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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 days ago

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“The Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets”

This week only, Barnes and Noble is offering 25% off pre-orders of my forthcoming novel Picks and Shovels. ENDS TODAY!.

While we truly live in an age of ascendant monsters who have hijacked our country, our economy, and our imaginations, there is one consolation: the small cohort of brilliant, driven writers who have these monsters' number, and will share it with us. Writers like Maureen Tkacik:

https://prospect.org/topics/maureen-tkacik/

Journalists like Wired's Vittoria Elliott, Leah Feiger, and Tim Marchman are absolutely crushing it when it comes to Musk's DOGE coup:

https://www.wired.com/author/vittoria-elliott/

And Nathan Tankus is doing incredible work all on his own, just blasting out scoop after scoop:

https://www.crisesnotes.com/

But for me, it was Tkacik – as usual – in the pages of The American Prospect who pulled it all together in a way that finally made it make sense, transforming the blitzkreig Muskian chaos into a recognizable playbook. While most of the coverage of Musk's wrecking crew has focused on the broccoli-haired Gen Z brownshirts who are wilding through the server rooms at giant, critical government agencies, Tkacik homes in on their boss, Tom Krause, whom she memorably dubs "the Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" (I told you she was a great writer!):

https://prospect.org/power/2025-02-06-private-equity-hatchet-man-leading-lost-boys-of-doge/

Krause is a private equity looter. He's the guy who basically invented the playbook for PE takeovers of large tech companies, from Broadcom to Citrix to VMWare, converting their businesses from selling things to renting them out, loading them up with junk fees, slashing quality, jacking up prices over and over, and firing everyone who was good at their jobs. He is a master enshittifier, an enshittification ninja.

Krause has an unerring instinct for making people miserable while making money. He oversaw the merger of Citrix and VMWare, creating a ghastly company called The Cloud Software Group, which sold remote working tools. Despite this, of his first official acts was to order all of his employees to stop working remotely. But then, after forcing his workers to drag their butts into work, move back across the country, etc, he reversed himself because he figured out he could sell off all of the company's office space for a tidy profit.

Krause canceled employee benefits, like thank you days for managers who pulled a lot of unpaid overtime, or bonuses for workers who upgraded their credentials. He also ended the company's practice of handing out swag as small gifts to workers, and then stiffed the company that made the swag, wontpaying a $437,574.97 invoice for all the tchotchkes the company had ordered. That's not the only supplier Krause stiffed: FinLync, a fintech company with a three-year contract with Krause's company, also had to sue to get paid.

Krause's isn't a canny operator who roots out waste: he's a guy who tears out all the wiring and then grudgingly restores the minimum needed to keep the machine running (no wonder Musk loves him, this is the Twitter playbook). As Tkacik reports, Krause fucked up the customer service and reliability systems that served Citrix's extremely large, corporate customers – the giant businesses that cut huge monthly checks to Citrix, whose CIOs received daily sales calls from his competitors.

Workers who serviced these customers, like disabled Air Force veteran David Morgan, who worked with big public agencies, were fired on one hour's notice, just before their stock options vested. The giant public agency customers he'd serviced later called him to complain that the only people they could get on the phone were subcontractors in Indian call centers who lacked the knowledge and authority to resolve their problems.

Last month, Citrix fired all of its customer support engineers. Citrix's military customers are being illegally routed to offshore customer support teams who are prohibited from working with the US military.

Citrix/VMWare isn't an exception. The carnage at these companies is indistinguishable from the wreck Krause made of Broadcom. In all these cases, Krause was parachuted in by private equity bosses, and he destroyed something useful to extract a giant, one-time profit, leaving behind a husk that no longer provides value to its customers or its employees.

This is the DOGE playbook. It's all about plunder: take something that was patiently, carefully built up over generations and burn it to the ground, warming yourself in the pyre, leaving nothing behind but ash. This is what private equity plunderers have been doing to the world's "advanced" economies since the Reagan years. They did it to airlines, family restaurants, funeral homes, dog groomers, toy stores, pharma, palliative care, dialysis, hospital beds, groceries, cars, and the internet.

Trump's a plunderer. He was elected by the plunderer class – like the crypto bros who want to run wild, transforming workers' carefully shepherded retirement savings into useless shitcoins, while the crypto bros run off with their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money. Musk is the apotheosis of this mindset, a guy who claims credit for other peoples' productive and useful businesses, replacing real engineering with financial engineering. Musk and Krause, they're like two peas in a pod.

That's why – according to anonymous DOGE employees cited by Tckacik – DOGE managers are hired for their capacity for cruelty: "The criteria for DOGE is how many you have fired, how much you enjoy firing people, and how little you care about the impact on peoples well being…No wonder Tom Krause was tapped for this. He’s their dream employee!"

The fact that Krause isn't well known outside of plunderer circles is absolutely a feature for him, not a bug. Scammers like Krause want to be admitted to polite society. This is why the Sacklers – the opioid crime family that kicked off the Oxy pandemic that's murdered more than 800,000 Americans so far – were so aggressive about keeping their association with their family business, Purdue Pharma, a secret. The Sacklers only wanted to be associated with the art galleries and museums they put their names over, and their lawyers threatened journalists for writing about their lives as billionaire drug pushers (I got one of those threats).

There's plenty of good reasons to be anonymous – if you're a whistleblower, say. But if you ever encounter a corporate executive who insists on anonymity, that's a wild danger sign. Take Pixsy, the scam "copyleft trolls" whose business depends on baiting people into making small errors when using images licensed under very early versions of the Creative Common licenses, and then threatening to sue them unless they pay hundreds or thousands of dollars:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

Kain Jones, the CEO of Pixsy, tried to threaten me under the EU's GDPR for revealing the names of the scammer on his payroll who sent me a legal threat, and the executive who ran the scam for his business (I say he tried to threaten me because I helped lobby for the GDPR and I know for a fact that this isn't a GDPR violation):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/

These people understand that they are in the business of ripping people off, causing them grave and wholly unjust financial injury. They value their secrecy because they are in the business of making strangers righteously furious, and they understand that one of these strangers might just show up in their lives someday to confront them about their transgressions.

This is why Unitedhealthcare freaked out so hard about Luigi Mangione's assassination of CEO Brian Thompson – that's not how the game is supposed to be played. The people who sit in on executive row, destroying your lives, are supposed to be wholly insulated from the consequences of their actions. You're not supposed to know who they are, you're not supposed to be able to find them – of course.

But even more importantly, you're not supposed to be angry at them. They pose as mere software agents in an immortal colony organism called a Limited Liability Corporation, bound by the iron law of shareholder supremacy to destroy your life while getting very, very rich. It's not supposed to be personal. That's why Unitedhealthcare is threatening to sue a doctor who was yanked out of surgery on a cancer patient to be berated by a UHC rep for ordering a hospital stay for her patient:

https://gizmodo.com/unitedhealthcare-is-mad-about-in-luigi-we-trust-comments-under-a-doctors-viral-post-2000560543

UHC is angry that this surgeon, Austin's Dr Elisabeth Potter, went Tiktok-viral with her true story of how how chaotic and depraved and uncaring UHC is. UHC execs fear that Mangione made it personal, that he obliterated the accountability sink of the corporation and put the blame squarely where it belongs – on the (mostly) men at the top who make this call.

This is a point Adam Conover made in his latest Factually podcast, where he interviewed Propublica's T Christian Miller and Patrick Rucker:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_5tDXRw8kg

Miller and Rucker published a blockbuster investigative report into Cigna's Evocore, a secret company that offers claims-denials as a service to America's biggest health insurers:

https://www.propublica.org/article/evicore-health-insurance-denials-cigna-unitedhealthcare-aetna-prior-authorizations

If you're the CEO of a health insurance company and you don't like how much you're paying out for MRIs or cancer treatment, you tell Evocore (which processes all your claim authorizations) and they turn a virtual dial that starts to reduce the number of MRIs your customers are allowed to have. This dial increases the likelihood that a claim or pre-authorization will be denied, which, in turn, makes doctors less willing to order them (even if they're medically necessary) and makes patients more likely to pay for them out of pocket.

Towards the end of the conversation, Miller and Rucker talk about how the rank-and-file people at an insurer don't get involved with the industry to murder people in order to enrich their shareholders. They genuinely want to help people. But executive row is different: those very wealthy people do believe their job is to kill people to save money, and get richer. Those people are personally to blame for the systemic problem. They are the ones who design and operate the system.

That's why naming the people who are personally responsible for these immoral, vicious acts is so important. That's why it's important that Wired and Propublica are unmasking the "pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" who are raiding the federal government under Krause's leadership:

https://projects.propublica.org/elon-musk-doge-tracker/

These people are committing grave crimes against the nation and its people. They should be known for this. It should follow them for the rest of their lives. It should be the lead in their obituaries. People who are introduced to them at parties should have a flash of recognition, hastily end the handshake, then turn on their heels and race to the bathroom to scrub their hands. For the rest of their lives.

Naming these people isn't enough to stop the plunder, but it helps. Yesterday, Marko Elez, the 25 year old avowed "eugenicist" who wanted to "normalize Indian hate" and could not be "[paid] to marry outside of my ethnicity," was shown the door. He's off the job. For the rest of his life, he will be the broccoli-haired brownshirt who got fired for his asinine, racist shitposting:

https://www.npr.org/2025/02/06/nx-s1-5289337/elon-musk-doge-treasury

After Krause's identity as the chief wrecker at DOGE was revealed, the brilliant Anna Merlan (author of Republic of Lies, the best book on conspiratorialism), wrote that "Now the whole country gets the experience of what it’s like when private equity buys the place you work":

https://bsky.app/profile/annamerlan.bsky.social/post/3lhepjkudcs2t

That's exactly it. We are witnessing a private equity-style plunder of the entire US government – of the USA itself. No one is better poised to write about this than Tkacik, because no one has private equity's number like Tkacik does:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

Ironically, all this came down just as Trump announced that he was going to finally get rid of private equity's scammiest trick, the "carried interest" loophole that lets PE bosses (and, to a lesser extent, hedge fund managers) avoid billions in personal taxes:

https://archive.is/yKhvD

"Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest rate – it's a law that was designed for 16th century sea captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Trump campaigned on killing this loophole in 2017, but Congress stopped him, after a lobbying blitz by the looter industry. It's possible that he genuinely wants to get rid of the carried interest loophole – he's nothing if not idiosyncratic, as the residents of Greenland can attest:

https://prospect.org/world/2025-02-07-letter-between-friendly-nations/

Even if he succeeds, looters and the "investor class" will get a huge giveaway under Trump, in the form of more tax giveaways and the dismantling of labor and environmental regulation. But it's far more likely that he won't succeed. Rather – as Yves Smith writes for Naked Capitalism – he'll do what he did with the Canada and Mexico tariffs: make a tiny, unimportant change and then lie and say he had done something revolutionary:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/02/is-trump-serious-about-trying-to-close-the-private-equity-carried-interest-loophole.html

This has been a shitty month, and it's not gonna get better for a while. On my dark days, I worry that it won't get better during my lifetime. But at least we have people like Tkacik to chronicle it, explain it, put it in context. She's amazing, a whirlwind. The same day that her report on Krause dropped, the Prospect published another must-read piece by her, digging deep into Alex Jones's convoluted bankruptcy gambit:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-02-06-crisis-actors-alex-jones-bankruptcy/

It lays bare the wild world of elite bankruptcy court, another critical conduit for protecting the immoral rich from their victims. The fact that Tkacik can explain both Krause and the elite bankruptcy system on the same day is beyond impressive.

We've got a lot of work ahead of ourselves. The people in charge of this system – whose names you must learn and never forget – aren't going to go easily. But at least we know who they are. We know what they're doing. We know how the scam works. It's not a flurry of incomprehensible actions – it's a playbook that killed Red Lobster, Toys R Us, and Sears. We don't have to follow that playbook.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/07/broccoli-hair-brownshirts/#shameless

#pluralistic #Maureen Tkacik #the american prospect #corporate sociopaths #pixsy #luigi mangione #propublica #doge #coup #elon musk #guillotine watch #adam conover #private equity #citrix #tom krause #looters #marko elez

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quesocheeso · 1 day ago

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Hi! I’ve seen you answering and kinda info dumping about pregnancies in your Au and how they work, and I was wondering how they work biologically.

I’m always so interested by world building and new ideas, and as me myself is creating a pregnant Au, I’m really curious about the process. Would you be willing to explain more in-depth? (Sorry if this is a weird ask :3)

I mean there ain’t really much to it y’know

…when two people love each other very much they— *gets dragged away*

Okay but yeah the process is basically a normal pregnancy, people bombayayah and if they don’t use protection- *boom* a baby is created,, but that’s the normal stuff, so looking at it through the magical lens…

High magical procreation/birth/pregnancies are RARE, and it’s not because the higher the magical ability the lower the fertility, its actually the opposite (kinda), it’s rare because of the mortality rate for the birther and the baby so a lot of beings don't go through with it unless they know their partner could feesibly handle it.

So fertility wise, a lot of times I see how the more powerful the being the lower their fertility but let's put it here as the opposite, that along with the low rates of births, you wind up with strong beings who need to be calculated in who they partner up if all they want is a heir.

This is where arranged/political marriages come in, however the risk is higher to the partner who would be the birther so they have to be given a higher political status and benefits to their families to equal out the risks they'll have in the marriage.

(This also means that people who have already gone through a high magical pregnancy and survived are much more sought out for and receive courtship letters after a certain period of time after the birth even if they are still married....which means Macaque gets real popular after Xiaotian is born lmao)

For couples who are not looking to have children due to the risk but still want to be intimate, there have been spells/sigils passed down in families to prevent pregnancies from happening,,, which becomes real funny when you realize no one in FFM would be privy to this kind of info so Wukong has to suck up his pride and ask DBK for his family's spell lmaooooo brother gets laughed at before he gets sat down and given a detailed presentation over the sigil,,, the couple just has to make sure to always cast it or else they'll be getting a lil surprise lol

The whole process is calculated and thought out for powerful beings, it's a gamble not many are willing to take and seeing as a lot of them are immortal many don't see the need for children

Also going back to my previous point:

This is how Macaque looked when he reintroduced himself to the court after his magic deficiency was finally gone from Xiaotians birth

Tell me who wouldn't want to write courting letters for this beautiful mf

#lmk #sunset!au #ttm!au #time traveling monkey au #shadowpeach #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #i keep yapping but talking about worldbuilding is so fun #cant stop me now~#i think at this point people figure Xiaotian was a surprise lmaooo #also #i love the idea of Wukong being pursued from all sides by everyone at the beginning of their marriage #but after Xiaotian is born its Macaques turn to be pursued lmaoo #hes like i got no time for these fools im raising my baby rn😤💅#meanwhile wukong is running around getting rid of everyone sending courtship letters

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guzmawife · 10 hours ago

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🍓: he had no job when i met him but now he works at a high school as an errand boy / security (his children attend said school). hes the guy they call in when a real teacher needs to use the bathroom so he can watch the class. or to retrieve some papers from the printer. go get me that thing boy.

🍒: probably just chilling at home with snacks and movies and fast food. or chillen at the beach. 🏝️

🍎: tapu cocoa.. we all know dis.. hot sweet drinks…

🍉: hes not religious other than believing that a higher power exists. hi arceus..

🍑: totally more comfortable giving gifts. hes used to taking care of others so it’s pretty natural for him to be giving. he has no issue receiving but its not rlly a priority since he didnt come from much so hes used to not rlly asking for much.

🍊: i make him peel it. he knows my paws and claws have to stay clean… he’s comfortable with getting dirty and i am not!

🥭: no i domt think so. his dad was a prick and said shit like. Youre not a woman so you dont need those. fuckkkk that guy.

🍍: probably him being mentally manipulated and abused! 😿 killing all the people that taught him he wasn’t anything and made him feel like he had to act out in order to prove himself to others. hhhggffg. he deserves to be loved.

🍌: he likes to be in the dark. das it. no specific reason why.

🍋: he would probably change his hothead nature bc he doesn’t like how quickly he gets upset and makes bad decisions. and his hairline.

🍋‍🟩: he tells people if you squish bugs more will keep showing up. as a joke. heehe. sorry im gonna squish them still im a pussy.. thats probably why they keep showing up though. i have an actual curse. maybe he’s right man…

🍈: he thinks fate is bogus and if you want something to happen you have to make it happen.

🍏: hes bisexual and questioning demisexuality, he learned of his bisexuality through being in denial of liking the same sex and being like. This is ruining my tough guy personality. This can’t be. but then it kept happening and he was like man fuck this whatever. what the hell sure. he became normal. he’s still figuring out the demisexuality, to put it simply he just doesnt want to engage in sexual acts with anyone unless he has a genuine connection to them. it also just feels better for him. sorry for airing out your business Anywayyyyyy. Anyway.

🍐: he’s a nail biter its kinda gross sorry man. his nails are short always so i make him do short nail tasks since my nails are usually pretty long. i think he bounces his legs sometimes too. he knows i hate that shit thou so he tries not to. usually i just leave so he can shake all he wants. then hes like what wait no….

🥝: he would totally let me do his makeup. we’re both pretty lazy when it comes to makeup so we don’t so anything complex. i just do mascara and corner highlights and SOMETIMES lipstick and that’s it. #autistic i cant stand having too much shit ok my face. this isn’t even about me brah. he does simple makeup too since he’s just not super experienced. he just tries things sometimes but he’s not a professional. he just wants to look cool.

🫒: he’s a big hugger he squeezes too tight but it feels good though…. (´ ω `♡) he likes to be hugged too! yey!

🫐: definitely more of an artist he actually keeps a sketchbook. right brained yeah.

🍇: if we never met i think he might still be getting himself into some trouble tbh. he’s pretty stubborn.

🥥: he draws he plays games. he works out. he cooks. i think he would want to get into gardening but his location doesn’t allow for it since it’s always fucking raining.

🍅: i think he would get me testosterone or something that i can’t possibly get safely right now. or like. my own living space. or some rare pokemon card / plush that costs more than an organ online. sigh. or probably 1 billion dollars. muhehw.

🌶️: he drinks ginger ale. ginger ale the ultra cure.

🫚: hes not picky. he cant eat beans bc hes allergic to them. but i dont think hes picky since he has to make sure his kids eat first. so he eats whatevers left from them. leftover amalgamation.

🥕: he didnt like them but he ate them anyway bc his parents were mean :(

🧅: he cries when hes angry like super fuming. and when hes thinking about his past. hes just mad at himself for what happened and how he handled things. Basically. getting manipulated and taken advantage of makes him upset and he cries. he doesnt cry at movies unless he relates to them.

🌽: does bugs counts as animal. He likes dogs. and isopods. and other sea creatures.

