#i wanna write something where he makes his move
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Lighter praising (or showing affection) and telling reader that he’s veryy proud of reader who has daddy issues (aka me) </3 (make it a bitt angsty bcs yes)
with that voice of his…. oh i’m not sure if he knows his power. also i am SO SORRY if i messed this one up because i’m bad at writing T_T also this reads weird if i dont clarify that its an established relationship between lighter x reader
not everyone has a good relationship with their family. especially after the fall of the Old Capital, many had lost their family and caused a rift between their still alive relatives. your day to day life hadn’t changed much but it was difficult for your family to get accustomed to the new life.
with that came many challenges; your parents working more to sustain themselves, their expectations for you as their child to pursue higher aspirations. the outer ring wasn’t where they wanted you to stay for the rest of your life, new eridu is a much better option for your future. days go by, stress piling up, nightly arguments at the dining table about how you should spend less time with the sons of calydon.
you never really brought it up to the other members. you knew they’d comfort you, considering they all had troubles in their past, but it’s not like you want to bring down the mood all of a sudden. on one particular night though, you had noticed lighter sneaking away from the rest of the group. you thought you could follow him but he was a lot more alert than that.
“wanna get some air for a bit? the girls are still talking so its all good.” lighter handed you a lollipop as he began to unwrap one for himself. there was an empty area far enough from everyone that had a perfect view of the night sky. no clouds in sight, just the twinkling stars and the bright full moon. lighter sat down first, sweeping away any dust before patting the space next to him. as you sat down, you began to ponder about your life. you hung out less and less with the sons of calydon since your parents, more specifically your father, wanted you to work harder. even if you had brought home some extra tips from cheesetopia, or helped out around blazewood, it seemed as though your efforts weren’t being appreciated and instead all he had to say were insults.
in the corner of his eye, lighter noticed you staring off into the far distance. he scooched over a little closer to you, maybe he’d be able to see what you were seeing. “something caught your eye?” his deep voice cut through your train of thought, making you blink at him in confusion. “oh uh… just thinking.” you mumbled, finally unwrapping your lollipop and popping it into your mouth.
“something happened recently, right? you leave earlier than usual lately.” you forget how perceptive lighter was, always noticing before others. “not recent but…” you ran your hand through your hair, feeling frustrated at how you couldn’t even enjoy such a quiet and beautiful night. after a moment of silence, you finally spoke up.
“it’s just, my dad. you know how it is out here in the outer ring. they want me to move out to new eridu but i can’t just leave. i have you and- and the girls…. they just want so much from me…” your voice trembled as you let your emotions flow out of you. your bottled up feelings finally overflowing as tears began to well up in your eyes. in between the soft cries, you felt lighter’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing you to help you let it all out.
“don’t let that old man tell you what to do. you’re doing a lot already. everyone in blazewood can tell you the same,” he spoke quietly but noticed how you seemed to still be trapped in your own thoughts. he placed both hands on your shoulders and turned you towards him. “hey, hey. listen to me. you’re wonderful and we all appreciate what you do around here. your dad knows nothing about you. we know you, i know you, and i’m proud of all that you’ve done.” lighter’s voice turned more serious, yet still carried a hint of softness to it.
he removed his sunglasses, exhaling as he looked down at you. “home is where the heart is. right now, where is your heart? hmm?” he asked quietly, moving his hands down to cup yours. “here. blazewood. i want to stay with all of you.” your sniffling was shattering his heart, trying to cheer you up but also afraid of saying the wrong things. he brought up one of his hands to the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears.
“then stay with us. i’ll talk to him, alright? just between us, i won’t tell the rest.” his voice was warm, similar to that of a fire on a cold night. he pulled you closer into his arms, hushing you while reassuring you. lines of “it’s alright” and “i’m here” came out of him naturally as you gripped onto his jacket. a moment of vulnerability, a moment of sadness, a moment away from keeping up appearances. you didn’t have to pretend, you couldn’t pretend anymore and lighter could see that. soft pats, gentle kisses on the top of your head, he just wanted to make you feel safe and loved after having your feelings constantly dismissed.
#lumiresponds ˚✧₊⁎☆#lighter zzz#lighter lorenz#zzz lighter#lighter x you#lighter x gn reader#lighter x reader#i am so sorry anon if this is not well written#or not what you wanted#AUGHH THIS LOWKEY KINDA HARD#also because i try to keep it as close to the game#so that it isn’t weird for him to just suddenly praise you for nothing#ALSO IM TRYING TO THINK OF MORE WAYS HE COULD PRAISE YOU#but i literally can’t think of any#I FEAR THAT I MAY NOT BE A LIGHTER WRITER GUYS#im a fraud fr#but this has been marinating in my drafts#i feel as though this is the best i can do with this#thank you everyone for being so patient with me
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walkin out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part 9
⤷ ''i don't wanna be forward, i don't wanna cut corners // savor this with everything i have inside of me''
a/n: this took the longest ever to write omg!! im so sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy ❥❥ also, hot by cigarettes after sex is literally their song i might sob 😭 summary: someone gives grayson a piece of advice, and grayson spends hours trying to decipher and make sense of it, just to find out the right answer was infront of him. series masterlist — other parts
flashback, 16 years old..
''this is highly dangerous, you know.'' grayson's voice was steady as he called out. he climbed right behind you anyway.
you were climbing up to the rooftop of your house on a very tall ladder. perhaps it wasn't the safest thing, but your parents had blocked all the staircases that led to the rooftop to stop you from going up there. you found ways around it, and they hadn't noticed the ladder yet.
''okay,'' you laughed, seeing your breath in the cold air. you looked back briefly to see his gaze trained on his feet below him as you both continued going up the ladder. ''i don't really care.''
''you should.'' he mumbled back, hint of sass in his voice. you weren't sure if he wanted you to hear that or not.
''please, you care enough for the both of us,'' you replied anyways, because you remembered everything about grayson was intentional. he was capable of being very silent when he wanted to.
two more steps, and you finally reached the top of the ladder and climbing onto the rooftop. you didn't struggle much, you came here every time the sky looked pretty, and in winter, that was pretty much every night. you exhaled as you sat, ''it evens things out.''
graysons eyebrows flashed up in agreement for a moment, not arguing on that.
he reached the top and climbed over with no struggle. he sat a few inches away from you, your gaze still trained on the sky ahead. you looked behind you, taking in the the whole sunset with its shades of bruised purple and little streaks of orange.
you pulled out a small thermos from your hoodies pocket.
well, it wasnt really a small thermos, it was... more of a larger flask that you had stole from your parents room because you needed something to keep your drink warm.
but what could you say? desperate times called for desperate measures.
grayson glanced at you, then away, then immediately did a double take again and eyed the object in your hand.
his expression reminded you of a teacher: a stern, disappointed, and confused expression all together. his nose crinkled slightly, and you almost laughed out loud.
''grayson,'' you laughed, ''it's hot chocolate... i couldn't find my thermos, relax.'' you understood where he was coming from, i mean, it was a flask, but you weren't a drinker.
he didn’t say anything, but his expression said it all. he stayed looking at you conspicuously and furrowed his brows slightly.
you laughed in disbelief, ''what? you want it?" you teased. when he simply looked at you with a disapproving brow raise, you gasped.
''grayson!" you brought a hand to your chest, ''you seriously think that low of me?" you laughed and leaned closer, waving the thermos dramatically in his face. “look! see? it’s hot chocolate!”
he leaned back, avoiding the container, his lips twitching like he was fighting off a smile.
“no, no,” you teased, moving the thermos side to side in his face as he tilted his head away. “you’re going to see for yourself.”
“stop,” he muttered, his voice still calm but laced with humor.
“look!” you insisted, waving it closer.
finally, he reached out, his hand carefully covering yours to still your movements. “alright,” he said, twinges of laughter in his voice. “i understand. it’s hot chocolate.”
his hand lingered for a second longer, and your eyecontact remained, before graysons eyes flickers across your face and his hand went back to its side.
''its a tuesday evening. and i'm on a rooftop.'' you sighed as you took a sip of your hot chocolate just to prove it even further, ''i'm not that reckless.''
you screwed the lid back on and put it back in your pocket, then you covered your hands with your sleeves in an attempt to fight off the cold.
''you think you're reckless? you should see my brother.'' grayson muttered, half to himself and half to you, but there was a softness in his voice.
you set your hand back down, and only then realised just how close it was to graysons. your fingertips were a hairbreadth away.
you felt like you physically couldn't pull your hand away, and even if you did could move, it would just make things awkward.
you remembered you had to respond to grayson's statement somehow. ''jameson practically invented dangerousness and recklessness and bad decisions. he doesn't count.'' you shot back jokingly as you looked at grayson.
he huffed a chuckle, looking at his lap and shaking his head slightly. surely he must've felt your hand right next to his.
your fingers twitched slightly. you could feel the tiny movements coming from his own hand- whatever you were thinking right now, he was clearly thinking the same thing.
you were acutely aware of the closeness of his hand to yours. your gaze stayed straight ahead. you didn't dare look at your hands.
your fingers inched a little closer to his. you heard your heartbeat in your chest.
the cold didn't seem like a problem any more, and you felt his callused fingertips run over the back of your hand. then your pinky interlocked with his.
it was a simple action, but it was near impossible to ignore the way it fuelled the part of your brain that screamed 'you like grayson!'
you stared down at your intertwined hands, you knew grayson did too, but neither of you said anything. he swallowed thickly and simply brought up a story of his brothers being 'truly reckless,' and how you seem like the furthest thing from it.
soon enough, the minutes turned to hours, and you discussed everything with grayson.
from the way school had been, plans you had for the winter, if you wanted to come to true north with him and his brothers for a few days (you said yes), stories he had from true north, and sharing horror stories of ski trips.
the conversation naturally began to lull. not in a bad way, but in a comforting way. you scooted a little closer to grayson with your hands still intertwined.
you looked up at the glittering sky, ''you know, i feel really bad for you right know.
''why?'' grayson looked at you,
''because you're not wearing your glasses, and you can't see the moon tonight.'' you responded simply, glancing at him for a second before looking back at the sky. ''it's really pretty.''
grayson took his gaze to the sky, and you were right, he couldn't really see it. he could just about see the shape of it, but that was it.
he took his gaze back to you, watching you admire the moon. ''i'm sure it is.''
you hummed a little in agreement, dangling your feet back and forth over the edge. a gush of freezing cold wind suddenly rushed past the two of you, and the way you physically shuddered made you both laugh.
''god,'' you chuckled, ''i should've worn a coat or something. i didn't know it would be so cold.''
grayson nodded, '''we are quite high up, naturally, its going to be colder up here,'' he gestured to the ground below. everything looked so small from all the way up here. that was partly why you loved it.
you had a hoodie on, but grayson held his arm open anyway and invited you in. you felt 10x warmer when he enveloped you into a side hug, but surely that was because of the cashmere sweater he wore, and not him.
''grayson?'' you hummed, your head on his shoulder.
''yes?''
''you know, um thanks for always being here,'' you muttered, feeling his fingers trace patterns on your arm , ''even when i'm irrational and i'm messy and I annoy you.''
he was silent for a moment, and you were tempted to look up so you could get a read on his face. ''you could never annoy me.''
you could practically feel his voices' vibrations, and his tone was soft. different from the way he usually talks with others- stern, assertive. but he wasn't that way with you.
''but i'm irrational and messy.'' you insisted.
his hand began to slowly run up and down your arm, soothing your nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. ''those aren't bad things.'' he told you. ''not when its you, at least.''
you stared at his hand interlinked with yours. not when its me? what does that mean? you thought.
you opened your mouth, just about to respond when— slam.
you and grayson jolted out of each others touch. your heart was beating crazily fast.
''holy shit,'' you put a hand on your chest, catching your breath as you and grayson caught eachothers gaze and laughed out of relief.
you quickly realised you had missed being in his arms, but you just couldn't return to a moment like that. a part of you wonders if it even happened, it felt so fleeting.
you nervously laughed, tucking your hair behind your ears before you carefully peered down over the edge to where you heard the noise.
you didn't feel any better or less frightened, though. the scene below you was your mom storming out the car, dressed like she had just gotten back from an event. you quite couldn't make out her words, and her pace was as fast as ever. even from afar, her posture looked rigid and her neck looked strained, like she was holding back tears or screams.
your dad got out of the car right after, slamming his side of the door too and shaking his head to himself as he tried to catch up to your mom. his hands were out like he was pleading or reasoning, and his expression was something dark that you didn't like.
grayson followed your gaze, seeing the scene you were looking at. he hadn't realised he was smiling a little until he felt his face drop.
grayson looked back at you, but it was hard to tear your gaze away from the scene, even when this scene was something you saw quite frequently. you tried to hone into your eavesdropping skills to hear what they were arguing about this time, but you were simply too far.
you name fell from his lips, and he repeated it twice when you didn’t answer. then finally asked, “are you alright?”
you didn't look straight at him, but he saw your expression. and he saw the way your fingers curled into a fist. you chewed on your bottom lip and blinked rapidly, then untucked your hair from behind your ears so it shielded your face.
he felt his heart drop. he had never seen you cry before.
you always acted as if nothing bothered you, and when it was obvious that something did, you hid it.
for a terrible moment, he worried that he wouldn't know what to do, that he'd somehow make things worse, but he simply let his actions come naturally.
he silently wished that this would be the last time he’d see you cry, he wished he could keep you happy forever.
you seemed to finally realise he was still looking at you, and you sat up straight.
''sorry— i’m sorry.'' you mumbled as you quickly wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands. ''oh my god,'' you let out a chuckle, like it would make him forget the tears. ''that was so embarrassing, i'm literally fine. i don't know what that was.''
grayson watched you try and regain a sense of normalcy, ''its not embarrassing to feel,'' he told you.
he knew that was highly hypocritical of him to say that, considering the way he acted, but he would truly sit with you for hours listening to you talk about your feelings. for days, until the end of time, even.
he'd always be there for you, and he wished you would believe him when he said it. ''would you,” he trailed off, gaze flickering between your features, “would you like to talk about it?”
he knew the answer was likely going to be no, because he knew you, but he wanted to let you know that he’d be there for you always, if you suddenly decided you did want to talk.
you were silent for a moment, and every second of it, with every shuddering breath you took, he felt a stronger urge to be the one who wiped your tears, the one who held you. he watched you tentatively, concern written all over his face.
he recently felt like his feelings were blurring over the lines of them being simply friendly.
