#my writing habit is to write smut about guys i think are hot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyuckiefluff · 3 months ago

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call out my name | lee jeno

pairing: stepbrother! lee jeno x fem reader genre + wc: smut / enemies to lovers-ish | 17k+ summary: your stepbrother suddenly starts acting a bit different after fixing your laptop, and you wonder if it has anything to do with the endless posts you’ve made about wanting him to fuck you brainless. content warning: stepcest, voyeurism, masturbation, cheating, smoking and brief mentions of drug use, unprotected sex, hard dom jeno, oral (fem receiving), face riding weee, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, jeno is a bit mean (but like in a hot way), lmk if i missed any! a/n: haven’t written for jeno in soooo long and my body needed it. also, beatbox era jeno still has me in a chokehold, so i imagined him looking exactly like that while writing this. that mullet-undercut combo was LETHAL i need him to reheat his own nachos expeditiously. also the lowercase is back too, i'm still trying to figure out if i like this more lol ps: if u catch the twilight reference you’ll get a kiss from me :p

jeno stomped into your room, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, jaw tight with irritation. your voice still echoed in his head.

‘fix my laptop and i won’t tell your dad you’ve been skipping almost every class since the semester started.’

fix it? he wasn’t a damn IT guy. and how the hell did you even know he’d been skipping? what were you, a stalker?

seriously, it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t take care of your stuff. and why couldn’t you just take the damn thing to a repair shop?

“i need it for college work,’ you’d said.

yeah, right. like he didn’t hear you at night. his room was right next to yours, and those walls were way too thin. not only were you loud, but you also needed headphones, because he could hear exactly what kind of videos you watched.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, stepping up to your desk. the laptop sat there, taunting him in its sickly sweet pink case covered in hello kitty stickers.

“god, what a child,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before plopping onto your chair. the cushion was still warm from you sitting there earlier. he flipped the laptop open, and a password prompt appeared.

he tried your birthday first. denied.

with a sigh, he scanned your desk. you were forgetful, he was sure you had the password written somewhere. his eyes landed on a cluster of polaroids, mostly of you and your boyfriend. he grabbed one and flipped it over. sure enough, there was a scribbled note in your messy handwriting.

‘happy anniversary, my baby ❤️’ and a date.

jeno scoffed but typed it in anyway. the screen unlocked with a soft chime.

the moment your desktop loaded, he was met with a picture of you sprawled out on a beach towel, skin sun-kissed, in a tiny white bikini that barely covered anything. jeno swallowed.

several seconds passed before he snapped himself out of it, shaking his head and forcing his attention elsewhere.

your laptop was a disaster. it was clogged with files, random downloads, and so many pop-ups it was a miracle the thing still functioned. he clicked around, deleting error files and clearing out junk.

then a notification popped up from a browser window that was open in the background.

he opened the tab out of habit, not expecting anything interesting, but then the page loaded and he had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing right.

it was a blog called ‘horny antidotes.’

"what the hell is this?" he snorted.

he scrolled, thumb hovering before tapping on a section labeled confessions. a list of posts loaded, the oldest ones stretching back to the beginning of last year. against his better judgment, he clicked the most recent entries.

i tried it again tonight. used my fingers since the new toys i got don’t really feel good either. i think my boyfriend’s starting to suspect something. it’s kinda weird that i barely get wet when he touches me (╥_╥) we even try watching porn together, but it does nothing for me. we just scroll through hundreds of videos and i feel nothing, while he gets hard so easily. so i end up sucking him off.

jeno’s brows lifted. jesus.

i get more turned on looking at pictures of LJN. but i can’t touch myself to him… it feels wrong. so i gotta find an alternative. any tips? (>д<)

LJN?

his lips parted. those were initials. your boyfriend’s? no… his.

L. J. N.

lee jeno.

his pulse jumped. before he could think better of it, his fingers typed LJN into the blog’s search bar.

hundreds of posts popped up.

he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

no fucking way.

today LJN helped me with my homework. he looked like he hated every second of it. it was hard to focus when he sat so close… his cologne makes me feel so… hot (/ω＼).

jeno dragged a hand down his face. he’s not imagining all this? right?

my boyfriend and i broke up again (kinda) (μ_μ). same reason as always… our sex life sucks. he thinks i’m not into him, but that’s not true. he tries… i just… anyway, LJN knocked on my door today. he was only wearing a towel. i almost dropped to my knees right there and then. how does someone get abs like that? god, those arms… veiny and strong… maybe i should call my boyfriend and try again…

a slow smirk stretched across jeno’s lips. so your boyfriend can’t get you off, but i make you wet that easily? he thought.

his gaze drifted to your bed. the sheets were a tangled mess, barely clinging to the mattress. did you write that post after touching yourself last night? thinking about him?

he exhaled through his nose, head shaking like he couldn’t believe it. but god, his stomach clenched at the thought of you squirming with his name in your head.

sure, he knew people found him attractive. girls threw themselves at him all the time. but you? who argued with him over stupid shit, called him an asshole just this morning while throwing a sock at his head?

you wanted him. wanted him so bad you spilled it online for strangers to read.

his gaze flicked back to the screen, to the words where you described his cologne driving you crazy.

he should’ve stopped reading but instead, he clicked on another post.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next morning, you woke up to find your laptop working perfectly. no note, no sarcastic comment scribbled on a post-it, nothing. just fixed.

weird.

you headed downstairs, fully expecting jeno to be in his usual morning mood, grumbling about chores, throwing half-hearted jabs just to rile you up. but when you found him on the couch, he was… quiet.

"hey," you said, grabbing a drink from the fridge. "so… thanks for fixing my laptop."

he barely glanced up, his gaze flickering over your bare legs for a heartbeat before settling back on his phone.

"yeah, no problem."

...that’s it?

you waited. no snark about your messy folders? no whining about how you owed him now?

your brows knit. "you okay?"

jeno stretched his legs, shorts riding up just enough to show more of his muscular thighs. "yeah, why wouldn’t i be?"

"i dunno," you said, eyeing him. "you’re acting weird."

he chuckled, head tilting as he shot you a lazy grin. "i’m always like this in the mornings. maybe you just don’t pay enough attention to me."

"trust me," you muttered, taking a sip from your drink, "i pay plenty of attention to you."

jeno’s lips twitched almost into a smirk.

then he hummed.

"yeah, i know."

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next few days, jeno turned it over in his mind—how to play this.

sure, the whole thing was entertaining, but you were still his stepsister. technically. your parents weren’t married, but they’d been together for about four years, and you’d been living under the same roof since last year.

not that you and jeno were close. you barely crossed paths, always out with friends or holed up in your room when you were home. plus, he found you immature. spoiled. maybe it was the three-year age gap, or maybe it was how quickly you’d settled in and made this place your own. his dad had asked him to be patient with you—“it’s a big change for her”—but if you were struggling, you hid it well.

especially with how you put on that perfect little act for your parents. sweet and responsible. as if you weren’t sneaking your boyfriend in through the window at night. or slipping out when you thought no one noticed. jeno noticed.

he just never cared enough to call you out. but the hypocrisy definitely grated on him. pretending to be miss goody-two-shoes when, by your own confession, you were getting railed by a guy who couldn’t even get you off?

the irony wasn’t lost on him. neither was the opportunity.

he could confront you. he’d definitely enjoy to watch you squirm, see that spark of defiance flicker into panic. tempting.

but maybe… maybe he’d keep this to himself a little longer.

drag it out and see just how much fun he could have before you caught on.

the perfect opportunity presented itself only a few days later when your parents announced their trip to italy for valentine’s day. conveniently their anniversary was also coming up, so they’d be gone for two whole weeks.

“we’ll be back next sunday,” jeno’s dad said, ruffling your hair. “don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

you rolled your eyes, half-smiling, but then his tone shifted as he turned to jeno.

“jeno, take care of her. don’t let her get into any trouble. no parties or anything reckless.”

jeno nodded without a word, eyes flicking toward you before he turned back to your dad with a forced grin. “got it.”

you mom stepped forward, kissing your cheek, her hand lingering on your shoulder a moment longer. “be good, okay? we’re trusting you.” her gaze softened but held an unmistakable warning beneath it.

you knew exactly why. after all, it wasn’t like you had a spotless record. just three months ago, you had come home drunk after sneaking out to a friend’s party. what was supposed to be "just a few drinks" had turned into you singing on top of the table and someone posting it to their story. your parents found out the next morning, thanks to your neighbor, of all people, who’d seen the video. it hadn’t even been that scandalous, except for the fact that you were obviously drunk and under 21 at the time.

the hangover was bad, but the lecture was worse. "you’re lucky jeno was there to drag you home," your mom had said, shooting you a disappointed look. jeno had played the responsible older kid that night, carrying you out before things got worse. but that didn’t stop your parents from being more protective now. especially of you.

still, it annoyed you that all the warnings were directed your way while jeno stood there looking like a saint, when you knew he was anything but. sure, he hadn’t gotten wasted like you, but he was at the same party smoking weed on the back porch, making out with some girl whose name he probably didn’t even know, and encouraging shots like he was the party host. he was just lucky none of that was caught on camera, unlike you.

when the front door closed behind them, a strange silence settled over the house. you watched through the window as they loaded their luggage into the car and drove off. two weeks alone with jeno. what could possibly go wrong?

“guess it’s just us now,” you muttered.

jeno’s lips twitched into a small smile. "looks like it."

his gaze flickered over your body while you were distracted. this will be so much fun, he thought.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the house felt bigger without your parents around. normally, you’d take full advantage by inviting friends over, staying out late, and enjoying in the freedom. but something about being alone with jeno had you on edge.

not uncomfortable, just… wary.

he’d been acting strange lately. not openly, but enough that you noticed. it was in the way he looked at you now, like he knew something you didn’t.

you were scrolling through your phone in the kitchen that night when he strolled in.

"big plans while they’re gone?" he asked, pulling open the fridge.

"nothing crazy," you said, thumb still flicking at your screen. "just enjoying the peace and quiet."

he let out a low hum, the kind that sounded like he was holding back a laugh. "right. because you’re such a quiet, well-behaved girl."

your scrolling stopped. your gaze snapped up to him. "where’s that coming from?"

jeno didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer reaching past you for a glass in the cabinet overhead. the movement brought him close enough that his cologne hit you warm, musky, annoyingly good.

"you know," he murmured, voice just above a whisper, "you might fool them. but not me."

your heart skipped. "i have no idea what you’re talking about."

he dipped his head slightly, eyes flickering to your cleavage.

"sure you don’t."

then he was gone, leaving you in the kitchen with your pulse pounding and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

the weekend arrived quicker than expected, and despite jeno’s weirdness lately, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

until saturday.

jeno was sprawled on the couch, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his knee. his gaze drifted up just as you wandered into the living room, barefoot and still in your sleepwear—a thin tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass. you didn’t even glance his way, too focused on your phone as you padded toward the kitchen.

it was almost funny, how careless you were around him. clueless, really.

jeno bit back a smirk.

"you’re up early," he said, breaking the quiet.

you glanced over your shoulder while pouring cereal into a bowl. "uh… yeah?"

he shrugged. "figured you’d be catching up on sleep after sneaking out last night."

your hand faltered for half a second. it was subtle but enough for him to notice.

his grin widened as he leaned back against the couch cushions, arms draping lazily over the backrest. "right."

you set the cereal down with a little more force than necessary and turned to face him, arms crossed. "okay, what’s going on with you?”

"me?" he feigned innocence, eyebrows raising. "nothing, just making conversation."

your eyes narrowed, studying him. when he offered nothing else, you scoffed and turned back to the counter, muttering under your breath.

he’d never cared before. never commented on where you went or what you did. why was he suddenly so interested in you?

jeno used to treat you like background noise, a mild inconvenience at worst. now his gaze lingered longer whenever you walked into the room, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin prickle in ways you didn’t want to think about.

later that evening, you curled up on the couch with your laptop, half-heartedly scrolling through an assignment you had no intention of finishing. jeno sat across from you, phone in hand, occasionally flicking through something with the tv playing low in the background. it was peaceful enough… until he spoke.

"you know…" he stretched, shirt riding up just enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. "your boyfriend kinda sucks."

your fingers froze mid-typing.

"what?" you asked, tone clipped. you didn’t look up, but your jaw tightened on instinct.

he hummed, "if i were sneaking out every night, i’d hope it was worth it."

you shut the laptop with a snap. "why do you even care?"

jeno grinned, clearly satisfied that he’d gotten under your skin. "i don’t."

you stood abruptly, blood buzzing with irritation. "whatever. i’m going to bed."

he chuckled under his breath as you turned to leave, but the sound grated on you. it echoed in your head as you stalked halfway down the hall before…no. screw that.

you spun on your heel, storming back into the living room. "you don’t know shit," you bit out.

jeno glanced up, unconcerned. "about what?"

"me. my boyfriend."

that finally got his full attention. he set his phone down and tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "oh, you mean the boyfriend who keeps getting dumped and crawling back like a stray?"

your nostrils flared. "fuck you."

"i’m just saying—"

"no, you’re not ‘just saying’ anything," you cut him off, stepping closer. "you think you know everything about me just because we share a roof?"

"you’d be surprised," he shot back, annoyingly calm.

your fists clenched. "you don’t know what i need. so stop acting like you do."

for a split second, something flickered in his expression, gone too fast to name. then his usual smirk slid back into place.

"i don’t need to know what you need." he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "i already know what you want."

your breath hitched. you hated that, hated the way your pulse jumped at his words, at the confidence in his voice. what the hell did that even mean?

"you’re an asshole," you snapped. "i don’t owe you an explanation."

jeno nodded, like he agreed. "then why are you still standing here?"

your face burned with frustration, but you bit your tongue. there was nothing you could say that wouldn’t make this worse. so you did the next best thing, you turned on your heel and walked away, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

and yet, lying in bed later, the back of your mind replayed his words on a loop. you still felt like you’d lost.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

hours passed and you were still pissed.

your whole body ached with it, hot and restless, like something crawling under your skin. jeno’s words sunk in deep, wrapping around you like barbed wire, too sharp, too true.

‘your boyfriend kinda sucks’ his voice rang in your ears.

no, your boyfriend was nearly perfect. he had all the right looks, the right voice, the right everything and yet… somehow, even after months of trying, of letting him touch you, of trying to want it—

you never got turned on with him. not the way you were now after a simple argument with jeno.

your hand moved before you could think, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, finding that sticky warmth between your thighs. a shaky breath left you, head tipping back against the pillows. it wasn’t enough. god, it wasn’t nearly enough. you needed—fuck, you didn’t even know what you needed. just more. something to fill the ache, to drown out the way his voice echoed in your head. i don’t need to know what you need. i already know what you want.

stop.

you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to picture your boyfriend, to think about the way he kissed you, the way he whispered your name, the way he touched you.

but your body rejected it. the images blurred, twisted, morphed.

and suddenly it wasn’t his hands you were thinking about.

It was jeno’s slender fingers.

your fingertips grazed that sensitive spot, slick and throbbing, pulling a broken sound from your lips. your hips rolled up into your hand, chasing any semblance of relief. you let out a quiet, shuddering breath as your stomach clenched, your pulse kicking up as you fought it, fought him, fought the way his image took over.

but it was useless.

your body didn’t listen. it latched onto the memory of him. the way his pretty lips curled right before he was about to say something you knew would piss you off, the way his voice dipped when he was toying with you, the way his hands always fidgeted, tapping against his thigh, against his lips, always doing something.

your lips parted as your fingers moved faster, your other hand slid up your stomach, pushing up your shirt as your breath stuttered.

would he keep his rings on while touching you?

the thought sent a sharp pulse of arousal through you, your body tightening, the wetness between your thighs growing slicker.

you imagined his long fingers and the coolness of the rings against your skin. would he drag them over your stomach, trace your thighs, tease you with them first? or would he shove them inside right away?

you bit your lip, your fingers pressing down harder, teasing yourself the way he would, the way he might if he ever—

a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “jeno…”

outside your door, jeno’s world fucking stopped. his body was tight, his breath stuck in his throat as he pressed himself against the wood.

he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be standing outside your room, shouldn’t be looking through the small crack where the door hadn’t shut all the way.

but fuck.

fuck, you were so loud. did you even realize?

did you know how needy you sounded? the way your voice cracked, the way your breathing hitched, the way you whimpered when you…

jeno exhaled sharply, gripping the doorframe, trying to keep himself in check. but his mind was already too far gone. because if you were touching yourself to him, and if you were so desperate you couldn’t even keep quiet or make sure the the door was closed all the way… then maybe you wanted to get caught.

maybe you wanted him to see.

his breath came out slow and measured as he peeked through the crack, his body heating at the sight before him. the dim glow of your bedside lamp cast soft shadows over your skin, your legs spread wide, fingers buried deep inside yourself. the slick sounds of your movements, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name. fuck, it was too much.

he felt himself throbbing painfully against his sweats, already aching from just watching you. his cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

he pulled himself out, his fingers wrapping around the thick length, hot and pulsing in his palm. he let out a sharp breath as he started stroking himself, matching his pace to the rhythm of your fingers slipping in and out of your pretty cunt.

he wanted to be the one touching you.

he imagined it, his fingers stretching you open, pumping in and out, his thumb circling your clit until you were shaking, whimpering against his mouth. would you let him fuck you raw the first time? god, you’d feel so good around him, so tight, clenching down on him like you never wanted him to pull out. he let out a quiet groan, biting his lip to keep himself from making any noise, even though part of him wanted you to hear him, wanted you to know exactly what you were doing to him.

your moans were getting louder, your breaths coming faster, more frantic. you were close, he could tell, your body was begging for release, and he wished, more than anything, that he could be the one to push you over the edge.

he knew that no one else could make you feel like this. not even your boyfriend, the one you pretended was enough for you. that idiot had the privilege of touching you, of being inside you, and still you weren’t getting off on thoughts of him. no, it was jeno’s name spilling from your lips as you fucked yourself.

his hand tightened around his cock, his strokes quickening. "cum for me, baby," he whispered under his breath, his forehead pressing harder against the doorframe.

maybe you heard him, maybe you didn’t, but your moans pitched higher, your fingers moving faster, your body trembling on the other side of the door. fuck—you were close, so fucking close, and he was right there with you. his jaw went slack, his breaths coming in ragged pants as the pleasure slammed into him, hot and heavy. his cock pulsed, his body shaking, cum spilling over his fingers in thick streaks as he saw you falling apart in your bed at the same time.

his body tensed, every nerve sparking as he milked himself through the high, swallowing back the urge to moan out your name. he barely had the presence of mind to tuck himself back into his sweats before he started dripping onto the carpet. that would’ve been a dead giveaway. but even as he came down from it, the heat in his chest didn’t fade. because now he knew just how badly you wanted him.

and he wasn’t going to just let it go.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

so, he was back outside your room the following night.

your door was closed all the way this time. he swallowed hard, his pulse hammering as he curled his fingers around the doorknob, testing it. it turned just a fraction before stopping. it was locked. he expected this. he had the feeling you suspected he’d seen you or at least heard you last night because you were unusually fidgety around him earlier today.

he exhaled slowly, lowering himself down until his face was level with the keyhole, his breath shallow as he listened. the obscene sounds of your fingers working between your thighs were unmistakable, each wet stroke sending another pulse of heat straight to his cock. he knew you were thinking about him again. your boyfriend wasn’t here, who the fuck else would you be touching yourself to?

he let his hand trail down, palming himself over his sweats, but this time, it wasn’t enough. he needed more.

his fingers drifted down to his pocket, curling around the small, thin tool he’d stolen from mark’s junk drawer earlier. jeno wasn’t an idiot, he knew to be prepared this time. hearing wouldn’t do it for him, he needed to see you again.

he slid the tool into the keyhole, his other hand steadying the knob as he worked it. it wasn’t his first time picking a lock. he’d done it plenty of times as a teen, sneaking into forbidden rooms at school, usually to make out with random girls. but this was different. he was breaking into his stepsister’s room so he could watch her touch herself. his hands itched, his whole body thrumming with a dangerous kind of thrill.

the lock gave a quiet click and he held his breath trying to listen for any indication that you noticed. after he thought it was safe, he twisted the handle and pushed the door just enough to crack it open.

and fuck, what a sight it was.

you were sprawled on your bed, your legs were in a butterfly position this time, your skin glistening with sweat. your shirt was hiked up all the way giving him the perfect sight of your tits. your panties were pushed down completely and he could see the way your fingers disappeared inside you. his name started slipping from your lips again, breathy, ruined. he clenched his jaw, his cock started to throb painfully at the sight.

you were so fucking beautiful like this. needy, desperate, chasing a high that only he could truly give you.

he licked his lips, watching the way your back arched, your fingers curling inside you as you edged yourself closer. his own hand slipped into his sweats, wrapping around his length, stroking slow, lazy, savoring the moment. he should leave. should close the door and pretend this never happened. but instead, he kept watching, his lips parting in a silent exhale as he imagined once again what it would be like to replace your fingers with his own.

or better yet, his cock.

you had no idea he was here. no idea you were putting on a show just for him.

there was no way in hell he was going to stop now.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you’d been locking your door more often now. you weren’t sure why. it didn’t make sense, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. the feeling that you were being watched.

maybe it was the fact that you thought you heard a moan outside your door the other night. or maybe the fact that your panties had mysteriously gone missing from the laundry basket. and there was only one other person living with you at the moment. you tried to tell yourself it was paranoia. after all, why would jeno do something like that? he didn’t have fantasies like you, right?

still, something felt different when he was around. especially when you bumped into him in the kitchen or living room. the tension was so thick as if the space between you was charged, waiting for something, or someone, to cross the line.

you tried to distract yourself, flicking through jersey shore reruns with half your mind still on him. but as soon as you heard footsteps approaching, your pulse spiked. your body clearly not knowing the difference between riding a roller coaster, and your stepbrother entering the room.

you glanced up, trying to force a bored expression. the moment your eyes landed on him, however, everything in you froze. his damp hair stuck to his forehead, a towel draped loosely around his neck. his sweatpants hung low on his hips, his boxers peeking, and the way his white shirt clung to his chest made it feel like the room was closing in around you.

you swallowed hard.

he caught your gaze, and for a split second, it felt like he saw right through you. like he knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling. but he didn’t say anything. he just walked over, sitting close enough that his leg brushed against yours. the space between you was so small, but it felt like a chasm, a void that you couldn’t bridge. you couldn’t move. not when your body was so painfully aware of him.

“you like this trash?” his voice was casual, but his eyes were anything but. they were on you, studying you.

you blinked, the question throwing you off guard. you hadn’t even realized he was talking about the show until he nodded toward it. “uh... yeah. it’s... entertaining,” you stammered, your voice sounding foreign in your own ears. you wanted to say more, to defend it, but the words wouldn’t come. your mind was fixated on him.

you tried to focus on the screen, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. his towel slipping from his shoulders, water droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. you could feel that familiar flutter in your lower stomach.

your fingers twitched, desperate to do something, anything, to alleviate the tightness.

jeno tilted his head slightly, his lips pulling into that almost imperceptible smirk, the one that made you want to either scream or crawl into him.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft, but there was something dangerous underneath. “you look tense.”

you didn’t answer immediately. instead, you shifted uncomfortably, your pulse hammering in your ears. he didn’t push, but the way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he had you cornered.

suddenly, the doorbell rang, and you shot up from the couch like you’d been electrocuted. your pulse was still racing, your thoughts tangled in knots you didn’t want to acknowledge. this was good. maybe whoever was at the door would shake you out of this haze.

but the second you opened it, you almost wished you hadn’t.

your boyfriend…or ex? you didn’t even know anymore, stood there holding a single rose in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“happy valentine’s day,” he greeted, flashing that charming smile he knew melted you.

your eyes widened. you’d been so distracted you totally forgot the date. damn you, lee jeno.

“i’m sorry i didn’t call in advance,” he pushed the rose into your hand and leaned to kiss you “and i know we agreed to take a break… still, i couldn't just not come today…”

he lifted the bag on his other hand. “movie?”

you forced a smile, your stomach twisting guiltily for a second. even though your relationship was a bit unstable as of late, valentine’s wasn’t something you ever wanted to half-ass so it was a good thing you’d planned ahead.

you bought his gift the previous week, carefully wrapping the box yourself because you wanted it to feel special. a pair of shoes he’d been eyeing for months, a new band for his apple watch since his favorite one had broken recently, and a handwritten letter tucked inside, detailing how much you appreciated him, how much you loved him. You even spent extra time decorating the envelope, adding little doodles and stickers just to make him smile.

you should've felt some kind of relief, his presence should distract you from the wild thoughts swirling in your head. but as you stepped aside to let him in, that sense of relief never came.

because the moment you turned back, you remembered jeno was still there on the couch. you silently willed him with your mind to go to his room, maybe leave altogether.

but of course he didn’t.

“oh. hey, dude” your boyfriend said as he finally noticed him. “didn’t know your brother was here.”

you winced. that word. brother. your tongue itched to correct him, but what was the point? he knew you weren’t really siblings. he just chose to say it anyway.

jeno let the word hang in the air before he finally stood up, stretching his arms over his head before settling into a straighter posture. he never stood that straight, but he was making sure to show that he was at least two inches taller than your boyfriend. It was a subtle move, but you saw it for what it was. a challenge.

you almost scoffed at the sheer pettiness of it.

“ah, hello…” jeno drawled. “sorry, remind me of your name again?”

your boyfriend told him, his tone polite but slightly stiff.

“right,” jeno said, half-smiling. “didn’t know we’d be having visitors today…”

your boyfriend cleared his throat. “ah, that’s my bad. i didn’t tell her I was coming since I wanted to surprise her for Valentine’s”

“hm,” Jeno hummed. “well... as long as you two keep it in the living room, should be fine. gotta look out for my little sister while the parents are out, you know?”

you squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, inhaling slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. he never called you that. also, who did he think he was playing house police all of a sudden?

“sit down, babe,” you said, your tone so sweet it sounded forced.

jeno scoffed under his breath, soft enough that only you heard it.

you ignored it, settling onto the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen. your boyfriend sat beside you, oblivious, scrolling through movies, while you shoved a chip into your mouth just to distract your mind.

suddenly, you heard clattering from the kitchen followed by a curse.

“uh, y/n… can you come help me real quick?”

you squeezed your eyes shut.

“what did you break now?” you called, already exasperated.

"your mom’s china," he called back. "think i broke like two plates. maybe three. hard to say. pretty sure she’ll notice, though."

shit. you were on your feet before you could think, muttering a quick, “sorry, i’ll be right back,” as you hurried toward the kitchen.

the moment you stepped inside, irritation flared hotter in your chest.

“are you kidding me? what were you even doing near those? my mom explicitly said—” you voiced trailed off when you saw there was no broken china. no mess. nothing.

just jeno, standing there with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk so infuriating you wanted to slap it off his face.

your hands curled into fists. “what are you doing?”

“really?” he ignored your glare, tilting his head mockingly. “he brought snacks and a single rose?” he let out a dry chuckle. “it’s valentine’s day for god’s sake, he could’ve at least tried.”

“i like simple things,” you shot back. “i don’t need a big fucking production”

jeno took a step closer making your breath get stuck in your throat. he wasn’t touching you, wasn’t even crowding you, but fuck he might as well have been, with the way your body tensed.

his voice dropped lower. “are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

he clearly wanted to get a reaction out of you and you refused to give it to him.

his gaze flicked down to your lips, pursed at him, and yet so pretty. he could still remember them parting and gasping his name last night.

"bet it gets tiring to pretend so much” he leaned in slightly.

you took a sharp step back.

“just… get out of my business,” you snapped, breath uneven.

jeno’s lips curled. “sure thing.” his eyes glinted with dark amusement. “hope you have fun with mr. buzzkill.”

your jaw clenched as you spun on your heel, storming back to the living room. who the hell did he think he was? since when did he have an opinion on your love life? he’d never cared before, never questioned, never even acknowledged it. so why now?

he kept pushing, prodding, playing with you.

and the worst part was that you were letting him. you knew you should ignore him. his opinion didn’t matter anyways.

so why couldn’t you stop paying attention to him?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you decided to push jeno out of your mind, and what better way than by surrounding yourself with people you actually liked?

a pool party seemed like the perfect distraction. it was nothing too crazy, just a few close friends from college. the weather had been unusually nice all week, the kind of warmth that made everything feel a little hazy, the sun kissing your skin as you lay stretched out on a lounge chair, still damp from your swim. it was the perfect excuse to bask in the sun, let the tension ease from your body, and pretend jeno didn’t exist.

jenny, lying beside you on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and let out an exaggerated sigh. “by the way, where’s your hot brother?”

you sighed, not even bothering to open your eyes. “stop calling him that. people might actually think i'm related to that jerk.”

“honestly, though,” natty chimed in, rubbing tanning oil on her arms. “how have you not jumped his bones yet? he’s so fine.”

you scoffed, finally cracking an eye open to glare at her. “he’s really not all that. if you guys lived with him, you wouldn’t think like this.”

jenny turned onto her side, her smirk downright sinful. “girl, if i lived with him i'd let him do unspeakable things to me every night.”

you fingers tightened around your drink as something hot and unwanted curled low in your stomach. if only they knew the things you did thinking about him late at night.

belle made a face from where she sat at the edge of the pool. “you guys are gross.”

jenny just shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “why? they’re not even related.”

belle wrinkled her nose. “yes, but they live together. it’s still weird.”

jenny hummed, resting her chin on her shoulder as she eyed you knowingly. “whatever, i meant what i said.”

“does he have a girlfriend?” natty asked, stretching her legs out as she adjusted her sunglasses.

you shrugged, taking another sip of your piña colada. “i don’t know. i mean, he barely leaves the house. i doubt he has much of a social life… probably the most socially inept guy i’ve ever met.” the words left your mouth lazily, but the moment they did, a shadow loomed over you, blocking out the sun.

you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

you tilted your head back after a few seconds of silently cursing your big mouth. your heart did a million backflips as you locked eyes with jeno, who was now standing directly behind your chair. his head was tilted just slightly, a slow smirk playing at his lips.

you gulped slowly, and wished the chair would just swallow you whole. did he hear what you just said?

his gaze flickered over you, amused, but there was something heavier in the way his eyes traced over your bikini-clad figure. and then you realized he wasn’t in his usual hoodie and sweatpants. instead, he wore a fitted jean jacket over a graphic tee from a band you didn’t recognize, paired with tight black jeans. even his hair was styled, it looked like he got a fresh undercut, even added some designs on the side. he felt like an entirely different person. he looked good. too good.

“hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice deep.

your friends giggled, but you barely registered them because jeno’s attention was back on you in a second.

“does dad know you’re having a party?” he asked, his voice had a teasing lilt to it, but there was something slightly patronizing underneath.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s just a few people.” get off my ass, you almost added but bit your tongue.

his smirk didn’t falter. “mhm… hope so, ‘cause he can see everything through those.” he pointed toward the security cameras, and something about the way he said it made irritation prickle at your skin.

he had the audacity to call your boyfriend a buzzkill, yet here he was, trying to kill any potential fun you could have.

“anyway,” he continued, “this socially inept guy is heading out.”

you breath caught in your throat. so he did hear you.

his eyes flickered over your body once more, and before you could respond, his hand brushed over your shoulder in a touch so fleeting, so meaningless, it shouldn’t have made your entire body lock up the way it did.