🥦: pet peeves are getting called ‘boy’ or ‘kid’. i used to call him boy all the time just by habit and he would Not like that. “I’m not a boy. I’m a man. stop callin me dat…” okaaayyy whatevar. he doesnt have an issue with me calling him dude tho. despite being his lover. which is a little funny. um what else. people not knocking before entering. leaving empty cartons and stuff in the fridge or cabinet. ppl telling him he looks tired. or people calling him old. not that he has an issue with old people (😽) but its like. How did you even reach that conclusion.

🥒: hes afraid of ultra beasts a little.. specifically uh whats its name. nihilego. that bird that i hate. middle finger emoji. hes like. a little more hesitant with UBs than regular mons. he’s also got a fear of getting lost.

🥬: beige flags auumm i hate his ugly fucking sunglasses. and when he says. ya boy (pinches the space between my brows). peeing with the door open. he does that thing where u can feel him looking at you waiting to turn around during the movie so he can kiss you. theres probably more. im very good at complaining.

🫛: he loves to think of new pet names for me to see how i will react. he’d be like. “goodnight honeypie” and id be like “oh…. yeah… 😽” he also likes them too but most of the time i just call him musham or guzma bc i like saying his name. then he’s like. Why dont you call me anything else…. (sad puppy eyes). he likes when i call him mumu or honey. i calll him princess sometimes but its rare. princess is like his top pet name for me. meeooww. sometimes i call him Boss. thats For when. Im teasing Him. That one Makes his Ears turn Red. For special Occasions. meow.

🫑: he’s had a number of near death experiences so he’s pretty afraid of death. he has no lofty life goals. he just wants his family safe. wants to travel too and have good genuine relationships.

🥑: not super niche but cosmetics and nail art. he also likes cooking and insects and drawing. just things he grew to like from being around his family. or trying to distract himself from his own issues.

🍠: he likes to go to the beach and sit listening to the waves (same). he also likes to paint his or others nails when he’s bored. “gimme yer hands i wanna try sumn”. yknow.

🍆: favorite scent is meeeeeee… i kid i kid. probably like. Ugh. baked goods. Sugar smell. Rain smell 👎🏾 i hate rain smell but he likes it. i don’t think he has any specific least favorite smells other than the usual like peepee and caca yknow.

🧄: allergic to beans

🥔: he makes japanese curry a lot. easy to make in large portions for his 75million children. i like rice so he usually makes rice dishes for me. i don’t cook very often but when i do its cultural foods since he doesn’t know those recipes. he likes those. yom. he wants to learn baking but just hasn’t had the chance or motivation.

🍄‍🟫: i think he would wanna be a mewtwo or something. super strong and cool nonchalant. if we’re talking irl mytho creatures, cerberus. that guy cool as shit. #swagger.

this took me three whole days to answer. enjoyable experience rlly made me think. sorry for any typos i used swipe typing for parts of this 😿.

@sylvie-wants-your-dogs hi : )

the ULTIMATE f/o infodumping ask game!

(this is gonna be a long one...)

🍓 - disregarding the career your f/o currently has, what other career would they consider going into, if given the chance?

🍒 - if your f/o and you spend a day doing anything, anything at all, what would they do and why?

🍎 - what's your f/o's favorite drink? any drink, alcoholic or non alcoholic!

🍉 - is your f/o religious? what's their opinion on religion or spirituality?

🍑 - is your f/o more comfortable giving or receiving gifts? why? do they have any preferences on gifts they like receiving?

🍊 - if you asked your f/o to peel an orange for you, what would they do?

🥭 - did your f/o have stuffed animals growing up? do they still have stuffed animals? do they have a favorite?

🍍 - if you could change any one thing about your f/os backstory/character, what would you change? why?

🍌 - does your f/o have a vendetta against The Big Light™? what kind of lighting do they prefer?

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

🍋‍🟩 - is your f/o superstitious? is there any habits they follow or quirks they have to follow said superstitions? like not opening umbrellas indoors to avoid back luck?

🍈 - does your f/o believe in fate? do they thing everything is preplanned out by the universe or a higher power, or do they think that the idea of fate is bogus? why?

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

🍐 - does your f/o have any nervous ticks or idle quirks they do? like mindlessly tapping on a desk or fiddling with their hair when they're stressed?

🥝 - would your f/o ever let you do their make-up? what does their make-up process look like? is it simple? complex?

🫒 - what kind of hugger is your f/o? do they give good hugs? do they like hugs? do they like receiving hugs?

🫐 - is your f/o more of a writer or an artist? would you say your f/o is more left or right brained?

🍇 - if you and your f/o never met, what do you think your f/o would be doing right now?

🥥 - what hobbies does your f/o have? is there any hobby they would like to get into that they haven't tried out yet? what is it?

🍅 - if your f/o could buy you any gift in the world, whether it exists or not, what would they buy you? or, if they could make you something, what would it be?

🌶️ - does your f/o have any remedies they follow when they get sick? like taking a shot of whiskey to get rid of a fever?

🫚 - is your f/o a picky eater? is there any foods they will not under any circumstances, gun to their head, eat?

🥕 - when your f/o was little, did they dislike vegetables? do they still dislike them?

🧅 - what makes your f/o cry? do they get emotional at sad movies or books? do they only get emotional under very rare circumstances?

🌽 - does your f/o have a favorite animal? what is it? are they scared of any animals?

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why?

🥒 - what's your f/o afraid of? do they have any phobias? anything minor they're scared of?

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not nessecarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

🫑 - how does your f/o feel about death? are they afraid of it? is there anything specific they'd like to do before they die?

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

🍠 - what are a few of your f/os favorite pastimes or things that they do when they're bored?

🍆 - does your f/o have a favorite scent? why is it their favorite? do they have a least favorite scent?

🧄 - does your f/o have any allergies? food or otherwise?

🥔 - does your f/o have any food dishes they make often? is there any foods you make for your f/o that they enjoy?

🍄‍🟫 - if your f/o could be any mythological species, what would they be? if your f/o is already a mythological species, would they ever want to be human?

I recommend practicing reblog karma ! people love infodumping about their f/os :) I also recommend sending more than one emoji at a time,,, there are Many here...!!!

#😾🪲#🪲#interactive #loredomp

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hotgeniusreid · 2 days ago

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I like the way you kiss me

Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Mentions of: Kissing (lord all I ask for is to kiss this man), Oral (m and f receiving bc we all about equality here), Sex, P in V (no protection used), squirting, not proofread (we die like men)

!!!NSFW/MINORS DNI!!!

If you asked Dr. Spencer Reid what his favorite pastime was, he would most likely express how much he enjoyed reading, sure he read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory, finishing a book in less than 10 minutes. But that was before you came into his life.

If you were to ask him that same question now, his answer would be kissing you.

Soft sighs and gentle moans filled the living room, the soft ‘mwuah’ of lips meeting, tender passionate kisses, no rush, no hurry, as your bodies molded together on the couch, Spencer’s book discarded next to you, his fingers tangled in your hair, urging your impossibly closer.

Normally when Spencer would come home from a case, he was hurried to get you to bed and let go of his and your frustrations, but these rare days where there was no desperation and nowhere to go were your favorite, where you could take time exploring each other's mouths, the best part? When Spencer would get confident and slip his tongue into your mouth, a surprised gasp left your mouth, instantly returning the gesture, letting your tongue dance against his.

You parted from him briefly, resting your head against his, both of you panting and out of breath, “I love you.” He murmured, his hands trailing down your hips, “I love the way you kiss me.” He whispers, hand coming back up to cup your cheek before leaning back in and pressing his lips back onto yours, before trailing kisses from your jaw down to your neck, soft mewls escaping your mouth at the feeling.

Kissing Spencer was nothing like you had expected it to be, you never knew what it felt like to be worshipped, and Spencer intended to show you just how much he truly loved you.

His hands traveled downwards, gently gripping your ass, an ‘mmhn’ erupting from your throat, taking it as a sign you grind your hips down on him, feeling the way the grip he had on your ass tightened. “Baby… Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He murmurs, placing more open mouth kisses on your neck.

You trail your hand up his chest until your hand wraps gently around his throat, feeling his pulse under your fingers, you make him look you in the eyes, “I’ll never not want you, Spence.” You mumble as you bring your lips back to his once more.

The kiss becomes desperate, teeth clashing, spit dripping, grinding against each other as you unbutton his shirt, exposing his toned chest. “Let me make you feel good baby.” You murmur, removing yourself from his lap, you drop yourself down to your knees in front of him. Spencer looks down at you and lets out a hum, he loved seeing you like this, on your knees, pupils dilated and eyes lidded from your arousal, he also knows just how turned on you are, knowing that if he were to remove your bottoms you would be soaked.

You press kisses from his happy trail down to his bulge that is concealed by his pants. You unzip his trousers and pull them down with his boxers, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, the tip angry and red, you press a sloppy kiss to his tip, letting out a ‘hmm’ at the feeling of precum staining your lips. You press kisses down his throbbing cock, and Spencer has never seen a more beautiful sight, you on your knees in front of him kissing his cock as if it were your turn to worship him.

You kiss his tip once more before opening your mouth and suckling on his tip, you hear a hiss of pleasure from Spencer before you feel his hand in your hair, you look up and meet his gaze, and take more of his thick length into your mouth, his head lolls back against the couch, “Fuck you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” You pull off of his cock with a ‘pop’ and stick your tongue out, he takes this as a sign and grips the base of his cock with his other hand, slapping his cock against your tongue and smearing pre all over your mouth.

You take him back into your mouth, swallowing down the inches of his cock, you would never admit it Spencer, but the weight of his cock in your mouth made you feel like you could cum untouched, your eyes flutter closed as you will yourself to take the rest of his cock down your throat, a satisfied ‘mmm’ vibrates again his cock as you take him to the base.

His hand comes down to your throat, feeling the bulge his cock created and he lets out a growl, “Good girl baby look at you.” He coos, petting the top of your head, you pull off of him, gasping for air, a string of saliva dripping from your lips, Spencer leans forward, once more pressing your lips to his, lips still connected, he stands, grabbing your hand, a signal for you to stand.

He grabs you by the waist, turning you and having you lay back against the couch, “My turn to repay you yeah? Since you did such a good job.” He murmurs, his turn to drop to his knees, pressing light kisses up your thigh, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down, and tossing them somewhere in the living room.

He parts your legs and coos at the sight before him, he found it so hard to believe that just pleasuring him and sucking his cock made you so aroused, bringing his face closer you can feel his hot breath on your cunt, and you let out a whimper at the feeling, he spreads your folds with his thumbs, and licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, at the feeling of his tongue on you, your back arches, “M-Mmm Spence, feels good, a-ah!” He continues his attack on your cunt, dipping his tongue into your tight hole, his nose rubbing against your clit, he ate you as if you were his last meal.

His mouth latches to your clit, sucking on it, as he inches two fingers into your wet heat, instantly curling his fingers to find that spot that never failed to make you see stars, you let out a gasp, biting your lip and rolling your eyes, a cry of his name falling from your lips and you grind your cunt against his mouth, feeling the waves of pleasure building up, you clench around his fingers, he lets out a hum, the thrust of his fingers speeding up against your g-spot, you let out a squeal, you instinctively try to close your thighs, but he stops you, his free hand gripping your thigh to stop you.

You can feel it coming, the coil tightening more and more, and Spencer can tell too, he feels the way your cunt is clenching around his fingers and can see your slick dripping down his fingers, “You gonna cum baby? Wanna see you make a mess on my fingers.” You nod fervently, babbling out “M’so close, feels s’good!” Your moans becoming louder and louder. He suckles on your clit and curls his fingers and it’s your undoing, you cum with a loud cry, your back arching and your cunt spasming around his fingers.

You feel like your floating, you slump back against the couch, panting and trying to catch your breath, Spencer comes back up, his lips on you once more, you can taste yourself on him and it spurs you on more, you bring your hand down to his cock and grasp it, you jerk him off before lining him up with your hole, Spencer pushes in and you gasp, grasping at his shoulder, still sensitive from your orgasm, your nails dig into his shoulder and he inches his cock into your sopping hole, “Shit baby, always so tight for me.” He hisses, looking down to watch his cock being swallowed by your tight hole.

Finally, his hips are flush against yours, and your eyes are closed shut at the feeling of being filled to the brim, he presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling out and thrusting back in, setting a steady pace as you feel your brain turning to mush, his cock hitting that spot that had you cumming moments before, Spencer is not fairing any better, trying desperately to hold back his orgasm just from the feeling of you spasming around his cock, he brings his thumb down to your clit, messily tracing his name against your clit and it sends you spiraling, “Spencer’m gonna cum again!” You squeal, a moan that turns into a sob, feeling that coil about to snap again, tears are freely flowing from the pleasure.

All it takes is a few more thrusts and him thumbing at your clit before your cumming again, you blackout, your cunt forcefully pushing him out, and you gush around nothing, Spencer pushes back in, fucking into you faster before he’s cumming, hot white ropes of cum spurting into your cunt and he lets out a low groan. You both come down from your highs, both of you trying to catch your breaths, he pulls out slowly, and you whine at the feeling of his cock slipping out of you.

“You did so good for me angel, let’s go take a shower and clean you off yeah?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom, “What about the mess I made on the couch?” He chuckles, “I’ll take care of that later, right now we’re gonna take care of you.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #Spencer Reid x reader smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #minors dni #minors will be blocked #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x you #derek morgan #Derek Morgan x reader

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levanterhaze · 2 days ago

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GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader a loooot of sexual tension, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, handjob, a lot of curse words, dirty talk.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[7.4k words ]♡― guys, i'm very grateful that you enjoyed gameboy. thanks to everyone who asked to be on the taglist, to everyone who is deeply involved in the story (just like me). here's another chapter. the third of this journey. don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two]

We'll be dancin' with the shadows in the night The stars are jealous knowing that you’re by my side Feel the adrenaline, acceleration In the course, we’ll be drivin' so rough

The whole campus buzzed like it had just been cast as extras in Magic Mike: College Edition.

Nahee appeared with her basket of brownies, practically vibrating with excitement. You had floated the idea to your theater crew, and, much to your delight, they had all rallied behind it.

“This,” she said, scanning the chaotic crowd, “is the sluttiest thing I’ve ever seen.” She turned to you, her grin devilish. “And I love it.”

The scene was pandemonium. The entire basketball team had ditched their shirts, creating a spectacle that rivaled any reality dating show. Lines formed instantly—three people deep for each boy, regardless of who they were. Men, women, professors who “just happened to be walking by”—no one was immune. A few of the boys even posed for photos, flexing like they were auditioning for a particularly steamy firefighter calendar.

“This has a countdown clock before someone shuts it down,” you said, arms crossed, though you couldn’t stop your lips from twitching.

“Let them try,” Eunji sighed, fanning herself dramatically. “This is art. This is community service. This is visual serotonin.”

“Speaking of the devil…” Nahee tilted her head, gesturing with the slightest nod.

You followed her gaze and immediately wished you hadn’t. Bangchan was front and center, a walking thirst trap without even trying. His arms, all defined muscle and veins, moved in practiced ease as he handed out brownies with that easy smile of his. His shoulders looked like they could carry half the student body, and his wet, glistening torso was proof he either took this way too seriously or knew exactly what he was doing. Either way, the guy was impossible to ignore.

You tilted your head, feigning indifference despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “Guess some people can’t help themselves, huh?”

Nahee smirked, not buying it for a second. “Some people, indeed.”

You hated to admit it, but he was a natural. Flashing easy smiles, throwing in effortless charm, making every girl swoon just enough to dig into their wallets a little faster. All he had on were sweatpants slung low on his hips and his cap turned backward—just unfair, really.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t talking. There was nothing to talk about. And yet, after the kiss, everything had shifted. Bangchan had distanced himself like you were a plague, and for once, he wasn’t even trying to get under your skin.

You stole glances when you thought he wouldn’t notice, hating the way every passing hand seemed to have permission to touch him. He didn’t look at you once. And knowing him, that meant something.

The sun was relentless, making the whole shirtless thing almost justifiable. You, Eunji, Nahee, and Sohee made your rounds across campus, hustling for the theater fund. But let’s be real—nobody cared about the cause.

They wanted six-packs and pretty smiles.

You were so busy pretending not to notice Bangchan’s every move that you almost missed the presence looming beside you.

“Hey,” Mingyu greeted, arms crossed, his signature grin firmly in place. “Got one of those brownies for me?”

“Of course,” you said, grabbing a brownie and passing it to him. He handed you a bill, and the weight of it made you freeze. That wasn’t just a regular bill—it was way too much.

“Uh, I think you might’ve made a mistake…” you started, holding it up.

“No mistake,” he cut in smoothly. “I’m buying the whole basket.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry, what now?” you glanced at the basket, then back at him. “You want to buy all of them?”

“You heard me.” he shrugged, his tone so casual it bordered on infuriating.

Your brow arched instinctively, your internal lie detector pinging. Still, you weren’t about to complain about a sale this good. Slowly, you held the basket out to him, trying to mask your suspicion with a polite smile.

But Mingyu just shook his head, taking a bite of the brownie in his hand. “Keep it,” he said, licking the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t buy them for the brownies.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, your sass kicking in to override your confusion. “Oh, right. I forgot. They pair perfectly with a little showing off.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted a reason to talk to the cutest seller here.”

“You know, flattery works better when you actually take the brownies.”

“I’ve got what I wanted,” he teased, taking another bite.

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes, you couldn’t hide your smirk. A sale was a sale, even if the customer was a little too smooth for his own good.

You stood there, momentarily stunned. Someone had just dropped a ridiculous amount of money on brownies—out of nowhere—and then decided you could keep both the cash and the sweets. Suspicious? Absolutely. But were you going to argue? Not a chance.

With a smug grin, you strolled across the lawn, basket in one hand and Mingyu’s absurdly generous payment in the other. The whole thing felt like an easy win—until a strange heat crawled up your spine, prickling your skin like the sun had suddenly gotten personal.

You turned your head, and there he was. Bangchan. Watching you.

And for the first time all day, he wasn’t smirking. No teasing, no cocky grin—just something sharp in his gaze, something dark curling at the edges.

Bangchan had never been the clingy type. He wasn’t the guy who caught feelings, overanalyzed texts, or lost sleep over someone who didn’t want him back.

Relationships? Fun while they lasted. Breakups? Mutual and drama-free. Ever since college started, he’d embraced the single and thriving lifestyle—no strings, no complications, no mess.

And sure, people talked. About his skills on the court, his grades, his leadership. But mostly, about his other talents. The ones that kept his phone buzzing at ungodly hours, filled with invitations that had nothing to do with basketball.

Bangchan never minded the attention. He never cared—until the only girl he actually wanted looked at him like he was just another name on a list.

Like he was forgettable.

