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koqabear · 11 months ago

Text

chulo

♫: Chulo Pt. 2, Bad Gyal

"Your hermit of a roommate finally decides that he’s had enough of your attitude. And of your constant assumptions that he’s never felt the touch of a woman. "

taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: pwp, roommates au, smut, enemies to lovers if you squint, ft. wingman jjun

Word count 11.4K

warnings: barely edited and barely any plot mwah, use of drugs (weed) and alcohol; mentions of the mc getting drunk (not during any of the smut), jealousy

smut warnings: sub!mc, mean dom!tyun, strength kink !! bratty mc and brat tamer tyun, high sex, shotgunning, degradation, praise, pain kink, spanking, hair pulling, thigh riding, begging, pet names/name calling (slut, baby, princess, pretty/good girl, etc.) manhandling, brief choking, mentions of safeword (it’s not used though), brief marking, biting, oral, (f. rec), face sitting, tyun is a literal pussy fiend. fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, tyun is thick and big yawnnn what else is new, dumbification maybe, slight humiliation (kink? maybe.),breast play, scratching, possessiveness, creampie (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

(lmk if i should add anything lmao)

Notes: just leaving this here to remind u guys that i am the least sane solomon on this app. i actually only wrote this for myself but congrats u all get to read it too. say thank youuu!

Taehyun was, for lack of a better word, a total goody-two-shoes; always holed up in his room studying, the only times he ever left home being for work, school, or to go run an errand. He was also your beloved roommate.

It was meant to be, really; jumping blindly at the offer your mutual friend Yeonjun offhandedly mentioned, commenting about how his friend was struggling to find someone in order to split rent— “his old roommate moved out, now he’s going broke trying to afford the place on his own.”

And you, in all your bright-eyed and enthusiastic glory, didn’t hesitate to ask for details; one long interrogation later, and you found yourself getting interviewed by the man himself— how you were able to snatch the title of Taehyun’s new roommate is something you’re still unsure of.

Because as far as you’re aware, the two of you couldn’t be any more different.

“You’re going out again?” you hear Taehyun call out from the kitchen, the said man able to hear you approaching from the hallway from the jingling of your jewelry— something he was always on your ass for, never failing to comment how you’re like a walking tambourine with that stupid quirk to his lips— the sound of his voice teeming with judgment only brought about a roll of your eyes, trudging over to the kitchen to send him a harsh glare; you made a point of placing your bangle clad wrists on your hips, the action bringing about another soft jingling.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising a brow expectantly; Taehyun seems unfazed by your sudden confrontation, not a single muscle twitching at your accusatory tone— his back remains turned to you, leaning on the kitchen counter leisurely while he scrolls on his phone— at the sound of your persistent hmm? He peeks over his shoulder to meet eyes with you.

“You were out till three yesterday,” he says nonchalantly, only turning so he can properly look at you whilst keeping an eye on the stove, “Is partying all you do?”

You can tell he’s trying to provoke you— but you know better than to fall for it and get angry, already victim to his constant mocking and teasing to realize that he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you— so you simply roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest before you’re turning on your heel and beelining back to the door.

“You know damn well…” you mutter to yourself, sneering at the chuckles you’re able to pick up on, “It’s none of your business anyway!”

“Yeah, it kinda is!” Taehyun retorts, but you’re too busy slipping on your shoes and your jacket to voice out a rebuttal— swinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re able to catch his final comment right as you’re slipping out the door; “I’m not making the hangover soup again!”

“Fuck you and your soup!”

You shut the door behind you before Taehyun can get a word out.

☆☆☆

“How are you two still living together?”

The natural light that streams in through the windows and the sound of Yeonjun’s raspy voice is enough to have you wincing with pain and ducking your head down; hot steam from your bowl soothes your skin and puffy eyes, your body still sore from the night before as you sink into the chair with a tired sigh.

“Because as insufferable as she is, she still pays her share of the rent,” Taehyun mutters bitterly, setting down a second bowl of soup before your mutual friend, pulling out the chair across from your as he goes to sit with crossed arms, “aren’t you gonna eat? You were begging me for this earlier.” Your lips automatically go to form a scowl, but your hand still goes to reach for your spoon— because as much as you hated feeding into Taehyun’s big fat ego, you couldn’t deny that he makes some killer hangover soup; you could already feel the tension easing from your muscles from the first bite—- your eyes remained glued to the table, knowing better than to glance back up and catch the stupid triumphant look Taehyun never bothers to hide.

“Fucking insufferable,” you mumble between bites, glancing at the way Yeonjun seems to catch onto your words, shoulder shaking with the soft laugh he huffs out.

“Me?” Taehyun gawks, leaning forward as though to make sure he was hearing things right; neither of you respond, which only serves to make him more irked.

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the one that has to deal with you— always coming back late and drunk as hell—” Taehyun’s pointed glare jumps over to Yeonjun, who simply flinches and averts his gaze down to the table, “you said you’d be watching over her last night.”

“I’m not a baby,” you butt in, ignoring Taehyun’s look of disbelief, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And yet you’re always asking me to take care of you.”

You shrug dismissively, the last bit of your energy spent as you find yourself no longer interested in arguing; staring down at your bowl, you found that you were so busy trying to ignore Taehyun’s piercing glare that you ended up scarfing down your soup in a haste— standing abruptly, you go to place your dishes in the dishwasher before you’re spinning around and sending Taehyun a bright, innocent smile.

“It’s not my fault you always jump to come help me out,” you coo, wincing at the soreness of your body and the sharp ache in your head as you make your way over to him, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks together, leaning in close to him even as he begins to fuss and swat at your hands angrily, “and you’re just soooo caring and sweet with me— it’s in your nature, don’t lie.”

“It gets tiring listening to you complain around the house,” Taehyun sneers grabbing your wrists firmly and pulling your hands off his face swiftly— the sudden strength catches you off guard, hands falling dumbly at your sides as you can only stare at Taehyun as he continues, cold and aloof as always, “It’s the only way I can get you to shut up.”

“Sureee… sure,” you mumble offhandedly, clearly unimpressed by his excuse as you saunter off to the living room instead, making yourself comfortable on the couch before you’re yelling back to the kitchen one last time.

“Jjunie,” you call, waiting for the muffled hmm? of the said man before you continue, “are we still down for the part next Saturday? Jake’s place?”

“Oh… uhhhm,” he pauses, and you’re sure Taehyun is probably sending him a deadly glare right now, “sure, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” you grin, pulling out your phone to look up Jake’s instagram page, scrolling through his feed to get a refresher of what he looks like, the satisfaction of what you see seeping into your voice as you speak, “Partying’s all I do.”

You swear you hear a scoff; it only serves to make you anticipate the weekend a little more.

☆☆☆

“You’re leaving like that?”

Your body is jolting in surprise, the mascara wand in your hand clattering on your desk as you curse in shock— Taehyun stands in your now opened doorway, unable to sense his presence due to the focus you were putting in to make sure your makeup came out perfect— meeting his gaze through the mirror, you frown, nose scrunching in distaste at the way he clearly judges you; your hand reaches for your phone, turning down the music you were playing in order to actually hear him properly.

“Don’t you know how to knock?”

“I tried. I’ve been trying. For the past three minutes,” Taehyun says, ignoring your complaints as he makes his way into your room, coming up behind you as he scans your setup— he ignores the way you continue to glare at him harshly, eyes running slowly over the mess you’ve made before he’s leaning down and reaching across the vanity; you’re pressed back against the chair and left to watch as his arm obscures your vision, hoping he didn’t pick up on the way your eyes glued onto his muscles that bulged slightly as he reached for the charger plugged into the far outlet.

“You never gave this back,” Taehyun sighs, and before you can refute that you were just about to, he gives you a pointed look with that raised brow of his. “It’s been three days.”

“My bad,” is all you can bring yourself to say, picking up your mascara wand again as you go back to applying your makeup carefully— but it’s hard to concentrate, especially with the way Taehyun continues to linger behind you, able to feel his warmth due to how close he is— and you glance over your shoulder, scanning him up and down before you’re turning back to your vanity, “is there something else I can help you with?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What, the whole why are you dressed like that thing? Are you seriously expecting an answer to that?” you ask, putting your mascara away as you move to your lips instead, “It’s nothing new, I don’t know why you’re so fixated on that right now.”

“Nothing new?” Taehyun repeats, and through the reflection of the mirror, you’re able to catch the way he frowns in disbelief and scans you once more. “You never dress like this for house parties.”

“Hmm,” you hum softly, doing your final touch ups before you’re standing abruptly, spinning around to face Taehyun with a pout, “it’s the skirt right? It’s throwing the whole thing off.”

Taehyun watches as you push past him and head straight to your closet; glancing over your shoulder and nodding at him to sit on your bed, turning back around before you can catch the way he hesitantly follows your command— and you’re turning back around with three more garments in your hand, each option smaller than the one before— the sight has his brows jumping briefly.

“I was thinking this one at first— I think the darker denim is cuter though, like this one,” you press each skirt to your waist, peeking at yourself in your body length mirror before you switch to the next option; again, you’re pouting and shaking your head, throwing the first two options aside before you’re turning around to show Taehyun the last option proudly.

“But actually, I think this one is the one— look at the pockets, they’re sooo cute,” you smile, flipping the garment over to show him— and indeed, they’re blinged out and sparkly, just like the rest of you; you hold it against your waist, checking yourself out in the mirror with satisfaction.

“That— that barely covers you.”

“So?” you effortlessly reply, tilting your head and meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror; dramatically, you gasp, mouth falling open and brows rising as you proceed to blatantly mock him, “Oh, is this too scandalous for you? Sorry, I forget you’re a bit more… reserved. It’s okay, you don’t have to stay in here if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You’re biting your tongue as you listen to Taehyun sputter behind you in confusion; through the corner of your eye, you’re able to watch as his brows knit together, leaning forward and tilting his head as he struggles to find a response.

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

“Oh,” you trail off, tsking awkwardly and amping up your dramatics as you pause— Looking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s prying gaze, returning it with a faux apologetic smile. “Y’knoww… Yeonjun told me. About you.”

If anything, that only serves to confuse Taehyun even more— and worry him, if the way he stares off into space, visibly deep in thought, serves as any indicator.

“What did he tell you,” Taehyun mutters, the question more directed to himself as he racks his mind for possible answers— but you beat him to it, continuing your efforts to keep a poker face as you shrug innocently.

“Just… about you. Relationships, experience…” and you’re turning your back to him, muttering the last part and taking in the way Taehyun leans forward even more to catch what slips out your mouth, “or, lack thereof.”

“Excuse me?”

“We were talking about our own stuff and you kinda just came up in the conversation randomly!” you say defensively, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s okay to shy away from… this lifestyle, or whatever you like to call it— there’s nothing wrong with being your little introverted self, tyunnie.”

You’re provoking him— you’re setting up quite the bait, and it’s working, because Taehyun can only find himself able to gawk at you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly in wonder of it all— your cute nickname flies over his head in favor of processing the fact that you basically just called him a homebody. A virgin.

Just when Taehyun thinks he’s found the words to respond to such an outlandish accusation, your phone dings with a notification— you’re all but bouncing over to it excitedly, hovering over the device and letting out a soft ah! In excitement— sending Taehyun a pleading smile, he’s already able to guess what you’ll ask of him.

“Junie’s here! Can you please please please go answer the door for me? I need to change.” you watch Taehyun hesitate for a moment; he then nods reluctantly, getting up slowly before he trudges out of your room, your words still bouncing around the walls of his mind as you shut the door and yell out a cute thank you! As you do.

Taehyun opens the front door to find an equally flashy Yeonjun on the other side— the sight of his over the top outfit is enough to catch Taehyun off guard and have all his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth without restraint.

“Did you tell her I was a virgin?”

Yeonjun’s brows jump up in disbelief— he’s halting mid step through the doorway, sending Taehyun a confused look before he steps inside and closes the door behind him— looking at his friend for further explanation, Yeonjun is only met with Taehyun crossing his arms with an expectant look.

“Dude. What the hell are you on about.”

“Why is ___ acting like I’m a total prude— saying you told her I was inexperienced,” Taehyun isn’t exactly sure why tonight’s comment was what set him off— you’ve been like this for as long as he could remember, always portraying Taehyun as someone pure, innocent, and stuck-up— he always thought you were joking, but as it turns out, that might not be the case.

“Oh— she’s probably not being serious, don’t worry,” Yeonjun shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, craning his neck to try and get a glance down the hallway, seeing if you’re finally ready— you’re nowhere to be seen, and Yeonjun sighs impatiently.

“Okay, but what did you say to her?” Taehyun presses on, eyes narrowing at the sight of Yeonjun pressing his lips together hesitantly, “Yeonjun.”

“I just said that it’s… rare to ever see you get interested in anyone,” Yeonjun pouts, but Taehyun can tell that’s not the full truth— Yeonjun caves in after a moment, gulping softly and lowering his voice to nothing but a murmur, “and that she should stop flirting with you, cause you wouldn’t even know how to handle all that.”

“You what?!”

“Yeonjunnie, what do you think?” your voice is sweet and lilted as you finally come out of your room, interrupting Taehyun’s heated outburst with your jingling jewelry— the two men are turning over to you, Taehyun too busy taking in your appearance to notice Yeonjun sighing in relief at your well-timed interruption.

“So?” you ask, doing a cute spin that has Taehyun’s eyes widening and his hands clenching— yeah, that skirt was practically a belt, your pretty skin lotioned up and shining under the lights, the spin only allowing him to get a perfect whiff of your addicting scent, “Y’think I can get Jake’s attention with this?”

The name has Taehyun frowning before he can even process it— behind him, Yeonjun whistles at your dolled-up self, doing a once over as he proceeds to hype you up.

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna have to fend you off from everyone in that place,” he says, reaching out for your hand and grinning at the way you giggle and take it, your fingers interlacing naturally, “he’s gonna be all over you.”

“Jake? You can’t actually be attracted to that douchebag,” Taehyun frowns, watching the way your expression immediately drops at his comment.

“I am, actually. It’s nothing serious, just a hook up at most,” you roll your eyes, voice turning undeniably bitter as you bend down to slip on your shoes, the sight of your panties peeking out from the skirt, tucked neatly between your thighs not lost on Taehyun, “Plus, I heard he really knows how to treat a woman.”

Taehyun’s gaze snaps up to meet Yeonjun’s; his glare is lethal enough to kill, and the recipient can only shrug sheepishly in return.

“Sleep well Taehyun,” you remark, clearly poking fun at the fact that Taehyun usually sleeps much earlier than you, never failing to call him a grandpa for it, (which is ridiculous, considering that you barely sleep.) “You don’t have to worry about me— probably won’t be home tonight.”

You’re closing the door and dragging Yeonjun with you before Taehyun can respond, probably off to pregame outside while you wait for your uber; he’s left staring at the spot you just stood at, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger— a minute goes by, and something decidedly shifts within Taehyun.

He’s gotta do something about this image you have of him. He should probably fix that attitude of yours too, while he’s at it.

☆☆☆

“Where the hell is he?” it’s something you seem to have asked for the umpteenth time tonight, leaning against the wall and pouting at your friend while you stand in line for the bathroom— you’ve been at the party for a solid hour now, and you still have yet to see Jake around. And to think, he was the one who invited you to his place in the first place. How rude.

“I told you not to give him a chance!” Yeonjun yells, leaning in closer so you can actually hear him through the booming music and the crowds of people singing along to whatever’s blasting from the living room, “this party fucking sucks, too.”

You can only exaggerate your pout further with a petulant humph. Your body slouches and you can already feel your heart getting heavy with disappointment, unable to refute the way your best friend proceeds to mutter something about Jake probably being too busy sucking off another girl’s face in a random room of the house.

“You never gave in to his advances— you said he was a man-whore,” Yeonjun continues to recall, wincing at the sight of two random girls rushing past him and to the front of the line, carrying their clearly shit-faced friend and screaming about how she’s going to throw up all over— the two of you cringe, exchanging a glance and mutually agreeing that you two can hold it a little more; you slowly trudge your way back to where everyone else is. “What changed? Why’d you give in?”

You scoff, lips upturned with distaste as you send your friend a glare— the wound still as fresh as ever, voice dripping with venom as you lean close to Yeonjun’s ear so he can actually hear you.

