like this.

You hard swallowed the pill, cringing as it scraped against the back of your throat. Masky finally took the last pill from your hand, swallowing it as if it meant nothing. “You sure about this sweetheart?” Hoodie purred mockingly, admiring how flustered you already seemed. You shrugged off your trench coat, revealing nothing underneath. Toby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, soaking in every curve that was exposed. “Knees, princess,” Masky barked, regaining your attention. You did as instructed, your knees scraping against the crusty old carpet. You couldn’t deny the bubbling in your stomach as the three of them surrounded you, undoing their belts in unison. The mixed clinking sounded like heaven to you, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip.

Toby had taken out his cock first, your mouth gravitating towards him. You licked the bottom of his length from the bottom to his tip, kitten licking his slit. He visibly shuddered, causing you to grin. “You do that too much to the kid he’ll cum right now,” Hoodie snickered. Masky had casually lit a cigarette, tilting his mask up just enough to inhale the stick. “S-Shut up,” Toby argued weakly. Your hands found their way to Masky and Hoodies cocks, Masky more girthy and Hoodie longer. Toby was an even mix of the two, your mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. Your hands jerked the older proxies off, your eyes never straying from Toby’s face. The bottom half of his face was covered with a face mask, but his eyes. Oh, his sweet and delicious eyes stared down at you. You had captivated him, the way you took him to the base.

A rough hand grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you off of Toby’s twitching cock. “Quit hoggin’ her,” Hoodie snarled. He shoved you onto his cock, your eyes welling up with tears as he hit the back of your throat. You struggled to keep up with his aggression, your jaw going slack as he face fucked you. “Shit, her mascaras running already,” Masky grumbled, inhaling his cigarette sharply. He rutted his hips into your hand, as he exhaled. Your core was aching, your thighs subtly rubbing together to create some form of friction. You could feel the ecstasy taking effect much faster than normal, your ultimate fantasy coming true before your very eyes. Fuck, you owed their boss big time.

Hoodie yanked you off of his cock, a string of saliva attached from his tip to your lips. “Open up your mouth pretty girl, let’s see if you can fit all of us at once,” Masky smirked. He could feel himself letting loose, his gloved hand grabbing your chin. You tried to open your mouth as wide as possible, the three of their cocks competing to shove their way in. “Can’t even suck three cocks? Pathetic. What’re you getting paid for?” Hoodie spat, a sadistic smile hidden by his ski mask. You struggled to breathe as they guided you onto the bed, Masky’s hand grabbing your chin first. “Either these drugs are really good or you’re looking really fuckin pretty princess,” He grumbled. He could feel warmth spreading through out his body, the exhaled cigarette smoke escaping through the sides of his mask. He loomed over you, leaning close towards your ear.

Your body was practically vibrating with anticipation, a chill running down your spine. “Maybe sometime i’ll have you for myself, just you and me,” Masky rambled, talking more than he usually did. A firm set of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, resulting in your back colliding with the mattress. “You’re s-s-supposed to share, remember?” Toby asked, relieved at the sight of your bare breast. He eagerly leaned over, pulling down his mask. His gash was hidden on the over side of his face, his pale gray skin a light shade of pink as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back nearly arched off of the bed, your nipples hardened and more sensitive than normal. “Hey loverboy, since you’re so in love go ahead and make yourself useful and stretch her out for us, will you?” Hoodie asked, tapping the head of his cock on your lips. Your tongue rolled out on instinct, licking the underside of his shaft.

Masky tossed the cigarette aside, using his gloved hands to pry apart your thighs. Your cunt was so wet it was almost dripping down your thighs, a sight so painfully mouth watering it took everything in him to not yank off his mask and dig in. Instead he took a deep breath, his body buzzing with euphoria. “Keep her mouth busy,” He replied. Hoodie smirked at his command, shoving his cock down into your mouth. With confidence you were unable to see him, the brunette slipped off his mask. He used two of his gloved fingers to open your folds, admiring your drenched sex. “Fuck, she’s so fuckin wet for us,” Masky grumbled, before attaching his lips to your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure almost mind numbing as he sucked harshly at your clit. Toby released your nipple, the bud growing only more sensitive from the abandonment of his warm mouth.

Toby reattached his mouth to your other breast, ignoring the feeling of your heart pounding against your rib cage as he sucked. “Feelin good sweetheart?” Hoodie asked mockingly, his ominous stitched frown staring down at you. His cock brutally hit the back of your throat, your moans vibrating his shaft further. Masky’s hands tightened around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as he devoured your cunt. “Awe does that feel good? Having Masky eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Hoodie continued, relishing in the sight of your thighs squeezing his partners head. The warmth spreading across Toby’s chest only made him more feral, his hips involuntarily grinding against the bedding as his teeth grazed your nipple. “This is what you wanted right? Your ultimate fantasy right?” Hoodie continued. His fingers were tangled in your hair, yanking ever so often. He enjoyed watching your body react to his every word, your skin littered with goosebumps.