“actually,'' you sniffled a little, ''can we not talk about it?” you said, just like he had suspected.
you felt him nod, and said no more after that. he wouldn't push you. he knew when it was right to be persistent, and when to simply stay silent.
you took a deep breath. ''i'm feeling even more messy and irrational right now,'' you tried to lighten the mood with another laugh, but it just sounded sad. ''i don't know why i got like that, i mean, its not even that bad, compared to others.''
graysons brows knitted together. ''it doesn't matter what its like compared to others.'' he told you, his voice steady while yours wavered.
you finally raised your head from his shoulder ever so slowly and looked at him. your expression was unfamiliar. it was pained.
his gaze flickered between your eyes. he found himself speaking once again.
''i don't care about the others, i care about you.'' he squeezed your hand slightly, ''you should care about you, too.''
present...
grayson was oddly exhausted. he doubted that has anything to do with the fact that he had slept at 2 in the morning, though. the first thing he did was take a cold shower, but even that didn't help.
he didn't like to have caffeine so early on an empty stomach, but it seemed like he had no choice.
''good morning.'' he nodded curtly at gigi who was leaning on the counter, making his way to the coffee machine.
she was looking at him strangely, but that wasn't a rare occurrence, so he paid it no mind. grayson took a mug out of the cabinet, then he heard gigi clear her throat from behind him. he raised a brow to himself, still looking down at his cup.
then he finally realised- gigi was in his house.
he turned around swiftly, cup still in his hand as his eyes glazed over gigi suspiciously.
''you're in my house.'' he pointed out blankly, and gigi rolled her eyes.
''why are you in my house?'' grayson ordered. now, he was definitely shaken out of his previous stupor.
''you know, you're a real idiot, grayson.'' that was not a good morning, or an answer to his question.
''excuse me?'' he put his cup down on the counter he was standing behind. he was confused why gigi was in his kitchen to begin with, much less calling him an idiot at the ripe hour of 6 in the morning as he tried to make his black coffee.
''listen,'' gigi put on a stern face and hopped on the counter, but it was difficult to take her seriously with her bed head and ever so slightly puffy face, clearly having just woken up. how could grayson possibly not hear her come in?
''im gonna cut straight to the point.'' she started, and Grayson was glad she said that, because he was not in the mood for anything else but an explanation. ''I'm here because you did something. ever since about 3 days ago when you visited she’s been acting all weird. she won’t tell me what’s wrong, but i know something’s up with her. and i know it has something to do with you.'
she didn’t even have to say your name, there was only one her when it came to grayson. ever since that day where you came up to him so many years ago, asking him why he sat alone. there was always one her. you.
a heavy weight settled over his chest. “what makes you think i visited?” he forced himself out of his thoughts and asked, not confirming he did visit you, but not fully denying it either.
gigi rolled her eyes like it was obvious before she stole a grape from the fruit basket on the counter she sat on top of. “she won't tell me anything, did her whole control freak routine. i woke up the next morning with the whole living room redone, her room layout completely changed, and every surface literally polished and sparkling. she doesn’t just do that for no reason. for anyone.”
gigi tried to sound unbothered about the topic when she spoke, but the way she fiddled with her hands gave it away to grayson. it was obvious though, no one would like to talk about how their best friend was hurting. just as much as no one would like to hear about it, and know they caused it.
could he even call you his best friend anymore? he had never said it outright to you, but he suddenly wished he had told you how much he appreciated you every second he had the chance.
“you must've messed up bad, gray.”
grayson averted his gaze. suddenly the fruits looked extremely interesting.
he couldn’t take back the horrible actions he made, the ways he tried to cope, the way he tried to silence his fears. they were done, they were his fault. that didn’t stop him from regretting them every single moment of his days. but even then, he still somehow seemed to be making the wrong choices.
“I suppose you wouldn't be able to give me any advice on what to do?'' he asked rhetorically, his voice carrying too much emotion than he would like. he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat.
grayson never asked for advice. he never asked for help. he did everything alone.
and look where that got him.
“hey, i'd give advice to you any time you need it!,'' gigi said half jokingly, tucked her hair behind both of her ears, her voice carried a weight that revealed that she could tell just how grayson was feeling.
''listen, i’d like to be super cool and mysterious, and give you some vague advice like ‘do whatever your heart tells you,’ or, ‘the right choices will find you,’'' gigi said, putting on a deep voice and making quotation marks with her fingers. ''but you somehow manage to always make the worst decisions ever. without fail.” her voice was back to normal, raising her eyebrows and pointing at him.
even he knew she was right.
“you’ve messed up way too much, and i don’t want you hurting my best friend any further, so i’ll give you this:” gigi continued, and grayson realized she wasn’t doing this for him, she was doing it for you. then, another thought that he been trying to avoid came up again: he hurt you much more than he had realised.
“talk to her. and stay. you know her better than anyone, why on gods green earth would you believe that when she said she’s ‘fine’ or that ‘she doesn’t care’ that she was seriously saying the truth?” gigis expression turned sour as she furrowed her brows, like the topic annoyed her to even speak about.
believe me, grayson thought, however aggravated you are about this, i’m infinitely more aggravated with myself.
“you’re annoyingly persistent sometimes, so make some good use out of it.” gigi said, “i’m not going to tell you the things she’s told me exactly, but, you must’ve been a real idiot to just stand there and nod when she tells you that a kiss you shared was a mistake.”
grayson wasn’t surprised gigi knew all of that. grayson figured that was all he would get from gigi, but he selfishly found himself wanting to know more about how you were feeling. he was grasping for anything. you had both seemingly cleared up the air, decided you were 'friends' again and nothing more, but you hadn't even talked since.
usually, in a time back when things were as perfect as they could’ve been, you would’ve been telling him first hand. now, he had to find out about how you felt because of him by his half sister.
it would never go back to the way it was. grayson could only hope to make it better than before.
he was no stranger to saying something, and meaning, truly longing for something completely different, so he didn't blame you for not
he wonders what he did wrong this time.
the girl, ella.
he was told it would be a good pr move on his end. he hadn’t been seen in the media for a while— which was how he liked it— but his team argued it would be good for him to resurface before the additions to the charities, to get more press.
he would’ve simply said no. it would've been final, and his team wouldve never brought tbut the girl, ella, was what ended up convincing him. she was trying to hide her relationship with a co star of hers, another girl grayson couldn’t quite remember the name of.
all he remembered was being told ella was being bombarded with rumors, and she needed to out a stop to them before the second season of her show premiered. she was severely distressed—it was her first show, and she herself hadn't even come out to the public yet.
so he agreed. it went on for 2 weeks until there was enough social media posts and tabloids posted of them two.
he thought about the way your voice wavered when he went over to talk, the way you eyed him silently, the way your body language contradicted your words. you were silently angry at him, but you stayed friendly. he didn't have to solve anything to figure that one out.
he could always understand you even when you didn't have the right words to say it yourself, or when you simply didn't want to. a picture played in his mind— one of him nodding his head with an arm around your shoulders, offering comfort silently when you mumbled ''actually, can we not talk about it?" into his chest quietly. he remembered how his heart ached.
you had both mastered the language that had been created and growing between you since the day you met. now, he still knew it, but he had nowhere to even put it to use. he doubts he could ever truly forget it, though.
grayson realised too late how horrible of an image the ella debacle must've painted in your eyes. it was possibly the worst choice he had ever made. right after the days he went not speaking to you, and the times he didn't stay.
he hated himself for the decisions he made, and gigi should've hated him too.
''why are you here, telling me this?'' grayson finally said. he was aware that his eyes were instinctively narrowed suspiciously, but he couldn't help it. gigi looked at him sympathetically.
''because, unfortunately, you guys are too stubborn and stupid to see what's clearly right infront of you.'' she said simply with a dramatic sigh. ''and you need me— the super-smart-all-seeing-gigi, to help the process along a little. and, despite the way you've been acting, you're my brother,'' her voice softened, ''and i don't like seeing you sad.''
he didn't even deny he was sad. there was no point. he contemplated asking more, brows furrowed as he looked at the counter infront of him, hands gripping the edges tightly. but he stayed silent instead, replaying gigi's words and trying to make more sense of them.
''...well, if that's all,'' she said, breaking the silence. ''i've got to go, i have a flight to catch.'' that explained why she was awake at 6 in the morning.
''where are you going?'' his grey eyes narrowed once again, this time, he was acutely aware of it.
''none of your business.'' she taunted, slipping right back into their sibling banter. ''well, actually—'' a smile stretched across her face despite her efforts, ''its noah, i don't know if you even remember him, but, he's taking me on a trip.'' she blurted, clearly too happy about that fact to remember that she was supposed to be holding a grudge against grayson. ''but— not that its any of your business, of course.''
grayson nodded. a part of him was hurt that gigi doubted he'd remember someone significant to her, but his mind went to a different place before he could dwell on that fact any longer.
he remembered one of the conversations he had with you, on the night you kissed.
''we know eachother. i trust you more than most.'' he once told you, remembering the way your eyes looked into his and the way they glinted when he finished his sentence. he remembered wanting to smile at that.
''yeah, and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.''
“is she truly happy?”
“yeah, gray, she really is happy.”
he cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present moment. he wouldn't focus on the past right infront of someone, he couldn't, it simply hurt too much. ''right.'' he said coldly, ''of course. have a safe flight, gigi.''
she smiled awkwardly and got up from the counter. she took an apple with her, and gave him one last look, one that made graysons heart twist.
''why did you have to ruin this?'' her eyes seemed to say. ''you're my brother. she's my best friend. why are you making me choose?"
grayson wished he had a response. instead, he just watched her walk off with his brows knitted slightly.
he exhaled a long breath once gigi left, his elbows on the counter as his head fell into his hands. he raked both hands through his hair, roughly, not like the way you would. he shook before he abruptly stood up.
so many feelings, yet he couldn't articulate a single one properly.
there was one that seemed clearer than the rest. he hated himself--for ruining things for and hurting you when all he wanted was to protect you.
he let out a low, bitter laugh to himself.
some protector he was.
he did the one thing he always did when he needed to think clearer, to have control over something when all else seemed to be wrong and disorderly.
he made his way outside, grabbed a towel, and went for the pool.
the water was icy against his skin, but he welcomed it. he pushed off the edge and began swimming laps, each stroke more forceful than the last.
the tension in his chest didn’t lessen—it grew, tightening with every thought of you.
he swam faster, rougher, but not deviating on his strict rigid form. he couldn't. 'you need to talk to her. and stay,' gigis words played out in his head.
should he reach out again? what if you get annoyed? what if you're sick of him?
he knew you must've been somewhat sad, judging by the fact that gigi came to him, but what if you were more angry? what if gigi read it wrong, and you really wanted nothing to do with him?
the only reason he doubted the last one was because gigi knew you better than anyone. she couldn't have read whatever you were feeling wrong. whatever she saw, she felt the resolution was for you two to fully see it out to the end. to 'talk and stay' with each other.
'you're grayson davenport hawthorne, you don't worry about what ifs.' he reminded himself. what would his grandfather say? much worse, he had no doubt.
besides, you were his best friend. doing something would be better than doing nothing and let the friendship and possibility of more slowly fade, then disappear.
he swam and swam, and ran through all the possible outcomes in his mind. he did this until his arms burned and his lungs begged for air. it still wasn’t enough, though.
grayson pushed through the pain, through the ache in his muscles, until he couldn’t anymore. gasping for breath, he finally stopped and hung onto the edge of the pool, his head tilted forward as water dripped down his face.
his chest was heaving, and the pain he had felt was finally all crashing down. it was easier to ignore when he was moving. he clenched his jaw with his grip on the pool’s edge tightening. he didn't feel any better. he didn't feel like he had any more control over his life.
he was an idiot. an idiot who was still drowning, even now, on dry land.
he pushed himself up and out of the pool, his brows furrowed frustradely and muscles taught as he dried off.
he wouldn't let himself mope around any longer.
his hair was still slightly wet as he sat at his office desk. he had taken another shower, this time, it was steaming hot.
his eyes kept flickering to his phone as he worked on his laptop. he found himself wanting to reach out and call you.
no, he needed to plan it better. he couldn't just expect you to answer and for you to listen to him.
but- wasn't how the problems arose in the first place? waiting for the perfect moment that never came?
it was that way years ago, it was that way a few weeks ago, and it seemed like it was about to be that way again.
he closed his eyes for a brief moment. focus. then he got back to work.
still, despite his efforts, he couldn't focus. his mind was in an entirely different place. he read over an email before he pressed send.
how did he manage to mistype no as know?
he stared at the powered off phone laying on his desk once again.
the last time he had texted you, every single one of his brothers had pushed him to.
now, he was utterly alone in his office. his brothers were all out of the house, and his black out curtains kept his room dark, except for the low orange lamps you had forced him to put in there 'to make it look less robotic'.
his eyes flickered to his phone one more time, and he finally retracted his hand from his laptops keyboard.
he turned on his phone, and from then on it was muscle memory, the one thing he would do whenever he was feeling lost. whenever he needed clarity in his peculiar life of his.
he called you.
the phone rang, his thumb hesitated over the red cancel button, but he couldn't. he'd look like even more of a coward.
he was still unblocked, and despite not speaking to each other for so long, you picked up.
''hello?''
his heart beat faster than it did when he swam. ''hey, its grayson.''
you were silent for a second, ''I know.''
you phrased it like a question, almost.
''i apologise for the abrupt call, but, there seems to be a gap in my life where our daily phone calls once were, and to be frank, i missed them.'' he said it straight forward. he prayed that gigi's advice was right. he started the talk part, now he needed to stay. ''how have you been?''
