#im sorry to be the one to tell you this but you used an assignment operator instead of a comparison operator- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

propertyofwicked · 7 months ago

Text

FIRST - LN

lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink

✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧

masterlist the playlist

“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.

being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.

“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.

“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.

“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.

“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.

“i ju-”

“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.

in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.

she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.

this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.

“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.

“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.

“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”

“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.

“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.

oh he knew her a little too well.

“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.

“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.

“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.

lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.

“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.

“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”

“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.

“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”

“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.

“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.

“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”

“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.

“huh?” max replied, confused.

“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.

the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.

“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”

“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”

lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.

y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.

there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.

max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.

max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?

the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.

“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.

“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.

“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.

“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.

“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.

“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.

“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.

“tell that to the scar on my back.”

“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.

“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.

“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.

“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”

“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.

“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”

“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.

he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.

“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.

“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”

his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.

the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.

“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.

“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.

“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”

his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.

“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.

“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.

“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.

“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”

“kiss me.”

“wha-”

“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”

lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.

“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.

“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.

“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.

“there’s no one i trust more.”

with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.

“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.

“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.

“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”

“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.

“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.

“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.

“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.

“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.

“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.

“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”

“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.

“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.

“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.

“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.

“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.

“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”

she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.

“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.

“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”

“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.

“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”

lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.

“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.

“yes, fuck lan. only you.”

he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.

“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.

lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.

“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.

“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.

“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.

“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.

“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.

“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.

“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.

“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.

minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.

“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.

“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.

“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.

“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”

“preach.”

✧ inbox/requests are open ✧

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

5K notes · View notes

luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

Text

little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are.

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him.

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him.

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you.

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work.

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies.

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?”

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly?

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on.

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself.

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face.

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing.

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you.

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears.

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through.

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working.

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets.

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop.

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips.

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside.

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you.

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.”

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry.

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him.

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

4K notes · View notes

always-just-red · 3 months ago

Note

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

1K notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 1 year ago

Text

shit happens

spider squad x platonic!reader

request?: yes

request: “Okokok, first of all CLASH WAS SOOOO GOOD OMGGI come bearing a request only if u want to. Teen!spider!reader who is Miguel’s favorite because they don’t cause him trouble. But it’s only because they get severely anxious when they break rules (I’m not projecting, you are). So he assigns them to go on a mission with the problem children hoping they’ll rub off on them, but the problem children just corrupt them. I just need more spider children being chaotic together and tired spiderdad MiguelMwah mwah love ur writing )pls only write this if u feel like it)”

requested by: anon

word count: 2k

genre: platonic

Warnings: language, anxiety, Miguel being unrealistic with his expectations, electrocution, spider squad gettin thrown around

A/N: omg wait no bc same HAHA as someone with diagnosed severe generalized anxiety i get so anxious to break the rules even though my spirit always tells me to lol, i hope you enjoyed this anon! thank you for the request :)

───────────────────────────────────

You were the golden child. There were quite a few teens in Spider Society, but you were by far Miguel’s favorite. And that’s all because you did what he said. Now did that mean you never questioned his authority? Of course not, you questioned him all the time. But you were too nervous to go against him. You were too nervous to go against anyone. It’s proven a problem in your job since the police are not your biggest fans, but luckily you befriended a nice police captain who eases your fears every now and again. Your weekly visits with Spider-Therapist have been helping with the problem, too. Which is great for you. But you still did what Miguel said. Mans could be scary.

And that’s how you ended up here. With Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales, and Pavitr Prabhakar. There was an anomaly that needed taken down in Hobie’s world, and Miguel stuck you with the four of them. To say you were nervous was an understatement. “Right, so anyone got a plan?” Hobie asks, in his thick accent. “What? What do you mean, dude, we’re in your world,” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “So? Not my villain, dunno ‘ow to stop ‘im.”

“Okay, well we know that he’s an electro variant, so… what can we do with that?” Gwen asks, and Pav sighs. “Be electrocuted,” he says sadly. “Miles can handle that,” Gwen says, and Miles snaps his head toward her. “Miles cannot handle that! Why are we saying Miles can be electrocuted?!” Miles yells, and the other three shush him. “’ow ‘bout you, mate, any ideas?” Hobie asks you, and you shrug. You look around before pointing up to the water towers on the roofs of the multiple buildings in New London. “Water,” you suggest, and they all look where you’re pointing. “Smart,” Gwen says with a nod. “How do we get the water to him, though?” Pav asks, looking at you again. You frown. “I… actually didn’t think that far.”

“Well, ‘at’s, easy. We just bust ‘em. Get ‘im to fly near one and,” Hobie makes an explosion noise and uses his hands to imitate an explosion. “What? But what about all the people who will lose water?” you ask, and Miles cocks his head to the side. “It’ll get fixed fast, probably. It’s our job to fuck shit up and then have other people fix it cause if we don’t fuck shit up, shit gets fucked anyways,” he says, and you sigh. “But Miguel said to try and not cause too much of an issue—”

“Oi. Who gives a flyin’ fuck what ‘e said. Not me. And this is my bloody world, I’ll cause as much damage as I want to,” Hobie says, and you look down. “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, mate,” Hobie says, and you mumble another ‘sorry.’ “You know what? I think Electro can wait a minute,” Hobie says, turning towards you, “More important matters to figure out ‘ere.”

“Like what?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Why are you so nervous?” he asks, and you gulp. “I-I’m not, I just—”

“You definitely are,” Gwen says, and Miles throws in a ‘yup!’ with a nod. “Is it us?” Pav asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. “W-What? No, that’s not it,” you say, waving your hands in a frantic way to say no. “I just am nervous in general. It really isn’t that big of a deal, guys, we should be focusing on—”

“Nope. You’re not gettin’ outta this, you been in ya ‘ead this ‘ole time.”

“I’m always in my head, it really isn’t that big of a deal—”

“Is ‘at why you try to avoid everyone? Don’t talk to no one?” Hobie asks, and you gulp. “I-I talk to some people…” you mumble, and a small frown forms on Gwen’s face. “The therapist in Spider Society doesn’t count,” she says, and you look down. “Well, why not…? He’s a person...”

“Because he’s like 40, and you’re our age,” Pav says, “you’d get along better with us, bro.”

“Miguel said that if anyone could make us not as ‘moronic’ it would be you, but I feel like he just kinda takes advantage of you instead of recognizing the pressure he puts on you. I have some experience with that,,” Miles says, and you sigh. “He scares me, okay? If I break the rules then I might simply pass away from him yelling at me,” you say, and Hobie shakes his head. “Love, the rules are all bollocks. Made by people who just wanna control your life.” Gwen nods. “Miguel is cool, sure, but if anyone can get away with anything… it’s you,” she says, and Miles chimes in. “And if you’re really that scared, remember he literally chased me around his world and destroyed a train because of me. You’ll never piss him off to that point.” You stay silent, playing with your fingers. Pav reaches out and grabs your hands. “Rules are meant to be broken, (Y/n), I learned that from Hobie. And besides, the villains we face are the biggest rule-breakers imaginable,” Pav assures, and you nod slightly. “And rules are such rubbish. ‘ey’re always different anywhere ya go. Try not to put so much weight on your mind ‘bout it, breakin’ ‘em ain’t a big deal,” Hobie says. You do actually kinda feel better. Hobie brings up a good point. Rules are different everywhere you go, so breaking one every now and again isn’t that big of an issue. In fact, it can be kind of encouraged. “Besides, breaking rules is almost like challenging ideologies, you know? Like, in breaking a rule, you challenge a system in place that is telling you not to break them. No one likes that. Where would we be if people didn’t break rules?” Gwen says. “That was deep,” Miles says, and Pav nods. “'at was a wicked way a’ puttin’ it, Gwendy.”

That’s a good point, actually. You think for a bit. If you look at it as challenging a system, or even doing what’s right, who’s to say it’s a rule that shouldn’t be broken? Hobie smiles underneath his mask because he knows they’ve gotten through to you. “So, whaddya say we go blow up some water tanks, eh?” Hobie stands, rubbing his hands together. “Okay,” you say. Gwen and Miles fist bump, and Pav does a little clap. The five of you jump into action, immediately starting to taunt and lure Electro to get him close to the towers so you can douse him and put him out.

The plan was going pretty well for the first two attempts, but he eventually catches on to what the five of you are doing. Which makes it harder. Miles does, in fact, get electrocuted. As does Gwen and Hobie, and coming in as no shock to anyone, Miles is definitely the least affected. You were able to dodge all of the attacks. “You’re doing great, (Y/n)! Mind telling me how the fuck your spidey sense is so strong?!” you hear Miles yell. “MILES LOOK OUT!” Gwen screams, but it’s too late. He gets electrocuted again. “Ouch, bro! That one looked like it hurt!” Pav yells, and Miles, who is now lying face down on a roof, raises his hand up in the air, flipping him off. You snort, and then see Hobie fly past you, landing on another water tower. “Hey! Dumbass! Over here!”

“Oh, please. You expect me to fall for that? I know what your little plan is, and I’m not about to be put out,” Electro says, firing some electricity out at Hobie. Unluckily for Hobie, it breaks the water tower and electrocutes him and the water that pours out of it.

You land next to Hobie, who is now just laying on the rooftop, but he grunts and mutters some British slang that you wouldn’t understand even if he explained it to you. So, you know he’s fine. “I have an idea,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we need to make sure no one is on the street.”

“What’s the goody-goody plannin’ on doin’, huh?” he says, standing. “You’ll see, just make sure there are no civilians or anyone who will get hurt. And keep him distracted.” With that, you leap and go to another one of the water towers. You take a deep breath, thinking back to what Miguel said before the five of you left.

“Try not to destroy the city while you’re at it. (Y/n), I trust you’ll keep them all in line,” Miguel said, and you timidly nod. You’d love to not destroy the city, but it’s so hard doing that as a Spider-Person. But you also don’t want him to yell at you for going against his orders. Now you’re conflicted. “No promises, Miguel. We’re gonna do what we gotta do,” Miles says and Miguel sighs. “If anyone can reign the four of you in, it’s this one. Don’t let them pressure you into acting up, okay?”

You frown. Fuck that. Miguel is pressuring you into not doing your job right. You can’t always be perfect and careful. And lucky for you, the four of them were really good at distracting villains. You web two of the support legs, yanking them and breaking them off the water tower. It starts collapsing, but you catch it. “Shit, you’re heavy,” you grunt, but regain your balance, holding it on your shoulders. You twist your body, ripping the other supports off and making the water tower completely free. You get Electro in your sight and take a deep breath. You lift the water tower, tossing it up in the air before leaping out of the way and towards Electro. You shoot webs from both hands, connecting them to the water tower and yanking it towards you. You swing it around, connecting it with Electro’s body. Sure enough, it knocks him down and explodes on impact, drenching him. And you. And Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pav; but hey, you did it.