“Junnie, you know why!” you whine, smacking his shoulder and ignoring the way he childishly yelps, “I’ve officially decided to move on— I can’t stand flirting with a brick wall anymore, I need to… need to…”

You’re trailing off, gaze wandering off to a foreign point, Yeonjun’s brows furrowing before he begins to follow your line of sight— and just like you, Yeonjun remains speechless, the unexpected sight leaving your jaws gaping.

“This can’t be real.”

But it is. The way Taehyun is currently leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand and coy smile on his face as he talks to some random girl, is very real. You can recognize that man anywhere— even in this crowded room of dancing and jumping bodies, your eyes still remain glued to him.

But, the more you look at him, the more you realize something— he looks… different. It’s subtle, but it’s still there; the mischievous glint in his eyes, his relaxed posture and the hair that falls into his eyes, he has a confident, sly air to him you’ve never seen before— the girl leans up on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear, a hand on his shoulder to get stabilized, and the two laugh; your mind is too preoccupied with the way her hand lingers, the way Taehyun tilts his head in amusement, to realize the frown that has pulled your face together.

Taehyun brings the can of beer in his hand to his lips— he turns his head, and his eyes find yours effortlessly.

“He actually came,” Yeonjun awes beside you, and that’s enough to have your head whipping toward him, trying to ignore the way your face burns at the sudden eye contact, still able to feel his eyes linger on you for a moment after.

“What are you talking about? Did you give him the address?” you say, your voice whiny as you speak, surprised to find that you’re not exactly sure how to feel at his sudden appearance— torn between the sudden interest he piqued within you and the disappointment that festeres in your stomach, knowing that now that Taehyun is here, you won’t think twice to give anyone else any attention.

“Hmm? No, he was invited,” Yeonjun says, glancing back to where Taehyun is, looking back to find your confused expression, “him and Jake go way back.”

You’re kidding.

“Nope. Those two were fucking menaces,” Yeonjun laughs— it seems as though the words must’ve slipped out of your mouth, the shock painted on your face more amusing to your friend than anything, “they used to host the craziest parties— now that I think about it though, that was probably all Taehyun’s work.”

“Wait… don’t tell me that…” you glance over to where Taehyun remains, then glance back at Yeonjun, reading his expression carefully and gasping, “was Jake Taehyun’s old roommate?”

Yeonjun nods, as though the news wasn’t earth-shattering to you.

“After a while, I guess Taehyun just didn’t feel like keeping up with the fast life… I don’t blame him though.” Yeonjun shrugs, his eyes beginning to drift behind you, drawing you to turn around at the sound of the crowd on the dance floor cheering and yelling obnoxiously— and sure enough, Jake can be seen in the middle of a circle, flashlights of phone cameras recording lighting him up clear as day— you wince at the sight of a random girl dancing up on him, the sight leaving you to shudder and wonder why you were even gonna give him the time of day.

Ah, right.

“I can’t believe I was about to rebound on him with an old friend,” you breathe out, bristling at the sound of Yeonjun’s laughter, whipping your head around to send him a harsh glare, “and you were going to let me!”

Yeonjun raises his hands up defensively.

“Hey, I was just being a good friend,” he says, but with the way he smiles mischievously, you don’t buy it a bit. “I support women’s wrongs, or whatever.”

“You prick,” you mutter miserably, gaze inevitably wandering back to where Taehyun remains; frowning at them now being visibly closer, Taehyun’s hand resting leisurely on the girl’s waist as they talk.

And again, his eyes flicker back to meet yours.

“You know, he’s only here for you,” Yeonjun murmurs in your ear, watching your interactions like a spectacle, “he doesn’t care about that girl— probably just trying to get you jealous.”

“Stop lying,” you say, but your voice is weak and your brain is susceptible to his words; you tell him to shut up, but the way you perk up with interest is saying otherwise.

“If I’m lying, then why is he giving you fuck me eyes?”

As if on queue, Taehyun glances back again— his gaze is dark and inviting, scanning you slowly before he turns back to the unknown girl— and his eyes soften; they’re less intense, aloof, clearly uninterested. The final piece of your resolve crumbles to pieces.

“I think I’m about to do something stupid,” you say sheepishly, eyes still glued on the man across the room; beside you, Yeonjun chuckles.

“Do it,” he says, giving your back an encouraging push, sending you stumbling forward, “I support it.”

You don’t bother looking back at your friend for one last word of reassurance— your feet have begun to take you before you could even stop and think.

You’re pushing through bodies; it’s crowded and hot and sweaty, cringing and jumping at the feeling of hands brushing against your bare skin— whether it be intentional or not, you try not to dwell on it, honed in on your goal instead.

It takes a moment for you to finally find yourself on the other side of the crowd— but you’ve lost Taehyun, eyes darting back to where he was just a second ago, frowning and scanning the area for the familiar man— he’s nowhere to be found.

You’ve begun to wander around— exploring the layout carefully, eventually abandoning the living room and making your way into the kitchen instead— and like before, you’re unable to find Taehyun, growing increasingly frustrated the longer it takes to find him; it isn’t until you’re making your way to the back porch that you finally spot a familiar, broad frame leaning against the railing.

“Taehyun,” you call out, the said man not flinching at the sound of his name; his back remains turned to you, but he listens to the sound of your nearing footsteps and your jingling jewelry, the scent of your perfume following soon after; you’re standing behind him, hands undoubtedly on your hips and a pout on your face as you speak. “What are you doing here?”

He huffs out a soft chuckle— his relaxed, slouched posture only serves to annoy you, going to stand next to him so you can get a good look at his face— you try to hide the shock that’s blooming on your face, but then again, you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions.

Taehyun cracks a small, lopsided smile; your eyes are wide and you seem like a deer caught in headlights, watching with fascination as Taehyun continues his attempts to light up the joint caught in his lips— your mouth is falling open to say something, but you’re closing it immediately after; this proceeds to repeat for a few seconds more, only able to find your words once you’ve watched Taehyun take a relaxed, languid hit.

“You… you smoke?” you ask softly, unsure of what else to say as you stand staring at Taehyun dumbly— he raises a brow in amusement, pulling the joint away from his lips and turning to blow the smoke out into the night— it’s a slow, deep sigh, and you’re left in awe as you watch the smoke fall from his parted lips and disappear into the air; his eyes fall back on you, and you gulp.

“Yeah?” he says casually, turning so that he’s leaning his side against the railing, tilting his head and drinking up your every reaction eagerly. “What about it?”

Now that you’re before him, you’re finally able to get a proper look at Taehyun— a good look, unable to stop your eyes from wandering; he’s wearing that usual baggy tee and cargo pants combo that he’s so fond of, but even so, everything just feels so different; his undercut is styled cleanly, his nimble fingers glint with the aid of silver rings, a chain hanging from his neck to match— his tan skin glows under the single light placed on the porch and fuck, has he always smelled this good?

“Nothing, it’s just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip and thinking carefully over what to say; Taehyun quirks up a brow curiously, bringing his hand back up to his lips, taking another slow drag from the joint, watching the end light up before he pulls away— and you huff, hands gesturing hopelessly as you find yourself unable to properly articulate your thoughts, not when he’s staring at you so intensely, “Where did all… this, come from?”

Taehyun doesn’t answer; he simply stares at you with amused eyes. So, you continue.

“You’re always judging me for going to parties, now you’re here? And—” you stammer, pointing at the joint between his fingers in confusion, “I’ve always asked if you wanted to smoke together, and you always said no.”

Gently, your voice trails off— and suddenly, any confidence you had when you initially approached Taehyun is wilting, your gaze averting as you begin to recount his behavior, his words, everything.

“Do you hate me or something?”

Your words are accusatory and petulant; the question is meant to be lighthearted, but Taehyun can tell there is some genuineness to it.

It’s silent; you’re tense. Your gaze remains glued to some distant irrelevant point, finding yourself too nervous to look up at Taehyun’s reaction to your sudden outburst— but nothing happens. Seconds feel like hours, and after what feels like eternity, a hand is gently reaching to tilt your chin up; your gaze meets Taehyun’s, and he smiles— his other hand slowly comes up your face, the joint centimeters away from your lips.

“Wanna hit?”

His evasion to your question is not lost on you. Bitterly, you chuckle, reaching up to take the joint from him— but he’s pulling it away from you before you can grab it, tutting softly and placing it back at your lips; you reach for it again, but this time, Taehyun grabs your wrist to stop you. He taps the joint against your lips and raises his brows expectantly— what he’s asking of you finally clicks in your mind; your lips part, and he holds the joint for you as you inhale.

Taehyun watches you with dark, intent eyes— as though analyzing every move you make, from the way you lean your head forward to the way your eyes flicker up nervously to look up at him— your face is oddly innocent and shy, feeling a lot smaller under the man’s gaze as you finally pull away; you’re exhaling slowly, your mouth slightly bitter from the taste as your swallow nervously.

“So? Are you just gonna ignore all my questions?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling a lot weaker as you lean on the railing, crossing your arms and watching Taehyun bring the joint back to his lips— the edges of his mouth quirk up at the sticky feeling of your lip gloss that lingers on it.

“Well… first of all… I’ve been like this, you just met me during the time I decided to back off and change my ways,” Taehyun jokes, the joint still caught between his lips as he speaks, hanging precariously, “and second of all, I definitely don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” you ask hopefully, doe eyes lighting up and your hand subconsciously reaching out to ask for the joint; he chuckles and hands it to you, shaking his head and watching you take a long hit with a raised brow.

“No. You’re just annoying,” he mutters, watching the way you bristle with annoyance, “what? It’s true. You drive me crazy, always forcing me to take care of your reckless ass.”

“Seriously? I literally don’t do anything to you— you’re the one who always decides to get involved,” you sneer, your snarky attitude finally back as you glare at an unfazed Taehyun; your eyes run over his appearance once more, unable to control your childish mouth as you continue, “even now— you come here out of nowhere and suddenly you’re all badass.”

“Are you trying to prove me wrong? You gonna go find some girl to bring back to the apartment?” you pout at him, taking one last hit from the joint and smiling wickedly, “I wouldn’t mind if you did, there won’t be anyone else home anyway— I have the same plans as you tonight, remember?”

Your back is suddenly pressed against the railing; Taehyun is close, he’s pressing against you, caging you in and looking down at you with a gaze that makes you feel small— your skin warms and your eyes widen, unsure of what else to do but stand there and take the way he smiles meanly at you.

“Yeah? Where is Jake, anyway?” he asks, taking the joint from your hands and placing it between his own lips, hand steadying himself against the railing as the other suddenly lands on your bare thigh, just below your ass; you jolt at the feeling, his eyes flickering down at your outfit, at the tiny pieces that barely leave any room to the imagination; his skin is warm but his rings are cool against you, fingertips barely digging into the flesh, “or wait— is it not your turn yet?”

Your body flushes with an unexpected heat; his voice is downright degrading, his eyes filled with pity, telling you things that his mouth doesn’t have to— look at you, all dressed up for a man who hasn’t even looked your way tonight.

He looks at you as though you were nothing short of pathetic; it makes your knees feel weak and your stomach flip with an unexpected need.

“Jake isn’t worth my time,” you confess, watching as Taehyun raises his brows as though to say oh really? “I can easily find someone better than him.”

“You could,” he muses, voice mocking and coy, taking another small hit before he speaks, “but who?”

“I— I’m sure there are plenty of other guys here right now,” you breath out, heart thundering in your chest; Taehyun’s face is close, so close, your bodies slowly beginning to get firmly pressed together— your brain is starting to feel foggy, your limbs suddenly much heavier and tingly; your eyes feel heavy and you’re beginning to list off names absentmindedly, all of men who you spotted in the party, all with a reputation as equally notorious as Jake’s.

“Heesung’s in there… and Sunghoon… and…” Taehyun is giving a big nod to every name you list; he’s patronizing you, staring at you with deceivingly big puppy eyes as he hums a soft mmhmm, and who else? His eyes never leaving yours as you both try to pretend that you don’t notice his lips inching closer to yours, the way every exhale of smoke from him goes directly into your parted lips, your voice breathy and weak as you hold back a whimper that threatens to slip through, “And… fuck, and Beomgyu’s in there too… he wanted to come to the party together, y’know. Said we should go to his place after.”

“Hmm, you’ve got quite a few options lined up,” Taehyun hums, his voice sweet and light to your ears, a shuddered sigh leaving you as his hand squeezes your skin teasingly, caressing it softly and wandering up and down, up and down; he tilts his head, low lidded eyes glued to your lips as he murmurs the last part so softly you almost missed it, “but would any of them be able to fuck you right?”

Your mind reels; your chest is heaving with shallow breaths, the two of you stuck in a state of limbo as you feel yourself get lost in the feeling of him, unaware of the way your eyes have begun to gloss over, your hand reaching out to steady yourself on his bicep— your fingers wrap around the thick muscle, and his hand slides up your leg, bold and strong as he squeezes your ass— a soft whine slips out.

“Well?” he asks again, unable to hold back a lethargic, fond smile at the way your other hand reaches up for the joint that’s still between his lips, putting it between your own, pretty glossed lips begging to be devoured— after a second, you shake your head softly, turning your head to the side and sighing slowly; with your eyes averted, you finally decide to bite the bullet.

“No,” you say softly, “don’t want any of them anyway.”

“Then who do you want?” he asks oh so softly, leaning in to place a soft kiss at your jaw; goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you shudder at the way he hums softly in question, persisting after seeing you get hesitant to respond— after what feels like forever, you turn to look at him; his low lidded eyes, his plump lips— and your nails dig into his bicep subconsciously.

“You.”

There’s no chance for you to take back your words; Taehyun’s lips are rough and desperate against yours, all teeth and tongue as he groans at the feeling of your sticky gloss transferring onto him, your soft whines only aiding him to press himself more against you, to really cage you in and keep you right where he wants you. He’s biting your lip teasingly, sneaking his tongue in and toying with you, feeling him smile lazily against your mouth, wandering hand continuing to caress your skin, fingertips venturing under the hem of your tight denim skirt.

After a while, it becomes too much— your body feels hot, your hand is gripping onto him tightly, as though he could escape if you let him go— your lungs burn and you’re barely able to keep up with him anymore, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind; you’re whining and crying softly at the way he continues to squeeze your ass teasingly, jolting at the way he suddenly slaps it— your fingers jump up to tangle themselves into his roots, tugging roughly at them in hopes of getting him to part from you; he seems to understand what you want, but he continues to ravish you for a few seconds more before he finally pulls away.

In Taehyun’s eyes, this is the best you’ve looked all night; out of breath and flushed, pressed between the railing and his body, his cock already half-hard as he wills himself to not rut against your soft exposed skin like an animal— his hand leaves the railing to grab onto your waist, the other reaching for the joint that is still in your weak hold— he inspects the half-smoked, almost extinguished item before he looks back at you; a small, mischievous grin spreads on his lips, and he slips a thigh between your legs.

“Taehyun…!” you gasp, bouncing up as Taehyun presses the firm muscle against your poor dripping pussy; your panties stick to your cunt and quickly create a wet patch on Taehyun’s jeans, and he can already feel the warmth of you through the denim— your thighs close around his own shakily, your free hand grabbing onto his shoulder for support; the glassy, wide eyed look you give him is almost enough to make Taehyun lose it and fuck you then and there.

“Hmm? What’s up,” Taehyun asks apathetically, fishing in his pocket for his lighter, letting go of your waist to relight the joint with a dark, concentrated gaze; his thigh continues to move against you, flexing and bouncing against your cunt, and all you can do is cry softly and plead for him to stop teasing— his lips quirk up into a mean smile, and his eyes flicker back up to your hazy, fucked out face, tucking the lighter back in his pocket and tilting his head curiously at you.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks softly, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a long, slow hit, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Please… please stop teasing,” you whine, and judging by the way Taehyun raises a brow at that, it’s not enough; his thigh has stopped moving, so you resort to grinding pitifully against it, eyes shining with a desperation that intrigues him, “not enough… need more.”

He huffs; his hand comes up to grab your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to open— you follow his command without a second thought, the last thing you see as your eyes flutter shut being Taehyun leaning in, his own mouth an inch away from yours as he exhales the smoke directly into your mouth.

“Oh yeah? Want it?” he murmurs, feeling you nod in his hold, “tell me then. Tell me how you want it.”