“uh,” you laughed slightly on the other line, and grayson found himself missing the jokes you’d make that he’d call terrible, the nonsensical rants, or the way you’d beg to pick the movie to watch every single without fail on those movie nights you’d hold every friday. the one time he picked, it was the night you kissed. the night where everything changed, and grayson couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse.
''well, I just broke my glasses, for one.'' you replied, ''like, literally two seconds ago.'' he heard the laugh in your voice, like the reasoning behind it was funny. but you didn't tell him the the story behind it.
you stayed silent, and that was one of the major tells things weren't how they used to be. stay, he reminded himself.
you were the type of person that when he'd ask about your day, you'd talk about every single detail, down to the tiniest things like your losing your favourite pen or tripping over a rock on your morning walk.
he didn't realise he could miss something so much.
''so uh,'' you cut into his thoughts with a small laugh that he could tell was out of nervousness. ''i need to go fix that. but other than that, i'm pretty good.'' grayson nodded, even though you couldn't see him.
''shame about your glasses, those frames did really suit you.'' he let the words escape his lips before he could think twice.
''thanks, but, they are long gone, for now, at least.'' you said. ''besides, them breaking now gives me an excuse to wear contacts. looking on the bright side.. but uh, enough of me, how are you?
grayson leaned back in his chair, ''ive been alright. however, i've been thinking,'' he began, ''i know we've sorted things out since i last saw you, but we haven't talked much, and i think it would be quite nice for us to see each other some time.''
''oh,'' your voice was quiet on the other end, and grayson sat back up straight again. ''yeah- yeah, sure. i was actually thinking about that earlier today. but i didn't really know how to talk to you, so, I'm glad you said something.''
gigi's advice was right.
'didn't really know how to talk to you.' that part made graysons chest hurt strangely, like he was back in the pool.
''what an odd coincidence,'' he responded simply.
you hummed before you spoke, your voice was quiet on the other line. ''I thought you didn't believe in coincidences.''
he was silent
''sorry,'' you chuckled, ''I don't know why I said that, it just popped up in my mind- you used to say it all the time, and... yeah.''
don't apologise, you haven't done anything wrong. youre right, I usually don't.
what changed?
the response in his mind was instant: he met you.
''strangely enough, i'm not too sure.''
he heard you snort from the line, ''well, isn't that a first?'' you muttered, not giving him a chance to respond before you started again. ''um, gigi actually left for the airport this morning, so i'm incredibly bored right now.''
''would you like to organise something for today, then?''
you laughed again, ''is that your weird way of asking me if i want to hang out today?"
''you know i've never been particularly skilled in these areas.''
''oh boy, i know.'' you exhaled, ''well, i'll be heading to the park at like, 12, so...'' you trailed off, and he heard a slight smile in your voice. he wished he was seeing it, instead. ''if someone happened to, you know, coincidentally be there, i wouldn't necessarily turn and run away.''
he couldn't stop his own grin, though he knew he shouldn't feel too happy just yet. ''is that your strange way of telling me to meet you at the park at noon?''
''yes,'' you didn't miss a beat, ''it is.''
taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @cant-see-sam
#𝜗𝜚 walking out the door with your bags series#grayson hawthorne#grayson hawthorne x reader#the inheritance games#the grandest game#jameson hawthorne#xander hawthorne#nash hawthorne#tig#tgg#grayson hawthorne fanfic#grayson hawthorne x you#grayson hawthorne fluff#❦ jude writes
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I Want It All
a/n - im new to writing shit like this okay 🙁 part two soon!?!!??
warnings- smut, fingering, oral, p in v, cursing, spitting, dirty talk, if i missed any let me know!
~~~
Ever since their film wrapped, Timothée was constantly texting and facetiming her. He missed her, a lot.
She missed him too, though. They got along so well and so quickly, and she didn't even try to hide that she liked him. She really liked him. Nothing ever happened between them, but the tension was definitely there. She blamed that on him not wanting to do anything while they were still coworkers.
But now, well, they just have their promotional run to go on so who cares? She knows that's what he's thinking now. And she loves it. She's waited patiently.
She knew that she had him wrapped around her finger.
Her phone ringing cuts off her thoughts, it was a FaceTime from Timmy. She smirked and answered it, “Hey Timothée, what's up?”
He smiled at her and ran his fingers through his hair before responding, “I miss youuuuuu, y/n/n. Where you at right now?”
She giggles and moves her head down, hiding her blush from him, “I'm at home, tried watching a new movie but started scrolling on tiktok instead.” She replies, resting her head on her hand.
He laughs and admires her, she notices that he's walking outdoors and hears the traffic in the background. “You're cute.” He grins.
“Where you going?” She curiously asks.
“I'm just walking around, figured I'd call you since we haven't talked in a while.”
“Didn't we talk yesterday?”
“... So a while.” He says, she giggles and jokingly shakes her head at him. “I can't wait until our press tour. I miss joking around with you.”
“Me too. It was so weird getting used to not seeing you everyday anymore.” She says, he frowns and looks down, turning off his camera.
“Timmy?”
“One second, Y/n/n.”
“You're so rude I was literally talking to you.” She teases and hears him laugh over a gust of wind.
There's a knock at the door, which makes her huff and get up, still holding the phone, “Hold up, I'm about to get murdered.” She jokes before looking in the peephole and seeing Timothée.
She gasps and rushes to open the door, embracing him as soon as it opens. “You're literally insane! What are you doing here?!” She grins. Timothée chuckles, and his hands go in her hair as he kisses her head.
“Thought I'd surprise you, we haven't hung out in so long… and I- I don't want you to get used to not seeing me.” He said, pulling away and smiling down at her.
“God, what an amazing gesture, Timmy.” She smiles, closing the door behind him, “What do you feel like doing?” She asks as she follows him to her couch.
“There’s a lot that I feel like doing with you, Y/n.”
She watches as he sits down, resting his arm on the back of the couch, “Yeah? Like what?” she smirks, slowly sitting down next to him.
His eyes slowly move from her exposed thighs in her pajama shorts, up to her short-sleeved, cropped shirt, and then finally to her eyes. He shifts closer to her and softly exhales, “You know what.” He says softly, so softly that she could barely hear it. Her heart skips a couple of beats at his words, she’s been waiting for this for so long and it’s finally happening. Timothée tilts his head closer to her, his lips mere inches from hers, “I really wanna kiss you right now, y/n/n.”
She responds by closing the gap between them and pressing her lips on his, he moans into it and pulls her closer so she’s basically on his lap. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” She mumbles against his lips before kissing him again, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“Me too. Fuck- I thought of this so much.” He gasps, his hands staying on her waist as she slips her tongue between his lips. “Mmm, I wanna fuck you so bad Y/n, please.”
She moans and nods, but he shakes his head, “Say something, baby.” He says, one of his hands moving up to the back of her neck. She tries not to whine at the pet name.
“Yes please, Timmy.”
He smiles and quickly moves her to lie on the couch, kissing down her neck all the way to her thighs.
He pulls down her shorts and kisses the top of her pussy through her panties, she moans and her hips raise a bit, making him chuckle.
His finger pulls down her underwear, tracing along her leg before he tosses them behind him.
“You're so fucking beautiful.” He says, meeting her eyes. He licks his fingers and gently traces them along her folds before pushing two of them inside her, moaning along with her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Fuck, Timothée.” She whines as he admires her face contorting in pleasure as he slowly fingers her.
He looks down at his fingers covered in her slick as she clenches around him and hums.
“Y'know after we wrapped and went home, I couldn't stop thinking about you. What I should've done. What I should've told you. I could've had you already, princess.” He says, his mouth watering at the sight of her pussy.
Y/n hums, closing her eyes as she enjoys the feeling of his fingers inside of her. Timothée pulls her legs to hang over his shoulders before licking at her clit, causing a loud moan to escape her throat. Her hands go to his hair as he continues licking along her folds, his fingers speeding up as he curls them inside of her, hitting that perfect spot.
“Fuck yes.” She moans, the grip on his hair tightening.
He kisses her clit before he pulls away and spits on her pussy, instantly spreading it around with his thumb, slowly rubbing her clit, eliciting a loud moan from Y/n. Her hips start to roll against his fingers, chasing her release.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Timothée moans, licking at her pussy as her moans get louder and louder.
“I’m so fucking close, Timmy.” She whines, and his fingers get faster and somehow a little deeper as they hit that spot once again.
“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers, my gorgeous girl.” He smirks, feeling her continuously clench around his fingers.
She moans as her orgasm hits her, her toes curling as Timothées fingers keep their pace through it. He slows them down as she comes down, slowly pushing them in and out as she hums.
“You’re fucking amazing.” She says finally, Timothée chuckles and pulls his fingers out, licking them as she smiles up at him.
“No, you’re fucking amazing. And you taste so fucking good.” He says, moving his head back down to lick up the juices on her pussy. She softly moans at the feeling of his warm tongue back between her folds.
He pulls away and sits up, gently yanking on her leg to pull her closer, she sits up as well and is now eye to eye with him. He leans in to kiss her which she accepts, letting his tongue slip between her lips for a second before pulling away and looking down.
“What’s wrong?” He mutters against her lips, caressing her face with one hand, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone.
“I just- I don’t want this to be some one time thing, or a friends with benefits thing, or some casual thing. I-”
Timothée cuts her off with a chuckle and shakes his head.
“You know I’m not like that, y/n/n. I want you and only you.” He states, she’s quiet for a moment.
“When you say you want me…”
“I want everything with you. I want lazy days, date nights, I want to meet your sisters and learn all your embarrassing stories from when you were little. I want to fight and then make love to you to make up, I want to have sleepovers where we stay up talking the whole night, I want you to meet my parents and make them love you with your first impression. I want it all with you, Y/n.” He finishes, nervously meeting her eyes.
She's awestruck, her eyes are watery as her mouth is agape at his words. She smashes her lips against his, moving her legs over so she's on his lap now. Timothée hums in surprise but kisses her back, his hands now on her thighs. He gently squeezes her soft skin as he slowly makes out with her, their tongues weaving with each other.
“Let's go to my room.” She says against his lips before kissing him again, he viciously nods and gets up, still holding onto her as he makes his way to her room. “Mmm, you remember.” She teases, making him laugh and nod.
“Course I do.” He says as he lays her down, pulling his shirt off before nipping at her neck. He finds her sweet spot pretty quickly and sucks a mark onto it before going back to her lips. “There's just something about these lips, baby.” He hums, she moans and runs her hands across his torso, slowly guiding hair hands to his back, pulling him closer to her.
“I need you.” She says as she pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting them.
He nods and nips at the neckline of her shirt, “Let's get this off then, babygirl.”
She blushes, but lets him pull it up and over her head, he kisses at her breasts right away. “You look so good, baby.”
“Take these off now.” She says, unbuckling his pants.
He chuckles and kicks them off, only his underwear on. She bites her lip and sits up, kissing him again before speaking, “Do you want me to get you ready?”
He shakes his head, his cheeks reddening as he opens his mouth to reply, “No… I- I've been ready for… a while.” He laughs, looking down in between them.
She giggles, “You're so fucking hot… I can take care of you too, Timmy.”
“No no no, I need to be inside you as soon as possible.” He says, laying her back down and getting back on top of her. She smiles at that as he positions himself so he's between both of her legs and he slips his underwear off.
She gasps at the sight of his dick, already leaking with precum, “Fuck me.”
"That's the plan." He chuckles and kisses her cheek before pumping himself a couple of times before she stops him.
“Wait wait!” She exclaims and quickly sits up.
Timothée kneels back and watches as she reaches into her nightstand and pulls out a condom. She opens it and goes to slide it on him, making him gasp at the touch.
She smirks and licks at it before slowly rolling it on, watching as his eyes shut and he curses to himself.
“You're fucking evil." He teases, "Now I literally can't wait any longer, Y/n/n.” He says, she giggles and lays back down, wrapping her legs around him as he runs his cock through her folds and finally pushes himself inside her.
They moan in unison at the feeling, he rests his forehead against hers as he bottoms out, groaning at how warm she is.
“Fuck baby, you're so tight. You feel perfect.” He moans, his eyes locked on hers, her cheeks flush at that.
He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, making a yelp escape her mouth.
“Yeah? You're so fucking big, Timmy. Your cock stretches me so good.” She moans, moving her hands to his biceps as his thrusts reach a steady, pleasurable pace.
Every time he thrusts inside her, she moans, making him even hornier, kissing along her chest and her mouth, swallowing her moans.
She clenches around his dick, making him groan, “Fuck yes, do that again baby. Fuck you're perfect.”
She grins and clenches again, making him get louder and rougher. “I love hearing you, Timothée.” She moans, pulling his head down to kiss him, licking at his lips as his breaths get heavier.
“Yeah? You like being loud?” He moans, one of his hands pinching her nipple and squeezing her boob.
“Uh huh. Fuck yeah, let me hear you, Timmy.” She whines as his thrusts get quicker, the sound of their juices now filling the room as his cock pulses inside her silky walls.
She gets wetter and wetter with each movement from him which he loves, a constant stream of moans leaving his mouth now.
He sticks his thumb in her mouth, placing it on her tongue. She sucks on it for a moment before he pulls it out and places it right on her clit, she squirms underneath him and grips his arm tightly at the sensation.
“You're so fucking wet, babygirl. I don't want this to end. I don't ever wanna leave your pretty little pussy.” He moans, slowing down his thrusts and his thumb on her clit.
She moans at his words and clenches her pussy around him again, he groans and stops thrusting completely. He adjusts her legs so they're now on his shoulders and he pulls her hips closer to him.
She wails at the change and rolls her hips along with his, his dick now hitting that perfect spot inside of her.
“I've literally dreamed of this so much. It's even better than my dreams.” He moans, his thrusts getting back to a steady pace and his hands caressing her thighs.
“You're better than any dream.” She moans, bringing her hand up to play with her nipple.
Timothée throws his head back at the sight, speeding up his thrusts, “You're fucking exquisite.” He groans and looks in between them, letting a stream of spit leave his mouth and land on her pussy.