You land on a roof and look down. Sure enough, Electro is knocked out cold and completely out of electricity. You swing down, placing him in one of the technological cells that Miguel developed specifically for Electros, and nod. “That… probably could have gone better,” you mutter to yourself. Your self-deprecating thoughts were cut off immediately. “That was AWESOME, (Y/n),” Gwen says, giving you a thumbs up and hug. “Yeah, little Spider, that was bitchin’,” Hobie says, giving you a fist bump. “You made it look so easy! How did you do that, you have to teach me!” Pav says, clearly excited and impressed. “You were out here talking about how you didn’t wanna break rules so instead you broke an entire water tower? That’s cool, why don’t you try being less cool next time for the sake of us,” Miles says giving you a pat on the shoulder. You smile. “Thanks, guys.” Their praise was enough to make you feel better for completely and totally wreaking havoc.

But when the five of you return, soaking wet, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said… to not destroy the city…” he mutters, looking at you with disappointment. You look down. “City’s still standin’, mate. (Y/n) kicked ass,” Hobie says, and the other three make sounds of agreement. “Y-Yeah, Miguel. All I did was break one water tower, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say, and he sighs. “One? You all broke four water towers on four different buildings! And you flooded an entire street! You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Dude. I’m a teenager. Shit happens,” you say, a sudden burst of confidence from being around the group of four allowing you to speak out. Miguel puts his hand on his jaw, sliding his hand down. “Remind me to never team the five of you up again,” he mumbles, and Hobie elbows you. “Nah, we’re a band now. Sorry ‘bout it,” Hobie says, motioning everyone to leave Miguel’s sight. You all follow. When you’re out of Miguel’s office, Hobie bumps your shoulder. “See, that wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

He was right, it wasn’t that bad.

───────────────────────────────────

#spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderpunk #spidergwen #hobie brown #gwen stacy #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar

3K notes · View notes

naomi-nana · 6 months ago

Text

first kiss?! . wind breaker

kissing ur man for the first time..

featuring : sakura haruka, hayato suou, umemiya hajime

cw : kiss kiss, fluff, gn!reader, bad grammar sorry, reader talks abt lip gloss(suou) but doesnt mean theyre fem i guess???

a/n : wow i procrastinate alot im so sorry anon ily thx for this request:3

SAKURA HARUKA

you sit besides a sick sakura, with food and medicines in your hand. you look down at him with a concerned face. from what suou told you, sakura had gotten sick after the fight with keel though, the fight isn't what made him sick. "you shouldn't push yourself too much, you know?" you pout at him while helping him to sit up to eat the food you brought.

"i know. but, i'm the grade captain so.." you punch him in the head(lovingly). "what do you-!" he looks at you with a glare but then widened his eyes after he realized that you were on the verge of tears. "i'm worried sick waiting for you, you know?" you clenched your fist really hard and you look at sakura with a pout on your face, which makes him froze in his place.

he wiped off your tears and stare at your face for a while. when you were about to open your mouth again to scold him, he brings your face closer to his and give you a quick kiss. "sorry, for..making you worried." silence fills the room as you stare at sakura who's slowly realizing what he had just done, and how red his face is right now.

HAYATO SUOU

"suou, which one looks better on me?" you point your finger at two pink lip gloss while looking at suou, asking him to choose for you. "hm, if you're asking me then i'd have to say both looks good on you." he smiles at you. "well..which color looks best on me?"

"what are these lip products even for?" he asked you a question that made you chuckle. suou reminds you of an old man who won't stop asking about everything. "it's to make my lips look prettier and kissable, of course." hearing the word 'kissable' made him interested, so he chose one of the lip gloss and buys it for you.

after paying for the lip gloss, he told you to try it. "right here? like, infront of the store?" you looked at him with questioning eyes, and he just nods. "yeah, right here." so you did as he said and put the lip gloss on your lips. "hmm, what do you think? does it look pr—" suou grabs you by the waist swiftly and pulled you into a kiss, which makes your eyes widen.

"hm, even without the lip gloss, your lips are already kissable anyway."

UMEMIYA HAJIME

"name, look! this plant is growing already!"

umemiya jumps in his place like a toddler, which makes you chuckle. "that's nice to know." after that, he runs to another plant and say the exact same thing. of course, you're not tired of it. it's your man enjoying the stuff he likes, so you support it.

but right now, you're trying to do your assignments and he won't stop asking you to look at his plants. so you stood up from your place and approached him. "oh? are you finally done with your assignments?" he asked you a question, but you didn't answer. instead, you tiptoed to his height and held his cheeks in your arms, which makes him tilt his head to the side. before he opened his mouth to ask you a question, you kissed him. "sorry, but i'm trying to do my assigments here." after you pulled back, he chuckles.

"if this is your way to tell me to shut up, then i might talk a lot more."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

627 notes · View notes

martyrlamb · 1 year ago

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

2K notes · View notes

binniesbooks · 1 month ago

Note

OKAY SO HERES MY THREESOME WITH TAEJUN THOUGHTS HIHIHI im just gonna leave it here.. eudjsjsjs

Meandom!taehyun x inoccentSub!Reader x SoftDom!yeonjun

Scenario is, you were new to ur new work, everyone us friendly to you and kind and they kept on telling u to NOT mess witn Taehyun and Yeonjun because they said that theyre "mean" as fuck, you on the other hand believe that and ofc ur kinda scared. You accidentally bumped into them because u were rushing since u were late making their paperwork fall. Reader thought they were mean n shit but it was the opposite..(led to her thinking theyre not so mean) Taejun had to "repay" reader since she helped them. They eventually went to Taehyun's hotel room near their workplace (in Okada manila charot HAHAHAHHAJ)

The rest is yours to write na 💋 its up to you what happens next hehehehe (include fingering PLEAKSEERKAIJSIAJDJS and size kink since reader is goddamn small next to them)

• TAEHYUN'S GAME, YEONJUN'S HEART

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 5k

pairings officeworker! Taehyun x newlyhired! reader x officeworker! Yeonjun

warnings threesome, innocent sub! reader, mean dom! Taehyun, soft dom! Yeonjun, drinking, forced drinking, favouritism, sirk kink (Taehyun), restraining, choking kink, teasing/edging (f. receiving), fingering, pet names, praising/degradation, marking, slight nipple play, oral sex (reader and Yeonjun receiving) squirting, overstimulation, protected sex (Yeonjun), unprotected sex (Taehyun), cumming inside, breeding, back scratching, Yeonjun talks reader through it, Taehyun practically shoves reader's face on the bed, hair pulling, some after care (+anything I've missed)

faye's note aaaa my second work that includes threesome! Now that i notice, i think this is the first fic i wrote with so many warnings??!?! And also I forgot something! I unconsciously neglected the "size kink" oh nooo :(( aggkgjndns

+ I'm sorry for not uploading for almost two weeks now, I don't feel really good and has no motivation at all :(( I'll get back to it once i feel okay! For now, I'll just drop this one ;))

It was your first week at the new job, and your excitement was palpable . You had spent a couple of months just looking for a decent job as a fresh graduate. And luckily, you got accepted by this company.

When you first entered the building, curious eyes were immediately bestowed upon you, probably because you were a new hire, you told yourself. However, some of them are considerate enough to smile and greet you. A few even asked you for your department and helped guide you to your assigned floor . They led you to the department heads office and wished you good luck.

A shiny nameplate on the table caught your eyes as you stepped inside the room . "Department Head, Choi Soobin," you muttered.

"I'm the newly hired employee, Y/n, " you bowed.

"Nice to meet you, let's get you started on your work, is that fine with you?" he asked, smiling sweetly.

You nodded and quickly followed behind him. He gave you a quick tour around the floor, letting you be familiar with the facilities available and where to find the equipment you might need at some point. He called everyone's attention and introduced you to them. He assigned one of the Team Leaders to adopt you to his team. You thanked the department head for the tour and watched him close the door behind you after he wished you good luck.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Beomgyu," the tall guy smiled, reaching a hand out.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm y/n, I'll be in your care," you said, shaking hands with him.

"There's an empty desk beside Kai, why don't you have it?" he exclaimed, throwing a glance toward said guy who was now waving his hands, in which you happily waved back.

When you sat down on your table, the office buzzed with activity once again, laughter echoing from different corners, but one thing stuck out amidst all the friendly banter: the ominous warnings about Taehyun and Yeonjun. It seemed everyone had a story about how mean they were, and with each retelling, your apprehension grew.

"Seriously, just stay away from them," Kai said over lunch that day. "They're not just grumpy, they can be downright ruthless!"

You nodded, feeling a mix of trepidation and curiosity. What kind of people could inspire such fear? Were they brooding giants lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unsuspecting newcomer to unleash their wrath upon?

"Uhm, can I ask something?" you whispered after drinking some water. Kai only nodded at you whilst chewing his food.

"I... I can't see any other female workers here on our floor," you asked confusedly.

Kai swallowed before answering, "The reason I'm a bit shocked you were hired."

Your brows knitted, "What do you mean?"

"Taehyun and Yeonjun. They were known for not accepting women in this department."

"Do you think I was hired out of mistake?"

Kai shrugged. He himself doesn't know the answer to that either. He just heard rumors about the dynamics of the duo when he first started working here.

As the week progressed, you navigated your way through introductions, team meetings, and projects, always keeping a wary eye on the far side of the office—where Taehyun and Yeonjun's desks sat. They seemed to exude an air of confidence that was both intimidating and intriguing.

They were actually best friends who stood side by side to make their dream company possible.

Then, the day came when you were running late for the first time. You overslept because of exhaustion from yesterday night's team dinner as a celebration for a successful project. Your morning had spiraled into chaos—traffic jams, spilled coffee, and a misplaced report. With no time to spare, you hurried through the office, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. As fate would have it, in your rushed state, you turned a corner sharply and collided with both men , the files they were holding scattering across the floor.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! ” You gasped, quickly bending down to help gather the papers that fell on the freshly mopped floor, staining the documents wet. A wave of dread washed over you as you braced for their reaction, expecting sharp glares and snarky comments.