“I— I…” words seem to have escaped you; it’s hard to find the confidence to tell him what you want, the world around you a blurry and lethargic mess, your senses heightened to only feel Taehyun, his skin on yours, his rings that dig into your cheek, his warm thigh that you grind against— peeking through your low lidded eyes, you watch him shake his head disappointedly, taking another hit and proceeding to blow out the smoke into your awaiting mouth once more.

“C’mon baby, use your words. I know you can,” he insists patiently, clicking his tongue and scolding you as you proceed to blank out once more; his fingertips dig into your cheeks roughly, blunt nails threatening to leave indents as he forces you to look at him.

“Want it rough? Want it hard?” he spits out, listening to your whiny mmhmm, mmhmm! with narrowed eyes, and he laughs— it’s mean and condescending, just like his next words, “fucking slut, ‘course you do.”

He’s capturing your lips in another harsh kiss before you can protest; the joint in his hand is snuffed out on the fence and tucked away, his hands falling onto your hips as he begins to press you firmly against him, guiding your pace entirely and forcing you to ride his thigh; you whine and you moan against his lips, fingers tugging at his hair as you grind your soaked cunt against his jeans— when Taehyun pulls away, your lips chase his without a second thought, hands tightening your hold against him in fear that he’ll leave.

“You want it?” he asks once more, bouncing his thigh against your messy cunt, grinning at the way you yelp, “Tell me baby, go on, say it; tell me you want it.”

He won’t let you go quite easily this time. Sharp, intense eyes prying the words out of you, brows furrowing together at the weak, quiet attempts that come from you, fingers leaving a bruising grip on you as he silently commands for more.

“Taehyun, c’mon…” you pout, an embarrassed heat rising up your face, not used to seeing this side of him— you didn’t even know it existed, to be fair, “I want it, please, stop being a tease.”

Taehyun has you regretting your words in the blink of an eye; hand pressing the small of your back, forcing you to arch and proceeding to land a harsh smack on your ass that has you gasping, the skin stinging from the feeling of the rough metal of his rings landing on it— but his hand doesn’t fail to caress the place soothingly, a total contrast to the ruthless glare he gives you.

“A tease?” he sneers, landing another, gentler smack, as though the words are enough to get him angry all over again.

“You mean like when you were showing off this cute little skirt to me? Hmmm? Bending down and showing me your panties? Or when you were talking about getting fucked by my friends?” he can feel you tremble against his hold, your mouth opening to retaliate— but you’re not quick enough, Taehyun’s smart mouth running faster than yours, “Or how ‘bout when you force me to watch you run off to parties and bring a man over to your room, just to have me take care of you in the mornings? Is that what you mean by a tease?”

You shake your head, scrambling to come up with a response; Taehyun seems to have gotten quite fed up with you, because his hand is coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a subtle pressure that leaves you light headed and mushy.

“What, can’t talk now? What happened to that mouthy girl I had here earlier?” Taehyun says, his voice mean and dripping with venom, “tell me you want it, or I’ll leave you here— you said you had some other toys to fuck with inside, right? I’m sure they could help give you what you want.”

“No, no, please, I want it, need it,” you cry, attempting to chase any pleasure and grind your cunt against him; you’re quickly stopped by his firm, bruising hand, “Taehyun, Taehyun, please, please fuck me, I want you, please?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters lowly, eyes glued to the way your hips buck and cant, trying desperately to break free from his hold that prevents you from moving, “think you deserve it?”

“Yes,” you immediately sigh, body restless and hot and overwhelmingly needy, feeling as though you’ve gotten tunnel vision for the man before you; your hand slips from his shoulder and down his chest, finding the hardened bulge that has been pressing against your body with ease— his jaw clenches, and his face remains stoic— but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice the way his lips part or his hips press against your palm reassuringly, “yes– give it to me, want it, only wanted you from the start.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, heavy eyes locked onto the way you look up at him so prettily, your hand palming and rubbing at his clothed cock only serving to cloud his thoughts further, “C’mon.”

He’s stealing one last slow, messy kiss from you before he pulls away; fingers intertwined with yours, stepping back and proceeding to tug you along— you stumble at the sudden action, your airy self giggling softly at the way you tumble into Taehyun’s broad back; he sends you a fond smile, squeezing your hand reassuringly before he’s opening the door to the house and leading you back inside.

It feels as though the whole environment of the party has changed; the neon lights, blasting music and humid air is a little more welcomed than it was before, unable to contain the dopey smile that grows on your face as you allow Taehyun to lead you wherever; you trust him.

“Wherever” leads you to a bedroom upstairs— Taehyun is slamming the door shut and grabbing your waist, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall before you can even react; his face is inches from yours as he mutters a safeword for the two of you, waiting for you to nod and repeat it back before his lips are back on yours— but this time, he seems to want to take his time with you; plump, swollen lips beginning to trail along your jaw, wandering until he’s peppering kisses along your neck, teasing mouth nipping and sucking at your jaw until you’re holding onto his shoulders and begging for more.

Slowly, he begins to walk the two of you backwards; lips never leaving yours, hands caressing your skin and toying with the hem of your shirt as he sits down on the bed, making you stand between his legs— pulling away, you put your hands on Taehyun’s firm shoulders, sighing shakily at the way he looks at you; as though he were holding back from devouring you entirely, a fondness that makes you weak in the knees undeniably there in his pupils.

“Fuck, pretty girl, pretty body,” he breathes, leaning forward to pepper kisses wherever he can— pushing your shirt up to expose your chest, burying his head in your tits and placing open mouthed kisses, biting teasingly at the flesh, chuckling at the feeling of you jolting and jutting your chest out, your body much more reactive and sensitive— and he trails down slowly, down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, lingering there for a bit as he kisses and sucks marks into the vast canvas; his hands trail up and down your sides, pulling you in every time you try to squirm away.

“What, you getting shy on me now?” he tuts, nipping at your side and listening to the squeal that escapes you— his hands tighten and he’s forcing you forward, leaning back until he’s laying down and you’re straddling him precariously; your knees dig into the mattress and you’re trying your best to remain stable, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet— you frown in confusion at the feeling of him trying to tug your hips up more, resisting the motion with a tilt of your head; Taehyun pouts.

“Don’t be like that,” he groans, hands shifting from your hips to the back of your thighs, one cupping your ass and the other falling just below— and you yelp, Taehyun’s muscles flexing as he moves you up forcefully, much too strong for you to retaliate; you’re tumbling down, face burning and planting into the mattress as Taehyun shifts below you— your dripping cunt hovering just above his face, skirt riding up and bunching at your hips, any whines of protests falling on deaf ears as he begins to press soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“T–Taehyun, wait, you don’t—” you stutter through moans, fingers gripping onto the sheets below you as you feel him beginning to trail up, your body revealing just how much you don’t mean your words, “you don’t have to— mmh–!”

His hands are coming up to your middle, pulling and signaling for you to sit up; you do, partly from your own efforts but mostly from his, easily moving you as though you were nothing but a doll— and your cunt is hovering over his face, hungry eyes flickering up to meet yours— he sees the hesitation on your face, the way you’re beginning to ramble once more, and he scoffs; the smack that lands on the back of your thigh is enough to get you to stop mid sentence.

“Just shut up and let me taste you,” he says sternly; his fingers dig into your hips and he’s tugging you down, sneering at the way you continue to hesitate, only allowing yourself to hover over him— he bites at your inner thigh in retaliation, the sensitive feeling bringing out a cry from you, hips bucking and thighs squeezing around his head for a second, “C’mon baby, sit on my face— I can take it, you know I can.”

The hesitant hum you let out is enough for him; he rolls his eyes, and with a strength you forgot he possessed, he forces you to plant your cunt directly onto him.

It feels like a switch has flipped within him. Fuck, you think, your lips parted in a silent scream, a hand scrambling to tangle itself in his hair, fuck!

He hasn’t even bothered to move your panties to the side; he’s eating you out through them, tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit like a man starved, groaning and praising you with a muffled voice; his fingers dig into your ass, making sure to keep you planted firmly on his face as he eats you out.

You think you’re losing your fucking mind.

Just when you thought it was too much, that your body felt like it was buzzing with electricity, filled with a euphoria and pleasure that had you mewling and crying desperately, Taehyun’s nimble fingers finally push the ruined cloth that covers your pussy to the side— and oh, oh, your eyes are rolling back and your mouth is stuck open, Taehyun’s hot tongue lapping and fucking into your hole and his nose pressing firmly into your clit— he’s panting and sighing against your cunt, slurping up any arousal that leaks from your poor hole— his head shakes from side to side, humming into your pussy, and the last bit of resolve within you shatters.

“Taehyun— oh my god, Taehyun—!” you cry, hips grinding down into him, thighs closing around his head; you can feel him fucking smiling lazily into your pussy, rough hand slapping your ass and guiding your movements against him, as though to silently reassure you and ask for more. “Please— oh god, oh— fuckfuckfuck, m’close, I’m close, hnng—!”

Your words are nothing but fuel to the man beneath you— his tongue is flattening against your hole, licking up and flicking at your clit before he begins to suck on it; two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning, curling expertly and finding your sweet spot with ease; your body shivers and you wail, muscles growing weak as you fall forward once more— burying your head in your arms as you cry about how close you are, the new position only allowing Taehyun to move your hips firmly against him, rocking you back into him; his fingers pull out of your cunt in favor of shoving his tongue back in instead, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease— his nails dig into your skin as he holds you still, eliciting a dull feeling of pain, and everything falls apart.

Too much, too much! you think— maybe you say it out loud, your mouth open and gasping as you grip onto the bed sheets, feeling as Taehyun continues his same, intense ministrations; letting you ride out your orgasm but not stopping, even after you’ve begun to sniffle and cry about how sensitive you feel— after a while, Taehyun finally gives in, pulling away from your cunt to lick you clean, pressing firm, sloppy kisses against your hole and puffy clit, smiling at the way you twitch with each one.

You feel as though your bones have all melted; you can’t move, face burrowed into the mattress and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath— beneath you, Taehyun moves, slipping out from under you and hovering behind, hungry eyes taking in the sight before him eagerly; ass up and back arched, glistening hole on display as you continue to shudder and breathe shakily— you hear the sound of clothes rustling behind you, followed by the feeling of the bed dipping— Taehyun’s hand rubs at your ass fondly, and you jump at the sudden sensation, eyes screwing shut and a quiet whine leaving you.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyun sighs, biting at his lip and stroking your skin, up your back and to your shoulders, leaning over and kissing gently at the nape of your neck as he whispers, “think you can take more?”

“Yes– yeah, please,” you beg quietly, unable to feel an ounce of shame from how immediate your response is; you can feel his cock rubbing against your ass, the stickiness of his tip that ruts against you subtly— you look over your shoulder with a hazy eyes and a soft, blissful smile, meeting Taehyun’s equally fucked out gaze as you push your hips back, “wanna feel you inside— I’m on the pill.”

The sharp breath of air Taehyun sucks in isn’t lost on you— his cock jumps from the way you grind against him, no longer able to keep up that cold and uninterested facade he’s kept up since the moment you two met up for the first time— he wants you, bad. And to his delight, you seem to feel the same.

“Jesus, you drive me so fucking crazy,” Taehyun breathes, the soft giggle you let out not helping him remain calm; he sits back, a hand grabbing at your waist and the other wrapping around his length— he’s squeezing the base, pumping at it slowly, the gruff sighs and moans you hear behind you enough to have you clenching around nothing— just when you think you’ll have to beg again, you feel his thick tip begin to prod at your entrance.

You think you could cum from the feeling of him stretching you out alone— a broken moan leaves you at the feeling of him entering inside you, so thick and big that you think he might just break you; your head drops back into the mattress and your hips are pulled back against Taehyun’s, soft cries leaving you at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you.

“P-perfect, so… damn perfect,” Taehyun rasps out, head falling back and eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of you clenching around him— you’re so tight and sensitive, walls fluttering around him and sucking him in, tempting him to lose control and pound you straight into the mattress; he has to take a deep breath and concentrate on not cumming then and there, because the way you’re beginning to whine for more like a cockhungry bitch is really getting to him, “shit– stop— ugh– stop squeezing me like that princess, won’t fucking last long if you do.”

You can only whine in protest at that; it’s so hard to remain still, your hazy mind already fucked out beyond belief from your first orgasm— but even so, you still want more, you crave it, you need it; you make sure that Taehyun is aware of it, too, whiny and breathy as you cry and cry for him to fuck you.

“Tyun, come on,” you pout, impatiently moving your hips back, in search of any stimulation you can get, “please, wanna get fucked already, want it hard, don’t tell me that was all talk earlier.”

If there’s one thing you’ve figured out about Taehyun, it’s that he hates when you try to act up on him— because as he tightens his fingers into your plush skin and slowly begins to pull his hips out, you realize quickly that he’s most definitely not all talk.

“Ah—!”

Your body is being driven forward with each thrust— Taehyun is fucking you hard, muttering angry words that you can’t even pick up over the sound of your own moans; his cock is thick and his hips are angled so his head bumps against your sensitive spot with each thrust, harsh pace not allowing you any reprieve as you simply fall limp, unable to move your hips back in tandem with his pace; if anything, Taehyun is doing it for you, rough hands bringing you back against him like it’s nothing.

“Fucking slut— got such a dirty mouth, should make sure you to fuck you good so you can’t talk back to me,” he growls, feeling you clench like a vice around him, even more when he stops thrusting in favor of pulling you back like a doll for him to use, “Oh, you’d like that huh? Like it when I use you like a toy? Stupid pussy’s nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me— yeah, c’mon, move your hips, thaat’s it, just like that.”

His mouth continues to spew filth, a stark contrast to how Taehyun usually is— he’s always been quieter during sex, but the sight of you trembling and struggling to take his cock is enough for his mouth to run faster than his mind— that, and the aid of his high that seems to have gotten rid of any self-control he usually exhibits.

Your movements have become sluggish and weak— you’re getting tired, he can tell, so with one last slap to your ass that has you yelping, he finally decides to take control again.

“God, can’t even fuck me for more than a few minutes? Where’d that cocky girl from before go, hmm?” He asks, voice patronizing as he begins his harsh thrusts— only pulling out halfway before he’s sinking in all the way, hips slapping against your ass creating a lewd sound; your cunt only tightens and gushes around him, hiccupped moans leaving you as he picks up his pace, watching as your arms give out beneath you and your face gets planted into the mattress; he huffs out a laugh, and reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair— yanking your head back, you yelp, left to his mercy as he begins to pound into your ruthlessly.

“Taehyun, wait– slow down…!” you cry, scratching at the bed sheets and feeling tears prick at your eyes— and he does, for a second, waiting for you to say something else, for the safeword you both agreed on— but you don’t, and the laugh he lets out after catching on is enough to have your face burning with humiliation— and his pace picks back up— no, he’s meaner than before, degrading you below his breath and pulling at your hair, pulling you back against him, a hand sneaking down to place sloppy circles at your clit— you’re keening and clenching like a vice around him, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling.

“Mmmh, too… too much,” you manage to say softly, immediately given another harsh tug at your hair in response, your eyes watering at the feeling.

“Too much?” Taehyun repeats, and you can practically hear the pout on his lips from the patronizing tone, “thought you wanted it hard? Don’t tell me it was all talk.”

He’s spitting your exact words back at you, watching with amusement as you try weakly to prove him wrong.

“That’s right. You’ll take it like a good girl should,” he grunts, slowing his pace down and punctuating his words with rough, deep thrusts, “Fucking. Take it. All.”

You’re close, he can feel it, he can hear it— and the thought of watching your pretty face screw up into pleasure and bliss is enough to send Taehyun’s mind reeling, not hesitating to pull out and let go of your body— his lips quirk up with satisfaction at the way you’re immediately falling limp, fucked out face peeking behind in confusion, about to complain about why he stopped when he begins to move you.

It feels dizzying, the way he’s able to manipulate you and force you into any position he likes; you’re sure Taehyun can read it all over your face, because he smiles meanly at you, patting your cheek fondly before he begins to busy himself with your clothes.

“Don’t think I never noticed you staring, pretty,” he grins, tugging your skirt and panties down swiftly, eying the soiled underwear before he throws it off to the side, landing directly on his discarded pile of clothes— and he sends you another sleazy smile that has you bringing your knees up and closing your legs shyly— it’s all futile though, because he’s immediately kneeling before you and spreading your thighs open with his warm, large hands, holding onto the underside of your knees as he scoots closer to you, “always getting so touchy with me, grabbing onto my arms and thighs— dumb little thing, bet you thought you were getting away with it each time, hmm?”