She moans at the warm sensation and goes to spread it around her clit but Timothées hand stops her, his thumb pressing on her clit once again, rubbing harsh circles as she moans. The constant clenching of her pussy pushes him near the edge.
“I don't want this to end yet, please.” He moans, slowing down his hips again.
Y/n blushes and rubs his arm, “I'm so close, baby. You’re doing so good.”
Timothée grunts, pushing her legs open and to the sides, quickening his thrusts, hitting her g-spot repeatedly, Y/n moaning louder and louder with each thrust.
“Cum around me, my angel.” He sighs, and at his words the coil in her lower abdomen releases and she cums, her body shaking as his thumb continues rubbing her clit through her orgasm.
Timothée cums as he watches the pleasure overtake her, he groans and leans forward, placing his lips on hers. They swallow each other's moans as his thrusts slowly come to an end, and their pants are the only noise now feeling the room.
“That was… phenomenal.” He says, not pulling out of her yet, he bends his arms so he’s comfortably above her and places his forehead against hers. She whines at the feeling of him still inside her and nods in agreement.
“We should’ve started dating a while ago, huh?” She laughs, scanning Timmy's face, his eyes closed as he catches his breath.
She runs her finger along his chest, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. She smiles at the reaction his body has to her touch and sighs.
He chuckles and nods, “For real. I dunno how we’re gonna be able to get through the promo without touching each other. I miss your body already, and I’m still fucking inside of you.” He opens his eyes again and beams down at her, his cheeks still red and sweat still glistening on both of their bodies.
“Me either, do you know how long I wanted to jump your bones? And now that we did…. Yeah, it’s gonna be tough, babe.” She giggles, making him laugh.
He shrugs, “I guess we just gotta get it out of our system as much as possible.” He replies, pushing her hair behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, kissing her nose.
“You’re handsome.” She compliments, nudging his nose with hers. They both sigh as he pulls his dick out of her, he moans as he sees her cum start leaking out of her fluttering hole. He hums and lays down next to her. She closes her eyes, the events of the day getting to her, and he wraps an arm around her waist, kissing her neck.
They fall asleep together, breathing in unison, excited about what their future now holds together.
*
#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothee chalamet imagine#timothée chalamet#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee imagine#timothee x reader#timothee chalamet au#timothee chalamet x you#timothée chalamet x reader#timothée chalamet imagine#timothee chalamet fluff#timothee fanfic#timothée chalamet smut#timothée x reader#timothée chalamet x you
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MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국
𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…
when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.
based on this ask
from the grande series ୨ৎ
pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader
genre: fwb au
warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!
word count: 18k
a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp
🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive
────୨ৎ────
Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.
After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?
It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?
Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.
It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.
In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.
It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”
You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.
He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.
Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.
From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.
Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.
These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.
You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.
You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).
But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.
It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.
So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.
He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.
Except, there’s actually no other guys.
Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.
Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.
You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.
But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.
You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.
That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.
But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.
Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.
“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”
Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.
He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.
You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.
Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.
You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.
At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.
Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.
It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”
And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.
He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.
Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”
A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.
With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”
The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”
His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”
“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.
Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”
“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.
Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.
He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”
“No!”
A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”
You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.
You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”
“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”
“You’re not my best friend.”
His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”
“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.
You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.
And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”
“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”
“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.
“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.
He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”
”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”
Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”
The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”
You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?
Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?
You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.
And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”
“Namjoon.”
Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”
Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.
“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”
He grimaces, “Gross.”
“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”
“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.
“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”
He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”
“…Namjoon.”
“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”
You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”
“Namgi.”
“Namjoon.”
“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.
You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”
“Give me a kiss, brat.”
The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.
You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.
────୨ৎ────
Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.
Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.
Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.
You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.
Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?
Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.
As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.
Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.
Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.
You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.
But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.
It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.
You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.
Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.
But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.
It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.
You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.
You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.
When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.
At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.
But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.
That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.
Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.
The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.
You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.
He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.
You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.
Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.
It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.
Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.
You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.
Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?
When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?
You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.
Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.
The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.
Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.
You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.
The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.
But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?
Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?
A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.
You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”
You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”
“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.
The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.
Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.
It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.
There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.
He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.
With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.
Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.
No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.
She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.
Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.
It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?
The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.
With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.
It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.
And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”
Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“
“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”
It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.
Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.
He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.
You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.
He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.
It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.
Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.
You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.
“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.
When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.
You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“
“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.
You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.
Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.
You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Talk about what?”
“Namjoon.”
You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.
A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.
Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”
“No.”
Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”
“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”
Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.
The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”
He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”
“He was just talking with some of his—”
“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”
Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!
That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”
Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.
You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.
When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”
You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.
Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”
Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”
“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.
Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.
Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.
He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.
It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.
The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.
It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.
When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.
Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.
It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.
No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.
He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.
Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.
Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.
“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”
Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.
“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”
Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.
You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”
The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.
Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”
You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”
Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.
He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”
“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.
“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.
“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”
The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.
It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”
As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.
His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”
Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.
He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”
“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.
You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.
You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.
With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.
If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.
You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”
Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”
You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.
If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.
Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.
Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”
The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”
You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.
But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.
You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”
Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.
But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.
Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”
Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.
The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.
Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.
The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.
Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.
He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.
You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.
When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.
He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.
You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”
Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.
Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.
You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”
The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”
“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.
“You want me to be your boyfriend?”
“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”
“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”
You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”
The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.
You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.
You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.
When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”
He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.
You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.
You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”
You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”
The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”
The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.
Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.
Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.
Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?
Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.
Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”
“Yes, we got it.”
“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.
Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”
The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”
“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”
The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.
He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.
────୨ৎ────
“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”
In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.
“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.
It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.
If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.
You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”
The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”
Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”
“What about me?”
The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.
He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”
“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.
The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.
The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”
“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”
Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.
You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”
Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.
Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”
When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.
You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”
“Oh. He’s going fast.”
“I like that.”
“I know you do.”
No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”
Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”
“And I’ll say it again.”
“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”
Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.
He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?
“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”
Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.
He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.
The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.
You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”
“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”
You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”
You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.
He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.
His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?
Oh.
The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.
The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.
And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.
Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?
────୨ৎ────
It should be easy. It is easy.
Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.
Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.
“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.
Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”
The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”
On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”
“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”
Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.
“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.
So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”
The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”
Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.
Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.
"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.
Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”
“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”
What. The. Fuck.
That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.
────୨ৎ────
You feel stupid.
Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.
A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.
Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.
You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.
You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.
The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.
Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.
You [9:39 p.m.]: hi
You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol
The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole
Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.
You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is
You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal
You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv
You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up
sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn
The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).
You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok
You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk
You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10
The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.
You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.
Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.
You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.
Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.
The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.
But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.
“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”
You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”
“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.
“You’re… happy for—”
“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.
Huh?
You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”
“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”
Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.
And you can’t stand it.
You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.
Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.
You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk
The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.
sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?
You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?
sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???
sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird
You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.
You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.
You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.
sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺
You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.
sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this
You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.
The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.
“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”
But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”
“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”
“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.
You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”
The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”
Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”
“Do you really think of me like that?”
The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.
You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”
Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.
But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.
Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”
“What the fuck?”
The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”
“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.
It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.
But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”
Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?
“Nothing even happened with her.”
The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”
“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”
“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.
“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”
He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”
Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.
When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”
The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.
You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.
“But I don’t want you to.”
The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"
"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.
You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”
The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.
It isn’t enough. You need more.
Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”
Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.
You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.
You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”
That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.
“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”
“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”
“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”
You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.
You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”
“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”
The question is simple.
Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?
The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.
You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.
Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.
Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.
It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.
It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”
"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.
“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.
It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.
The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”
“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.
The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.
Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”
You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”
He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”
You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”
His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”
“...No Haeun?”
“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”
You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”
His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.
“Yeah.”
Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”
You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”
Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.
They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.
When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”
“Prove it.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts x reader#bts smut#bts imagines#bts fic#bts series#bts#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x original character#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#bts x fem!reader#bts x you#📓: the grande series#📁.tgs: motherfuckin’ trainwreck!
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𝒥 : PLACES THEY LOVE TO KISS — enha
はい bf!enha x f!r . . . 🍵 warning. kissing duh ! + FLUFF ★ seiu msg: wanna get back on to writing stuff soon in the mean time enjoy this! rbs/feedbacks are appreciated
— HEESEUNG LEE
heeseung loves kissing your neck because he knows it gets you hot and bothered, he loves the sudden shocked squeak you let out when he random kisses your neck, he came behind you, gracing his cold lips on your neck “AH what’s wrong with you seung” you turned towards him, your hand on the place he kissed “my lips are cold, i ate ice cream” he said pulling you back “so?”
“so i gotta warm them up” he said as he bit ur neck lightly, kissing it, his breath leaving tingling feels down your spine, something about neck kisses just makes you feel light headed “i know you love it princess” he whispered, his hands roaming around your body as he blabbers like a loser.
— JAY PARK
jay loves kissing your lips, though it very common but for him it is special, he love the feeling of his lips against yours, especially after you put on lipgloss or lipstick “jayyyy i just put it on, look it’s all smeared and on your lips too” you said frustrated as you try to fix your lipstick, “it’s a nice colour i like it on you” he said snaking his hands again around your waist as he turns you around “doesn’t give you an excuse to ruin it, and we have to go or else we will be late to the party” you said resisting his touch as he leaned over again.
“doesn’t matter” he said as his lips moved against yours, his hands around you waist, him teasing your lips by lightly nipping on it, your hands in his hair tousling it.
“we got stuck in the traffic sorry” he said to his friend as you shot him glares, did i forget to tell you that he loves kissing you when you are mad at him? works like a charm, all the anger goes poof.
— JAKE SIM
jake loves to nom on your cheeks , he says it’s like bread. he loves to peck your cheeks at any given moment, or just have his face smooshed by yours, if he could he could live under your skin. jake likes to bite your cheeks while pecking them despite being warned a hundred times to not, but how can you resist his puppy eyes.
sometimes he get this kissing aggression towards you where he just keep on kissing and giggling as you try to escape him “jake too much” you say as he kissed you all over your face, “not enough” he said as he continues smooching your cheeks, biting them “nom, you taste like strawberries” jake hugs you as he calms down, cuddling you.
— SUNGHOON PARK
he loves collarbone kisses, loves to randomly feather kisses around your collarbone while cuddling, exact reason that despite being so tall he like you be a small spoon most of the times, likes to be a princess “hoon it tickles” you said as he pressed kisses, he loves when you wear off shoulder as he gives him easy excess but if not then he just pulls the piece of clothing you are wearing to expose your collarbone, now that has gotten him in trouble when he accidentally rip your clothing’s neckline but that obviously never stopped him.
“i will get you more mmm” he said as he kept kissing you, he loves to inhale the soft and mild scent of your perfume.
— SUNOO KIM
loves to kiss your forehead, to appreciate even the smallest of things you do for him, while that’s very sweet of him and you love it with all your heart, there are times when he likes to annoy you by kissing you after applying your lip tint so now you have kiss mark on your forehead, or kissing it and then telling how small you are.
towers over you sometimes so you look up at him and he can kiss your forehead.
“i got nice scores this time” you told sunoo as he smiles and kisses you forehead “im proud of you love”
— JUNGWON YANG
he likes to kiss your nose, just a little boop to make you laugh, you talking about your day? oh he is so in love, boop, you are cooking? he is drawn in by your beauty, boop, you are just laying around? you look so cute, he can’t believe you are his, boop.
“why do you like kissing my nose so much” he looks at you as he smiles, eyes closing like a cat as he kisses your nose “because you are cute” it’s a way he expresses his love, it’s his way of saying he treasures you and a simple expression of his limitless love for you
— RIKI NISHIMURA
he loves to bury his face in your neck after a long day and kiss your shoulders, just like sunghoon he loves when you wear off shoulder dress or else he just pulls on them, but lucky for him you wear his oversized hoodies all the time so it’s easy to gain excess, sometimes it’s hard to express who he feels, or how much he loves you so he just kisses your shoulder and hope you understand his attempt to say ‘i love you’s’.
“what’s wrong baby” you asked as you played with hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck “just tired” he said nuzzling “aww poor baby” you said as you kissed his head “you better not tell how act with you” he warned you still kissing your shoulders.
“like a baby? AHH-” your giggles turned into sudden shock as he bites you “oh that left a mark” you smacked him with a pillow as he laughed and dodged it “not tired anymore huh?” you said pouting moving away from him just to get pulled back to his lap “i am” he pecked you “meanie” he snicked at your pouty lips before kissing it.
#enhypen headcanons#enhypen scenarios#jake x reader#niki x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#jay x reader#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo imagines#sunghoon imagines#park jay imagines#sim jake imagine#jungwon imagines#niki imagines#niki scenarios#jungwon scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#heeseung scenarios#enhypen#sunghoon scenarios#enhypen reactions#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon fluff#yang jungwon#niki fluff#can u see how i love riki pt2
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geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt
OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD
a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers
wc: 2.9k
warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut
geto was a sweet roommate.
he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.
even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.
it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.
the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,
“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”
shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”
gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.
“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”
suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.
today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.
“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.
there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.
“(y/n)? love? you okay?”
“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”
“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”
geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.
“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”
geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.
“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.
geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.
what would it be like to actually wear it?
the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.
peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.
“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.
you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.
you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?
the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”
setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.
“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.
your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.
oh, shit.
and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.
fuck, did i say that out loud?
you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.
“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.
“yea— yeah…”
geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.
suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”
your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.
“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”
your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.
“yeah?”
you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.
“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.
“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.
“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.
geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.
“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.
“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.
“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.
you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”
“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”
you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”
your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”
he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.
geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.
“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him.
“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.
“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.