Instead, you were met with surprised but soft expressions. “It’s okay,” the one with sparkling eyes said, retrieving his own pile of papers. “No harm done. We're all fine. Glad you didn't slip; be careful next time though,” the other one added with a chuckle. “You must be the new employee here. Accident happens. No worries!”

Your heart raced, not quite able to process the kindness in their voices. You glanced up at them and noted the playful glint in their eyes as they exchanged a look that seemed more amused than annoyed.

“I really didn’t mean to, I was late and—”

“Don’t work yourself up over it, I'm Yeonjun, by the way,” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone light. “It happens.”

"S-sorry," you bowed.

As you helped pick up the last few pages, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe the rumors were just that—rumors. They were far from the mean monsters everyone warned you about. Instead, they were... normal. Friendly, even.

After everything was gathered, you managed to compose yourself, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Thanks for being so understanding, I'd send the files over later, I'll finish this quickly. I just need to encode these again, right?" You blabbered.

"You know, it's not that big of a deal."

"I insist, I'm really sorry," you bowed again, eyes tightly shut.

Yeonjun sighs before looking at Taehyun, "Okay then, but don't rush, that's not an urgent document."

Taehyun tapped your shoulder before walking past against you. You turned around to follow them with your gaze, but you were snapped back to your senses when your phone rang.

Quickly pulling it out of your pocket, you answered the phone while you ran across the hall. Kai called, asking if you were going to work or not. Harshly pushing the door open, your fellow workers snapped their heads towards you. You bowed down out of embarrassment and scrambled your way to your desk, mentally punching yourself for arriving 6 minutes late.

Kai watched you with confusion when he saw you carrying wet documents. "What are those?" he fired.

"Uhm, I bumped with them and knocked their paperwork on the freshly mopped floor," you sighed. Kai gasped and started to check you, whether you were hurt by them or punished, or whatever.

"Kai, calm down. They're not that bad. They even told me not to take care of this, but I just insisted. I can't just leave them be, besides, I only need to encode a few pages," you explained, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're fine," he sighed.

You were about to utter another word when Beomgyu knocked between you and Kai's desk. "Get to work, fellas."

During lunch time, a knock on the door caught Yeonjun and Taehyun's attention.

"Come in!"

"Hi, sir. I uhm... just wanted to give these files," you meekly whispered after noticing they were busy with their desk stacked with documents. You slowly walked towards them, as you handed the document to Taehyun.

"Sorry, Sir, I was really in a hurry earlier," you bowed for the nth time.

“Well, you know, you knocked our papers down," Taehyun started, making you nervous with how his voice announced authority. "And still helped us, although you're running late. It’s only fair we find a way to repay you ,” he added, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Your eyes widened on the other hand. "M-me?"

Before you could add another word, Yeonjun chimed in, “How about we grab dinner after work? We owe you one for saving our precious documents.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Dinner with them? The ones everyone warned you about? “Um, sure, I guess...” You hesitated, but the sincerity in Taehyun's and Yeonjun’s eyes was disarming.

As the workday came to an end, you found yourself walking alongside them, few eyes watching the three of you, making you lower your head, the earlier tension fading with each step. They led you to Taehyun's hotel room nearby—their excuse for a quick bite without venturing far. The atmosphere felt different outside the office. They were relaxed, joking about the day’s mishaps, their initial ‘mean' personas melting away into genuine smiles and laughter.

Inside the room, they ordered in some takeout, the three of you settling on the small couch, the mood shifting into something cozy and lighthearted. They shared stories about their own awkward first days at work as boss, and you found yourself laughing along, the earlier wariness dissipating entirely.

"Sir, I-"

"You can drop the sir when we're outside," Yeonjun chuckles after hearing you say it again.

“Uhm, you know,” you said thoughtfully, “I almost believed everyone when they said you were mean.”

Taehyun shot you a teasing look. “Hyung, I guess we need a better team in the company.”

You laughed, realizing how wrong you'd been about them. As the evening unfolded, it turned into an unexpected revelation: their so-called ‘mean' personalities were just a facade—a guise that hide how wonderfully engaging and human they really were.

Or maybe not, actually.

The plates cleared, and the laughter lingered, a delightful surprise wrapped in newfound friendships. It was, without a doubt, the best decision to bump into them that day, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for that little misstep. "Guess the rumors don’t always tell the whole story," you mused, a smile playing on your lips, feeling tipsy as you swirled the liquor in the glass Taehyun handed.

However, as the time ticked by, you felt a sudden change in the air. Taehyun exuded an aura of confidence that was almost suffocating. He had piercing eyes that could see right through you, a smirk that spoke of his power over others, and an intensity that left you both intrigued and terrified. Yeonjun, on the other hand, was softer, with a gentle demeanor and a disarming smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You found yourself drawn to the difference they represented—one who could command and control , the other who offered warmth and reassurance.

The trio of you soon fell into a deeper conversation about your personal lives, like your relationship and sex life, and you could feel the tension in the air, an electricity that crackled at your fingertips. Taehyun’s gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, making your heart race. You tried to hide your blush but to no avail.

As the night progressed, the energy shifted. Taehyun leaned closer, his voice low and authoritative. “You’re interesting. I can see how innocent you are, how much you crave... experience.” His words sent shivers down your spine, excitement mixed with apprehension.

Yeonjun caught the look on your face, his expression softening as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be curious. Just remember, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” His voice was soothing, a balm against Taehyun’s unpredictable nature.

You were torn between the two of them—the thrill of Taehyun’s dominance and the safety that Yeonjun offered. The night spiraled into a whirlwind of laughter, flirtation, and unspoken desires.

"Come here," Taehyun ordered, tapping his lap.

You hesitated, looking back at Yeonjun, who was currently leaning his head on the couch. He peered over you, nodding a little and giving you a subtle smile.

"Sorry, I shouldn't," you refused, making Taehyun frown a little.

"Aren't you wondering why you're the only girl employee on our floor? And that your workload was not that heavy compared to others?" Taehyun said, loosening his neck tie.

Then you remembered how early you could clock out in the afternoon, leaving Kai and the others for approximately 2 more hours. And how Kai's desk was always stuffed with towering paperwork compared to you, who has only a few documents that could be counted on the fingers of a single hand.

"That, I... I was actually wondering about that," you muttered, gulping at the scene of how Taehyun was slowly exposing his neck.

"Yeonjun hyung was eyeing you from the very start, sweetheart," he said, placing his arm above the couch. "Hyung hired you because you were his favorite. The apple of his eye. Now, come here."

You looked at Yeonjun once again, he flashed you a playful smirk. You stood up, walking over to Taehyun who was sitting across from you. You were just like a tree standing in front of him, clutching onto your mini skirt when Taehyun looked up at you and tilted his head. "Sit," he motioned again.

You bit down on your lip as you carefully sat on his lap sideways. The buzz that the liquor gave you made your brain hazy. You felt a big hand creep around your waist, making your cheeks burn.

"How does it feel? Being Hyung's favorite among the crowd of ladies who tried to file an application?"

"I...I have no idea..." You whispered below your breath, trying to calm yourself from how he was gently massaging your side.

"Hyung, can you look at her? She seems to love how softly you look at her," Taehyun said to the older. Yeonjun's gaze returned towards you on Taehyun's lap and rolled his sleeves up , smiling at you once again, making you feel at ease. He basks in the obvious trust you place in him.

Taehyun turned you around, your back flushed against his chest, making you face Yeonjun. He swiftly pulled his necktie and tied both of your wrists. You were shocked at his sudden action, craning your neck to try and look at him, "Sir--"

"Fuck yes, call me that," he chuckled.

"Taehyun, let her breathe," Yeonjun mutters, picking up the bottle of liquor.

With your hands tied behind your back and Taehyun's hand around your waist, Yeonjun stood in front of you, holding up your chin and a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Sweetie, you don't hate me, right? Nor Taehyun? You won't hate either of us, yeah?"

You shook your head, looking up at him with such soft, pleading eyes. Maybe it's the way Yeonjun looks at you that makes you comfortable, and makes you think that whatever happens inside this very room, you would gladly keep a secret and would dearly hold as a good memory.

"Good girl, I knew I found the one when I laid my eyes on you," he smiled, pressing his thumb against your lower lip.

"Open your mouth, pretty."

You gladly obliged as your eyes followed the bottle he was holding until it was just above your lips. The liquor trickled to your mouth as Yeonjun slowly poured it. Taehyun's hand crept up to your neck, giving your throat a light squeeze. You could hardly swallow, making the liquid spill from your tiny mouth, soiling your white shirt.

"Good girl. Such a good girl," Yeonjun whispered before tossing the empty bottle on the couch. He lowered his head to give you a kiss. The once soft kiss turned into a messy one when Taehyun felt a burning sensation in his chest, tightening his grip on your throat. You panicked as you squirmed above him.

Yeonjun pulled away, and Taehyun's grip loosened, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you as you gasped for air, eyes teary from being suddenly robbed out of oxygen.

"Go easy, Tae. We don't want her to get hurt," Yeonjun chuckled, sitting back down across Taehyun.

Taehyun muttered a soft "sorry, sweetheart," before wrapping his arms around your body and slowly unbuttoning your shirt. You felt weak underneath his touch. Taehyun then hiked your mini skirt up to your waist, exposing your wet underwear.

""Hyung," he called, spreading your legs open. "Look at her."

Taehyun slipped his finger inside your underwear, toying with your clit, making your body shiver.

His finger teased your entrance before withdrawing it again. You gasped loudly when he finally slips his finger inside you.

“Please,” you muttered, making the two males chuckle as they regard your pitiful state.

“So dumb from just a mere finger,” Taehyun comments as he adds another finger.

Your head was spinning from the pleasure. He moves skillfully, pressing on parts that could easily send you reeling. Your eyes shut tightly as you clutched on the hem of your shirt, bucking your hips, seeking for more.

Taehyun curled his fingers inside you, scissoring them whenever you stayed quiet for too long, making you moan and whimper just from his fingers.

“W-wanna cum, please,” you begged.

But Taehyun didn’t want you to cum yet, completely withdrawing his hand and licking his fingers.

You felt your face turn hot, and tried to hide in the crook of Taehyun's neck. You even heard Yeonjun chuckle, making you even more embarrassed.

"Look at her shying away. Let's go to the bed," Taehyun announced. He lets you stand up on your own, "Follow Yeonjun hyung, I'll be there in a minute."

You followed Yeonjun inside the bedroom, hands still tied behind your back.

"Does your hand hurt?" Yeonjun asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"A little," you whispered, feeling the light buzz in your head, blinking the pain away.

"C'mere, let me help you." You walked closer to him, turning around just when you were standing in front of him. Yeonjun untied your hands and turned you around to face him.