“Shut up,” you whine, resisting the urge to cover your face and hide away— but you really can’t, especially with the way his thick cock ruts against your pussy, tip sliding up and down your slit as he teases you by putting it in, only to pull back out again, “Taehyun…”

“C’mon, grab onto me,” he muses, slipping the tip in once more before he begins to slide in slowly, watching your mouth fall open and your eyes grow glassy, “wanna watch you cum on my cock.”

This new position practically has you seeing stars— Taehyun hovers over you and watches intently, chain hanging over your face as he presses your thighs against your body, fucking you straight into the mattress; you tremble and you gasp, a fire festering in your stomach as you beg for more— “m-more, please, faster, harder, s-shit—!”

Taehyun listens to your every request intently— his stamina is impressive and ruthless, and his cock is reaching and hitting places you never knew were there— your back arches and your hands scramble to grab onto something to stabilize yourself, inevitably falling onto Taehyun’s body in the end; one on his shoulder, the other on his bicep that flexes from the effort of keeping your squirming body still.

“So… fucking… pretty,” Taehyun groans, watching your chest heave and your eyes blink away tears, leaning down to suck and bite at your breast, frowning at the bra that still covers them— throwing a leg over his shoulder, Taehyun pulls your bra up roughly, hips continuing to pound against yours as he latches his mouth onto your pretty nipples— you gasp, nails digging into his skin as you begin to cry to him, good, s-so good, fuck!

“Shit, I’m close,” he says after a moment, pulling off your breasts with a lewd pop! That has your eyes rolling back; he moves up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, murmuring your name sweetly and waiting for you to respond. “I’m close baby, so– so fucking close– where— hah, where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you immediately mewl, hearing him groan unabashedly in response, “Please, pleasepleaseplease, inside, inside—! Fill me, want your cum, wanna be full—!”

“Okay baby, okay,” he says sweetly, kissing at your neck and wandering up to your ear, “gonna fill you up good, just like you want.”

“Oh, are you close too?” he asks, and you nod furiously, watching as he goes back to hover over you, watching every change in your expression intently, “I can feel it, pretty cunt’s squeezing me so good– c’mon, cum for me baby, wanna see it, wanna watch your pretty face, will you let me? Yeah, only for me to see— gonna cum, fuck, make you mine, you’re mine only, okay?”

His words are enough to send you over the edge; you let out a long whine and scratch at his skin, crying out his name desperately as your nails rake down his back, down his arm; he hisses at the feeling, the pain enough to set him off and join you right after; his hips stutter and his face screws up from the pleasure, brows knitting together and teeth gritting together as he lets out soft moans— but his eyes never leave yours, deft fingers circling your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm— your legs tremble under his hold, eyes rolling back and face smoothing out from the pure euphoria you feel.

“Yours… just yours,” you sigh out, feeling his hips finally still, thick cum beginning to leak out from you, falling onto the sheets and ruining them completely; you pant and try to regain composure, but it’s really, really hard— you feel like you’re on cloud nine, words tumbling past your lips before you can second guess them, “y’have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

“Really?” he asks; the panic you feel in your chest is short-lived, because as soon as you see the soft look in Taehyun’s eyes, you melt.

“Yeah…” you say softly, suddenly a lot more shy under his gaze, “this was like. Attempt number one hundred of me trying to get over you. Or make you jealous.”

“Hmm… well, you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m all yours,” he mumbles, swooping in to steal a slow kiss from you; you can’t control the giddy laugh that leaves you at that, lazy hands tangling into his hair to keep him close.

“Good,” you murmur against his lips, “I was running out of guys to use against you.”

His hand squeezes at your hip in warning— you smile coyly.

“Joking, of course.”

Nipping at your lip, Taehyun sends you a half-hearted glare.

“You better be.”

You give him a giddy nod; after tonight, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to compare to him, anyway. Shifting underneath him, you wince at the feeling of your sweaty body rubbing against the sheets— Taehyun is able to read your face before you can get anything out.

“Wanna go home?” he asks softly.

“Please,” you say, giving him a shy smile that has his heart flipping pathetically, “will you carry me?”

He laughs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and sneaking his arms under your figure.

“Always.”

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun ff #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #taehyun fanfic #taehyun fanfiction

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lovingyoulovinme · 1 year ago

Text

✶ charles leclerc x reader ✶

2019

renaultf1team

Liked by danielricciardo and 96,486 others

renaultf1team It’s the super nice and ultra cool @yourinstagram! We 💛 her!

View all 1,884 comments

yourinstagram thank you for having me! 🐥💖

username who even is this?

⤥ username y/n y/l/n she's a model but she's been into f1 for awhile

danielricciardo Sorry for not winning for you like i promised @yourinstagram

⤥ yourinstagram 🤣🤣

username they finally invited a celebrity that knows about the sport

username manifesting she comes to more races her interview talking about how much fun she had was really cute

scuderiaferrari How can we get her in our garage?

⤥ renaultf1team She's ours sorry!

yourinstagram 🤭

username ferrari begging her to come to their garage 😭 need her and charles to meet tho

July 14, 2019

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourinstagram and 463,746 others

charles_leclerc P1 babyyyyyy ! Thank you to the team and to everyone that showed support this weekend.

View all 6,954 comments

scuderiaferrari 🥇❤️

username congrats charles ! !

username he will be wdc one day mark my words

yourinstagram proud!!!! 🐰🤍

⤥ charles_leclerc 😘

username they know each other????

username y/n has always said charles is one of her favorite drivers it wouldn't be surprising if they met when she came to silverstone

username YOU DESERVE IT

pierregasly 😮‍💨

username first season with ferrari and he's been killing it what a legend

username 🔥🔥🔥

September 28, 2019

2020

yourinstagram

Liked by charles_leclerc and 176,836 others

yourinstagram new years party with all my favorite people 🥵🥂❤️

View all 2,747 comments

username happy new years!!!

username the drink on her head 😭 shes so crazy i love her 🤪

username LECLERC?????

⤥ username one of her favorite people....

danielricciardo Thanks for the invite!

⤥ yourinstagram stfu u literally told me you couldn't come

danielricciardo 😣

username i would do insane things to get invite to a party thrown by y/n

username streets (mutual of mine whose friend went to the party) saying y/n and charles kissed at midnight

⤥ username anybody can lie and say they were there 😭 hell i could go on twitter and start a full thread abt it doesn't mean it would be true

charles_leclerc 💃🕺

⤥ yourinstagram moves so good they swept me off my feet

username 👀👀👀

January 2, 2020

leclercupdates

7,963 likes

leclercupdates clip of charles' from his twitch stream today 🫣

View all 45 comments

username i cant believe this is how we get confirmation they're dating 😭

username hes so dumb i love him

username he def didnt mean to say it bc the way his face turned into pure horror when he realized 😭

yourinstagram idiot

⤥ username Y/N HI

username his lil giggles i am so happy for them

April 6, 2020

yourinstagram

Liked by landonorris and 397,892 others

yourinstagram note to self: stop forgetting your keys (and tape your boyfriend's mouth shut)

View all 4,632 comments

username instagram and twitch official 🤭

username THE SECOND PIC AHHHHH

username not the shade

landonorris 😂

⤥ yourinstagram you think this is funny?

landonorris 🤐

username parents 🫶

charles_leclerc S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi, je ne voulais pas 🥺 (Please, forgive me, I didn't mean to.)

⤥ yourinstagram the french nor the emoji will work this time bye

username their doggies 🥹

scuderiaferrari Does this mean you'll be in our garage when the time is right?

⤥ username they are never giving up

username this is such pr

username her being friends with danny lando and pierre is my favorite thing ever

April 8, 2020

2021

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly and 784,478 others

charles_leclerc Happy days before the start of the season

View all 4,698 comments

yourinstagram put a shirt on

username best couple in the world

lilymhe Who is the beautiful girl in the third slide?

⤥ charles_leclerc she's taken

yourinstagram that could change

username everyone being in love with y/n is so cute

username please never break up

pierregasly No photo of me?

⤥ username pierre third-wheeling them 24/7 😭

username her smile!!! 👼👼👼

February 6, 2021

deuxmoi via instagram

September 20, 2021

2022

yourinstagram

Liked by danielricciardo and 248,736 others

yourinstagram this must be the place 💒

View all 3,831 comments

username THE ENGAGEMENT RUMORS LOOKING REAL TRUE RN

danielricciardo 🤭

username wedding venue???? 🥹

charles_leclerc Je veux passer ma vie avec toi ❤️ (I want to spend my life with you)

⤥ yourinstagram lucky for you you're stuck with me

username THEY ARE SOOOOOOO

username third slide is so precious :(

pierregasly Can i be the **** ***

⤥ username BEST MAN???

arthur_leclerc No

lorenzotl No

username obsessed with the way they never confirmed the engagement rumors but are doing nothing to stop them

username i love them so much im sobbing

username it feels like just yesterday charles was accidentally confirming their relationship on twitch and now they're getting MARRIED

January 18, 2022

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourinstagram and 1,475,863 others

charles_leclerc Best day of my life forever. 👰‍♀️🤵🖤

View all 8,936 comments

username CRYING SO BADDDDDD

yourinstagram 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I LOVE U

⤥ charles_leclerc Love you more Mrs. Leclerc 🥰

username both of her dresses were so gorgeous oh my god

danielricciardo Party of the year

scuderiaferrari Congratulations to our two favorite people ❤️

username they look so unbelievable happy :( they deserve the world

lilymhe most beautiful bride!!!!!! and charles

⤥ yourinstagram sad you didn't stand up to object...

username this all happened because of alpine let's be honest

⤥ alpinef1team We got a thank you card in the mail 😊

username 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username they are soulmates im sure of it

pierregasly 🥂😛❤️‍🔥

username they got married on the 17th...exactly 3 years after they met 🥺

arthur_leclerc So happy ❤️

July 20, 2022

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine

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vax-merstappen · 10 months ago

Text

secret keeper (op81)

summary: trying to keep your and oscar's relationship hidden from the public was not easy, especially when the one person you trusted not to say anything may have told the whole grid what was going on.

this definitely got more funny than cute lol but this was probably my favorite fic to write! hope you enjoy!

You were walking through the paddock to meet up with the man who everyone knew as your best friend, Oscar Piastri. You had known each other for years, meeting when your brother had raced against him in a karting series. Though your brother had quit after only a few years of karting, you had grown close to Oscar and continued to hang out with him. When he got to Formula 1, you came to the races that you were able to in order to support your friend.

At least that's what the world thought. You and Oscar had been dating for 2 years before he started racing with McLaren. As a couple you mutually decided to keep your relationship as private as possible. Fans could get nasty and with Oscar's dream of making it to the pinnacle of motorsport, you knew that every single thing you did together would be analyzed if you were to go public. You liked your privacy and Oscar did too, so naturally it made sense to just be friends publicly.

Of course your families and close friends knew that you were dating. You had also informed the members of the team that needed to know, just so they could understand why you were always in the paddock. Outside of that, there were very few people that knew the situation.

So it was shocking to say the least when you passed by Pierre on the way to the McLaren hospitality one morning and he gave you a nod of recognition. "Ah, you're Oscar's friend!" he exclaimed, making air quotes as he said the word friend. He shook your hand and smiled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, wondering if he somehow knew you were dating Oscar.

Pierre looked embarrassed for a second. "Oh, um, I just meant that you guys seem too close to be just friends? You must be best friends to show up at all these races, he must see you like a sister?"

You cringed inwardly at being seen as Oscar's sister, but were ultimately relieved that Pierre did not know about your relationship. You wished Pierre luck on the race and continued towards the McLaren hospitality. Right before you could step inside, you saw Logan walking towards you.

He smiled before gesturing at you to follow him into the alley between the hospitality buildings. "You better treat him right," Logan said.

"Treat who right?" you asked, again scared that Logan knew about you dating Oscar.

"Oscar," he said and your heart skipped a beat. "If you're going to date him, you better do it right. If you break his heart, Alex and I will break you."

Your stomach dropped. "I, I how did you know?" you stammered.

"Oh, uh, lucky guess?" Logan shrugged awkwardly. "But, uh, don't mess with my boy." He walked away.

First Pierre acting weird and now Logan. Something was up and you needed to find Oscar to figure it out. You beelined into the hospitality to find where he could possibly be hiding. Checking all the rooms, you found that he was nowhere in sight. After asking around, you discovered that Oscar was scheduled to speak with the media at the press conference. You needed to find him before he got on that stage.

You walked as fast as you could without running towards where he was supposed to be. However, you looked to your right and saw yet another driver approaching you. Fernando Alonso himself rushed to your side.

"Hey congrats on the new boyfriend!" he said jokingly, before noticing the panicked expression on your face. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I need to find Oscar," you said. "Somehow all of you know about us and I don't know why and I'm scared."

Fernando looked you in the eyes. "Hey, it's alright, let's go find him together. He should be at the media stage right?"

You nodded and were relieved as Fernando began to lead you towards your boyfriend. "But seriously, how did you know?" you asked.

"Well I heard it from Carlos, but I don't know how he found out," he revealed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, Nando, just help me find Oscar."

You finally got to the stage and saw your boyfriend already being interviewed. Fernando gave you one last reassurance that everything would be okay before leaving you to go do his own press duties. You looked to the seat next to you and saw yet another driver.

"I think you make a great couple," George said, smiling at you. The his face dropped. "Oh, I wasn't supposed to talk about it. Shit."

"It's okay," you sighed. "I know that you know now. I just want to know how this happened."

"Well," George said, looking around before dropping into a whisper. "A certain driver may have slipped and said something about it to Alex who texted Logan, Charles, and I who may have said something to Lewis who actually kept his mouth shut but apparently Charles told Carlos, who told Checo and Nando, and Pierre, who told Esteban and Yuki. That same driver also told Daniel who let Max, Lance, and Nico in and then Nico told Kevin and Valtteri and then Valtteri told Zhou."

"How do you know all that?" you asked, amazed that George kept track of all of the gossip.

"The skill of gossiping comes with the job," he said. "But you didn't hear all this from me."

You nodded. There was nothing left to do now besides wait for your boyfriend to finish the conference. While he talked, you recalled a conversation you and Oscar had during the past week.

---

"I can't believe you bring your friend to so many races," Lando had remarked. "I almost thought you guys were dating at first."

You and Oscar had shared a look. You nodded to him to confirm it was okay to tell the truth.

"Well we are dating," Oscar said and Lando looked up from his phone, shocked.

"Oh my god! I was right!" he shouted.

You and Oscar immediately shushed him. "We're keeping it a secret for now," you explained. "Don't want the press digging into our relationship."

Lando nodded. "My lips are sealed."

Little did you know, he had immediately gone to talk to Alex and let it slip that you and Oscar were actually dating. And a few hours after that, he had mentioned it in conversation with Daniel.

---

You had a realization. The only person who you had mutually agreed to tell on the grid was Oscar's own teammate, Lando Norris. And while you had trusted him, he was sort of famous for being a PR problem.

You looked up to see Oscar leaving the press conference. Your boyfriend smiled and walked over to you when he saw you in the crowd.

"Oscar, the whole grid knows we are dating."

Oscar looked panicked. "I'm so sorry, babe. I don't know how this could have happened, let me go figure it out..."

"I know what happened," you interrupted.

"What?"

"We're going to need to have a conversation with a certain teammate of yours."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Of course it was him."

You two made your way to the McLaren garage and Oscar's face got angry when he saw Lando nonchalantly talking with one of the mechanics. Oscar was generally a quiet guy, but could be intimidating when necessary. You smiled as you prepared to watch the confrontation.

"LANDO MOTHERFUCKING NORRIS!" Oscar shouted. "Get your ass over here right now!"

Lando looked panicked and you could almost audibly hear him say "oh shit" before scurrying out of the garage. Your boyfriend looked back at you with an amused smile.

"Last time we trust him to keep our secrets."

You laughed before pulling Oscar into a hug. Even though Lando had leaked your relationship to the grid, you knew things wouldn't be so bad as long as you still had Oscar by your side.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic

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smusherina · 4 months ago

Text

bridges burnt - chapter 5 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

warning(s): weed mischief

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

You were sitting at your table, chatting amicably with everyone, when Gretchen finally graced you with her presence. She was glowing, that much you could admit.