What the hell was he doing wrong? He was a good guy. A loyal friend. A straight-A student. A goddamn basketball prodigy.

So why weren’t you interested? Why were you the only one immune?

He wanted to push, to test your limits, to make you see him the way he saw you. But that wasn’t his style.

He knew when to start and when to stop. And right now? He was dangerously close to crossing that line.

Bangchan wasn’t asking for much. Just a moment—one real, uninterrupted conversation with you. No sharp comebacks, no teasing deflections. Just you, stripped of the armor you wore so well.

But that wasn’t your style, was it? You never made things easy.

It all started when Hyunjin, the group’s reigning drama king, decided to join the theater. Naturally, he demanded a full entourage for moral support, which was how Bangchan ended up in that stuffy auditorium, sitting between Seungmin, Changbin, and Jeongin, watching Hyunjin pour his soul into a song like he was auditioning for Broadway itself.

He was good. Of course, he was good. Velvet-voiced, graceful, with a presence that demanded attention. The second he finished, Bangchan was ready to get up, clap him on the back, and drag him out for celebratory food—

Until you stepped onto the stage.

He didn’t know your name yet. Didn’t know anything about you. But there you were, in knee-high boots and a white dress, angelical, standing under the spotlight like you owned it.

Then, you started to sing. I’ll Be Over You. Soft, rich, and powerful all at once.

And just like that, Bangchan was gone.

He wasn’t used to losing—not in basketball, not in academics, and definitely not when it came to people. So when he finally got close enough to talk to you, he expected… well, something.

Maybe intrigue. Maybe mild annoyance. Fuck, he would’ve taken playful exasperation.

But you? You loathed him.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Any hope of friendship, of even standing on neutral ground, went up in flames. You always had a comeback locked and loaded, always deflected, always avoided his gaze like it might set you on fire.

And maybe it would.

Because that sharp tongue of yours? The way you kept him at arm’s length, like he wasn’t worth a second glance? It only made him want to push harder.

So fine. If you were going to make him fight for every inch, he’d play along.

He just needed to know—was this all just a game to you? Or were you just as afraid of losing as he was?

The bar was buzzing, laughter and conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and the steady thump of music. You were comfortably wedged between Sohee and Eunji, their arms draped around you like you were some rare artifact they had to protect at all costs.

You were tipsy, maybe a little emotional, but mostly just basking in the warmth of the people around you. Tonight wasn’t about stress or overthinking. It was about celebrating a well-earned victory.

"I can't even describe how happy I am, guys," you sighed, raising your glass with a lazy smile. "You are, without a doubt, the best friends a girl could have."

Eunji and Sohee groaned dramatically, tightening their hold on you. "You’re lucky we love you," Eunji grumbled. "And that we’re good at handling your emotional soju phases."

"I mean it," you insisted, half-dramatic, half-serious. "We did it! We have enough to keep the theater running until Mrs. Baek finds a permanent solution."

Your gaze flitted across the table, landing on Seungmin and Hyunjin. "None of this would’ve happened without you."

“We’re a fucking team!” Changbin declared, slamming his hand on the table with the confidence of a man three shots past his limit. "And you know what that means? Another round!"

The table erupted in cheers, and for a moment, everything felt right. Until you felt it. That pull. That heat at the back of your neck, like someone had just flipped a switch.

You knew before you even turned. Bangchan was here.

You refused to acknowledge him. Absolutely not. You were having a great time, and he—well, he was an occupational hazard. A walking, talking disruption to your peace.

"Channie!" Felix called, pulling him further into the group. "Finally decided to show up, huh?"

You still didn’t look. Instead, you took a long sip of your drink and focused on the condensation trailing down your glass, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

But Bangchan had never been one to be ignored.

"You didn’t think I'd come?" his voice slid into the conversation so smoothly it sent a shiver down your spine.

You took your time—because if he was going to show up and be smug about it, you could at least make him wait. Finally, you turned, meeting his eyes head-on. "Didn’t think you’d dare."

He smirked, leaning just a little closer, like he was waiting for you to react. You didn’t.

But your pulse? Yeah, that was another story.

Bangchan leaned back in his seat, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he watched his friends celebrate. He should’ve felt the same rush of excitement, the same weightless joy—but his mind was elsewhere. The relentless pressure of basketball training sat heavy on his chest, and the gnawing anxiety that came with it refused to let go.

And then there was you.

Standing there, effortlessly stunning, laughing like the world had never touched you. Just close enough to see, but never close enough to reach.

When Changbin made his way to the bar for another round, you followed, craving something non-alcoholic to cut through the buzz in your head. He glanced at you as you stepped up beside him.

“Happy?” he asked, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eye.

You grinned, light and unburdened in a way Bangchan hadn’t seen in a while. “Very. Thanks for all the help.”

Changbin shook his head with a smirk. “You should be thanking my boy over there.”

Your brows knitted together as you followed his gaze. Bangchan, mid-laugh, his head thrown back at something Jisung said. Carefree. Unbothered. Completely unaware that your entire world had just tilted on its axis.

“What?”

“He basically forced the team to join the sale,” Changbin said, voice thick with the weight of alcohol and honesty. “Said it was to help a friend.”

Your stomach did something weird—tightened, flipped, something you weren’t prepared for.

The memory hit like a slow-motion replay. Bangchan barged into your dorm, smug as ever, announcing he had dragged the entire basketball team into your little fundraising mess. You had assumed it was for Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe even for some ego boost, a reason to flash that damn smirk of his.

But no. A friend.

“Really?”

Changbin snorted. “What? You think he went out selling brownies half-naked just for fun?”

You forced a laugh, but your smile didn’t quite stick. Something about it—about him—felt different now.

Changbin walked off with his four bottles of soju, leaving you behind, still leaning against the counter, replaying his words in your head. It was almost offensive to think of Bangchan as anything other than his usual self—cocky, overconfident, annoyingly self-assured. Your brain outright rejected the idea that he could be good. That he could do something selfless without expecting anything in return.

And yet, here you were, stuck with the uncomfortable realization that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be.

Letting your guard down was one thing. Admitting you’d been wrong? That was the real battle.

You made your way back to the table, feeling just sober enough to regret this night’s life-altering discoveries. Sliding onto the edge of your seat, you watched as Jisung threw himself into a chair, already deep in the throes of drunken confidence.

“I’m feeling karaoke,” he announced, slurring just a little. “Who’s in?”

One by one, the group rose, fueled by alcohol and poor decision-making. Bangchan stood up last, and as he did, your hand found his arm, barely brushing over the smooth leather of his jacket.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a second, he just stared, as if trying to decipher whether this was some kind of elaborate prank. Then, he glanced at the others heading toward the karaoke booth and nodded.

“Later,” he murmured. “That okay?”

You swallowed, suddenly unsure why your heartbeat had decided to play double time.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “That’s… yeah. Sure.”

The night had escalated quickly. One minute, everyone was just vibing at Kooler’s, and the next, you were crammed into a karaoke room, neon lights flashing, Sohee absolutely butchering a ballad while Eunji screamed in horror.

The mic passed around until it somehow ended up in your hands.

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. “I don’t sing in public.”

“Ma’am,” Eunji deadpanned. “You’re in the drama club.”

“Yeah, for acting,” you retorted. “Not for embarrassing myself in front of—”

But then the opening notes of Breaking Free started playing, and the room lost it.

“Oh, you have to sing now,” Changbin cackled.

“We’re literally living a High School Musical moment!” Sohee clapped.

Then, the real nightmare happened. Bangchan grabbed the second mic.

The room erupted.

“TROY AND GABRIELLA, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Eunji announced like a sports commentator.

“Nope.” you stood up, but Jisung pushed you back onto the couch.

“You must embrace destiny,” he said solemnly.

Bangchan, ever the performer, smirked at you before dramatically bringing the mic to his lips. “We’re soarin’, flyin’—”

You covered your face with both hands. “Kill me.”

“That’s not the lyrics,” Changbin howled.

The moment Bangchan began to sing, his voice smooth and steady, you felt it—the tiny spark igniting between you, the way his presence pulled you in no matter how hard you tried to resist. His voice wrapped around the lyrics effortlessly, making them sound less like a cheesy high school musical duet and more like something real, something raw.

Then it was your turn.

Bangchan stilled for a moment, eyes widening slightly as you sang your part. He had always known you had a great voice—it was impossible not to, given how much time you spent in the theater club—but hearing you like this, just the two of you, no stage, no rehearsals, just you—it was mesmerizing.

God, you sounded unreal.

His chest tightened at how effortlessly you carried each note, how your voice blended with his in a way that made his skin prickle. You weren’t just singing—you were feeling it, even if you tried to hide behind an indifferent mask. He could see it in the way your body moved slightly to the music, in the way your lips curled at certain lyrics.

And fuck, he felt it too.

As the song picked up, the energy between you both crackled. Your voices melted together in harmony, and the chemistry was undeniable. You tried not to look at him, tried to focus on the screen, but every time you did, Bangchan was already looking at you, that damned smirk still in place.

When the chorus hit, something inside you gave in just a little. The moment was too fun, too infectious, and before you knew it, you were actually enjoying yourself.

You didn’t notice the way Bangchan’s gaze softened.

He saw through you, saw the way you let your guard down, even for just a second. And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the alcohol, or the way your voice wrapped around his in the final harmonized note, but Bangchan couldn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot as you finished the song.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Everyone jumped up like it was the Super Bowl. Eunji was sobbing dramatically into Hyunjin’s shoulder. Changbin was standing on the couch, pointing like an old man watching his grandkids do something historic.

“Troy and Gabriella could never!”

When the song ended, the room was feral.

“That was the single most important moment of my life,” Eunji declared, visibly drunk and happy.

“I think I just saw God,” Felix wheezed.

Meanwhile, you just handed the mic to Eunji, turned to Bangchan, and muttered, “I hate you.”

He leaned in, voice low enough for only you to hear. “Sure you do.”

You’d excused yourself under the guise of needing a breather, but really, you just needed a damn second to exist without someone screaming lyrics in your ear or pulling you into another round of shots. The night was fun, but it was loud, and if you wanted to make it through, you needed a minute to reset.

The balcony was empty, save for the faint scent of nicotine lingering in the air. You took a deep breath, letting the cool breeze settle against your skin, grounding yourself. The city hummed below, distant and detached, and for a second, you just… let yourself be.

Then, before you even opened your eyes, you felt him.

That ridiculously familiar cologne. The one that had been all over you. On his t-shirt. In your space. In your head.

“Is our rockstar already tapped out?”

You turned just in time to see Bangchan leaning back against the railing, watching you with that look.

“A little.” you waved a hand dismissively, but your small smile gave you away.

His was softer, quieter than usual, but still there. Still undeniably him. And the way his eyes swept over you in the dim light? Yeah. You could feel it. The way he noticed things, details, like he was cataloging every inch of you.

It should’ve annoyed you. But tonight? Tonight, it didn’t.

“Heard you wanted to talk to me.”

You raised a brow, suddenly remembering why you had pulled him aside in the first place. “Right. Think I owe you an apology.”

Bangchan’s expression flickered with surprise. “For what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I?” he leaned in slightly, nodding as if urging you to continue. “You should be clearer.”

You exhaled, hating how hard it was to say it. Vulnerability has never been your strong suit.

“Fine.” you glanced down at your boots, gathering your thoughts. “I know you convinced the basketball team to help with the sale. I assumed the worst about you, and that wasn’t fair. So… I’m sorry. You really helped me.”

Silence.

When you looked up, Bangchan was staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. Confused. A little offended. Like that was what you thought needed an apology.

“That’s what you’re apologizing for?”

You blinked, confused. “What else should I apologize for?”

Bangchan let out a dry, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair before whispering a low, exasperated “fuck you.”

Your eyes narrowed. His arms crossed over his chest, the leather of his jacket tightening around his sleeves as he shifted against the ledge.

“What was that?” you demanded.

“Look, I appreciate the apology, really. But that’s not the thing you should be apologizing for.”

Oh, he was so good at pissing you off. Always had been.

“Then be clearer,” you shot back, arms folding tightly over your chest.

“Alright.” Bangchan turned to you fully, gaze locked in, voice steady. Too steady. “Let’s talk about your habit of coming after me and then bolting the second it gets real.”

Your jaw clenched. “I never—”

“For fuck’s sake, be for real. At the party? In my dorm? I’m not saying I didn’t want it—fuck, I wanted it. But so did you. And then you acted like it was a mistake. You run from things.”

His words landed like a punch to the stomach—sharp, direct, impossible to ignore. You blinked hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes, but you had nothing. No witty comeback, no escape route. Just the weight of the truth between you.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you did want this—him. The way he looked at you like he could devour you whole, the way his hands knew exactly where to go, the way your body reacts before your mind could stop it. You wanted it. You wanted him. But wanting didn’t make it easy.

“Why are you mad?”

“Why?” he let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Because it’s fucking frustrating, that’s why. You can’t make up your damn mind.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, but your heart was hammering.

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, voice quieter now, the anger slipping into something else. “Not for me.”

“Why? Because you hate me?” his lips curled, amused despite himself. “Which, by the way, I’d love to hear all those bullshit reasons why.”

“Is that really what matters?” you lifted your chin, defiant.

“So what, you’ve just decided you’re gonna hate me forever?”

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, voice dripping with venom.

Bangchan smirked, stepping in closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering its prey. He leaned against the railing, his body angled toward yours, closing in just enough to make you breathless. "Hate to break it to you, love," his voice was low, dripping with amusement, "but people don’t usually fuck their enemies."

That voice. That damned voice—soft as silk, smooth as sin, and dangerous enough to make your pulse stutter.

Heat coiled in your stomach, spreading like wildfire, your body betraying you instantly. No. You weren’t going to let him win this.

"You’re right," you said, tilting your chin up, feigning nonchalance. "Which is why it’s never happening again."

A bold-faced lie. One you both saw through immediately. Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, your mind was already spinning with memories—his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies fit together like a perfect crime.

Bangchan chuckled, dark and knowing. He moved closer, close enough that you could feel his breath graze your lips, your senses drowning in him—the scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off his skin, the sheer audacity in his gaze.

"That’s a shame," he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, "because we’ve got insane bed chem."

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know what was doing you in—the teasing rasp of his voice, the heat rolling off his body, the way his muscles flexed under that stupidly fitted jacket, or just him. All of him.

And just like that, your heart slammed against your ribs, your resolve threatening to crumble.

Bangchan lingered, watching—waiting. He wanted to see it happen, the exact moment your carefully built walls cracked. His pulse pounded, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. But you held firm, clinging desperately to whatever thread of self-control you had left.

His smirk deepened, infuriatingly cocky. "I’m heading out," he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. Then, with a knowing glance, he added, "If you ever change your mind… you know where to find me."

And just like that, he turned on his heel, walking away without so much as a second look, leaving you standing there—heart racing, head spinning, and a heat pooling low in your stomach that you really didn’t want to acknowledge.

The night stretched on, loud and chaotic, but undeniably fun. By the time the drinks had blurred everyone’s ability to string together a coherent sentence, you decided to call it.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee barely made it to their rooms before collapsing face-first onto their beds, too drunk to even bother kicking off their shoes.

You wished you could do the same. But no—your mind had other plans.

You tossed. You turned. You put on some soft music, hoping it would lull you into sleep. It didn’t. Instead, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was him.

The way he leaned in earlier, the heat rolling off him like an invitation. The way his muscles flexed beneath his jacket. The way his voice dropped, teasing, tempting, knowing.

You exhaled sharply, fingers curling into the sheets. It was ridiculous. Annoying. Infuriating.

You rolled onto your side, desperate for a distraction—anything—when your gaze landed on something draped over your study chair.

A black T-shirt. His.

The idea bloomed in your mind just as quickly as the heat spread between your thighs.

Pathetic. That’s what this was. That’s what you were.

Still, you got up, grabbing the shirt in your hands. His scent clung to the fabric—clean, musky, him. Just the faintest trace of it had your stomach twisting, the warmth inside you flickering into something dangerously close to need.

Before you could think better of it, you were pulling a hoodie over your flimsy excuse of a pajama shirt and slipping out the door.

It was past midnight. The campus was practically a ghost town at this hour, which was both a blessing and a curse. No one witnessed this humiliating trek across the quad. No one to stop you, either.

Your steps quickened as you reached his building, as if slowing down would somehow bring back your sanity.

Not happening. Not when your knuckles were already rapping against the door. Not when your breath was unsteady, your chest rising and falling too fast. Not when anticipation was burning through your veins, leaving you lightheaded and restless.

Shuffling sounds came from the other side. The lock clicked.

And then—him.

Bangchan stood in the doorway, his torso bare, sweatpants hanging sinfully low on his hips. His skin gleamed under the dim hallway light, muscles shifting as he leaned against the doorframe.

One look at you—hoodie, messy hair, his damn shirt clenched in your fingers—and something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly. His gaze darkened.

He already knew.

Bangchan was deep in sleep when the knocks came. His brows furrowed, his face crumpled with exhaustion as he groggily sat up, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

He hadn't been expecting anyone. But when he swung open the door, there you were. Hoodie slightly oversized, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with something unspoken.

You lifted the black shirt in your hands, your breath still uneven. “You forgot this.”

Bangchan’s gaze dropped to the fabric, then back to you, slow and deliberate.

“That’s all?” his voice was rough with sleep, but there was something sharper beneath it.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No.”

That was all he needed.

The shirt was snatched from your grip and tossed somewhere behind him. His free hand was already at your waist, pulling you inside with a force that had your pulse skyrocketing. The door barely had time to click shut before you were on him. Hands in his hair, lips crashing into his, pouring all your frustration and desperation into the kiss.

Bangchan groaned into your mouth, gripping your hips so tight it sent a shiver down your spine. His skin was warm, solid beneath your touch—broad shoulders, the ridges of muscle beneath your fingertips.

And you wanted all of him.

His hands slid up, fingers teasing along the curve of your spine. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, earning a sharp, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

You barely recognized yourself at this point. There was barely any sanity left in your body, and whatever remained was slipping fast.

Somehow, between hectic kisses and hands wandering like they had a mind of their own, you ended up on the sofa. Bangchan sat with his legs spread, his breath heavy, and you straddled his lap, your hands splayed against his firm chest.

His eyes were dark, hooded, watching you like you were something he wanted to devour.

"Are you sure?" the words left his lips, but your body already knew the answer. Your stomach twisted—not with doubt, but with the unbearable anticipation of what was about to happen.

Bangchan opened his mouth, but you pressed two fingers against his plush lips, cutting him off.

"Shhh," you hissed, your voice edged with frustration. Your hips rolled against him, a slow, deliberate drag that had him sucking in a sharp breath. The way he twitched beneath you sent a wicked thrill through your veins.