"Sorry," he whispered, kissing your wrists, looking up at you. You shook your head and smiled.

"Having your sweet time with the one who favors you most?" Your head snapped towards the door. Taehyun just walked in, holding his belt in his hand, shirtless. Yeonjun stood up, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading straight to the window, closing the curtain.

Taehyun sat on the bed where Yeonjun was earlier. "You ready?" he chuckled, abs flexing.

Before you could even answer, you felt a hand wrapping around your waist and a chin placed on your shoulder. "Baby, are you scared? He's just usually like that," Yeonjun whispered.

"Don't scare her, Tae. Be gentle." The younger nodded, pushing his hair back as he grabbed both of your hands and placed them on his shoulder.

"Now, let's take this off, yea?" Yeonjun tugged at your white button-up shirt, planting a soft kiss to your shoulder, making you shiver.

"Y-yeonjun," you whispered. He hummed back, lightly biting your neck, hands busy on your skirt. Your nails dig into Taehyun's shoulder, making him wince.

Your skirt pooled by your feet. Taehyun grabbed your waist and turned you around, making you sit on his lap again.

His fingers traced the marks Yeonjun left on your shoulder. And without much to do, he latched his lips on your neck, hands fumbling to unclasp your bra. Yeonjun was just standing in front of you, hands in his pocket, a subtle smile playing on his lips. However, his bulge didn't escape your sight.

You threw your head back against Taehyun's shoulder when you felt his cold fingers pinch your nipples.

"S-sir."

"Hyung, help her feel more," Taehyun spoke.

The once overwhelming feeling of Taehyun's hand against your body got severe when you saw Yeonjun kneel in front of you, spreading your legs, pulling at the tiny cloth that barely covered you.

"Now be a good girl for us, won't you?" Taehyun murmurs as he kisses your temple.

Your hand reached back to tangle in Taehyun's hair for the purpose of keeping balance. However, your grip tightened when Yeonjun licked a stripe along your wet folds, making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

Your back arched and your toes curled when he did it again, along with Taehyun pulling and pinching your nipples.

"Mmpph! Please!" You bucked your hips, wanting more from Yeonjun.

"Wow, you look so eager, do you really have no experience?" Taehyun taunts before latching his mouth onto your neck.

Your body felt scorching hot. Strings of pleas, moans, and curses came from your mouth as Yeonjun skillfully ate you out. His plump lips kissing your folds from time to time, his tongue reaching every spot you never knew you had. Your hand flew over to Yeonjun's head as you tried to push him away.

"W-wait.. wait... Sir... Wait I-i, stop, stop please... Wait--"

Your legs were shaking when he pulled away, mouth wet with your arousal and dripping with the clear liquid that gushed out from you.

You whined as a few more spurts of liquid came out of you. "He ate you that good?" Taehyun scoffed, his hand crept down and touched your clit, making you whimper and shiver from the overstimulation. "Squirting from being eaten, how dirty," he added.

You wanted to get off Taehyun to curl up your body, but your legs relentlessly shook when he made you squirt once again with just his finger toying with your clit. Your whimpers and whines made him chuckle. Your body was trembling above him. "Virgin women are so easy," he mocked before carrying you and laying you down on the bed.

"Don't worry, you're doing so good, darling," Yeonjun cooed as he combed his fingers through your hair.

They basically took you under their wings, guiding you through the intricacies of your desires. It was a delicate dance; Taehyun pushed your boundaries, challenging you to confront your fears while Yeonjun was there to catch you when you stumbled.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their gaze on you. You wanted to say something, to explore the thrill of submission with Taehyun, but a part of you needed the reassurance Yeonjun provided.

You didn't want to admit it, but whatever this is that they were doing to you, you were pretty sure you weren't going to be mad. If anything, you were actually enjoying this. Because after living your life for more than 2 decades, you finally get to experience getting laid. With the two of your hot bosses at that.

Unzipping his pants, Yeonjun positioned himself against your throbbing core. Slipping a thin rubber over his shaft, he pumped himself a few times before prodding in your tiny hole.

"You'd take me well, baby, just calm down," he whispered, calming you down. He pulled your legs above his thighs before he slowly pushed in.

"Baby, relax," he muttered. "I can't push further if you don't."

Yeonjun hovers above you, grabbing your arms to wrap them on his shoulder. "Hold onto me."

Your nails dug onto his shoulders the moment he slowly pushed inside. Your back comically arched, and your mouth gaped at how stretched you felt. You pulled Yeonjun closer to your body, seeking assurance and warmth.

"Y-yeonjun, t-too much," you whimpered.

"Hush baby, I'm here. You're taking me so well, don't worry—you're so tight though," he grunts.

You gently tapped his shoulder. "J-jjun, too m-much, c-can't," you muttered, tears threatening to spill from your doe eyes.

"Can't, but you're holding onto him so tight? You aren't even pushing him away. You're such an easy girl, aren't ya?" Taehyun snickered. You peered over him, sitting on the couch just beside the bed, slowly palming himself.

"Now, now, Taehyun, she's about to cry, don't be like that," Yeonjun chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking his arms under your body, picking you up, and letting your head lay on the pillow. His thumb slowly rubbed your cheeks, trying to ease away the pain. "Come on, baby, look at me, don't you cry now, you're safe," he assured and you nod at him.

His pace started to pick up, his gentle thrust becoming a little rough, causing your breasts to jiggle. Your whimpers drowned his silent grunts. His thrusts becoming sloppier. Yeonjun leaned his forehead against yours, biting his lower lip, holding back his moans. "So close, h-hold on for a little longer, hm?" he hummed, kissing your nose.

"Baby... Hold on for a little longer for... Fuck... For me, yea?" His hips started to stutter, you just nodded at him, mind hazy, eyes blurry.

"C-close too. Please, please, please, more, please, Yeonjun.." you gasped, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts, Taehyun, who was watching the both of you long forgotten. His arms started to shake, almost giving out as he tried to hold his body up. His forehead still on yours, breath shaky and panting.

With one last thrust, the knot inside his stomach erupted. His brows knitted together, eyes tightly shut, mouth parted, making foggy huffs, and his arms finally gave out as he thrusted a few more times, slowly, to let you ride out your high with him.

"Fuck, you're so good, baby. You did well," he huffed, kissing your flushed cheeks. You both winced when he finally pulled away. Yeonjun picked you up, hugging your trembling body as he disposed of the used condom.

"One more, okay? You can still do it, right?" he whispered, caressing your back.

"Y-yeah, I think I s-still can," you answered, breathing unsteady.

"Tae, your turn, don't be too hard," he smiled over at the younger male.

With that, Taehyun took the lead, guiding you into a world filled with pleasure and pain, while Yeonjun remained close, always within reach, ensuring your comfort and safety.

Yeonjun was just sitting on the edge of the bed, gently squeezing your hand, while Taehyun had you face down on the bed and ass up for him.

"Maybe Yeonjun was just a little too sweet towards you, wasn’t he?" Taehyun said, lining up against your spent hole. Your eyes met Yeonjun's, and he gave you a sweet, assuring smile.

Unlike Yeonjun, Taehyun was a bit more on the longer side. Yeonjun's was thick, could barely move inside you, but Taehyun's was longer.

"Stop moving, I'm not even halfway in," he snarled, landing a spank on your ass, causing you to yelp.

"T-Taehyun, hurts," you cried.

"That's not my name."

"S-sir..."

"That's more like it. Now behave," he said before pushing all the way in.

"Fucking tight."

You felt every vein and curve of his cock, he didn't even waste his time using protection and just hit it raw. You felt his hand on your throat. Almost making you gag from the sensation. Fat tears rolling down your eyes, Yeonjun's thumb trying to wipe them away.

"J-jun--"

"It's okay, baby. You'll feel better soon, I promise, hush now," he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You yelped when Taehyun tugged your hair, pulling you flushed against his chest. "Do you know what I love about fucking innocent virgins?" he growled against your ears. "They’re fucking tight and keep on clenching around my cock just like you whenever I degrade them."

"Now do me a favor before I ruin you. Suck him." Taehyun harshly lets you go. You landed on Yeonjun's lap, his zipper still open from earlier. You looked up at him, and his eyes were almost gone from how he was smiling at you.

"Let's get your mouth to work, hm?"

"If you can't make him cum, I won't let you cum either," Taehyun taunts, hips still unmoving, but his cock was throbbing inside you.

You pulled Yeonjun's boxers down, exposing his cock still wet from your arousal. "D-don't know how, n-never done this," you whispered to Yeonjun, lips pouting.

"I'll help you, just do what he says, okay?"

You nodded, kissing his tip.

"Taehyun, move now, she's starting," Yeonjun uttered to the younger one, which the younger did, thrusting slowly inside you.

Yeonjun cupped your face. "Lick it."

Your tongue licked his tip, unskilled. Yet he grunts. Yeonjun guided you on what you should do, which you carefully followed. You succeeded in making him let out a moan for a few times. Just when you managed to take him whole in your mouth, your head was pushed down onto his cock. But, it wasn't Yeonjun.

Taehyun practically rammed inside you, even pushed your head on Yeonjun's cock, making you gag around the other male.

"Shit, Taehyun, wait-- y/n." Yeonjun was shaking, he doesn't even know who to push at this point, you or Taehyun.

"Fuck," the other male grunted behind you, pressing his hips further against your ass.

You were clawing on the sheets, tears rolled down your cheeks once again, continuously gagging on Yeonjun's cock.

"Y/n, wait, stop-- fuck!" Yeonjun spilled inside your throat, abs clenching as his orgasm washed over him. On the other hand, Taehyun finally let go of your head, allowing you to pull away as his thrusts became a little uneven.

Yeonjun wiped your tears and your mouth, muttering a soft apology as he tries to make you feel relaxed. "A bit more, I know you can endure it," he says, rubbing the side of your lips, letting you moan and whimper from how Taehyun rams inside of you.

With a final push, Taehyun finally came undone. He didn't pull out yet, making sure he filled you to the brim.

"Such a good girl, taking a load of cum," he chuckled, landing another slap on your ass, making you quiver.

You felt his cum flow out of you when he pulled away. Your body ached so much that you didn't even know you already fell asleep.

By the time the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, you lay between them, breathless and utterly satisfied. You felt clean though, maybe they cleaned you up and took care of you last night. You were facing Taehyun, his arm draped over your waist, his light snores and peaceful look while he was asleep made you chuckle, "What a facade," you muttered. Yeonjun, on the other hand, has his face against your back, his warm breath fanning your bare skin.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle warmth of Yeonjun and the exhilarating presence of Taehyun, you realized that your heart craves not just dominance or softness, but a balance of both, a dance between innocence and experience, yielding and power.