"Hey, guys!" She gave an energetic greeting. You smiled and waved.

"Oh em gee, Gretch!" Regina said as she stood up. She was considerably taller than the bride, with killer heels that gave some significant inches. They did air kisses on each cheek and cooed and squealed for a little.

"It's been so long! You're so rarely in town I wasn't sure you'd come!" Gretchen enthused. Her husband stood on the sidelines, looking quite put out but trying to hide it.

"Oh, you know I always make time for you," A blatant lie but you weren't going to say anything about it. "I'm so happy you've found love!"

"Me too," Gretchen gushed, snaring her boo-thang by the arm. He'd zoned out so startled a little but recovered quick with a dashing smile.

"Hi, I'm Michael." Of course, his name was Michael. What was next? Chad? Tucker?

"Regina. Regina George." Regina said, then turned to you. "And this is my partner."

You stood up and shook his hand, then said your name. "Nice to meet you. Congrats."

Michael nodded, smiling uncomfortably. He'd seemed sociable and open with the other guests so you didn't get why he was being all shy now.

"Thanks!" Gretchen chirped. Her eyes flitted between you and Regina. "Sorry if this is abrupt, but you two are still together?"

"We did go on a break right before college." Regina chose her words deliberately. "But after that, we just couldn't resist. True love just pulls you in, doesn't it?" She put her arm around your waist and pulled you to her. You stumbled a little, falling into her. Your arms came around her neck.

Gretchen looked quite unsettled by the close embrace. "It totally does." She said, tone falling flat.

"Mmh. Well, what plans have you got? Honeymoon?"

"Michael's been planning it for us," Gretchen said. That surprised you considering she was such a control freak. Perhaps you were wrong.

"There's no keeping secrets from her," Michael laughed. "Surprising her is too damn hard." His Southern twang was prominent. Something was charming about him, you supposed.

"I just want it to be right, Mike!" Gretchen teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. "I've been better haven't I? I let Deborah do the flower arrangements."

"Yes, dear," Michael said, looking down at Gretchen with real, genuine love in his eyes.

Seeing them interact, so sweet on one another, made you sad. First of all, because you were so similar. You were on the same level, people just the same as them. Looking at them like this, in just the context of the moment currently playing out, you didn't want to ruin their wedding.

But you had history. Gretchen had outed you to the school in junior year of high school. It'd had devastating effects on your life as a whole. Your father went from cold neglect to open disdain, you lost the jobs you were doing around the neighbourhood, your peers ostracised you. Those close to you, Regina mostly, got targeted rumours spread around and more negative attention than ever.

Gretchen was not the sole reason for your and Regina's break up but definitely one of them. You had settled to forgive and forget when you came back to town, to stay away and not say anything in a silent, mutual agreement. You buried the hatchet and thought she had, too.

You should've known better. Watching her make googly eyes at her husband as if the things she did had no bearing, no weight, infuriated you. She had ruined your life. Things had progressed since you were in high school and outing didn't have quite the same fallout, but what she did to Kylie was still unforgivable. There hadn't been that much progress. Gay marriage was still illegal in some states.

"Man, Gretchen, seeing you like this brings me back." You said, eyeing her. "Those sure were the days," You sighed and played wistful.

The bride and groom shared glances. Regina picked up what you were putting down and got involved.

"You'll be seeing just how much of a wildcat she is, Michael," Regina said, laying it on thick. "You have my number, Gretch, just give me a call if you wanna relive old times on your wedding night." She finished off with a saucy wink. You almost couldn't hold in your laughter.

"Toodles," Regina wiggled her fingers and took you by the arm, leading you away.

Once you were a safe distance away, you asked: "Wonder if they'll talk about that in private?"

"About Gretchen being involved, allegedly, in a lesbian threesome sandwich? I'd bet on it." Regina grinned.

You steered towards the exit to the parking lot where your car was. You had the kazoos and water pistols in the trunk. Maybe you spent a good fifteen minutes pinning Regina to the side of your flashy vintage—Betty the Catalina, you introduced—sucking the soul out of her through her mouth. Making out. Whatever, that was neither here nor there.

While Regina set out to find a gullible mother to deceive into giving out kazoos and water pistols, you called a guy. Rick was his name and he owed you a favour. He happened to be the owner of several karaoke bars. He'd hook you up.

"Yeah, anything will do, just needs to connect to the loudspeakers—uhh, pretty new I'd say, nothing too fancy but they didn't skimp out, that's for sure—yeah, yeah, I'll give you the address. Can he get here in an hour? Maybe less? I can pay his speeding tickets, no worries."

After making sure a karaoke machine would be delivered to the reception, you strutted back towards the building. On the way, you spotted three youths huddled in a non-descript spot by some shed. They were only visible from the parking lot. You knew what they were up to.

"Hey, kids," You sidled up to them, prompting the tallest of them to fumble with the joint he was trying to light. He had acne all over and residues of black eyeliner on his eyes. He had a strip of hair dyed stripey like a racoon tail. It was pretty cool, to be honest.

"H- hey," He stuttered, voice cracking as he swiped some hair from his eyes. Oh, to be young.

"You got weed?" You decided to be blunt. (Ha, blunt.) The two others were shaking like leaves in their tuxedos.

"No. I don't, like, even know what that is," The ring-leader crossed his arms defensively and leaned casually against the wall of the shed. Or, well, he was going for casual but looked extremely spooked.

"Well, that's a damn shame 'cause I was just looking to buy some." You said and reached into your breast pocket to pull out your wallet. You opened it and pulled out a couple of fifties. "I got all this cash to burn. But, hey, if you don't got any..."

"You'd pay that much for weed?" The boy eyed the bills hungrily.

"I'll be straight with you, kid-"

"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen." He grumped. "Flint. Or Finnigan, I guess."

"Alright, Flint, I'm gonna put this bluntly. Your family sorta sucks." You looked at the other two. They were probably all cousins. Wouldn't tattle if Flint, the Cool One, told them not to. They didn't seem that much younger. As a responsible adult, you should've probably said something along the lines of 'don't smoke it's bad for you' but you were just glad they weren't shooting up or anything.

"Understatement of the century," He scoffed.

"Which side are you from, by the way?"

"The groom's." They all said in unison. That explained why you'd never seen most of these folk.

"I don't know much about him to be fair, but if he's shacking up with Gretchen I'm pretty sure they're equally sucky. Anyway, I'm trying to get everybody as fucked up as possible." You clarified, skirting around exactly what you were trying to do which was to ruin the wedding. Maybe these kids had better morals than you. "The bride sorta caused a rift between my girlfriend and I years back, outed me to the whole school, it was a scandal, we broke up and I spiralled. It was bad and I want revenge."

"She outed you? Like..." Flint looked around, looking scared someone was gonna hear. Nobody else was around. "Like you're gay?"

"I'm here with my girlfriend today." You said, smiling dopeyly. Your cheeks hurt. "I think we're back together. It's complicated. So, you wanna sell?"

"Hell yeah," He grinned, teeth crooked to the ninth degree. "Can we get in on it? Michael totally sucks, he orders us around like we're his minions or something."

The other two nodded along empathetically. They all had the same boxy, swoopy haircut that kept falling into their eyes. What luck that ran into the angsty teens of the clan.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to do without getting in trouble with your parents. Gotta be at least a little subtle."

Flint dug into his backpack and pulled out a plastic tupperware. There were some decent-looking nugs in there from what you could see through the frosted plastic. You handed over the cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you." You contemplated for a moment. "Any chance you could pull the fire alarm for the cake-cutting?"

The three matching evil grins were enough of an answer for you. Their little emo faces made your chest feel warm. You wanted to take them under your wing, or something.

"By the way, weed is fine. It's not great, I don't recommend it, but if you're gonna do drugs then this is best case scenario." You shook the plastic case in your hand. "Never do hard drugs. It's gonna make your hair fall out and teeth hurt like a bitch."

You left the three teenagers to smoke their blunt, knowing that your little shpiel probably went through one ear and out the other. You hoped they pulled through but if they didn't, you were planning on doing enough wicked shit that the sprinklers triggering would just be a cherry on top.

You found Janis smoking a cigarette at the same spot you'd been at earlier.

"You got a grinder?"

You opened the lid of the box, blasting the air with the potent smell of cannabis.

"Where the fuck did you get all that?" She asked as she reached into her purse.

"Not important. What is, though, is how we'll get the guests high."

Janis, the bright mind that she was, immediately got to work. You didn't even bother asking what she was up to when she crouched on the floor and began grinding away. She had fast hands, you observed, with how quick and clean she was rolling several blunts. Now that you saw clearly into the tupperware, lord almighty Flint had a lot of kush.

"What's the plan?" You asked after a moment, holding the box in one hand and blunts in the other. You stubbornly ignored the compulsion to stick one between your lips and light up. That was over for you.

"Find a Helen, a Beatrice, and or a Leigh-Anne, and convince them this is a miracle herb harvested from the government-protected, top-secret alpine springs of Florida, known for reversing wrinkles, repairing hymens, and with long-term use reducing hair growth neck down. It might even accelerate or delay menopause, depending on whose asking."

"Florida is the flattest state in the continental USA." You pointed out.

"Exactly." Janis didn't spare you a glance, just kept on rolling.

"So we're spinning a multilevel-marketing scheme on these people."

"Not really." Janis paused and turned to you. "We're just scamming them. Not even with money, with the devil's lettuce."

"That's arguably worse. I think this might be a felony."

"Oh, it definitely is."

Notes: The ball is rolling! At last! It only took five chapters good golly god.

Taglist posted seperately! If you want on it, comment so on that post!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #mean girls fanfic #fic: bridges burnt

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nicxl333 · 1 year ago

Note

“Baby you sold me a dream” IS SO GOOODDD WTFFFF YOU GOTTA MAKE A PART 3 FOR BAROU AND RIN 🫶🫶PLSSS

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.3

you ask and you shall receive (•̀ᴗ•́)و

i do feel like rin and barou deserve some form of justice so here’s a continued ending to part two. i swear to you there’s a good ending this time.

also this took me time to write cause i’m hella busy with school since it’s my last year…exams and the like yadayadayada. anyways enough about me, happy reading!

characters: barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: angst, fluff, swearing

please note: if you haven’t read pt.1 or pt.2 please read both for context

taglist (cause ik i pissed y’all off 💀): @faeroow @samisamaza @dookiemeshibear @91ed0 @v1v1arish

BAROU SHOUEI ☆彡

it was bound to happen. you both had mutual connections to each other, but you were hoping and praying you wouldn’t have to have direct contact with him at this event.

however, you can’t get everything you want in life.

this event was one of major importance: the wedding of chigiri and his long time partner. you were close enough to be made the maid of honour by chigiri’s soon to be wife, and therefore already stressed with the meticulous planning of the wedding. even worse once you learned barou was on the guest list. it was stupid of you to think he wouldn’t be, given that the entirety of former blue lock players were there.

and so, you dreadfully counted down the days to the wedding, growing more and more anxious that you would have to see him.

ever since you ended things with him, you hadn’t been the best simply put. you still had feelings for him. regardless of how he treated you, there’s was something about him that put him apart from the rest.

and that scared you. mostly because you thought you were exiting your relationship for your own good, but you were fighting with yourself just as hard to avoid taking him back.

and you hoped those feelings wouldn’t overload during this wedding.

you sat in the room where chigiri’s fiancé was getting ready. the room was bustling, the makeup artist and hairstylist working simultaneously to get her finished in time, while you and the bridesmaids, already dolled up in your tailor made dresses, were giving her words of encouragement to ease her nerves, ignoring your own for the sake of the couple. once she was done and the dress was on everyone stared in awe, you included at how beautiful she looked. however you couldn’t help but think if that’s what you and barou could’ve been, what you could’ve had. who knows.

you pushed it all away though, for the ceremony was about to begin. all the bridesmaids lined up with their groomsmen, you at the front with chigiri’s best man, kunigami rensuke. when the music started, the venue coordinators opened the ceiling high doors and out your pair walked first, arm in kunigami’s.

“congrats on your win rensuke, i saw your match. looks like you’ve gotten sloppy though, your kicks have lost power.” you teased.

you and kunigami were friends, meeting each other through chigiri, immediately getting along.

“oh please, i’d like to see you do better in my exact position.”

“i wouldn’t need to, a five year old could’ve done better.”

“stay bitter y/n.”

you lightly chuckled to yourself as you reached halfway down the aisle. you could see your best friend at the alter, smiling proudly at you. you smiled back, looking around to see how beautiful the hall was. everyone involved with the planning had really outdone themselves.

your eyes had happened to wander too far however, immediately locking with a familiar pair of red eyes conveniently standing in front of a seat closest to the aisle. in that moment your heart had skipped a beat, seeing the man you still once loved looking at you as hard as you were looking at him. his hair was down for once, donned in a black sheen suit, with a navy blue tie. he looked so handsome, and you had fallen right into his trap. you couldn’t pinpoint it, but he was also looking at kunigami with a face of…discontent?

you forced yourself to tear your eyes away, focusing on what you were supposed to be doing, which was completing your walk.

as you neared closer to him, your anxiety grew with each step, until you were parallel to him. you passed him completely with two more steps, proud at yourself for not acknowledging him. that work was undone though once a wave of your favourite cologne on him hit your nostrils, melting at the familiarity.

you immediately collected yourself, completing the walk up to the altar and disconnecting from rensuke with a small pinch to his arm, to which he lightly swatted at you with a smile. your hand reached out to briefly hold chigiri’s with an encouraging smile before making your way to stand to the left of the altar, facing the crowd.

as the other bridesmaids were walking down the aisle you couldn’t help but sneak a few glances towards barou every now and then, only to find he was already looking at you each and every time.

after an exchange of vows, a few tears shed here and there, and rings given, the spotlight couple were announced husband and wife and exchanged a long kiss. the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and the reception was about to commence.

once the food was eaten and speeches had been given, most of the attendees had either made their way to the dance floor or broke into conversation with others.

you did neither the former or the latter however, instead opting to sit at your table alone, watching others have their moment.

“hey.”

you froze, head whipping to your right just in time to see barou himself sinking into the seat beside you.

“hey…shouei.”

“good turnout huh, heard you had a hand in the planning. you did well.”

“what is it? cause we both know you didn’t come to talk about the decor shouei.”

he paused for a moment, not expecting you to be so sharp about it.

“i wanted to see how you were doing. i miss you y/n, badly. and i know you established your boundaries the last time we saw each other, but when i saw you enter it just reminded me of us, especially when i saw him next to you. dunno, call it jealousy or some shit.” you looked down, studying your maid of honour dress, while contemplating what to do.

this weren’t heading in a good direction, you could tell. specifically because you missed him too. and your composure was slowly unraveling. and you cursed yourself for having a few flute-fulls of champagne, because you knew your tongue had loosened up enough to speak your truth.

“i…miss you too. but i don’t know, shouei, why does it have to take losing me just for you to realised what you had? why let it get to this point? we could’ve been in so much of a better place right now.”

“i know y/n, shit, i know. but i wanna make it up to you. wanna show you how much i appreciate you for what you do. i know i should’ve done better by you, but that’s why i’m here now. to make up for my actions. i wanna start over with you.”

he looked at you still avoiding looking at him, taking his index finger and thumb to lift up your chin towards him, slowly rubbing your lip. he knew you liked it. it made you realise maybe he did pay attention to you here and there.

“we’ll go slow y/n, i’m gonna take my time to do this properly with you.”

you gave him a nod, and with that, he neared closer to you for a kiss, you meeting him halfway until you connected, sharing a sweet moment. your hands threaded through his hair, feeling his soft locks in your grasp. after a while you parted, his eyes full of adoration, something you didn’t know he could show.