“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”
you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.
once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”
you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.
he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.
you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—
as his roommate and maybe now, something more.
part two ♡
#anon#asks#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk thirsts#jjk drabbles#geto x reader#geto smut#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#getou suguru smut#geto x you#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#getou x reader#jjk geto#jujutsu kaisen geto
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⟢ JUST FOR THE NIGHT
presenting kinktober day 4 ➔︎ rafe x reader x trevor
warnings: threesome, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), degrading, praise, squirting, creampie, slight breeding, 18+ mdni word count: 2.8k a/n: rafe's dialogue is in bold + trevor's is in italics (warning that this is my first time writing a threesome)
kinktober m.list ⟡ rafe m.list ⟡ main m.list
you and your boyfriend, trevor, were at some random halloween party that a friend of yours invited you to. you weren’t familiar with who lived in the big house other than knowing you were in figure eight, but you didn’t care, you were merely here to have fun. throughout the night, you began to let loose due to the number of shots you and trevor had consumed.
your ears perked at your favorite song playing, and you squealed, dragging your boyfriend through the crowd of bodies. trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, “god, you look so sexy, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his soft lips peppering kisses along your neck to your shoulder as both of you move to the music.
his hands roamed up and down your waist, resting under your tits, and you hummed to the song as your eyes drifted to see a tall blonde, who looked identical to your boyfriend, watching the two of you. your eyes meet rafe’s as he sips his drink, his eyes raking up and down your body, and you can see the corner of his lip twitching upwards when he sees trevor walking away before quickly downing what was left in the red solo cup and setting it aside to make his way to you.
“what do we have here? little red riding hood, huh?” rafe smirked, his tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, taking in your costume. his index finger trailed over the top of your dress, right above your tits, “you’re a pretty little thing,” he paused, “you know, i’ve been watching you since the minute you stepped foot into my house.”.
“your house?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “mhm, what? you don’t know who i am?” he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you into his hard, muscular chest, swaying you along with the music. you shook your head and a laugh rumbled in his chest, “you’re in tannyhill, does that ring a bell in that pretty head of yours?”.
“no, i’m not a local, just here with my boyfriend for a few weeks to visit a friend,” you muttered, “just visiting a friend, huh? and where did your boyfriend run off to?” he hummed. before you could respond, you felt a second pair of hands on your hips, “who’s your friend, baby?” trevor rasped, pressing himself against you.
you stared at the man in front of you, realizing you never caught his name, “rafe,” he introduced himself to both you and your boyfriend. you craned your neck to look back at trevor to see he was looking back and forth between you and rafe, noticing how your eyes were glazed over and taking note of your bottom lip sucked between your teeth when you looked at rafe. he knew the look on your face all too well and leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “you could deny it all you want, but i know that look a little too well. you want him to fuck you, don’t you?”.
you chewed on your lip anxiously, glancing over at rafe, who had an amused look on his face and was trying to decipher your facial expression. sure, you and trevor briefly mentioned wanting to try something new, but the thought didn’t stop you from rubbing your thighs together.
“it’s okay if you do, baby. i could share you for one night,” your boyfriend whispered. “are you sure?” you hesitated, unsure whether he was serious since the two of you had never acted on the idea before. “mhm, i‘m sure. wanna know why? because you’re mine, and at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me, no one else,” trevor reassured, his hands rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.
“we can try it, only if you want to. i don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” trevor murmured. his reassurance made your heart flutter, and you gave him a small nod, “i’m not uncomfortable, i do want to try, i’m just nervous.”
it didn’t take much to convince rafe, who had a smug look etched on his face; all he had to hear from your boyfriend was, “heard that, cameron? my girl wants you to join,” before he led the two of you upstairs to his bedroom. once the three of you entered the room, rafe locked the door.
in a matter of seconds, you were sandwiched between both men with trevor’s lips on yours while rafe led wet, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. rafe’s hands slide up your waist, cupping and squeezing your tits through your costume as they both back you to the edge of the bed. trevor worked at the zipper of your costume, unzipping it and shrugging it off your shoulders, letting it pool onto the floor, leaving you in only your lace thong and knee-high socks. he pulled away to lay back on the bed, “c’mere, wanna feel your sweet cunt on my tongue.”.
his fingers hooked into the waistband of your thong, pulling them down and tossing them to rafe, who stuffs them into the pocket of his pants. you swung your leg over trevor’s torso, and he grabbed your hips, yanking you back until your glistening cunt hovered over his face. “oh—“ a small squeak erupts from your throat when he licks a stripe along your slick folds, flattening his tongue. your hips bucked forward when he flicked and swirled his tongue onto your clit, “go on, baby, make rafe feel good while i eat this pretty pussy.”.
rafe‘s fingers thread through your hair, holding your head upright as he kicks his pants and boxers aside. his cock sprung out, slapping against his lower abdomen, and your mouth couldn’t help but water at the sight of his hard, veiny cock. he teasingly slaps the head of his cock against your lips, coating them with his precum, “be a good girl and open your mouth.”.
you part your lips, letting your tongue dart out to lick at the bead of precum before swirling your tongue around his tip. he tugs at the roots of your hair, sinking his length deeper into your warm, wet mouth, “fuck, knew you’d look pretty with your mouth stuffed full.”.
trevor’s arms hooked over your thighs, pinning them down, his tongue working in tandem when your hips moved feverishly against his mouth. “shit–” rafe grunts, feeling your throat constrict around him when trevor’s tongue slips inside you, his nose grinding against your swollen clit. “you like that, baby? like having your pussy ate while sucking dick?” your boyfriend groaned.
you mumbled incoherently around rafe in response, your tongue running along the underside of his cock as tears well in your eyes from rafe pushing your head further down, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he brutally fucks your mouth. his grip tightens on your hair when you try to pull away as you gag around him.
your muffled moans increasingly become more persistent as trevor skillfully works his tongue, flicking and sucking your sensitive bundle of nerves. you pathetically rut against trevor’s mouth, your legs trembling, feeling the tightening in your stomach growing tenfold and crying out as your orgasm washes over you.
the sight of your mascara-stained face was enough to send rafe over the edge, “shit, ‘m gonna cum,” he panted. his hips faltering, your nose tickling the small patch of hair resting below his belly button as he pushes his dick deep into your mouth, shooting thick ropes of cum down your throat.
he pulled away, swiping his thumb against the string of spit that connected between your lips and his tip. he collected the small amount of cum that dribbled out before pushing his thumb into your mouth, groaning when you sucked it clean, “good girl, so eager to please, huh?”.
you bit your lip before gasping when trevor tossed you onto your back, kissing his way up your body to your lips, “did so fuckin’ good, baby,” he praised, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, whining and sitting up when he broke the kiss at rafe’s words, “bet that pretty little cunt feels even better than your mouth.”.
“i don’t think so, cameron, you can fuck her ass. her pussy was only made for me; it’s off-limits,” trevor snorted. you look between both men, your gaze settling on your boyfriend as you jut your bottom lip out, pouting at him, “trevor, it’s just for the night. you said you were sure and even said it yourself by the end of the night, i’m going home with you because i’m yours, remember?”.
his cerulean blue eyes softened at your pout, frowning to himself because not only did you use his words against him but because he knew you were right. “fine—but the only way cameron gets to fuck what’s mine is if we both do at the same time.”.
rafe chuckles at the idea, “shit, i don’t care as long as i get to feel her wrapped around me.”.
“w-what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, understanding exactly what he was indicating, “i don’t know if that's a good idea…i don’t think i could handle both of you.”
“c’mon, baby, you were just pouting f’me to let rafe fuck you, and you want both of us,” trevor pointed out, “just trying to give your greedy little cunt what it wants.”.
you were teetering on the edge of the idea, not thinking you could take both of them. still, it didn’t stop your arousal from growing and sticking to your inner thighs, eager to at least give it a try. “atta girl, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” rafe cooed, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.
the two swiftly discard the rest of their clothes before trevor lays flat on his back, your legs straddling either side of his hips as he pulls you on top of him. his hands rested on your hips, lifting you, and he gripped the base of his cock, lining himself with your sopping hole. you lower yourself onto him, your walls swallowing around him, sucking him in deeper as his cock splits you open.
trevor rolled his hips into yours when he felt your body tense at the feeling of the mattress dipping under rafe’s weight as he climbed behind you.“s’okay, just gonna stretch you out for both of us,” rafe murmured, his large palm traveling up your back, pushing at your spine until your tits were pressed against your boyfriend’s chest. you felt his fingers run along your inner thighs, gasping when he slowly slipped his finger into your already stuffed cunt.
rafe slowly moved his finger in and out of you; his gaze fixated on your facial expressions before adding another finger. your body wasn’t accustomed to the feeling, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt when he gently moved his middle and ring fingers, stretching you further. "you ready for more, princess?”.
“y-yes,” you breathed out, nodding and looking at rafe over your shoulder while trevor’s lips trailed wet kisses from your jaw to neck, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your hips as rafe removed his fingers and settled behind you. rafe spreads your ass cheeks to give him better access and lets a glob of his spit land where you and trevor are joined.
“shit, princess…pussy is already stuffed full, don’t think there’s any room for me. you sure this tight little hole can take both of us?” rafe teases, running the thick head of his cock up and down your folds. a sharp whimper slips past your lips, burying your face into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck when rafe slowly pushes his tip in.
your brain short-circuited as rafe slides himself in, pushing his hips forward till his pelvis is flush against your ass, his cock stretching you further than it already was before the two started to slowly thrust into you, allowing your body to grow accustomed to the feeling of both of their cocks inside you.
your whimpers bounce off the walls of rafe’s bedroom, the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched and filled past its limit subsiding as they go back and forth, their cocks steadily moving in and out of you simultaneously.
“such a greedy little slut, your boyfriend doesn’t leave you satisfied, or his dick isn’t enough for you?” rafe taunts, trying to piss your boyfriend off. you squeaked when trevor’s fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, his feet planted onto the firm mattress to harshly thrust up into you, “should be fuckin’ lucky i’m even letting you fuck her, cameron.”.
your pussy squelches around their cocks as rafe pounds into you mercilessly. his hips snapping against your ass, watching the fatty flesh jiggle, “goddamn, princess, you’re soakin’ my cock. you like this, don’t you? like having your pretty hole stretched and fucked by two cocks?”.
you tried to sit up, only for rafe’s hand to lay flat on your back, holding you on top of trevor. you could feel tears well in your eyes, your nails biting into the skin of trevor’s biceps, leaving crescent-shaped marks as they pushed in and out of your soaked cunt. trevor’s fingers run through your hair, gently tugging your head away from his neck to capture your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing each moan and whimper that slipped from your lips.
“look at you…takin’ both of us at once like the filthy little slut you are,” he groaned, sucking and biting your plump, swollen lips.
you yelp abruptly when rafe’s large palm slaps your ass, your skin stinging from his signet ring catching against your skin. he grabs your hair, twisting it around his wrist to pull your head back. his lips brush against your ear, biting at the lobe, “you just wanna be our little fucktoy for the night, yeah?”.
“yes!” you sob out, their hips smacking into yours, pounding into your cunt relentlessly. their cocks deliciously dragging against your walls with each harsh thrust they give. your eyes squeeze shut when trevor’s hand snakes up your waist to your neck, firmly gripping your throat, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “keep those pretty eyes open, baby.”.
“s’too much,” you whimpered, “shh, you can take it. you’re doing so fuckin’ good,” his thumb prodded your bottom lip, shoving it into your mouth, watching you suck. the persistent abuse on your cervix caused by their cocks had your head spinning, barely able to muster a single thought, let alone words. you couldn’t help but moan around his thumb when rafe slipped his hand around to reach between your thighs, the pads of his fingers deftly rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit.
the familiar tightening in your stomach had you clenching around them, “you wanna cum for us?” rafe grunted in your ear, his fingers never letting up. your vision blurs, tears streaming down your face, nodding frantically as it all becomes too overwhelming for your poor cunt to handle.
“we’ll fill you up so fuckin’ good. just be a good girl and cum for us,” trevor rasps, looking up at you, his nails almost breaking skin from his bruising grip on your hips. your walls convulse around them, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs shaking uncontrollably at the intense pressure between your thighs. cries of pleasure erupt from your throat, wetness pooling your inner thighs and soaking their cocks.
“oh, fuck—” both men groaned as you collapsed onto trevor’s chest, too fucked out to realize you squirted.
you could tell rafe was close, his thrusts growing sloppy, and his hips stuttered, giving you a few more thrusts. a strangled moan slips from his mouth, spilling himself inside you, and painting your walls white. you squirm, reaching out to hold onto rafe’s forearm as trevor holds you steady, snapping his hips up into you as he chases after his release, “gonna stuff this perfect cunt full with my cum.”.
“p-please—“ you mewl; your desperate whimpers and pleas to be stuffed full sent your boyfriend over the edge, pushing his cock deep into your abused cunt, moaning as he empties himself inside you, stuffing you full with his thick cum.
the room fell silent, only the sounds of the three of you panting filled the room. you stayed on top of trevor, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck in an attempt to catch your breath as he kissed your head, whispering praises into your ear.
you writhed as rafe pulled out and collapsed onto the bed before turning his head to look at the two of you, his chest heaving as he licked his lips, “you gonna let me have her to myself next time?”.
trevor grabs a pillow off the bed, chucking it at him, “next time? fat fuckin’ chance, cameron. you’re lucky you even got a chance.”.
tag list: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafecameroninterlude @starkeygirlposts @xxbimbobunnyxx @fae-of-prey @heartsforvin @sturnioloshacker @zyafics @sematarygirls @drewsarms @nemesyaaa @fallbhind @rafesthroatbaby @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @rafeyscurtainbangs @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @spid6y @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandabbbbb @kisses4angels @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @mackenzie-maybank @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @zayluvss @stoned-writer
#𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖’𝙨 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 ⟢#𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 ༉‧₊˚.#rafe cameron smut#trevor hellraiser smut#rafe x you x trevor#trevor hellraiser 2022#trevor hellraiser x reader#trevor hellraiser#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe smut#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe cameron x y/n#kinktober 2024
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╰➤Riding Them || One Piece
featuring: kid, killer, law, smoker and crocodile.
a/n: first time writing for smoker!! so I hope I do good! both smoker and crocodile was suggested by @walmartmihawk
summary: riding these beautiful one piece men because I’m whore when it comes to anime men. 😩😩 // part 2 ,, part 3
warnings: nsfw!! riding,, grinding,, teasing,, kid being kid.
✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦
Eustass Kid
This man loves to dominate you at any given moment so when you suggested you ride him he was like "HELL NO!! I'M NOT LETTING YOU TAKE CHARGE DURING SEX!" But after some whining and moaning he finally gave in, he didn't want to hear your bitching.