"You're driving me insane," you confessed, your nails digging into his skin. "You're in my head. That ridiculous face of yours."

Through the haze of want, Bangchan let out a breathless laugh, slowly biting your finger. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

You smirked, dragging your fingers down his jaw. "Shut up. Kiss me."

And he did—like he had been waiting his whole damn life to.

With effortless ease, he shrugged off his sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but that dangerously thin white tank top—one that did absolutely nothing to hide how your body reacted to him. Bangchan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight. Fucking hell. He wanted to devour you. Every inch. Every sound. Every shiver.

His lips crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, his hand curling around the base of your neck as his tongue teased and tangled with yours. He tasted you like he was trying to memorize every second of it, like he never wanted to stop. The heat of him, the way his fingers dug into your waist, how his breath hitched every time you met his urgency—it was intoxicating.

Then his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, down your neck, and suddenly, your body wasn’t yours anymore. Your knees went weak, your breath came in ragged little gasps, and before you could stop yourself, a low, broken moan escaped your lips—right against his ear.

Bangchan groaned. That sound. That fucking sound. He was about to lose his goddamn mind. His hands tightened around your hips, his patience thinning by the second as you shifted against him, rolling your hips just enough to make him ache.

That sound. That fucking sound. Bangchan was about to lose his goddamn mind.

“I want it off,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with need.

His hands twitched against your waist, desperate. He could’ve ripped those pants clean off your body if he wanted to. But you took your sweet, agonizing time peeling them away before settling back onto his lap, now wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of white panties.

He would have torn your pants to shreds right then and there, but you took your time—agonizingly slow as you peeled them away before settling back onto his lap, now clad in nothing but the flimsy white panties that left nothing to his imagination.

And fuck. Bangchan broke.

You looked like a dream, like something too good to be real. Kiss-swollen lips. Hair messy from his hands. Chest rising and falling as you gasped for breath.

You were going to ruin him.

The absence of your pants made you bolder, rolling your hips in slow, teasing waves against his lap. He was already impossibly hard, every grind making it worse—if you kept this up, he was going to lose it before he even got the chance to be inside you. And that was not what he wanted.

But fuck, it felt good. The thick bulge in his sweatpants rubbing against your soaked panties, just barely grazing your clit, sending white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Every movement set off a new wave of heat, of need, of something devastatingly addictive.

“I need to do something,” you whispered against his lips, your breath warm and uneven.

Bangchan still had his eyes closed, savoring every second of this moment, refusing to let it slip away.

“Please.”

Your hands drifted down, fingers ghosting over the outline of his cock through the soft fabric of his sweats, barely touching—but more than enough to make his whole body tense. He gritted his teeth, veins pulsing as your palm pressed just a little harder.

“Fuck…” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost a plea.

You shifted between his legs, fingers toying with the hem of his pants, your nails barely scraping against his skin. His gaze burned into yours, dark with anticipation, completely at your mercy. And when you finally wrapped your hand around him—hot, firm, thick—he let out a shaky, wrecked breath.

A low groan escaped his lips, his head falling back against the couch as you wrapped your hand around him, warmth meeting warmth. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, every nerve in his body set ablaze by your slow, deliberate movements. You weren’t in a hurry—you wanted him to feel this. To lose himself in the way you handled him, the way you made him wait.

"You said I could use my pretty mouth next time," you murmured, feigning innocence, biting your lip just enough to drive him mad.

And then you winked—sweet, angelic, like you weren’t about to completely wreck him.

His breathing stuttered. His hands twitched at his sides, fighting the urge to grab you, to make you do something instead of torturing him like this. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his voice wrecked, eyes rolling shut as pleasure coiled in his stomach.

You only smiled, satisfied with how easily he was unraveling for you. Leaning in, you ghosted your lips over his, not quite kissing him—just close enough for him to chase after the contact. His body burned under yours, every breath he took shaky, labored.

"Like that, baby" he panted, his voice breaking as he let himself go, surrendering to the moment, to you.

To his torment, you picked up the pace, your touch firm, deliberate. His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath your hand as his head fell back against the couch. The heat between you was unbearable, a wildfire consuming every inch of restraint he had left.

His moans came unchecked, rough and unrestrained, completely at your mercy. He let you guide him, surrendering to every agonizing second—until suddenly, it all stopped. The loss of contact was like a snapped tether, leaving him breathless, on edge, undone.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he blinked down at you, wide-eyed, dazed. The way you knelt between his legs, watching him with that look—he swore it could drive him insane.

And then, with agonizing slowness, your lips parted. The moment your mouth met his cock, his whole body tensed, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth. His fingers curled into the couch, muscles drawn tight as you worked him over, your tongue teasing, tormenting, ruining him.

"Look at you," he murmured, smirking like he had the upper hand when, in reality, he was barely holding himself together. "So pretty around my cock" his tongue flicked over his lower lip, his voice rough, almost reverent.

If his goal was to sound composed, he was failing miserably.

You hummed in response, deliberately slow, deliberate in every movement. He cursed under his breath, fingers threading through your hair, not pulling—yet—but holding, like he needed something to keep him grounded.

"If you keep going," his voice was strained now, his thighs tensing beneath your touch, "I—"

You raised an eyebrow. "What, baby?”

His jaw clenched. He was already too far gone to play games, but you weren’t about to make this easy for him.

And then, just as he warned, he shattered. Every muscle in his body locked up, his breath stuttering as he tipped his head back, a curse slipping past his lips like a prayer. You didn’t let up, dragging out every second of his cum until his grip on reality seemed just as unsteady as his grip on you.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his grip on your hair going slack. You pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, before giving him a slow, knowing smile.

By the end of it, he was completely wrecked—chest heaving, eyes hazy, limbs boneless. His vision blurred at the edges, like his body couldn’t decide whether to collapse or beg for more. He knew you were good. Knew the chemistry between you was dangerous. But the way you looked at him—innocent, yet utterly sinful—while taking him so effortlessly? That was his undoing. You weren’t just ruining him.

And yet, you didn’t stop there.

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, capturing his lips in a kiss so wet, so consuming, it made his head spin all over again. The taste of himself lingered between you, but you never shied away from things like that. Bangchan was great in every way, and if he could make you feel good, you’d damn well return the favor.

"Holy shit, baby," he murmured between kisses, his voice still rough with aftershocks, "you're fucking amazing."

The wicked curve of his lips sent heat straight to your core. He was teasing you, even now, when he could barely string words together.

And God, it only made you want him more.

Every movement between you was deliberate—synchronized, electric, and dripping with consent. Bangchan’s fingers trailed down your trembling thighs, finding the soaked fabric of your panties. He barely touched you, yet a deep shiver ran through him, his cock twitching at the sheer slickness of you.

"Fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice thick with hunger.

Then, without warning, he pushed the fabric aside and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing slow, relentless circles.

Your moan was swallowed into the kiss, tangled between tongues and shallow breaths. He was hard again, pressing against your stomach, his body burning with every second of restraint. Bangchan grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer, his free hand teasing and taunting with no predictable rhythm—just continuous, torturous pressure that sent you spiraling.

"I..." you tried to speak, but the words crumbled in your throat, lost in the haze.

Bangchan's dark eyes locked onto your face, studying every microexpression—the way your lips parted, the way your brows knit together, how every tiny twitch exposed just how undone you were.

Then, as if testing the limits of your sanity, he dragged his fingers lower, slipping two deep inside.

You gasped.

The stretch was sinful. Even his fingers were thick, filling you in a way that had you gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Bangchan groaned at the feeling, his patience thinning with every squeeze of your walls around him.

And the worst part? He was just getting started.

He sucked on your lip, bit it, then soothed it with a kiss. "How can you be so fucking tight?" his voice was wrecked, nearly a growl, as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, swallowing him with a desperation that made his cock twitch.

Bangchan didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace turned ruthless—deep, fast, relentless. Each thrust of his fingers sent another jolt of pleasure through you, leaving your brain nothing but static. Your body thawed under his touch, a mess of heat and sensation. He pushed your blouse up just enough to bare your breasts, immediately palming them, kneading them as if the sensation alone could ruin him.

"Don’t stop." the demand left your lips between ragged breaths. "Harder."

Bangchan groaned, watching you ride in his lap like a dream he didn’t deserve. "Jesus Christ." his voice was strained, his self-control hanging by a thread. "’Gonna cum all over me, hmm? Is that what you want?"

It was too much. The filthy words, the ruthless rhythm, his fingers buried deep inside you while his cock throbbed against your thigh, still wet from your mouth. Your body was on the edge of something catastrophic.

And then you shattered.

The orgasm slammed into you like a cursive wave, your moan breaking into something raw, something uncontrollable. Bangchan swore under his breath, completely mesmerized. He didn’t stop—kept his fingers buried inside, working you through every pulse, every aftershock.

When your breath finally started to steady, you opened your eyes. And he was watching you.

His gaze was alarming—dark, hungry, completely ruined. As if he had just witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world.

You were both breathless, skin damp with sweat, but it wasn’t just the intensity of what happened—it was everything that had led to it. The frustration, the tension, the unspoken words tangled between your bodies.

Bangchan reached for his black shirt, which had been abandoned on the arm of the couch. "Keep this."

You eyed him, still catching your breath. "Why?"

"To motivate you."

You snorted, rolling your eyes before giving his shoulder a light shove. "You're so full of yourself."

But you still slipped it on, letting the oversized fabric swallow you up, suddenly feeling less exposed—less vulnerable. His hands remained on your thighs, holding you in place on top of him, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

Then, casually, he picked up his phone and handed it to you. "Put your number in."

You held the device, raising an eyebrow. "Why? So you can save it as ‘bootycall’?"

His lips curled into a slow, shameless smirk. "Maybe."

"You're terrible." you rolled your eyes but still tapped your number into his phone, handing it back with a smirk. "And a complete pervert."

Bangchan ran his hands up your thighs, his fingers lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. "For you?" his voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in his gaze. "Completely."

The weight of the moment settled between you, thick and lingering. And that was your cue. You stood, reaching for your clothes, shaking off whatever it was that passed between you. Bangchan did the same, though not without watching you with that unreadable look on his face.

"You could stay if you want," he offered, ever so casually.

You scoffed. "It's late, and the girls will notice if I'm missing in the morning."

He nodded, as if he understood—because he did. No one could know.

Once you were dressed, you headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance over your shoulder.

"So," Bangchan leaned against the couch, arms crossed, his smirk returning. "How about it?"

You blinked. "What?"

"It'll never happen again?" his tone was pure mischief, mocking you.

Your lips curled, mirroring his amusement. "You have my number." you shrugged, stepping into the hallway. "Make good use of it."

And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, leaving Bangchan standing there, an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling tightening in his chest.

One thing was becoming painfully clear—whatever this was between you, it wasn’t going away. And maybe, just maybe, you were better together than apart.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf

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arbitrarykiwi · 2 days ago

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heyyy!!! loser namgyu lover here. this is purely self indulgent but i would LOVE to see how you’d write loser namgyu w a more innocent reader? not naïve or childish or anything weird like that, just a less experienced one. i literally die for everything you write, the banter, the plot, the smut the everything!!!! can’t wait to see what you have coming. thank u!

Introvert Meets Innocence

LOSER NAMGYU LOVER MY BELOVED!! Ugh your one ask resonated with so many people that we got multiple people requesting more loser!nam-gyu x reader 🤭🤭 and who am I to deny the people of what they want!!! I hope you guys don’t mind I combined these asks, they all came in around the same time and all craved the awkward lil loser man!! I hope you all enjoy 😩 thank you again for requesting !!!!

Warnings: smut (18+), drug usage (weed), forced proximity, oral (f receiving), porn addict/hardly touches women!Namgyu, cowgirl, squirting, creampie, probably more, read at your own risk.

You didn’t expect to end up locked in a room with Nam-Gyu tonight. You really didn’t. You came with your friend to Thanos’ studio- she was dating him.

It was normal! You’ve hung out with them multiple times, you and your friend group going over to the studio after a night out to keep the party going and mingle with Thanos’ group. You had to admit, the majority of the people in the shared group were not the usual people you hung around. You didn’t mind them but they were all very loud and excitable, often knocking back shots quicker than you can count and immediately escalating into breaking furniture. The poor coffee table in the studio has been replaced more times than you could count.

They also all seemed to enjoy the hard drugs- ones you never wished to try- you’ve seen what it’s done to the ones who do it. You stick with weed. Your friends often called you the ‘innocent’ one of the group. You wished you could defend yourself- but when compared to the other people who hung around you were innocent. Hell, half the time you couldn’t even realizes a drug deal was going down in front of you until your friend told you later on.

So anytime you hung with this group- you frequently found yourself on the small side sectional of the studio, next to Nam-Gyu. He was the most tame out of the group. Sure he was odd, awkward even, but after a couple blunts or a line of whatever substance he chose, you could potentially get a conversation out of him. He was brash, often calling you names or criticizing your blunt rolling skills- but you found yourself drawn to him. He was strange, very introverted- he only spoke if he was spoke to. Anytime you saw him out at the club he looked like he wanted to go home. Even now in the studio with at least 10 other people laugh and yelling- you can see the way his nose scrunches in annoyance.

You remember one time a couple months ago, you and him were in the same spot as you are now. You were helping him break down the weed, he looked over to you- you were wearing some sweatpants and a sweater, a drastic difference from the outfits of your friends were wearing. You were curled up into the corner of the couch, nearing falling off the edge of the sectional, like you’re trying your best not to invade his space though he had so much

He scoffs as he looks back to his rolling tray, his face mostly hidden from your view by the hood of the jacket he was wearing. “You’re fucking weird.” He states simply. You can’t help but let out a baffled laugh and look over to him with an offended look. “Ohhhkayyy..” you draw out with a grimace. Trying to decide if you’re more offended by the comment or the fact he spoke to you first. “‘S not a bad thing. You’re just…weird.” He says, like it makes it any better.

He looks back over to you and sees your uneasy and upset look. He’s cursing to himself inwardly, he guessed that didn’t exactly come out the way he intended. “I- fuck.” He groans, you can’t help but laugh, he really doesn’t know how to talk to people. “You’re sitting so far away like I’m going to bite you, you’re dressed like that when all the girls you came with dressed like…” he looks over to your friends across the room, each dressed in short skirts or small tops- all gettinf cozy with men of their own. “..Like that.” He finishes. “You’re just…interesting..I guess that’s the better word.” He mumbles, looking back down to the rolling tray to avoid your eyes.

You seem to relax more, realizing he wasn’t insulting you. “I just didn’t want to be cold, I was wearing something like that at the club. We just stopped home and I changed. Wanted to be comfy.” You shrug. “And I didn’t want to be in your space.” You say softly, fingers working against the weed to break it down, adding to the grown pile on the rolling tray you had in your lap.

“You’re not in my space.” He says, it’s a gruff tone. You smiles softly to yourself but think nothing of it, returning back to your task. You hear him sigh, almost like he’s annoyed, “That was an invitation for you to move closer. You’re practically falling off the couch.”

So now anytime you’re sitting by him helping him roll, you’re closer to him. Thighs almost touching.

Now how did you end up locked in the guest room that was upstairs in the studio!? Well that happened because your friend and Thanos seemed to think they needed to play Cupid. They had enough of the awkward slow burn of sexual tension that seemed to be brewing between you two. And it seemed like neither of you guys realized it. Thanos was tired of seeing the little to no game Nam-Gyu had- sure he would throw a ‘you look nice’ here and there or very obviously eye fuck you, yet Nam-Gyu would do nothing about it. And your friend was tired of you missing every hint Nam-Gyu seemed to throw at you- sure they were piss poor attempts at flirting and most of the times his tone seemed like he was bored with everything around him- but she saw how he stared at you, how he bit his lip harder when you came around, moving over on the couch to make room for your designated spot.

If you two were going to act like nervous awkward high schoolers- they’d play the same game. Somehow Thanos and one of your friends managed to wrangle you two upstairs, throw you two in the room and shut the door behind you guys.

Instinctively Nam-Gyu rushed over to the door, trying to pull it open but it was obvious something was placed on the other side to keep the door shut.

Nam-gyu furiously bangs on the door, “Dude what the fuck! Open the fucking door!” He shouts, pulling at the knob to no avail.

“You two are going to play 60 minutes in heaven!” Your friend calls through the door, you’re furrowing your eyebrows. “Isn’t it 7 minutes in heaven…” you mumble to yourself, confused. Nam-gyu seems to hear you because he’s muttering a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ like you’re missing a whole part of the joke. You then realize exactly what situation you’re in, locked in a room with him and now you’re expected to be in that room for 60 minutes. You’re running over to the door as well, banging on it. “You can’t fucking keep us in here for 60 minutes!!” You call out. There’s no answer and the door still wouldn’t budge. But you still don’t seem to connect the dots, you don’t make the connection between your friend’s words and what’s going on.

You step back, your body temperature rising. This was so fucked of them to do. Knowing your attempts at opening the door are futile, you begin to walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Nam-gyu is still at the door, furiously jiggling the knob for a few more seconds before finally giving up. He’s huffing out an annoyed breath and sinking back away from the door.

He joins you on the bed, sitting a bit away from you, it seems now he’s awkwardly shrinking away like you’ll bite. His hood has fallen off of his head, allowing you to see his face. The corner of his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his face has a slight flush to it, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. Every movement of his leg makes the bed sheets rustle, it’s almost maddening, it’s the only sound you hear in the room.

“Are you anxious?” Your voice cuts through the silence like a knife. He’s scoffing, turning his head away from you and bringing once of his hands up to his face, biting at his thumb nail. What a fantastic fucking question, he thought. He couldn’t believe you were asking that, wasn’t it obvious? “No.” He curtly responds, his tone cold and terse. You shrink back in response, shifting away from him. “But your leg-“ you mutter out, he cuts you off, “It’s nothing. I’m not anxious.” He spits out a bit harshly.

“Okay…” you say glaring at him, fingers pulling at the fabric of the comforter. “We can probably just sit here for a bit and they’ll let us out.” You mumble, eyes trained on your feet. “They won’t.” He says… he sure knows how to swoon with his words. You’re furrowing your eyebrows and rolling your eyes.

In his mind he’s fighting multiple demons. He regrets telling Thanos you were his type. He wishes he wasn’t so fucked up the other week that he let spill he searches up porn categories that you fit. He searches for women with your hair, your eye color, your body type. He didn’t know why he let that slip to Thanos, he blamed it on the mass amount of coke in his system at the time. But ever since he said that, the purple haired rapper has been trying to get him to make a move.