“c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

ITOSHI RIN ☆彡

life went on. for six more months rin carried on climbing his way to the top, attempting day by day to erase you out of his mind. he went on dates, brought numerous girls home. it just posed one slight problem though;

none of them were you.

he ultimately gave up on love, believing that you were as good as it gets. he screwed up, and now someone that wasn’t him was able to enjoy the undeniable luxury that was you.

he really fucked up.

it was his own fault, any idiot could see that.

and paired with his stresses concerning you, the pressure of being a football player was getting to him. he needed an escape. and so, in the late hours of a simple thursday night he ventured to a discreet bar downtown japan, considering he was out of season currently. mind you, rin never drank, but if exiting sobriety would ease the devastation coursing through his body, then so be it. he’d deal with the consequences later.

what he didn’t anticipate however, upon entering the bar, that he would chance upon the very centre of his agony once again. seemed like life just continually kept kicking him in the balls.

what he should’ve done, was exit immediately, come to term with the fact that you had a new life, new lover, and therefore not open that door of angst once more. but…that selfish element inside him wanted to indulge in you, give him that temporary relief to bask in your presence, know where you are in that moment, what you’re doing.

and so, he walked into the bar, taking a seat on a barstool, opposite ends of the room from you where he could see you in between the few people in the bar.

he ordered a drink, letting his black card give a payment from the hundreds of thousands that resided in his account.

he took discreet glances of you here and there as he slowly sipped on his drink, the burning in his throat soon to be gnawing away at pieces of his rationality.

however, the more he looked at you over time swirling a finger around in your drink, the more he noticed something was off. he blinked harder, looked more attentively- were you crying?

he immediately entered a state of protective mode, feeling a panging state of yearning to brush away your tears.

the drink didn’t help either, for he felt himself rising off his seat, something he wouldn’t never done had he been sober, and took quick paces towards your table.

the tears were more evident now he was closer. bags weighed underneath your eyes, but he still found you to be as beautiful as ever. even in your state of disarray.

you caught him in your peripheral, slowly coming into full view the nearer he got to you. at this point you couldn’t give a shit, simply over it and everything life had to offer at this moment.

you barely acknowledged him as he slid into the seat opposite you, a heavy silence setting into place. you both had more than enough things to say, but no words escaped.

eventually however someone had to face the music.

“you’re finally ready to talk huh? only took you 10 months itoshi-san.”

itoshi-san. he hated it. hated how it symbolised the distance between you two. how in less than a year, two individuals who were so close with each other, so damn comfortable could end up this way.

“i- yes. yeah i am.”

you waved a waiter over, ordering drinks for the both of you, rin looking at you in confusion once the waiter walked away.

“we both know damn well this conversation ain’t gonna go easy. and i’m already suffering from a breakup. might as well loosen up before you lay it all out on the table.”

within record time your drinks arrived, downed immediately by both parties.

“so, what is it rin?”

he stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. he knew what he wanted, but to voice it to you was a different story.

“i…i fucked up. badly y/n. i took my anger out on you where it wasn’t needed-”

“badly is an understatement rin. you degraded me, hurt and damaged me- made me feel some type of way because you— you felt threatened because someone acknowledged your state of distress? has it ever occurred to you that i was trying to help you? because i love— loved you rin.”

he flinched at your slip up, the word ‘love’ shattering him into pieces. you weren’t done though.

“have you ever seen it from my perspective for once? i never felt like you loved me, god knows you didn’t tell me enough. i went above and beyond for you, given the fact we didn’t see each other enough, what the hell did i know?” your voice cracked mid sentence, emotions you’ve kept in for the past year coming to surface. tears came up once again and cascaded down your cheeks right in front of him.

although the boundaries were there, he couldn’t just let you suffer alone, especially because he was the source of your bottled up pain.

he rose once more, dashing to your side and engulfing you in the biggest hug. your sobs grew in intensity, the unexpected comfort from rin sending you into overdrive. he shushed you, slowly rubbing the back of your neck with his thumb as he held you close, scared you’d escape his grasp once more.

after awhile your sobs subsided, taking deep breaths into his chest. you basked in the familiar warmth coming from him.

“i still love you rin, i really do…but i can’t live like this. if you can’t change your ways, there’ll never be a way out for us.”

“y/n, i swear to you, this last year has been pure hell for me. being without you by my side, living without you has made me realise just how much i should’ve valued you more. i need you, i can’t live without you, not in peace i can’t. and i am so fucking sorry for everything i put you through. if you’d have me, i’ll do everything in my power for the rest of my life to make sure this doesn’t happen again. there is no one who compares to you, i can be absolutely certain of that.”

it was silent once more, you could feel his heart pulsating in anxiety from what your answer would be. you both knew that you still loved each other, but your fear held you back. fear that things would end up the same way it ended. alas, you missed him so much. even while you were with your partner, he wasn’t rin. the fact that he cheated on you spoke volumes to you loud enough. your selfish nature yearned for rin. so maybe…just maybe, things would be different this time around? time to find out.

“alright��we’ll try this once more. but rin,” you pulled away from him so he could see your expression. “i’m being serious. if you fuck this up, i can guarantee you, you’ll never have me again. and i promise you that.”

“i won’t screw this up y/n. not again, i won’t lose you again.”

he lowered himself to you, gently clutching your chin and sealed his words with a passion filled kiss.

“i love you y/n.”

“i love you too rin.”

409 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 15 days ago

Text

Thirst for Life (As It Is) - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 3,7k

Summary: You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

A slice of life kind of fic, a moment of love life of Steve Rogers and his beloved.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, fingering, oral (F rec), allusions to penetrative sex, brief mention of canon typical injuries, briefest allusions to angst, FLUFF, dorks in love

A/N: Super belated entry for Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge hosted by @steviebbboi. Thank you for hosting and congrats again💕 I got inspired by the prompt Aw, does it feel good right here?🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love? Does it feel good right there?"

A blatant, wicked tease, rewarded by a breathless curse spilling from parted lips, a soundless complaint.

Unable to help yourself, you giggled, kissing the spot again, earning a grunt – a sound of protest and approval alike.

“Just you wait…” Steve muttered, annoyed and somewhat fond at once, groaning when you pressed with your fingers this time, feeling the tight knot right under his right shoulder blade as if growing thicker to rebel against your care. “And this isn’t funny.”

You licked your lips, biting back to fight another laugh and losing anyway.

“Come on, Steve… it’s a little funny.”

It was a little funny.

Steve Rogers, a mighty supersoldier, all muscle and broadness, filling the space of the large bed. A paragon of strength and justice, shoulders wide enough to carry the weight of the world, his heart a shield for those who needed protection, his shield the heart of the Avengers. A seemingly fearless leader, a strategic mastermind, an excellent fighter; the embodiment of masculinity and power and righteousness and love.

All that and more – brought to its knees by a pulled muscle.

Of course, if it were up to Steve only, he would not even let this slow him down, not in the slightest, let alone bring him down his knees. Oh no.

It was your gentle offer; a soft touch of a hand, a sweet promise, a confession and a plea on your lips.

“Let me help, love.”

A gaze of mutual affection exchanged; a kiss to his lips to seal the deal with tenderness you knew your might have to abandon if you wanted to help set his body right.

It was a little funny.

The huge hunk of supersoldier muscle, turned into a puddle of a man under your touch. You treated him with as much skill as you would any other client or a patient of yours, if perhaps with a little softer care and with considerably less professionalism.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; Steve Rogers was infinitely much more to you. The love radiating from the depth of your heart turned tangible in his proximity; undeniably present in your touch, be it your hands or your lips trying to sooth the pain, be it you straddling his hips which seemed almost absurdly narrow in comparison of the enormity of his shoulders, be it your words of affection or gentle teasing.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; most of those who came in specifically with a pulled muscle were there because they had been helping a friend moving furniture, overestimated themselves in a gym, or snapped their head to the side too fast.

Your boyfriend of almost one year, on the other hand, had pulled a muscle when lifting a goddamn car off of someone to whose rescue he had rushed to.

Pressing against the knot, gently but firmly enough to make Steve groan – a sound of complaint bleeding into one of gratitude as you gradually released the pressure – you allowed the piece of information about him having practically lifted a car wash over you again, the astonishment at absurdity and curiosity of life fresh as if it was something entirely new to you.

But it wasn’t. It most definitely wasn’t the first time you had been confronted with this part of who Steve was. It wasn’t the first time you were confronted with how much the serum had enhanced his strength and possibly stubbornness, with what he did for living and how, or with the insistent calling in his very soul to help and serve and be nothing but a profoundly good man. It was hardly the first time and yet you guessed it would never cease to amaze you.

His good heart and his kind soul. His brilliant mind and his incredible body. A man all strong and resilient, but not invincible, not unbreakable.

And perhaps that was where the laugh was coming from – the reason why you couldn’t quite help yourself but tease him, why you couldn’t quite stop giggling.

The relief.

Because Steve Rogers – one of the greatest heroes of your time and the past alike – coming back home with only a pulled muscle was nothing short of a miracle, and this was how your strained body and mind expressed the utter, overwhelming relief coursing your veins.

Because Steve came home. Home to you.

Another day, another save.

Another day he could have caught a knife to his gut or to his neck. Another day he could have caught a bullet an inch from his heart or straight through. Another day he could have been taken and tortured for information or for the twisted fun of hurting Captain America.

None of that had happened.

Instead, it was another day Steve came home to you in one piece. Even if tired and with a pulled muscle.

You’d count your blessings, over and over, more so since you knew how and why he had pulled that muscle; gold of heart and dumb of ass, he couldn’t have waited for someone to come help him, not when the man who had been pinned under a damn car was so clearly and understandably in pain.

Steve’s mind was a brilliant thing, coming up with impenetrable strategies, with a plan B for the plan B and with a plan C and D just in case, carefully predicting outcomes and calculating risks; sometimes he just got bad at math when calculating risks for himself when he couldn’t bear seeing others suffer.

You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

And he’d let you, even if the first time you had met had certainly not been the case. Not with him having been dragged in, after having his knee busted in a fight, arguing that he did not need anyone’s help, because he was enhanced by the supersoldier serum and his body had always healed on its own. You wouldn’t have it; you had met all the unwilling patients and sceptics. So you took one glance at the man who had literally dragged him in – his best friend, Bucky Barnes, seemingly more exhausted by his attitude than by the fact he had been carrying a significant weight of the huge pile of muscle Steve Rogers was – and then took another look at the man behind the shield himself, before you listed all the muscles, tendons and bones that would have begged him to differ in reaction to such claim.

To this day, you were not quite sure whether it had been your knowledge or your ability to simply not have his attitude that had impressed him more, but later you would find out his attitude was more about him feeling like others needed your help more than him and less about him questioning your field or expertise. That had mattered to you; what mattered also was that Bucky was never going to let you or Steve live your so-called meet-cute down, claiming he knew right away Steve had fallen in love the very second.

So you’d count your blessing and you’d let yourself feel whatever came, and you’d let yourself be consumed by the love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

You let yourself laugh again even as Steve grumbled under you, muttering something about maybe deserving it. You appreciated the self-awareness. You appreciated him.

You smiled as you let your hands roam with purpose, warm touch mapping out his pains and still taking moments to caress and indulge in exploring his body, cherishing the beautiful view of the expanse of his back and the feel of his strength yielding to your care with endless trust.

“I feel a little less treated and little more objectified at this point,” he muttered, a smile evident in his voice even before your gaze flickered to his face, now turned to side as he rested his cheek on the back of his hand.

One corner of your lips rose higher, barely a flicker of shame in your chest. You’d never violate a patient or a client like that; but you’d also never miss a chance to feel closer to Steve, miss a chance to touch him, to cherish the contact and to make him feel loved.

“Is there a complaint you’d like to submit, sir?” you questioned, a wide smile setting on your lips as he hummed in disapproval.

Still, you finished the treatment with a last few strokes that were indeed more of a gentle closing than anything else, climbed off of him and pulled the blanket over his naked back to keep the muscles warm.

He blinked his eyes open as you sat by his side on the bed, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

The second he reached out his hand to hold you, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, making him huff but obediently stop his progress.

“You know the rules, Steve. Stay still for a bit, let the body process. I’ll bring you some fluids.”

He sighed, squinting at you with adorable defiance. “I do know… I don’t have like it. Maybe just a minor complaint then.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him on the pillow, feeling your heart tremble in thorough warmth as he observed you with sleepy intent and a look closest to adoration you had ever seen.

“What’s that, Captain Rogers?” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

You relaxed into the mattress, shoulders slumping, heart a second from melting as the lightest and most delightful feeling spread through your veins, a rush so powerful it almost chased tears into your eyes.

To care and be cared for; to love and be loved, so utterly you had never believed it possible until you met Steve Rogers, most certainly the love of your life.

Reaching out, your fingertips lightly caressed his cheek, his eyelids slipping shut; you brushed over the arches of his brows, over the slope of his nose, over his lips – instantly pursing for a light kiss to your fingers – and caressed his scalp, only to meet his gaze again, so tender you felt something inside your soul shift and shudder in pure happiness.

“I know you will when I need it,” you assured him, bringing a ghost of a smile to his face. “And I’m pretty sure that’s the idea. That we’re supposed to be taking care of each other, love.”

A sparkle lit up his tired eyes, his smile turning positively goofy.

“I like that,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said, pressing another kiss to his forehead and climbing to your feet. “Now be a good patient and stay still for a bit, just like everyone else… no matter how special you are to me.”

“Mmm, if you say so… I love you.”

You fought the urge to lie next to him, reminding yourself that if you got him fluids now, you could lie with him and bask in his warmth later and with no interruptions.

“I love you too, Steve.”

By the time you got back, hands clean of the essential oil and full with a mug of tea and a tall glass of water, you found him fast asleep, still on his front, arms hugging his pillow.

Not bothering to fight off your smile this time, you set the mug on the nightstand, tucked the blanket higher to his chin and climbed up to the bed to sit and prop up on the headboard.

You reached for the engagement ring you had taken off for the massage first and put it back where it belonged, and only then for your half-read book, gaze once more flickering to man who had stolen your heart and would never give it back.

Attention divided, you read; but mainly you kept your future husband company, watching over his peaceful and more than deserved sleep.

Because that was what you were supposed to do; watch over each other, look out for one another, and take care of each other.

And in a few months, you’d promise to continue doing that with love for the rest of your lives, swearing so in front of your friends and families.

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love?” he teased, every syllable dripping off his lips rich and heady like honey, and even with your eyes fluttered shut, you could see his beautifully wicked smile, the spark in his eyes that shone dark, lit alive in a way that was reserved for you; and only for you. “Does it feel good right there?"

You recognized the echo of your own words, Steve’s voice coloured with sweet vindication. He knew exactly what he was doing and he revelled in it; you would protest and complained again if your lips remembered how to speak beyond Steve’s name and breathless pleas. You would protest if you truly wanted to and he would stop in an instant. You would protest if your hands were not literally tied.

Again, unlike your other patients, all Steve had needed was your skilled touch and a good rest. A few hours of sleep, Erskine’s serum working its magic and he had been good to go; perhaps not for another mission, not for a training session, but for repaying your service with love and adoration and desire.

Hugging your middle after waking up, resting his head over your thigh, he had sent a single glance up at you and you had very well forgotten what you had been reading.

He had kissed your palms in thank you, one and then the other, lingering with his gaze and his lips, and you had already been forgetting your own name.

He had pressed a kiss to your wrists, wrapping them in satin like a precious gift, smiling as he had to ruck up the sleeves of his very shirt you had chosen to wear to bed to do so.

He had ghosted his lips over your fingertips as he tied your wrists to the headboard, making sure you rested your hands, the most important asset for your work; conveniently putting your engagement ring on display for him to see at all times while doing so.

He had met your lips in a kiss so sultry you barely caught your breath, before they strayed over every inch of newly revealed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt, lingering in all his and your favourite places, hands roaming, caressing, holding, owning.

You arched against his mouth when he reached his prize, forearm draping over your middle, keeping you grounded as he lifted you towards the stars once, almost for the second time, until his fingers joined to show off his own talented touch and to bring you to the brink of madness.

“Did not quite catch that, sweetheart,” he muttered to the burning skin of your inner thigh, rendering you speechless with his tongue before you could catch your wits and answer. “I suppose I should try again…”

“Steve-“

“Right here, love… give me one more. Let me take care of you… you said you knew I would take care of you when you’d need it, didn’t you? Do you need it now, love?”

Steven Grant Rogers, you little shit- was the thought that flew through your head so fast you couldn’t hope to catch it let alone verbalize it. Not with how your head was beginning to spin when his lips, his hands, his wicked tongue and seemingly innocent filthy talk carried by his deep voice overwhelmed your senses and chased you higher and closer to your peak with every passing torturous second.

“Yes-“ was what actually spilled from your lips breathily, followed by a keen of please.