You weren't aware with this new position he would feel much bigger, So when Kid saw your face reaction he couldn't help but laugh at you. "Aw? What's wrong you little Brat? To much?" He would mock you, but Kid would give you time to adjust to this new position. And once time has time passed by you would move your hips slightly, making him groan softly.
You’ve just awakened something in Kid, for once he doesn’t mind being on his back. But he’ll still find a way to take charge of this new sex position. “That’s right babe. Keep riding my cock.” He would groan out, using his metal arm to wrap around your waist, matching his brutal pace.
This bastard loves to twist your nipples as your riding him, the way your chest bounces makes his dick twitch inside of you. And expect him to slap your ass. Making you cry out in pain. “KID!” You would moan out. To which he grip your waist and lean up. “It’s Captain.”
“That’s right you Brat, keep riding. You wanted to ride this dick! Now keep riding…” He loves to dirty talk you whenever you ride him. He still wants to be in charge despite him being on his back. “You dirty bitch, that’s right…right there. You make me feel so good.”
Killer
This man was eating spaghetti when you suddenly told him you wanted to ride him. “Hey Killer. Do you think tonight I could ride you?” And the poor man was coughing up spaghetti. “You wanna ride me?” And to which you would nod, giving him an innocent look and of course he could never say no to you.
So when it comes to the bedroom, Killer would be so gentle with you because this is a new position for you and he doesn’t want to hurt you. So this would involve a heated makeout session, him preparing you with his fingers.
Killer is so gentle, he can tell your nervous so he traces small circles along your hips. And help you aline yourself to his needy cock. He’ll give you time to adjust. “You’re doing a good job Princess…so good.” He would moan softly. Throwing his head back. Feeling your walls clench around him.
Loves watching the way your body moves against his, the way your hips snap back and fourth against his. God you’re perfect in his eyes. He loves to praise you whenever you’re riding him. So expect a lot of sweet comments coming form his mouth. “So good…good job princess. Keep going I got you.” “You’re doing a good job, you take me so well.” And he loves to lean in and share a deep kiss with you. Both tongues fighting for dominance. “You make me feel so good Princess, this pussy is so good.”
One time you told him to leave the mask on. “Leave the mask on.” And of course he would leave the mask on. But he’s a panting and moaning mess under that mask.
One time you guys were so loud to the point where Kid was banging on the door. “WILL YOU GUYS KEEP IT DOWN! NO NEED TO RUB IT THAT YOUR BOTH GETTING LAID!” To which you guys would laugh. “Someone is jealous.”
Law
This man loves it whenever you ride him, especially after a long day of work. Especially if he’s sitting on his chair. First it’ll start off with you walking into his office and locking the door and he’ll be too busy with work to notice you so you wiggle your way to his lap and stay there. And he’ll grumble under his breath. “Go away. I’m busy.”
But of course you catch his attention when he feels you grinding against his leg. “Need to ride your cock again…please.” Of course this would catch his attention. “Work for it then. I’m very busy.” And to which you would start dry humping his leg, moaning under your breath. “You’re mean…but I guess your leg will do. I don’t need your…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Law started attacking your lips against his. Already stripping you from your clothes and pulling down his pants, just enough for his dick to spring out.
The room was filled with muffed moans as he was exploring your mouth with his tongue. Mumbling against your lips. “You love riding me huh? Such a dirty little princess. You need to learn your lesson from interrupting me from my work.” He hissed against your lips. Biting on your lower lip.
Law gets needy and quite aggressive whenever you’re riding him. This either could include him holding your hips in place and he fucks you as he pleases or him encouraging you to move even more. “That’s right. Keep moving Princess. Finish what you started.” He would tease, his deadly fingers would find their way to your clit.
Once you guys are done, he’ll give you a moment so you can catch your breath before he pushes you against his desk, not caring about his books or paperwork. “We’re not done yet. I need to put you in your place.”
(inspired one shot)
Smoker
Please ride this man!! He goes crazy whenever you suggest to ride him!! After a long day of hunting pirates he needs to let out some steam and sometimes he’s too tried so yes pleased ride him! His favorite place is of course his office…besides the bedroom but office sex drives any man mad.
And he can be very demanding, so whenever he needs to let out some steam he’ll call for you in his office. “Make sure you lock the door.” He told you, as he watches you walk in. To which you quickly obeyed. “Long day?” You asked softly, and he nodded. “Need to let out some steam. So please be a dear and strip.” He demanded. To which you quickly listened to his orders.
He was already removing his bottoms before he suggested you to come closer. “Come, take a seat on your favorite chair.” He patted on his lap. You already felt the pool between your legs grow even more. Sitting down on his lap and slowly sliding down his cock. Making his groan. “I needed this…stupid pirates are giving me a headache.”
Even when you’re riding his doesn’t drop the cigar. So he could be sitting on his chair and while you’re riding away. He watch the beautiful sight. The way your chest moves, the way your mouth hangs open, soft moans escaping your lips while he’s blowing the smoke in the air. “Fuck..” He groans, grabbing a handful of your ass.
After a good riding, your legs would feel weak and of course this bastard is going to tease you. “What is my dick that good that your legs are feeling weak? Just wait until we get home.”
Sir Crocodile
This man appreciates a good riding, dealing with Mihawk and Buggy gets him so riled up. Especially Buggy….he can’t stand that stupid Clown. So he could be in his office working on some paper work and you would appear. Before you could lean in and kiss your lover he would grab you and force you down on his lap. Capturing your lips against his. And you would feel his cock pressed against your clothed bottoms. “Ride me..”
This would lead into him ripping your clothes off, and if you whine about it he’ll shush you. “Shh I’ll buy you more clothes, I just need to feel you.” He mumbled, guiding your pussy to his hard cock. Slowly he helped you down to his length. Moaning as he feels your walls around him. “So tight…feels so good dear.”
He loves tracing your skin with his hook, especially putting close to your neck as your. He loves watching your eyes widen as he brings the hook closer to you. But!! He’ll never ever hurt you with it! He wouldn’t even forgive himself if he were to hurt your precious skin with his hook.
You can tell when he’s so riled up with the way he moves his hips so desperately against yours. “The stupid clown has gotten you riled up again?” You moan softly, as you bury your face against his neck. Breathing in his scent. “Yes, stupid clown is at it again…”
One time Mihawk walked in on you guys, he didn’t even bother to knock but once he saw the slight he was instantly disgusted. “Save your gross activities for later on.” He mumbled and left. And this other time Buggy also walked in on you guys and he immediately yelled. “OMG! I’M SO SORRY! AHAAH OH GOD MY EYES.”
#x reader#one piece#op#headcanons#anime#smut#eustass kid smut#eustass kid x reader#eustass kid#killer#one piece x reader#one piece killer#killer x reader#trafalgar law x reader#Trafalgar law#law smut#law x reader#smoker#smoker x reader#sir crocodile#crocodile#sir crocodile x reader#crocodile smut
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VELVET ELVIS ❤︎
lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy
author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)
masterlist
divider credit: @/roseraris
within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.
during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.
on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.
"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.
"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.
"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"
both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.
"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.
"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.
"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."
"yes, ma'am."
reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.
"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.
"dippin' you in honey."
"dirty. i like it."
"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."
"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.
"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.
"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.
"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.
the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.
"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.
"oh my!" you gasp.
ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.
"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.
"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."
behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.
“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.
“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.
in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.
on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.
“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”
the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.
“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.
“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.
“really?”
“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."
"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.
"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.
"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.
you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."
"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.
logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett smut#wolverine#wolverine smut#hugh jackman wolverine#wolverine angst#logan howlett angst#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan wolverine#old man logan#old man logan x reader#old man!logan#wolverine fluff#wolverine one shot#wolverine x oc#logan howlett fluff#hugh jackman#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#x men#x men oc#x men comics
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BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE
what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???
THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT
And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like… what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Y’all make me smile so much I swear
Side note: I’m so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.
Side side note: if y’all saw me post this without the photo header…. No you didn’t
M.I.A
Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758
Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.
Jason’s pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.
It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.
He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.
All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.
Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.
He’s aware that there’s this… itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.
Jason Todd doesn’t count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.
He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesn’t have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.
His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.
You aren’t in bed.
He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.
The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.
Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.
Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.
He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldn’t otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.
You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriend’s large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.
“Want a glass, too?”
Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.
He just wants you back in bed with him.
He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.
You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"
He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.
Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.
Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.
You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.
He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.
Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you could’ve just asked, you know."
Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.
You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.
Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.
Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd fic#dc#jason todd x fem!reader#red hood#jason todd x you#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x reader#red hood x you#cw gun mention#dc x reader#dc fic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd imagine#jason todd x male!reader#jason todd x gn!reader#missy writes
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passenger princess / ln4
established relationship lando norris x fem!reader
no use of y/n, as always.
in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.
prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡
a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.
warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.
wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)
things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him.
but he knew. he knew exactly when.
you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.
that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend.
you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time.
“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms.
she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs.
p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.
“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”
a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous.
“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”
the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted.
what you wanted,
your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.
as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask.
you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.
“mate?”
lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy.
lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p.
your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable.
you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure.
he found himself smiling bright.
do you want kids?
he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?
“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.
when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?”
lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out.
the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to.
“when?”
lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.”
max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.”
max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?”
lando felt giddy.
you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you.
p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working.
but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in.
“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker.
you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?”
the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.”
you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”
“because he hasn’t asked me.”
“why don’t you ask him?”
“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”
p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.
she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”
now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”
she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled.
you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you.
with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p.
“are you going to have babies?”
“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.”
she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”
“of course i do, p.”
she gasped.
“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough.
you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.”
she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest.
“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand.
“nothing.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p.
“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?”
she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”
and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly.
too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.
the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be.
in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.
you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress.
relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs.
your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other.
“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on.
“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling.
and a good one at that.
qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.
flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.
lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car.
“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter.
you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit.
“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief.
he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized.
‘daddy’
you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p?
lando let out a short laugh. “like it?”
you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger.
“wore it for you.”
the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded.
and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.”
you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door.
the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.
as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks.
when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves.
“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.”
you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard.
lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge.
you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling.
“you’ll win this for me?”
he scoffed, “always.”
you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth.
you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.”
“don’t care.”
you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.”
he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away.
“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature.
“what?”
“nothing…” she looked away.
“lily.”
“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily.
“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’”
the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.
your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner.
god…
was there anything more prideful than that?
surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that.
the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag.
there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory.
a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier.
the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room.
“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future.
you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side.
he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando.
after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando.
you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day.
“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in.
“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle.
“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water.
“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.”
you gave her a heart-warming smile.
“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.
“are you sure…?”
marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick.
“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?”
is everyone asking that today?
you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.”
“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.
“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.
“someone has baby fever.” marta commented.
“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.”
“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble.
“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.”
you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife.
it did.
he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard.
your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested?
fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking.
you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.
he overheard the conversation, too.
“do you plan on having children? with lando?”
for sure. there’s no one else i’d want.
fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.
yeah, he’s fucked.
after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat.
you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him.
his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.
“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold.
“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.”
you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.
lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.”
he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.”
you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest.
“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.
“well, go on, then.”
“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.”
you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.”
“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.”
“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled.
“what was that, baby?”
“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent.
“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.”
you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above.
“you heard…all of it?”
“the gist.”
you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now.
“fuck. i didn’t mean to—”
“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down.
when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off.
“i want kids, too, you know. with you.”
“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?”
he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”
you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”
“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him.
though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.
you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again.
“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.
“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead.
the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls.
“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?”
you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.
“driving me fucking nuts, darling.”
you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.
it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.
“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.
with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder.
down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child.
“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!”
“thank you,” the woman said.
“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles.
the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?”
jackpot..!!
you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…”
the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,”
“you think so?”
she nodded her affirmation.
“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening.
“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door.
“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”
she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.”
you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”
“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.
you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’.
he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?”
he didn’t answer you.
you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going.
it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park.
“what are we—”
you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air.
“husband?”
oh
oh…!
well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms.
he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans.
“don’t know what you’re—”
he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”
your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit.
you mewled.
“what was that?”
your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words.
“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him.
“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied.
he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.
“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.
“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal.
“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.”
his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision.
he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing.
his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.
the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—
but it did.
he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy.
you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now.
with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes.
but this…this is not what you expected.
he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger.
it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off.
“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.”
you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger.
“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”
the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.”
“good, baby, you learn fast.”
you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it.
“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne.
his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level.
“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…”
you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time.
“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling.
“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.”
you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go.
“daddy.”
if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames.
you were his undoer,
the key to his shackled restraint,
the sun to his universe.
it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear.
lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you.
but seeking the future together?
heaven incarnate.
despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis.
“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace.
he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was.
lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person.
because he was yours.
then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat.
“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone.
“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another.
with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot.
you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you.
echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more.
“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin.
“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out.
his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy.
he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child.
“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?”
your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words.
“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else.
“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut.
“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?”
your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth.
“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen.
“lando…”
his head shot up from his daze.
“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate.
“what, pretty girl?”
your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair.
he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”
“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.”
it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.”
“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him.
“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light.
with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat.
out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you.
you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh.
“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls.
“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.”
he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”
you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.”
he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.”
you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.”
his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”
you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.”
it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty.
when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god.
you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear.
“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.
“they should auction it.”
you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.”
“need all that room for you.”
“cheesy.”
lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently.
he pulled out a bracelet.
a friendship bracelet.
“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:
“MOMMY”
“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed.
he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.”
you gasped. “lando!”
“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger.
“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?”
lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”
“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.”
“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room.
after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?”
he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile.
“what, lando?”
he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”
“what?”
“you’re dripping.”
you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t.
you really hoped it wasn’t.
tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch
#🐚*—my works#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando x y/n#lando x you#lando norris one shot#f1 fics#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#formula one#lando imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine
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sera's kinktober masterlist 2024
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 : 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝
how? send an ask, pairing a driver with the available day! ↳ example: "hi! can I request [driver] + [day #___]?"