He tried, as best he could, he wasn’t the best with flirting. Lingering touches on your hands as you pass the blunt, a hand laid out on your upper thigh as you talk in a group, maybe a small compliment here and there- saying your hair looked nice or commenting on a new shirt he saw you wear, hed even offer his lap for you to lay on when your head was beginning to hurt from the loud bass playing in the studio. He thought it was obvious, and maybe to someone else it was- but not to you. You’d just giggle and thank him for his compliments, even place your hand over his on his thigh and play with his rings only to go home without hardly saying bye to him. You seemed to never notice he had a thing for you.

But he knew that Thanos orchestrated this whole thing. And he knew that the rapper would not let him out of this room until something happened, until he finally made a move. “And how do you know that? They’re just pulling a dumb prank.” You say, he can hear the attitude in your voice, how you really can’t see the underlying message of what was going on.

He’s struggling, he really is. He wasn’t a virgin, but he might as well be. He’s maybe slept with three women, all one night stands where he was far too high to even remember it. He honestly hated dealing with people and that included any woman he took home for a quick fuck. He admittedly got most of his knowledge from watching porn. He spent countless nights at his desk chair, cock in his hand, chasing his third release of the night. And when he met you, his search history was flooded with key search terms that applied to your physical attributes. He was a fucking loser and Thanos expected him to make a move on you!?

“Do you really not see what’s going on here?” He’s asking looking at you with furrowed brows, his harsh tone making you shrink back from him. He’s immediately regretting the way he say it and inwardly scolding himself- he didn’t mean for it to come out that way. “60 minutes in heaven….a play on 7 minutes in heaven…” he says, drawing out his words like it would make you realize. “Yeah…so? Just a stupid change of the name I guess,” you respond shrugging.

He’s pinching his brow in disbelief. You really were so innocent. You really couldn’t see the situation your friend just forced you into.

You pout, starting to think maybe he didn’t like you at all. He was flinching away from you like you were poisonous, his face was flushed and pale like he was physically getting ill around you. “They’re not going to let us out. They locked us in here because they want us to fuck.”

His words make you gawk at him, he can’t be serious. “W-woah what?!” You say incredulously, “N-no that’s definitely not it. They’re just…” your words trail off into nothing as you begin to think of any other reason as to why your friend and Thanos threw you into a locked room with Nam-gyu.

“They’re just what?!” He asks turning back to face you fully, his pupils were blown, his eyes wide and nervous. “You’re so fucking naïve you know that?” He huffs, exasperated. He’s standing up off the bed and pacing around the room a couple times before he stands in front of you. You’re looking at him with an even more confused look, your eyebrows twisted into a look of hurt at his description of you. “I-“ your words are caught in your throat as you stare up at him from your spot on the bed.

“I ran my fucking mouth and told Thanos I wanted to fuck you. He was fed up of me talking about it and sick of nothing happening, me not doing anything about it- that he forced us in here to urge something to happen.” He’s rambling, his hands running through his hair, it looks like his world was crumbling. It’s like he genuinely thought you had no interest in him what so ever.

“Y-you want to fuck me?” You ask, like you misheard him- an uneasy, questioning tone in your voice as if you thought you made everything he said up and now you’re embarrassed you have to ask for clarification. He laughs, striding forward and planting his hands on the bed on either side of your thighs. He’s bent down, face level with yours, “Yes. I don’t know how you haven’t fucking seen it. I’ve beat my fucking dick to the thought of you for months.” He’s responding.

Your mouth drops open, you really don’t think he’s realizing what he’s saying- but to you this is all new news. You never thought he had any attraction to you so you never wanted to push yourself on him. Sure you found him attractive- fuck, he was so attractive- but you never would have thought he’d want to be with someone like you. You were tame compared to the rest of the crowd he found himself around. You figured he’d want a wild party girl. “I had no idea…” you mutter, looking at him like you’ve been bestowed the secrets of the universe.

He laughs, it’s almost mocking, “Of course you didn’t…” he’s looking over your face for any sort of reciprocation in your face but when he finds none and only finds confusion and surprise, he’s stepping back from you, realizing what he just admitted to and goes violently red. “L-look I’m sorry, just forget I s-said anything and we can just sit here until they unlock the fucking door.” He’s rambling again, thinking he royally fucked everything up. He didn’t know how to talk to girls, let alone you. You were different than any of the drugged out girls he’s fucked- and there wasn’t many.

You’re launching yourself off the bed and making your way over to him. You’re grabbing the sides of his jacket and yanking him downwards. You’re kissing him with months of pent up emotion. He’s fumbling, he’s not really sure what to do. His lips are messy against yours, his hands hovering in the air above your hips. When you release his jacket to cup his face in both of your hands- steadying him and grounding him to reality. He falls into a steadier rhythm, his hands placing themselves on your hips.

His hands are shaking on your hips, it’s endearing. He finally falls into a pattern that has your head swimming, you’re melting into him, beginning to moan softly into his mouth. The sounds you make send lightning up his spine, it’s better than he ever imagined. He’s backing you up to the bed, your knees connect with the edge of the bed and you both fall onto the plush mattress.

His hands reattach themselves to your waist, pushing up your sweater to run his hands along your skin. Your warmth against his hands makes him moan into your mouth. You can feel his erection against your stomach already. Was he really already worked up? You really had no idea how he could be. You didn’t see yourself as an overly sexual person so the idea that he was so utterly, sexually, attracted to you didn’t sit in your mind.

But you’re letting out a blissful sigh at his touch, your lips moving feverishly against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits as he pulls away, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, his hand slipping up your sweater to grope at your breasts. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, letting out a soft moan at just the feeling of the soft flesh in his hands like he’s never touched a breast in his life.

The whole thing just makes you twitch under him, arching your back into his touch. “Can’t believe you wanted this…would have made a move so much sooner..” he says in a daydreaming voice, like you’re only a figment of his imagination.

You reach up and grab his face and pull him in to kiss you again. He’s caught off guard, a gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips. You pull back with a giggle, “You were rambling.” He shakes his head chuckling and leaning back in to kiss you again, “My bad..couldn’t help it.” He says, lips molding with yours once again.

This time the kiss is more smooth, he’s carful and kissing you with a swiftness that has your mind reeling. You’re moaning into his mouth and arching up into his hand that still works at your breast. His mouth parts, his tongue licking at your lips. You eagerly part your lips, your tongue twirling with his in a mess of mixed saliva.

When he pulls back he’s staring down at your kiss swollen lips and blissed out expression, he thinks he must of won the lottery, this right here- you- you were the jackpot. He’s quickly pushing up your sweater and pulling down your bralette. When your tits fall free of the confines, jiggling as they settle, his cock jumps in his boxers.

Your arms quickly cross over your chest, on instinct, to try and cover yourself. He chuckles at your reaction, it’s cute, so innocent, it just makes his cock strain harder in his jeans. “C’mon….lemme see.” He whines, it’s like a kid who’s pouting. “S’not fair. You’re still clothed.” You say, a pout forming on your lips.

It’s almost comical the speed at which he gets up off the bed and hastily shrugs his jacket off, pulls off his shirt and drops his pants to the ground. You’re giggling as he nearly trips over his jeans as he kicks them off, climbing back onto the bed and straddling your form. “Can I see now?” He begs, leaning down to kiss you quickly, “please…” he whispers, kissing you again. His voice has a whining lilt to it that has your arms falling away from your chest and your head turning away so you didn’t have to look at him.

“Fucking hell…” he breathes out with a soft laugh of disbelief. His hands return to their spot, one hand on each breast, but this time his movements are soft, he gently kneads your tits before brushing his thumbs lightly over your nipples, he’s fixated on the way they begin to harden into soft peaks under his touch. “Perfect set of tits…” he’s mumbling, more to himself than you before he’s lowering his head and wrapping his lips around your nipple.

You’ve had sex a couple times, but truthfully it’s been with shitty men who, as you now come to find out, didn’t pay hardly enough attention to you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt the feeling of someone’s mouth and tongue working at your breasts like they were some divine offering that’s been bestowed upon them. But that’s exactly what Nam-gyu is doing. Your back is arching off the bed, your hand coming to cradle his head to your chest.

He looks up to you while his mouth is latched onto your nipple, tongue ruthlessly flicking over the hard peak as he surveys your every reaction. The way your eyebrows furrow and upturn, the way you bit your cheek more than your lip when you’re trying to silence your moans. He realizes then that you obviously hadn’t had much experience- the little pleasure he’s giving you now already has you a mess. And he loves it.

He pulls off of your nipple with a wet ‘pop’, moving his face back to be level with yours. He connects your lips with his, kissing you with months of built up tension that you can feel he’s pouring into the kiss. It’s frenzied, it’s needy, it’s desperate. When you two break for air, his hands are playing with the waist band of your sweatpants. You can feel the way his hands nervously shake- just ever so slightly. It makes you feel a little better- he’s just as nervous as you were.

He looks to where his fingertips slip below the fabric of your sweatpants, then back up to you. You both sit there in silence for a minute, it’s awkward- but you’re both nervous, both overly excited.

“We can sto-“ He begins to speak first, you frantically cut him off by lifting your hips up off the bed and speaking “No, no! P-please, continue.” You whine desperately, finally finding your voice when the threat of this possibly ending hung in the air.

He visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping as he laughs a bit, trying to slow his heart rate. He’s leaning down and kissing you again as he begins to pull your sweatpants off your legs. You help by kicking them off your feet, both of you fumbling to get the fabric off. You’re both laughing into the kiss. Once he finally pulls the sweatpants fully off of you and tossing them into a corner to the room, he’s focusing more on the kiss.

He stops laughing, slowing the speed of the kiss down to a languid pace that allows you to feel every micro-movement of the kiss. His hands run up your bare legs, feeling your bare skin along his finger tips. He pulls away from the kiss to look down at your legs. You’re wearing a cute set of panties, they’re a light blue with little daisies spores around the fabric. Christ, just when he thought you couldn’t get any better.

He’s moving himself to be kneeling in between your legs, hands running up your legs and pulling you closer to him, letting your legs hand loosely around his hips, your cunt resting tight against the tent in his boxers. He’s observing you like any movement he could make may send you running, it’s makes you try and shrink back into the plush mattress.

You look so perfect like this, he thinks. You’re splayed out on the bed, hair spread around you like some halo, your hips lifted upwards by where he held you, and your hands were gripping the hem of your large sweatshirt to try and pull it down over your panties. You looked so innocent.

“You look good…don’t have to hide.” He hums, hands running up your thighs in a soothing motion- yet you can still feel the slight jitter in his touch. It’s endearing. You slowly drop your hands from the sweater and opt to grip the bed sheets in a white-knuckled grip instead. “I w-wanna make you feel good.” He chokes out, his voice nervously cracking.

You bite your lip and nod, “mhm..o-okay.” You say, your hips mindlessly starting to shift against his cock, dragging your warm cunt along his shaft. You watch as he grits his teeth and his grip on your hips tighten. He thinks he could have cum right there in his boxers when he felt the way your pussy wrapped around his length through your panties. You felt so dirty, you’ve never been this vulgar with anyone. Your movements were experimental, moving purely off instinct.

He’s gripping the sides of your panties, fingers pulling at the elastic, he pauses looking back up to you for some sign to continue. You nod again, “f-fuck please.” You whine out. He’s pulling your panties down and throwing them in an unknown location in the room like your pants. When he finally gets to see your bare cunt, his cock is jumping, visibly, in his boxers. “Fucking hell.” He’s mumbling, hands coming to grip at your inter thighs and push them apart. “I-“ he chokes on his words, he wasn’t nothing more than to say something suave that has you melting into his palms- but he can’t.

The sight of your glistening cunt makes his mind go blank. He really thought that maybe sometime down the line he may have got lucky and made out with you- never in his life expected to get to see your perfect pink cunt- and here we was, at a VIP seat, front and center to a show he’s been dreaming about for months.

“Stop looking at it like that…” you whine, hiding behind your hands once again. He finally realizes how hard he was staring and shakes his head with a bashful laugh. “‘M sorry I can’t help it…” he says, his hands massaging your inner thighs, pulling at the flesh to spread you open better. He sucks in a sharp breath, when he sees your pink cunt and your tight entrance clenching around nothing, the idea of sinking in your cute cunt was enough to make him nearly cum in his boxers for what felt like the 6th time in under thirty minutes.

“It’s so embarrassing…” you whine, your bottom lip catching between your teeth as your eyes are locked on him- watching in anticipation of what he’s going to do next. “S’not….” He mumbles, bending over to place a kiss on your hip. He’s glad you only see it as foreplay, because in reality he’s stalling. He knows if he fucks you right now or even touches your pussy- he’s going to cum.

The countless nights of beating his dick to the idea of you, looking up porn videos only to imagine that it was you and him reenacting the scenes that made his dick so hard- none of it compared to the real thing. He spent weeks conjuring up all the smooth things he’d whisper into your ear if he ever got the chance to fuck you. All that practice was for nothing because when he’s here, having the opportunity, and seeing the real thing- his minds blank, he’s choking on his words, he can hardly speak.

“I’ve dreamed of this…” he hums out, his eyes darting all over your body. “For months….you being in this exact position…” he adds, you’re sure he doesn’t realize how his clothed cock begins to grind hard against your pussy. Your arousal beginning to make a dark patch in his boxers. He does this for a few moments, simply just looking at you and rocking his erection against your cunt. You reach a hand out, nails raking against his abdomen. “F-fuck, please…” you whisper out a breathy voice, eyebrows upturned in a pleading expression. “Nam-Gyu I need you to touch me…p-please.”

His mind is shrouded by a lust he’s never known before. The sweet tone of your pleading voice causing his eyes to roll back. He draws in a hissing breath, opening his eyes to look down at you. He begins to move, adjusting himself. He lays flat on the bed, his hands still holding your thighs open. He levels his face with your soaking pussy, his breath fanning over your folds.

When he looks up at you from between your thighs, he sees your worried expression, almost bordering on unease. “You okay?” He asks, his voice oddly soft, his chin resting on your stomach. You nod frantically, your face flushed red. “Y-yes!” You fumbled out, trying to show that you did want this. “I just uh-“ you swallow thickly “I know I said I wasn’t a virgin…and I’m not…but I’ve never uh…” you say, your eyes looking everywhere but him.

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever eaten your cunt before.” He says, his eyes wide with surprise. You squeak and cover your face in embarrassment, “Ugh don’t say it like that!” You say bashfully. You look at him through your fingers and slowly bring your hand down, you finally nod. “Y-yes no one’s ever…eaten me out.” It sounds weird to say, it almost makes you cringe.

He looks like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing ever, like he doesn’t believe you. But with the way you’re closing your thighs to try and shield your pussy from him and can’t even say the act yourself tells him you’re not lying. “Oh my god…” he says with bewilderment, “There’s no way no one’s ever wanted to eat your perfect pussy before…” he mutters, his hands releasing his hold on your hips to push at your knees, forcing your legs open so he can properly see you.

You want to close your legs and sink into the pillows, try to avoid his gaze but the way he looks at your cunt, pupils blown and mouth parted, you don’t, instead your arching your hips up like you’re trying to chase his mouth. “I mean really…” he muses, his hands running up your thighs, pushing them open further. His hands stop on your inner thighs, thumbs pulling at your labias and pulling you open obscenely wide. It makes you whine, embarrassed. You don’t think you’ve ever been in this vulnerable before, this exposed.

“Cute pussy like this…” he adds, his thumbs beginning to run up and down the sides of your cunt, watching as you spill even more arousal, “Better than any porn I’ve seen… better than I imagined.”

You’re sure if he wasn’t so entranced by your pussy he’d be embarrassed by what he said, openly comparing you to the porn he watches so frequently- even saying you’re better. He’s looking at your cunt like he’s a complete virgin who’s never seen a pussy in his life. It just makes you more hot.

He’s placing a kiss on your clit, his eyes rolling back and a moan falling from his lips when he feels you jolt against the bed. He pulls back, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips clean of the wetness that covered his lip.

It’s like something inside him snaps when he gets his first taste of you. He’s situating himself quickly, laying flat on the bed and his hands sliding under your thighs to wrap themselves around your plush thighs. He’s diving into your pussy, tongue spread wide as he messily laps at your folds. Your hand instantly flys to grip onto his hair, calling out a choked gasp of his name that only makes him begin to devour you faster.

He’s so fucking sloppy, there’s no real technique. You can tell he’s doing it to simply taste you, to lather his tongue in your arousal. He’s using his hands on your thighs to guide your hips to grind on his tongue like he’s coaxing more of your saccharine arousal out of your cunt. Even with the sporadic messy movements it has you writhing underneath him.

“O-oh fuck.” You cry out, eyebrows turned upwards in pleasure and your hand comes to grip at his hair. He’s moaning into your cunt, sending vibrations over your clit. “Taste so fuckin good.” He’s mumbling against your pussy. “Can’t believe I’m the first one to taste this sweet cunt.” His words make your eyes screw shut and your face flush red. The vulgarity of the words making you feel hotter than before, you never thought that such words would only cause your cunt to throb even harder.

His tongue licks a long strip up the entirety of your cunt, stopping at your clit to circle over it a couple times, he sucks it into his mouth, eyes looking up at the way your chest heaves and your eyes screw shut. It’s adorable really, the new sensation he’s introducing you to seeming like it’s almost too much for you. He’s thankful you seem to be enjoying yourself because admittedly…he’s using techniques he’s seen on the porn videos he watched. “O-oh my god…f-feel so- hah!” You’re right words are cut off by a high pitched squeal, your hips jolting against his face. “You like that? That feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy.

You nod, hand gripping tighter at his hair, “Y-yes just like that!” You’re sobbing out. His tongue is vicious, licking at your cunt like a dog lapping at spring water on a hot day. When you manage to collect yourself enough to lift your head up to look down at him another moan falls from your lips at the sight. His eyes are screwed shut in concentration, listening to every sound you let out to make sure he’s doing it right, and he’s fucking his cock into the mattress of the bed. You can see the way his hips grind into the comforter rubbing his cock along the fabric of his boxers and the bed, moaning into your pussy.

“Oh my god….holy fuck…” you say breathlessly, your head falling back to the pillows, your eyes rolling back. Your hips grind into his tongue and he lets you do whatever you need- letting you use his hair to drag you up and down your cunt. You’re blinded by pleasure, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, all you know is it feels so fucking good.

He still thinks he had to be dreaming or maybe that he was far too high because never in his life did he think he would get to devour a cunt like yours. He was eternally thankful that no one else had done this before him, no one had eaten you out- because truth be told he was nowhere near perfect at the craft. He was messy, no real technique, becoming too excited to have his face in your pussy that he was focused on tasting you rather than coaxing an orgasm out of you. But it still felt so good. He couldn’t help but to fuck his cock into the mattress, he was so hard it was painful. Every mouthful of your arousal he swallows makes the throbbing worse.