“Then be good and stay still.”

Steve’s dark mischievous gaze met yours, the erotic sight of him between your legs, wide shoulders barely fitting, with his palm sprawled to your belly and seemingly enjoying himself thoroughly was your undoing, along with things he did and you could not hope to put into words; not when your vision whited out with a cry of his name and wave of numbing bliss washing over you and pulling you under.

You were trying to catch your breath as he let you ride out your high, firm, wet languid kisses pressed to your thighs, your stomach, your breasts with just a graze of teeth to both increase your pleasure and to satisfy the man who loved to get lost in exploring your body and consuming you whole.

When his lips finally met yours again, you did not care you still hadn’t quite earned enough oxygen, whimpering against the demanding kiss as Steve’s fingers curled just to press at the spot again, while he casually rested his weight on his elbow, left hand interlacing his fingers with yours to feel the ring he had slipped on your finger just a few weeks ago.

“Love you so much, sweetheart. Love seeing you like this, so beautiful, so blissed out and so, so mine…” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had been the one to crying out in ecstasy.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Instinctively moving to touch him, to keep him closer, you tugged at the soft fabric around your wrists, huffing in frustration when all you could do was squeeze Steve’s hand tighter.

“Hands, love?” you pleaded, arching your body against his, hovering too high for your taste even when your bare chest brushed his, your body drinking hungrily the heat which his own was radiating. “Want to touch you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

As thoroughly distracting as his lips were, pressing back to yours as he blindly loosened the knots, your hands sprang the moment you were free, sighing as the utter delight at holding onto your lover flooded every cell of your body, fingers raking through his hair, digging into his back to pull his closer to your embrace.

His lips eased the pressure, nose bumping yours, fingertips brushing your cheek tenderly, his smile as sweet as sinful, and when you blinked your eyes open, you couldn’t but bask in the blinding light of adoration shining in Steve’s blown pupils.

“You alright, sweetheart? Can you take more?”

The question nor the concern were new; yet they tasted as lovely as Steve’s smile when he leaned in to kiss you again.

You ran your hand down the lovely expanse of his back, pressing to meet his hardness, a wordless agreement.

“Yes, just… be careful.”

Steve’s lips parted from yours with a wet pop, genuine worry instantly overtaking his features, his weight easing from your body – almost making you regret what you were about to say when he’d inevitably ask-

“Are you hurting? Did I do anything-“

“I’m fine, Stevie…” you assured him, brushing a lose strand away from his forehead, smoothening the crease that formed there, your wildly pounding heart shivering from his tender care for you, his consideration, his willingness to walk away from chasing his own pleasure and just hold you should you wish so for whatever reason.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his frown only deepening with disapproval as he probably thought you were about to downplay whatever it was that bothered you, what he had done to hurt you or was causing you pain – like Mr. Hypocrite, your softest, biggest love.

“No need to worry, Steve. I just want you to be careful, you know… you might pull a muscle and need medical and fluids after.”

A beat of silence, bated breaths.

And then you were bursting out with laughter at Steve’s scandalized expression, the sound blending into a yelp as he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you to the air. He stood up in a whirlwind of a movement, spinning you until your back hit the wall, blow softened by his palm while his other moved under your bottom, fingers digging to your flesh, pinning you to the hard surface by his hips, his chest, and mainly by his lips crashing against yours, stealing the laughter from you very lungs, drinking your love from the very bottom of your heart.

He nipped at your bottom lip, hips bucking against yours, his voice a sultry promise you couldn’t wait for him to make good on; for all the teasing, you knew that indeed, your Steve would have caring for you at the forefront of his mind. You could feel his love undeniably present in his touch, be it his hands or his lips, be it his words of affection or the gentle, exhilarating threats:

“Oh just you wait, love… we’ll see who’ll need what after I’m done with you… I was so well-taken care of by my future wife, I think I want to start training for our wedding night. And sweetheart,” he whispered, warm breath brushing your ear, “I think it’s time we try to push our record to double digits.”

As a shudder ran down your spine like a livewire, your heart jumping to your throat with how your blissed-out mind scrambled to try to imagine that, you let your body sink into his, counted your blessing, and let yourself feel whatever was about to come.

You let yourself be consumed by love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

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newtkive · 11 months ago

Text

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

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2-dsimp · 11 months ago

Text

—————————————

Popular choice✨

—> [Go along with Childe]

—————————————

Current time: 5:38pm

—————————————

Congrats!

You’ve managed to keep the peace so far by keeping Childe at bay and there’s been some progress on the trek towards the red ones hideout!

——————————/—/————————————Karate club leader! Childe is currently stable and is calmed by your presence leaving you with some ample reprieve! However, he is still not reassured from what had transpired earlier with you and Occult club leader Chongyun.

Current Affection lvl: 100 {+10}

Envy 0/50% < -5> // Insanity 22/50% < +2 >

Trust lvl: 40/100 (+-0)

—————————————

🚨MAIN MISSION QUOTA 🚨

——————————/—/—

《Your main priority as of right now is to Keep the peace between your party members and reach the Red ones hide out first! 》

____________________

【The goal of finding the other 4 admirers who’ve spotted you with Occult club leader! Chongyun has been put on hold until you reassure your first target Karate club leader Childe!】

——————————/—/————

Completion: An item, skill set level up!, Razor’s Ally rank up!, and Side missions

Failure:???

——————————/—/—

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ You are lagging behind Sports club Leader! Gorou & Delinquent gang Leader! Itto! They’ve seem to have taken the lead!

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ Discipline committee member! Heizou has befriended Karate club member! Razor due to their mutual interests and seem to have something planned together…

——————————/—/—————————————

☣️ IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED☣️

Discipline committee member! Heizou and Razor seem to be concluding with each other! And Razor beckons you to join them, and you ALONE, to discuss something. Since Childe is passive at the moment you could risk leaving his side for a little bit but he’s still quite sensitive to change!

——————————/—/————————————

Objective: choose your priority

——————————/—/—————————————

—> [Stay by Childe’s side]

—> <Bring along Childe and head towards them>

—> (Group up with everyone for a game plan)

—> {join Heizou and Razor}

—> <Tell everyone to pick up the pace!>

——————————/—/—————————————

helpful inquiries ✨

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ i thought about this plot over and over, and I hesitated publishing it since i don’t want to deviate so much from everything but i said fuck it, so now ere i am, greeting y’all with ‘wassup villain’

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @shuna-boin

⚠️ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ Mommy issues, mention of death,, profane language, plot progression. Pronouns keep shifting bc Miles thinks you’re a guy. A bit confusing? Anyways, congrats with your debut. I’ve got uh.. A little surprise? Enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"Park behind the building B, McLaren. I’ll have to deal with a separate matter, for now, call backup."

"Yes, miss."

Ring. Ring.

Your head pivots at the sound of your phone’s ringing, eagerly answering the call without having to look into the ID, knowing a thing or two about a certain someone’s timing.

“What’s going on so early in the morning?” Your father haggardly asks. You could already smell the stench of his morning breath from the car.

“We have trespassers in the Warehouse.” You start. “Two of them, partners. The duo we know as the Prowlers.”

“What?” You hear the morning grogginess laced in his voice. “Who leaked the information?”

“I’ve updated Morrison and he’s currently investigating the black market. I suspect a traitor.”

“Evidence?”

“There’d been no reports of outsiders entering the vicinity. All employees have been given fake addresses and all of their gadgets have been monitored— and so far, no one’s been flagged, so my guess is.. A higher up who’s sold us out.”

There you go.

“… I’ll look into it.” Your father mumbles. “Make sure that nothing is released into the media. The election is coming soon, we don’t want to do anything that’ll stir the public.”

“Understood.”

And the call ends just like that.

You blankly look at the road ahead of you, skin itching from the tightness and texture of your leather coat. Laid before your lap was a flat screen, in it were nine boxes— each playing a variety of scenes brought to you by the hidden cameras. Across every box, two swift figures maneuvered past the rooms with incredible ease. Several workers and scientists were sprawled across the jagged floors, motionless like corpses. You grimaced at the possibility of them being dead, but after seeing the thick gas emanating throughout every crevice of the building, you safely assumed that they were simply knocked out.

The Warehouse housed one of your father's investments; an Oscorp-Alchemax experiment funded by the elites, done underground and tested on prisoners to find some sort of super serum. When the new money folks thrusted themselves into the world of High society, most of the higher elites came to applaud the idea of one man.

Harry Osborn.

As a kid, you grew up aspiring to be like Harry. Always so friendly and approachable to anyone and everyone he’s ever met.

He did it so effortlessly that you recognized his niceness as a talent.

Harry came from second generation money— hailing this scientific empire called Oscorp. Having been brought up by his father, Norman, who was an industrialist, Harry was all things sciencey.

After his father's death, Harry sought out a blueprint of his father's past works, finding a journal containing the records of several hypotheses in regard to a variety of drugs. A sort of instruction to turn into a superhuman being, he claims, that his father had put into mind but never really practiced.

A handful of the higher-ups adored the impressionable idea, one of its primary investors being your father. You never really understood his reasons, but when the drug seemingly began showing fruitful results, your father set you up under Antonne's name to supervise Warehouse 317 after Harry entrusted your family to house the experiment.

So at that moment, you weren't you.

And Miles wasn't Miles.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. But he never bothered to really ask since his Uncle seemed tense all throughout the journey.

When Aaron told him to strap up for a sudden mission, he wasn't expecting a raid— nor was he expecting him to bring him to a hidden laboratory containing all these alien-like fuckeries. From glass beakers to drums filled to the brim with some sort of neon liquid, it all varied in levels of strangeness. Everywhere he looked, he could find the same circular, yellow warning sticker staring right back at him. Behind his digital mask, he skims past the unconscious workers— checking every crevice to see if anyone had escaped the incapacitating agent.

“According to the drive, the stuff are located in the north building.” His uncle’s voice snaps him out of the haze. “I’ll be heading there. I’m sure you can fend for yourself?”

“F’course I can,” Miles answered. “I can knock a bitch or two out with these.” He grinned while unfoldding his claw.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth? Watch yo tongue.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aaron pats his shoulder. “Record the evidence, I’ll go find the blueprints.”

With a single nod, Miles sets off with his mission in mind. When the holographic interface materializes from his wrist-mounted control panel, he activates the scanner with a light tap. The digitalized purple light cascades over the room, gathering physical data with each passing step.

He prided in his cut-edge tech— developed into great usage by his and his uncle’s hands. In a way, it reassured him that he had epically great potential, despite the current crisis going on in the city. But of course, his greatest pride was the fact that you liked the idea of the Prowler. That alone harbored him confidence he never knew he had.

Miles never initially thought of himself as a hero, no matter how much he’s worked to save the lower class of New York. Heroes existed in the confines of comic books and kids’ TV shows. He wasn’t super, and he wasn’t a hero either. The term was black and white. Narcissistic, as you would put it.

But he liked playing along to the idea of being a superhero to you.

He wanted you to gawk and admire his vigilante identity. He wanted you to look at the TV early in the morning with a mug of coffee in your hands, pointing at the screen with a squeal, ‘It’s the Prowler!’

Most of all, he wanted you to know about it eventually.

When he passes by the computers, Miles heads straight for the manila folders, unraveling his gauntlet just to grasp the files better.

[ 11 | 10 | 2020 ]

•[𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: #𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟸] 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟻𝟼

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

With the slightest jolt of his palm, the paper crumbles, and behind it sat another file. He peers through it diligently, only to find a name signed at the bottom.

And it crumples from the clamp of his fist.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

The surname, Primo-Chávez, was the household name of the family who owns the Primm Hotel, and a single mention of it alone only reignited the anger he was sparing for the upcoming plans. All of the rage he kept to himself was seeping out the cracks of his still-grieving heart, and the grief remained a permanent scar.

And with a whisper of the wind, the warehouse falls into darkness.

There was this chill crawling up his back, and it haunted him. And in the silence that surrounded him, he calls out for his uncle.

And it echoes, and echoes. No one replies. Only the silence answered to his desperate calls. At that point, all that he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating out of his chest— a sort of morbid reminder that he was still alive. It made him wonder if that was all his father heard when he was trapped beneath the fallen carcass all those years ago. Just like that carcass, in the midst of all that darkness, screams begin to bellow.

Oh. One of the scientists have woken up.

But all Miles could picture was all what could’ve happened that night, when everything fell apart. Did they scream like this? Call out for help like this? Did his father struggle to breathe like this?

A lone light shines above the metal rails— a watch window, large and square, gleaming in this daunt violent that flickered and flickered. There was a figure there, dark, willowy, and invasive in the way it stared.

Unmoving, watching. A gaze that lingered like the chill running down his back.

What did they do in here?

Like a croak, the question bubbles up his throat and releases.

“Who are you?”

Like a growl, the voice changer emits the query a too many tones lower. At that question, the being tilts its head.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Velvety, low, exhausted— and it oozed from the broadcaster mic like a tease. You stared at the Prowler, almost amused by his size. From above, he seemed much tinier, like less of a threat. You feel your breath cascade against the lenses of your gas mask, sweat sticking to the leather of your gloves. There, you see the digitalized magenta and the gleam of his steel claws, as though he meant to intimidate. You stood partially befuddled at the fact that the vigilante everyone revered and loathed was likely a teenager.

“… You don’t know what this place is, don’t you?”

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ.

The wall beside him crumbles into dust.

Miles shields himself from the impact, the cement’s fumes blinding his sights. Upon the activation of his night vision, he searches in behind the violet screen, finding only his uncle emerging from the smoke and debris, rushing with a USB in his hands. Behind him, a flock of guards came rushing in with their ray guns— flames of red bursting into a shower as the man signaled him to run.

Miles casts a quick glance at the window above.

No one’s there.

“ＥＶＡＣＵＡＴＥＡＬＬＥＭＰＬＯＹＥＥＳ

ＩＭＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ. ＩＭＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ.”

The digital voice commands along with a blaring alarm.

The warehouse that housed this elaborate labyrinth, it continued on and on like a maze. Bland green tiles and white walls, glass screens— like a pattern he immediately grew to dislike. It all went on and on like a fever dream, but Miles’ head was ringing with the sight of the man he saw up the window.

And he lays it all out in his mind, trying to piece it altogether.

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ．

The walls click and collapse, and the floors shake, but Miles doesn’t look back. The sound of the guards’ heavy stomps cease though, eventually replaced with a sort of screech that irked his ears.

It was unfamiliar to him. He’s faced over a hundred bad people, but only the sight of that being unsettled him more than the rest.

“Up ahead!”

He watches as his Uncle heads right out the window with a fall, the shards ricocheting behind him like specs of snow as he throws a carabiner right back at Miles to snatch. His fingers thinly reach for the cord when he’s suddenly assaulted to the ground with a powerful force.

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

“Agh!” He grumbles in pain, rolling down to the ground. But even then, it wasn’t the pain that made every hair on his limb stand, it was the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiles, and the sound of your metal blade scraping against the wall.

“Mornin’, Prowler.”

Exhaustion made the delivery deeper. He senses it in you, and you sense it him. Though he was unaware of what your head was actually filled of, I’ve got a lecture at nine, I still have to do my literature essay, and I want to sleep. Miles wasn’t all that interested at all in what your mind bore. To be fair, from where he was, Miles only saw this figure towering over him with a long knife poking out its sleeve. Some gas mask, and a black leather coat. Even then as you stood above him, he could only watch as you fixed your gloves, pulling farther beneath your sleeve.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

Fwip. With a crisp cut, the cord that connected him to his partner was severed. You throw it out the window along with the metal piece. “I’m not so usually cruel, but you’re trespassing my family’s property—“

“So this is your family’s property.” He stands back up, hands aching to fight. “Primo-Chávez. As I recognized.”

He claws at you, but instead, the metal meets the end of your unsheathed blade with a clink!

“You’re smart.” And when you pull away, he stumbles backward. “Let’s see if that’ll save you.”

Crack! The walls quivered as Miles narrowly avoided the blade aimed for his neck. He raises his gauntlets, lunging right at you with swift punches, to which you countered gracefully with quick blocks. Eventually, he manages to take hold of your shoulders, shoving you back with feet tangled like knots. You lower down and hook your heel over his ankle, pulling with force as he falters.

You crack your neck, pressing your heel over his shoulder to keep him down. “I’ll be honest with you, I think you’re awfully underwhelming.” You lean down to his level, musing yourself in the way he heaved.