@binniesbooks 2024

243 notes · View notes

prince-jjae · 22 days ago

Text

Pancakes for Dinner.

pairing; beomgyu/reader.

genre; angst, smut, fluff. (so much fluff, im so sorry.)

warnings; childhood friend!gyu, roommate!gyu, hate sex (kinda, not between gyu and reader), yearning...so much yearning..., one-sided affection (or is it?), toxic!gyu, aggressive!gyu, choking used as an intimidation tactic

jjaes comments; this one is.. kinda wild. its taken me weeks to write this. it rlly kicked my ass. this is a little over 5.5k words of pure angst, yearning and fluff. pls dont let this flop. thanks to my beta readers (wives) @liverspaghett and @hyukascampfire, i wouldnt have finished this without you guys.<3

Living with Beomgyu was a horrible idea. One of your worst, by far.

At first, it seemed like the most logical thing to do. You had been nearly inseparable as children, having spent your whole lives attached at the hip. When the looming task of moving out for college came up, of course, staying with your one and only best friend was the best idea you could come up with. And, of course, he jumped at the chance to have some form of familiarity in such a foreign space.

That was two years ago. Things were simpler, back then.

You huffed out a heavy sigh, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the plane. You were headed back home after a much needed trip away. You went alone, of course, much to Beomgyu’s irritation. You always did everything together, why not this, too? You didn’t have the heart to tell him. You simply couldn’t bring yourself to.

How would you even begin to tell him that you loved him, anyway?

–

It started shortly after you two had moved in together. You found yourself drowning in a pile of schoolwork. Essay after essay, quiz after quiz. One particular assignment had you at your wits end, eyes scanning over the same line of text over and over as if rereading it would help it sink in better than the first 7 times you did so. Your head fell against your desk with a loud thunk, the dull pain behind your eyes mixing with the new pain blooming on your forehead. Before you could lift your head to drop it on your desk again, your door opened with the faintest of knocks and a call of your name.

“Hey… you alright? You're gonna knock any sense you have left right out of your head if you keep doing that,” he snarked. Typical Beomgyu, trying to lift your spirits with jokes and half-hearted insults. You snorted out a humourless laugh.

“This homework is leading me to believe I never had any to begin with,” you replied, voice hollow and irritated. Beomgyu’s smirk fell right off his face. He moved closer to you, brows furrowing in concern.

“Hey, wait– Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” he rushed to soothe you, frowning as pulling you out of your uncomfortable desk chair and into his arms. Even as adults, you two were always a bit too touchy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as you melted into his hold with ease. Usually, you were a bit iffy about physical affection. As kids, Beomgyu made it a point to make you accept him and his love. It was his life’s goal, apparently. One he had achieved after 6 years of hard work. Now, you were putty in his careful hands. you let your frustrations melt from your body until only comfort remained, comfort only Beomgyu could give you. He always had a way of making you feel better.

He rested his chin atop the crown of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your back, right where he knew all your tension would be held. “You're one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. You’re not only incredibly smart, but incredibly talented. I will not abide by this slander,” he half-joked at the end, trying to ease you into the way he saw you. You just huffed in reply, burying your face in his chest. He pulled back just enough so he could fix your skewed glasses on your face, smiling at you with that same lopsided grin he had when you first met as children.

“Let's take a break, yeah? I think I heard some ice cream and a movie calling our names.”

–

You always knew he was attentive, that he would make his future partner feel like the most cherished thing on the planet. But after about a year of him being attentive with you, you had a horrifying realisation.

Your heart swooping in your chest when he brought you your favourite snacks randomly, surprising you with your favourite coffee before classes, when he would make you pancakes for dinner as a surprise– it was slowly making one thing terrifyingly clear in your head. You didn’t want his attention to be anywhere else. Those thoughts that you had before about him making a future partner happy no longer felt like a pleasant thought, but it had jealousy rolling white-hot in your stomach. You weren't ready for him to dote on someone else the way he doted on you.

Still, you revelled in the feeling for now. Was it selfish to want to keep this, even if it was temporary? Perhaps, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Especially when he sat on your bedroom floor, back pressed to the side of your bed as you wrote your latest essay, strumming his guitar to fill the air. He was working on a new song, he had said. There were no lyrics quite yet, but the melody he was creating was so.. soothing. It made your head spin with warmth and comfort, but there was a yearning there that you couldn’t help but pick up on. You turned in your desk chair, facing him with your lips pulled into a curious pout.

“What’s it about?” you had asked him, voice gentle and soft as if you were afraid that speaking any louder would disturb the comfortable vibes that had settled over your room. He glanced up from his guitar, head tilted at you like a puppy. Your heart stuttered in your chest, making you glance away. You couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like this, as if you hung the moon and stars for him.

“I’m… honestly not sure. But it seems like it wants to be a love song of some sort,” he replied, looking equally as perplexed. You sat up a bit straighter in your seat.

“Wants to be? Does a song know what it wants to become?” You frowned, confused. Beomgyu was always hard to figure out, even moreso when he became so beautifully poetic like this out of seemingly nowhere. He nodded quickly, soft blond curls bouncing at the movement.

“Every piece of art knows what it wants to become. You just have to let it decide.”

You sat there, stunned into silence. His words hit you in a way you never expected. You thought back to all of your unfinished stories, fictions you had written over the years that never saw the light of day. Only Beomgyu knew about a few of them, not all. After all, how could you tell him that a lot of the stories you wrote were about him? You realised he was right. Whenever you wrote, especially lately, your stories tended to go wherever they wanted. No matter how hard you tried writing various genres, various storylines, various characters.. It always came back to him. It was always him, in the end. You smiled at him, leaning back in your chair as you turned around to complete your essay.

“I think I get it.”

But you didn’t get the chance to tell him. You weren’t brave enough by then.

–

It was 6 months ago when he shattered your internal fantasies. He walked through the front door as normal, tossing his keys in the dish and taking his shoes off. Everything seemed normal, but you instantly knew something was off. Maybe it was the way he seemed a little too giddy today, maybe it was the way his cheeks were tinged red despite the temperate weather outside, but you had a looming feeling that something was about to destroy you today.

You should have trusted your gut.

The news was not surprising, really. That he had a crush on someone and it was going well. No, what gutted you was that it had apparently been brewing for months now, while you were blissfully unaware. You were too busy falling for Beomgyu that you hadn’t noticed him falling, too. But not with you.

Still, he was your best friend. You had no choice but to find joy in his happiness, even if it wasn't shared with you the way you wanted. So you smiled as wide as you were able, congratulating him with as much true happiness as you could muster. He grinned, the smile bright and blinding as he swept you up in his arms, spinning you around. It sliced through your heart knowing that he did all of this platonically.

“God, I really think they’re the one..” he breathed, sounding dazed. He was entirely unaware of the sound of your heart shattering in your chest, nor of the way your fake smile faltered for just a moment.

–

You decided it was time to go on a trip. You needed to get out. Fast. You needed to be as far from Beomgyu as possible, as fast as possible. Luckily you had plenty of vacation time from work built up, and within a few months, you were packed up and ready at the door of your shared apartment.

“Gyu, cmon.. You’ll live without me, right? It’s only for two weeks, and I’ll be back before you know it,” you rushed to console him, even at your own expense. Truthfully, you didn’t want to come back to him. He was absent from the apartment almost all the time now, spending all his time with his new partner. You no longer knew what he was up to, nor how his classes were going, if he was happy, sad, upset. You were a stranger, now. Such an intense change in your dynamic with him became a hot knife in your stomach, carving out your worst emotions and putting them on full display.

It was a tearful goodbye, but not on your account. Beomgyu was a blubbering mess, clinging to your shirtsleeve as if letting go would mean he would never see you again. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, shrugging him off before ruffling your hand through his fluffy hair as you always did. “Besides, you’ll probably be too busy with your partner to have time fussing over me.”

You knew your words were a low blow, but watching his eyes water and bottom lip quiver stroked your ego just slightly. He frantically shook his head side to side with such a fervour you were sure he would break his neck if he kept going. You placed your hands on either side of his face to still him, his cheeks squishing against your palms. He stared at you with those big puppy eyes you loved, and your heart tugged in your chest. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hold him. You wanted to just stay here with him instead of running away like the coward you are.

Alas, he wasn’t yours to do so with, so you pulled away.

Gripping your suitcase, you walked toward the taxi waiting for you, but something gave you pause as your hand made contact with the door handle. You looked over your shoulder, giving him your best, watery excuse of a smile you could muster.

“Be good, okay? Be back soon.”

“You’d better.”

–

If you had some foresight, you would have shut down your computer before you left. Although, in your defence, you were too preoccupied with getting the hell out of the house that you did little to prepare your room for your departure. It really shouldn't be surprising that Beomgyu would go snooping in your room when you weren't there. It was perfectly innocent, he swore! He missed you so much. He needed to be in there to feel your presence again.

It had only been a few days since you had left, and the apartment was eerie without you. He realised just how much you lit up the room when you were there, keeping the apartment’s atmosphere warm and fuzzy with just your presence. He was content with just sitting on your bedroom floor as he usually did. He talked out loud about his day, rambling in his usual way and imagining you were watching with rapt attention and nodding along as always. He caught himself, pressing his lips into a thin line when he realised what he was doing. This was pathetic. He could just call you, but your phone seemed to be off. Not being able to contact you at all times settled a pit deep in his stomach that he didn’t like. His connection to you was severed; cut off at the neck, and he was floundering. He didn’t know what to do without you, so he dragged himself off of your bedroom floor and into his own room, flopping himself face-down on his own bed.

A few hours later, when he realised he couldn’t get a wink of sleep without you, he dragged himself out of bed. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least do something productive, right? He went back to that song he was trying to write, guitar in his lap and pencil tapping against his plush bottom lip as he tried to concentrate. “Cmon.. let the song write itself..” he tried to coach himself through it, to no avail. After an hour of staring at a blank lyric page, he let out a defeated groan. Moments later, he found himself in front of your bedroom door. He couldn't recall how he ended up there, honestly. He swore his feet followed the familiar path to your room of their own volition. He pushed your door open, eyes fluttering just slightly at the way your scent hit him like a wall. He could feel his muscles release the pent-up tension he must've gained during his poor excuse for rest. Beomgyu sighed as he stepped through the threshold of your room. He wanted to settle on the floor with his back against the side of your bed like he always did, but something tugged at him today.