You know this was a thing that could be done during sex- but you didn’t have a long rap sheet. A few men at most who were lack luster at best- and none of them did this. None of them gave you the pleasure of having a tongue lathing over your sweet cunt. Even if his tongue was erratic and inexperienced, it still caused your back to arch heavenward and you to cry out a slurred moan of his name.

He’s pulling away from your pussy in a mess of your arousal, his tongue hanging out as he’s panting. “L-look I-“ his breath catches in his throat, words cut short by a soft whine ripping through his throat, his hips still humping the bed. “I’m gonna cum inside my f-fucking boxers if I keep eating your pussy, I-i gotta be inside you..” he’s saying, almost pleading. He’s crawling back up your dazed form and hovering over your face.

You meet his gaze, you’re inches apart- breathing in each other’s air. You can see his face glistening with your juices, his lips swollen and red- just like your cunt. He wants to kiss you, but something stops him. He’s nervous and he fucking hates it. He was just tongue fucking your pussy and now he’s nervous to kiss you?! What kind of fucking sick round about anxiety is that. It’s so weird to him…the way you look up at him with such an innocent look- like you’re not staining the sheets below you- it drives him absolutely insane.

You look up at him like a deer and headlights and bite your lip, letting out a nervous but desperate ‘mhm! mhm!”, grabbing his face and giving in to the temptation you’ve had since you seen his face covered in your arousal. You pull him into a hungry kiss. It was so filthy, unlike anything you’ve done. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue he’s moaning into your mouth in high pitched, muffled whine. The heat you feel within your lower stomach is a new powerful sensation that makes you start canting your hips upward in the air, trying to get sensation from something that isn’t there.

His hands are all over you, mapping out your body under his finger tips, groping at your body like he could never get enough- and he couldn’t. One of his hands departs from your flesh as he fumbles with his boxers. He’s pulling them down hastily and throwing them to the side. You want to pull away and give him the same treatment he gave you, but you can’t. He’s gripping your waist and flipping the two of you over, settling you on his lower thighs. You’re letting out a surprised squeak and falling forward onto his chest.

His hands smooth down the expanse of your body. Down your shoulder blades, the curve of your back, the plush of your hips, and then finally settling on your ass. His nails dig into the flesh, his head tilting back and he’s groaning. He needs to feel your ass bounce against him as you ride him- he feels like he’d die if he doesn’t get it soon. You look down at his stomach and whine when you see his thick cock.

For someone who was so…awkward and standoffish, the massive cock between his legs has your heart speeding up even more. You would think with something like that…he’d be fucking girls left and right. But he wasn’t, he was weird, and that excited you. The weird boy with a monster cock. You’re sure you haven’t ever had one this big, you’re almost nervous to take it.

You are nervous.

You experimentally shift your hips up, placing your cunt on his thick length, the warm wetness that envelops the underside of his cock makes his whole body jolt underneath you. And when you roll your hips, dragging your sweet cunt up and down his length, soft folds caressing his girth- his chest is rising and falling in heavy breaths and his hands move up from your ass to your hips, grip bruising as his head falls back into the pillows.

“I-if you keep that up I-i’ll cum before I even fuck you.” He admits through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched. Despite what he said, his hips move in motion with yours, with every grind of your hips your clit drags against the veins that run along the underside of his cock. “I-I’m not sure it will fit…” you mumble, embarrassed but telling the truth.

He stiffens and lets out a pornographic moan. You had no idea what you’re doing to him. The way you said it tells him you truly don’t know the effect those words would have on him. You said it so innocently, you weren’t even trying to tease him. He couldn’t decide if that made it worse or better because he is fighting everything in him not to cum just from your words alone like some pathetic virgin.

“F-fuck!” He growls out, canting his hips upwards so the tip of his cock head presses ever so slightly into the tight entrance of your cunt before sliding upwards to rub against your clit. “It-it’ll fit.” He nods frantically,

His hands lifting you up just the slightest bit. “Mhm…yeah you- fuck… you can take it…” he’s mumbling, and you realize he’s not even talking to you at this point- he’s talking to your pussy.

You’re whining, pulling the sweatshirt you still had on up with one hand so you could look between your legs and see the spectacle before you. You’re slowly sinking down onto him, when the fat tip of his cock pushes into you, a silent cry comes from your lips. Nam-gyu is fairing no better, when he feels your cunt begin to wrap around his cock he’s tossing his head back and letting out a moan that’s mixed with a laugh of disbelief.

You were a fucking dream. Perfect, even. He felt like he was tainting you, defiling the sweet innocence you carry. It’s an exhilarating feeling. You sink down lower on his thick cock, sucking him into your sopping cunt. “O-oh my f-fucking god.” You moan out, the stretch of your pussy around his cock sending jolts of pleasure and a burning pain up your spine. It’s a feeling that you’re immediately addicted to and want more of. “Y-you’re so g-god damn tight…” he says, you’re breath hitches at the tone, whiny- almost pathetic- like you’re cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock.

You’re lowering yourself down faster, you can see he’s only halfway in and yet it feels like he’s ripping you apart. “O-oh s-shit.” Nam-gyu growls, lifting his head up off the bed, eyebrows knitted together. His hands clutch your hips in a painful force that stops your hips from moving further down his throbbing length. “S-slow the fuck down. O-ho my f-fucking god.” He spits out between heaving breaths. You can see his stomach tense up, his nose scrunched and eyes screwed shut. He has to give himself the moment to breathe, to collect himself so he can fully enjoy what your cunt has to offer him. He does not want to cum quick…he cannot ruin this.

Your hands plant themselves on his chest, falling forward a bit. Your hips swivel in the air, grinding onto the part of his cock that’s already in you. “P-please I want to feel all of you.” You whine in a soft plea. He’s groaning, removing his hands off your hips to bring them up to his face, rubbing his palms against his flesh as he allows you to do take more of him into your tight walls. You sink down more, nails digging at the skin of his chest as he fills you. He’s moaning behind his hands, shielding his face from you as you finally take him all the way into your pussy. Your pelvis connecting with his with a soft wet ‘smack’.

Echoing moans fill the room, his hands coming to grip at your hips rapidly, holding you down like you were going to get up and leave him.

“‘S so big.”

“Fuck you’re s-so t-tight.”

You two speak at the same time in the same breathless tone. The feeling of him fully sheathed into your tight pussy is one that you could never, ever replicate. He’s reaching so deep inside you, you can feel his tip prod at your cervix. He’s splitting you open in a wicked way, ruining you. Nam-gyu opens his eyes and tilts his head to look down at where your pussy rests flush against his pelvis. Already, you’re leaking onto his skin, coating his skin in a sheen of milky-white arousal.

You lean even further forward, resting your forearms near the sides of his head on the pillow below him. You pick your hips up, the slow drag of his cock against your walls has you wincing and biting back a pathetic whine. You drop back down, the two of you moaning out in tandem. The addictive feeling of his cock completely impaling you makes you repeat the motion. Over and over and over. You’re vicious, picking up the pace with each drop of your hips. You don’t even seem to realize the effect you have on him, all you’re focused on is just how good it feels.

“F-fuck s-slow down….” Nam-Gyu is practically begging. “G-gotta savor it, y-yeah?” He tries to reason with you, but you don’t seem to oblige. You collapse forward completely, head resting in the crook of his neck. You’re shaking your head ‘no’ against him, hips driving up and down on his cock with no restraint. An obscene, wet, sloppy, slapping sound fills the room each time you slam your hips back down onto his, driving his cock deep inside your pussy.

When you disregard his plea and do exactly the opposite he swears he might have to marry you- he’d never say that openly though. His hands move to your ass, gripping the flesh until small crescents form where his nails dig into the soft skin. In his hands, he can feel the way the fat of your ass bounces, rippling underneath his palms every time you move. He’s using his hands as leverage to help lift you up and down, heightening the pleasure you’re experiencing even more.

In the minimal experience you’ve had, it’s always been painfully vanilla- always missionary. You don’t understand why you’ve never done this sooner, the way his cock dives so deep into you, reaching places no one else has reached before- it’s making you dumb. Your mind is blank, your vision hazy- all you can think about it’s reaching your climax. And every, delicious drop of your ass onto his pelvis pushes you closer and closer to that sweet release.

You two don’t even care about the fact there’s a whole group of people downstairs or even potentially listening in on what’s happening in the room. Moans, whines, and heavy breaths bounce off the walls- surely echoing throughout the studio you’re getting railed in.

“F-feels s-so g-good.” You cry out, your lips right next to his ear, each word broken up by you bouncing down on his cock. You push yourself up a bit to look at the man below you. Nam-gyu is just as fucked out as you are if not more. When he feels you sit up his eyes open, being greeted with the beautiful sight of your tits bouncing in his face with each thrust. He can’t help himself, he’s forcing his head and upper body up off the bed to latch his mouth on your chest. His teeth and tongue are working in a devious partnership against your skin, marking your flesh in blue, red and purple marks.

He pulls away from your breasts, head falling back onto the pillows, his hands tightening on your ass as he begins to fuck himself up into you. “Y-you have n-no fucking….god damn….no fucking clue how good you f-feel.” He rasps out, “riding m-me so we-well.” His voice is cracking, becoming higher pitched, he’s close. The dirty words and praise, though not spoken with a deep raspy voice, makes you lean back forward to hide your face in his neck to avoid eye contact.

You sink into his body, your back arching more. It allows your hips to snap down onto his in a barbaric way. Nam-gyu moans out your name. Hearing his name fall your lips is a nearly angelic song that has your eyes fluttering shut. He can hardly take it, he’s sure if you kept this up he was going to be ridden to tears.

He can’t hold back anymore, the tight squeeze of your cunt and the way you are coating his cock, it’s too much- he’s going to cum. “P-please let me… ohmygod… l-let me cum inside..” he’s whining into your ear, your nails dig in harder to his chest at his words. You hear him let out a strangled gasp when your cunt clenches down on him, “o-oh fuck you liked that?!” He asks breathlessly, his cock still jackhammering up into you. “You like the idea of me cumming in your pussy? Fuckin’ squeezing me so hard when i-im talking about it” He asks again, rambling in a needy tone. The words have you cringing in embarrassment- never in your life did you think the idea would turn you on- but it does.

You’re nodding into his shoulder, a weak and breathless “yes, I-inside” coming from your lips, your hair tickling his neck. “Oh my god y-yes, f-fuck thankyouthankyou.” He’s babbling out. He shifts, bending his knees and planting his feet on the bed. He begins to drill is cock up into your cunt. It’s a pace that has you crying out into his neck, jolting against his body mindlessly. His grip on your ass is bruising, he’s using the flesh as leverage to drag you down on his thick length. “Gonna feel so f-fucking good to fill you up. Fuck! Cunts’ gonna look so good with my cum spilling out.”

He’s mindlessly babbling, the feeling of your tight cunt gripping his dick like a vice has him in a dumb haze. All he can think about is cumming balls deep inside your walls. “Y-you close?” He asks, his shoulder nudging your face to get you to pull your head up to look at him. You use all your strength to sit up, looking down at him. Your hair falls down the sides of your face, shielding him in a low light that makes him look even more attractive, highlighting his sharp features and darkening his eyes even more than they were.

You nod, your hand splaying out on his sternum to keep yourself upright. You look down at him and nod, your body bouncing with watch thrust. You let out a ‘uh-huh.’ through your bit lip, your orgasm beginning to blossom from deep within you. Every time his fat cock-head bullies its way deep inside your cunt, brushing against your g-spot to kiss against your cervix, you’re letting out a wanton cry of his name.

“C-cum for me…f-fuck…need to feel you soak my cock.” One of his hands is slipping in between the two of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit, flicking against the sensitive bud in rapid motions. “F-fuck! Nam-gyu! Oh my fucking god!” You cry out, your eyebrows turning up as you feel yourself about to cum. He doesn’t let up, he’s brutally thrusting into your cunt a wet sloshing sound begins to come from your cunt.

It feels different than any orgasm you’ve had, you’ve never felt something like this. It almost feels like too much. You almost think you’re going to pee. “W-wait ‘s too much!” You’re whining out, despite your protests your hips are rutting against his fingers and slamming back into each one of his thrusts. “F-fuck are you gonna squirt??” He asks with a proud grin on his face- you really were just like his dreams.

“W-what?” You struggle to get out. Fuck you just got even better, so innocent you don’t even know what’s about to happen. He’s only seen it in porn, and he’s watched enough of it to know the signs- the way your cunt keeps getting louder and the way you’re beginning to shake violently- he knows what’s about to happen. But you don’t and it’s so fucking cute.

“Relax. L-let go, ‘s normal.” He rasps out, fingers working quicker at your clit and his cock piledriving up into your sopping hole with no remorse. You have no other option but to listen to him. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, you’re falling forward onto him and sobbing out into his neck. Your orgasm is so much harder than anyone than before, your cum gushing out of you like a fountain. Anytime he thrusts into you it splashes out of you in a lewd spray that coats the sheets below you.

The way your cunt is sucking his cock in like you’re trying to milk him and spasming violently around him sends him hurling towards his end. You can feel the way his thick load fills you, every rope painting your insides white. He lazily continues to thrust up into you, trying to drag out his orgasm and yours. You can feel his cum spill out of you and around his cock only for the next thrust to fuck it back into you.

You’re panting into his neck, soft moans falling from your lips as his softening cock grinds into you. He thinks he’s in heaven and he never wants to leave. His legs flatten out, dropping you all the way down on his lap. You whine, overstimulated. He’s running a hand up your back in a soothing motion. “I k-know..please…just want to be inside you a little longer.” He coos in a pleading voice. You don’t oppose, you just nod limply into his neck, lips placing light kisses on his skin. It was an honest innocent gesture, but when he feels your lips against his skin his cock is begging to harden inside you.

You two have been far too focused on other things to notice that when you were locked in this room- you weren’t actually locked in. Thanos and your friend only stayed to hold the door for a couple minutes, the drugs downstairs calling to them louder than the idea of keeping the door shut. The door would have been able to be opened by the time you born first sat down on the bed.

The loser!namgyu / awkward!namgyu is becoming a fave of mine. It’s so fucking fun to write!!! He’s so ummy 😩. I hope all you Loser!namgyu lovers enjoyed!!! - <3 kiwi

Queue for the next 5 upcoming requests: DeadbeadBabydaddy! Namgyu x reader smut , Namgyu x reader angst into fluff , Myung-Gi x reader x Thanos smut , Sub!Needy!Nam-gyu x reader x Thanos , Thanos x reader smut

If you don’t see your request on the queue just yet, don’t fret 🫶 I’m working my way through them and after each one is posted the queue will update to the next 5 requests that I have in my inbox. I try my best to work in the order of which they were received. Requests are still open just be aware that it will take a bit for me to get to it, but I absolutely will get to it!

#nam gyu #namgyu fanfic #squid game fanfic #namgyu smut #player124 smut #namgyu x reader #player124 #namgyu x y/n smut #namgyu x reader smut #nam gyu smut #nam gyu x reader smut #player 124 x reader smut #player 124 x reader #player124 x reader smut #x reader squid games #squid game smut #squid games namgyu x reader #squid game fanfiction #squid games namgyu x reader smut

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luffydotcom · 3 days ago

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love languages

synopsis: what i think the love languages of different one piece characters are (platonic/romantic)

feat: luffy, zoro, usopp, nami, sanji, ace, law

notes: i feel like love languages can be interpreted in both platonic or romantic ways, so i tried to mix it up, but feel free to interpret it how you will!

warnings: slight spoilers for sanji's (full) backstory (?)

luffy

physical touch. LUFFY is big-hearted and compassionate, sending love to everyone he comes across on his journey often without even meaning to. he is very attached to the people he loves - and very much physically.

luffy is always seen hanging off the arms of zoro, wrapping himself around nami, sitting close to robin when she reads, it's his way of making those around him feel loved and protected.

although he isn't massively clingy to the point where he won't allow you to have your own space, expect a degree of clinginess! physical affection is how he expresses his love towards others as well as what brings him comfort. he is a huge hugger: hugging comforts him when he feels sad, but also helps him comfort those he cares about.

zoro

quality time + acts of service. due to ZORO being reserved, he doesn't often say much - these love languages don't often require words for showing and receiving love.

quality time matters a lot to zoro. even if it's just sitting in silence, a small conversation, training together, or walking outside, he enjoys having someone by his side in these moments as the time spent together shows a level of love and commitment in the friendship or relationship.

zoro strongly values loyalty. spending quality time with him shows that you care strongly about being together and genuinely enjoy being next to him even in the smallest of moments. he likes that he doesn't always have to say things to keep it interesting, sometimes just having someone there can feel very loving and he appreciates that.

zoro is big on actions - if he seriously loves you, he's always got your back and would go to the greatest lengths to show it. he would practically level an army for someone he loves and then act like it's nothing at all. he treats people he loves with a priority and wants to ensure that they are safe and protected.

nami

giving/receiving gifts. for NAMI, i feel like this is a given, but this doesn't mean she is ultra-materialistic and that gifts are the only way to her heart!

when nami was young, she never asked for or expected anything, and lived in a life of poverty. to receive gifts from someone she loves would make her whole world, as it's something she was never able to experience when she was younger. she loves receiving gifts especially when they are well thought-out and gifted with love and consideration.

however, she also expresses love through giving gifts. although nami always jokes about the crew owing her money and needing to pay her back at high interest, she seriously would never trade friendship or love for money. if it's for someone she loves, she would gladly use the money instead to help them or spoil them affectionately with gifts.

usopp

words of affirmation. USOPP feels loved by hearing words that make him feel grounded and secure.

usopp is insecure, unsure of his place in the crew as well as insecure of his lack of strength compared to those around him. he has an inferiority complex - hearing words of affirmation remind him that he is good enough and that there is no need to compare himself to others.

usopp is a liar, yes - but he just wants to be believed in. words of affirmation make him feel sure of himself and that there is no need to lie about who he is. he feels the most loved and validated when someone accepts him for his true self underneath the lies, as this allows him to become more confident in his own skin.

however, he also uses words of affirmation to show his support and care of others. usopp is full of stories (although most of them are fictional), and would use his words to cheer you up in your hardest moments.

sanji

words of affirmation + acts of service. SANJI expresses love by giving his all, but never expecting to receive any love in return - words of affirmation and acts of service give him the love he never knew he needed.

sanji's traumatic childhood of being told that he was a failure and that he shouldn't have been born by his biological family caused him to feel unworthy of love. words of affirmation make him feel deserving of love and care after feeling worthless all his life.

sanji is extremely selfless, going to great lengths to protect and give to the people he loves. he goes out of his way to do acts of service for his friends but feels selfish asking for anything in return. acts of service give him the love he has been missing - going out of your way to do things for him, big or small, makes him feel loved as he feels reassured that his existence is not a burden and that it's not selfish to want things for himself, like favours or help.

sanji will always offer words of affirmation and shower you with compliments to remind you of how much he loves and admires you. he is also very emotionally aware and highly sensitive to the needs of others - he expresses this through acts of service (especially with cooking!) to show his care to who he loves, especially if they need it.

ace

physical touch + words of affirmation. ACE resembles luffy in many ways, he is very physical displaying and receiving love. but besides affection, he needs assurance through words that he deserves love.

ace loves physical touch and is very playful when displaying affection. he loves a good hug, kiss, tickle fight, cuddle, hair ruffle, you name it - he finds it fun and feels like it's the easiest way to let someone know he cares about them or loves them. although he is well-mannered and not as rowdy as he was when he was little, he can be when he's affectionate.

however, ace is also similar to sanji in the sense that he is extremely self-sacrificing and would put his life on the line for those he loves. he needs words of affirmation to remind him that his life is valued and that he shouldn't throw it away selflessly because he deserves to live and be loved.

ace also cares deeply about others' happiness, he would definitely use words of affirmation to comfort you during hard times or to build up your confidence and remind you of how much he loves and cares about you.

law

acts of service + quality time. similar to zoro, LAW s very reserved and introverted. he isn't so sure how to show or receive love in the typical way, and has his own ways of doing so, mainly based on actions opposed to words.

law is very practical. he cares a lot about being efficient and doing things right because of his role as the captain (and doctor) of the crew. acts of service such as favours or giving him a helping hand mean a lot to him as someone who is always busy and working. he also expresses his love towards others through acts of service, such as protecting or aiding others when they are injured. he is not the most emotionally expressive, so his love language is deeply rooted in doing opposed to saying.

law also highly values quality time as he feels as though meaningful interactions with a friend/partner make the relationship strong and connected. having deep, meaningful conversations with him or supporting him in difficult moments let him know that he can trust you and that you care about him.