“call me if there’s an emergency,” he said. “be good, yeah?”

the second he was out of earshot, the giggles started back up, hushed and scandalized. your skin still burned where his touch had ghosted over you, and you hated that you wanted to turn your head, watch him leave, memorize the way he looked just now.

you swallowed hard, pressing your cold glass against your lips and forcing yourself to pretend that none of it affected you.

after several minutes of listening to your friends gush about jeno, how good he looked, how he smelled like expensive cologne, blah blah blah, you decided you’d had enough. you pushed yourself up from the lounge chair and made your way inside with the excuse of refilling your drink.

as you passed through the living room, a flicker of movement outside caught your eye. jeno was still there, standing near the edge of the sidewalk. his fingers dipped into his pocket, retrieving something small, and curiosity got the better of you. you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding.

despite knowing better, you grabbed a lightweight cover-up dress from the hook by the door and slipped it over your shoulders before stepping outside. the afternoon air carried the scent of chlorine and the faintest trace of citrus from the trees lining the house.

“since when do you smoke?” you asked, approaching him cautiously.

jeno turned his head slightly. the corner of his lips curled in that maddening way of his. without breaking eye contact, he placed the cigarette between his lips, the unlit end resting against the soft curve of his mouth.

“i don’t,” he said dismissively but then, he struck a match against his finger and the tiny flame came to life. the sight of it held your attention for just a second too long. probably because you’d never seen anyone light a match like that, or the fact that he was gaslighting you so casually.

“i thought you said you were going to hang out with friends,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you watched the flame kiss the tip of the cigarette.

“i said i was going to hang out,” he corrected, taking a slow drag before exhaling it in your direction, the smoke curling between you. “i didn't say with friends.”

you barely resisted the urge to cough, your throat tightening at the thick scent of tobacco. before you could call him out on this, the low rumble of an engine broke through the silence.

a black jeep screeched to a stop at the foot of your driveway, tires skidding slightly against the pavement. you instinctively took a step back as the vehicle came to a jarring halt. the tinted window rolled down, revealing a girl with jet-black hair that framed her face in glossy waves. he lips, painted a deep cherry red, curved into a smile that was just a little too perfect.

“sorry, i’m late!” she said, her voice airy, with a sing-song quality that immediately set your teeth on edge “there was so much traffic.”

“sure you didn’t just get pulled over for reckless driving?” jeno chuckled before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.

“mo, silly!” she giggled, her voice turning annoyingly flirtatious as she leaned a little closer over the window. “did you doll up just for me?”

“sure,” jeno replied casually. you didn’t catch the way his eyes flicked to you for just a split second because you were busy trying to mask the seething annoyance that was threatening to show in your expression. you didn’t even know this girl, and yet, the way she was acting was irritating you deeply.

“let me drive,” jeno said, pulling the door open for her to step out. you noticed the way she purposely wobbled slightly to fall directly into his arms.

“careful,” he said, his voice deep and resonant as he steadied her, the sound of it sending a heavy vibration through your chest.

“if your wet blanket of a boyfriend shows up later,” he continued once inside the car, his words laced with a hint of condescension, “just try not to fuck around in the pool, okay? remember, someone’s always watching.” the way he said that left a strange, uneasy knot in your stomach, the implication of his words lingering far too long.

before you could even muster a response, he slammed the jeep into gear and drove off.

it was around 9 pm when you decided to call it a night. your boyfriend hadn’t even shown up. he claimed he had to help his dad with “stuff” but you hadn’t really paid attention to the details. you weren’t interested in hearing excuses anyway.

your friends pouted, complaining that you should let them stay and have a sleepover, but you weren’t in the mood. they only left after you promised to do it another time.

you wandered upstairs, feeling the fatigue from the evening settle in your bones. the water from the shower was almost too hot, but you welcomed the burn as it stripped the chlorine from your skin. you lingered under the steam, savoring the quiet of the house.

once you were done, you meticulously moisturized your skin with extra attention to the dryness that clung to your arms after the pool and the heat of the shower. you threw on your usual pjs, a loose tank top and shorts. you thought of the way jeno’s dark eyes followed you whenever you wore them.

you made your way to the living room and sank onto the couch to watch tv, hyper aware of the ticking sound of the clock. the hands crept closer to 11 p.m. and you found your thoughts drifting despite your best attempts to focus. jeno’s face floated into your mind, his dark eyes flickering with amusement whenever he saw you. you tried to push it away but your mind kept returning to him and that girl with jet-black hair.

the sting of your nails digging into the palsn of your hands is what snapped you out of it. the thought of him with her… doing what? it didn’t even matter. why should it matter?

you decided to go to bed after realizing it was stupid to wait for him to come back.

it was around 2 am when you were jerked awake by the sound of shuffling outside your door. you heard a giggle followed by a hushed voice right before your door creaked open, and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again.

"shit, wrong room," you heard jeno whisper, and your breath caught in your throat. you opened one eye just enough to see him standing in the doorway, the girl with jet-black hair practically draped around his neck.

she pulled him down into a kiss, and you watched, frozen, as they made out right there in front of your door. her soft moans echoed through the space along with the sounds of their hands fondling each other’s bodies.

they continued, oblivious to the fact that you were very much awake, until jeno finally pulled the door closed behind him, muffling the noises just enough for you to breathe again.

the anger hit you immediately, and the indignation that followed was almost comical in its intensity. with what face had he told you not to "mess around" at home because your parents were always watching, only to go and do this? right in front of your room, no less?

you heard the shuffle of movement in his room next door, and a chilling realization sank in.

they were about to have sex, and you’d hear every damn second of it.

it wasn’t like you’d never snuck your boyfriend in late at night before. But all you ever did was suck him off or let him finger you. you never actually had proper sex. not for lack of trying, but rather the issues you’d been having getting… aroused with him.

the moans started, soft at first, then louder. each sound felt like a needle, digging deeper into the pit of your stomach. you squeezed your eyes shut again, wishing, begging to be anywhere but within earshot of the noise that now felt like it was tearing your insides apart.

you could hear everything. the soft thuds of their clothes hitting the floor, the creak of the mattress as they fell onto it. jeno’s rough groans, the breathless whimpers he tried and failed to suppress. the wet, obscene sounds of him moving inside her. the desperate gasps, the frantic whisper of his name from her lips. their mouths meeting over and over again, the muffled, needy sounds of them colliding filling the space.

every movement, every noise, was painfully clear, as if you were right there in the room with them.

you wanted to disappear. crawl under your bed. evaporate into the walls. oh, the walls. the godforsaken, paper-thin walls that some sadistic architect clearly designed just to ruin your life.

you pressed a pillow over your head, begging for the sounds to stop, but it was useless. they only grew louder.

“jeno… i’m close,” she whimpered, voice high and shaking.

“cum for me…” he responded, breathless.

and suddenly, amidst the debauchery of sounds, you heard it.

your name.

spoken in a broken moan.

your breath stilled. for a second, you thought you must have imagined it, that your mind was playing a cruel trick on you. but then—

you heard it again. louder. needier.

jeno was calling your name as he came.

a paralyzing shock shot through you, pinning you to the mattress. your pulse hammering so hard you thought your heart might bruise your chest cavity. you stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as his moans settled over you like a suffocating weight.

silence followed, broken only by their uneven breaths. then you heard the rustle of sheets as they untangled from each other.

“can i stay the night?” the girl asked, her voice still heavy with satisfaction.

“no,” jeno said, voice oddly cold and detached. “my parents are gonna be here in the morning.”

that was a lie. your parents weren’t coming back until the following weekend.

you were still too shocked to move, too shaken to process what had just happened. but as you listened to her gather her things, to the sound of jeno walking her to the door without so much as an ounce of warmth in his tone, one thing became terrifyingly clear...

he hadn’t just used her. he’d been thinking about you while doing so.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you didn’t sleep. not for a single minute.

the shadows in your room shifted as the hours crawled by. it felt impossible to close your eyes without hearing it all over again. your name on his lips.

when your phone screen finally read 6:00 a.m, you gave up on sleep entirely, throwing off the sheets and slipping out of bed like a ghost.

you tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, fingers numb as you grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim. the cold water slid down your throat in greedy gulps, but it did nothing to cool yourself.

then, a breathless laugh tore from your lips, unhinged and bitter. the sheer absurdity of it all crashed into you at once, like a sick joke the universe decided to play on you. jeno had been inside another girl, and yet, it was your name that spilled out of his lips.

the laughter bubbled up harder. it must have been loud enough to wake him, because a few moments later, footsteps padded into the kitchen.

jeno stood in the doorway, eyes heavy with sleep, brows pinched together as he took in the sight of you, your back was turned to him, shoulders trembling with laughter that didn’t seem to belong to you.

“the hell is wrong with you?” his voice was groggy.

you stopped, forcing the manic grin off your face before turning slightly away, shielding yourself from his scrutiny. god, if he saw the way you were smiling right now, he really would think you lost your mind.

“are you high?” he asked, a little more forcefully this time.

you let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. i wish. maybe if you were high, this wouldn’t feel so real. maybe you wouldn’t still hear his voice in your head from the night before, broken and desperate, calling for you.

a shiver ran down your spine when you felt jeno move closer behind you. you could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, the faint smell of sleep and last night’s scent clinging to him. his hand clamped down on your shoulder, turning you around with an impatient tug.

“no, seriously.” his voice was lower now, forcing you to meet his gaze. “did you do drugs last night?”

your breath hitched when his chest brushed against yours, and that’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. the thin fabric of your tank top did nothing to hide the way your nipples hardened at the contact.

you saw the flicker in his expression, the brief second of realization when his gaze dropped.

“what do you care?” you shot back instead, tilting your chin up defiantly.

you liked the way his jaw ticked when you pushed him.

his grip on your chin was sudden, firm, tilting your face until your eyes locked with his. his fingers were rough and the touch sent something dark and electric crackling under your skin.

you ripped yourself from his grasp, grimacing. “don’t touch me. i know where that hand has been.”

jeno laughed, a rich sound that made your throat close.

“oh, so you heard.”

you scoffed. “of course i heard. it was impossible not to when you were being so loud.”

his smirk deepened. “then you know my struggle.”

he stepped forward, pressed you further against the counter until there was barely any air between your bodies. this was the closest you had ever been to him.

your heart slammed against your ribs, but you refused to shrink away. if anything, it only made you glare harder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

“i hear everything you do in your room too.”

he paused, letting his finger curl around a stray hair falling over your face.

“every night.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out except a sharp inhale.

his eyes fluttered across your features, lingering on your lips, still wet from the water you just drank.

“wh-what…”

“yeah.” his grin grew sharper, his perfect teeth peeking out to tug at his lower lip. “every time you sneak your dumbass boyfriend in.”

his fingers brushed against the counter beside you, caging you in completely.

“every time you touch yourself…”

you swallowed, looking between his neck and shoulder, unable to meet his dark eyes.

“and you do that a lot lately.”

you gulped to soothe your dry throat, wishing he couldn’t somehow smell how aroused you were getting. you hated the way your body reacted to him, how your thighs pressed together on instinct. he noticed. the bastard always noticed everything.

he was still pressed so close you could feel the steady rise and fall of his hard chest against yours, the heat of his skin bleeding into yours like fire licking at gasoline.

“i—” you started, but your voice cracked.

jeno tilted his head, “what?” his voice was a murmur meant for just the two of you. his lips curved, but the smile wasn’t kind, it was wicked. “got nothing to say now?”

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your stomach twisted into knots. “fuck you.”

his smile widened. “i mean, that’s what you always think about, isn’t it?” he murmured.

your breath caught in your throat. he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that you felt the ghost of them graze your skin.

“you touch yourself thinking about me.”

a wave of heat crawled up your neck. you shouldn’t be reacting this way. shouldn’t be giving yourself away this easily.

you inhaled sharply, gathering every ounce of strength left in your body before shoving at his chest, pushing him away. he let you, barely stumbling back.

“go to hell, jeno.”

you turned on your heel, ready to storm out, to get as far away from him as possible—

but you barely made it two steps before his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. he yanked you back against him, spinning you around so fast that you barely had time to register the shift before your back was against the counter again, his body crowding yours.

his grip tightened, but not enough to hurt just enough to hold you there.

"what are you doing?" you demanded, pressing a hand to his chest. "i have a boyfriend."

he laughed bitterly "oh, please. we both know he doesn’t even make you wet."

“how do you—?” you swallowed, barely able to get the words out.

the realization suddenly settled like lead in your gut. he read it. your blog. the one you used to vent frustrations you couldn’t say out loud, the one that held every unspoken insecurity, every late-night confession you never meant for anyone to see. every filthy thought about him.

and jeno of all people had gotten his hands on it. that’s why he’d been acting so strange lately.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, not pulling him closer, but gripping like you needed something to hold onto before you lost your mind.

his smirk deepened as he saw the expression of horror in your face.

“you should really clear your browser history,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “or, better yet…maybe don’t keep the tabs open on a laptop you asked me to fix.”

the bastard wasn’t even sorry for invading your privacy.

your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to school your expression, trying to make it seem like you weren't two seconds away from spiraling.

“i don’t—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

he leaned in, voice dipping lower. “oh don’t quit on me now. you had plenty to say in that little blog of yours.”

his fingers traced your jaw softly.

“especially about me.”

he grinned, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he watched your reaction unfold in real time. “what was it you said?” he pretended to think. “oh, right. he pisses me off more than anyone else, but i bet he fucks like a god.’”

you shoved him again but he barely stumbled, just let out a low chuckle like he was thrilled by your anger.

“what’s wrong?” he taunted. “embarrassed?”

“shut up.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be shy now. i read the whole thing, you’ve definitely thought about this exact moment before.”

you wanted to die. right there on the kitchen floor. just disintegrate and never have to endure the smug, self-satisfied look on his face ever again.

but worse than the embarrassment? worse than the rage twisting inside you like a coil ready to snap?

was the terrifying, undeniable truth.

he knew you wanted him.

jeno moved closer, and you instinctively backed into the counter, your hands gripping the cool edge.

his smirk was insufferable. giddy, almost.

“god, you should see your face right now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “all pink and flustered. just like i imagined.”

your eyes darted across his face in shock.

“oh yeah,” he continued, watching the realization flicker in your eyes. “you’re not the only one who’s fantasized about this, baby”

“i don’t fantasize,” you said quickly, hoping to salvage some dignity.

jeno just laughed. “save it.”

he reached up, tucking another stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way someone might handle something delicate, except the glint in his eye was anything but soft.

“i said i read everything,” he reminded you, voice dripping with satisfaction. “i even memorized that one post, the one where you talk about my fingers—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence.

bad move. because now his lips were pressed against your palm, his breath hot against your skin. and he didn’t pull away.

instead, his dark eyes locked onto yours making your pulse stutter. he reached up, prying your hand away from his mouth, but instead of letting it go, he brought it lower flat against his bare chest, over the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“i like knowing your secrets,” he murmured. “i like knowing what gets in that pretty little head of yours late at night.”

your stomach flipped.

“and you know what i like the most?” he dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “i like knowing that no matter how much you fight me on this,” he whispered, “you’ve already given yourself to me.”

his lips brushed from your ear down to the corner of your mouth, until finally, they met yours. you barely registered how easily your lips parted for him until his tongue slid in, claiming you. a groan slipped out before you could stop it.

you knew you should push him away. you should. but the thought barely even formed before it was gone, lost in the heat of his mouth.

"aren’t you gonna stop me?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to make you chase his lips.

you didn’t move, didn’t shove him away, didn’t say a damn thing.

his lips curled. "didn’t think so.”

then he kissed you harder, rougher. his fingers cradling your face while his other hand slid lower, gripping a handful of your ass. you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

his knee pressed between your legs, shifting just right, and you moaned. his lips curved against yours. "there’s my good girl."

heat flared up your spine, equal parts humiliation and arousal. some semblance of reason came over you and you pushed at his chest, but he caught your wrist, pinning it against the counter.

"you wrote about how bad you wanted me to take you right here in this kitchen," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "want me to remind you?"

"shut up," you groaned, twisting your wrist free and shoving at him properly this time.

he didn’t budge. he only laughed, nipping at your lower lip before angling your face up, kissing you deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world. his hand slid from your ass to your thigh, hiking it higher around his hip.

the new angle made you feel him, every inch of his hard length pressing right against your core, and you gasped. he thrust against you and the groan he let out sent a pulse of heat straight to your stomach.

"fuck," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, his hips rolling again. "you feel that?"

your fingers curled into his shirt, whimpers spilling out of you as he kept humping you.

jeno’s grip tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked against you, his breath hot against your lips. “look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something darker. “clinging to me like this when you were just pretending to hate me a few minutes ago.”

you opened your mouth to argue, to deny, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as his hands slid under your tank top, fingers tracing lazy patterns up your ribs until they found your perked nipple. his knee pressed more insistently between your legs.

“jen—”

“shh.” he breathed against your lips. “you don’t have to say anything. your body’s already telling me everything i need to know.”

the way his lips ghosted over your jaw, then down your throat, made your breath hitch. you felt like you were drowning in the way he touched you, just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to give you what you really wanted.

“you’ve thought about this,” he mused, voice laced with satisfaction as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. “haven’t you? late at night, when you’re all alone…”

your nails dug into his shoulders as he ground against you again, harder this time. he was right. and that infuriated you.

“jeno,” you hissed, half warning, half plea.

“say it,” he murmured against your skin, hands slipping lower. “say you want me.”

you couldn’t do that. you still wanted to cling to some semblance of dignity. but then his fingers slipped inside your shorts, and the illusion that you ever stood a chance shattered.

your gasp turned into a strangled moan as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds, tracing slow circles, teasing you with featherlight strokes that had you melting against him. his breath was hot against your temple.

“if you don’t want this,” he murmured, “then maybe we should stop.”

and just like that, he started to retreat, his touch vanishing like a cruel tease.

“no,” you choked out, your hand gripping his wrist before he could pull away completely. “don’t stop… please.”

he tilted his head, savoring every ounce of your desperation. “you sure?” he mused, feigning innocence even as his lips, swollen and slick, curled into something devilish. “because if you think this is wrong, we really should stop.”

the bastard was toying with you, and worst of all, you found it maddeningly hot.

your nails dug into his arm, your body thrumming with frustration and need. “jeno,” you warned, voice dangerously low. “if you don’t touch me right now, i’ll go upstairs and do it myself.”

you saw the moment his pupils dilated, a dark, almost feral hunger flashing in his eyes.

“oh, princess,” he crooned, his hand slipping back into your shorts in an instant, fingers resuming their torment with renewed urgency. “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

but instead of touching you like you needed, he yanked your shorts down, your panties dragging along with them in one swift motion. before you could form a single word, he hoisted you onto the counter with ease, the hard surface pressing into the backs of your thighs. your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip tightened, keeping you open for him.

and then he dropped to his knees.

your stomach plummeted, anticipation coiling so tightly inside you that you felt dizzy. he looked up at you from beneath his thick lashes, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with hunger. his hands dragged slowly up the inside of your thighs, spreading them further. his tongue darted out, wetting his lips like he was about to devour the best meal ever.

your walls clenched around nothing.

“jeno—” his name came out in a broken gasp.

“you’re shaking,” his breath ghosted over your core, making you jolt, making you ache. "what’s wrong, baby? nervous?"

the way his voice curled around the word baby, sent a fresh wave of heat straight between your legs. but you didn’t get the chance to answer.

because then he dove between your thighs.

the first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, hands flying to his hair as your head snapped back against the cabinets. the heat of his mouth had your body jerking before you could stop yourself, pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

his hands flexed against your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you still as he licked deep into you. and when he groaned you nearly lost it. the vibration shot straight through you, your stomach clenching, your thighs twitching against his grip.

“jeno—” his name was barely a breath, a desperate sound that made him hum against you, pleased. he pulled back just enough for his lips to brush over your skin.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined” he rasped.

and then he was back on you, tongue working faster, fingers digging into your thighs like he needed this, like he was getting off on the way you gasped, the way your body trembled under his mouth.

he wasn’t just eating you out. he was devouring you.

his tongue moved in slow strokes, drawing out every whimper that spilled from your lips. you tugged at his hair, grinding down harder, but he just chuckled against you. cocky bastard.

“needy, huh?” he murmured between licks. “thought you could handle it.”

you barely registered his words, too caught up in the way he worked you open. but then he pulled away, making you gasp at the loss.

“jeno—” you started to protest, but he was already grabbing you by the waist.

“quit whining,” he smirked, hoisting you up easily. you yelped, legs locking around his hips as he strode toward the stairs. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

your back hit the mattress a second later. you barely caught your breath before he tugged his pants down, the outline of his dick straining against his boxers.

jeno climbed onto the bed, gaze flicking over you with heat. you expected him to take you right then but he leaned back instead, hands behind his head.

“ride my face,” he said.

you froze, thinking he was joking for a second, but then you saw his his eyes and realized he was being completely serious. panic came over you, you’d never done this before, your boyfriend had never even eaten your out before, only fingered you. this was way more than that though.

“jeno—”

he raised a brow. “what, shy now?” his hands shot out, dragging you toward him. “c’mon, don’t start getting all sweet on me now.”

he positioned you right above his face. you swallowed, “jeno… i-i don’t know—“

“don’t worry baby, trust me”

and then he was spreading your legs further apart so you sank on his face slowly. his nose nuzzled between your folds first, the sharp line of it pushing against your core and making a guttural moan escape you.

his tongue followed, licking up and down, and prodding your entrance with insistence.

“oh, fuck—me” you whimpered, his hands on your hips guided you to press even harder against his face and even in your pleasure you worried he would drown in your cunt.

but when you looked down, there was nothing but pure bliss on his face, his eyes rolling back and his brows furrowed as he lapped relentlessly. it looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

as your orgasm approached again, you couldn’t help but roll your hips against his face. the movement made his nose press further as his tongue continued licking long greedy strips against your clit.

“jeno—i...i’m—“ you moaned,

and your orgasm crashed over you with such a violent force it made you lean forward barely catching yourself with your arms before you could actually suffocate the boy under you.

you crawled down his body, your breath hitching as you took in the sight of his face glistening with your juices. his tongue swept out as he licked up every trace, dark eyes fixed on you.

his hands remained anchored on your hips, fingers flexing just enough to press you down against his body. you could feel him hard and burning through the thin fabric of his sweats. the instinctive grind of your hips had him exhaling a low chuckle. you wanted this, he wanted this, but something held you back. if you crossed this line… would you really be able to turn back?

you didn’t have time to find out because the sound of the doorbell ringing snapped you both out of your daze.

jeno blinked, looking toward the bedroom door. “seriously...?”

“shit—” you scrambled off him, tripping over your own limbs in the process.

“i’ll get it,” he offered, starting to sit up.

“no!” you shoved at his chest, pushing him back down. “your face, jeno— it’s covered in my—just—go wash it off!”

he grinned lazily. “didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

“not the time!” you hissed, picking up your discarded clothes and putting them on.

jeno started, “i read somewhere that cum is really good for your skin—”

you didn’t dignify that with a response, slamming the door shut on your way out. your reflection in the living room mirror was a disaster: hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen, fresh marks blooming along your neck. you tugged your collar up and plastered on what you hoped passed for a normal expression before opening the door.

and promptly felt the ground vanish under you when you saw who was standing outside.

“hey, beautiful” your boyfriend said.

your mouth went dry. “oh. wow. hi—”

he held up a bouquet. “i realized we didn’t really do anything special for valentine’s, and you were so thoughtful with your gifts…” his other hand revealed a small box.

your heart twisted at the sight.

“figured you deserved something nice after everything you’ve done for me.” he opened the box to reveal a delicate necklace, your initial glinting in tiny diamonds. “also, i wanna take you out today”

you swallowed. “it’s... beautiful, thanks.”

“here.” he stepped forward, gently brushing your hair aside to fasten it around your neck. his fingers grazed your skin then stopped.

“you’ve got a mark,” he said, frowning. his thumb skimmed over the hickey, sending your pulse into overdrive.

“mosquito bite,” you blurted.

he raised an eyebrow. “looks... aggressive.”

“it was a big mosquito,” you managed with a nervous laugh.

“massive, actually” came jeno’s voice.

you turned just as he was descending the stairs, towel-drying his face and now dressed in…god help you, only sweatpants. fresh hickeys also peppered his collarbone and chest.

your boyfriend’s smile tightened. “hi, man. hope i didn’t wake you.”

jeno shrugged. “nah, i was just eating a delicious meal.” his gaze flicked to you with something too close to amusement.

you fought the urge to kick him in the balls. “so! you said something about... going out?” you blurted, trying to shift the topic.

“uh... yeah. a new amusement park opened up nearby. thought we could check it out.”

“sounds amazing! i’m in!” anything to get out of this situation.

“i’ll just… shower real quick,” you said, stepping back.

“i’ll put the flowers in water,” your boyfriend offered, heading toward the kitchen.

as soon as he disappeared, you turned to jeno and hissed, “are you insane?”

he chuckled. “i didn’t even do anything.”

“you’re standing there shirtless covered in hickeys i don’t even remember giving you!” you whisper-yelled.

“yeah you went a little crazy, who knew you wanted me this bad?”

you shot him a glare. “this isn’t funny.”

“it’s a little funny.”

you let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing your face. “god, you’re impossible.”

jeno leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of him. “wouldn’t be nearly as fun if i wasn’t.”

you shook your head and darted upstairs, pulse still racing. what the hell was your life right now?

you gave yourself only twenty minutes to get ready, worried about leaving your boyfriend alone with jeno for too long. god only knew what kind of things jeno might say if left unchecked. you quickly threw on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a knitted sweater, keeping it simple with just a swipe of lip gloss and a touch of mascara.

when you came downstairs, you found them sitting at opposite ends of the couch. jeno was scrolling through his phone, legs spread out, a bored look on his face. your boyfriend was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, glancing around as if searching for a conversation topic that didn’t involve glaring across the room.

“i’m ready,” you announced, trying to break the awkward tension hanging in the air. both boys looked up.

you noticed Jeno had changed into fitted jeans and a black t-shirt.

“i hope you don’t mind,” your boyfriend said, his smile too stiff to be genuine, “but i invited jeno to come with us.”

“what?” your head snapped to jeno, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

“yeah,” jeno said, casually running a hand through his hair. “a few of my friends are heading there too, so i figured we could all hang out.”

“oh… how nice,” you muttered through clenched teeth. jeno just smirked, waiting for you to snap in front of your boyfriend but you held back, drawing in a calming breath and turning toward the door instead.

outside, your boyfriend wiped a tiny smudge off the driver’s side door of his car with meticulous care. jeno scoffed audibly.

your boyfriend paused, glancing over his shoulder. “jeno, do you have a car... or do you wanna ride with us?”

“my car’s in the shop,” Jeno replied without missing a beat.

“oh yeah? what do you drive?”

“a ’69 mustang fastback,” jeno said smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

your boyfriend’s lips parted slightly. you knew he was impressed—he loved cars—and even if he tried to play it cool, the way his eyes widened gave him away. “that’s a classic. was it your dad’s?”

“nope.” jeno grinned. “saved up since high school and bought it myself at the barrett-jackson auction last year.”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows shot up. “that’s... actually really impressive.”

yeah, jeno thought, satisfaction bubbling in his chest. he lived for moments like this, when people looked at him like he was something special. he just couldn’t let it slip that his dad had footed most of the bill for the car’s custom work. it wasn’t like he asked for that help, but there was no way he was turning it down either. and he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit that in front of your boyfriend. not when the guy was looking at him with something close to respect. honestly, jeno kind of liked having that edge over him.

you could practically see the mental competition unfolding in front of you. jeno stood there like he’d just scored a point, while your boyfriend’s jaw tightened, clearly thinking of how to reclaim the upper hand.

“are you guys done with the dick-measuring contest, or should i grab a ruler?” you asked, arms crossed.

jeno laughed under his breath. your boyfriend glanced away, muttering, “yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

the ride was somehow worse than you expected. normally, when you’d ride with your boyfriend, the car was filled with pleasant conversation. he’d ask about your day and tell you about his… but now, with jeno in the backseat, the air felt suffocating. not even the faint music playing on the radio could ease your discomfort.

“were you sleeping before i came?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

you tensed. sleeping? far from it. you’d most definitely come before he arrived, and now your face burned with the memory. you shot a quick look over your shoulder at jeno, hoping to gauge if he was going to say something incriminating. he was scrolling through his phone, but the corner of his mouth curled up in that stupid smirk of his.

“uh… no,” you said, clearing your throat. “i couldn’t sleep very well last night, so i just had an early breakfast.”

“ah,” your boyfriend hummed. “and your parents are back sunday, right?”

“yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in subject.

the silence that followed wasn’t comfortable. your boyfriend tapped the steering wheel rhythmically, occasionally glancing at you like he was expecting conversation but you were too busy trying not to spontaneously combust from how tense everything felt.

he reached over and turned on the car’s bluetooth. “let’s put on some music,” he muttered, scrolling through his playlist. he settled on a song, and you relaxed until you recognized the beat a split second before the lyrics started.

"thoughts of you keep me up at night..."

heat immediately started creeping up your neck. of all the songs... and of all the lyrics to play right now.

"i think about all of the ways you turn me on... and my bed gets lonely whenever you’re gone..."

you stiffened, eyes wide as you stared out the window. you could feel jeno’s gaze burning into the side of your face, and when you dared to glance back, you saw his eyes fixed on you, an eyebrow raised like this was the funniest thing to ever happen. your boyfriend, oblivious to the lyrical implications, simply tapped along to the beat.

you reached for the phone. “let’s put something else��”

“what? you don’t like this song?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you with a smile.

“it’s… just—” you floundered. jeno chuckled under his breath.

“leave it,” Jeno said. “I think it’s pretty relatable.”

your boyfriend shot him a look through the rearview mirror probably wondering what he meant.

you squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the ground to swallow you whole. why did the drive feel like it was taking forever?

when you arrived at the amusement park, you were pleasantly surprised to see jenny and natty waiting near the entrance, drinks already in hand.

“we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing, by the way” jenny grinned, looping her arm through yours when you reached her.

“yeah,” Natty added, slipping in on your other side. “we told him he was an idiot for not doing something nice for you on saturday, so this is his redemption, and we’re here as the judges.”

the revelation should’ve surprised you—maybe even disappointed you—but it didn’t. things with your boyfriend had been...off lately. neither of you was really trying, and you couldn’t blame him for that when you weren’t putting in much effort yourself.

still, you plastered on a smile. this is supposed to be fun, you reminded yourself. and it was, you went on nearly every ride. your boyfriend, though, wasn’t a big fan of fast rides due to his motion sickness, and you didn’t miss the way jeno scoffed every time he turned down your suggestions to ride together.

you were heading toward the food stalls when something caught your eye. “ooh! let’s do that one!” you pointed to a shabby building draped in fake cobwebs and flickering lights. a crooked sign above the entrance read bloody encounter in dripping red letters.

jenny made a face. “why would you willingly do that to yourself?”

“come on,” you urged, tugging her arm. “it’ll be fun! i saw a video of it on instagram! it looks insane.”

“that’s exactly why i don’t want to go,” jenny shot back, glancing warily at the entrance.

natty, wide-eyed, whispered, “have you seen that movie where a group of friends goes into a haunted house, and there’s an actual killer inside?”

“that’s literally a movie,” you said, but your attempt at sounding confident fell flat when natty added, “it was based on real-life events.”

you rolled your eyes but glanced over your shoulder at your boyfriend trailing behind. he looked at the ride and grimaced.