He sat in front of your computer.

You were a writer. He knew that much. He had read a handful of things you deemed good enough for his eyes, and he was positively enraptured with the way you wove words into intricate stories that tugged on his heartstrings. He was hoping, however selfish that hope was, that he could find something to inspire him into writing that damn song. You always inspired him, so surely your writing would do the same.

He swore he wouldn’t snoop for too long, wanting to find something from you, anything from you to aid him in his songwriting woes- and then he found it. Scrolling innocently through your saved documents, something caught his eyes.

“Pancakes for Dinner..” he read off the screen, the combination of words tugging at something familiar deep in his brain. How could he resist? He clicked the document open.

This work was different from your usual writing. It was in a poem format, and the pacing was reminiscent of a song. He wondered, distantly, just when you had the time to write something so interesting- oh.

2 hours ago.

You were writing this on your trip, probably with your laptop or phone. Something about that fact made his heart sink. You obviously had access to the internet, why weren't you talking to him? Were you avoiding him? It seemed unfathomable, you ignoring your best friend, just as he couldn't imagine ignoring you. Frowning, he pushed himself to read.

“Don't want to be forward, don't want to cross a line

But if I were to crash in this plane tonight,

I'd want you to know this.

Don't want to say too much, intrude on your space

But if I were to crash and I didn’t make it home

I’d want you to know this.”

Beomgyu's heart was in his throat. Crashing..? He hated the idea. You were going to be safe. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of you never coming home to him. You were a fact in his universe. A fixed point. Unchangeable. And here you were, writing about dying? About never coming back to him? He felt sick.

“Oh, and to say it is too scary, so I’ll just say something else

And I wish that you could hear me when I talk to myself

But this plane might not land safely

So, what the hell do I have to lose

If I just tell you?

I wanna eat pancakes for dinner

I wanna get stuck in your head

I wanna watch a TV show together

And when we’re under the weather

We can watch it in bed

I wanna go out on the weekends

I wanna dress up just to get undressed

I know that I should probably tell you this

In case there is an accident and I never see you again

So please save all your questions for the end

Maybe I’ll be brave enough by then.”

Beomgyu was floored to say the least. As always, your way with words was so intricate and amazing that he could do little else but read in awe. Something about it irritated him, though. This felt too.. Intimate. Not for his eyes. He knew he was invading your space, yes, but this felt too personal, even for you. You were always so reserved, keeping your emotions hidden and to your chest. Beomgyu prided himself in being able to read you better than anyone else, and yet.. These words. This song you wrote, these lyrics hit too close to home, somehow. He pushed on, but something nagged at the back of his mind that if he continued, things between the two of you would fundamentally change forever. It was a stupid thought, anyway, so he pushed it aside.

“Don't want to say something wrong

Don't want to be weird

But if you're still in love with her

I think that I’ll leave it there

And I won’t ever tell you this.”

The words felt like ice cold water washing over him, stinging and shocking him to his core. You were in love, weren’t you? It was obvious now that he reread the previous lines. You were head over heels. He should be happy for you, he knew that. He should be ecstatic that you could find someone to feel this way about, but that happiness never came. Instead, something raw and ugly clawed its way up his throat, causing him to push away from your desk and slam the door to your room. He didn’t know why he was acting this way. He didn’t care to know. Instead, he threw himself into anything and everything else, trying to rid your heartfelt words from his mind. You were in love, and all it did was piss him off. He completely forgot about his song, and completely forgot to close the tab he was on.

He spent the following few days in a bit of an angry haze. He was meaner. Rougher. you'd be shocked to see what he had become in the wake of his realisation. Part of him wanted to be ashamed of what he was turning into, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. You were in love, he was dating someone, that was the end of it. So he took his anger out in a way he thought would aid him in keeping his priorities straight.

–

“Gyu, wait- slow down-!” his girlfriend cried, but it fell on deaf ears. He simply growled into her ear and gripped her hips in a bruising hold. He was being too mean, he knew that, but he didnt care. Her voice was starting to irritate him. It didn’t sound right. Her moans didn’t sound as pretty as they did before. This knowledge made him hiss and move harder, fuck her faster; Shoving her head into the pillows to muffle the moans that he usually loved to hear.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. You’ll take what I give you,” he spat, fingers tangling in her hair, shoving her face harder into the pillows as he continued to plough into her. She was using your nickname for him. He knew why she was doing it, wanting to exert some sort of power over you in your absence. It made him scowl, but it wasn't enough to make him stop.

It didn’t matter, in the end. It didn’t matter how often he fucked her. It didn’t matter how many surfaces of your shared apartment that he did it on. It didn’t even matter when he did it in your bed. The rage gripped his heart, unrelenting, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Maybe he was sick in the head for this, for trying to wash you out of his life. He shouldn’t be acting this way. He knew he shouldn't be. But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't stop the anger from pushing him beyond his usual limits, turning him into something unrecognisable.

It was the day before you were supposed to come home, and he was exhausted. He supposed that the rage-induced fuckfest he found himself in was just his way of blowing off steam. It was fucked up, it was childish, and he was finally coming down from it.

Kinda.

He had the sense to break up with his girlfriend by now, thank god. It was a rough affair, full of screaming matches and scathing words. She was furious, of course. Not that Beomgyu cared. She was going off on a tirade about you, but he was only half-listening. Something about how she was better than he deserved, that she would get him back for this, that he was a jerk. He just kept staring somewhere beyond her ear, waiting for her to be done. Then she made a horrible mistake.

“Its them, isnt it?” Her words were enough to finally knock Beomgyu out of his trance. His gaze sharpened, zeroing in directly on her face.

“What?” He questioned, though his words felt too sharp, too dangerous. If she had any sense, he thought, she would recognise his words as the warning it was and leave it alone. Alas, she was just as dumb as he expected.

“Your roommate. They’re doing this. They’re the reason, aren't they? That bitch-” Before she could get any further insults out, Beomgyu had her by the throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He almost grinned when she finally had the sense to look scared. He was seething. No one insulted his friend. You were more than just his roommate, you were his best friend. You were his one constant companion, his soulmate. Who was she to get in the way of that? Who was she to insult you; in front of Beomgyu, no less? Was she that fucking stupid?

He had backed her up to the front door, all the while she was spewing apologies and blubbering through her tears. He didn’t care. He stopped caring a long time ago. He only cared about you, he knew that now. He didn’t know how he had ever forgotten it. How could he have forgotten how perfect you were? How could he forget that he only had you?

It wasn't until after he had slammed the door behind her that he finally took a deep breath. It was over. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t feel much about it. She was just a distraction, really. You were his focus. You were always his focus. How stupid was he that he had lost sight of that?

The silence of the apartment rang in his ears painfully. It was taunting him, reminding him of the absence of you. He once again found himself entering your room with little memory of having walked to your door. Here, he could find some semblance of peace. Here, he could delude himself into thinking you were still here; that he could still smell you, feel you, hear you. He glanced at your computer, knowing it was still open to that document. His heart ached in his chest, jealousy eating him alive. How could you love someone else? How did you have the time to? He was almost always with you–

Except he hadn't been, had he? No, he had been too busy with his girlfriend– ex-girlfriend. He felt his chest cave in. You did have time to fall in love with someone. He had nearly done the same. He was such a hypocrite. How could he be angry with you for doing the same thing he did?

He frowned, hand shaking as he moved the mouse to wake your computer screen. He knew your password by heart, typing it in with nimble fingers and bated breath.

“Oh, ‘cause to tell you is too scary

So i’ll just say something else

Like how was fall semester?

And what was that song about?

I’ll try to hide the way I feel, But i’ll just want to shout

Oh, what do I have to lose right now?”

As he read the chorus again, something tugged at his brain. Something was so familiar about it. Even the pre-chorus felt.. Off. What was he missing? He read it and reread it, but nothing popped out to him just yet.

Then something on the screen flickered. His heart lept in his chest, eyes bulging as he watched a different coloured cursor begin to type out words. You were writing this right now. You were abroad, in some other country and yet he still shared this with you. It was almost enough to convince him that you hadn’t left at all, that you were still right here with him. If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear you typing, fingers flying over the keyboard in a flurry of movement like always.

“I think that I should probably tell you this

In case there is an accident

And I never see you again

So please save all your questions for the end

And maybe I’ll be brave enough by then.

Well, maybe I won’t ever say whats in my head

No, I won’t have to say anything

You’ll say it instead.”

That last line haunted him. It echoed in his head over and over. “You’ll say it instead”?

At first, the realisation hit him slowly. Pancakes for dinner, wanting to know what his song was about, being in love with his ex.. You were writing this song about him, weren't you? All these things lined up a little too well with the experiences he shared with you. Then it hit him all at once.

The person you were in love with was him, right? You were in love with him. Your best friend, your roommate, your soulmate. If Beomgyu was shaking beforehand, he was trembling like a leaf, now. This whole time, he was acting out and seething, he spent almost the entire time you were gone in a fit of rage, when in reality he was jealous of himself. He felt both giddy and ashamed. If only he had stayed a bit longer last time he was reading your lyrics. If only he had patience, he would have seen. He would have known that he was the object of your desires this whole time. He felt foolish, embarrassed–

But none of that mattered now. No, what mattered was that you were on your way back to him. What mattered is that you were coming back, and he was never letting you go again.

–

The plane ride back did little to calm your nerves. You had a decent time away, you supposed, but it wasnt the relaxing get-away you were hoping for. You spent the whole time fighting the urge to pick up your phone, wanting nothing more than to fall into the familiar comfort of hearing Beomgyu’s voice in your ears, the dulcet tones smoothing over every frazzled nerve you had. But no, you had to steel yourself. Moving on meant limiting contact.

Beomgyu was like a drug. The more you took of him, the more you relied on his presence, his voice, his touch, his smile. Everything about him was addictive, and you needed to quit. You’d never survive if you stayed so pathetically dependent on him. Quitting cold-turkey almost broke you. Scratch that, It did. It ruined you. You spent the first few days away sobbing into the hotel bed’s pillows, phone safety tucked away in your purse. You promised yourself you would try to find closure.

He loved someone else, plain and simple. You had to move on, not just for your sake but for his. How uncomfortable would he be if he found out about your feelings? Would he think you were disgusting for misunderstanding his actions? For creating this scenario in your head about the life you wished to have with him? Oh, god.. What if he found out about your stories? What if he knew what you wrote about? The scenarios you wove with him in mind were not something you ever wanted him to see. He could never know. He will never know.