#one piece #anime #monkey d. luffy #luffy #op headcanons #zoro #roronoa zoro #sanji #nami #usopp #portgas d ace #trafalgar law #law #fanfic #headcanons #one piece headcanons #x reader #zoro x reader #luffy x reader

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meadowfics · 2 days ago

Text

blood on your hands

kang dae ho x f!reader

in which you commit an act so unforgivable, yet reasonable

warnings: murder, death, nsfw!! 18+, minors please dni. smut with plot. oral (dh receiving). switch!daeho. switch!reader. praise. no PinV. VERY long chapter. dark chapter. original plot changes. y/n is used. reader is player 099. reader is the murderer. established relationship with dae-ho before the games. this takes place after the mingle games. the original character in this fic is player 123. I am not responsible for the content you choose to read after you hit, "keep reading"

4.6k words

the bathroom is a mess of bodies and tension.

the air thick with sweat, fear, disgusting body waste, and the sharp buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights. the guards stand at the entrance, their rifles slung carelessly over their shoulders, barely paying attention.

they know no one is dumb enough to try anything here, not after the mingle game.

a game in which you barely survived too.

anyways, you should be focusing on keeping jun-hee safe, making sure she gets in and out of here without trouble, but your mind keeps circling back to dae-ho.

your man.

the love of your life.

the marine’s voice is still fresh in your ears.

"stay safe, no heroics."

all of the women were assigned to all go to the bathroom before lights out. you had smiled at him, something small, something just for him.

"i’ll be okay,"

you had promised, squeezing his hand.

"i'll stay with jun-hee the whole time."

he hadn't liked it. you could tell by the way his jaw clenched, by the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he wanted to argue but knew it would only make things harder. he is super protective about you, even before the games back at home.

in the end, he let you go, but not before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering like he was trying to memorize you.

"come back to me."

you had nodded. you always would.

the two of you had been together for years. your relationship wasn’t new, wasn’t fragile. it was something built, something strong, something that had withstood everything life had thrown at you before the games.

this?

this was different.

this was a nightmare neither of you had ever prepared for.

when you first locked eyes after red light, green light, it felt like the world had cracked open. neither of you had known the other would be here.

neither of you had imagined, in your worst nightmares, that this was how you’d meet again after not seeing each other for days.

after meeting the salesman, the both of you had a plan to pay off each other's debts. unaware that the other had the same exact plan too.

the first game, dae-ho had stormed across the bloodstained ground, past the trembling bodies of the survivors, past the bodies that would never move again, and grabbed you like you were slipping through his fingers.

“why are you here?"

his voice had been raw, panicked.

"how…why…"

"why are you here?"

you had shot back, just as desperate, just as lost.

you both had kept your struggles quieter than you should have, thinking you could handle them alone. thinking you didn’t have to drag each other down.

it didn’t matter now.

now, all that mattered was surviving. together.

which was what led you here…standing in a sea of exhausted, wary women, pushing into the bathroom with jun-hee behind you and hyun-ju in front, keeping them close, like a shield.

you aren’t the only one on edge. hyun-ju’s beautiful eyes are scanning, assessing. she turns around and catches the way your fingers twitch at your sides, the way your shoulders stay stiff.

"you okay?" her voice is low, careful.

you force a small nod.

"just need to pee badly."

it’s a lie.

hyun-ju knows. she reads people too well…probably from whatever special forces training she’s had.

she doesn’t press, just gives you a look before shifting her attention elsewhere.

it’s not the bathroom that has you tense.

it’s her.

player 123.

she’s already ahead, pushing through the group like she owns the place along with her goon’s, loud and grating. she hasn’t stopped talking since mingle. hasn’t stopped running her mouth.

"you see that one triangle guard earlier?"

she crows to no one in particular, shoving her elbow into the woman next to her.

"dude was practically asleep. i bet i could’ve grabbed his gun…boom, game over."

the woman beside her gives a nervous laugh, stepping away. no one outside of her dickriding goons wants to be near her…she’s too reckless, too unpredictable.

your fingers curl into a fist at your side.

you don’t trust her. not after what happened in the six-legged penalathon.

you and player 123 had almost killed each other.

it had been an accident, but that didn’t matter. the two of you had made a mistake, a single misstep, a moment of hesitation that had nearly sent both of you crashing to your deaths. and she blamed you.

the audacity.

when jun-hee came to your group, asking to join. you gave up your spot for the woman. dae-ho protested, but you told him that the pregnant woman needs to live, so being with men will help her.

dae-ho intensely watched you as you approached 123 and her group of 4. player 123 said you could join, since she needed another woman who looked, “as fit as you.”

however, that was a mistake.. since you both nearly tripped when you were running to the finish line.

since then, she hated you..

you weren’t exactly fond of her either.

you keep jun-hee behind you as the crowd shifts into the cramped bathroom. it’s a tight space, bodies pressing in on all sides. no privacy, no safety.

you aren’t the only one feeling it…jun-hee shifts uncomfortably, pressing a protective hand over her stomach. you glance at her, lowering your voice.

"we’ll be quick. i won’t let anything happen."

she nods, trusting.

too trusting.

you can feel player 123's presence, her laughter cutting through the thick air like a blade. she’s talking again, louder now, complaining about everything.

"this is ridiculous," she groans, kicking the bottom of a stall.

"they’re treating us like animals. like we’re not even people."

you bite back the urge to snap.

because that’s the thing...she’s not wrong.

that doesn’t make you hate her any less.

hyun-ju watches you carefully from the side, tracking the way your body tenses, the way your fingers tap against your leg like you’re holding yourself back from something.

"she’s not worth it," hyun-ju mutters under her breath.

you exhale sharply, steadying yourself.

"i know."

that doesn’t stop you from keeping an eye on player 123. doesn’t stop the weight of her presence from pressing into you.

because in a place like this, grudges can get you killed.

the guards stand lazily outside of the entrance, their rifles hanging at their sides, not paying attention.

they don’t care about the many players inside one hot room.

but you do.

you keep jun-hee close, guiding her toward the stalls. she looks miserable, her hand resting over the curve of her belly, shoulders tight with exhaustion.

"y/n, i just need to sit for a second."

jun-hee pulls you towards the first stall.

she goes into one of the stalls, locking it behind her, and you let out a slow breath. your heart is still racing. not because of the guards, not because of the way the other women keep their eyes peeled for weakness…but because of player 123.

you hear her voice somewhere off to the side, barking out a laugh, too loud, too confident.

"these stalls are disgusting, i swear to god. like what do they want us to do? piss outside?"

she’s talking to no one in particular, but the woman next to her lets out a forced chuckle, clearly too nervous to ignore her.

“she is so fucking annoying!”

you think.

your jaw clenches, fingers twitching at your side.

you don’t trust her. you never have.

so when jun-hee comes out of her stall, you decide to go in after her. not because you need to pee, but because you don’t want to have to go later, when things could be worse.

“i’ll be quick," you murmur, passing by hyun-ju, who is by the sinks, watching everything like a hawk.

"stay alert," she tells you.

you nod, stepping inside the stall, locking it behind you.

you sit, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in the horrors of the game.

everything blurs together…the blood, the screams, the crack of bones snapping under pressure. you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your palms into your thighs, trying to push the thoughts away, trying to remind yourself that you're still here. still breathing. still alive.

BANG.

your entire body jolts at the sudden impact against the stall door.

"can you hurry the fuck up?"

that voice.

your blood runs cold.

player 123.

you don’t say anything, don’t react, hoping she’ll just move on, but then

she crawls under the stall.

your breath catches in your throat, horror spiking through your veins as her hands and knees scrape against the filthy tile, her face appearing under the gap before she pulls herself inside, into your space.

"are you fucking stupid?"

you snap, scrambling to pull your joggers up as you stagger to your feet.

she just laughs.

loud, grating, obnoxious.

"oh? oh, look at that." she grins, rocking back on her heels.

"it’s the stupid bitch who almost got us killed!"

your fists clench.

"get the fuck out,"

you hiss, pushing past her to unlock the door.

she follows you.

you storm toward the sinks, your entire body thrumming with rage. she’s right on your heels, her voice sharp and mocking as she keeps egging you on.

"what’s wrong, 099? mad i called you out? mad that you’re such a weak bitch who made it this far? "

you ignore her, stepping toward the sinks where hyun-ju and jun-hee are.

she doesn’t stop.

"you think you’re some big hero? sticking with your little group like you’re different from the rest of us? newsflash, sweetheart…nobody here is safe."

your hands shake. you grip the edge of the sink, trying to steady yourself.

then she says it.

"you know... i started to notice how close you and player 388 are. are you guys together?"

123’s tone shifts, turning cruel, taunting.

you stare at her through the mirror, hoping she shuts the fuck up.

"wait, awee you guys are together! you know.. he’s such a charm. i cannot wait to steal him when you die during the next game!"

that’s it.

before you can even think, your body moves on its own.

you turn, your fist flying through the air, and the impact is satisfying to your mind and knuckles.

CRACK.

your knuckles collide with her face, sending her stumbling backward, her body hitting the ground with a hard thud.

someone gasps.

her goons rush forward, helping her up.

hyun-ju steps toward you, eyes sharp, but before she can say anything—

all hell breaks loose.

somewhere in the room, another fight erupts.

two randome women claw at each other, snarling like wild animals, hair being pulled, screams echoing off the tile.

and then, like a chain reaction, everyone starts fighting.

jun-hee stumbles back against the wall, hiding, pressing her hands over her stomach, panic flashing across her face. she knows she doesn’t stand a chance in this chaos.

hyun-ju moves quickly, diving into the mess, trying to break up fights before they get worse.

you…you don’t get the chance.

because player 123 tackles you.

you slam into the sink counter, pain exploding through your ribs.

"you wanna fucking hit me, huh?"

she seethes, grabbing onto your shirt.

"you bitch! you think you’re tough?"

you fight back, gripping her by the shoulders, trying to throw her off. but she’s strong, fueled by anger, by adrenaline.

you both go crashing to the ground.

she’s on top of you, fists flying.

one punch.

two.

three.

your face is bruised, bloodied.

your vision goes blurry, the taste of iron thick in your mouth as blood pools around your molar teeth.

you gasp, hands scrambling for anything.

you grip 123’s neck, trying to choke her, trying to stop her punches, but she just snarls, yanking at your hair, slamming your head back against the tile.

someone—se-mi—tries to pull her off.

but it’s not working.

you’re losing.

then

something presses against your thigh.

your metal fork.

the one from earlier’s meal. the one you saved, just in case something like this happened

your fingers close around it inside of your pocket.

without thinking..without hesitating..

you move your right hand quickly and plunge it into her neck.

she freezes.

123’s brown eyes go wide.

her hands, her fists, stop.

she limps, her body crumbling.

however, that was not enough.

something inside you snaps.

you stab.

again.

over and over and over until..

"STOP!"

arms pull you back… hyun-ju.

your breath is ragged, your chest heaving.

player 123 is dead.

her body is still.

her blood is everywhere.

you don’t realize what you’ve done…not really…until hyun-ju drags you into the hallway, pushing you against the wall beside a guard.

you’re hyperventilating. those pink lungs of yours cannot seem to catch a breath.

hyun-ju doesn’t yell at you. doesn’t scold you for murder since that would be hypocritical of her. she just takes the bloody fork from your hands, wipes at the blood on your face…though your 099 shirt is already soaked in red.

"breathe," she orders.

you can’t.

"what did i do?"

jun-hee stands nearby, eyes wide, face pale.

she looks at you, then at the bodies inside.

"nothing. since nothing will be mentioned to the others,"

she says quietly.

you nod.

silent.

back to the dorms.. you can barely walk.

your legs feel like they don’t belong to you, and the weight of what you just did claws at your chest, sinking deep into your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

hyun-ju keeps her arm wrapped tightly around you, holding you up, making sure you don’t collapse under your own exhaustion. your shirt is soaked in blood..

some yours, most of it hers.

player 123 is dead.

you did that.

you killed her.

yet, in this moment, all you can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other as you and the remaining women shuffle back into the dorms.

the second the doors open, the tension inside the dorm shifts.

the men had heard everything.

the screams.

the fighting.

the pounding of bodies slamming against the walls, the stalls, the sinks.

the killings.

it was a nightmare.

and dae-ho almost ran after you.

he had almost lost his mind when the first screams from multiple women echoed through the halls, his entire body lurching forward, ready to run, to fight, to protect you, before jung bae grabbed him.

"don’t." jung bae had hissed, forcing him to stay put.

"we don’t know what’s happening yet."

"it’s a fucking massacre, that’s what," young-il had muttered under his breath, his face pale as they all listened.

dae-ho couldn’t stay calm.

he was barely breathing, his hands clenching and unclenching, his mind running a thousand miles a minute.

you had told him you’d be okay.

you had promised.

but then why did the screaming keep going?

why did it sound like hell itself had broken loose in there?

at one point, it sounded like you were screaming.

it was, it was when you were repeatedly stabbing 123 over and over again.

back in the dorms, dae-ho kept trying to reason with himself.

you don’t start fights.

you aren’t reckless.

then he remembered the way you and 123 had argued after your group barely survived the six-legged penalathon…by four fucking seconds.

he remembered 123 cursing you out, yelling about how you should’ve died instead of her almost falling.

he remembered the way you just flicked her off, walking away.

she was a loose cannon.

123 was like thanos and namgyu smashed into one woman.

what if—

the doors open.

the women return.

and it’s worse than he imagined.

the ones who come back look horrible.

some are bloody. some have fresh bruises. some have torn shirts, missing shoes, swollen faces.

but not as many women return as there were when they left.

dae-ho’s stomach drops.

he scans the group frantically.

the marine’s heart hammers.

his eyes land on hyun-ju and jun-hee first…both fine, exhausted but fine.

then he sees you and his blood runs cold.

his baby. his love.

you look destroyed. your face is bloodied. your right eye is swollen. there’s a deep cut above your eyebrow, blood trailing down your cheek, dripping onto your already soaked shirt.

your lips are busted.

your knuckles are bruised and your hands are shaking.

"what the fuck happened?"

dae-ho’s voice is sharp, broken.

hyun-ju doesn’t answer right away.

instead, she tightens her grip on you, like she’s trying to shield you from his panic.

it’s too late.

he pushes forward, prying you out of hyun-ju’s arms, cradling you in his own.

his hands hover over your face, your wounds, your bruises, like he doesn’t know where to touch, where to fix, where to start.

"baby, oh my god, what did they do to you?" his voice breaks.

he lifts you into his arms, carrying you straight to his bed, settling you down gently, as if you might shatter if he moves too fast.

you don’t say anything.

you can’t.

because if you open your mouth, if you speak,you might just say what you did.

so instead, you stare at the ceiling, your breath shallow, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

hyun-ju and jun-hee exchange a look.

they don’t tell him.

they don’t say what really happened.

that is your place, not theirs.

they don’t tell him that you killed player 123 in a fit of survival and rage, stabbing her over and over again until her body was lifeless.

instead, hyun-ju lies.

"a fight broke out. everyone was attacking each other."

dae-ho’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking over every bruise, every wound, every drop of blood.

"and she was attacked?"

jun-hee nods.

"we barely made it out."

dae-ho exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he tears a piece of his 388 shirt, dipping it into some cup of water (belonging to gi-hun) before gently pressing it against your wounds.

"fuck, i should’ve been there," he mutters.

"i should’ve protected you."

you swallow.

dae-ho’s words make your chest ache in a way you can’t explain.

he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know what you did.

he doesn’t know that you aren’t just hurt.

you are a killer now.

across the room, young-il/001/the frontman undercover watches you carefully as he sits beside a worried gi-hun and jung-bae.

his eyes linger.

he knows.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a scene, but you catch the way he scans the room, the way he takes note of who came back..and who didn’t.

123 isn’t here

he knows.

you don’t look at dae-ho.

you can’t

because then you’d have to acknowledge it. and right now, you just want to pretend.

pretend you didn’t just take a life.

pretend you’re still you.

the speaker comes on and the room freezes as everyone listens. suddenly, the names of the eliminated players in the women’s bathroom echo through the dorms.

"player 037. eliminated."

"player 272. eliminated."

"player 081. eliminated."

"player 410. eliminated."

"player 008. eliminated."

"player 072. eliminated."

and then..

"player 123. eliminated."

the second her number is called, the room shifts in your perspective.

your stomach twists.

dae-ho’s eyes snap to you.

then to hyun-ju.

hyun-ju turns away.

you tense.

but he doesn’t know.

not yet. not yet.

because lights out is coming.

during lights out, you wake up to dae-ho who is looking up at the ceiling. the ceiling where the gold pig sits with all of the money. the money from the dead players.

“baby, is everything alright?”

you ask lightly, putting your hand on his upper thigh as he looks over at you.

the man smiles lightly, brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead as you close your eyes.. taking in his touch.