“eh... i don’t know, babe,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “you know i hate this kind of stuff.”

you visibly deflated and before you could respond, another voice cut in. “i’ll go with you,” jeno said, stepping forward, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“I—” you started to object, nerves twisting in your stomach. jeno? alone? no way. that felt like walking into a trap. “weren’t you going to meet up with your friends?” you tried, hoping to backpedal.

“they texted that they got a flat on the way here, so it’ll be a while before they arrive” he shrugged.

“you two have fun,” jenny said, already pulling natty away. “we’ll grab food in the meantime.” natty threw you a look that screamed good luck before disappearing into the crowd.

your boyfriend lingered. “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asked, eyes darting to jeno, whose expression remained unreadable except for the subtle roll of his eyes.

“yeah,” you lied, forcing a reassuring smile. “i’ll be fine. see you in a bit.”

stepping through the entrance, you were swallowed by darkness. the air was thick with the artificial scent of fog machines and that weird plasticky smell of cheap props. distorted laughter and screams echoed through the narrow halls, looping over speakers that crackled with static.

beside you, jeno looked about as thrilled as someone waiting in line at the dmv. he glanced around, gaze skimming lazily over the walls. "spooky," he deadpanned.

"wow, you're really committing to the whole fun-hater thing," you shot back, glancing over your shoulder. you knew something was about to jump out, it was just a matter of when. "if you hate this so much, why'd you come?"

“figured your dumbass boyfriend wouldn’t,” he shrugged, mouth quirking into something between a smirk and a sneer. "someone had to make sure you didn’t cry."

“excuse me—”

BANG!

a hidden panel to your left slammed open and a clown with cracked white paint on its face and red bulging eyes lunged out, blaring a horn right in your face. your soul practically left your body as you screamed and instinctively grabbed onto the nearest thing which, unfortunately, was jeno.

he didn’t even flinch, his arm simply went around your shoulders, comforting you even as your heart tried to beat out of your chest. you looked up, breath catching when you met his gaze. his eyes flicked down to where you were clutching his hoodie before lifting back to yours.

you pushed away, but his hand didn’t fall away immediately. it trailed from your shoulder down to the small of your back, you felt his warmth seep through the fabric of your sweater.

"so," he drawled, "should i hold your hand for the rest of this?"

“i swear to god…”

“—because i don’t mind”

“keep talking and i’ll feed you to the next clown,” you shot back.

he snorted. "like you’d make it through this without me."

you flipped him off without looking back, which earned a low chuckle in response. you stalked ahead, determined to focus on not tripping over the uneven floor, but his footsteps stayed close behind. annoyingly close.

the mirror maze was where things went downhill. everywhere you turned, warped reflections of you and jeno stretched and twisted in the glass. dark shapes flickered just out of sight, and the speakers just made everything worse by echoing whispers that felt like they were breathing down your neck.

your reflection twisted, making your head look three times too big. jeno snorted. “look, they got your good side.”

“bite me” you said, peering around a corner. your reflection multiplied into a dozen versions of you, all looking equally pissed.

“tempting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

jeno’s fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you in the opposite direction.

“it’s this way,” he said.

“how would you know?”

“we’ve been stuck in here for like ten minutes,” he cut in. “you’re clearly not the best guide.”

you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

jeno pointed at a door partially concealed by a tangle of fake cobwebs. “that’s gotta be the exit.”

“that looks deliberately hidden,” you said, eyeing it warily. something about it seemed off.

“well,” he shrugged, “either we try that or we keep wandering in circles. your call.”

fine. you followed him, trusting—against better judgment—that his instincts were better than yours.

they weren’t.

the door creaked open to reveal a forgotten section of the attraction with dust-covered boxes, broken props tossed in corners, and walls lined with peeling fake blood. the air smelled like damp cardboard and stale fog machine fluid.

“...okay,” he said, unfazed. “so not the exit.”

“wow. color me shocked.”

he shot you a look. “didn’t hear you coming up with better options.”

you rolled your eyes and turned back to the door. “whatever, let’s just—”

it didn’t budge. frowning, you tried again, putting more weight into it. nothing.

your pulse quickened. “uh... jeno?”

“what?”

“the door’s stuck.”

“just turn the handle—”

“i am!” frustration and panic crept into your voice. “i know how to open a damn door!”

“move.” he gently nudged you aside, grabbing the handle. he twisted while shoving his shoulder into it but the door held firm “...shit.”

your stomach dropped. this wasn’t funny anymore. “no, no, no… this can’t be happening.” you raked a hand through your hair.

jeno stepped back, scanning the room like there might be another way out. “it’s gotta be part of the attraction… like some escape room or…”

“yeah? you really think they’d make a whole escape room and hide it behind a side door that was clearly not supposed to be opened?” your voice cracked, breath coming quicker now.

he glanced at you, expression shifting. “hey.” his tone dropped, calmer. “don’t freak out.”

easy for him to say. your brain was already spiraling. you were locked in some creepy back room of a haunted house... with him.

you leaned back against the door, shutting your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“do you have your phone?” you asked, voice tight as you pushed away from the door and walked toward him.

he patted his back pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it up before showing the dead screen. “no battery.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “of course.”

“the staff will probably notice we never came out,” he said, glancing around the dimly lit room. “they’ll be looking for us soon.”

“i didn’t even see anyone else besides that clown,” you muttered. “this is what i get for coming in here with you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” his voice dropped a note lower, and when you looked up, he’d stepped closer. your back nearly hit the door again, tension sparking between you like static electricity.

“you’ve clearly upset some kind of energy around me, and that’s why all these things keep happening,” you snapped, trying to push away the sudden awareness of how little space there was between your bodies.

“are you being for real right now?” he chucked bitterly, dark eyes flicking to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. “you’ve been writing dirty fantasies about me for months but i’m the one somehow upsetting your energy?”

heat surged to your face, both from anger and embarrassment. “and that’s all they were! fantasies!” you shot back, voice rising. “i never wanted you to read those.” your breath came quicker. his proximity was messing with your ability to think straight.

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. the playful glint in his eyes burned away, leaving something far more dangerous. “you say that like you didn’t mean every goddamn word.”

your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "is now really the time for this?"

“how come my presence didn't bother you when my mouth was between your legs?” he growled.

your hand shot up, ready to shove him away but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head. your heart kicked into overdrive.

“not here,” you breathed, but it was weak, barely convincing.

“nobody’s around,” he rasped, chest flush against yours. “and you don’t really want me to stop.”

his lips dragged along your neck greedily, teeth scraping your skin before his tongue soothed the sting. your knees nearly gave out.

“jeno—fuck—we can’t,” you gasped, even as your hips arched toward him, desperate for friction.

“i’m sure i can make you cum before anyone shows up,” he promised, voice like rough velvet.

then he grabbed your thigh, hauling your leg around his waist and shoving his hips against you. the contact had you gasping, heat blooming everywhere at once. his grip was bruising, grounding you and shattering you all at once.

“you have no idea—” his breath was ragged, words spoken between gritted teeth, “—how fucking hard it was to sit back and watch you with him. i wanted to drag you away and remind you exactly whose tongue had you shaking mere hours ago.”

that snapped something inside you. your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him in as his mouth crashed against yours. his hips rolled, grinding against you in rough motions that stole every coherent thought from your brain.

you should stop. you should care about where you were or the fact that your boyfriend was waiting for you outside, but the way he was touching you, kissing you, claiming you.

he pressed you hard against the wall, hands pulling at your sweater with urgency. the second it was off, his mouth was on you, sucking against the lace of your bra. his groan was barely controlled.

“fuck, so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words shaky. his gaze was hungry as he tore your bra off, his lips tracing the curve of your chest.

his mouth found your nipple, sucking hard. your back arched and a gasp slipped from you.

“god, perfect tits,” he growled. his hands were shaking now, and there was no control in his voice, just raw need.

without warning, he pulled your pants off, almost knocking you off balance. you barely steadied yourself before he turned you around, shoving you forward. Your hands gripped the wall for support, and you felt him push his erection against your ass.

“fuck, gonna make you feel so good. better than your fingers ever could. let me fill you up” he groaned, his voice desperate. you could feel how hard he was even through his jeans.

you bit your lip, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much you wanted him. before you could look back, his hand was on your jaw, turning your head to face forward.

“be good and i’ll let you look,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear.

he pulled your panties aside, the fabric stretching tight against you. it felt like it might snap any second, but before the thought could even settle, his finger was buried in your folds. the cool touch of his rings against your heat made you gasp, your body shuddering in response.

“oh god,” you mewled.

if your mind was clear enough to process anything, you’d laugh at how absurd this was. your fantasies, the ones you’d written about in your blog, were unfolding before your eyes, all within a day.

“barely even touched you, and you’re already dripping like this?” his voice was laced with amusement, though there was a growl beneath it.

“jeno, please don’t… tease me.” the words barely left your mouth, a plea you couldn’t hold back.

he smirked, his thumb brushing over your sensitive spot as he circled your clit. “i thought you were the one who didn’t want to do this here,” he taunted.

“please,” you whispered, barely able to form a coherent thought.

he chuckled, drawing another slow circle, teasing you, making you ache. every motion of his finger made your body respond, pushing your hips back instinctively. “so eager,” he muttered, his mouth hot against your shoulder.

his finger plunged inside you, and before you could adjust, another joined. he pulled them out slowly, spreading the slickness of your folds across your skin, making you squirm in desperation. you felt the pressure of his cock growing against your ass, and you clenched around his fingers, your walls yearning for more.

“ready for me, baby?” his voice was low, dark, almost a growl, and you nodded, mind too fogged to say anything.

he spread your legs wider, forcing you open for him, giving him better access. you felt the tip of his cock swipe against your folds, teasing the entrance, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance down. his pre-cum smeared against you, mixing with your slickness.

“when i’m done with you, you won’t even remember who came before me…” his words were gruff, hot against your hair.

and then, just like that, he thrust inside. you heard him inhale sharply as your gummy walls welcomed him, stretching around him, pulling him deeper. he felt thick, too thick, and you weren’t sure if he was all the way in, but the fullness was overwhelming. his body pushed against yours, your legs trembling under the weight of him, but he wasn’t stopping.

one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as jeno continued to push deeper. your moans grew louder, and with each thrust your inhibition was slipping away. it felt too good to care about being caught, to think about anything else but the feeling of being so full.

but then, just as you were losing yourself completely, the sound of footsteps and distant voices jerked you back to reality.

“guys, they probably already came out,” you recognized jenny’s voice, and you froze.

“y/n isn’t picking up her phone,” your boyfriend’s voice followed, too close, so close you could practically feel him in the room.

you pushed weakly against jeno, trying to make him pull out, but he wasn’t paying attention. instead, he thrust into you again, harder, his cock pressing into you so deeply that you bit your tongue to hold back the moan threatening to slip out.

“that’s cause i have it,” natty’s voice rang out, innocently. “she gave it to me when she went on the roller coaster earlier.”

jeno’s hand moved to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds you couldn’t stop from escaping. he continued to pound into you, relentless, while pulling you flush against his chest, his pace steady but punishing. panic clawed at your throat as your breath quickened.

“when were you gonna tell us that...?” jenny’s voice sounded sharp, you could even picture the scowl that came with it.

“did you try jeno?” your boyfriend asked, the concern in his tone making the situation even more unbearable.

“we don’t have his phone number,” natty replied casually.

“i do,” Jenny said, her voice almost sheepish.

jeno’s hips stuttered for a brief moment, the pace slowing as he briefly pulled away from you. you thought he was stopping but before you could even react, he spun you around, forcing you to face him. his forehead glistened with sweat, his lips swollen from how hard he’d bitten them, his breath labored.

“what? since when?” natty asked, her voice sounding confused but amused.

“i stole it from y/n’s phone,” jenny muttered quickly. “don’t tell her, though.”

before you could even process her words, jeno thrust back into you, pressing you into the wall with each brutal stroke. the wall rattled violently with every movement and you could barely form the words to warn him.

“j-jeno, stop… they… they’re gonna hear us,” you gasped. your whole body felt like it was being torn apart in the best way, but the fear of being caught made it impossible to enjoy it fully.

“let them,” he growled against your ear, his grip tightening on your waist. “let your boyfriend know i’m the only one who can make you cum.”

you couldn’t help the loud whimper that came out when he said that.

“did you guys hear that?” your boyfriend’s voice rang out, sharp with suspicion.

your eyes widened in sheer panic, your body stiffening around jeno. but instead of stopping, he only smirked, still buried deep inside you. the bastard was enjoying this.

his hand trailed down, fingers finding your clit, and the second he started rubbing tight circles, your head lolled back involuntarily. another strangled whimper escaped before you could stop it. the feeling of his fingers working you over while he continued driving into you relentlessly had you seeing white.

“what?” natty asked, her voice tinged with unease.

jeno didn’t stop, his movements staying controlled except for the way his breath hitched when your walls fluttered around him. his lips parted slightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought to keep from moaning out loud.

“it sounded like… a person?” your boyfriend said, his voice closer now.

your head snapped up in terror, eyes locking onto jeno’s, silently pleading with him to stop. but he wasn’t even looking at you. his teeth were digging into his lower lip, dark eyes fixed on where your bodies were joined, watching the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“it’s probably just the scary audio replaying on the speakers,” Jenny suggested.

“and that rattling sound?”

jeno’s eyes flicked up at that, finally registering your panic. without pulling out, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you off the wall effortlessly, carrying you a few paces away before pressing you down onto an old, dusty table.

before you could even think to protest, he shoved your knees up and entered you again, deeper this time, making you arch off the surface with a muffled cry. your teeth sank into the flesh of your hand to keep the noises in.

the table creaked with each sharp thrust, dust kicking up into the air around you. tears pricked your eyes, whether from pleasure, mortification, or both, you weren’t sure.

“maybe rats or something,” jenny suggested, her voice fading as she moved further away. “who cares? let’s just go. they’re not here anymore.”

the moment the voices started retreating, jeno leaned over you.

“we almost got caught,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe “...and you’re still fucking dripping around me.”

you didn't even get to feel embarrassed by his words because soon he was already moving again harder, deeper, like he needed to make up for the interruption. the table kept creaking under the force of his thrusts, and your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto.

when you looked down, your breath hitched at the sight of his cock drilling into you over and over, slick coating both of you in a wet mess. you were mesmerized by the sharpness of his hip bones, the way his veins bulged with every flex of his muscles.

you wanted to touch. you needed to.

your fingers twitched with the urge. why is he still so covered? you’d seen him shirtless before, had spent far too long secretly admiring the cut of his abs, but seeing and feeling were entirely different. you wanted to feel them ripple under your hands, to feel the heat of his skin against your palms.

driven by that need, you pushed up on your elbows, reaching for the hem of his shirt. he didn’t stop you, just watched with dark eyes and parted lips as you dragged the fabric up, exposing smooth skin and the taut muscles beneath. your fingers splayed over his stomach, feeling how hard he was clenching, how his body responded to you.

jeno tensed the moment your hands made contact with his skin, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth. his hips faltered for a second before slamming back into you with even more force. your breath stuttered, and when you looked up, his eyes were already locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with something wild.

suddenly, he leaned forward and his lips crashed into yours, all-consuming. a deep grunt rumbled from his chest as he licked into your mouth, greedy and desperate, sucking at your tongue like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. you gasped, clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the sweaty skin under his shirt.

he groaned against your lips, voice ragged. “you—” another thrust, deeper this time, knocking the air from your lungs. “—are driving me fucking crazy.”

you felt your orgasm building fast, your breath catching as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. words tumbled out of your mouth, barely coherent, dissolving into soft gasps as your body clenched around him. jeno moaned against your lips, his hand sliding back to your chest, fingers toying with your nipple. his hips didn’t slow, driving into you with almost manic thrusts that had your head spinning.

“fuck, i’m close,” he breathed out, voice rough in your ear. “where do you want it?”

you blinked through the pleasure, brain too sluggish to register the question. when it did, warmth flooded your cheeks. you were on the pill and the thought of him stuffing you up with his cum, just like you’d written about, made your walls flutter instinctively. “inside,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

jeno’s jaw flexed, his gaze darkening. “yeah?” his pace quickened, rougher now, his lips brushing against your neck. “couldn’t wait for me to fill you up, hm?” his words melted into a groan when you clenched around him.

“jeno—i—” the rest of the sentence dissolved into a cry as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your body arched into him, trembling.

he wasn’t far behind. you felt his rhythm stutter before warmth flooded you, his hips pressing deep as he let out a low, drawn-out moan. his lips found yours again, kissing you slowly, even as both of you tried to catch your breath.

when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours for a while. you wanted to ask what he was thinking, but the words stuck in your throat.

you felt him slip out of you along with the slow drip of hia cum trailing down your thighs. he reached for your discarded underwear, swiping it between your legs with surprising gentleness before, without hesitation, tucking it into his back pocket.

“hey—” you started to protest, but the look he shot you shut you up fast. apparently, those were his now.

a few quiet minutes passed, both of you fixing your clothes, when the door groaned open. you flinched as an older staff member peeked in, eyes widening upon spotting you two.

“what on earth are you two doing in here?”

you quickly stepped forward, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “so sorry, sir! we got lost trying to find the exit, and then the door jammed. thank you for helping us”

“yeah. where’s the way out?” jeno added, right behind you.

“just head left twice. you’ll see the exit sign.” the man shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he waved you off.

“thanks again!” you called, already pulling jeno with you. once outside, the cool night air hit your flushed skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver.

“if we’d followed my directions,” you said, glancing sideways at him, “we would’ve been out a while ago.”

jeno’s jacket appeared over your shoulders before you could argue further. “yeah,” he smirked, eyes glinting under the neon lights. “but then we wouldn’t’ve had all that fun, would we?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 my inbox is always open for any feedback about the fic or if you just wanna talk

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trashytracktales · 5 months ago

Note

omg I LOVE your writings, its my first time ever requesting one, hope u can write it (if u dont like it i would completely understand)

i was thinking about some lando thing, where his girlfriend is reading some spicy book and he accidentally reads some lines and the room gets hot lol, and when everything its done he is just the fluffiest boyfriend of the world

hope u are doing good🩵

By the book | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I genuinely had so much fun with this one, thank you so much for the request. Hopefully this is a nice first experience 😉🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── When boredom leads him to a new world, intense and full of possibilities, Lando wants to prove to his girlfriend that despite the perfect moments in her erotic books, the real deal is still better than fiction.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, edging, teasing, roleplay elements, Max F. cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.7k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 19, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys! I’ve got a couple more one-shots coming your way before the year wraps up, and I just wanted to thank you all so much for your patience and support. It means the world to me 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE FAINT GLOW from Lando’s monitors is the only light in the room, casting faint shadows over his side of the bed. It’s pretty late — later than it probably should be for him to start a streaming session — but Max insisted, and Lando figured it was either this or mindlessly scrolling through his infinite feed until falling asleep. His headset lies next to his keyboard, untouched, as he waits for his best friend to finish whatever pre-stream rituals he’s currently busy with.

From the en suite bathroom, the sound of running water echoes like ambient noise, muffled by the walls yet delicate, while his girlfriend showers. He glances at the door, thinking about how she had kissed him on the forehead just a few minutes ago, hair piled on top of her head in that messy bun he secretly loves. She had told him to have fun streaming, flashing him a sweet smile that made him wish she weren’t about to leave him alone to his boredom.

Lando sighs, spinning slightly in his chair, his gaze randomly falling to the nightstand on her side of the bed. A stack of books rests there unbothered, as it always does, each spine a different color. She goes through them so quickly that he can never keep up with what she’s reading now versus what she finished last week, that's why, normally, he doesn’t pay them much attention. But tonight, in the thick silence, with Max still not ready and the hum of the bathroom as his only company, he reaches for the book at the top of the stack.

The cover is intricate and inviting — soft, watercolor-like strokes of flowers in muted tones frame a bold, serif title. There’s no hint of what it’s about, and when he flips it over, the description on the back isn’t much help, either.

“Vague as hell,” he mutters under his breath after reading it.

He flips the book open, thumbing through the pages, noticing that she's halfway through it, with a scattering of sticky tabs peeking out from various places. A glance at the pages confirms his girlfriend’s habit of underlining sentences and jotting tiny notes in the margins. He smirks to himself, picturing her curled up on the couch, pen in hand, diligently marking her favorite parts, as she always does.

He stops at one of the tabs — a pink one — curiosity getting the best of him. The text beneath is neatly underlined, with a couple of notes scribbled faintly in the margin. His eyes skim over the words, and then he freezes, blinking at what he’s just read.

His hands roamed my bare skin with a deliberate slowness, mapping every curve, every dip. I gasped when his fingers dipped lower, teasing just enough to make me squirm beneath him. “Patience, my love,” he murmured against my neck, his voice rough with desire. “I'll give you what you need.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, while his eyebrows shoot higher on his forehead. His fingers tighten slightly on the book as his eyes dart to the highlighted lines. She’s underlined “I'll give you what you need” and scrawled something next to it — he squints to make it out.

‘OMG. The tension here is insane,’ it reads, followed by ‘On. My. Knees’.

His pulse quickens, and he feels a flicker of heat low in his stomach.

Suddenly, Lando realizes how intimate it is to rummage through her annotations, as they are pure, unfiltered emotions, evoked by scenes that obviously awakened something in her when she read them, and now he feels way too guilty to continue.

But not enough to stop.

He flips ahead, stopping at another pink tab, as if he's on autopilot, guided by sheer curiosity alone.

My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, until there was no space left between us. His mouth was everywhere — on my lips, my collarbone, the sensitive skin of my nipples. I trembled as he kissed his way lower, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I moaned his name, breathless, as he looked up at me with a smirk that promised more.

Lando swallows hard. He shifts in his chair, hyperaware of the heat creeping up his neck. He tells himself to stop, to close the book and put it back, but he can’t seem to help himself.

“You liked that, don’t you?” he asked in a whispered tone. I whimpered in response, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body arched into his touch. “You did, my good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Keep being good, and you'll get to cu—”

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping the book closed. His mind betrays him, conjuring images of her beneath him, her breath hitching the way it does when he teases her, her hands clutching at him as she whispers his name in pleasure.

His jaw clenches, and he drags a hand through his hair, all too aware of the way the air has changed inside the room. Luckily, the vibration of his phone on the desk jolts him back to reality. He startles, nearly dropping the book in his lap.

Scrambling to grab his phone, he sees a text from Max:

“Shit,” Lando mutters under his breath.

He rushes to put the book back where he found it, his movements momentarily clumsy. He’s acutely aware of the way his body feels now — tense, restless, hot — as he makes himself more comfortable in his chair, tugging his headset over his ears.

The monitor flickers to life as Max joins the call, his voice loud and cheery in Lando’s ear. “Finally, mate! Thought you fell asleep or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando replies, his voice a little strained. “Let’s just get started.”

By the time she's done with showering and coming out of the bathroom dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts and towel-drying her hair, Lando is fully immersed in his racing game. She pauses in the doorway, watching him for a moment with a small smile on her face, and he catches her eye briefly, following her as she crosses the room, the t-shirt swallowing her frame entirely. He gives her a quick nod before returning his focus to the screens, while she climbs onto the bed and grabs the book from her nightstand, settling in against the pillows to read.

At that, Lando finds himself smirking.

It’s hard not to, knowing what’s tucked between those pages now. His fingers twitch on the steering wheel, but he keeps driving, throwing himself into the rave to avoid getting distracted.

“Mate, you’re lagging behind,” Max calls out through the headset, breaking Lando’s focus.

“Yeah, mate. Don't worry, I’m here,” he replies, steering his car to catch up.

Time passes in a blur of laughter, strategy, and the occasional curse as he and Max trade wins and losses. At some point, she gets up from the bed, her book left open and facedown on the comforter. Lando watches out of the corner of his eye as she pads over to him, stopping just out of frame.

“Want some tea?” she asks quietly, her voice careful not to interrupt his live stream.

Lando glances up at her briefly, his lips curling into a small smile. His hand leaves the steering wheel, trailing to the back of her thigh, his fingers traveling up slowly, squeezing the soft curve of her ass.

“Yeah,” he whispers, the word leaving him on a smirk.

Her breath catches in her throat at his touch, and she shoots him a pointed look, though the pink dusting her cheeks betrays her.

She swats his hand away lightly, protesting quietly, “Behave,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

TWO HOURS LATER, the game session finally winds down. Lando thanks the chat, throws a parting joke at Max, and shuts down his stream with a satisfied sigh. He swivels in his chair to find his girlfriend still awake, her book now resting on her stomach while she scrolls idly on her phone.

She glances at him and smiles kindly, watching as he heads to the bathroom, but when he gets back a few minutes later, he’s wearing nothing but a fresh pair of boxers and a wide smile. His skin glows faintly from the shower, and water droplets cling to the sharp angles of his collarbone.

Lando approaches the bed slowly, his gaze fixed on her. She looks up from her phone as he slides in beside her, his presence warm and familiar. Without a word, he takes the book from her stomach, his fingers brushing hers lightly as he closes it and sets it back on the nightstand. Then, he leans down, brushing his lips over hers in a kiss that’s soft but full of intent — definitely not the kind that he uses to send her to sleep. Quite the opposite. It makes her hum against his lips, her hand coming up to rest lightly on his chest as she kisses him back.

“You’re still wet,” she notices, pushing Lando lightly to look at him.

When he pulls away, his voice drops, small but teasing. “We can both be,” says Lando.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, not tonight, buddy. You took too long, and I’m sleepy from all the reading.”

“Come on, just wrap your legs around my waist, and pull me closer, until there is no space left between us,” he murmurs the words deliberately.

For a second, her heart skips a beat, her eyes widening slightly as she registers his sentence. Blood rushes to her cheeks and beyond, her pulse quickening.

“What?” she asks, giving him a puzzled look.

Lando’s smirk deepens. He leans closer, letting his breath fan over her ear as he continues, his tone overly suggestive. “What? You don’t want my mouth everywhere? On your lips, your collarbone, the sensitive skin of your nipples?”

Her breath hitches, and her lips part in surprise. Her mind starts spinning as the words he’s quoting — the ones she underlined so carefully in her book — fall from his mouth.

“Lando,” she says cautiously, her voice shaky.

“Hm?” he asks innocently, his fingers ghosting over her hip beneath the t-shirt. “I hope it's okay, I’m just trying to remember what you liked so much. What else was there? Something about… good girls?”

She swats at his chest, but there’s no real force behind it. “You’ve been reading my stuff!”

His laughter is quiet, but there’s heat in his gaze as he leans down to kiss her again, this time deeper, as if he has a purpose.

When Lando pulls back just enough to catch her gaze, his eyes are glinting with mischief. His hand trails up her side, his thumb slowly brushing the soft curve of her waist through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“And? What’s that about, baby?” he asks. “Don't you want to be my good girl?”

She lets out a soft laugh, a mix of flustered and amused, and presses a hand to his chest. “For the record, you’re not allowed to touch my books anymore,” she says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when her cheeks flush under his intense gaze.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, leaning closer, his lips brushing her skin. “I think I learned a lot. Like how you’re into being told what to do, and being touched like this,” he continues, tracing the pads of his fingers up and down her body.

“Lando,” she protests, but her voice wavers, her breath hitching when his teeth graze the sensitive spot just beneath her earlobe.

“You marked all the good bits for me,” he says, his mouth trailing along her neck, placing soft, lingering kisses there. “Made it so easy, really.”

She shakes her head, trying to maintain her composure, but the warmth of his lips and the purposeful way his hands roam her body make it impossible. “You’re being ridiculous,” she whispers.

“And you’re so cute when you’re blushing,” he counters, his lips hovering just above hers. His tone shifts, teasing, giving way to something more profound. “Just know that if you ever want to recreate something from your books... all you need to do is ask, yes?”

Her breath catches as Lando’s fingers find the hem of her t-shirt and tug it upward. She lifts her arms without hesitation, letting him pull it over her head and toss it aside.

“And if you can't tell me, just underline the scenes,” he continues, smirking down at her. “I'll figure it out.”

“Lando…” her voice is much softer now, her eyes searching his, but he silences her with another kiss. Slow and lazy, his tongue dancing with hers on a rhythm only they know.

His hands move over her bare skin, stopping on her waist, then continuing until one of them curls around her neck, “My good girl,” whispers Lando against her lips, echoing the words from her book. “What should I do with you?”

She laughs softly, but it turns into a gasp as his lips leave hers, trailing down over her collarbone, while he squeezes lightly at her neck. He pauses to nip at the delicate dip at the base of her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She smells like her vanilla body lotion, a faint scent that drives him wild.

“You don’t—” she tries to say something, but his mouth moves lower, and her words dissolve into a soft moan as he presses kisses across the swell of her breast, moving his hand on top of it to squeeze the flesh there.

“Relax, baby,” he says, looking up at her briefly, his expression a mix between adoration and pure need. “Just let me play by the book, yeah?”

Her cheeks burn at the intensity in his gaze, but she doesn’t look away. Her hands find his shoulders, holding onto him as his kisses travel lower, across her stomach, his tongue darting out to trace wet patterns against her skin.

When he reaches the waistband of her shorts, he glances up again, his fingers toying with the elastic. “Can I?” he asks softly, his voice full of want.

She nods, her breath shaky, and lifts her hips to help him slide them down her legs.

Lando kisses along her inner thighs, taking his time, savoring the way her body reacts to every little, torturous touch. She’s already trembling under him, anticipation coiling in her stomach as he hooks his arms around her thighs, spreading her legs wider.

“So ready for me, hm?” asks Lando, reaching for a pillow, and sliding it beneath the small of her back, adjusting her gently until she’s perfectly positioned for him. “Every time I open your pretty legs, fucking hell.”

She nods, chewing on her lower lip as she feels his hot breath falling over her skin. The first swipe of his tongue along her slit has her gasping, her head falling back on the mattress, unable to keep her eyes on him. Lando groans, the sound reverberating through her, his movements teasing, as always.

Her hands find his hair, threading through the damp strands as she arches toward him, desperately wanting to feel the heat of his tongue on her.

He looks up, his lips glistening while smirking. “Better than your book so far?”

“Mhm,” she breathes, her voice catching as he dips lower, his tongue working in a rhythm that has her eyes rolling.

He breathes heavily as he runs his tongue over her clit, teasing her hole with the tip. It's too much for her, yet still not enough to make her body shudder, but only ache for more instead. Luckily, Lando doesn’t stop, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as he gives himself entirely to her, the soft sounds she makes driving him on.

Patiently, he brings his fingers between her folds, opening her even more, little by little. When he pushes in the second finger, she moans his name again, which encourages him to curl them inside her, feeling her pussy tighten around him, the sound alone making him so painfully hard.

Lando’s mouth doesn’t leave her for a long while, drawing every gasp, every shudder from her as if it’s his life’s purpose. His tongue flicks, teases, and presses, his movements confident and practiced but still reverent, like he’s savoring her in a way words could never describe.

She’s close, and Lando knows it from the way her thighs tighten around his shoulders, and the way her fingers tug at his hair, grounding herself as the pleasure builds higher and higher. It makes him hum against her wetness, the muffled sound forcing a loud gasp out of her. But right when she approaches the edge, his mouth pulls away, leaving her breathless and shaking.

“Why did you—Lando!” she starts to protest, but her words are cut off when he moves up her body, kissing a heated trail along her stomach, her breasts, and up her neck.