“But I can forgive all that.” Your fingers fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “You’re useful in a way—“

With a gauntlet over your neck, he slams you against the wall.

“I ain’t working for nobody,” He churned. “And I definitely won’t be fucking working for people like you.”

“I never said you had to work for me.” You calmly replied despite his grip. “You just have to make better decisions from now on.”

“Fuck you mean by that?”

From the ache your neck bore, you knew it was gonna leave a bruise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

He furrows his brows at that statement, holding himself back as he taunts. “… I wonder how your father is going to abandon you once I set this little investment of his on fire.”

Rather than the silence or panic he hoped, Miles heard you laugh.

“Do it.” You playfully suggest. “Do it, and kill all the other interns, employees, and guards in here.” Despite your façade, he could still sense the smirk creeping up your lips. “Then think to yourself, ask yourself; are you any better than my family?”

That alone catches him by surprise.

“… You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you m—“ Before he could even finish off his sentence, a powerful strike ricochets into his stomach, sending him off to the other wall. A loud grunt emanates from his lips, hands gripping the lower of his belly as you set your foot down. “The next time we meet, do promise me that you’ll be much more of a promising opponent. Today was.. Eventless.” Your gaze sets sights on the camera hidden in the corner.

“For now, I’ll have to let someone else do the job.”

As though on cue, you see his partner rush in with the broken cord in his hand. The same broken cord you’d thrown out. Without another word, he lunges at you with lightning speed, and the way you collide with the glass wall sends ripples across the corridor.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Long time no see.”

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

And from then on, Miles watches as this figure and his uncle battled amidst the labyrinth. But your words struck him hard, ‘Long time no see’— what did that mean? Did his uncle have a sort of connection to the elites, or has he worked for the upper class before?

With how his punches flew, Miles sensed this sort of undying rage that crackled with the quiver of his Uncle’s fist.

Why did this battle seem so natural? Like the two of them know each other’s moves too well.

“I see you’ve resigned.” You curtly brought up, grunting as he mercilessly charges at you. “And seems like you’ve brought a little something with you.” Upon the mention of Miles, Aaron struck back with a blow, feigning ignorance at your words. Despite your state, you managed to put up a great fight. “Why did you bring him here? He doesn’t seem fit for the job—“

“Stop the small talk, Antonne.”

Antonne.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

“I’m simply being polite,” You grinned. “It’s been a while, don’t you think so too?”

With that alone, Miles somehow confirmed that the figure was the heir of the hotel in the flesh. The man responsible for the deaths of many— the man responsible for the death of his father. But something felt wrong, like a sense that was gnawing at his guts.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Just of now, Miles realizes that he had no place here, at least, not yet. But he was just as confused as the other guy, why did his uncle bring him here if it was too dangerous?

“Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?”

Sister?

“She’s a little more pacifist than all of us.”

You lie so naturally, it was like second-nature to you— as though it was your second, utterly ridiculous hobby next to scheming. To play the part of Antonne was excruciating enough, but it was enjoyable in a way. You haven’t seen the Prowler for about four years— last seeing him when you were twelve, when he worked for the Fisks until his abrupt resignation. Next thing you and the elite knew, the mercenary who once worked for the high-class was now a vigilante working against them.

No one particularly knew the reason why. You somewhat guessed what it was.

And when the both of you crashed past the danger zone, you knew that the situation was way beyond your grasps from this point on, and the best you could hope for was a perfect gamble.

The man grabs all that he could in his anger, from glass beakers to steel rods, he figures splashing you with whatever thing he could find can help in making you perish from his sights.

You fight back, without the usage of anything else except the blade, only until Aaron repeatedly smashes your head inside a closed-off frozen cage. The two of you fall right in, breaking some sort of container in the process.

“What the fuck?”

Like a flame, it sears your skin— causing you to panic and recklessly pat away at the tar-like substance enveloping you in its sticky embrace. Without even a shriek, it consumes your system entirely, sending you down on your knees.

And the next thing you know, everything else fades into black.

Aaron pulls away, in shock of the dark matter unveiling before him. Immediately, he places a hand over Miles’ eyes, ushering him away.

From afar, they could hear the police sirens coming.

“Let’s— let’s go.” Aaron hurriedly commands.

“Uncle Aaron.”

Miles exhaustively calls out to him.

“Uncle Aaron!”

As his mask unfolds, Miles squints as the sunlight seeping from the tall trees welcomes him, shielding his face with his hands while trudging across the stones to meet his Uncle’s steps. Aaron pauses for a moment, taking only one look back.

“Why’d you bring me there?” Miles directly starts. “I wasn’t strong enough to be there— who was that guy? How- How did you suddenly know about the location of the warehouse, how did— I don’t— I-I have school in three hours, I don’t get why you had to bring me along—“

“That girl you’re seeing,” Aaron intervenes without a waste of breath. “What’s her last name?”

Miles takes a step back, furrowing his brows.

“[L/n].”

Aaron nods. “… It’s the same as the file.”

“What?”

“Bring her to dinner.”

Now everything further confused him, what did you have to do with all of this?

“I-I can’t bring her to dinner yet— what do you mean part of the f— we haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

The date set for tomorrow. The trick-or-treating date Miles had always longed for. Aaron tosses his hand upward. “Just make it quick and let me meet her.” He commands in a rush, pacing his steps faster. “We’ve got to get moving before they find us.”

“But— I don’t get it. What does [Y/n] have to do with all of this?"

Aaron stops for a moment, looking up before heaving a long, jagged sigh.

“… I got a file last night. Sent by an anonymous number. Someone managed to take a picture of you and your girl earlier when you were walking her home.”

Hearing this, a bundle of worries begin to churn in Miles’ mind. This whole night enough was messy for him, and he couldn’t understand why things were getting so complicated. Like what Antonne said earlier, it was ingrained into his mind, Aren’t you supposed to be smart?

“Along with the pictures, I got sent a file. [Y/n] [L/n], is..” Aaron consequently looks into his nephew’s eyes, a sort of hesitation imbued in his system. “Somewhat connected to the Primos.”

Miles halts entirely, and over and over, like how he’s always asked for the last hour. “What?”

“I.. I’ll just tell you when we get home.”

It was many years ago, when your mother endowed this habit of sitting you down by her vanity just to comb your hair and fix you up like a doll.

At that time, you were a tiny little girl with tiny little legs that were unable to reach the floor, instead opting to dangle them with light kicks from your seat— thinking you were some kind of mermaid. During those times, you could only spot at least the whole of your head staring right back at you, but rather than yourself, you marveled at the sight of your mother and her clothes.

The colors she wore were patterned in dates. Mauve, pink, white, and sometimes vermilion in special occasions. Those were the days she used to pick out your clothes for you, and whenever you complained about the color being too bright or dull, your mother would claim that she'd know your colors the best.

As you got older, and when you started dressing for yourself, in the colors you liked, and in the sort of mauve and pink that suited you, you watched as your mother would stare at you from afar with an irate frown, and silently, you'd think to yourself.

Even in the way I rebel against you, you still see yourself in me, because when you look at me, you see only a mirror of your younger self grimacing in disgust. You'd come so far to convince yourself that you're at the height of your being, but your daughter and your child-self only sees mediocrity.

…

“Miss?”

A flurry of people. Lots of talking. You despised that.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“[Y/n], wake up this instant!”

And at your father’s instruction, your eyes peel open almost immediately. You’re greeted with the sight of the ceiling, and your skin covered in warmth. You look at yourself, finding bruises all over your arms, still wearing your white dress shirt and formal pants. Silently, you force yourself to sit up despite the ache you felt, wincing as you spot several faces surrounding you. There was your father, pacing back and forth, certainly distressed about something; Antonne, with his arms crossed, sitting by the edge of your bed; some physician, silently standing by the side with her hands clasped together; and Harry Osborn standing alongside her.

“What’s going on in here?” You haphazardly asked.

“You almost died.” Antonne stirs the silence. “The Warehouse was set on fire, and you were still inside.”

“The warehouse was set on fire!?” You jolt up, only now realizing the dirty looks from your father. “That’s impossible, how could—“

“There were traces of gasoline.” Emerging from the doors, your father approaches you with a sort of chagrin in his glare. “Since you failed to capture or at least slow down the perpetrators, that happened.”

“… You’re placing the blame on me?” You ask, hardly believing your ears.

“We’re not—“ Just as Harry’s about to speak, your father intervenes. “Yes, we are. Because of your incompetence, we lost millions worth of money in damages!”

“Sir, calm down.”

“Father, this is what I’ve been telling you about.” Antonne pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s sixteen! How could she have possibly fought against a mercenary!?”

“I did better than you.” Poison spewed from your lips, losing all sort of rationality. “This has never happened before. Whenever there was something any of you asked me to do, I did my very best. How could I possibly perform my best when I lacked sleep and I was dependent on coffee!?”

“Your brother is right.”

Hearing that alone was a nightmare.

“Although you’re talented in upkeep and information, you’re too young to fight against an ex-assassin.”

You helplessly scramble off the bed. “Daddy, you’re being unfair.”

Daddy. It’s like you were a ten-year-old fighting for his attention once again. You looked at Antonne, and then your father, shifting in complacency. “I worked for three years, ceaselessly. Even if it meant giving up my weekends and studying so hard that it made my nose bleed. I got the job done, even if no one paid me or thanked me, I still did everything.”

“We’ve lost a lot of resources,” Harry begins. “And we’ve been brought back to square one because of the fire.”

Before Harry could even finish off his explanation, you lift a finger and point at him accusingly. “This is because one of your people decided to leak information—“ In between your rant, Antonne attempts to soothe you. “Had it not been for the fact that you decided to let untrusted people into the faction, we wouldn— stop it, Antonne— we wouldn’t be dealing with this sort of thing. Mother warned you about it, and you brushed off her every warning— STOP IT, ANTONNE!” You finally yelled out. Your brother ceases, lifting his hands off of you after he sees that you’re shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I being more emotional than usual?

The way the rage consumed you left you in dismay. At a short moment of epiphany, you run your hands across your face and, like a switch, all of your emotions reboot.

“I apologize. I spoke out of line.”

That line alone was chilling.

“I’m sorry, [Y/n].” The tender way Harry called out your name was unfathomable. “I know it’s upsetting that your job is being taken away from you, and you have every right to get upset. However, for your sake and your health, you can pass on these responsibilities to Montrell for now.”

“Montrell’s in London.” You add. “He can’t possibly take over—“

“He’s not in London.” Antonne confesses. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

“… It was going to be a surprise but..”

Oh no.

“Oh,” You blankly state, your mind rioting. “I see.”

“It’s an unplanned decision, really,” Your father explains. “Montrell also has no idea that you’ve taken Antonne’s place in taking care of the hotel for the last three years. It’d be better for you, as well, to take a break.”

You wanted to scream, break down, curse at everyone.

“I’m sorry for being too harsh on you, [Y/n].” Harry eases, placing a hand over your shoulder. “However, you have to understand that it’s also for the best.”

“I understand.” Fuck you, and fuck all of you.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now.” Yeah, leave me the fuck alone before I melt the fuck down.

As they step out, all the tension in the room leave along with the squeak of their fine, leather dress shoes. You’re left with the silent physician, whose presence you’d completely forgotten despite the wildness of her dark curls. She shifts uncomfortably, parting her lips to speak, only to find that she didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You ask, lowering your voice so as to not intimidate. Prompting to break the silence in her place.

The woman blinks at you, somewhat relieved by your words.

“Can I be direct, Miss?” She sternly asks.

“It’ll be better off that way, frankly.”

She leans a little closer, tugging on the sleeve of your arm. “When you first got here, your body was riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones around— oh, can I touch you?”

You squirm. “I’m not a relic.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Most of the rich people I’ve worked with were usually snobby douches who think their skin shed gold.” She subtly laughs, raising the fabric up higher. “Initially, I believed you were exactly that kind of rich kid, but after seeing what happened, you don’t seem like anything they say.”

You raise a brow. “.. Have we met each other before?”

She looked at you as though you’d just insulted her, her eyes about to pop off her thick-rimmed glasses.

“.. I work at Alchemax. I’m the head of the research team in the particle accelerator project— we’ve spoken many, many times before.”

“.. You’re not my physician?”

Her lips tighten into a line. “I take what I said back. You’re exactly like all those other rich kids.”

“W-well, I’m sorry.” You grumbled. “I work with a hundred different people almost every single day, my mind usually shuts down when I’m at work.”

“Well, your father did just drag me out of the line and forced me to fix you up since they didn’t want to risk calling for a doctor who doesn’t know that you’re parading as your brother.” She spoke so quickly, it made you rethink what she just said three times. “Anyways— I needed to tell you that under my observations, you’ve healed yourself in a supernaturally fast rate that it’s groundbreaking.”

“What?”

“Six hours ago, you had broken bones in here,” She points her fingers at your shoulder. “Here,” Followed by your thigh. “And here.” Then your calf. “But after seeing your little drama session with your father, you were able to move yourself without any sort of pain. Initially, I concluded that you must’ve had some very high pain tolerance, but I noticed that so many of your cuts and bruises have all been healed, and that,” Her fingers trace a line over your neck. “That was red as hell just moments ago. Now, it’s gone.”

Oh, the mark you got from Prowler Jr after he choked the hell out of you.

You liked calling him that. Prowler Jr— a smaller, rustier protégée of the Prowler you grew up with.

“.. I wonder why so.”

There was a wily grin on her face that unsettled you tremendously.

“Well, without your father looking, I ran a test on you.”

“You what?”

Without even a single second to lose, the woman takes out few samples from her bag, laying them all out before you with a couple of handwritten documents.

“Here.” She states so proudly.

You marveled at all that she’s written— unfortunately for you, her handwriting was so messily done that you couldn’t understand a single damn thing.

“… You could get sued for this, you know that?”

“Your father wouldn’t. Unlike his children, he can’t find a replacement for me.”

Your mouth hung in disbelief at what you just heard. Rather than acknowledging the insult, however, she plucks out a print of what you assumed were tiny splotches of black tar on a petri dish.

“What the hell is that?”

“I got that swabbed out of your mouth.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I’d dieted enough for the performance!”

“It’s not sweets, sweetheart.” She answered defeatedly, clearly full of your unsure-weaponized-incompetence. “It’s a mysterious symbiote that we’ve recently caught hold of four months ago, and during your fight with the Prowler, it forged itself into your system.” Her fingers trace down your arm, grasping the center of your wrist while grinning. “And it can make you do this.”

As she squeezes your hand, a black matter ejects from your palm. You jolt away, slapping her hand off as you curse.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?”

“The symbiote.” She casually replies. “Isn’t it amazing?”

It retreats like a slimey being, pushing itself back into your skin as though it’d all been a mere hallucination.

“You mean to tell me there’s some alien slime living inside my body!?”

“Well, yes—“

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

She winces at the loudness of your voice, moving back an inch away. “That’ll take a while for me to dissect. You have to come to my lab tomorrow if you want me to find a way to pull that away from you.”

“I can’t go tomorrow.” You had a date with Miles, and that alone was reasonable enough to miss anything and everything else. “I-I have practice for the fundraiser on Sunday, and I’m still the hostess, so I have to make sure that the preparations are seamless.”

“… I have a comment, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it since you probably hear it all the time.”

“What? That I’m just like my mother?”

She scrunches her nose. “I was going to say that you’re too young to be acting so old.” The woman turns away, beginning to pack up her things again. “You’re sixteen. You should be going out to parties, creating fake IDs, sneaking out to make out with your boyfriend— whatever other shit girls your age like to do.”

You try your hardest not to react at the last mention, since that was definitely what you just did a few hours before. You begin to rub your hands, the friction warming you up as your shoulders shrug.

“Well, as much as I want to do all that, I’ve got too much to do.”

“You won’t be sixteen forever, Miss.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder. “Take that from me. I’m forty-six, and I’ve went through a lot. I’d give everything to be your age again.”

As you watch her head for the door, you call out to her one last time.

“.. Call me [Y/n]. I don’t like it when people way older than me call me ‘miss’.”

She raised her brows. “Alright then, [Y/n].” Your name rolls off her tongue gently.

“How about you? What do I call you?”

With a hand over the knob, the woman beamed.

“.. I’m Olivia Octavius, but you can call me Liv.”

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