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬
✮ the posting schedule will be from october to november. i was unable to write as much as i wanted to for this because of familial matters i can’t discuss, i hope you guys understand! 🥲
✮ AHHH!! my first kinktober ever, so please don't be too harsh :,) ✮ please note that some of these works/chapters contain content and kinks that might not be your cup of tea, please do not click on something that you're not comfortable with ✮ i will only write a maximum of 4 fics for each driver (so that there won't be too many of each driver) ✮ this list will be a mix of full fics and drabbles. ✮ some of the days here already have drivers assigned, but rest assured majority of these are up for grabs!
𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭!
what days are available? ↳ i will remove the days that have already been taken. ✮ day 3 - biting (requested by anon) ✮ day 9 - lap dance (requested by anon) ✮ day 11 - temperature play (requested by anon) ✮ day 12 - mutual masturbation (requested by anon) ✮ day 13 - deepthroating (requested by anon) ✮ day 15 - begging (requested by anon) ✮ day 17 - dacryphilia (requested by anon) ✮ day 19 - bondage (requested by anon) ✮ day 20 - ass worship (requested by @cleopatrick-123) ✮ day 21 - breeding (requested by anon) ✮ day 22 - orgasm denial (requested by anon) ✮ day 23 - overstimulation (requested by @nandolonso) ✮ day 24 - voyeurism (requested by anon) ✮ day 25 - nipple play (requested by @bad268) ✮ day 26 - wax play (requested by anon) ✮ day 28 - public sex (requested by @menagerofmischief) ✮ day 29 - hair pulling (requested by @nepobbylver)
day 1 (october 1st) - humiliation kink with sebastian vettel | "don't cover your mouth, let them hear it liebling."
synopsis - sebastian rewarding his ever so hard-working secretary
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 2 (october 3rd) - threesome with lando norris & oscar piastri | "look osc, she's taking it so well"
synopsis - what happens when lando catches y/n and oscar in a rather... compromising position?
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 3 (october 5th) - biting with oscar piastri | “jesus fuck, are you are a vampire or something?”
synopsis - biting has weirdly always been a part of y/n's love language, what happens when she bites oscar where he's a little bit more than just sensitive?
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 4 (october 7th) - overstimulation with lando norris | "be a good girl f'me, i know you can take another round"
synopsis - win celebrations look a little different for lando norris this time around
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 5 (october 9th) - jealous sex with oscar piastri | "i don't have to be inside you to make you feel good."
synopsis - oscar and his jealous tendencies can lead to some... eventful consequences
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 6 (october 11th) - daddy kink with jenson button | "spread your legs for daddy, i wanna see you"
synopsis - art and money have always been the two constants in y/n's life, what happens when those two constants result in a sugar daddy who happens to own an art gallery?
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 7 (october 13th) - hate fucking with lance stroll | "this is what you wanted, isn't it? to prove you're better than me?"
synopsis - the fashion industry has always been a dog-eat-dog world or a rival-fuck-rival world (for lance and y/n, at least)
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 8 (october 15th) - sensory deprivation with fernando alonso | "don’t argue mi princesa, just put the blindfold on.”
synopsis - fernando always loved the way silk looked on y/n he loved how it hugged her figure, he loved how it would make her look like a goddess, whether it was the dress he bought for her or her wearing nothing the silk blindfold
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 9 (october 17th) - lap dance with daniel ricciardo | “fuck, keep moving like that and i’ll bend you over the bar.”
synopsis - what happens when y/n does a simple dance routine that turns into something dirtier?
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 10 (october 19th) - mirror sex with george russell | "look at yourself, so gorgeous."
synopsis - ever since y/n and george started spending some weekends on the boat, she has always wondered why he needed to have a mirror on the wall and on the ceiling of the bedroom
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 11 (october 21st) - temperature play with kimi raikkonen | “didn’t i tell you to stay still?”
synopsis - y/n knew that marrying the so-called "iceman" of formula 1 certainly has its hot and cold times, especially when it's kimi using ice cubes in the bedroom
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 12 (october 23rd) - mutual masturbation with charles leclerc | "show me how you like it, i want to see you squirm."
synopsis - who knew that watching 50 shades of grey with your best friend could end so well?
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 13 (october 25th) - deepthroat with max verstappen | “you look so pathetic like this.”
synopsis - max can't seem to escape the norris' after that terrible race in Austria. The only difference? Y/n was actually worth Max's time (and stamina)
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 14 (october 27th) - tattoos with lewis hamilton | "i didn't know you got a spine tattoo."
synopsis - a little rain never hurt anyone... not until lewis almost breaks y/n's back (in a good way)
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 15 (october 29th) - begging with charles leclerc | "you look so adorable like this, begging for me."
synopsis - a bad day at work and a good fiance would and will always end well
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 16 (october 31st) - lingerie with carlos sainz | "turn around, for me hermosa? i want to see the back again."
synopsis - spending 23 grand on a shopping spree? that's something only y/n can do, but of course the money spent will always be worth it, especially when she gets something that can benefit her and carlos
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 17 (november 2nd) - dacryphilia with ollie bearman | “you’re so pretty with tears in your eyes.”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 18 (november 4th) - spanking with charles leclerc | "feel that? that's for flirting with fucking team mate."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 19 (november 6th) - bondage with lewis hamilton | "look at you, all helpless and desperate."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 20 (november 8th) - ass worship with logan sargeant | “babe, just sit on my face oh my god.”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 21 (november 10th) - breeding with logan sargeant | "i'm going to fill you up so well baby"
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 22 (november 12th) - orgasm denial with sebastian vettel | “you won’t be cumming, not unless i tell you to.”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 23 (november 14th) - edging with fernando alonso | "you can't handle this, can you?"
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 24 (november 16th) - voyeurism with oscar piastri | “don’t let my presence stop you, keep going.”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 25 (november 18th) - nipple play with ollie bearman | “what’s that poking through your shirt?”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 26 (november 20th) - wax play with charles leclerc | "close your eyes and let me take control, mon cheri. i'll decide where the wax goes."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 27 (november 22nd) - size difference with ollie bearman | "i want you to feel every vein and every inch of my cock."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 28 (november 24th) - public sex with oscar piastri | “are you crazy? what if we get caught?”
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 29 (november 26th) - hair pulling with carlos sainz | "you like that don't you?"
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 30 (november 28th) - food play with lewis hamilton | "you taste so fucking sweet baby."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
day 31 (november 30th) - oral fixation with daniel ricciardo | "suck on it, show me how much you want it."
synopsis
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
#sera write's#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 imagines#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1 imagine#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#max verstappen x reader#fernando alonso x reader#ollie bearman x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#george russell x reader#lance stroll x reader#logan sargent x reader#jenson button x reader
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could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?
“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep.
They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone.
“No.”
You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw.
“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.”
That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.”
“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.”
“Promise,” you say.
You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper.
“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.”
“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile.
“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.”
“Gotta get that time down,” you say.
“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute.
“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.”
“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room
When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.
When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets.
You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan.
“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch.
“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?”
Your lips pucker into a twist.
“What?” he asks.
Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried.
“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?”
Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?”
You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?”
It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but back then he’d been too shy.
I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking.
“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.
“It’s from that note you left me.”
“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”
“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”
“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.
“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”
He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones.
“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’
“So we aren’t equal?”
“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”
“Can’t believe you kept that note.”
“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”
He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)
by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.
DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.
idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.
It's survival.
At first.
A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.
Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.
Nothing else, except—
He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.
He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—
Mesmerising.
Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.
(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)
He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—
Ever.
And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.
Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.
Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.
(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”
and he—
he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—
he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?
slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.
in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.
you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”
and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.
“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”
his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)
And now—
Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.
Protection, he calls it.
("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")
You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is.
Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—
It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him.
Vile man. Awful.
(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)
This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.
(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)
Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—
Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.
Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.
(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)
Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.
It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.
You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.
You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.
“Need somethin', pet?”
Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”
“Yes, what?”
“Sir—”
Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.
You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.
“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”
Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.
It's gross. Disgusting.
It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—
He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—
(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)
You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.
Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.
“S–sir—?”
He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.
You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”
You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.
Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.
Uprooted, turned into something new—
His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.
(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)
“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”
You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.
“I need—I need you.”
Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”
He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”
Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.
Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.
Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—
He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—
just like he says.
As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.
Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.
His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.
And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.
You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.
Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.
There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—
Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.
He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.
“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.
There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.
He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.
Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—
“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”
It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—
He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.
you don't want him to stop.
His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.
He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more
The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.
It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.
He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—
But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.
“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.”
“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”
Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—
You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.
“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.”
You burn, blister. “Please—”
“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?”
Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.
“Simon—”
“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.”
“No, no, no—! I'm—”
“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.
“Please, sir—”
“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”
The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.
He knows you. Every part—
“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—”
It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.
He hides his need under a layer of derision.
“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?”
His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.
“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”
Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”
His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.
He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”
Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.
But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.
There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.
Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—
Full.
Mangled.
Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.
He's—
Pretty.
Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—
You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—
You kiss him.
Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—
Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally.
And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.
Because you need him, don't you?
Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—
(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)
—it’s all so divine.
His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—
And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.
Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.
It coils around you. Thick, smothering.
He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—
He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.
But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—
“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”
“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”
The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.
“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.
Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.
His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.
You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.
After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.
His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.
He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.
“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”
You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.
Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.
“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”
Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.”
You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.
His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”
“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”
“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”
There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—
Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.
Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.
This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—
“Gonna be my good little wife?”
Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—
His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—
“Not gonna run?”
Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.
How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.
Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”
And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.
His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.
It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.
It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.
Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.
It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—
Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.
When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—
Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”
—and you swallow it down with a moan.
(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)
#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao#hope you enjoyedddddddddddd#i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost x you
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Knock, Knock
Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader x Stu Macher
(NSFW)
This is my first time writing oneshot, let alone smut. English is not my first language so bear with me.
Warning: Reader is a Virgin, Cussing, alot of cursing, knife play, mask kink, bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, deep throat, anal, threesome, and double penetration.
*Bold - Voice modulator, Italic - inner voice
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't recognize this deep voice talking to you.
“Who’s this?” Instead of hanging up, your gut feeling tells you to continue the conversation with this stranger. Maybe you’ll get something out of it.
“You don’t need to know about me. I just want to talk to you.”
“Now why should I do that? Stranger danger. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” You saunter around the kitchen counter and stare at the sets of kitchen knives. You pull out a cleaver and wait for them to reply.
The stranger chuckled, amused with your response.
“Just want to call you so I get to know you better.”
You poked your tongue inside your cheek. You put the knife back in its place, humming to yourself.
“Alright, Mr Stranger. You got my attention and I'm bored as hell. Shoot your million dollar question.” You leaned your back on the counter, hand in pocket while another's still holding the phone.
“Tell me, do you like scary movies?”
“Uhh, yeah.”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“Does The Addams Family count? 1991 is the best.” You shrugged, checking your nails. The voice grumbled, annoyed with your movie choice.
“That’s not even a scary movie. And it’s a kid show.”
“Excuse me, that movie is my fave and you don’t get to judge my beloved Morticia Addams just because I watch a ‘kid show’. Besides, that movie is still considered horror okay. Take examples like Tim Burton’s production. Even though most of his movies are suitable for children, he still wants to insert horror elements so they could find comfort and won’t make them feel scared anymore. You should try Nightmare before Christmas or maybe Edward Scissorhand for starters.” you jested.
“Not my kind of style. Edward is weird as fuck.”
“Oh now you’re crossing the line Mr. Nobody. Fun fact for you, Johnny Deep with or without heavy makeup is hot as fuck. Hell, if there’s any Johnny copycat out there, I’ll ride his dick straight away.” you mused. The audacity of this guy.
The stranger hummed.
Is it creepy that I can see him smiling through the phone?
“You should be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”
“Then, Amen for that. I ain’t regret what I said so if you have a problem with it, you jerked your tiny dick somewhere else.”
He chuckled darkly.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?”
"What if I have one? Or maybe a girlfriend? What ya gonna do about it?” You rolled your eyes.
The phone went dead silent until a deep growl came out on the line. His voice changed to menacing.
“You don’t have a boyfriend. You’re not even lesbian.”
“Slow down tiger. I can change my preference wherever I want. Anyway, congratulations! You’re successful become from a total stranger to a fucking creep. Now no more games with me. What do you want?” You huffed, getting annoyed and a little creep out with his manic voice.
“Oh baby, you think this is a game? I’ll play a real game for ya. Knock, Knock.”
You yelped when you heard someone banging on your front door.
Shit. Wrong move.
You pull out a metal bat under the counter like you knew this would gonna happen and check around, especially every closed door inside the house. You already watched too many horror movies with Randy that you even know where the killer always comes out from.
“I ask you want more time. What the hell do you want from me?”
“You wanna know, you have to play the game with me.”
You jumped when you heard another banging. And this time, at your backyard.
“Knock. Knock.”
You gulped and took a glimpse at your back. As you saw nobody's there, you pressed your back on the wall and focused on the front door.
“Who’s there?”
You make sure all the doors and windows are already locked as your father went out training with his buddies. He says he will be coming home late.
Double. Shit.
“Johnny.”
You innerly scoffed. Oh he likes this game too much.
“Johnny where?”
“Clever girl. Guess.”
You rushed to the front door and took a look outside from the window. No one was there. You blurted out the answer.
“The backyard.”
“Wrong.”
You shrieked as the sound of a crash came out from the living room. You ran there to see a big gape hole at your now shattered window. You scanned the whole room. Only one wooden chair and shattered glass all over the floor.
He couldn’t make it inside that fast. You raised the phone as you heard his voice.
“I give you a second chance. Knock, knock.”
“Oh fuck you with your knock knock shit game! What do you want from me?!”
“I want you…to ride me.”
You inhaled sharply at his answer as you turned around with a bat raised in front of you.
“You’re messing with the wrong person here.” You spitted. He chuckled mockingly, amazed that you still have a bit of spite even though you know you're about to lose the game.