You closed the document app on your phone, leaning your head against the window of the aeroplane as a sigh tumbled from your lips. They were bitten and gnawed beyond belief, a habit you had recently picked up as you tried to shove Beomgyu from your mind. The song was your last-ditch effort at putting your feelings from your mind. Maybe if you admitted it out loud, you could move on. Acceptance is the first step, or something like that. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine how the reunion was going to go. Should you move out? Maybe it would be best. The idea of being further separated from Beomgyu made your chest clench painfully, making you shake your head. No, you couldn’t do that. You weren’t strong enough to make that large of a step, even if it was what would save you.

If leaving Beomgyu meant your doom, you would accept your fate with open arms.

–

He was exactly where you expected him to be, standing at the terminal and waiting for you. Though, you knew it wouldn’t take any real effort to pick him from a crowd. You only ever saw him, anyways.

Before you could say anything, his eyes met you and you swore time stood still. Neither of you moved for a few long moments, just staring at each other in awe. Seeing him again, seeing the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, made all your self-respect fly out the window. All the work you had put in during your trip had been knocked down in an instant. How could you ever think you’d be anything other than his? It was written in your DNA, you belonged to Beomgyu, whether he knew it or not. That was your fate. He was your fate, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

Then the moment broke, and you were being twirled around in a bone-crushing hug. Beomgyu was nosing eagerly at your neck, taking in your scent first-hand instead of your room. He sighed against your skin.

“You’re home,” he breathed, sounding dazed. You understood the feeling, nodding dumbly as he set you down on the linoleum again.

“I’m home,” you affirmed, looking up at him. His hands never left your waist. Normally, you'd have no problem with it but you knew this feeling of greed was wrong. Your hands pressed gently against his chest in a weak effort to push him away. Your heart wasn’t into it. “You have a girlfriend, Gyu, hands off.” Beomgyu scoffed, face hardening at the mention of her.

“Ex,” he corrected, staring down at you with an intensity that had your stomach tensing. “Ex-girlfriend.” He clarified, hands staying firmly planted on your waist. You swore you could feel his thumb stroking your side gently, but you were sure it was just your imagination.

“Oh..? Are you okay–” You couldn’t get any further words out, not when his lips pressed to yours like that. You froze, muscles stiffening under his hold. He paid it no mind, continuing to kiss you senseless. When you finally began to relax against him, he pulled away. Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring up at him as you fumbled for words. “I– you– what–?”

“I’ll say it instead,” He began, sounding just as breathless as you did. When you looked at him with confusion, he just laughed. “That love song I was writing was for you. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was. It was always going to be for you. I make you pancakes for dinner because I know you don't like candies, but still crave something sweet at night. I bring your favourite coffee to you before your classes because I love the way your eyes light up when you realise I memorised your order. I’ll say it instead, because I want you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you, I think. I just never knew until I thought I had already lost you.”

Your head was spinning. He wasn’t giving you any room to breathe, instead he pressed his forehead to your own, hands moving up to hold your face in a gentle grip.

“You love me too, right? You wrote that for me, yeah? God, please say yes–” This time you were the one cutting him off with a kiss, pressing so fervently into him that his eyes rolled back into his head. This was everything he ever needed and never knew he wanted. He loved you, he would say it every day, every hour. He would be sure to remind you all the time so you never forgot. He needed you more than anything in his life.

“Yes.” You breathed against his mouth before diving right back in. With a single word he knew; he was yours, now and forever.

taglist; @hwanghyunjinismybae @biteyoubiteme @chyuuiung

#jjae's bookshelf #jjae hard thoughts #beomgyu fic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu/reader

151 notes · View notes

awbublie · 25 days ago

Text

wait my mc lore just dropped 🙀🙀

mc lore is here >.< fret not!!

they are a glorified self-insert i am shameless and will insert myself into my favorite media!!!

though she isn't a complete rip-off of me, maybe like 60% me

though i do love napco figurines

(edit: im so stupid and thought mx stood for mexican😭😭😓)

relationship charts!!!

caught mc on a good day!:

essentially means mc got a higher score than 60 on a test and just got a sweet treat.

feeling like contributing to society, she helps this rando return a phone.

seven:

both work with computers, he's just levels ahead of them.

inferiority complex kicks in til he starts helping her with assignments and omg im in love with this man.

likes his jokes and his robots are sooooo cool, "you think you can make one look like this? :3" insert image

calls him so he can practice his english and she can practice her korean.

the flirty banter really kicks up and they get their hopes up

gets butthurt day 8 when he turns them down.

jaehee:

desperate for female friends mc is overly-sweet and clingy.

jaehee is overwhelmed and explains in order for them to be proper friends time is needed.

they are now bonding over coffee beans and how mc brought some from her last Mexico trip

i WANT THEM TO LIVE TOGETHER SO BAD

yoosung:

misses her siblings so he's the closest to a little brother.

finds out guys don't typically like that when you tell them that, especially if they are older.

they make up and bond over their no-life life

trains in LOLOL for the next couple days bc DANG IT SHE WILL PLAY IN HIS LOBBYS!!!!

share shoujo recs

zen:

when he flirts at first, her heart flutters.

till jaehee gives her the warning, and atp jaehees word is bible

finds him silly but like in a older man kind of way

finds his costumes interesting and asks about the type of fabrics they use

during 707 route, she leans into the whole big sister zen and LOVES IT

jumin:

not too big with rich people and was quick to form an opinion

finds out ab Elizabeth and everything that they had thought gets thrown out the window WHAT A NICE MAN!

til shes asking about the area and he says something along the lines of "why move to a country you know nothing about? You are simply asking to fail. "

YEAH HES RIGHT BUT HE DIDNT HAVE TO SAY THATTT 😭😭😭

is bitter for the next 2 days before she gets over it

caught mc on a bad day!:

felt with the daddy issues (we cannot control our fathers we have nothing to do with our father's errors they do not define what we do or who we become we can disagree with them and still love them)

the professor was moving too quickly during class, her computer was working, she fell behind and her brain is fried. it feels like it's been happening more and more....honestly it feels easier just to rot in bed sleeping.

getting a random message just worsens her mood. "i cant even help myself and im supposed to help you?" rolling over to try to make sense of the class notes.

saeran:

got kidnapped and had their laptop open

"you follow me on github?"

mc BEGS for him to teach them everything he knows

ends up becoming an intern and moving their classes online

but wait...this guy is lwk kinda cute....

and he's taking the time to teach me??? >.<

blind to their situation mc follows instructions and fufills small tasks

saeran gives her badge "ID:10T"

cleaning his code to filling up the office waterbottle, all in payment for bootcamp-saeran™

reminds her of a teacher she had once, ick

finds him to be kind of a doormat, but so is she

doesn't enjoy seeing how others might view her

(707 route bc i forgot to mention him there) can't help but feel sorry for him, she may not trust him but i mean cmon they can't help but feel bad dude lost his fiance and now seems like he can't keep his life together

rika:

again, desperate for female friends, but this one IS SO DIFFERENT

this is like when you make eye contact with someone of a similar group and you kinda expect automatic friendship but they are cold to you

mc is either ignorant of mint eyes operations or is slowly being indoctrinated, they don't meet rika very often.

they form a kind of bitterness towards her, rooted in her insecurities

"how can someone be so loved?" "how can someone just 'create' a world of their own" "whats so special about her, i'd be able to do something like that too"

by only hearing of her through saeran they feel so insignificant to her influence, it weakens them

162 notes · View notes

haetrack · 10 months ago

Note

hi!! can i request for smut jaem who lets you borrow his computer while he's still in his room. and he watches you from the back of his gaming chair and slowly becomes touchy (like hugging your neck and caressing your body slowly until he fingers you while still sitting on his chair) oh! and you guys can't be too loud because members are at the kitchen. hehe thanks omg

req 2: bf!jaemin x f!reader (ft. roommates haechan and jeno)

wc: 2.8k

warnings: smut (MDNI!), jealousy, dirty talk, fingering, light exhibition and voyeurism, one bite on the neck, light gagging, soft dom!jaemin, sub!reader, accidental roommate haechan favoritism (im sorry)

it’s rare that you go to jaemin’s apartment. in a mutual, undiscussed understanding at some point, you both decided that it’s better that you go to your apartment over jaemin’s. he’s wary of his roommates being in your presence. he tries making small excuses, he hasn’t cleaned, he has class, even takes you out to eat before you can step foot in his apartment.

he’s seen the way that his roommates look at you. he swears he’s not a jealous person, but he can’t really help it when it comes to you. it’s when he sees haechan cuddle up to your side, sees jeno try to carry your stuff when you come in. he feels bad for lying to you, but it’s better than constantly seeing them flirt with you.

he realizes you coming over might be unavoidable tomorrow. you called him nearly crying, saying how your laptop wasn’t turning on while having multiple assignments due. he couldn’t just let you cry, not while knowing that he has a solution for you in his room. he stares at his computer, looming over the consequences of letting you come over. he’d rather see you pass your classes, more importantly, be happy.

he tells you that you can come over tomorrow to finish whatever you need. you happily tell him thank you, how he’s the best boyfriend in the world. he laughs airly in the mic, saying he’d do anything for his angel. at the end of the call, before you say goodnight, he hears you say can’t wait to see everyone tomorrow. he grits his teeth, giving the nicest response he can to that. you laugh, telling him goodnight. before he turns off his phone though,

jaemin: don’t forget to ask for extensions for your assignments ❤️

you: aaaa i forgot!!! thank u baby 🫶

the dreaded day comes. he decides to pick you up after your class so you can get started on your work right away. he coos, hands cupping your face as he comforts you from the call last night. you grin at him, grabbing one of his hands to place a kiss on it. he has to forcibly stop himself from pressing kisses all over your face, deciding to grab you by the waist and walk you to his car. it all feels normal, and jaemin almost drives to your apartment instead of his.

he tries not to frown too hard when you both arrive, taking a deep breath before opening the door. he knows everyone is in the apartment (because who likes having classes on fridays), so he can’t even move you to his room safely. he opens the door to find jeno and haechan seated on the couch together, immediately taking note of you.

“it’s been so long since i’ve seen you here!” haechan starts, and before he can hug you, jaemin moves to give you a back hug. haechan scoffs, “it’s almost like your boyfriend has been hiding you from us, huh?”

you tease him for his dramatics, “i would be coming over if you guys weren’t so busy all the time! every time i want to come over, jaemin says you’re too busy.”

“i wonder why he’d say that,” jeno snides, “i like seeing you around here.”