“Patience, baby,” he whispers, the word heavy with intent. “Isn’t that what your book said?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, her breath hitching as she remembers the very scene he’s playing out now. “I couldn’t care less about my book right now, Lando.”

He smirks, his hand sliding between her legs to tease her hole again, his fingers brushing over her sensitive heat with a featherlight touch. “Tell me what you want, then. I want to hear you say it.”

Her heart pounds, her mind is spinning, and the tears are so close from slipping out of her eyes. He's still quoting her stupid book, when he should be fucking her into oblivion instead. Even though now those words feel entirely different coming from his mouth, spoken in that low, rough voice that sends shivers down her spine, only makes her cry in protest when his fingers keep playing with her clit. The pressure he applies is measured enough to just keep her on the edge, but never pushing her over it.

“I want you,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Need you, please.”

“And if I ask you, pretty please, to say it again, will you?” his soft voice forces another moan to slip from her lips, his fingers dipping into her pussy, slow and teasing, feeling her walls constricting around them.

She nods, swallowing hard, “You,” she repeats, louder this time, her hips rolling against his hand. “I want you.”

Lando hums in approval, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he leans down to kiss her, his fingers moving with more intent now. “So good for me, aren't you?” he asks against her lips, and the words make her whimper, heat pooling in her belly.

It doesn’t take long for him to position himself between her thighs, his body fitting against hers like they were made for each other. Unfortunately, he takes his time, teasing her with his length, dragging himself over her wetness, his eyes never leaving hers.

“So good and needy, is that why you read those books?” he asks, mostly curious than anything. “You need something to keep you stimulated all the time? Because if that's the case, we can—”

“Please, Lando,” she begs, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, while breathing heavily.

He chuckles, satisfied, “I've got you, baby, you know I do.”

His restraint snaps at her plea, and he pushes into her hard yet measured, his gaze locked on hers as he fills her inch by inch. Her head falls back, a broken moan spilling from her lips as he bottoms out, his hips flush against hers.

“Fuck, you wrap around me so good,” he mutters, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He waits for her to adjust, his hands running soothingly over her thighs, her waist, and her breasts.

“Move,” she whimpers, her voice breathless as she drags her nails over his back.

He obeys, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has her arching beneath him, her body responding to his every thrust. He leans down, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s as much about love as it is about hunger — a desperate desire to show her that he can be whatever she needs him to be.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes against her mouth. “Every inch of you.”

Her body rises to meet his with every thrust, their movements fluid and desperate as the tension coils tighter and tighter. His name falls from her lips like a prayer, and he drinks it in, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on her neck once again.

“Lan…” she cries out, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper inside her.

“Yes, baby. Wanna hear you,” he continues, his hand slipping between them to find the bundle of nerves that has her crying out again, her body trembling beneath him as his thumb circles around her clit. “Let go for me, come on.”

She shatters beneath him, her release washing over her in waves as she clings to him, her nails raking down his back. He follows moments later, her name a rough groan on his lips as he spills into her, his body shaking with the force of it.

This will always be better than anything, she realizes — better than any fantasy, any scenario, and any book. Just them, sharing each other in every possible way, then taking their time to come down. Together.

Their bodies are still tangled when Lando asks, “So? Was it better?” his voice is rough, but playful as he brushes a strand of hair from her face.

She laughs, her cheeks flushed, and pulls him down for one more kiss; of course he knew what she was thinking about.

“I think it might’ve been,” she teases.

“Oh? Might’ve?” Lando scoffs, his grin widening. “Guess we’ll just have to try again and make sure, then.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

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namgyunation · 1 month ago

Text

not gonna teach him how to dance (with you)

— PART ONE.

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader (the focus); dae-ho x f!reader (barely.) — summary: you spent the past couple months of your life successfully dodging all of nam-gyu's attempts to contact you after you two'd broken up (and for good reason). now, six months later, your luck runs out, and you come face-to-face with the same guy you promised yourself you'd never see again. luckily, your new teammate, dae-ho, is there to act as a buffer. nam-gyu's not the biggest fan of that. — w/c: 17.5k — tags: jealousy. mentions of character death. drug usage. while this first part is generally sfw, the overall fic is 18+. mdni! nam-gyu is an asshole. reader replaces jun-hee in gi-hun's team for the pentathlon. while dae-ho x reader is in the tags, pls keep in mind this is mainly nam-gyu x reader!!! // tags for part 2: brief smut. pinv. unprotected sex. oral. drug usage (reader included). usage of 'bitch' and other unkind terms by nam-gyu.

— a/n: request for dearest ☁️ anon. thank you so much for this insanely fun request. i've been having a lot of fun while writing it. also, this is split into two parts bc i desperately need to release this from my drafts before i lose my mind!!! this first part is mostly exposition, aka, THERE'S NO SMUT IN HERE YET! anywaysss, i hope this is enjoyable while i crank out part 2 :]

he's got two left feet, and he bites my moves. i'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.

you liked to think that you had a somewhat decent childhood. a decent upbringing with decent parents and a decent foundation for your future. a decent chance at life.

you also liked to think that you had a decent taste in men, but maybe that was pushing it a bit far, given your recent circumstances.

you liked to think all of these things.

but if that were all true, how exactly did you end up here?

you brought your knees to your chest, the stiff cot beneath you doing nothing to soothe the unease rising slowly and unbidden in your chest. you pulled the blue-green sweater tighter around yourself as if it'd help you stay together, continuing to stare out blankly at the sea of people before you in the cold room.

a day earlier, you stood at the subway station, anxiety and exhaustion weighing heavily on your bones. your shift had been tiresome. boring. slow. and yet, despite the slowness of your life, there was always an invisible weight, a neverending pressure pushing down on you, looming over your head like an axe ready to fall.

nowadays, you had gotten into the habit of ignoring your bank account, terrified of what you'd find if you dared to look. nonetheless, the ghost of your debts haunted your every move. every waking thought, every shift, every purchase, every shower you took only to promptly find out that your hot water had been shut off.

you ignored a lot of things.

the dull ache in your chest when you lied to your aging parents about how you were doing, not wanting to burden them with your mistakes. the way your landlord looked at you each time you paid your rent later and later, your head hung low in silent desperation. the voicemails and texts flooding your inbox, the last remaining ones before you'd finally blocked him. the fucking reason you were in this whole mess to begin with.

most of all, you ignored the way that, despite it all, a piece of you—a big, big piece of you—still wanted the fucker. still missed him. still—months later—hesitated weakly over the ‘call’ button beneath his contact image: a photo of him grinning next to a tree. it was blurry because you were laughing when you took it, but you liked it. you couldn't bring yourself to change it.

you hated that you still thought about him. you shouldn't be thinking of him at all. but honestly, it'd been impossible not to. not when your savings were nonexistent, drained into nothing because of him. because of the stupid fucking crypto. because he'd done his best to try and convince you that it was a good idea. because you'd trusted him enough to listen when you told him not to, only to wake up one day to him pacing in the living room, all color drained from his face as he pulled on his coat and rushed to work without so much as a glance over his shoulder, despite not being scheduled that day.

you remembered the exact moment you realized what'd happened. remembered what you were wearing, what you'd eaten that day, the three minutes you'd waited in line, the bankteller's bored, uninterested expression when she told you it wasn't a mistake that you couldn't withdraw any money. you remembered sitting on the bench outside feeling cold and numb, like you'd swallowed winter, the frantic messages pouring into your phone after he ignored your first five calls.

i'll fix it, i swear. i'll get it all back. you just have to give me a bit

it'll go back up, trust me. the guy said it would

the guy. he'd bet the entirety of your savings on the words of some fucking guy.

and just like that, you watched your whole life be flushed unceremoniously down the drain. you stayed rooted to the bench for ten minutes, your butt aching from the stiff, rotten wood.

to this day, just shy of six months later, you could still feel every last minute in your bones.

now, standing at the platform, your thumb twitched over your phone screen again. you let your eyes flutter shut, forcing yourself to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.

"rough night?

the voice was smooth, deep, carrying an edge of practiced familiarity. you blinked, lifting your gaze.

a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes stood next to you in a crisp suit, a polite but confident smile on his face as he regarded you kindly. his posture was relaxed, yet deliberate, a sleek briefcase resting against his leg.

you nodded, polite but alarmed by the sudden intrusion on your brooding. it'd been a long time since you cared enough to tangle in small talk with a stranger.

you hadn't even noticed him approach.

"yeah, you could say that," you replied half-heartedly.

he didn't say anything for a moment, just gave you a small nod as he hummed knowingly.

then, after a pause— "tell me, have you ever played ddakji?"

there was something off about the interaction, about the way he looked at you, talked to you with that calm familiarity, like he already knew you.

but you decided to humor it.

your day-to-day life was monotonous, a string of disappointments and uncertainties as you desperately tried to claw your way back up out of the hole you found yourself in, and with every passing moment, it seemed like you just kept on sinking.

so you shrugged internally, willing yourself to open your mind to the new uncertainty standing right in front of you.

you nodded.

by the time you got back home, your palms were slick with sweat. a wad of cash weighed down both of your pockets. your heart was racing as you stumbled over the threshold and quickly clicked the door shut.

you threw yourself onto the couch, your legs suddenly feeling too weak to stand. you felt like a ghost in your own home, not sure if you were really alive, as you pulled a card from your wallet.

a circle. a triangle. a square.

and a number.

but more importantly—

a chance.

clearly, you’d made your choice.

you wrung your hands tightly in front of you, digging your nails into your skin just hard enough to hurt before quickly soothing them with firm swipes of your thumbs.

after the explanation the guards provided you all earlier and the quick flashes of footage of the others getting slapped—same as you,— something inside of you unclenched. but only slightly.

despite its size, the room was suffocating. everyone was dressed the same as you, and you couldn't help but feel uneasy amongst all the unfamiliar faces. they were clearly all as confused as you. and, from what you'd learned earlier, they were just as broke as you, too. you sucked in a breath, only feeling slightly bad about the dull comfort it brought you, knowing that you weren't the only one perched desperately at the edge of your life.

this was your chance. you had to make it count. had to.

ddakji was easy enough. how much worse could this be?

the line inched forward, and you followed, peeking around the person in front of you for a moment. they—the pink guards, were gathering forms from each player. you just wanted to sign the damn thing, play the games, get your money, and get the hell out. traces of euphoria still lingered from the night before, the cash you'd won heavy and crisp in your hands. it made you impatient.

your turn came and went. you signed the paper quickly, barely even skimming the words in front of you before you were pushing the pen forward with numb fingers and breaking off from the crowd to find and claim a good bunk. as long as the promise of money still remained, you didn't find it necessary to get too into the fine details.

there was no going back now.

you're busy walking up the stairs to claim a top bunk when you heard it. it's a distant sound, but the recognition is immediate.

for a moment, everything stopped. a block of ice froze over you, making you feel unbearably heavy. your throat went dry as you turned your head slowly, cautiously towards the source of the intrusion.

a part of you desperately didn't want to believe it, hoped that you were imagining things. a part of you that didn't want to see him.

another part of you—tiny and pulsing and unbidden—did.

your eyes zeroed in on a black head of hair. long, sleek, with layers that jutted out just past the ears. you knew it from the way he stood, the way he moved. suddenly, your pulse quickened, your heart dropping down to your toes as your suspicions were confirmed.

because of course.

of course he had to there.

why the fuck wouldn't he be?

if it weren't for the sickening pit slowly taking form in your stomach, you might've laughed.

"the amazing myung-gi from mg coin? is that you?" a low, familiar rumble. teasing. mocking. your heart jumped.

nam-gyu cut effortlessly through the sea of voices like a knife, his words ringing in your ears even with the vast space between the two of you. your head spun.

you climbed the stairs quickly, suddenly filled with urgency as you took them two at a time. you threw yourself onto the highest cot and backed yourself up against the wall, not stopping until it pressed hard into your back. you tilted your head forward, letting your hair fall over your eyes in a makeshift shield. the only thing you could think to do to obscure yourself from him. you watched him from your vantage point, hoping, praying that he hadn't seen you.

you felt sick.

you pulled your knees up to your face and watched him with bated breath. your nails dug deep into your skin yet again as you tried, desperately, to ground yourself. fuck. you had to get it together. you couldn't let this jeopardize you. the money. this was bigger than him.

it looked like he'd made a friend already. a loud guy covered in tattoos with purple hair that seemed to match his personality: obnoxious, loud, and demanding attention. his voice projected loudly, echoing off the walls of the room. in front of them was a smaller guy. you couldn't fully tell what was going on, but it wasn't hard to tell that it was far from a pleasant interaction.

suddenly, the purple-haired one grabbed him by the collar, reeling back a fist with the clear threat of violence. nam-gyu quickly defused it, smiling as he peeled his 'friend' from the smaller guy. you couldn't hear what he was saying. he rubbed his shoulders as if placating him from his previous outburst.

you snorted in spite of the unease still settling in your bones.

leave it to nam-gyu to still find a way to insert himself into these kinds of situations, to seek out the worst possible people and attach himself to them like a magnet. even in a strange place like this.

you watched his back as he walked away and disappeared into his own corner of the room. thankfully, away from you. finally, you breathed, letting some of the tension in your shoulders fall away. there was no time for distractions. you had to get it together.

soon enough, it was time for the first game.

you weren’t sure what to expect, but you still carried yourself with as much confidence as you could. the crowd moved forward in a massive wave, funneling into the hallway leading into the game arena. pink guards led the crowd, a few of them standing at attention on the sidelines to make sure everyone kept moving. they looked so serious even in their hot pink uniforms. if this was some sort of game show, they were definitely taking themselves too seriously.

you took extra care to keep your head down, shielding the sides of your face with your hair as you matched the speed of those around you, not wanting to stick out. paranoia slipped between the cracks of your mind, but you pushed it down.

soon, you found yourself staring out at the large clearing stretching before you. you weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't this. you scanned the crowd. you didn't see him, but it didn't comfort you. he could be anywhere.

now, in the wide, empty space, you felt exposed. you quickly found a spot behind someone taller and bigger than you, taking shelter there while you waited patiently for instructions.

"all players, please wait a moment on the field." a voice boomed over the speakers.

that's when you saw it. a massive, animatronic doll standing at the far end. mechanical eyes staring straight ahead.

a man beside you chuckled. amused and incredulous. "what the hell is that?"

you didn't have an answer for him.

it wasn’t until the game had started and you were midway through the field with your heart hammering against your ribs and your palms slick with sweat that you realized the true gravity of the situation you're in.

every moment seemed to pass by in fragments, like it wasn’t really happening. like you weren’t really there.

the man in front of the crowd did little to comfort you. if anything, his words made your head spin more.

"you'll also die if you don't make it there in time!"

his voice reached your ears just fine amidst the eerie silence, but it was hard to focus over the feeling of your heart pounding craters into your chest.

"GREEN LIGHT."

you forced yourself to move despite the way your legs wobbled and threatened to give out. your pulse slammed in your ears as you ran. the finish line seemed a lifetime away. was this really how you were going to die?

the lines of players continued to inch forward at a torturous pace. you swallowed your nerves, clenched your hands into fists to hide the way they shook.

"RED LIGHT."

you lurched to a stop. your breath shuddered.

a man in the line to the right of you was still mid-step. his eyes widened in horror just before the shot rang out. he dropped. you tried not to look, but you saw. saw the way he fell like a ragdoll. saw the way the blood pooled beneath him, slowly.

your eyes flicked away from the crime scene, searching the rest of your periphery for anything else to wash away what you just saw. that's when you finally saw him. his head is low, ducked behind the taller woman in front of him. you couldn't see his face, but you saw the way his whole body locked. he's perfectly still, barely even breathing.

"GREEN LIGHT."

you pushed forward. step by step.

time slowed down, and you got tunnel vision. the only thing that mattered right now was reaching the finish line.

nam-gyu reached it before you, but you were barely even paying attention at that point, too distracted by the panic you were just barely able to swallow down.

when it came down to being noticed by nam-gyu or eating a bullet, the decision seemed much easier for you.

lucky for you, he couldn't be damned to care, either. as soon as he crossed the finish line, he threw himself to the ground, gripping the dirt with shaky hands like it was a lover. he didn't turn around, didn't give a fuck who was still on the field. he'd made it, and fuck. that was the only thing he gave a shit about right now.

when you finally crossed the threshold, your knees buckled, and you fell unceremoniously to the ground, clenching a fist in the material of your shirt as you counted the beats of your heart.

you were alive.

the last player stumbled across the finish line just as the timer ran out. you vaguely remembered picking yourself up, forcing your body to move despite the heaviness in your bones. you didn't look back.

not at the bodies. not at the blood.

the hallway swallowed you whole, leading you and the other players back to the main dormitory. soon, the doors had been slammed shut behind you, sealing away all the lifeless bodies left on the field.

the air in the main room was suffocating. the tall rows of beds seemed to cage you all in, standing tall like silent judges. you felt cramped, somehow even moreso than earlier, despite the fact that half of the people you'd walked in with hadn't walked back out.

the thought made you shudder.

some players collapsed the second they entered. others cried. you're surprised you hadn't joined them yet. you hugged your knees to your chest as the cold floor reached through your clothes and chilled you. climbing the stairs seemed too daunting of a task, right now. goosebumps rose to your skin as you waited. for what, you weren't sure.

when the guards emerged again, you realized that you'd completely forgotten about nam-gyu.

a loud, intimidating buzzer sounded, startling you from your position. your breath caught in your throat as you scrambled to your feet and hurriedly retreated deeper into the bunks against the far wall, as did all the others.

"congratulations for making it through the first game." the guard's voice was cold, mechanic.

his words were met with silence. nobody moved.

"here are the results of the first game," the guard continued.

your eyes flicked up to the screen, mouth going dry as you watched the number drop rapidly. it could've been you.

you chanced a glance around the room, then, and it didn't take long to find him. if you looked for the splotch of purple amongst the sea of black, he'd be right there next to it. nam-gyu's eyes were wide, lips slightly parted as he gripped tightly to the step he was sitting on.

it could've been you, but it also could've been him. you felt cold.

something inside of you—something small and quiet and aching—almost made you want to get up and talk to him, to ask him if he was okay, to hear your name on his lips for the first time in months.

you wondered if it would comfort you. you wondered if it would comfort him.

your thoughts were bordering on something dangerous, something akin to desperation, egged on by the intense fear building in your chest. the smell of blood and gore hung heavily in the air as your eyes traced the sharp edges of his face, your legs twitching with the barely hidden desire to move.

lucky for you, your thoughts were forcibly cut off by the sound of other players throwing themselves down in front of the guards. you swallowed, your pulse quickening as you watched them beg for their lives. did it even matter? would the guards even listen?

a few seconds passed of that: the guards standing stiff and tall on their elevated platform, looking down at everyone as they pleaded and begged. you felt sick.

then, the man that had led the crowd through the first game stepped forward.

"clause three of the consent form! the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

your breath caught again. yeah. maybe it would've been a good idea to read the form, after all.

there would be a vote, and maybe you could leave. your mind raced at a million miles a minute as you planned out your next move. maybe you'd finally fess up to your parents and ask for their support. maybe you'd suck it up and just take out a loan. maybe. there were options, for sure, right? there had to be. it couldn't be any worse than this.

it was then that the guard pulled out a small remote, pointing it at the ceiling before clicking a button.

the harsh, white overhead lighting shifted and melted into something warmer, almost pleasant, like the dim glow of a campfire. you tilted your head skyward, taking in the source of the light with wide eyes.

everyone watched as the golden piggy bank filled with a steady stream of cash. it almost seemed like it wouldn't ever stop, each moment punctuated with a rhythmic ding as the money climbed higher and higher.

you could feel it in real time as you watched each wad of cash drop in, the way each hypothetical plan from the past few seconds crumpled itself up into a ball before promptly being discarded into a forgotten corner of your mind.

you swallowed hard, head spinning as you took it all in, your desperation at odds with your innate desire to survive. not too long ago, you stood on a desolate field littered with dead bodies, filled with nothing but thoughts of home.

now? you felt like you were being drawn in, held down, beckoned by some unseen magnetic force. it was like your body was practically begging you to stay.

fuck. you really needed that cash.

you glanced around quickly, but it was harder to pick out nam-gyu from the crowd now that everyone was standing.

however, you didn't really need to see his reaction to know that his pathetic, sorry ass definitely needed the cash, too.

soon, the room was set up for the vote. a blue 'o' and a red 'x' marked the floor, splitting it perfectly down the middle.

you stared intently at the voting booth at the far end of the room, skin buzzing with a feeling you couldn't name. you should leave. really, you should. it was the logical thing to do after what you'd seen, but the seed of doubt had already been planted, and with every passing moment, it grew bigger and harder to ignore, warmed by the glow of the piggy bank hanging overhead.

your number wasn't too close to the beginning, nor was it right at the end, so you had plenty of time to think, to try and talk yourself out of what your body was screaming at you to do.

eventually, the guard called your number, and every muscle in your body locked up. you exhaled sharply, rubbing your thumbs over your knuckles to soothe yourself. you kept your head down as you walked up and let your hair fall over your face, desperately trying not to meet anyone's eyes. nam-gyu hadn't voted yet, thankfully, so it would be a little easier to avoid him seeing you.

it was quiet as everyone watched your back, eyes flicking between you and the screen as they waited for what you'd do.

you came to a stop at the voting booth, taking in both buttons as you worried your bottom lip. you paused for a few seconds, trying and failing to force your body to change its mind, to come to its senses last minute, but it didn't.

it was almost laughable how quickly you found your answer. you knew it before your number had been called, before you even walked up.

the bodies. the blood. the gunshots. it all flashed through your head, made your hands shake. but when you put all the delusions to the side and it really came down to it—what exactly was even waiting for you on the outside?

you slammed the button quickly, taking the blue patch from the guards and applying it frantically before you turned, awkwardly tipping your head forward to let the hair fall over your eyes again as you ducked your head, not daring to look up. you slipped seamlessly into the 'O' crowd as they cheered for you, their eyes glued to the screen as the blue vote went up by one.

you held your breath and waited in silent agony as the minutes crawled by. had he seen you? was he looking at you now? you didn't dare look, but your neck itched with the temptation.

when the vote finally ended, revealing that the games were going to continue, you didn't cheer, but something sick washed over you—relief? hope? determination?

you were a walking contradiction: terrified for what the following days would bring, of what you saw today, but still desperate enough to want to grip onto this opportunity and take whatever you posibbly could from it. what else was left for you if you didn't?

thankfully, the guards supplied all of the players with food as soon as the vote ended. it was much appreciated, considering the guilt now steadily gnawing away at your conscience.

you shoved yourself into a dark corner of the dormitory, clutching the cold tin like a lifeline as you finished it all. it wasn't the best. the rice was dry, and considering it was the only thing you had to eat today, it barely even felt like a meal, but it was what you were given, and you sure as hell weren't about to waste it.

you sat with your back against the cold metal bars of the bunk beds, knees drawn up as you finished the water bottle in just a few gulps. you wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve as your eyes flickered across the room, cautious, searching, scanning the sea of strangers yet again as you tried to wrap your head around the situation you were in.

you'd purposefully wedged yourself into a quiet corner of the room far away from the others, from him.

a thought struck you, then. how many of these people were already working together? you took in the murmurs and hushed discussions flowing around you, suddenly feeling a bit dumb in the small corner you'd tucked yourself in.

your hands curled around the now-empty water bottle, crushing it slightly as your breathing quickened. you'd barely spoken to anyone, all your energy having gone towards avoiding nam-gyu, and in a place like this, you were certain that that was a mistake.

a commotion across the room pulled your attention. you leaned forward, trying to get a better view around the beds.

you spotted nam-gyu first. he was busy pulling the guy from earlier—mg coin—off of his purple-haired friend. you watched as nam-gyu held him back, locking him in by his arms just long enough for his friend to get some punches in. the sound of a fist connecting with his jaw echoed through the room—once, twice, and then he crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt. it made you wince.

"i lost all that money because of you, fucker." his frien'ds voice carried over to your corner, loud and angry and filled with malice.

behind him, nam-gyu rolled up his sleeves. "hey, let me get in there." he directed his attention to the man on the floor as he ran up, face twisted in a sneer. "you son of a bitch—"

your eyes widened as the scene unfolded before you, mouth curling up in a mixture of disgust, confusion, and amusement as you watched as your ex-boyfriend completely fumbled his kick, promptly losing his balance and falling to the ground right after.

you held back a laugh, the hand still holding your water bottle going up to cover your mouth as you watched his friend shove him back out of the way. what a loser.

you turned away, settling back into your corner as you held the metal tray in front of you, running your thumbs over the cold surface in an attempt to soothe yourself as you waited patiently for all of this to be over.

the night came and went. you didn't sleep well.

an announcement echoed through the vast, sterile room, rousing you from your inadequate sleep and reminding you of exactly where you were. it took a moment for you to fully process the stuffy tracksuit scratching your skin and the stiff, foreign bed pressing up beneath you. your stomach twisted as you threw your thin blanket to the side and forced yourself down the stairs. the cheerful music sounding over the speakers did nothing to comfort you. if anything, it made you feel worse.

"the next game will start momentarily. please follow the instructions from our staff."

soon, you and the other players were being led through the hallways yet again. obedient lambs being led to the slaughter. you climbed up and down the staircases without a word, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale as you took in the brightly colored interior around you, a stark contrast to the danger that was no doubt waiting for you at your destination.

a small part of you wanted the stairs to go on forever, but soon enough, the big gray doors separating you from your potential death were sliding open. the pink guards filed into the room, you and the rest of the players in tow. the mechanical voice sounded over the speakers yet again.

"players, welcome to the second game. we will begin shortly. this game will be played in teams."

in teams.

"please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five. i will now repeat the instructions."

a chill spread through your body.

fuck. you could barely stand group projects when you were still in school, preferring to just get everything done on your own. it was exhausting, having to depend on others and put your trust in them to do their part and pull their weight. now, standing dumbly in a foreign room surrounded by a sea of strangers, it dawned on you that you had no choice.

before, an inadequate team meant your grade was on the line, an easy fix with a quick email to your professor.

here? an inadequate team meant certain death, and unfortunately for you, technology just hadn't advanced far enough to find an easy fix for a bullet to the head.

"please divide into teams starting now."

get it together.

you weaved in and out of the crowd, searching for someone merciful enough to take you in. people were already moving, scrambling into groups like ants, their voices overlapping hurriedly in rushed whispers and negotiations.

"already full."

"try somewhere else."

"sorry, we're set."

your heart pounded faster and faster with each rejection. what would happen if you didn't have a group? it wouldn't be fair. the guards wouldn't allow that. right?

you made eye contact with a group of four men, and you opened your mouth to speak as you steered yourself in their direction, a spark of hope bubbling in your chest.

"sorry. we already have our group," one of them spoke before you could even say anything.

you paused mid-step. their body language became clear to you. the way they turned their backs to you ever so slightly, huddling closer to each other in a tight circle that clearly existed to shut you out, just enough to subtly express their clear disinterest while maintaining plausable deniability. their eyes flicked over your body, looking you up and down.

your hand went up, gesturing vaguely at their huddle. admittedly, you were growing a bit desperate.

"you have four? i thought..."

you trailed off as another man sauntered up to their group, approaching them from the side and immediately drawing their full attention.

"are you still looking for a fifth player? i'd like to join you."

two of the men grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him quickly, wordlessly into their circle, clapping him on the shoulder like they were long-lost friends.

they didn't spare you a second glance.

you shut your mouth quickly, any and all words dying on your tongue as you watched another door shut in front of you.

when you looked around again, you found that almost everyone had arranged themselves neatly. circles of five dotted the room and continued to grow.

the groups were forming fast.

too fast.

you pictured yourself again, trying to claw yourself out of a hole that just kept on sinking deeper.

the air in the room somehow felt thinner. still, you pushed forward, gripping onto hope. there had to be an open spot somewhere.

and then—

a subtle shift in the air. enough to tug at your chest with a slight feeling of unease. the prickle of something unseen.

your body reacted before your mind did. something was off. you slowed, your movements stiffening.

and then, in your peripheral vision—

you felt it. the weight of his stare boring holes into your profile.

you froze, suddenly realizing how exposed you were. a lone ant wandering frantically around the established huddles. your heart dropped to your toes. slowly, you turned your head, just a fraction.

nam-gyu stood just a few feet away, caught mid-step, his body rigid like he'd just walked straight into a nightmare.

as you expected, his eyes are locked onto you, wide with something unreadable.

and for the first time in six months, you saw him. really saw him. not from a distance, not from a memory, not from old photos or in between the spaces in your dreams.

you saw him.

and he sure as hell saw you.

your breath caught, feeling like a deer in headlights.

you noted the increased sharpness of his jaw, the thinning of his face. a stray thought hit you, and you wondered if he'd been eating well since you were gone. his eyes looked tired. his hair was longer. it had been a long time.

at first, his face didn't change. he stood still, eerily still, almost like a statue, staring at you like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. he narrowed his eyes for a moment, leaning in ever so slightly as if confirming your identity.

recognition flashed across his features, and he faltered. his friend that he'd been following rushed ahead, completely unaware of nam-gyu lagging behind him.

then, his expression shifted.

you watched as his jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line. his hands curled into fists at his sides.

the way he looked at you—his eyes flashing with disbelief, anger, and underneath it all, something absolutely wrecked—it made your stomach twist.

you knew that look. you knew him. it didn't take a genius to guess what was going on in his head right now. just you.

nam-gyu's mind twisted as flickers of you rose to the surface, crawling out from their hiding places beneath his overwhelming fear. a cruel replay of the slow and steady crash of what the two of you had built together. and he'd been the one to push the first domino.

he remembered it all. how he'd begged like his life depended on it, sad and desperate and pleading as he felt the rug being pulled in real-time from beneath his feet. sent texts and left voicemails that went unanswered. chased after you for months when you suddenly decided you were done—for real, this time—and scrubbed yourself cleanly from his life. he'd tracked down mutual friends for a single hint or loose end, only to find that you'd scrubbed that, too.

something possessed you the day you found out, and you made quick work of it: new number, new socials, new place, new friends. you cleaned every surface, filed away each memory, dusted every cobweb sitting in the corners of what used to be your relationship, and somehow still found the time to leave your shoes neatly at the door.

you'd become a ghost in his life, only existing in loose items between couch cushions and scattered beneath the sink, in passing questions from people that he didn't care about in conversations that he didn't want to have.

and now—now you were here. standing right in front of him.

like you'd been raised from the fucking dead.

after months of searching. months of nothing.

you backed away a fraction of a step.

he saw it.

his nostrils flared, fingers twitched. his posture went rigid like a coil about to snap, like a creature about to pounce, but he didn't move towards you. he didn't say anything. just watched.

because he wouldn't give you the satistfaction. wouldn't let you know that this did something to him. that he even gave a shit. that the very sight of you still made his heart race and hands shake.

you snapped out of it, turning fast. your chest tightened with the urge to get away.

behind you, nam-gyu watched your back in retreat, only letting his eyes rest on you for a few more seconds before he forced himself to turn, following after his friend again as he desperately tried to ignore the blood rushing in his ears.

your face was pale as you looked from side to side, legs shaking with the effort of not crumbling to the floor. then, you saw him. alone and searching amongst the crowd. a tall man with his hair done up in a ponytail. his eyes locked on to another player, someone just a few feet away.

you watched in horror as another door threatened to close before you. you didn't think, didn't hesitate, your feet barely touching the ground as you sprinted towards him.

he startled when you grabbed onto his sleeve. perhaps a bit too rough. your nails dig into the fabric of his tracksuit, clutching him like you're afraid he might run away. you're aware of how crazy you must look, looking up at him with your eyes blown wide and all color drained from your face.

his brow furrowed, mouth opened, but you spoke first.