“You should be asking where I am, (Y/N).” He enunciated your name deeply.
Sweat trickle down your temple as you took a step back one at the time. This stranger knowing your name just shot up your nerve haywire.
“Where the fuck are you shithead.”
“Behind you.”
You turned around and hit the phone right to the side of his face.
His Ghostface leather mask to be exact.
He covered his head from the hit with his gloved hand and you took that opportunity to bash his head with your metal bat. He doubles in pain as you hit his back with more force and knocks his feet to the floor. He lay on his back, gripping his back painfully as you stepped on his body.
“Now let’s see who's behind the mask.”
Before you could bend down to grab his mask, the air got knocked out from you as someone rammed from your side. Your head got slam on the floor hard followed by a body that stumbled right above you.
There’s two of them?!
You tried to pry him off from you but it was no use. You could see from your blurred vision that two masked men were now crowded right in front of you.
The first guy above your head took both of your hands and held them tight, giving out a painful moan from you, while the other one sat on top of your low waist between his thighs, securing your legs from moving.
You tried to trash your body only to feel a sharp knife under your throat. You looked up to see the second guy shaking his head.
A warning.
“Looks like you lost the game.” Second ghostface seems satisfied seeing you beneath him. The knife in his hand trailed lower and lower to your neck. You could feel a prick of pain as the knife cut deep at your collarbone.
“Losers need to pay the price.” The first ghostface giggled, bringing out a rope from his black robe and tied your hand above your head.
“Two against one? Really fair, does it?” You gritted your teeth. Even though you’re already at their mercy, your mouth still runs like a goddamn sailor.
“Didn’t know this should be a fair game.” Second ghostface shrugged, still lingering his knife around your neck area.
“So what? You gonna kill me?”
“Careful, you shouldn’t challenge a killer with a knife. Now you said it, that does sound tempting.” The killer dragged down his knife to your waist. The cold of his blade sent chills down your spine as it put pressure on your stomach, emphasizing his words.
You gulped as you eyed the two ghostface. The one that sat on top of you seems like a person you don’t want to mess with. The way his voice held authority, meaning if he wants to kill you, he’ll make sure you’re good as dead. Even though he’s wearing a mask, you could feel his hot gaze on your throat to your collarbone that already bleed out from the small cut. His gloved hand reached out, smearing your oozing blood with his thumb. He loves it, you can tell.
Another one above your head, however he's a different kind of persona. He seems to like goofing around and having fun stabbing his victim. More sadistic, more of an unhinged bastard. If he takes his mask off, you bet he'll be that funny, easy going guy. His head tilted to the side, staring at your body in awe. Like you'll become his biggest meal tonight.
"But since you beat my friend here, I'll give you a chance. If you want to live, you need to do something for me." He hinted at the end of his sentence. The first Ghostface started to laugh hysterically.
Somehow you know what he meant, knowing what they're gonna do to you.
"What do you mean?" You shuddered.
In a split second, he pulled your body and switched position, making you on top of him. You could feel the bulge between your legs as his hands gripped your waist.
"You know what I meant."
Your whole body shivered in fear and excitement. You don’t know why your body react that way. Fear, yes but also excites you?
You already soaked in your panties, though it was the adrenaline of the chase.
You subtly rubbed yourself on his groin. He sighed in content as you kept rubbing his hard on.
“That’s it, babe.” His breath ragged as both his hands moved your hips and pressed deeper to his crotch. His hips thrust to your core, making you let out a soft moan.
You feel someone's hand held the back of your head, turning you to meet the first Ghostface. His gloves were already gone from both hands, as he’s working on to half-done his zipper jeans.
“Open your mouth, kitten." He slipped his thumb, pressing your lips to open. He inserted two fingers in and out as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. They were so long that you gagged as it reached at the back of your throat. When he pulled out his fingers, a string of saliva coated them.
“I’ve never done this before.” Your face was red, embarrassing to admit that you never had sex before.
“We know you’re a virgin.” He whispered. His thumb stroking your lower lip, his mask titled to the side.
“Don't worry about that. We promise to make you feel good, m'okay?" The Ghostface under you sat up, his hand tugged teasingly at your waistband while the other one caressed your cheek. His deep voice is surprisingly tender, luring you in like a moth to his flame.
Without thinking, you nodded at his words.
Beneath those masks, their smirk grew wider, finally getting you hooked with them.
"Lift your hips for me, baby."
He tore his gloves from his hands and guided your hips upward. As you stand on your knees, he tugged down your shorts and panties in one go. You gasped at how rough, desperate he wanted to strip you naked.
He took out his knife and started to rip them in half. You shiver from the cold as your clothes discard aside.
A pair of hands from behind reach out to your breast and fondle them. You whimpered as he pulled and squeezed your nipples. Another hand slipped to your wet cunt, thumb circling your clit.
"Gosh, your pussy is so wet for us. We're just getting started." He mused. Slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, thumb still rubbing your clit. You shuddered, your back laid on someone's chest, who still continued grasping your breast.
"Look at you, seeking pleasure from two psychotic serial killers. Ain't ya a dirty little slut." The one from behind cackled in manic, enjoying seeing you completely vulnerable for him.
You subconsciously ride your hips with his fingers inside you, reaching your high. Your tied arms pressed in front of his chest as his friend from behind starts to dry hump your ass. You could imagine how big their dicks are, one pressing from the back while the other one underneath your pussy, still finger fuck you.
As if they knew you're about to come, he pulled out his fingers. You let out a small whine, feeling the loss of your pussy to be filled. He dip his finger beneath his mask, groaning in pleasure as he tasted your juices with a mix of blood.
Your hair got clutched from behind and dived you to his tent. When he pulled down his boxer, you were awestruck at how thick and veiny his hard rod is. He tapped his dick on your mouth, precum smeared at your lower lips.
"Like what you see?" He chuckled, seeing you looking at his cock like that got him more turned on.
You flustered, eyeing the two black holes resemble eyes staring at you, silently to gain his permission. He nodded, pushing his tip further into your lips.
You subtly open your mouth, licking his precum and heard his deep groan in return. This made you sucked and licked his tip and moved your hand up and down his length.
He tilted his head back. Though you couldn't see with his mask on, a sense of pride grew in you, pleased to see him feel that way.
"You're sure this is your first time? Fuck, this feels amazing." He bucked his hips in your mouth.
"Open your mouth wide open, tongue down. I'm a deep throat till you swallow all of my cum." You do as he said. He thrust his dick deep in your throat, making you gagged but you held it in.
He fucked your mouth relentless, both his hands keeping you in place. Tears pooling down your face as saliva spilling from your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You tapped his thigh, coughing up when he pulled out his dick from your swollen lips.
You're too focused on the man in front of you, that your ass was raised in the air and gasped as you felt a tongue licking at your entrance.
"Damn I can eat this pussy all day." He growled from behind, licking and biting your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tongue does wonders to you.
You gagged as he pounds in and out of your mouth, while from behind a tongue lick deep in your entrance. His nose teasing your clit, earning you a moan vibrating through the dick in your mouth. Both of them release low moans, reaching their high.
You tap his thigh, pull you away from his dick as you feel a knot in your stomach.
"I-I some-something d-down there." You cried out, feel his friend's wet tongue thrust in and out of your cunt. You gasped from sensation, as he's licked your rim hole.
"Then cum all over his mouth, princess. Let him taste every drop." He strokes his dick as you stick your tongue out to his tip. You feel your release as the man behind lapping your juices clean.
"God, she tastes so good. I wanna fuck her wet cunt till she's scream."
The killer in front of you didn't say a word, staring at his friend
"You can't have her. She beat you up, remember?"
"The fuck that's supposed to mean? We won, she lost."
"Correction, you get beat to a pulp and I'm the one stopping it. So, I get the prize and you just, I don't know. Enjoy the show?"
"I'm already hard and you’re telling me just to watch you all over her? Hell no man!"
They way they're talking about you like you aren't there bothers you, but at the same time kind of hot.
You could tell his friend was frustrated, agitated while him with you on his lap stroking his tip to your folds. You whimpered as he nudged his face mask closer to your neck. You could feel his wet tongue licking and sucking at the cut he gave you.
Deep down you know your choice terrifies you but you don't want his friend left behind.
"There's two holes for a reason, ya know." You mumbled low, but somehow both killers caught on to what you said. They both were stunned. Not long after, the one you sit on his lap snickered darkly.
"You're one dirty little virgin. Didn't know you're into that." He gripped your hips closer to his already hard crotch. You blushed at his indication.
Truth is, you stumbled upon a porn magazine from Stu's wardrobe, asking you for his sweatpants as he was in the bathroom. Curiosity kills you when you open the magazine, the page showed a blond woman penetrated by two men, dick in her cunt while another in her ass.
The image haunted you yet deep down you want to know how it feels like, to get banged by two. As you stare at her lustful face, you jump when you hear Billy's voice from outside Stu's room. So, you threw away the magazine and hastily grabbed his shorts. When Billy enters the room, he stares at you intensely. He always does every time you're in his sight. He raised an eyebrow as you gave the shorts, muttered, "Give it to Stu, he wants it." and you made a mad dash out of his room.
You know for the fact that the chances you're getting DP is slim to none. But seeing as of now, your fuzzy brain was like why not.
"You're an angel, you know that? That's why you're perfect for us." The frustrated Ghostface was now like he's in cloud nine when you told him that, hugging you from behind.
"You're meant for us, (Y/N). Remember that." The one with you on his lap was now laying down on the floor, bringing you with him so that your pussy was placed right on his outstretched cock. As his tip penetrated your entrance, you whimpered as the slight discomfort got you. As your tied arms gripped the black cloth of his front, his hand teasing your clit, trying to distract you from the pain.
As he is completely inside you, the discomfort was replaced slowly with pleasure, fullness from his thick length. His sighed in relief, loving his dick snug deep in your pussy like a vice.
"Fuck you're so tight, baby." He rasped as he helped adjust his length inside you. When he felt you ready, he slowly thrust in and out of you, making you moan.
"You like that? You like riding this cock?" His slow thrust became erratic as he rammed your throbbing cunt. Your mouth gaped open, couldn't reform words when he hit you at the right spot.
"Y-yes, right there. Shit! You're so big." You uttered breathlessly, bouncing his dick as he thrust deeper in you.
As you ride him, you feel another one trying to penetrate your asshole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, stopping you as he continued to push in, hissing at your shoulder.
"S-shit! My cock gonna cut in half if you keep squeezing me like that." He buried his face on your neck as he roughly thrust you in one go, making you scream.
"M'sorry babe. Can't help it."
You try to glare at his face, or more precisely his mask. You could imagine his stupid grin, staring at you adoringly.
This is too much. For you, a virgin and never been fuck let alone anal, this is a lot to take in. You could feel their dicks stretched inside every hole of you down there. You try adjusting to this new stimulation. They’re both moving in sync, in and out of you, feeling both of their dicks rubbing your wall one at the time. It makes you see stars as they fasten their phase.
Skin slapping filled the room, with your moan and their groan in a mix.
“Fuck fuck fuck I’mma cum!” You feel his hand gripping your hips as his thrust turns sloppy. Your body started to shake as the one beneath encircled his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest as he slammed you hard on your g-spot.
You nearly scream from pleasure as orgasm washed over you, followed by the one behind, pumping his seed into your throbbing asshole. Your pussy tightens is all it needs from the one beneath you to paint his cum on your walls.
He gave his one hard, second thrust at your asshole then pulled out his softened cock. The way he stared at his cum spilling from your ass stirred something inside him.
His fingers subconsciously slipped his overflow cum inside your hole. For some reason, he doesn’t want a single drop of his seed leaking out of you.
You take a deep inhale as your eyes flutter close, trying to calm from your euphoric state. You could hear his heartbeat thumping as your head laid on his chest, with him too catching his breath.
The only thing you remember is feeling a peck on your forehead and a kiss from your nape, with a deep raspy voice you manage to hear before exhaustion overtook your body.
“That’s my good girl.”
After you pass out…
“Man, that’s the best thing happen in my life!” Stu sighed, satisfied as he pulled off his Ghostface mask and slipped in his now soft dick in his pants. He looked over at his friend who was still lying on the ground with their favorite girl on top of him.
“You're lucky I came up with this plan. Knew it our girl had same fantasies like us.” He grinned, smiling like an idiot, while Billy too slowly took off the mask.
“If you didn’t pull out that porn magazine, she wouldn’t even think about it, genius.” He murmured as he stroked your arm. He sighed in relief with his eyes closed, hearing your soft snores calmed him.
Maybe they could pay you another visit, and it will be on nice bed this time.
And sure as hell he'll make sure of that.
#billy loomis#stu macher#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#poly ghostface x reader#billy loomis x reader x stu macher#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#scream 1996#scream fanfic
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New Camera 🔥
Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)
warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)
authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!
summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…
word count: 2,270 w
~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~
—————————————————————————
your phone buzzed on your desk.
“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.
“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.
“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.
“you look hot” he smirked
“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.
“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.
“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly
“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.
“whatcha got there?”
“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly
“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.
“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.
“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.
“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.
“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.
“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.
“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.
“take your top off” he stated, flatly.
“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out
“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.
“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.
“now your shorts”
“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.
“and?”
“well you’re filming i mean i—“
“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.
“good girl” matt praised, dryly.
“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.
“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.
“so sexy” he growled.
“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.
“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”
you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.
“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.
“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.
“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.
“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.
“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.
“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.
“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.
“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.
“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony
“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”
“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.
“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.
“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.
“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.
“understand?”
“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.
“yes, who?”
“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out
“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.
“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”
“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight
“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.
“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.
“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.
“need daddy to take over again?”
“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again
“turn over” he growled
“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.
“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts
“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.
“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.
“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.
“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.
“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.
“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.
“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.
“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.
“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”
your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.
“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed
“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.
“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.
“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.
“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.
“no way. i loved that”
“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously
“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.
“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.
“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.
“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.
“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.
“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased
“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.
“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock
“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.
“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”
“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically
“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.
“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.
“i love you more, baby”
—————————————————————————
ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶
also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA
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