“i like seeing my boyfriend’s friends, too! he’s gatekeeping you guys a little too hard.” jaemin dryly laughs at your joke before pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto his. he sees jeno looking at him before chuckling at the sight, knowing exactly why he was doing that.

“well, my baby has a lot of work to do, so we better get going to my room…” jaemin says, trying to get you out of there before anything else happens.

haechan raises his eyebrows as you leave, “see you soon, angel.”

jaemin turns to give them the middle finger before he shuts the door.

you sit yourself at his desk. despite your lack of visits to his apartment, you feel familiar in his space. he turns on everything for you, sad that his baby has to do all this work when you’re at his place. you thank him once again, pressing a kiss to the side of his cheek. “anything you need, i’ll get it for you.”

“actually! can you refill my bottle for me,” you grab it out of the side pocket, “forgot to fill it up before we left campus.”

“of course. be right back.” he grins. he kisses you as if he won’t be back in two minutes or less. you let out an appreciative sigh, quietly thanking him once again as you ignore the heat on your face.

jaemin slowly makes his way out of the room, tries not to bring any distractions to you and your work time. he tiptoes in the hallway, kitchen close to his room. he can hear both haechan and jeno’s voices in the middle of a conversation, and he can’t help but listen in. when he hears one slip of your name, he barges in, cutting off their talking immediately.

“you should’ve told us we’d be having a guest today,” haechan slinks next to jaemin, eyes playfully challenging him, “we all could’ve watched something together.”

“you didn’t even let me grab her backpack,” jeno sulks, “i could’ve done that myself.”

“well, those aren’t really your jobs, are they? guess who’s her boyfriend and guess who are not.” jaemin closes the refrigerator, pouring in the filtered water you so nicely asked for.

haechan raises his hands in defense, “i’m just saying, if you bring someone so pretty over, i can’t help but look.”

jeno nods in agreement, “if i were you, i’d be showing her off at any chance i could get.”

jaemin loudly disagrees, “this is how i can tell you’ve been single for too long! you just don’t get it.”

haechan whines, “maybe you could do us a favor and help our sad, lonely sex lives with the help of your-”

jaemin cuts him off, “nope.” before haechan can say anything else, jaemin walks away, and haechan is earned with a second middle finger of the day.

jaemin never feels like this.

he can feel how jealous he is in the pit of his stomach. it’s only you two in the room, you at his desk, and him laying uncomfortably in his bed. though the brightness of his phone screen is glaring back at him, he’s more focused on the sight of you at his desk. he’s not sure you’re aware of haechan and jeno’s feelings towards you, but he’s trying everything to stop them.

he knows they aren’t being serious. haechan is constantly joking about everything, and jeno’s just… like that. though he could never blame you for anything, you’ve never let anyone else have your undivided attention but him. he knows you love him, but he can’t shake this feeling off. he needs a little reassurance right now and he’ll try not to bother you too much.

it all goes wrong when he stands behind you in his gaming chair. you look so good right now, in his room, in his chair. once you feel his presence behind you, you look up and smile. his face mirrors yours, and he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, “keep going, pretty, just wanna watch you for a bit.”

you nod, getting back to your work. his eyes are stuck on your every movement, watching you type, how you shake your leg, how you bite your lip in concentration. you look so pretty like this, not knowing how a familiar feeling sets to the bottom of jaemin’s stomach, eyes becoming hooded at the sight of you. after hard contemplation, he lets his hands settle on top of your shoulders.

he can tell you’re smiling, head nuzzling up against his arm. his bends over to place his head on your shoulder, hands moving to slip up and down your sides. he can feel how warm your face is, the close proximity making you nervous. his hands move a little lower to your hips, grabbing at the skin there. he hums appreciatively, liking how soft you feel under his touch. he can feel you slightly squirm around, trying not to let his touches distract you.

you can feel his warm breath on your shoulder, sending chills down your spine. what’s unexpected is how you feel his tongue swipe across your skin before leaving a wet kiss there. you shudder, and you can feel his sickly-sweet smile against your skin. you whine out his name, and he shushes you, pressing more kisses onto your skin.

you can feel yourself getting lost in him, your eyes skipping over the words in an article you’re reading, mind becoming hazy. your head lolls to the side, giving him more access to your neck. he licks up from the junction of your neck up to your jaw, his hands warming themselves up by your thighs. his hands come close to your core, before he removes them completely by putting them under the shirt you’re wearing.

“jaemin, please.” you’re not really sure what you're asking for, but when you feel his hands by the cup of your bra, you can’t help the pleads coming out of your mouth.

“tell me what you want, pretty. need to know what my angel wants so i can give it to her,” he hums out, fingers messing with the fabric of your bra.

“just-” your breath hitches when he bites down on your neck before leaving a small kiss, “need you, jaemin. wanna feel you in me, just please give me more.”

“all you had to do was ask, angel.” his hands push up your bra over your boobs, groping around them, pinching at your nipples. you whisper out a kiss me, and he just can’t say no to his baby, reaching over further to kiss you. your work is left neglected, the only things mattering right now is your boyfriend and the ache between your thighs. he can see how needy you are, how your moans slip in his mouth, how you push your chest into his hands.

one hand leaves your chest to slip under your pants and underwear, meeting with your wet folds, “so wet, baby, dripping all over with just a few touches.”

“just for you, jaemin. please, need your fingers.”

and who is he to say no to you? his fingers tease your entrance, a loud whimper slipping out of your mouth. jaemin remembers that you both aren’t alone, hearing the light shuffling throughout the apartment. he removes his other hand from your chest, pressing it over your mouth to cover up your sounds, “can’t be too loud, pretty. those sounds are only for me to hear.”

one finger slips inside of you, a muffled moan covered up by his hand. you can hear him lowly chuckle at you, happy with the results. with being teased too much before, you clench around his fingers, signaling to him that you need more. he obliges, of course, another finger moving inside of you. he curls them in you, feeling for that sweet spot inside you. once he finds it, he feels you moan, feels how drool is already slipping past your lips.

he can feel how hard he’s straining against his sweats, but too enamored by you to do anything about it. plus, he’d rather fuck you without having haechan or jeno around. they don't deserve to hear you like that at all. his breath is getting heavy, he needs to see how he’s affecting you, needs to see his pretty angel’s face.

he pulls his chair back, allowing himself to kneel on the floor in front of you. it’s not until now you can see just how affected your boyfriend is by this. his cheeks are pink, lips swollen from the kissing and biting, your boyfriend on his knees just for you. he has a lazy smile on his face, eyes full of love for his angel. he presses kisses along your thighs, your legs slowly opening up from him to see.

his hand is no longer covered over your mouth, tsking at the sight of your pleading eyes. “trust you to not make so much noise. don’t want everyone else to hear how good i make you feel, hmm?”

you quickly nod, jaemin reaching up to press a soft kiss to your lips. even now, at times where he has you like this, he manages to be so sweet. it only turns you on more. he spreads your legs further apart, looking at how wet and needy your pussy is for him, begging for his help. he presses a kiss to your clit, your thighs closing around his head. he lets out a genuine laugh before he playfully scolds you, telling you to behave.

his fingers move to your aching core, once again slipping his fingers in. you clench tightly around them, your hips rolling in time with him. his thumb hooks up to rub your clit, your thighs almost closing around his hand. he moves to force your legs open, pressing quick kisses along the insides of your thighs. “my angel is always so sensitive, love it so much.”

you’re biting down onto your bottom lip, whimpers threatening to come out. he’s so content with just watching you fall apart, his head resting on your thigh, eyes roaming all over your body. you aren’t sure what exactly riled him up, but it doesn’t matter when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. you can’t stop the little sobs that escape you as you feel yourself unraveling.

he can see tears forming in your eyes, the pleasure being almost too much for you. he can feel you shaking under his hold, feels how you’re dripping all over his hand. he sees your composure slip as he adds one more finger, a sharp whimper of his name leaving your lips. he watches in morbid curiosity as you grab his free hand and move it up to your mouth, gagging yourself with his fingers.

he nearly cums in his pants at the sight of you overcome by pleasure, the feel of your tongue slipping between his fingers. you wanted to be so good for him to the point of where you wanted to be gagged, wanting to please him more than anything. he doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t care if haechan or jeno can hear you, doesn’t care about his throbbing cock spilling precum in his boxers. he’s so infatuated with you.

he’s pulled out of his daze when he hears footsteps of someone walking towards the rooms. you moan out to him that you’re close, can hear how sopping wet you are and how you’re clenching tightly around his fingers. your muffled voice comes out, “p-please, jaemin. please! i wan’ cum so bad. wanna cum all over your fingers!”

“yeah? my angel wants to cum?” he asks, hearing how the footsteps stop in front of his door. “cum all over my fingers, show me how much you love me. only me.”

you moan loudly as he lets his fingers slip out of your mouth, moving his now wet fingers to your boob to help you cum. your chest arches forward and your hips grind down, nearly screaming as you cum all over his fingers. he helps you ride it out, praises you for being so good for him, being his sweet angel.

he hears the footsteps quickly walk away from his door, smiling to himself at the thought of someone hearing the both of you. he sees tears slip out of your eyes, he moves up to kiss your cheeks, whispering to you about how much he loves you. you nod, eyebrows furrowed and mouth unable to say anything just yet. he sits back down to let you catch your breath, one hand soothing over the soft skin of your thigh.

he sees you slowly come back to him, sees the tired smile you give to him. “let’s move to the bed, angel. wanna cuddle with you.”

you hum in agreement, and he drags you over, letting you lay down comfortably onto his bed. he joins you, presses kisses all over where he can reach. “you did so good for me. i love you so much.”

“i love you too, jaem.”

he feels your breaths get deeper, letting yourself fall asleep happily against him, all work and stress forgotten. jaemin almost falls asleep too, not until he feels how his phone begins buzzing.

haechan: god DAMN

haechan: did u guys have to do that NOW???

jeno: do what

jeno: DO WHAT!!!!!!!

haechan: THEY BOTH FUCKED AND I HAD TO HEARRRR

jaemin: literally no one told you to listen in

jaemin: and we didnt even have sex youre delusional

haechan: well u know

jaemin: dont even finish what youre going to say

jaemin: hopefully now you know who my angel loves most ❤️

haechan: who said that

jeno: i suddenly cant read

jaemin: 🖕

a/n: thank u for the request 🫶 literally loved writing this jaemin we all love u. my first jaemin post i’m kinda nervous… i hope u nanadoongies enjoy muah muah

taglist: @vqlentinez @froggyforyoongi

#asks #reqs :3 #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct scenarios #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic

832 notes · View notes