“You’re trembling already. How are you gonna handle all three of us at once if you can’t handle a little foreplay?” Hoodie continued. He watched you attempt to keep up with his thrust, your mind spinning. Toby released your nipple, attaching his lips to your breast. “Awe you poor thing, the kids gonna litter you in as many marks as possible. Hope you like hickies,” Hoodie continued. You could feel your core tightening, Masky’s tongue relentless as he lapped at your clit. You could feel his tongue poke at your entrance, one of your hands flying down to his hair. Your hips grinded against his face, your breath shuddering as Hoodie pulled out of your mouth. Sinful moans instantly spewed from your lips, bouncing off of the motel room walls. “Sounds like someone’s close to cumming, how cute,” Hoodie grinned. He pulled your hair to continue looking up at him, preventing you from seeing Masky’s exposed face. “Go on sweetheart, cum on his face,” He cooed.

Toby released a patch of your skin with a pop, a shock of electric euphoria crashing down over you. Your back arched off of the bed as you came on Masky’s tongue, his hooded eyes watching your face as you shamelessly came. His gloved hands were harsh, keeping your thighs pried open. He continued to devour you until he was sure you were done, his chin coated in your juices as he emerged from your thighs. “I want her cunt,” Masky said instantly, claiming your pussy for his own. Hoodie grunted as he helped rearrange you, Masky pulling down his mask as he laid underneath you. On all fours you hovered above him, feeling Hoodies gloved hands pull apart your cheeks from behind. “Fine by me, kid you get her mouth,” Hoodie ordered. Toby was slowly jerking off cock, kneeling beside your mouth. “W-Why can’t I get her ass?” He bickered.

You could feel Masky’s hands slide down your hips, causing you to bite your bottom lip to refrain from whimpering. “Because you’re going to nut in five seconds and I plan on fucking her until she can’t walk,” Hoodie argued. You could feel Masky align himself with your entrance, before pushing himself inside. Your velvet walls clung to him instantly, your loud moan interrupting the arguing at hand. You grabbed onto his mustard jacket, feeling him bottom out inside of you. “Fuck princess, you feel so fuckin, warm,” Masky sputtered. He could feel his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, the ecstasy hitting him far harder than he could’ve imagined. It was like he could hear all of you, your breathing, your heart beat, even the little whimpers that were clawing their way out of your throat.

For a brief moment he swore he could’ve met your gaze, Toby’s thin fingers guiding your face to his cock. You teasingly sucked the tip, feeling Hoodie shove himself inside of you. “We may need to take her home, shit, she didn’t even need any, fuck, prep,” Hoodie groaned, bottoming out as well. Your head was spinning, the taste of Toby’s salty precum dancing on your tastebuds. Your body was electrified with warmth and lust, your vision growing spotty as you felt Masky and Hoodie begin to move. You grabbed handfuls of Masky’s jacket, unable to stop your sinful moans. Even as Toby guided you to suck his cock, your unholy noises were still as loud as ever. Masky grabbed your hips, noting the way tears free flowed down your cheeks. He rammed upwards into you, noticing the way your eyes rolled back into your head.

“That’s it princess, you can take it,” The brunette praised, mesmerized by you. You looked ethereal, falling apart between the three of them like this. Your jaw had gone slack and was growing sore as Toby used your throat as he pleased, satisfied in the gagging he made you produce. Hoodies hips never let up for a moment, his brain on auto pilot as his body rammed into you. Insults swam around his brain, failing to leave his lips as he fucked your unexplored hole. The four of you were too high to play mind games, addicted the feeling you gave one another. You felt caught in the middle, completely cock drunk as three strong pairs of hands kept you upright. “Feels soooo g-g-good, motherfuckin- I can’t,” Toby whined, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t anticipated his orgasm, his body producing one without any warning. His cum flooded your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you swallowed all that you could. Toby watched, mesmerized as you continued sucking him half hard.

He was twitching in euphoria, his hands fallen by his sides as he soaked in the overstimulation. “Knew the kid was gonna cum first,” Hoodie grumbled, his fingers digging so hard into your skin they promised bruises in their morning to come. Masky felt like he was breathing on manual mode, his breath shallow as he looked at you. “Princess, touch yourself. We’ll hold you up. Cum on our cocks so we can fill you up,” Masky offered, his words much more softer than he meant for them to be. Dazed, you used your spare hand to slither down to your clit, drawing sloppy circles around the sensitive bud. Your body began to tremble, Toby’s cock falling out of your mouth as you dropped your head. Your moans were babbles and curses, your mind completely cock drunk as Masky and Hoodie fucked you at the same time.

“Ha, feel that Masky? She’s about to cum already. Filthy girl,” Hoodie snickered, pretending that he wasn’t on the edge as well. Masky’s smooth voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing you could audibly hear. “Come on princess, cum for us. Cum for me. Be good,” He encouraged, fucking upwards into your g spot. Your vision became hazy as you came, sweat dripping down your forehead and body trembling in their grasp. Your knuckles were white from grabbing Masky’s jacket so hard, your body withering in euphoria. The boys didn’t take long after that, cumming inside of your ass and cunt as they pleased. The four of you were entangled messes, the ecstasy overriding any sense of pride or moral obligation.

It was Toby who spoke first, cheeks flushed pink.

“So, we’re bringing her home with us right?”