"please."

the word came out choked, desperate. your knuckles turned white around his sleeve, your grip tight enough for him to know that this wasn't just a casual request.

"let me join your team." it didn't even dawn on you that he might not even have a team, what with the way he was wandering around alone. you didn't really care. "please," you said again.

the man looked at you, his face still laced with surprise from the suddenness of your interaction. not even a second passed before he was nodding enthusiastically, looking almost relieved.

"sure!" he said simply. a smile. "come on."

his hand came out to tap on your shoulder twice. his touch was light, respectful, barely perceptible as he led you forward, towards his team. as if sensing your unease, he let his fingers linger on your shoulder, hovering just slightly above so he was barely even touching you. still, it tethered you to him with the promise of a group.

you didn't exhale until your legs finally came to a stop before them.

"sir, sir, i found someone!" he said, fingers fanning out as he gestured to you at his side. "or, she found me." he smiled kindly at you.

you nodded shakily. "thank you," you managed to get out, now that your pulse was slowly returning to normal.

the three older men acknowledged you politely.

some of the tension released from your shoulders. you had a team.

from across the room, nam-gyu watched next to his newly formed team, his lower lip caught between his teeth as his mind filled with static. he turned away quickly, scared that you'd turn around and catch him looking.

he played anxiously with his rings, sliding them on and off of his fingers as he struggled to catch his breath. the world muffled around him for a moment before he was dragged back by a random outburst of english.

"what's up, my brother! welcome to the thanos world." he—thanos, pulled the shortest member of the newly-formed team into a hug. "you're cute. come on."

nam-gyu felt like his head might split open.

relief felt funny in a place like this. as soon as your body started to unclench, albeit just a little bit, the world made sure to remind you that this whole ordeal was far from over, and soon enough, your body started clamming right back up.

sure, you were relieved that you'd found a team, but was it even the right one?

you didn't even know what the game was going to be, didn't even know if you were going to alive within the next hour.

the thought made you shudder, so you did your best to push it down, your attention fading in and out as they conversated around you. your hands twitched nervously at your sides as you fought against the urge to scan the room, to see where he was.

despite the temptation, you weren't sure if you were mentally equipped to handle what would happen if you were to make eye contact with nam-gyu for a second time. you hadn't turned around once since you'd joined dae-ho's side. you couldn't—not when the prickle of paranoia was icing up and down your spine, telling you that he was looking at you now, a warning. not when you knew exactly what kind of expression he was wearing—something between a sneer and a scowl, like he was daring you to look back.

you kept your gaze forward and your face unreadable. the last thing you needed was any outside people getting involved in whatever was brewing between the two of you. if you had any say in it, you hoped to get through all the games without speaking to nam-gyu at all.

somewhere across the room, nam-gyu's jaw tightened as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. he watched your back intently, like he was still coming to terms with the fact that it was really you. a cold, aching feeling had settled in his chest at the first sight of you, and it coiled tighter and tighter with each passing moment that you didn't try to look for him. you didn't even turn your head. it was like you didn't give a shit that he was there or the fact that you hadn't seen him in six. fucking. months. nam-gyu's whole body felt hot, but he couldn't say anything. not here. not now.

his team stood in a huddle beside him, chatting amongst themselves, though it was mostly thanos that was speaking. he said something loud and off-key, likely a joke. only one person laughed. nam-gyu could hear his voice, but he couldn't make out any of the words. he wasn't listening.

after a few more moments of that, of waiting in silent agony for you to show a single sign of caring, he forced himself to turn around, to tear his eyes away from you, pretending as if the past six months hadn't been absolute hell—as if he hadn't seen you in his dreams every single night, only to wake up dazed and confused in a sweat-soaked shirt, reality setting in as he realized that his bed was too cold and too small for the two of you. it always took a few seconds for him to remember that he was alone, and each time, it hurt just as bad as the night before.

and now? now you were here, real and right in front of him, sharing the same damn air, and you wouldn't even fucking look at him.

he was silent as he regarded his new team, a sour taste forming in his mouth for more reasons than one. every second that you were out of his view was agonizing, but he would never admit that. he could walk over to you right now, if he wanted, but he couldn't. not after you'd looked at him like that—like you didn't even know him.

he refused to give you the satisfaction of turning him away yet again.

he had more important things to focus on, anyways. at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

soon enough, the timer ran out and teams were finalized. all the players were lined up on the floor within their respected circle. you stared at the track out of the corner of your eyes, noting the rainbow pattern indifferently as you rubbed slow, soothing circles into your knees.

you noticed that the rest of your team seemed somewhat acquainted as they chatted amongst themselves, likely from the first game. it made you feel a bit out of place, considering you were the last minute addition hurriedly and desperately wedged into their group.

however, their slight familiarity with each other was welcome. if anything, it meant that the team would function well. at least, you hoped it would. you breathed a silent prayer, thankful that, despite the fact that you'd basically taken a shot in the dark when you asked to join, your team seemed promising. seemed normal. it was the least you could ask for in a strange place like this. either way, there was no backing out now.

the first round of players went up, and you watched intently as they lined up and were promptly cuffed together by the guards.

after a brief discussion with your team, it was decided that you were going to play ddakji. your mind drifted back to the other day. how innocent and unassuming the game seemed that night on the platform. you pushed yourself to your knees to get a better view.

ddakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning top, and finally, jegi.

you sucked in a breath as you took it all in, thankful for the fact that your team hadn't been called to go up first, though the apprehension still found a way to creep in. your fingers twitched in your lap, shaking with steadily rising anxiety as you watched the clock. you fisted your hands into the material of your sweatpants in an attempt to still them, a shudder tearing through your body as the man in front of you messed up flying stone yet again.

next to you, dae-ho noticed.

"hey," he said, his voice firm but still gentle. you tore your eyes away from the track for a moment to return his gaze. at that, he leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his touch was as light and soft as it was earlier, barely perceptible as he patted you. he pressed his lips into a thin, firm line before he nodded at you, just once. "we're gonna do just fine. don't worry too much." after a moment, he added, "plus you're with two ex-marines!" he furrowed his brows as he said it, pumping a singular fist in the air between the two of you with a solid look of determination on his face.

next to him, jung-bae leaned over, his face just as serious as he wrapped an arm around dae-ho, shaking him vigorously. "that's right! there's nothing a marine can't do."

they both looked at each other now, nodding their heads as if affirming each other's statements.

dae-ho turned back to you with a steady, unwavering gaze that you could only hope to return. his voice was confident and even as he spoke again, "you're in good hands with us, miss."

you breathed in again, giving him a small nod in lieu of a response, and for the first time that day, you almost felt like smiling.

somewhere in front of you, nam-gyu's neck was stiff with tension, struggling against the temptation to scan the faces behind him. he couldn't risk you seeing, couldn't risk you getting the outlandish idea that he gave a shit, not after you'd been so adamant about not looking at him—and yet, despite how badly he tried to focus on the track and preparing himself for spinning top, questions continued to fire mercilessly through his mind.

which track were you in? where were you sitting? which game were you going to play? would you go up first, or would he? and most importantly—who was in your team besides that guy you'd ran up to? his eye twitched, remembering. yeah. the guy with the stupid fucking ponytail.

he replayed the moment in his head over and over again, recounting that terrified, wide-eyed look that'd spread over your face at the sight of him, like seeing him again was somehow scarier than what the two of you had seen the other day.

in the time you'd been apart, he'd done a lot of thinking. about how long it'd take for you to crack and finally reach out to him. what you'd do when—not if—you saw him again. if you'd care. if you'd be happy. maybe even relieved.

it seemed like he got his answer, but he wasn't the least bit happy about it. he seethed in silent rage, nibbling anxiously at his lower lip as he desperately tried to maintain the casual slouch he was forcing himself into.

he didn't care.

really, he didn't.

next to him, thanos bobbed around to the soundtrack in his own head. nam-gyu watched him carefully out of the corners of his eyes, analyzing his face for a moment before dropping his gaze down to the cross that was no doubt dangling from his neck, hidden behind the zipper of his sweatshirt.

he'd seen it earlier—thanos hunched over on his bed as he delicately plucked a pill from his cross, tucking it away quickly the second nam-gyu'd asked about it. the image of the pills flitted across his mind, all colorful and round and tantalizing, and most importantly, swaying innocently back and forth less than a foot away.

nam-gyu swiped his tongue along the front of his teeth, temporarily broken out of his stupor by the possibility, the promise, that if he just played his cards right, he would be able to get high. would be able to drift away and get his mind off of everything. off of you. it definitely wouldn't be the first time he'd done so.

his eyes drifted back up to the big, digital clock hanging on the wall, and he watched with bated breath as it slowly wound down, each second feeling like a punch to the gut.

finally, it reached zero. neither team had made it to the end, though one of them had come tantalizingly close, all five of them standing just inches away from their life. the guards wasted no time as they stepped forward. nam-gyu knew what came next. everyone did, and yet, it didn't make it even the slightest bit easier to watch.

in an instant, the shots rang out, followed by the sickening thud of ten lifeless bodies hitting the ground.

for a second, his mind was blank, overtaken by the ice cold surge of fear taking over his system.

he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging painfully into the meat of his palm as every cell in his body shook with unbridled fear.

it wasn't a question anymore. if the games didn't kill him, nam-gyu was certain that the anxiety fucking would. his stomach was doing somersaults, tying itself painfully into knots. he tore his eyes away from the track, from the bodies, and leaned towards thanos, a heat creeping up his neck as he grabbed him, desperate for something tangible to hold onto.

thanos barely acknowledged him, save for a curt glance and a sharp "what?"

nam-gyu swallowed his pride, forcing down the air catching in his throat as he spoke. he needed those fucking drugs, and he was going to get them.

it didn't take much convincing, thankfully. just a few words and a tug of his sleeve. the second thanos gave him that look, something akin to genuine concern—nam-gyu knew he had him.

and of course, less than a minute later, nam-gyu was eagerly crunching a bitter, chalky pill between his teeth. it was fast-acting, for sure, but the relief washed over the instant it hit his tongue. it hadn't even kicked in yet, but it didn't matter. just knowing that he had it was enough.

he'd get through this game. he'd get his damn money. then he'd get the fuck out.

once he did, he'd pay off his debt and start new, and you wouldn't even matter anymore. at least, that's what he told himself as he finally swallowed, feeling every last bit of the pill as it scratched its way down his throat.

he repeated it over and over in his mind like a mantra, as if saying it enough times would make it true. and yet, even as the drug started to settle in, even as the warmth pleasantly unfurled in his limbs, he knew, deep down, that it was bullshit.

a few more teams went up. most passed, thankfully. you tried not to think too hard about the ones that didn't.

every time you heard the ding, the signifier that a player had passed their game and could advance, you cheered, as did everyone else. the room was alive with a static kind of energy, lively and laced with an underlying apprehension. every time the players celebrated, the crowd whooped, jumping up and down and grabbing at each other wildly. next to you, dae-ho hollered, pumping his fists in the air as he cheered the next team on. he turned to look at you a few times, staring down at you with furrowed brows and that same strong sense of determination, like he was trying to convince you, and maybe even himself, that your team would be able to do just as well.

up until now, the teams had been made up of strangers, just nameless faces and fellow unfortunate souls—most of which, you'd likely never get to know.

when the next pair of teams were called up, your eyes followed the movement, watching as the next players took their place on the track. your stomach clenched when you saw him.

you noted the number on the back of nam-gyu's tracksuit, committing it to memory. 124. a morbid thought bubbled up to the forefront of your mind. no matter how you felt about him or what'd transpired between the two of you, you desperately hoped that this wouldn't be the last time you saw his number.

the air shifted just slightly, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth as you pressed yourself up on your knees, trying to get a better view, emboldened by the fact that you were hidden in the thrum of the crowd.

you watched as the guards approached, leaning down to get his team situated. the sound of their cuffs clicking into place sent a shudder through your body. based on their order, you knew that he was going to be playing spinning top.

he didn't look at you, not that he'd know where to look in the first place.

you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward as your eyes raked over him. his body appeared relaxed, almost too relaxed, but you knew better. if you knew nam-gyu at all, you were certain that there was no way he was capable of remaining completely calm in a situation like this. you continued to watch him, your eyes staring intently at his profile and at the stupid, dopey grin spreading across his face, his expression at complete odds with the situation at hand.

you balked a bit. how the hell was he smiling right now? he looked over at thanos, and you watched as they exchanged that same glossy, almost far-away look with each other before linking arms, jostling each other with the movement. nam-gyu rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, jumping up and down just slightly as a dazed laugh escaped his lips. he wobbled, and it almost looked like he was going to fall back, but he tightened his grip on thanos, pulling himself forward and correcting his balance.

thanos snapped him out of it, shaking him vigorously where their arms were linked as if trying to hype him up. "come on, bro! let's do this!" his voice was as loud as always, boisterous and confident, like there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they'd make it through the game. he had that same dopey smile on his face, one that matched nam-gyu's perfectly. you weren't sure if the sight comforted you or not.

the shorter teammate to his left struggled to stay upright in response to both of their erratic movements as they continued to jostle each other, giggling like kids. a small gasp left his lips as he tried not to fall, shifting his legs and leaning forward more to accomodate the weight of nam-gyu's arm slung across his shoulder. further down to his left, the one girl on his team rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the two of them with something you guessed was regret. the man at the far end looked more confused than anything.

you blinked. if you didn't know any better, you'd think nam-gyu was high. you'd seen him in that state more than enough times to know when he was. but... in here? how could he be?

suddenly, the gun shot sounded to signal the start of the game, interrupting your thoughts and pulling your attention back to the present. your breath caught as the five minute timer started to count down. without wasting another second, his team began to advance.

nam-gyu's first two teammates passed without a hitch.

his third teammate, mousy and skittish and uncertain, messed up gonggi once or twice, only to promptly face nam-gyu's onslaught of curses as he shook him back and forth with a vehement sneer, a display that made you wince. soon enough, he finally caught the five pieces, his palm turning up quickly to prove to the guards that he'd done it. the crowd—you included—breathed a collective sigh of relief that was followed by roaring cheers.

nam-gyu was next. the first time he went, he messed up. the top hit the ground with a snap. his throw was too rough, not the right angle, and it bounced up, coming back down with a plop as it sat motionless on the floor. you winced. every atom in your body was cheering for him, begging him to make it through.

as if getting revenge for her previous teammate, the girl reached out as soon as the top clattered pathetically to the floor, grabbing nam-gyu roughly by the collar and shaking him angrily. he didn't say anything as she cursed at him, just took it, his eyes wide as his chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

on his second attempt, despite the stupid way thanos was dancing next to him—an erratic purple blob invading his periphery—thank fucking god, he got it right.

the top shot out like a bullet, landed, and began to spin, smooth and quick.

a deep breath shuddered out of you as you watched him celebrate, his expression incredulous as relief washed over him. his legs shook wildly, almost buckling under his weight, and it looked like he was barely resisting the urge to jump up and down before he pulled himself back together. you felt something unclench in you at the sight.

thankfully, thanos passed his game on the first try, easily making up for the time his past two teammates had lost.

and just like that, nam-gyu's team was off the chopping block.

you watched nam-gyu's back as they walked away, emboldened by the fact that you were shielded by the crowd. if he turned around, he wouldn't be able to find you. it didn't end up mattering, though, because he disappeared into the exit without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

you sunk back down onto your knees and did your best to pretend that it didn't mean something to you.

in the dormitory, nam-gyu sat with his team, his legs pressed together, arms slung lazily across his lap, a mask of indifference plastered across his face.

he grinded his teeth behind his lips, his nails digging into the skin of his thighs over his sweatpants as he pretended like he wasn't waiting.

waiting for you.

he hadn't spoken too much since his team had passed and they'd arrived in the main room. he was too focused on not thinking about you, on not letting anyone see how much he wanted to know if you were still alive. the drugs had worn off a bit ago, bringing him back to the reality that he, unfortunately, gave a shit.

the very real possibility of the last time he ever saw you being him watching your back from a distance as you huddled closer to another man, looking up at him like he was your fucking savior, haunted him more and more with every team that passed through the door. and of course, it was every damn team but yours.

his tongue came out to swipe anxiously at his bottom lip before he caught it between his teeth, nibbling at it absent-mindedly as he fought the urge to get up and fucking scream.

and then—

the door opened its mouth yet again. he held his breath, waiting to see what it would spit out.

as if something up above had heard his silent, hesitant plea, you finally walked in a second later.

at the sight of you, his heart jumped, his whole body jolting with the instinct to move, to stand up, to go to you, to—

no.

he forced himself to relax, to exhale. his whole body locked up again as he slowly leaned back, like he hadn't just been seconds away from losing his mind.

as if to puncutate his thought process, the rest of your teammates followed, trailing behind you as they emerged from the door. nam-gyu felt his blood run cold, his whole body tightening as he watched him—that motherfucker—jog shamelessly to catch up with you. like he was your friend. like he had any business getting close to you. like he fucking knew you.

nam-gyu's eyes traced his every moment, eyes flicking between you and him. each time that his tiny ponytail bobbed, nam-gyu's rage only grew. he watched as he fell into an easy, casual step next to you, immediately grabbing your attention with a light tap to your shoulder. when you didn't shy away, didn't shrug it off, just let it rest there, nam-gyu's throat seized up. you looked up at him with relief, soft and gentle as you came down from the anxious nightmare that you'd all just walked out of. it made him sick, the way that you looked at him—this stranger, this intruder—with something almost akin to familiarity, as if he wasn't just some random guy that you'd only teamed up with because he just so happened to be the convenient choice. as if nam-gyu wasn't sitting right fucking there just across the room, basically begging you, daring you to acknowledge him.

he swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against his lap as he forced himself to exhale, to lean back like he wasn't barely resisting the urge to walk right up and rip you away from that loser.

he made sure to overcompensate. because he was fine. really, he was fine. and it had nothing to do with you, of course.

"fuck, way too many are still alive," nam-gyu huffed, forcing the sentence out as he let his head loll back lazily. he leaned further into the steps. his heart was still racing, fingers still twitching against his leg as he tried to appear casual.

but he was still watching.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way your shoulders were still tense, just slightly, but enough for him to catch. he saw the way you kept your gaze forward, rigid and stiff, like you didn't want to run the risk of accidentally looking at him.

and god—it pissed him off.

after he watched your back retreat into the bunks along with your team, he turned to his own teammate, min-su, the small one who'd played gonggi, pasuing for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak again.

he was fine.

and you were fine, too. like he gave a shit.

"hey. yo."

min-su's eyes snapped up to look at him as he hesitantly uncurled himself from his protective stance. he looked at him expectantly, movements uncertain and skittish.

"how many do you think are left?"

min-su blinked. "sorry?"

"i'm asking you, how many roaches do you think we have left in here?" he leaned forward, a sickly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he pushed the words out, slow and gentle, as if he was speaking to a child.

he needed to regain his composure, needed to relax. the color was slowly returning to his face. he watched min-su bumble around, eyes searching the room as if calculating the number in his head.

across the room, your voice suddenly rose up above the rest. nam-gyu snapped to attention, mouth going slack. he pretended not to notice, pretended that he hadn't been listening for it this whole time.

he watched min-su's mouth move in response to his question, but he could barely hear him, now too busy trying to catch your words.

after a brief exchange, you'd come to know all of their names. gi-hun, jung-bae, young-il, and—the one that took you in—dae-ho. according to him, it meant "big tiger." cute.

"and you?" dae-ho asked, an expectant smile on his face that contrasted the tension permeating the room.

you said your name, and he repeated it back to you, nodding slowly as if he was committing it to memory.

"well, it's very nice to meet you. let's continue do our best," he said, a determined fist clenching in front of him as he turned to make eye contact with the whole team.

you hoped that even a fraction of his optimism would rub off on you.

during the brief conversation, you'd also learned that dae-ho was the only son for two generations and that it'd been his father's idea for him to join the marines. it felt nice, getting to know them. it made you feel a little less scared, like you had people you could rely on.

they all congratulated each other for their successful performance in the game, including you. your face flushed with the praise, a feeling of security falling over you like a blanket. you hoped it would last.

the pleasant exchange was interrupted by the sound of a loud, mechanical beep as the large door at the front of the room slid open. a group of guards stepped through, standing stiff and tall as they regarded everyone from their elevated position on the platform.

"congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game," the square guard spoke, their voice void of any emotion. "here are the results of the second game."

the guard raised an arm to the ceiling and clicked a button. the room darkened, the only light coming from the now-lit piggybank hanging from the ceiling. it cast a warm glow over the cold, sterile room, highlighting the shadows in everyone's face, the bags under their eyes. you watched with bated breath as money continued to drop in, your eyes widening as the digital jingle played in time with the numbers flashing on the main screen, the value climbing higher and higher.

"in the second game, 110 players were eliminated." the guard continued, explaining the new sum that would be split between the remaining players.

your chest tightened, something guilty and cold taking root in your heart as you processed the numbers laid out plainly for you to see. you made fists in the fabric of your sweats. it wasn't enough. not nearly enough. your mouth went dry as you listened to other players voice their anger and disbelief around you.

the square guard acknowledged their frustration, though they didn't dwell on it, pushing forward as they continue to speak, "you will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not."

a hushed murmur buzzed through the crowd as everyone discussed with their respective teams and the loose alliances they'd formed over the past two days.

had it really only been two days? you felt like you'd been here for ages.

the guards wheeled out the voting booth once again. you picked at your nails, swallowed around the lump in your throat, and in an instant, just like before, you had your answer.

after a collective moment of silent deliberation, dae-ho spoke behind you, "i'm telling you. we'll get out this time." you turned to look at him, at the way he huffed in frustration, gripping the blue patch on his chest before letting it fall from his hands, staring at it like it'd personally offended him. "damn it. a marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." his voice was confident, so matter-of-fact, like nothing could change his mind.

in front of him, you felt the cold trickle of guilt run down your spine. because you knew exactly what you were going to do. you had to.

you whispered something to yourself, adding up the numbers in your head over and over again as if it'd somehow change the reality that no matter what, it just wouldn't be enough. you'd almost died twice, and it still wouldn't mean a thing if you stopped now. next to you, jung-bae did the same.

"we have to end the games here." gi-hun nodded at all of you, like he needed you all to understand. "i will help you guys out when we get out. please. trust me and support this vote." his voice was firm. a promise.

"guys, all huddle up again," dae-ho said, nodding next to you with a bright, expectant smile spread across his face. the sight made you nauseous. he stuck his arm out in the center of your circle, his eyes flicking between you and jung-bae expectantly, a determined glimmer in his eyes.

he hesitated, as did you. you saw. the two of you exchanged a look that the others didn't seem to catch, but nonetheless, you both put your hands in the circle at the same time, your mouth going dry as you failed to return dae-ho's enthusiasm.

he perked up as the final hand entered the middle of the huddle. "in 1, 2, 3..." he pushed your hands up in the air with a flourish. "victory at all costs!"

you swallowed as you let your hand fall limply to your side, staring intently at the floor. the gesture was cute, reassuring, but you knew damn well that it'd done absolutely nothing to change your mind.

unfortunately for you, you were the second one out of your team who was called up to place your vote. you followed young-il, who had voted to leave.

your whole team watched your back expectantly, as did nam-gyu. he was standing at the back of the room, waiting patiently for his turn, his whole body taut and rife with tension.

after only a moment's hestiation, you decided to just rip the bandaid off. you slammed the 'o' button quickly, as if doing it fast enough would prevent your team from seeing your betrayal.

you sucked in a breath as your face lit up with a flash of blue. you shrunk away from the voting booth in shame, retreating sheepishly towards the 'o' side. you couldn't bring yourself to look at the others.

watching you from just a few feet away, nam-gyu let out a shuddery breath, almost amused. it turned out that you hadn't been completely brainwashed by your team, after all.

his turn came and went. he hit the 'o' button without another thought, staring you down the whole time as he walked over and took his position with the others that'd voted to continue. you held his gaze for a few seconds before turning away, suddenly annoyed at the fact that whether you liked it or not, the two of you had agreed on something.

soon enough, the vote had ended.

"based on the majority vote, we'll proceed to the third game tomorrow," the guard announced.

the dormitory was quiet, the atmosphere heavier than before, weighed down by the betrayal displayed through the patch on your chest. the food in your hands didn't really help despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach. you toed at the ground with your shoe, feeling ashamed. but you couldn't go home. not with that money. it wouldn't have made a dent.

your own arguments died on your tongue as you looked up from the floor, chancing a glance over your shoulder where the others were eating. dae-ho caught your eyes. he'd already been looking at you, at jung-bae. you quickly snapped your head back into place. heat rose to your cheeks as you clenched your fists in your lap.

next to you, jung-bae cleared his throat. "you voted to stay, right?"

you nodded stiffly, flicking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. "yeah."

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. "same."

no one else spoke.

you turned to steal another glance at dae-ho, but in that moment, he was already stomping over to the both of you, catching you in the act again.

he called out your names, a hint of frustration in his voice as he regarded the two of you. "hey. just come sit with us already."

"no, really, i'm fine right here," jung-bae mumbled. you could tell he wasn't.

"me too," you added weakly.

"oh, come on."

you watched as dae-ho practically hauled jung-bae to his feet, forcing him up before pushing him forward, not like he was putting up much of a fight.

then, dae-ho looked at you, his expression unreadable. you thought you saw a hint of disappointment there, and it made your chest sting.

then, there was a gentle hand at your side, tugging lightly at your sleeve and signalling you to get up.

"dae-ho," you sighed, feeling guilty for saying his name after what you did. "i'd really rather just sit right here."

jung-bae nodded quickly in agreement, but dae-ho continued to push him forward.

"then you two should've sat further away," he huffed.

dae-ho led jung-bae away, depositing him by the others roughly.

"it bugs me to see you sitting there so pathetically!" he said again, pausing for just a moment before he turned back to retrieve you.

his footsteps were softer as he approached for the second time, and your mouth was already forming an apology when he squatted down next to you.

he put up a hand, waving you off. "don't. it's okay," he sighed, as if he was already anticipating what you were going to say. he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. his touch was light as he patted you. "to be honest with you—the both of you—i, um. i get why you did it."

you let out a shaky breath, the guilt still weighing heavy in your chest.

when you didn't respond, he cleared his throat, lips tight as he stared at the ground in front of you. "the money wasn't enough for you, right?"

you nodded dumbly. "yeah."

you saw him nod back gently in your periphery. "the money isn't enough for me either, so when i went up to vote," he paused, his expression tight and laced with guilt as he put up a finger, "i did think about playing one more game."

you turned to him, finally letting yourself meet his eyes. slowly, you nodded back to him, thankful for his understanding, for his sensitivity, as he regarded you.

he stared back at you softly, and it made you feel warm, his comfort coming with a gentle ease. you gave him a smile, and he returned it, the moment passing between the two of you fondly. on your shoulder, he finally let the weight of his hand rest fully onto you. he gave you a reassuring squeeze that made your heart jump a little.

"i'm not sure what your situation is," he put his his hands up in the air at that, "and, of course, you don't have to tell me. i won't pry. but no matter what happens in the next game—or, uh, if there's any games after that—just... know that we'll be here for you to lean on. we'll all lean on each other as a team, and then we'll get through this, okay?"

you exhaled sharply through your nose, taking in the sincerity of his words before you responded, "thank you. really. thank you." something in you wanted to reach out and hug him. "thank you for understanding."

dae-ho opened his mouth to respond, to reassure you that there was nothing to thank him for, but then—

"hey!" jung-bae called from behind the two of you, his arms crossed grumpily when you both turned to look at him. "where's my comfort? i voted to continue, too, you know!"

behind him, gi-hun and young-il were huddled together, tight-lipped and faces blank as they watched the three of you. you felt yourself clam up again, the guilt creeping back in under the weight of their stare, under the knowledge that they'd taken you in so kindly, and you betrayed them.

dae-ho cleared his throat again, patting you once more as he rose to his feet. "come on," he said softly, the moment lost as he gestured for you to stand.

he held out a hand, and you took it, rising slowly to your feet as you steeled yourself to face the others. you hesitated, but then dae-ho's hand was pressing gently at the middle of your back, pushing you forward so you couldn't change your mind.

he leaned down so he was next to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "hey. the two of them might look mad right now, but i know they'll understand." he pressed his lips together as you finally stepped forward. "i'm here, too, okay?" he added quickly. "don't forget what i said. we're a team."

"thanks, dae-ho," you whispered back.

he smiled. "anytime."

you let dae-ho lead you to them, his hand finally dropping from your back as you came to a stop in front of the rest of your team. you regarded them with a duck of your head and quick apology.

soon, all of you were sitting next to each other again, the five of you silent as the group reestablished itself. you picked at your bread, not quite ready to eat. instead, you watched the back of dae-ho's head as he chewed, a small fondness blooming in your chest at your newfound friend.

nam-gyu watched the entire interaction from across the room, jaw clenched so tight that he might crack a tooth. his eyes were wide and unblinking, almost burning with the intensity that he was staring the two of you down with.

his fingers tapped against his knee, sharp, restless movements, a stark contrast to the relaxed slouch he was forcing himself into.

what the fuck was that?

his eyes burned as they stayed locked onto you and dae-ho. he watched you as you finally opened up your bread, chewing slowly. in front of you, dae-ho seemed to remember something before turning around and catching your attention.

he spoke. you laughed. a real laugh, not a forced one. and he saw it, the way that you leaned in just slightly, like you actually gave a shit about what he said, the way dae-ho had looked at you—was still looking at you—like you were someone he wanted to protect.

his hand on your shoulder. on your back. his face pressed right next to yours as he whispered something, low and inaudible.

it was unbearable.

it was fucking humiliating.

and yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

even now, you still hadn't made an attempt to search the room, to try and find him in the crowd.

she was mine.

the thought bubbled to the surface before he could stop it, before he could squish it down and pretend that this didn't matter, that you didn't matter.

he hated how pathetic the thought sounded, wincing at it even though it only existed in the privacy of his own head.

still, it wasn't wrong. you had been his. he'd been yours. maybe he still was. and now? now you were sitting next to some random guy, talking, laughing, staring down at him like nam-gyu never even existed.

and the worst part? he couldn't do shit about it.

not in front of all these people.

not when he was supposed to be acting like he didn't care.

from here, he was able to get the full view of your team. and of course, just his luck, the guy that'd shut down thanos, that'd kicked him to the ground in front of everyone—in front of you—was sitting at the very back of the group, like some kind of guard dog.

his fingers curled into fists.