“i should be asking you that.”

dae-ho responds.

of course you are still thinking about the murder you committed. however, you know that there will not be any legal consequences. the guards and this whole game is illegal itself!

however, you wonder how dae-ho will look at you.

he used to talk to you about a murder that he committed while he was in the marines. the one thing that started his PTSD while serving. however, he was forced to do that.

you were not forced.

well, that is debatable.

since you were acting in self-defense.

you brought your sore lips over dae-ho’s and started kissing him soflty, moving his hands to your ass while you sat your clothed core on top of his bulge.

“y/n.”

he groans through your lips.

“hm.”

you smirk.

“is this alright? i don’t want you to feel uncom–”

“we need a distraction, dae-ho.”

two minutes later, your lips around around his fat tip. the marine’s head laid back against the hard wall, his pants pulled down to his ankles as you took his whole length inside of your throat.

you were distracting yourself. your focus is fully on your lover’s scent, his big dick in your throat, your hands massaging his balls, and the way your lashes batted up at his eyes while you sucked his dick.

this is the only way you can distract yourself from earlier. the murder. the murder you commited.

dae-ho wrapped your hair in a ponytail with his hands while you continued to do your work. you concentrated your tongue on a particular vein on his shaft while arching your back in the process.

"fuck, you're sucking me off so perfectly."

your boyfriend of five years reaches over to massage your clothed ass, groaning softly as you deepthroated his cock.

obviously, sucking his cock during lights out, where a player can easily see you, was not ideal for most people. however, you refused to pull dae-ho into a bathroom and do it. not where you killed 123.

dae-ho’s cock twitched inside of your throat and you hummed, feeling his white load spill inside of your mouth and throat.

the man puts a pillow over his head, so the pillow can block out his loud pornographic moan he spoke out.

you were always so good at sucking his dick, oh how much he missed it while the games were happening.

you helped your boyfriend pull his boxers and pants back on. the man flipped you over and kissed all over your neck, but you cringed.

not because of dae-ho, not at all. you were so desperate for his tongue on your clit but somehow.. you started smelling the metallic blood from earlier.

123’s blood.

tears fill your eyes almost immediately.

when dae-ho realized that you were crying out of fear instead of pleasure, he stopped instantly. he pulled you into his arms as you stained his shirt with your tears.

you started to hyperventilate again.

dae-ho keeps you in his arms, but pulls your head off of his chest in order to help yourself breathe.

“baby, please breathe.”

dae-ho panics, nearly having tears in his eyes too.

“dae-ho, i-i-ca-can’t. i’m ah-a monster.”

you coughed out.

dae-ho frowns.

“no you’re not!”

he mumbles confidently, truthfully.

“you’re my angel.”

you cry more, shaking your head with a frown.

“angels don't kill people, dae-ho.”

you sob, wiping your nose with your blood stained jacket.

“what?”

dae-ho’s eyes widened.

“sh-sh-she was so close to killing me i-in there!”

you start shaking, dae-ho holds your hands as you try to recall the memory.

your lips turn pale. dae-ho holds the back of your head with his large hands as more tears fall down your face.

“dae-ho, i killed 123!!! the fork i-i ha-had when we ate the bibimbap to-together! she almost beat me to death so i stabbed her.”

your hands started shaking to the point where dae-ho had to hold them.

not only was the memory so traumatic, but you were started to think that dae-ho would leave you.

scared that he would not want someone who is a murderer.

dae-ho’s eyes are widened, he cannot say anything.

“puh-pl-please say something! i swear it was in self-defense!! she did this to me-”

you pointed at the bruises and cuts on your face.

“i-i couldn’t breathe before i felt the fork in my pocket. i had to, i am so sorry! please forgive me for being a monster!”

you forced your hands out of dae-ho’s and covered your face, ashamed of yourself.

dae-ho is everything good in this world. even here, in this twisted, merciless game, he treats you like you’re made of glass…like you’re still the same person he fell in love with before all of this.

you’re scared.. now you believe that he knows that the girl he’s holding, the girl he’s protecting so fiercely, is not the girl he fell in love with.

you’re a monster. a murderer.

the blood on your hands isn’t just yours…it’s 123s.

dae-ho holds you again.. and doesn’t let go of you. not even for a second.

the marine’s arms stay firmly around you, grounding you as your entire body shakes, as your chest heaves, struggling to pull in air. your lungs burn, your throat closes, and your vision blurs with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing down on you all at once.

you can’t stop crying.

you can’t stop the guilt, the fear, the shame from clawing at your insides, making you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside out.

"i'm a monster,"

you choke out between uneven breaths.

"i don’t deserve you, dae-ho. i don’t.."

"stop."

dae-ho’s voice is gentle, but firm. the man’s hands cup your face, thumbs wiping away the hot tears streaming down your cheeks, even though they just keep coming.

"baby, listen to me. i understand."

dae-ho’s voice is steady, warm, full of something so deep and unwavering.. it only makes you cry harder.

"i know. it was self-defense."

you shake your head, gripping onto his wrists like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely in this hellhole.

"but i still did it," you whisper, voice breaking.

"i still killed her."

dae-ho doesn’t flinch.

his grip doesn’t loosen.

his expression doesn’t change.

"and it would have been you killed if you hadn’t."

his words hit hard, slicing through the noise in your head.

you inhale sharply, shuddering.

"this game… it’s bringing out the worst in all of us." his voice softens, his forehead pressing against yours.

"this isn’t your fault, baby. you were protecting yourself."

you sob, shaking your head violently.

"no–"

"yes." he pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his dark eyes full of nothing but love.

"you’re not a monster. you’re still my girl… my angel."

dae-ho’svoice breaks on those last words, but he keeps going.

he wants to cry with you.

"when we get out of here, i’ll get us help." he promises.

"therapy, whatever you need, i’ll be right there with you. we’ll get through this. together."

your face crumples, your hands tightening in the fabric of his 388 shirt.

"how can you still love me after this?"

dae-ho lets out a soft, shaky breath, like he can’t believe you’d even ask that.

"how can i not? you’re the love of my life. bad or good."

your chest shakes as another sob wracks through you, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not just grief, it’s relief.

because he’s not leaving.

he’s not disgusted.

he’s not giving up on you.

"i’m not mad, baby. i’m not mad at you." his lips press against your temple, lingering.

"and we’re okay. i’m still with you. i’m still going to protect you."

"we’re okay?" you whisper, almost afraid to believe it.

he nods, pulling you closer, holding you like he never wants to let go.

"we’re okay."

masterlist

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 days ago

Text

The Widow's Bite of Love🕷️ | Johnny Storm Imagine

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x black widow!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic).

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, flirtatious banter, mentions of canon violence, canon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 2.7k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Having returned from an intense mission with the Fantastic Four, Johnny Storm receives a welcome home from his girlfriend that's both a reminder to always remember making his presence known, and that behind her rough exterior there's a softness reserved only for him.

note: yeah, Joseph's Johnny Storm already has me in a chokehold and the movie isn't even out yet. I'm having to improvise of course since we don't know much but I'm having fun creating AUs in the meantime. Enjoy 💌

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

Johnny knew better than to not announce himself when he entered the apartment past midnight after returning home from a week's long mission. It’d take him a second to shout, “Honey, I’m home!” but all the energy in him was exhausted. The mission took longer than planned. He was bruised and covered in dried blood from superficial cuts to his face and shoulders. Staining the crisp blue and white suit he wore. All he wanted was to get out of the suit, spend an hour in the shower, and bury himself under the covers to sleep until the end of time.

However, that would have to wait.

As Johnny practically dragged his feet across the floor in the direction of his bedroom, forgetting to turn on the main light in the living room, he was knocked off his feet with a knee to his stomach. “Ummph!!”

His attacker pushed him into a wall, his body ricocheting off and dodging the next kick which would’ve hit his side. Their arms wrapped around him, maneuvering him with brute force to put him on his back and Johnny groaned at the pain that shot up his spine. He may not have broken any bones but that didn’t mean he was in great condition.

Using what little strength he had, Johnny put his whole body in pushing the figure off him. They let out a grunt and Johnny froze. It was hard to see, but there was something familiar about the moves his attacker was throwing at him and the familiar grunt that echoed in his ears. Then he caught a glimpse of their side profile thanks to the moonlight flickering in from the living room blinds.

‘Oh fuck…’

Johnny scrambled up and he heard her do the same. But whereas he raced to the light switch, she went to the coffee table and Johnny felt his blood drain. Thankfully he reached the switch first, flicking it on right as a dreading *click* filled the space.

“Baby!” his hands waved frantically, matching the tremor in his tone. “It’s me, baby! It’s Johnny!” The gun trained on him hesitated, and Johnny let out a breath of relief when he saw the instant recognition in her face. The relief only lasted a second though, because then he winced as it was replaced by fury.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny!! I could’ve killed you!!” Her scream echoed off the walls and matched her eyes full of wrath. “What the fuck did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that?!”

“I know! I know--I’m sorry!” his hands stayed up, threatening to fall down but he didn’t want to use any sudden movements knowing she was pumped full of adrenaline. Judging by the sweats and tank top she wore plus the wildness of her hair, she had to have been asleep and heard him come in. Sending her into agent mode. “I--I was distracted and I forgot to shout. I didn’t know if you were--I don’t…I don’t…” the words struggled to fall. His mind, fogged with fatigue, was racing with thoughts making it difficult for Johnny to get a grasp on them.

Plus, his heart was pumping from nearly being shot by his girlfriend.

Y/n, taking in his appearance fully for the first time since their unorthodox reunion, frowned and clicked the safety on the gun, tossing it on the coffee table where it’s usually hidden. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you like that without confirming--.” Johnny gently cut her off.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for.” His arms fell to his side as he moved to ease his body on the armchair closest to him. Every muscle in him screamed, and while the fire that consumed his veins helped, it wasn’t enough. “It’s one in the morning. You were probably asleep and I knew better than to just walk in and expect you to know immediately that it was me. After all,” he grunted with a wince, watching as she moved to the kitchen to flick on the kettle before approaching him. “We were supposed to be back two days ago.”

“Yeah I figured something went wrong when Sue refused to answer my calls,” her body crouched down so she was level with his knees. “I was tempted to come after you guys.”

“Why didn’t you?” he leaned forward with a wince, smiling sheepishly at her look at disapproval. He obviously wasn’t great at hiding his pain from her.

“Because you always have everything under control. You’d pull through,” she assessed his features, glowering at the cuts that marked his skin painted with dried blood. The splotches on his suit and slight tears in the fabric. “Looks like this time you had a little more cut out for ya.”

Johnny chuckled, “you could say that.” The whistle of the kettle sounded, and Y/n got up to begin making Johnny a cup of herbal tea. Handing him the steaming mug before squatting once more. The heat of the cup was comforting, and thanks to his powers Johnny didn’t have to worry about burning his tongue when he took the first sip. “Thank you, darling.”

Her hand came to his cheek, making him lean into her touch as she pressed a kiss to his temple that was free of blood. His bottom lip was bruised with a small abrasion, so she refrained from kissing his mouth and instead left one on the corner. Laughing when he tried to catch her lips, but she pulled away causing him to groan.

“Wait here and drink your tea while I go run you a bath,” she squeezed his knee as she started to stand.

“Wait, no, no, no, baby--I don’t need a bath.” His hand snatched hers before she could walk away. Y/n let him hold her in place, but her brow raised with a knowing look. Johnny gave her his best puppy dog eyes, “The shower is perfectly fine and you have training in the morning. You go back to bed--I’ll be fine.”

Y/n scoffed lightly, “Bold of you to assume I’m not taking the day off, Johnny Storm. You just got back and I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least three days.” His face flushed red, causing a smirk to appear on her. “Plus, as if I need training. You and I both know it’s really for my sparring partners. Not me.”

“Which is why--,” he pulled her forward, letting his chin rest on her stomach as he tilted his head up. Sighing when her hands cupped his cheeks. “They are counting on you. You’re the best person for the job, Widow.”

“I’m off the clock,” Y/n smirked at the name, fingers going up to his hair to smooth it out. “That name only works on me when I’m on. Now stop trying to switch the subject.” She scolded, stepping away despite his refusal. “You’re going to drink this tea, get out of this suit and have a nice hot bath. Then you’re going to bed and sleep the rest of the day. Got it?” She left no room for argument, and Johnny wasn’t going to attempt, nodding with a tired yawn.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she leaned down to kiss his temple one last time. “Don’t move till I tell you to.” The response she got was a lazy two finger salute, and Y/n retreated to their bathroom. As the water filled the tub, she went to Johnny’s drawers to remove a t-shirt, sweatpants, and boxers, placing the clothes on the countertop before grabbing a packet of Epsom salt, bottle of bubble bath, lavender oil, a fluffy towel, a face towel and some candles from the cabinet. She also made sure to grab the first aid kit hidden beneath the sink.

She poured the bubble bath liquid once the water reached about ⅓ of the tub. Then lit the candles and placed them on the stained-glass windowsill. Shutting the water off when it got just below the brim of the tub, Y/n poured a cup of the Epsom salt and let it sit for a minute before returning to the living room.

“Alright, pretty boy, let’s get you cleaned up.” The smile on Johnny’s face was enough to light up a galaxy. If someone would’ve told him when he first gained powers rivaling the sun that his heart would be captured by a woman with deadly skills like the spider she’s named after, he’d say they had lost their mind. But the universe had a funny way of proving him wrong.

Carrying the brute of his weight, Y/n’s left arm went over his shoulders while the other wrapped over the front of his waist. Encouraging him to lean on her as she helped him off the chair and to the bathroom, “Baby, we’ve been over this before, you’re not going to hurt me,” she grumbled when he tried to keep himself steady.

Eventually they made it to the bathroom, perching Johnny on the edge of the tub where Y/n unzipped his suit and got it down to his torso before turning to allow him some privacy while he removed the rest and eased into the water.

“All good?” she asked, opening the first aid kit to retrieve bandages and alcohol pads.

“Yeah,” he moaned, welcoming the hot water as it hugged him. Instantly soothing the strained muscles that were already relaxing. Yeah the shower would’ve been a bad idea. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for putting you down when you were already,” Y/n’s tone was apologetic, and Johnny gave her a look. Silently telling her to stop being sorry for the incident ten minutes prior. Y/n dismissed his look, bringing the wipes and bandages over as she took a seat on the stool beside the tub. “Also, how many times have you done this for me?” Now it was Johnny’s turn to smirk.

“A few, give or take.” More like a dozen. Y/n’s returned back from missions covered in blood and bruises so much that Johnny’s already got the bath set when her jet lands.

“Exactly,” she says with a hum, bringing his face toward with one hand while the other gathers water on the face cloth. “Now let me take care of you.”

For the next 40 minutes, Johnny soaked in the bath as Y/n wiped the blood off him and tended to his wounds. She washed his hair while he relayed the details of the mission. Telling her how he came to be all battered and bruised thanks to an explosion he didn’t anticipate, too close to the line of fire. With the lavender oil Y/n massaged his shoulders and back, paying careful attention to the bruising so as to not hurt him any further.

When she was all done, Y/n pressed soft kisses all over his face. The contours of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows. His temple, his jaw, the corner of his lips. By the end of it Johnny was begging for her mouth on his. He craved it. Going as far as to murmur, “Please, baby,” when she pecked his chin. Eventually Y/n caved in. Meeting his plush lips for a shot, but sweet, tender kiss. There was a bit of pain on Johnny’s end due to the cut, but he didn’t care. He needed this.

The water remained warm due to his elevated body temperature, but once satisfied Johnny got out of the tub and dressed while Y/n put everything back in its place. The two then left the bathroom, Y/n flicking the lights off on their way out and led Johnny to the bed. “Oh,” he moaned just like the bath, relishing the feeling of the plush mattress gave him. It felt like laying on a cloud. “That’s so nice.”

Y/n laughed, urging him further into the bed so she could pull the comforter over his torso. Practically tucking him in before moving around to her side, joining him under the covers. Instantly Johnny pushes himself onto his side to curl up against Y/n, who laid on her back and welcomed him with opened arms. As he tucked his face in the area by her shoulder and neck, one hand went to her stomach to sneak his hand beneath her tank top and rest it on her waist.

“You know tonight reminded me of the first time we met.” He spoke after a minute, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her fingers move to card through his blonde hair. The action made him shudder, pressing himself further into her side.

Her chuckle made his body move slightly, a teasing tone in her reply, “You mean when I tried to kill you?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it caused his own to appear.

Johnny remembered it like it was yesterday. He and the Fantastic Four were on a mission to locate a highly dangerous radioactive substance that could level an entire country. Recovering it was crucial God forbid it landed in the wrong hands. So they should’ve expected they weren’t the only ones after it.

Something they found out the hard way.

During the extraction, Johnny found himself face to face with the barrel of the gun in the hands of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Dressed in a black tactical suit with too many weapons for him to count and a stare enough to send him to the grave. Johnny felt a bunch of emotions at once. From fear at having a gun on him, to confusion at the red hourglass on her belt.

The encounter ended with Johnny getting a taste of what he would come to know as the widow’s bite. An electroshock weapon via gauntlets on her arms. Strong enough to put Johnny on his ass allowing her to escape with the package. The next day during the Four’s debrief, they discovered her identity.

Her name was Y/n L/n. A highly trained and enhanced assassin of the now disbanded and classified program, the Red Room. Called the Black Widow, Y/n was an expert marksman, master of weaponry, professional in hand-to-hand combat and possessed equipment the Fantastic Four had never seen. The files indicated she’d been a key part in the dismantling of several European governments and linked to a dozen political assassinations. The records alone were enough to make their skin crawl. And frankly the Four were confused as it was common knowledge that when the Red Room disbanded, they killed all the Black Widows under their command to prevent their secrets from getting out.

Turns out, they missed one. Who happened to be their best asset ever produced.

Why was she after a radioactive substance? They didn’t know. But whatever it was they needed to find out fast and locate her before whoever she was working for got it.

Their answer took weeks to uncover. And when they did the events following resulted in Y/n turning on the man she initially stole the package for and aligning with the Fantastic Four to bring him down. Initially they were suspicious, naturally so. Y/n was a spy, breaded and forged to become the best Black Widow the Red Room had ever produced. She was formidable, highly intelligent. A weapon in her own right.

But she was their best chance at beating the guy. She knew his weaknesses. Knew his plans. It was an unlikely alliance, but the odds were against them.

That was years ago. Now after saving the world too many times to count and nearly losing their lives, the assassin turned agent laid in Johnny’s bed in their shared apartment of Baxter’s Building. Holding him in her arms with a softness that took his breath away. The complete opposite of the threatening aura she possessed in the field.

“I love you, Y/n,” He breathed into the night as sleep overtook him. Succumbing to the exhaustion as his heart fluttered at the feeling of her lips attached one last time to his forehead.

“And I love you, my darling Johnny Storm.”

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