"oi, nam-su," a voice interrupted.

he barely registered it at first, but then thanos clapped a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

nam-gyu forced himself to glance up, schooling his face into something neutral, so lost and disoriented from the sickening display before him that he didn't even notice that thanos had fucked up his name. again. "huh?"

thanos was looking at him like he'd been talking for a while. "you even listening? i said mg coin's full of shit."

nam-gyu followed his gaze. mg coin—myung-gi—whatever, was sitting with his own team, laughing about something.

thanos sneered. "look at him. laughing like he has the right to. like he didn't fuck me over." he nodded at nam-gyu, eyes lingering on myung-gi before finally turning to him. "let's jump him," he muttered. "but not when that fucker's looking." he looked up again, gesturing with his chin across the room. nam-gyu turned, eyes landing on your corner yet again, at the old man that'd stopped them the first time they tried to get back at myung-gi.

nam-gyu just nodded absently, his mind still somewhere else.

it took a moment to realize something, his eyes drifting back down to dae-ho—this was the perfect opportunity.

if he could get thanos on his side, maybe he could get rid of dae-ho, break him down and convince him to stay the fuck away from you. he wasn't sure exactly how he'd do it, but it was a start. two people were always going to be better than one.

he straightened, his gaze darkening as he leaned forward, scooting closer to thanos.

"hey," he said, tone casual. "you know that guy in front of him? the one with the ponytail who's choking down his bread like a pig?" nam-gyu gestured with his neck, maintaining eye contact with thanos.

thanos raised a brow, eyes flicking down to nam-gyu and then back up again. "what about him?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head and forcing some frustration in his voice. "he's annoying as hell. i was listening to him earlier when he was talking to his team. looks like he's all buddy-buddy with those old guys." he nibbled his lip, trying to figure out how he could spin this, how he could get thanos to hate him, too. "including the one that was giving you shit earlier." thanos narrowed his eyes at that, showing that he was listening but not exactly following. "the dude thinks he's hot shit just because he was in the fucking marines, or whatever."

thanos hummed in acknowledgement, unimpressed. "yeah? so?"

nam-gyu floundered, wires crossing in his brain. he was losing him. he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear, a last ditch effort. "i don't trust him. he's always trying to act all high and mighty, all noble and shit, like he's better than us. like he's not just as fucked as we are."

thanos didn't look convinced. he shrugged, leaning back against the bed rail. in that moment, nam-gyu knew he lost him.

"he's just some guy. who cares?" thanos turned his head in dismissal, his gaze straying to myung-gi yet again. nam-gyu watched his face shift into something hateful and mean.

the sentiment was right, but it was aimed at the wrong target.

nam-gyu grit his teeth, fingers twitching against his knee.

he wanted thanos to fucking care.

wanted thanos to hate dae-ho as much as he suddenly, violently, and irrationally did.

but thanos wasn't biting.

his focus was elsewhere—on myung-gi, on his own anger, his own grudges. sure, nam-gyu was pissed at myung-gi, too, hated him, even, but at least myung-gi wasn't out here whispering in your ear, staring at you all sweet and kind, acting like he had the right to touch you. the thought made his blood boil all over again.

one last attempt rose from his lips like a signal flare. it sounded stupid in his head, but he had to try.

"he said your hair was stupid," nam-gyu blurted out. his voice was at a normal volume this time, and the rest of his team looked over, confused.

at that, thanos's head snapped back, his eyebrows going up again. "he did?"

nam-gyu nodded wildly. "yeah, yeah, he did. he was laughing with that old dude, and everything." after a pause, he quickly added, "when you weren't listening, i heard it. they were all making fun of you, that guy especially. i would've said something, but—"

thanos silenced him with a hand, and for a moment, it just hung in the air. nam-gyu held his breath. then, both of his hands came up to frame both sides of his hair, fingers going up to shape the purple strands back up into place, like little horns.

"no one," he started, a little frown coming to tug at his lips, "makes fun of thanos the great's hair."

holy shit.

nam-gyu bit back a smile, trying not to seem as excited as he was. "yeah, i agree." he gestured with his head again, his hair whipping around his face with the wild, sudden movement. "wanna jump him, too?"

thanos brushed him off, still fixing his hair. maybe he'd pushed just a bit too far just a bit too soon.

"relax, nam-su." he was still watching myung-gi out of the corner of his eye, neck flexing tight with tension once again at the mere sight of him. "i've got some other shit to worry about, right now."

"nam-gyu," he muttered.

it looked like he had no choice but to drop it. for now.

but his mind was already racing, already plotting.

he didn't know how yet, didn't know when—but he was gonna get you away from dae-ho. one way or another.

the men's bathroom was full, accompanied by the expected din of streams hitting porcelain, stall doors slamming shut, and toilets flushing. a little pocket of normalcy amidst the chaos.

myung-gi stared down, concentrated on his task. then, he felt it.

a presence.

three, actually.

he barely had time to register the movement before thanos and nam-gyu stepped in on either side of him, boxing him in at the urinal. behind him, gyeong-su stood with his arms at his sides, silent and uncertain, but still present.

myung-gi pressed his lips together tightly, the air suddenly turning suffocating.

it didn't take much guessing to know where this interaction was going to go. there was an exchange of words, of uncomfortable stares, of barely disguised aggression—mostly on thanos's part—and then, finally, in a sudden burst of anger, thanos was slamming myung-gi against the tile, his other arm reeled back and ready to go.

"you son of a bitch. got a death wish?"

nam-gyu watched it happen from a distance, a little bit of his earlier frustration slipping away at the sight of myung-gi getting tormented.

then, as if on cue, the entrance to the bathroom opened, and—of fucking course. he was there.

a tiny little ponytail bobbed into view, perched perfectly at the top of his head.

nam-gyu's eye twitched.

"i didn't even eat anything, so why..." jung-bae trailed off, young-il and dae-ho following behind him.

thanos stopped, eyes instantly locking with young-il's. the latter regarded him sternly. a silent challenge. thanos was an absolute moron, sure, but he knew when to call it quits.

he stood there for a few moments, gripping myung-gi with a tightness that said this wasn't over, eyes glaring daggers into his face one last time before shoving him back. his body jerked, but he held thanos's gaze, chest heaving as he watched him turn away.

"i'm watching you," thanos muttered in english, lips tight with anger.

nam-gyu lingered for a moment as he watched the exchange, unwilling to move just yet.

his eyes flitted right to dae-ho, to the way he was staring at him and thanos, like they were beneath him. like they were scum. like he was gonna fucking do something about it.

thanos took a few casual step forward, retreating. then, he paused, eyes landing on dae-ho. his mind buffered for a moment, as if recalling something.

there was a flash of recognition as his peanut brain grasped at a memory, at what nam-gyu had said less than thirty minutes ago. at that, he leaned backwards just slightly, giving himself enough space to size dae-ho up with a lazy flick of his eyes. their heights were matched, perfectly at eye level with each other.

in front of him, dae-ho straightened, standing up just a little taller, as if anticipating a fight. jung-bae and young-il watched, eyes narrowed and muscles taut, unsure of what to expect in the coming moments.

then—

"tch," thanos clicked his tongue, cutting through the tension. he regarded dae-ho with a flippant look as he tilted his head, unimpressed. "so. you're the one whose got some shit to say about my hair, huh?"

dae-ho balked, confusion leaking into his expression. the others looked just as confused, save for nam-gyu. whatever they all thought thanos was going to say, it definitely wasn't that.

the silence stretched for a few beats too long, and it struck dae-ho that it was his turn to speak, but he wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

his voice came out awkward, the tension that'd been simmering in his muscles just moments before fizzling out with nowhere to go. "um... no?"

"you think you can switch up the story now that i'm standing right in front of you?" thanos shook his head, his jaw tight and indignant as he pointed over to nam-gyu and gyeong-su. at that, nam-gyu tensed, exchanging a look with dae-ho for the first time ever. caught in a lie. he hadn't expected thanos to supply dae-ho with a source. "my bro told me everything, so don't even try it." he scoffed. "do you know who i am, man?" he pressed closer into dae-ho's space, but dae-ho didn't tense, just glanced between them incredulously, like they'd suddenly grown an extra head.

to nam-gyu's left, gyeong-su decided to speak for the first time in this whole bathroom exchange, answering the question for dae-ho. "he's thanos, the rapper!" his voice went up a few octaves at the opportunity, almost excited as he moved his hands and started to rap for the second time that day. "i'm gonna kill half of humanity with my raps—"

nam-gyu quickly silenced him—again—with a quick tap to the shoulder.

thanos paid them no mind, just shook his head as he narrowed his eyes at dae-ho, judging him. his hand came up to quickly flick at a flyaway strand of hair by dae-ho's brow, making him flinch just slightly, though it was out of surprise rather than fear.

"sloppy," thanos said in english. "worry about yourself before you say anything about me." then, after a a moment, he pointed at him, a ringed finger waggling just inches away from his face. "i'm watching you, too."

then, without another word, he pushed his way through the door.

nam-gyu watched him go. it was his cue to leave, too. he walked over, forcing his back up straighter, trying to appear bigger and taller than he really was. he locked eyes with dae-ho, a sneer plastered across his face, a clear display of his hatred. there was no hiding it now, anyways, what with the way thanos had outed him as a liar that made shit up for his own gain.

dae-ho narrowed his eyes in confusion, opened his mouth as if to speak, to question where the hell this was all coming from.

nam-gyu hated it, the way he was looking at him, the way he'd been looking at you, and most of all, fuck, he hated that stupid. fucking. ponytail.

he bet that dae-ho thought it was cute, too, thought he was so fucking different.

big fucking deal.

he wasn't special. nam-gyu's hair was long enough to put into a ponytail, too. not like you'd ever fucking asked him to. but he would. all you had to do was ask.

but you were too busy drooling over dae-ho to do so.

and somehow, despite it all, despite all the things that'd been piling up throughout the day, simmering just beneath the surface and boiling his blood, that was the thought that really sent him over the edge. it was irrational, stupid, pathetic, really, just how jealous he was over absolutely nothing.

just before dae-ho could speak, nam-gyu made sure to shove into him—hard.

the impact was enough to send dae-ho stumbling, his back hitting the wall with an audible thump.

for a moment, the bathroom went completely still.

dae-ho blinked, his expression shocked, like he wasnt' sure if that really just happened.

nam-gyu didn't stop to look back.

he just walked out, feeling a sick, burning satisfaction settling deep in his chest. gyeong-su trailed quickly after him, eager to catch up to thanos, a confused, shocked expression on his face that mirrored dae-ho's perfectly.

dae-ho stayed against the wall for a second, like he was still processing it. the weight of nam-gyu's deliberate shove lingered on his chest, not physically painful but unmistakably intentional.

and earlier—thanos had accused dae-ho of insulting him, said he'd heard it from his 'bro.' based on nam-gyu and gyeong-su's body language, it was pretty easy for him to deduce who thanos had been referring to.

but... why?

next to him, jung-bae frowned. "what the hell was that about?"

dae-ho shook his head, straightening up as he brushed himself off. his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was working through the instinct to retaliate. "i don't know," he muttered. "guess he just doesn't like me."

myung-gi, still standing in front of them, watched the door where nam-gyu and thanos disappeared, though he didn't say anything.

"are those guys still bullying you?" jung-bae asked.

"hey," dae-ho started, pushing forward so he was right in front of myung-gi. "if those guys keep doing that, you can ask us for our help." clearly, they'd even decided to start bullying him, too.

"i'm fine," he replied, eyebrows going up before he turned away.

and just like that, it ended, the former excitement simmering down slowly. the crowd slowly dispersed, and soon the normal bathroom activites continued, acclimating around the sudden interruption.

dae-ho stood at a urinal, mind still reeling from confusion, from frustration. what the hell had he done to those guys? he knew he should let it go—ignore it, not let them get under his skin. but the way nam-gyu had clearly lied to thanos to stir something up, the way he'd looked at him before shoving him with nothing but sheer bitterness in his eyes—it was too much for him to pass off as random.

it was personal.

and dae-ho had no idea why.

meanwhile, nam-gyu walked ahead of gyeong-su, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling and uncurling around nothing as he made his way back to the rest of their team.

he glanced over to your corner for just a second.

you saw him. he saw you.

his lips twitched just a fraction before he sat down, forcing himself to look at the ground.

when dae-ho emerged from the bathroom, his mind was still reeling with unresolved tension. he walked up to you and gi-hun, young-il and jung-bae in tow.

he was still thinking about it.

you looked up at him with a polite smile. "hey."

"hey," he returned, sounding far away.

you blinked, confused by his sudden shift in demeanor. "you okay?"

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he brushed back a strand—the same strand that thanos had flicked just moments earlier.

"actually," he started, turning to look at nam-gyu. he leaned towards you, taking his seat before dropping his voice to a whisper. "that guy, right there."

dae-ho pointed gingerly, careful not to be too obvious. your eyes traced the path of his finger, breath catching as you realized who he was referring to.

your stomach clenched. what did he do?

he waited for your acknowledgement. when it didn't come, he continued, "uh, the guy with the long hair, mean face, 124 on his shirt—"

"yeah," you mumbled, waving him along. "i see him."

dae-ho nodded, though you didn't see, too focused on nam-gyu. he was slouched over by his team, arms crossed casually as he leaned back against the steps.

"i think he's got something against me." he gestured with his chin, his voice wary. "his friend, too. the rapper guy."

"uh-huh."

dae-ho shook his head, throwing his hands up in frustration. "i've never even talked to them. i don't know what the hell i did to make them hate me." he turned to you. "124... do you know his name?"

"nam-gyu." his name instantly fell from your lips before you could stop it, before you could feign ignorance. you quickly recovered. "or. that's... what i've heard," you mumbled. "i'm pretty sure that's his name, though."

dae-ho nodded. if he noticed your sudden unease, he didn't say anything. "nam-gyu," he repeated, eyes narrowing as he stared at him.

you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual, like you were just curious. nothing more. you brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth before you spoke. "so, uh. what'd he do?"

"he shoved me. for no reason! i didn't even say anything." dae-ho shook his head, remembering. he continued, "and apparently he told his friend that i made fun of his hair." you raised an eyebrow at that. "i would never make fun of his hair. i mean, my older sister colored hers purple two years ago." dae-ho clicked his tongue, brows furrowing as he pouted. "i thought it looked cool."

you were thankful for the hand covering your mouth, because as soon as he finished, you were struggling to bite back a laugh.

despite how well he seemed to hide it, how well he seemed to pretend that he didn't care, nam-gyu was watching you. watching him. sitting there, stewing in silent anger, even if he wouldn't let it show.

even after all this time.

what a petty asshole.

and the fact that a small part of you liked it—knowing that he still cared enough about you to do childish shit like this? oh, it made you sick.

the room eventually settled into an uneasy quiet as the guards ordered the players to prepare for sleep.

soon enough, the overhead lights dimmed, leaving a faint, eerie glow behind.

time passed. minutes stretched into an hour.

you stared up at the bottom of the bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones, but sleep still didn't come easy. gi-hun had insisted all of you sleep this way, beneath a bed and behind a fortress of mattresses. someone always had to be keeping watch.

you were busy thinking about how silly it seemed when it suddenly struck you—you really, really needed to pee.

lucky you.

you shifted uncomfortably, trying to will the feeling away.

when you failed to do so, you let out a sigh of defeat before pushing yourself up by your elbows. you peered over from under your bed. it was dae-ho’s turn to watch. you still didn’t understand why it was necessary, but you decided not to question it.

you quietly got up, gently tapping dae-ho on the shoulder so as not to startle him.

he looked up at you, a bit surprised. the sharpness of his cheekbones highlighted by the dim glow of the piggy bank.

“going to the bathroom,” you whispered, mouthing the words more than anything.

“oh, uh, let me accompany you—“ dae-ho made a move to stand up, but you stopped him.

“no, it’s okay.” you smiled. “thank you, though.” you didn’t want to bother him.

he paused, searching your face with uncertainty, like he was debating whether or not it was really 'okay'. “are you sure? it could be dangerous walking around alone right now. i don't think it's safe for you to go alone.”

“please, don't worry. i’m sure." you were certain you could, at the very least, handle a trip to the bathroom, though you definitely appreciated the gesture.

after a pause, he nodded, albeit still hesitant. "okay. be careful."

you laughed lightly. "sure. i'll try not to drown in the toilet."

that earned you a soft, sheepish smile, but after a moment, dae-ho furrowed his brows, showing you that he still meant it. "come on, i'm serious. gi-hun seemed serious about all of this." he gestured around at the mattresses boxing your team in.

you waved him off. "i'll be careful."

he finally let you go. slowly, you made your way to the door, not wanting to disturb the other players.

you knocked gently on the door. when no response came, you knocked again, more forceful this time, though you winced with each sound.

finally, you came face-to-face with a guard.

“i need to go to the bathroom.”

the black mask stared wordlessly back at you. as the silence stretched on for too long, you felt a prickle of anxiety.

there was no way they weren’t going to let you go to the bathroom, right?

your question was promptly answered with a smooth click as the guard slid the peephole shut. you stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide with indignance. a beat or two passed, just enough time for your anger to build. all discretions gone, you exhaled sharply and banged on the door, no longer wincing with every loud sound that echoed through the dormitory.

you could’ve died twice.

you weren't about to let them bully you into fucking pissing yourself.

“hey, what the hell?” your voice rose, tinged with anger and disbelief. “are you just gonna leave me out here?” once again, the only answer to your disdain was an oppressive silence. “fuck.” you hissed under your breath, your body shaking with barely contained anger. “fine. if you won’t let me go to the bathroom, i guess I’ll just do it out here—“

when the door suddenly slid open, you flinched, stunned for a moment as the blinding light flooded your vision. it seemed that your comment had gotten to the guard, after all. you recovered quickly and smiled at the expressionless black mask staring back at you, feeling more than a little triumphant. you moved quickly, feet crossing the threshold with your nose in the air.

you climbed the stairs quickly, desperate to get in and out.

the entrance to the women's bathroom came into view, and you let out an audible sigh as you pushed through.

you were barely through the door when you felt it—a sudden rush of contact at your back as you were practically shoved inside. you stumbled, gasping as a cold hand gripped at the back of your tracksuit.

your heart raced, sweat prickling the back of your neck as panic bloomed in your chest. you had been careful not to piss anyone off. you hadn’t talked to anyone outside of your team, really. there was no one who had a reason to be shoving you like this, to be following you. no one except—

you whipped around quickly, jerking out of the person’s hold and stumbling a bit as you struggled to keep your balance in light of the sudden unease overtaking your system.

you opened your mouth to speak, to yell, but everything you might’ve thought to say immediately died on your tongue.

nam-gyu’s eyes were intense, filled with a swirl of emotions as he fixed you with a hardened stare. his breathing was measured and even, hands hanging casually at his sides.

“hey.”

his voice was rough, gravelly. deep. a sound that cut right through you and settled into your bones. and for the first time in forever, his words were directed at you. not overheard from a distance or relayed through a third party. it was just you and him in this shitty bathroom in the middle of god knows where.

your mind went blank, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth as you stared at him, lips slightly parted as you struggled to form thoughts.

“what?” his mouth twitched. almost a smirk, almost a sneer, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting to betray his emotions just yet. “not gonna say hi?” you saw his fingers curl and uncurl around nothing at his sides. he'd never been good at staying still for too long.

he was right, though.

you weren’t gonna fucking say ‘hi.’

ao3 link, if you’d prefer to read it over there

a/n: part two coming (hopefully) soon. as always my inbox is open for any thoughts, comments, rqs, etc.!!!! also, i was going nuts watching episode 4 and 5 over and over again so i could get the canon interactions and dialogue right LMAO. also. in-ho is referred to as young-il in this fic and will continue to be, bc he's just not really relevant to the plot and ik y'all know who he really is ok....

#nam-gyu x reader #namgyu x reader #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #squid game x reader #my fic #lilyposting

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melercies · 3 months ago

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pairing(s): thanos x (slightly implied fem reader, but gender-neutral pronouns) x nam-gyu (separately + together)

warning(s): shower sex/smut [minors dni], dirty talk, gender-neutral pronouns, physical/psychological intensity, tension and coercion, rough handling, dubious consent, lowercase usage is intended, and my best interpretation of the two characters.

author's note: can we please talk about as to why thanos chest moved like that in the gif after he chest bumped nam-gyu. LIKE WHAT. otherwise, i was holding back myself from losing my sanity writing this. I WAS GIGGLING. please let me know if i missed anything! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated!

Showering with Nam-gyu... he isn't the type to voluntarily suggest showering together. he's too prideful, too rigid in his own habits. if you try to invite him, expect resistance—he'll scoff, wave you off, maybe even sneer, "what, you think i can't wash myself?" but if you're persistent—or if he's in a vulnerable state, exhausted or frustrated—he might begrudgingly accept.

the moment he's in there with you, though, everything shifts. he doesn't like feeling exposed, so he overcompensates—gripping your wrist a little too firmly as he takes the soap from your hand, washing you instead. his touch is rougher than necessary, his jaw tight. he's testing you, seeing if you'll let him take over completely.

nam-gyu has his moments—brief moments—where he lets his guard slip just for a little bit. if you turn around and gently wash his back, he stiffens, like he doesn't know how to react. but he won't stop you. he won't say anything, but the way he stands still, the way his breath comes a little slower, tells you more than words ever could.

after you guys get out of the shower, he dries off quickly, efficiently even—wrapping the towel around his waist, avoiding eye contact, acting like nothing just happened. but if you grab a towel and start drying his hair for him? he grumbles at first, tries to shove you away, but if you're patient, he stops resisting. he won't admit it, but the warmth of your touch, the way you're taking care of him, gets to him.

Sex with Nam-gyu in the shower isn't romantic. it's raw, messy, and filled with frustration he won't ever admit. he doesn't do slow, drawn-out foreplay—his hands are rough, gripping you with a possessiveness that makes it clear this isn't about pleasure. it's about control.

you barely have time to register the heat of the water before he's pinning you to the cold tiles, his body pressing against yours, trapping you between the slick surface and his overwhelming presence. "you knew what you were doing when you pulled me in here," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. his tone is sharp, but beneath it, there's something hungrier, something dangerous.

he doesn't give you room to breathe. his hands roam your body like he owns it, dragging down your hips, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin as he pulls you closer. the cool metal of his rings bites against your heated skin, adding an extra sharpness to every touch, every possessive grip. there's nothing slow or teasing about the way he takes you—it's intense, unrelenting, a mix of frustration and something far more desperate he'd never admit.

the shower's heat made everything slicker, your skin was burning under his touch, water running down both of you in rivulets. his lips are at your neck, biting, sucking, marking—because he wants you to remember this, to feel it longer after you step out of the shower. his hands grip your waist, tilting you just the way he wants, and when he finally thrusts into you, it's without hesitation, without restraint. you cry out from the abrupt intrusion. he grits his teeth, eyes dark with something almost feral, his grip bruising.

he's relentless, every thrust punctuated with a sharp exhale, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you still. the rings on his fingers leave ghostly impressions on your wet skin, a reminder of how firmly he holds you, how thoroughly he's claiming you.

"look at you," he growls, voice thick with amusement and something darker. "already falling apart on me?" but there's something in his expression—something deeper than just the pleasure itself. it's possession. you're his, and he's making damn sure you know it. if you look away, he doesn't hesitate to grab your jaw and lock eyes. "don't look away, look at me while i ruin you, yeah?"

even when he finishes, he doesn't pull away immediately. his arms tighten around you, his chest rising and falling heavily, forehead resting against yours for just a moment—just enough to make your heart stutter. then, as if realizing what he's done, he pulls back, his hands sliding away almost reluctantly. "get cleaned up before the water gets cold." he sounds almost as if he doesn't care, but the way he lingers for a second too long tells you everything you need to know.

Showering with Thanos/Choi Su-Bong...thanos doesn't need to be asked twice. he's casual about it like it's the most natural thing in the world. he'll lean in the doorway, shirt already half-unbuttoned or taken off completely, watching you with that cocky, knowing smile. "water's already running. you coming or what?"

he's not rough like nam-gyu—he's intrusive and deliberate. he gets too close, under the pretense of helping. fingers brushing over your collarbone as he lathers soap onto your skin, lips ghosting your temple as he murmurs something about how good the water feels (and the view too). everything he does is slow, controlled, and meant to sink into you.

he's watching your every reaction, noting every small shift in your breathing, every flicker in your gaze. "you're tense," he'll say, dragging his hands down your arms. but the way he smirks? he likes that tension—like how he can pull at it, stretch it, toy with it practically.

he'll wash your hair too gently, his fingers massaging your scalp, whispering something about how you're so trusting. but there's always something unreadable in his voice. like he's seeing how far he can push, how much you'll let him get away with. "what if i just held you under for a second?" it's a joke—probably. but you feel the way his fingers tighten, just for a moment, before he lets go.

after you guys get out of the shower though, he actually takes his time drying off, watching you as he runs the towel over his arms, down his torso. there's always something suggestive in the way he moves, in the way he watches you. and if you're still standing there, a little shaken from the whole experience? he'll just chuckle, and tease you about it before tossing the towel over his shoulder and leaving you with a lingering, too-knowing smirk.

Sex with Thanos in the shower is an entirely different experience. where nam-gyu is rough, desperate, needing to assert control, thanos takes his time. or at least, he tries to. but patience? that's not really his strong suit.

the second you step under the water, he's already behind you, hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him like he's been starving for this. "think i can wait?" he mutters, his voice low, breath warm against your ear. "not a chance, sweetheart."

he's not gentle—he acts like he'll take his sweet time, but the second he feels your skin slick under his fingers, the temptation is too much. his hands roam over you, pressing soap into your skin, but his grip is firm, his fingers pressing into your thighs, your waist, your chest, everywhere at once.

"you're all wet for me already," he muses, his lips grazing your shoulder before he bites down just enough to make you shudder. his hand slides lower, between your legs, fingers teasing, rubbing slow circles—but only for a moment. because teasing? it's only fun for so long before he needs more.

when he finally thrusts into you, his grip tightens, one hand wrapping around your throat, the other pinning you against the glass wall of the shower. his pace is ruthless and deep, his voice a low growl against your ear. "you feel that?" he murmurs into your ear between rough thrusts. "taking me so well."

unlike nam-gyu, thanos doesn't pace himself—he loses himself in it, breathing hard, groaning your name as he ruins you under the scalding water. his impatience bleeds into every movement, his fingers digging into your skin, pulling you back against him with every sharp roll of his hips.

when he finally finishes, he doesn't even pretend to pull away. he keeps you pressed against him, breathless and spent, his lips dragging along your damp skin as he smirks. "told you i couldn't wait."

Showering with both Nam-gyu and Thanos/Choi Su-Bong? you seriously think showering with one of them was chaotic? try both. you're barely even in the water before they start their usual back-and-forth. "move over, dumbass, you're hogging all the water with how wide you are."—"this is all muscle! besides, maybe if you weren't so short, you wouldn't have to fight for it." meanwhile, you are just standing there, already regretting your life choices.

despite the bickering occasionally, they somehow effortlessly work together when it comes to messing with you. nam-gyu grabs the soap, rubbing it into your skin with just enough force to make it clear that his presence is still strongly there, while thanos watches with an infuriatingly smug expression. then, just as you're adjusting to nam-gyu's rougher touch, thanos steps in behind you, running his hands over the lathered skin nam-gyu worked over, softer but too slow, his voice dropping into something mockingly gentle. "is nam-su being too rough? let me fix that." "it's nam-gyu."

being in the shower with both of them means that the teasing will never stop. if you flinch when the water turns too hot, thanos hums, "sensitive, aren't they?" nam-gyu scoffs, "they're just weak." if you get flustered from the way they're both touching you, thanos leans in, lips ghosting your temple, "look at them, bro. they don't know what to do with themselves." nam-gyu only presents a shit-eating grin on his face, "pathetic. perhaps, we can fix that, hmmm?" and you? poor you was trying so hard not to combust in between the two males.

thanos pretends to be the more helpful one, offering to shampoo your hair like he's doing you a favor, but it's all a setup. he takes way too long, his fingers massaging your scalp in slow, circular motions, his breath warm against your neck. nam-gyu watches with narrowed eyes before stepping in and dumping way too much water over your head to rinse it out, "took too long," he mutters, but you know he did it on purpose.

the moment the shower is over, nam-gyu is out first, muttering under his breath about some things that happened during the shower. thanos, on the other hand, surprisingly, takes his time drying off with a smug expression as he watches you. he's obvious that he's clearly amused by how rattled you look. he leans in before leaving, whispering, "you should've known better than to get in with both of us."

you wanna know the worst part? they both act like nothing happened afterward—except for the occasional smirk from thanos and the side-eye from nam-gyu when you avoid looking at them. and if you get even slightly flustered thinking about it later? oh, they notice.

Having sex with both of them in the shower at once? like I've mentioned before, it was a mistake. a trap. you never stood a chance.

nam-gyu gets to you first, gripping your waist, and pulling you back against his chest. "you should've known better," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. "letting both of us in here?" his tone is sharp, laced with amusement, but his grip is firm.

thanos, standing in front of you, just smirks. his tilts your chin up, eyes gleaming with amusement. "i think they wanted this..look how eager they are." his fingers trail down your slick skin, teasing, ghosting lower but not quite touching where you need him to.

you barely have time to react before nam-gyu decides he's had enough of thanos's games. his hands tighten on your hips, tilting you exactly the way he wants, and he doesn't hesitate when he finally thrusts into you—rough, deep, making you gasp.

thanos is only amused by the little sounds you make, watching the way your body jolts. he steps closer, tilting your head back, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "let's see if you can handle both of us."

and from there, it's over for you.

one of them is relentless, unforgiving in his pace, making sure you feel every inch of him. the other is just as impatient, just desperate, and you're caught between them, drowning in the intensity of it all.

by the time they're done with you, the water is cold, your legs are shaking, and both of them look way too pleased with themselves.

and worst of all? they aren't going to let you live it down.

539 notes · View notes

leclerc-hs · 1 year ago

Text

capsize - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep.

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments.

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head.

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling.

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you bébé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?”

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes.

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.”

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire. His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth.

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you.

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence.

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made.

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside.

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh.

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber.

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected.

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear.

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly.

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor. He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you.

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf) Where are you? 18:45 You’re such a brat. 19:19 Really? You’re with Lando? 22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter? 22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer 01:27 You’re really testing my patience 01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing.

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest.

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him.

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.”

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste.

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry. His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don't wake the kids cl16 #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x you

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heavenlyvision · 1 year ago

Text

Bare

Word count: 9.3k

Pairing: Liu Kang x F!Reader

A/N: This is a bit different to my other works so far, at least it feels different! I am stoked about the people who encouraged me to write this!! You guys have been the kindest to interact with and really encourage me to keep writing <33 (P.S. If you're having trouble picturing the position in the smut scene, it’s pretty close to the full nelson, hopefully you can picture it with just my description though 😅😅)

Summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, you find yourself befriending a God and making his life more difficult, it’s just a bonus that he’s friendly, kind, and really hot.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, grinding, p in v sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, Liu Kang might be a little ooc and I am sorry but he’s hot and I had to write for him.

Living in the temple with Liu Kang is an odd feeling, you’ve been here for a while now, but you still feel out of place. Maybe because there isn’t any real reason that you’re here, you know he has plans and is a Fire God and something about a tournament with another realm, but you don’t fit in to any of that. You’re just some person he felt bad for after making friends with and is now allowing you to stay in his temple????

To be fair, he didn’t really befriend you, he asked if you were okay and then you held him verbally hostage. He looked friendly and so you started talking to him, something you would usually be too reserved to do. Having conversations with strangers isn’t something you’re in the habit of, and you especially don’t start them, but you’d had a series of unfortunate events happen to you in the course of a week and he looked nice. You think he was too polite to ask you to stop talking to him, but he eventually engaged in the conversation.

It was a little cafe not far from where you used to live, Liu Kang had been there by chance, he tells you now that there was something he had to take care of in that area, but he kept coming back after that first encounter. Every time you were there, he was also there, and he listened to you.

When you first met and spoke with Liu Kang you complained about how your partner broke up with you but actually he was cheating on you and had been for months, so you had to leave his apartment, which was originally yours before you were both on the lease. But you didn’t leave by choice, he locked you out and left your stuff in front of the building, which obviously, some of it was missing.

Whether he kept it or if some of it was taken by strangers you aren’t sure, but it sucks either way, you didn’t tell Liu Kang that last thing at the time though. Being kicked out of your own apartment and cheated on was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to know you were also robbed.

While visiting that café everyday hoping to see Liu Kang, your personal circumstances kept getting worse, you didn’t keep bombarding him with your issues though. He was nice and funny in a polite way, and he was becoming a friend to you. So, you didn’t say anything to him but the friend you had been staying with turned out to be who your partner was cheating on you with, so you had to rush to find another place to stay, which you managed. And things would’ve been okay from there if you hadn’t lost your job due to cutbacks in that same week, so not only were you living off your quickly depleting savings, you were also trying to find a job, while living in a shitty, tiny apartment, an apartment where, if you had all your furniture, you wouldn’t be able to see the floor.

The only thing you looked forward to were the afternoons in that café talking to and getting to know Liu Kang. It was unfortunate luck when your ex-friend and ex-partner walked in and saw you talking with him. They didn’t mind their own business, and that was how Liu Kang had found out how much worse things had gotten for you in the few months you had been meeting with him.

After he learned about the extent of things he brought up living with him at the temple, he said it would be more for him than for you, claiming to need help and that you were perfect for it. But you knew he didn’t really need any help; he’s a literal God and you’re just a person. So, you kept declining, he’d bring it up once a month and you would tell him no every month, determined to make things work for yourself.

But eventually, you were fed up with all the dead-end jobs and being dismissed after only a few weeks, you were looking down the barrel of eviction and you caved, asking Liu Kang for help. Something he was more than happy to provide.

It felt odd, making friends with a stranger, only to find out he was a God and then that God feeling so bad for you that he offers to make your life easier by letting you live with him at his temple. You can’t help but feel pitiful about giving up all your responsibilities and running away but there wasn’t anything left for you in that city.

Staying by Liu Kang’s side has introduced you to so much beauty, it’s expanded your small world, and you don’t feel even a little bit of regret for leaving, not anymore. Though you still feel out of place, your heart is at peace.

Currently, you’re drinking tea with Liu Kang, it’s something you two do every afternoon and it reminds you of the café. Even though he’s busy, he always has tea with you, every afternoon.

Conversing with him always starts the same way, you say something completely random or make an observation and he sighs at your inability to sit in silence for more than a minute at a time.

“You know, I think he still has my favourite book.” You say in reference to your ex.

There’s a book you owned, and it was a classic, not worth anything, but you had annotated it to high hell and the love you have for it is shown in your scribblings and all the sticky notes. It’s something you immediately noticed was missing but never said anything about.

He has a confused look on his face, “What? Why didn’t you ask for it back?”

“He’d just say that I lost it, or that it got stolen when he left my boxes outside the apartment,” You shrug at him.

“He… left your belongings… outside of the apartment, where strangers could rifle through them… and steal from you?” He questions, his tone is calm but the pauses in his sentence display contempt.

“Did I not tell you that?” You wonder.

He’s looking at you, eyes squinting, scrutinising you and trying to determine if you were purposefully keeping that from him, “No… you have not mentioned it.”

In all honesty, you thought you had already told him that. You aren’t trying to hide it anymore, it’s already done. You just feel a bit sad about your favourite book, you’ve been wanting to reread it lately and you like reading the notes you’ve made previously as you do.

“I was just thinking about the book, it was annotated,” you sigh.

“I can take you to go get it, if you’d like?” He offers.

“He probably won’t even admit to having it, let alone give it back but thank you.” You offer him a smile, he’s always so kind to you, a gentle God.

He considers you for a moment, “I have some books, if you’d like to read them.”

“I found your library months ago, read a bunch of them but it isn’t the same.” You appreciate his suggestion, but other books can’t compare.

He sips at his tea, before saying, “You’re picky.”

“No, it’s just that I cultivated that book with all my thoughts and feelings on the story and now it’s gone,” you huff out.

Liu Kang frowns a bit, thinking about your words, “I do not like him.”

“Neither,” you laugh, “You know, he wasn’t even worth it, never made me org–” you stop abruptly, realising what you were about to say… to a God, “Uhm what I actually mean is, he was a… bad partner, not… attentive?” It comes out like a question, but you aren’t asking anything.

He chuckles and shakes his head at you; he always seems to find you amusing, “That’s a shame,” he mutters.

You want to question him on what he means but he speaks again, “Why did you stay with him?”

“After a while, I felt… trapped,” you sigh, “He was kinder in the beginning of our relationship, but he grew colder, meaner, he didn’t talk to me… he didn’t like talking to me, always saying I talk too much,” you give him a wry smile.

He hums, “I like listening to you.”

You feel flush at his words, he does this sometimes, says something innocuous without realising how the kind words have you falling for him. But, it’s a feeling you don’t let yourself indulge in, for a number of reasons but mostly because you feel unremarkable compared to him. You feel small and your feelings feel unimportant, so you don’t entertain them, not wanting them to grow stronger with nowhere to put them down. He makes it hard though.

“I like talking to you,” you reply.

Relationships aren’t something you’ve had much success in, your only one that lasted longer than a couple weeks being the one where you lost your apartment, belongings, friend, etc etc.

“I sometimes wonder if he ever loved me,” you confess to Liu Kang.

You stayed out of obligation and convenience, leaving was too much effort, but why did he stay for so long, only to do what he did. Sometimes you feel sick thinking about it, because if he never showed you love then what does it look like? And are you capable of recognising it in someone else? In yourself?

He puts a hand on your shoulder, “I can hear you thinking from here, stop it.”

“You can hear thoughts??” You’re a little worried as you say it.

He restrains himself from rolling his eyes at you, “Not what I meant; I cannot actually hear your thoughts.”

“Oh thank god, don’t say things like that.” You place a hand over your beating heart.

“Why would I be able to read minds?” He queries.

“I dunno, you’re a God, you can’t say stuff like that, I’ll take you literally,”

He hums, “Noted.”

Both of you sit in the silence, normally you would say something else but for once you’re a little lost for words. Still wondering if you’ve ever been loved, properly. An ache fills your heart, and you aren’t really sure what it means.

Liu Kang’s grip squeezes on your shoulder, drawing your attention back to him, “If he never loved you, then he is a fool.”

And there it is again, something meant as comfort said so tenderly to you that your heart feels like it might implode.

“Thank you,” you say, hand coming up to rest on top of his.

He looks deep in thought for a moment, “I think you should learn self-defence.”

It’s abrupt, the way he brings it up, you pull your hand away and turn so you’re facing him properly, “Why?”

“I think I would feel better about you being a part of this world, if you could defend yourself.”

You consider his words, your lips pouting in thought, “I’d rather not.”

His response is to frown at you, “Why not?”

“I’d rather not, just ‘cause I don’t wanna have strangers train me or whatever, don’t like the idea of being touched by them,” you say it flippantly, waving a hand as you do.

You know he would want to take you to that academy or have someone specifically train you, but you aren’t fond of strangers, and you especially don’t like the idea of their hands positioning you and such, it’s a very uncomfortable idea.

Your face must be betraying how much you dislike the idea, “Stop making that face,” Liu Kang sighs.

“Sorry,” your face drops into a neutral expression, you hadn’t realised you were making one.

“Things are going to pick up soon, I would feel better if you’d consider it.”

You frown again, this time on purpose.

He looks into your eyes, it feels like he’s trying to stare you down, “That won’t work, I don’t like being touched,” you remark.

He raises a brow at you, “You let me touch you.”

You look away from him and mumble, “That’s different.”

“How?” He inquires.

How nosey of him, “It just is…” you shrug at him.

“What if I teach you self-defence?”

You look back to him, “Maybe.”

If you had a choice, you’d rather not be taught any kind of self-defence, but you guess if it’s Liu Kang teaching you, you could be amicable to that, eventually.

Both his brows raise, “Are you going to make this difficult for me?”

You repeat your previous answer, sly smile on your lips, “Maybe…”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s been almost a full week since that conversation with Liu Kang, you keep putting off training with him. He’s a patient man but you think you’re slowly chipping away at it. His concern for you growing the more you put it off.

You understand that things will be changing soon, with his champions and what not, but he keeps you fairly separate from all that anyways. You know of the Lin Kuei and their involvement, along with the brothers but you’ve not met them, and he’s not asked you to. So, you aren’t really sure why he’s become so caught up on getting you some kind of training.

It’s late in the evening and you’re walking to the library, which maybe you shouldn’t be, but you feel the need to read something. Get your mind off of everything that’s been happening. Maybe you’ll find a new favourite book and annotate that.

But because you have the luck of someone who’s broken a mirror every day, it starts bucketing down rain. Usually, you enjoy rainy weather and a good book, but this isn’t that. You’re walking the temple grounds one minute and the next you’re fully drenched, down to the bone. Clothes soggy, shoes filled with water, and to top it off, the torrential downpour is making your visibility awful. You can’t make heads or tails with all this rain; it would probably be just as bad even if it wasn’t dark out.

Just your luck, there isn’t much you can do but stumble blindly through the grounds, hoping you’re going the right way. But predictably, that is not a good idea, you’re about as wet as a person can be, shaking from the cold breeze, you need to find shelter somewhere soon.

Some of the buildings are recognisable, you think? You can’t really be sure, but you think you recognise the building Liu Kang resides in. Hobbling up to the door, you knock on it, hoping that some higher power takes pity on you and that Liu Kang is home… and also awake.

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s not home, the only solution you can think of is to sit under the small shelter surrounding the building, to at least prevent yourself from getting any more wet, not that that’s even possible at this point.

The rain doesn’t stop, the rate at which it’s coming unchanging. Spending all night here is not a feasible option, sadly, you will have to move again and hope you find your own quarters or somewhere open you can tuck into. It’d be embarrassing to sleep on Liu Kang’s doorstep only for him to trip over you in the morning.

You decide to try knocking one last time, maybe he didn’t hear you. Wrapping your knuckles against his front door, you knock harder, wishing for him to be home and that your first knocks went unheard.

Waiting a moment before you give up, he’s obviously out doing some God business or whatever, you don’t really question his movements. Turning your back to his door, you look out at the rain, working yourself up to going back out into it.

Just as you step out into it again, you feel a hand grab your upper arm and pull you back, bending your head back to look up, you realise it’s Liu Kang and a relived smile breaks out across your face. You turn around to face him properly and he lets go of your arm.

The look on his face is one of complete confusion, “What are you doing out in this rain?”

“I was looking for the library but then it started raining… and I got lost but I recognised your building, and I knocked a couple times, but I thought you were out, so I was gonna look for somewhere else to try and get warm.” You’re shaking like a leaf in front of him, teeth chattering as you talk.

He frowns at you and grabs you again, pulling you inside. The escape from the unforgiving wind is very welcome to you.

“Why were you out this late to begin with?” His eyes are firm as he looks at you.

You look away from him, feeling like you’re being scolded, “I… wanted to read a book… can’t stop thinking and I can’t sleep.”

You’re standing in front of him and staring at the floor below you, still shivering involuntarily, a puddle of water being created on the wood, “Do you have a towel, your floors getting wet.” Your head nodding downwards to the puddle.

“I am not worried about my floors,” he sighs, “Come with me.”

You shuffle down the hall after him, you feel like a wet cat who got caught outside when they’re meant to be inside. There’s a trail of water droplets trailing after you, you feel bad getting his floors all wet, you’ll have to remember to clean up for him.

Following behind, you properly look at him and notice his upper half is bare, only in pants for bed, you can’t help but stare at his large frame and muscular back. It’s a very human display, for him to be shirtless and in sleep pants, his hair down, he looks good, but he always looks good. You feel like a silly mess.

He leads you into his bathroom and hands you a clean towel, “Have a shower, get warm.”

You stand there looking at him for a moment, “What will I wear?”

Liu Kang walks past you and further down the hall, you briefly wonder if you’re meant to follow him or start showering. You decide to pull off your jacket and slip out of your shoes while waiting.

His footsteps are coming back towards you, “Here,” he offers you some of his clothes.

You think about whether the shirt would even close, he’s always wearing shirts that show his chest and they don’t exactly look like they’d offer you any modesty, even if you do it up. You unfold the shirt and you’re thankful to see it will, in fact cover you.

“Something wrong?” He asks.

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I was just wondering if you gave me one of those shirts that doesn’t actually close properly.”

He sighs at you, “Have a shower, then we will talk.”

You drop the shirt down from in front of you to look at him but he’s already walking away and shutting the door behind him.

The showers heat is what you imagine heaven feels like, or maybe getting really high. Muscles that you hadn’t even realised were tensed finally relax and you feel like you could melt into a puddle on the shower floor. You hadn’t noticed just how cold you were, if you had stayed out all night you might’ve actually turned into a popsicle.

After you’ve washed and dried yourself off, you look at Liu Kang’s clothes, he gave you pants but you’re worried they won’t fit. Which is troublesome because you can’t put on your wet underwear, not unless you wanna squirm in place all evening.

Closing your eyes, you huff out a sigh, considering your options. Telling him that you have no underwear is a mortifying thought. So, you pull his shirt on and do up the buttons, it comes down pretty far on your body, which shouldn’t be shocking; he is a large man but seeing it come more than halfway down your thighs makes you remember the size difference.

Considering how far it comes down on you, you wonder if you even have to say anything. You decide it might be better not to say anything, the risk of whatever conversation would ensue undoubtedly would embarrass you to death.

Which, before you met Liu Kang, you never really got all that embarrassed but the effect he has on you makes you feel self-conscious of all your choices and little mannerisms.

Padding down his hallway, you meet him in his living area, he’s sitting on his lounge. Rounding it, you hold onto the hem of his shirt, you feel nervous; like he’s about to give you the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ talk. It always worked on you as a kid, it’d probably work now too.

When he looks up to you, his eyes skate up your body slowly before he meets your gaze, “What’s wrong with the pants?”

“Don’t fit,” you mumble.

He nods at you, and you go to sit next to him.

“You smell like me,” he notes.

You had noticed that, his scent is overwhelming you, making you feel warm.

You change the subject, “Thank you, for the shirt and shower... and for letting me in.”

He looks concerned, “Why would I not let you in?”

You shrug at him, you aren’t really sure why you said it, maybe it’s the being locked out of your own apartment memories haunting you again. You fidget in your seat a bit, uncomfortable from both not wearing underwear and this conversation.

You change the subject, “Do you have a mop or another towel, I can dry your floors.”

He shakes his head at you, “You do not need to do that, I’ve already done it.”

He readjusts his position, moving to the side, one leg crossed on the couch and an arm coming up to rest on the back of the couch. He’s facing you completely now, you’re sitting forward with your knees touching, looking into your lap and toying with the hem of his shirt, conscious of the fact you aren’t wearing underwear.

“I would have done it,” you mutter.

“I know, that is why I did it first.”

You don’t say anything, which is out of character and it’s starting to concern Liu Kang.

“What were you going to do tonight? If I hadn’t answered my door,” he questions you, his tone concerned.

Your lips pout and you look away to the side, staring at his now very interesting wall.

“I dunno, I mean, I was planning to go back out and try and find my place or somewhere else warm at least, I wasn’t just gonna sit on your doorstep all night,” you shrug, still not facing him.

The couch cushions move as he shuffles a little closer, “That would have been reckless, your lips were almost blue before, you need to have more concern for your wellbeing.”

“I care about myself,” you turn to look at him, he had moved closer than you expected, you stumble over yourself a bit at his proximity, “…I do care, I didn’t know what to do and I made the best choice in that moment, it’s not like I wanted to go back into the rain… I knocked again… just in case you didn’t hear the first time…”

He looks at you intensely, it’s making you nervous and you look away from him, eyes turning downwards to your lap again, legs rubbing against each other as you continue to squirm.

“Look at me,” he says gently, you turn your head to look at him properly, he continues, “I am so aware of how human you are, and I worry about your safety because of it, you do not inspire confidence in me when you do stuff like this.”

“I think you’re taking this too seriously; I didn’t know it was going to rain and–”

“–That is not my only concern,” he gives you a pointed look.

“And we are back on this?” You ask.

He nods in response.

A deep sigh is pushed out of you, “You know, you are quite persistent… pushy even.”

“If you give in now, it would save us a lot of time,” he replies, making his stance clear, this is not something he is willing to compromise on. At least, not any more than he already has.

“I don’t understand why you want me to do this so bad? You’ve kept me separate from everything so far, so why would I need any kind of training?”

“For my peace of mind,” he says, rather abruptly.

Taking a deep breath in you let it all out at once, “You really aren’t going to let this go?” You ask, double checking.

“No,” he confirms.

“Then… I suppose… I will allow you to train me,” you huff, you’d cross your arms, but you’re worried about his shirt riding up your thighs.

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

You hum noncommittally, “This is such an unlucky night for me.”

He chuckles at you while getting up from the couch, “I am going to put some tea on, can you watch it?”

“Yeah,” you also get up from the couch and follow him to his kitchen.

Opening cupboards, he pulls out everything and puts the kettle on, then he wanders down the hallway leaving you to watch it. You don’t really know what he’s gone off to do, you’re a little peeved that you’ll have to be training for a possible threat, not even a tangible one. Plus you think he’s not telling you everything, but he seems to be a bit touchy right now, so you won’t push it.

Especially since you seem to be the reason why he’s being a bit short. But everything that happened tonight was just a series of unfortunate events, which at this point is par for the course for you. You don’t want to try and argue your case again though because, well, you were walking around an area you aren’t completely familiar with in the middle of the night, so you might be a little in the wrong.

Mindlessly, you watch the kettle, it feels a little ironic considering that old phrase, ‘a watched pot never boils’. From behind you, Liu Kang’s footsteps stop, you turn around to look at him.

“What were you doing?” You ask him, before you realise he’s holding all your wet clothes, including your underwear, the underwear that you are currently not wearing. Underwear that you should be wearing.

“What are you wearing underneath my shirt?” His gaze is even, unreadable.

“Uhm, well… like, r-right now?” You ask for clarification, your eyes wide.

“Yes, right now,” his tone is equally unreadable.

You suck on your teeth uncomfortably, “Well, right now… in this moment… I guess… nothing.”

“Right, thought so, considering I found these,” he holds out your underwear with one finger, showing them to you, “amongst all your other clothes.”

“Okayyyy, but you see…your pants didn’t fit and well, I didn’t want to put on wet underwear…” you avert your eyes from his, feeling exposed, “so, I decided, not to wear any…” You trail off, not really sure where to go from here.

He hums at you in understanding, “So, while I was telling you to care more for yourself…you were sitting on my couch, squirming because you chose to forgo underwear, is that right?”

You look upwards, feigning deep thought, “Mhm, pretty much, yeah…but I wouldn’t say I was squirming.”

“You were squirming, I thought it was because the conversation was uncomfortable.” He retorts.

“Well, it was…just in multiple ways,” you smile innocently at him, “Uhm, can I have those?”

“Are you going to put them on?” He asks.

You nod at him, “I was considering it, wearing wet panties has to feel better than this.”

His eyes close momentarily at your words, he intakes a breath. You feel ashamed to admit that this conversation is working you up, it would probably be for the best if you cover yourself properly.

Walking over to him you go to grab your underwear, but as you reach up to pluck them from his hand, he reaches further up. Not completely out of arm’s length but if you do reach up, you would be exposing yourself completely.

“That’s not nice,” you huff.

“It isn’t nice showing up on my doorstep just to get into my clothes and then sit on my couch with nothing underneath them.” His eyes are full of mirth.

“Can I just have my underwear…please?”

He pretends to be in deep thought, mimicking you from earlier, “Do you really want to put on wet underwear?”

“…Yes.” No. You don’t really want to, but not wearing underwear around someone who knows you aren’t wearing any is…horrifyingly revealing.

“So, you were fine not wearing any underwear when I didn’t know, but now you’d rather be uncomfortable in wet panties, instead of being bare?”

“You’re asking me too many questions,” you’re frowning at him, but he doesn’t seem to find it menacing, his eyes still playful.

“You normally enjoy talking,” he jests.

A scowl is pulling at you lips, “Liu can you please just,” you look away and huff, “give me my underwear,” you mumble it out.

“Is there a specific reason that you need them now?” His implication is heavy, and you are not admitting to anything, you’d sooner die.

Rolling your eyes at him, you grab your clothes from his other hand and walk over to his dining table. You place them over the back of his chairs, so they have the chance to dry.

He shows mercy and moves to you to give you your underwear. As you hold them you make a face of displeasure, they’re soaked still, and you really don’t want to put them on.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow raising.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He pushes, “Put them on then.”

This situation is too much for you, this side of Liu Kang paired with his bare skin is making you dizzy, your pussy getting wetter by the second. It’s incredibly embarrassing that, him knowing and teasing you for not wearing underwear, is making your skin hot and body yearn for him. Even more embarrassing that he seems to have some kind of inkling about your arousal for him.

“I will,” another lie, you are not putting these on.

“You know, your facial expressions are incredibly honest,” he observes.

You try your hand at a poker face and it has him smiling in response.

Giving in, you confess, “I don’t want to put them on, they’re too wet.”

His face is bright, pleased at his victory, “You are an odd person,” he teases.

You’re exasperated, “Can’t you just pretend to not know?”

“I can try.” He shrugs and gives you a sweet smile but it doesn’t feel sweet, not after what he just put you through.

You put your wet underwear on the chair next to your other clothes, preferably you would clean them but they’ll do for getting you back to your room tomorrow.

You huff past Liu Kang as you walk to sit on his couch again, still holding onto the hem of his shirt as you sit, not wanting it to ride up. Not willing to risk it, especially since he knows how bare you are underneath.

He makes the tea and brings it over to you, both of you sitting in silence. You can’t help but squirm a bit in your spot. Wanting to rub your thighs together for some kind of relief but that would be way too obvious. So, you try focusing on your tea, the flavours of it, the smell, the warmth.

But then your thoughts wander, and you’re thinking about Liu Kang’s arms, his chest, his tattoos, his hands, the playfulness in his voice, his eyes as he looked at you. The stern voice he used on you earlier, everything about him sets you alight, you huff in annoyance next to him.

You hear him sigh lightly beside you, “You’re squirming again.”

“No, I’m not,” a boldfaced lie.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing,” you take another sip of your tea.

He grabs your mug from you, placing it on the table, “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t need help,” you scowl at him.

His expression is dubious and not believing you for a single second, “Come here,” he pats the couch between his spread thighs.

Your face is shocked, “What for?”

He rolls his eyes at you, “I was not born yesterday, do you want my help or not?”

You argue, “Still don’t need help.”

Both his brows drop, “You’re sitting there, bare and squirming on my couch.”

“You’re supposed to pretend not to know,” you comment.

“I can only ignore so much,” he retorts.

You look at him for a bit, his expression unchanging, seemingly steadfast.

“How are you going to help?” You’re curious now.

“Find out,” he pats the couch again.

Looking upwards and away from him, you consider it for a bit, this might not be a great idea but he’s really hot and offering to help you, so against your better judgement you move over to him and sit between his spread legs. He moves forward, chest pressed to your back, his lips right by your ear.

“Can I touch you?” He checks with you.

“…Yes, please.”

He hums in response, his hand sliding down your body, resting atop one of your thighs.

Tapping it, he says, “Open your legs.”

Your skin feels hot but you listen and open them, the outside of your thighs touching the inside of his.

“Perfect,” he mumbles beside your head.

His hand slides down, caressing your inner thigh now, his other arm is wrapped around your torso, keeping you still. The hand on your thigh slowly inching closer to where you need him most, it feels like everything he’s doing is taking a million years. He’s taking his time to tenderly touch you, working you up more than you already are.

Your own hands come up to the one wrapped around you, holding onto his forearm, “Can you just… touch me please?” You ask him, voice the slightest bit breathless.

“In a moment,” his hand moves further away from your aching heat, instead tickling up the length of your inner thigh.

Your body feels like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin, his barely there touch turning your brain into mush. Slowly, his hand travels back up your thigh, and he cups your pussy, his two middle fingers slipping between your folds.

His chest rumbles with a groan behind you, “How long have you been this wet?”

You turn your head away from him and to the side, trying to avoid his words in your ear. It doesn’t work, if anything he can get closer, his head leaning down and breathing hot air onto your ear. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine in response, your teeth biting into your lower lip to supress the small sound you almost make.

“Probably when I confronted you, right?” He hits the nail on the head.

His fingers keep running through your folds, spreading your slick all over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger pressing into you the slightest bit, you cant your hips in response and he pulls away, instead repeating his previous motions of rubbing his fingers through your folds. His teasing pulling a huff from you.

“You know how I know?” he probes.

You shake your head at him, you’re a little bit curious as to what gave you away.

“I know because you are so honest, your facial expression, your movements, your eyes,” he practically purrs in your ear.

You shuffle against him, whether to get him closer or get yourself free, you aren’t sure but he holds you still against him. His fingers making a mess of your pussy, he moves them to your clit, giving you only the slightest amount of pressure. It has your hips rising to chase the sensation, wanting his fingers to be firmer. The arm around your torso pulls you back to him, holding you steady.

“You’re still squirming,” he comments.

“It’s –hah– your fault,” you quip.

“Mmm, is that so?” He wonders out loud.

Finally, he adds more pressure to your clit, the stimulation almost knocking the wind out of you, a small whimper falling from your lips involuntarily. Liu Kang hums appreciatively at your reaction to his touch. His nose runs up the length of your neck, tickling you.

“You seem to enjoy being touched right now,” he breathes the words against your neck.

He rubs circles into your clit, firm and even, never picking up or slowing down. Your hips wriggle against him, you want more, want him inside you.

A breath of air is pushed out his nostrils, amused at your movements, “Need something?” He’s still holding you firm, “If you do, you need to ask.”

“Want you to touch me,” you request.

Tone serious but his words have humour behind them, “I am touching you.”

“Want your finger, inside,” you whine at him, hating how desperate you must look and sound. No man ever having pulled you apart with such minimal contact but he isn’t just a man, is he?

His chest vibrates under you, his fingers slipping down to your pussy hole, middle finger pressing into you slowly. His large finger a stretch for you, his thumb rubs at your clit, trying to coax you into relaxing enough to take it.

“I don’t think you could be any tighter,” he murmurs to you.

Your hips are wanting to wiggle down onto his finger but you’re being held in place, when he does get his finger fully inside you, it has you instinctually trying to close your legs. Liu Kang tsks at you in disappointment, the hand around you briefly moving to place your legs over tops of his. You’re completely spread on him, the crook of your knees resting over top of his legs.

“This is embarrassing,” you mutter.

His hand moves back to hold you around your middle again, “You won’t mind soon.”

This man is going to be the death of you.

The finger inside you crooks up, stroking at your inner walls, the pleasure has your body writhing in his hold again. He pulls you back into his chest further and looks over your shoulder, down to where his finger is seated inside you. As his finger draws back from you, wet sounds follow the movement, and when he pushes it back inside, your cunt clamps down on it; a gasp jumping out of your throat.

He fucks his one finger into you continuously, your slick dripping from you, hips jumping against him. Eventually, you want more, want to feel fuller.

You pant out, “More, Liu – hah.”

He obeys, pressing his ring finger into you, his pace slowing to make up for the stretch, the small amount of pain not enough to bother you, your arousal outweighing it. Your hips grind down onto his fingers, taking the both of them deeper. His thumb rubs at your clit again as he fucks both his fingers into you, your head falls back against his shoulder, your eyes glazing over.

“Getting all fucked out on my fingers, that’s cute.” He observes.

His fingers are completely seated inside you; your hips grind into his hand. He allows you the small moment to rock your hips back and forth. Before he suddenly starts fucking them into you, pulling them out and slamming them back in, the tips of his fingers brushing something devastating. The feeling has your body shaking and whimpers falling from your lips, he hums in delight at your reaction and targets the one spot. Fucking his large fingers into it over and over again, wanting to have you falling apart for him.

Your insides start twisting in on themselves, panting breaths coming quicker, an odd feeling overwhelming you. You go to warn Liu Kang, “Feels weird.”

Liu Kang can feel your walls clenching down on his fingers, “It’s fine.”

You huff out at him, both from the feeling and his response.

“Poor girl, her ex-boyfriend didn’t only never get her to cum, she’s also never orgasmed before, mmm?” He questions, taunting.

If that’s what this is then you guess you really haven’t orgasmed before, you could’ve sworn you had but it never felt like this.

You gasp at his words, uncharacteristic of him and also really hot. Your brows knit together as his fingers keep moving inside you, his pace picking up slightly. The wet squelching of your wet cunt prominent in the otherwise quiet house.

“Stop fighting it love, just let it happen,” he whispers into the skin of your neck. He leaves wet kisses against it.

Your skin heats up in reaction to the pet name, your pussy spasming around his fingers, a whiny gasp of his name ripped from your chest. You go to keel forward but he holds you to him.

“There you go,” he purrs into your skin, “Doing so good, love.”

Your thighs are shaking on top of his, small whimpers leaving you as he continues fucking his fingers into you, prolonging your high. Aftershocks wracking your frame, jolting in his hold, slowly his fingers come to a stop, your head had dropped forward during your orgasm.

His unoccupied hand comes up to press against your forehead and pull your head back to his shoulder, you’re panting against him. Chest rising and falling quickly, your eyes unseeing for a few moments after.

When he pulls his fingers from you, he holds them up to marvel at them, admiring the way your cum has sticky strings falling from his fingers when he parts them.

“Look at that,” he says with the brightest tone, genuinely enamoured by the sight of your cum on his fingers.

You shy away from the display, turning your head to the side, unfortunately for your self-consciousness, you see the way he sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks your cum off of them. The shameless display has your skin burning you from the inside out. After he’s sucked them clean, he wipes his spit off on your inner thigh.

“Can’t believe you were with a man who couldn’t make you orgasm for that long,” he says, almost out of nowhere.

You don’t respond, still embarrassed and a little fucked out, you don’t feel present in your own body. Wiggling against Liu Kang, you feel his very pronounced erection dig into your ass.

You mumble to him, surprised, “You’re hard.”

“Obviously, why wouldn’t I be?” he’s confused by your shock.

You remark, “You didn’t get any pleasure from that.”

“Love, I got so much pleasure from that.”

His response makes you blush.

“Your ex is some piece of work,” he claims.

You lift your shaky legs up and off of his, back to your previous position of outer thighs to his inner thighs. He lets you lay on top of him for a bit while you collect yourself, but you want to look at him.

Clumsily, you get up and shuffle around, climbing on top of him and straddling him, now face to face. You sit back a bit on his lap so you can see him properly.

“What’s wrong now?” He asks, feigning exasperation at you.

You don’t reply, instead lazily taking in all of his features, your eyes zero in on his lips. Wanting to kiss him but unsure if that’s crossing an invisible line. You don’t move, but you pull your eyes away from his mouth to look him in the eyes again.

Lightly rolling his eyes, he huffs out a sigh, his hand comes up behind your neck and pulls you towards him. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, slow and sweet. At least it is until you shuffle forward and sit right on top of the bulge in his pants. You groan at the feeling of his hard cock pressed up against your bare cunt, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His tongue explores your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hand holds onto your neck, keeping you in place for him to kiss you how he pleases. It’s is unlike any other, you’re realising now, you don’t think you’ve ever been kissed with so much desire, need.

Groans are pulled from his chest at the way you’ve started mindlessly grinding against him. His free hand coming up to encourage it, appreciating the friction. Having been hard for far too long with no relief. Your hands move to his shoulders, holding onto his warm skin.

You keep grinding clumsily onto his cock, back and forth along the length of it. He keeps his mouth on yours, his groans and your whines shared in it. When you pull back to breathe, his hand comes away from your throat and holds onto your other hip, using both his hands to drag you up and down his cock more forcefully.

You’re huffing out whimpers every time the head of his dick grazes your clit, Liu Kang is getting lost in the feeling of you soaking his cock through his pants. His head dropping back on the couch, you’re getting desperate on top of him. His dick is twitching under you, feeling him jerk against you has you rutting into him.

“Liu,” you call out to him.

“Mmm?” He hums to you.

“Want you inside,” you whimper.

His head shoots up to look you in the eyes, his hands stilling your hips causing you to whine pitifully. His cock jumps under you at the sound.

“Are you sure? Could barely take my fingers,” he’s double checking before getting his hopes up.

Nodding your head at him, you say, “Mhm, need it.”

His chest rumbles with a guttural groan, before he’s tapping the side of your thigh, asking you to stand on your knees for a moment. You lift yourself up and he pulls his pants down, enough to get his fat cock free.

The size of him shocks you slightly, his hands grab your hips again, pulling you down to sit on it. He starts the previous rhythm, grinding you down onto him, his cock slips between your folds, your pussy getting his dick wet and ready for you.

Gliding up and down his cock has your slick leaking from you and as you slide up, the head of his dick catches on your pussy hole, the feeling catching you off guard. You can’t help but push down onto his cock, stretching yourself on him, Liu Kang gasps at the feeling. His hands gripping your hips harshly, grounding himself.

Frustration grows in you at the difficulty of getting him inside you, so you force it and drop down quickly, more of his big dick filling your small cunt. The feeling too much, not so much pain but a large shock, your hands grasp onto Liu Kang roughly. His own body jerking forward, hips moving up on their own accord, a woosh of air exiting him like he’s been punched.

You whimper as your pussy contracts on his cock, right on the verge of an orgasm out of nowhere. Liu Kang realises this; his thumb moves to your clit and rubs quick circles into it. You’re cumming embarrassingly quick on him, his dick only halfway inside you and your eyes are teared up, your pussy creaming on him.

He growls enthusiastically at the sight and feeling of you cumming on him, only stuffed half full.

“Look at that,” he hums, “for someone who’s never had an orgasm, you cum easily.” He remarks.

You’re spasming around his cock, thighs shaking from holding yourself up.

“Sit down,” he says.

Taking a deep breath, you keep going, overstimulated and worried that him breathing on your pussy would have you cumming again. But you persevere, sinking down on him slowly, taking all of him in carefully. Eventually, you’re sitting on him, taking him to the hilt, the full feeling makes you dazed. Liu Kang’s head is thrown back slightly, his own gaze looking a bit fucked out, just from you sitting on him.

You can’t help but grind down into him, hips moving back and forth with him fully seated inside you. His big cock brushing against spots you didn’t know existed, it has you quivering on him. Your grinding gets desperate, and he lets you rut against him how you please, head leaning back and watching you squirm against him devotedly. Small grunts and moans escaping him every now and again. Your own noises more frequent and louder, your hands press into his pecs, using him as leverage.

His own hands leave your hips and instead come up and rest behind his head, holding it up. He’s leaving you to fuck yourself on his cock however you need. The sight of his torso stretched out and watching you blissfully ride him makes your pussy clench. Your clit grinding into his pelvis over and over is eventually what undoes you, cumming with a drawn-out whine, Liu Kang groans at the feeling of you cumming on him again. His self-control waning thin but he wears a large smile as you cum on him again, nonetheless.

“It’s my turn now,” he murmurs.

He manhandles you off of him, turning you so your back is to his chest, then he’s re-entering you from this position. The way he easily manoeuvred you has your heart beating and cunt leaking.

He feels different from this angle, feels delightfully deep. His arms come up and under the crook of your legs, holding them in his elbows. You’re spread so open for him; he slips deeper inside you and it has you keening. His hands hold your tits, playing with them, tugging at your nipples over his shirt. You’re practically immobile in this position, making you feel helpless.

His hands leave your tits and hold onto the front of your shoulders, his hips draw back, his cock slipping out slightly, before he’s shoving himself back inside you all at once. He repeats the motion over and over, fucking up into your immobile body, taking what he needs from you now. Your head falls back on his shoulder, whines and pants freely falling from your lips. Hands scratching at his thighs, grappling for some stability.

It shamefully doesn’t take you long again to finish, not with the punishing pace he set and the sounds spilling from his mouth right by your ear.

“Cumming again? Already?” His words are teasing but he seems overjoyed at your third orgasm on his cock.

His words have your cunt drooling on him, creamy ring at the base of his cock from all your orgasms. You’re silent when you cum this time, more pants than anything else, your pussy strangling his dick. He groans at the feeling of you shuddering on his cock, he continues fucking you through it, not stopping and holding you open.

The brutal pace he’s set is a lot for your abused cunt, the overstimulation getting to you. The pleasure shooting through you is sharp and you jump every time the head of his cock bumps up against something heavenly inside you.

“One more for me?” He asks you, feeling you getting close to the edge again.

You shake your head at him, “Too –hah– much.”

“You can take it.” He encourages, determined to throw you off the edge if you won’t go willingly, “Just one more, love.”

His words, his voice, it sends you over the edge, your orgasm is sharp and sudden. Punching you in your gut, a needy whine spilling from your lips, you’re shedding actual tears from the force of it. Liu Kang is still fucking up into you, pace picking up, chasing after his own high.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” it’s barely coherent when you say it, you aren’t capable of actual speech at the moment, effectively fucked dumb by him.

A large and guttural groan is ripped from him, you can feel it in his chest. He’s cumming hard, releasing it all inside of you, he pushes you down as he fucks up into you. Holding your cunt to the base of him, grinding against you as he finishes. The sensation of being filled by him has your cunt fluttering around him.

You gasp at the feeling of his dick twitching violently as he releases inside you. He holds you to him for some time as he comes down from his own high, and then he’s gently untangling your legs from his arms. He slumps back into the couch, you’re careful to keep him inside you. Not wanting to ruin his couch more than you already have.

You feel limp against him, “You’re gonna get cum on your couch,” you warn.

He groans at you, disapproving of your observation, “Just keep me inside you.”

“That’s not gonna work…” You feel bashful as you add, “It’s leaking out around you.”

He pushes himself up and looks down from over your shoulder, wanting to see it for himself. A satisfied hum leaves him at the sight of his and your cum leaking out of you and down the base of his cock.

“Liu,” you press him.

His hand moves to your cunt and holds there as he slips out of you, holding your pussy, stuffing what’s leaking out back in. You thought he was going to keep his hand there so it didn’t get on the couch but this is the opposite of that, he’s scooping it off his pants, your thighs and the couch and then stuffing it back inside of you.

“You’re making an even bigger mess,” you worry, brows creased.

“It’s fine,” comes his nonchalant reply.

Eventually, after he’s satisfied with what he’s stuffed back inside you, he puts his dick back in his pants and picks you up. He carries you into his room and places you on his bed.

You sigh, “I would be more comfortable with a pair of underwear.”

“I have some boxers that would probably fit you,” he mentions flippantly.

“Why didn’t you offer that from the start?!” You exasperate.

“You didn’t ask, and then you asked me to pretend your bare pussy wasn’t on my couch,” he shrugs at you.

He grabs a pair of boxer briefs and hands them to you, he stands next to you so you have leverage when you stand up yourself. Your legs feel like jelly, you stand there struggling to even stand on both feet let alone one to put the boxers on.

He huffs at you, amused at your struggle, “Sit down, I’ll put them on.”

You sit back down and he slips them over your legs, after he’s gotten them up as far as he can get them while you’re sitting, you grab onto him and stand so he can tug them up the rest of the way.

You mutter at him, “Can’t believe this was always an option.”

He smiles softly at you as you crawl into his bed, you sit up against the headboard. On his bedside table you notice something.

“What’s that,” you ask, nodding your head at it.

“That’s for you,” he says, grabbing it and handing it to you, he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. Watching your reaction.

And when you realise what it is, you feel like you might cry because it’s the most perfect gift. It’s your favourite book but Liu Kang has gone through it and annotated the pages with his thoughts and feelings. It makes you ridiculously happy.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever been given,” you tell him, giving him a sweet smile.

“Would have preferred to get your copy back but I thought this was the next best thing,” he says.

You shake your head at him, “This is better.” You’re excited to read your favourite book again but this time with all of Liu Kang’s thoughts filling the pages.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A/N: Thank you for reading!!!! I had trouble with my characterisation of Liu Kang so I am sorry if you guys feel like I didn’t do him justice, but I appreciate any and all support!!! <333 I am down bad for this man atm so I had to get him out of my system. I have an idea for a miniseries of sorts or a part two at the very least, so if you guys like this one, I’ll write the next part <333 Requests are always open, that also goes for if you have any questions in general about me, my blog, or specific fics :)))

#liu kang x reader #liu kang x reader smut #smut #mk1 smut #fanfic #liu kang #liu kang smut #mk1 2023 #liu kang x you

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daisyvisions · 1 month ago

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Lend a Helping Hand - (kv.m)

➺ Pairing - gym spotter!Kevin x fem!gynmast reader

➺ Summary - Rule number one in the gym: “Never fall in love with your teammate”. But it doesn’t count if he helps you in more ways than one, right?

➺ Word Count - 2.2K

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), gym spotter!Kevin, fingering, sexual massaging, lots and lots of sexual tension, strength kink if you squint, soft!dom tendencies (?), reader’s got a crush on Kevin (and vice versa), cursing, some jealousy, pet names (sweetheart, baby), mentions of boners, inaccurate mentions of a gymnast’s life most likely, let me know if I missed anything!

➺ Author’s note - late birthday gift for the one and only Kevin Moon! Been sitting in the WIPs for months now. Please know I’m not a gymnast nor do I have vast knowledge on the sport, so if there are any errors… just ignore them. I got inspired by a video I saw and just had to write about it (definitely wasn’t thinking of Kevin’s arms flexing too in the process 🥴) Prompts 5,55,66 were used from this list! Proofread once.

➺ Taglist: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers

Thinking about gym spotter!Kevin, who you end up meeting for the first time during practice.

Your usual gym spotter had sprained his arm the other day and because you didn’t have the time to wait for him to fully heal (since the competition was a few weeks away), your coach decided to pull in a substitute for you instead.

At first you didn’t really pay attention to him as you enter the gym. You were too focused on perfecting your routine that you immediately zoned out everything around you. It was the qualifying round for nationals, so you had to keep your head in the game no matter what.

But as you accidentally miss a step while doing your routine, you nearly fall off the beam almost land the wrong way. As your heart starts beating rapidly while your life flashes before your eyes, a strong pair of arms were able to luckily catch you just in time before the fall.

“Hey are you okay? Are you hurt?” His hand cradling your face impulsively as he checks on you. Your heart starts beating fast for an entirely different reason suddenly.

God this guy was really hot! Wait a minute… Who the hell is this guy?

“I-I’m fine.” You stutter. “Thanks for catching me.”

“Anytime.” He gently smiles back at you, his hand still cradling the side of your cheek as his free arm holds you tightly around the waist.

You couldn’t help but quickly gawk at the size of this arms as he pulls away and helps you get up, his muscles flexing naturally under the lights you had to make sure you weren’t drooling right in front of him.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” You ask as you try to divert any intrusive thoughts taking over.

“Kevin, you sub spotter-” He gives you a firm handshake. “-didn’t get to introduce myself earlier since you were wearing headphones.”

“My bad, a habit of mine before I practice.” You answer sheepishly. You don’t know why you’re getting shy all of a sudden around Kevin. Your usual spotter was just as good looking as he was so you should’ve been immune to Kevin’s natural charm instantly. But then it clicks… It’s because he’s exactly your type.

No, you can’t do this. You mentally snap out of it. The first rule you told yourself from day one was to never ever fall in love with your teammate.

You have to focus on winning and making it to the top, nothing else but that. But you realize that rule you made for yourself gets harder to follow as the days go by with Kevin around. As you got to know and spend more time with him, you discover how well you two actually get along, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter every single time and harder to resist him entirely.

But of course, with every little crush a girl has comes the ugly green monster out of nowhere, especially now as it hovers over your shoulder while you watch Kevin spot for another gymmate of yours from afar. Your eyes seething with jealousy as his hands expertly grab her waist, or the way she looks at him with that look.

C’mon, get it together, you mentally slap yourself. You can’t be acting or thinking like this at all! Not when the competition is just a few days away. You shake your head, trying to not give into your emotions and focus on practicing your routine again.

As your body follows to the rhythm of your routine, you couldn’t help but hear your gymmate’s flirtatious giggle at Kevin, distracting you from landing properly as you miss an important step. A loud thud echoes throughout the gymnasium as your body falls to the ground rather harshly.

Your shriek of pain reaches Kevin’s ears at an instant, his head snapping at your direction before he sprints your way. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop you in his arms, carrying you bridal style and moving swiftly as he rushes you to the infirmary.

Just his luck, the nurse happened to be taking her break so he decides to take care of the situation himself and lay you down at the nearest vacant bed. He tries his best to console you while he gently asks you what happened and what parts of your body hurt. You attempt to reassure him that you’re alright, but with the held back tears in your eyes it was obvious you weren’t okay at all.

“Please, tell me where it hurts.” Kevin’s concerned voice tugging at your heartstrings.

“No, you’re going to laugh-” You try to hide your face.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I won't. I want to help you.” The nickname flying over your head as you try to calm down.

“Fine.” You sigh. “It’s a good thing I landed on my ass instead of my head. But now it hurts real bad.” You let out a hiss as you try to adjust your position.

“Lie on your stomach. Let me try to massage it out alright?”

“O-okay.” You stutter as you slowly flip to your other side, letting out another sigh as you get into a comfortable position.

“Just a sec, let me find a lotion that can help soothe the ache.” You hear Kevin’s footsteps walking to the other side of the room, searching for the muscle ointment. As soon as he walks back, you feel the pads of his fingers press down on your lower back.

“Does it hurt here?” He asks and you shake your head in response.

“How about here?” The pressure of his fingers now moving on top of your tailbone.

“A little, but I think it might be lower than that.” You reply.

Then suddenly you feel the heel of his palm pressing on your ass cheek. You let out a mix of a moan and a groan as you start to feel the ache of the pain but at the same time how warm his hand feels on you right now.

Out of all days to be wearing your most revealing body suit to practice it had to be today…

“Y-yeah right there…” You croak, trying your best not to moan.

“Got it. Is it alright if I massage you here?” Kevin asks. God he’s such a gentleman, the way his hands feel on you and his soothing voice make your face feel like it’s on fire.

“S-sure. Go ahead.”

Kevin opens the bottle, squeezing the liquid onto his palms and rubbing his hands together before gently placing them on your skin. The cold liquid spreading on your skin makes you slightly jolt at first, but you later ease into it as Kevin slowly works his hands on your lower part of your glutes.

Your eyes flutter shut, finally relaxing as you feel the pain slowly going away (his hands are really something else…)

“I'm gonna lift your body suit a bit to get a better coverage is that alright?” Kevin asks for your consent again before going any further.

“Yes, just do what you need to do.” You mindlessly let out a sigh of content.

His hands start kneading your skin, making sure he’s really massaging those pain points but at the same time trying to get you to relax. He noticed how tense you were since you entered the gym this morning, thinking of ways to get your mind relaxed before the competition.

This wasn't the ideal scenario he had in mind but the way your eyebrows start to relax tells him this was more than alright.

And it didn’t help that you were moaning under his touch. Every sound you made had his cock slightly twitching with need while he continues to massage your sensitive muscles. He doesn’t know how long he can stay composed, especially with how your skin feels so soft beneath his calloused hands.

As the heel of Kevin’s palm presses against a particular spot on your skin, you involuntarily let out a deep groan.

“Fuck, right there Kev. Keep going.” You don’t realize the impact of how you sound as you say these words to him, his throat drying up each second that passes as he tries to hold back from letting out any involuntary moans of his own.

He continues to massage that spot, the one right below your ass cheek. His fingers go deeper between your inner thighs, the heat from your core radiating off you so much that he could feel it at the tips of his fingers.

He’s so tempted to rip your body suit in half and bury his face in-between, running his tongue against your skin until he goes straight into your-

“Feels so good Kevin.” You whine.

“Yeah? You like it when I massage you there?” He slightly teases.

“Mhm.”

“Good. You’ve been so stressed lately-” Kevin’s voice goes one octave lower than normal. “Been wanting to make you feel better these past few days.” His fingers inch closer to your sex as he says these words, making your breath hitch.

“W-want me to make you feel better?” His now sultry voice oozing into your ears. You’ve been trying your best not to squirm under his touch since you got you into this position, but right now all you can think about is hands roaming and massaging your entire body.

Gym rules be damned. You need him and his fingers in your right this second or else you might just explode.

“God yes, please. Touch me Kevin.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Kevin continues to tease you a bit with his current massage pattern until his hand starts inserting between your inner thighs, the pads of his fingers grazing the covered entrance of your cunt. He slowly pulls the panties of your suit to the side, slipping a finger between your folds as he finds you sensitive bud.

“Fuck- baby you’re so wet.” He hisses at the immediate contact. You do nothing but moan in response, trying to subtly grind yourself on his finger.

“Tsk, impatient now are we?” Kevin catches you.

“Don’t worry I got you.” You suddenly feel the warmth of his body hovering over you.

“Let me take care of you yeah? I’ll do the work.” His bottom lip brushing against the shell of your ear before he inserts two fingers inside your wet heat, slowly curling them in and out of you until he starts to pick up the pace.

You try bury your face against the pillow you've been lying down on, muffling down your moans of pleasure as the squelching noise of you being fingered echo through the room.

“Mm I can do this all day-” Kevin mumbles under his breath as he watches his fingers fuck your entrance.

“Only I get to touch you like this, okay?”

“Yes! Please!” You whine out. “Moreeee-” Your words start to slur before they get caught in your throat as you gasp, feeling Kevin stretching you out by adding another finger inside you.

“You’re doing so good for me baby.” He praises you.

“Please, please, please-” You beg, “Am so close.”

“Yeah? Wanna cum on my fingers is that it?”

“Uh-huh” You grip the pillow for dear life as three fingers continue to pound into you. He can feel the wetness of your cunt growing by the second, your walls fluttering tighter around his digits as you get closer to your high.

Kevin leans forward, his lips close to your ear once more. “Let go sweetheart, I got you.”

And just like that, a gush of warm liquid flows onto his fingers as you scream into the pillow. Your essence dripping onto his hand as he slowly pulls out his fingers from your entrance. He stares at the the pearlescent coat on his fingers in awe, inspecting it like it’s a national treasure.

As you slowly turn your head to face him, you catch him sucking at his cum coated fingers, letting out a near animalistic growl as he tastes you on his tongue.

“Looks like you’ve got me all hot and bothered.” Kevin chuckles as he looks down to see the outline of his rock hard boner beneath his gym shorts.

“Y-you need some help with that?” You playfully tease him.

“After the competition. Can’t have you too distracted now can we?” He smiles back at you as he helps you flip over onto your back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead. You pout in response, making Kevin find you cuter than ever.

“Alright, how about this… Let me massage you one more time after practice at my place-” His face going dangerously closer to yours. “And if you nail your qualifiers I'll take you out on a proper date. Deal?”

You suddenly give him a mischievous smile in return as your hand runs down from his abs down to his hard cock, teasing him as you lightly tug on his length. A surge of confidence suddenly running through your veins at his reaction.

“Deal.”

#deoboyznet #kevin moon #kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenarios #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #tbz smut #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #tbz hard hours

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

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hey uhm this is my first time requesting so i hope i explain it well😅

could u write a zuko smut with both of them being banished seperately from the fire nation and they both have to search for the avatar and first they are rivals but then when they both join the gaang (gosh i hate that word) and somehow end up together in a cave with crazy sexual tension and one thing leads to another

if youre not too uncomfortable with it could you put in zuko having a saliva fetish

thanks for reading all this my first language isnt english so the grammar is probably horrible sorry for that

Matching Angst

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After you and Zuko fell off Appa while fighting, you find shelter in a cave. After making up from the argument, things get heated.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Fixation, Saliva Kink. <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Zuko and you were currently sitting inside a small cave, trying your best to dry off. While you were all flying on Appa, you’d fallen while pushing Zuko who also plunged into the water below. Luckily nobody was hurt but unfortunately that meant you were stuck with Zuko for the night. Anng and Katara came to get both of you but decided that you both needed to work out whatever problems you had with each other. So now you were sitting next to the fire, happy that your clothes were finally dry. Resting your chin on your knees and watching the fire grow. The fight was over directions; so stupid and you guys had already apologized to each other. Old habits die hard and because you both spent so long searching for the Avatar for your honor's sake, it was easy to slip back into that attitude. It was getting colder and even though you had an unlimited fire, the same couldn’t be said for kindling.

“Don’t make it weird,” he said, coming up and wrapping one of his arms around you.

“It’s freezing,” you pointed out, holding onto his arm.

“We’ll be out of here soon,” he said, making a makeshift bed for the two of you to sleep in.

“I just feel like it’s my fault, if i hadn’t started that argument this wouldn’t be happening,” you said, kicking some of the dirt into the air.

“If it makes you feel any better: you were right about the directions. I figured it out while we were arguing but felt too stupid to admit I was wrong. Let’s just call it even,” he said, laying on the bed and gesturing for you to join him.

“Sharing a bed?” you asked, sitting next to him.

“Yeah, normally I would make two but I figured because of the temperature it’d be safer to share body heat through the night. I mean- not that I would oppose sleeping next to you even if it was hot or-” he started to ramble.

“It’s okay, I knew what you meant,” you giggle before laying down.

It was nice enough for a night, not the best either. You knew there was no way you’d be getting any actual sleep. He was spooning you, using his arm as a pillow; the other arm was draped over your waist. He was breathing into your ear, snoring just a little. You could feel his chest rising and falling against your back. Your stomach would flip every time his lower stomach made contact with the arch of your back. Zuko could sleep anywhere no matter what, an ability you wish for. You were admiring how muscular his arm was; without thinking you start tracing one of the veins with your fingertip. He stirs in his sleep and pulls you closer to him. Pressing his erection against your ass, making your back involuntarily arch. Your breath hitches and you hope he doesn’t notice. Goosebumps covering your skin, like any contact he made with your skin felt like fireworks.

Testing out the water, you start grinding yourself against him. Feeling a mixture of relief and excitement once he started rocking himself against you. He started pressing kisses against the back of your head as things started to heat up further. Not satisfied with the lack of friction, he yanks your shorts down. Pulling his member out and pushing it between your warm thighs. Everytime he trusts, his tip would glide against your slit. Spreading your wetness all over himself, loving how your body reacted when he brushed over your clit. Everything about you was driving him crazy. The way you were trying to hide your face in his arm. How hot your sex felt pressed against his length. His hands were exploring your body, starting at your chest. Pinching and kneading your breasts while groaning in your ear.

He had to stop himself from cumming too early. Getting up and changing both your positions and shedding the remaining clothing. Now laying on your back and he was towering over you. The fire was burning out behind him, the sight making you melt and burn with anticipation. He leaned down lining himself up with your slit. Using one of his elbows to support his weight, resting it by your head. Bringing the other hand to your face; his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Such pretty fucking lips,” he cooed while burning his length deep inside you.

He maintained hard eye contact with you while pushing his thumb past your lips. Pushing your tongue down and feeling around your mouth. He started slowly thrusting, fucking his thumb in and out of your mouth to match pace with his hips. You curled your tongue around his digit which his hips snap forward involuntarily. The sudden fullness made you cry out, groaning and whining while arching your back. He started smearing your drool over your lips and down your chin slightly. Gripping your jaw and starting to pick up his pace. Nuzzling his face in your shoulder and pounding into you at an intense rhythm. You wrapped your legs around his waist and raked your nails down his back.

“Fuck!” he loudly growled in your ear as you bucked your hip up.

You could tell he was nearing his orgasm because his rutting was becoming more erratic, going in and out of rhythm. Sweat was dripping off both of you while using each other’s bodies to cum. Your lower stomach was burning; almost searing as your abdominal muscles started to contact. Clinging onto him and digging your nails into his shoulders while you rode out your orgasm. Seeing you completely cock-drunk, and letting the nastiest cries coming out of your mouth made him cum. Fucking his cock so deeping inside you, your back began sliding forward. Moaning in your ear as he shot ropes of cum into your belly. Pressing wet kisses all over your forehead and cheeks. Slowly rocking his hips, enjoying the feeling of cum leaking out of you.

#prince zuko smut #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #fire lord zuko #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko live action #prince zuko fanfic #avatar the last airbender

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usmsgutterson · 10 months ago

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Exactly Where I Want To Be - S.R x gn! reader

Okay!! Second Spencer Reid fic I've written and posted in less than a week, and I kind of feel like I have a bit of a winning streak--when I've not been binging criminal minds or crocheting, I've been writing for Spencer or thinking about it.

My requests are wide open to him so if you have any ideas, send them in and I'll be happy to write them out!! Smut is welcome but might take a little longer (smut for some reason takes me longer to write than other genres do) and I'm willing to write anything within reason!

Fic type - this one bounces all over, but it's primary genres are fluff, angst, and hurt/comfort

Warnings -there are mentions of criminal minds canon typical violence and as such, guns are mentioned and depicted in use. Other warnings include mentions of stalking, depictions of being shot, and mentions of being in a previous relationship that was manipulative (reader was with a guy who was a total ass pre-BAU and it's mentioned he wanted more arm candy than actual person to be in a loving relationship with), there are mentions of dementia and alcoholic dementia as well as a few of the symptoms, mentions of alcoholism, drug dependency and addiction, and this is really, really long. It runs at 13k post-edits.

TWENTY-TWO / TWENTY-THREE

You join the BAU just a little while after Spencer does—three months, one week, and four days. Spencer counts it during a particularly boring afternoon, after he’s zoomed through most of the files sitting on his desk and has just about nothing else to do. Your desk is across from his and he’s remembered the date you’d joined the team since you waltzed into the offices, so it’s pretty easy to count it out.

He’d joined on July 22nd, 2001, whereas you’d joined on November 2nd of the same year. You’d been only a year younger than he and you proved, rather quickly, that you were among the only people who could keep up with Reid on a consistent basis. The only other people who could really accomplish that were Elle, Gideon, and Hotch, but it served to make yours and Spencers bond stronger as you settled in.

Spencer knew he had a habit for going off on tangents without really meaning to, but unlike the rest of the team, you seemed fairly unbothered by it, and even if you were reading a book or knitting or doing something else when Spencer had started, it was clear to him that you’d been listening by the end.

You’d been Hotchs mentee, so to speak, and your aptness for listening to Spencer when it seemed nobody else was listening was something Hotch picked up on whip quick, bringing it up to you in what feels like both rightly subtle and unconsciously unsubtle as the two of you walk stand in the elevator.

“If you like him and it goes anywhere, you do realize you’ll no longer be able to be partnered up while you’re in the field?” Hotch asks, his voice quiet. “You won’t be eligible for a promotion of any kind, either, as it’s not permitted for bosses to date their subordinates.”

You snort. “It’s not like that,” you say, because right now, it doesn’t feel like it is. “You don’t have to worry, Hotch. I like him, but—platonically. I look at him with such a platonic set of eyes that even the best of friends envy it, I promise.”

“If--and I say if because Gideon has taken to saying when while Spencer and you aren’t in earshot—it does happen, you need to file the appropriate paperwork and ensure that at least Gideon and I are aware as to the goings on.”

You laugh.“It’s not like that,” you repeat. “Spencer doesn’t look at me that way, and I don’t look at him that way, either. Like I said. So platonic it’s envious.”

Hotch cracks a small smile, something you never really see but are glad to nonetheless because it cuts the tension like it’s a freshly sharpened knife.

“Five bucks says he’s gotten you a tea and set it on your desk,” Hotch says. “I don’t make bets, but if I did, I think I’d win that one.”

You glance at the hot chocolate you hold in your right hand, the one that is certainly not for you, but for your coffee-resistant friend with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, and crack a smile.

“I do, too,” you admit. The elevator doors open and the two of you go inside, going your separate ways as Hotch heads for his office and you go to your desk, intending to hit the ground running because you have a long day of paperwork in need of doing.

You set the hot chocolate down on Spencers desk. He doesn’t look up as you sit across from him at your own, but you hear his usual “thank you, Y/N,” as he grabs for it with his left hand, the pen he’s using to fill out the paperwork still in his right.

“Yeah,” you respond, shrugging and catching sight of the tea he’d bought you, sitting right next to the pile of paperwork you intend to spend the next eight hours tackling. “No problem. Are we still on for our Doctor Who marathon tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer confirms as you wheel yourself over to the left corner of your desk. You keep the files there, so that they’re right within your vicinity, and it’s always where Spencer places the tea he gets you so that you can grab it along with the first piece of paperwork on the pile you so meticulously assemble. “Yeah. Picking up from where we left off with doctor number six.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Thanks for the tea.”

“No problem,” Spencer says. He looks up as you take the first sip, and the smile that comes after is almost contagious to him. “I got the right place?”

The two of you have a thing going on and have had it from the first month after you’d joined the BAU and had learned of each others drink preferences—every single time you got each other a hot chocolate or a tea in the morning, you did it at a different spot. In the three years since you’d joined, you’d gone to dozens of different spots in and around the Quantico area, and both of you had developed favorites.

Yours was Izzies—their London fog lattes were like nothing else, just caffeinated enough to give you the boost you needed throughout the day, and you’d learned that they made an iced London fog that was just as good, if not even better.

Spencers was the one with the cutesy kind of name, something Derek occasionally made fun of him for—I Love You A Latte was the name, and they made a hot chocolate that was super smooth and a lavender tea that could will Spencers body into sleep like just about nothing else was capable. It was run by a sweet old lady from West Virginia who’d known both you and Spencer by name and was occasionally at the tills when you were there to pick up a hot chocolate for Spencer.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Izzies is the best for their tea.”

“I Love You A Latte makes the best hot chocolate on this side of Virginia,” Spencer says. “Thanks again, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond. “Thank you, too.”

Spencers response comes in the form of a nod, and that’s the end of your interactions until you’re two minutes out from taking lunch, setting your pen onto your desk and shaking your hands out.

You tend to grip pens, pencils and the like the same way you hold onto a crochet hook or knitting needles—with a grip so tight that your knuckles get a few shades lighter, usually without you even realizing. As a result, you deal with hand pain on a semi frequent basis, and shaking your hands out every time you’re going to lunch is a habitual thing for you now.

“Going to lunch?” Spencer asks, eyes flitting up from his file. You nod.

“My mother sent along some money for my birthday last weekend, which means that I have a date with a box of garlic fingers and an alfredo pasta breadbowl from Antonios,” you grin. “I can never eat the garlic fingers in full, though—they give you what they call half-plates, and I can usually only eat my way through half of the half. I’ll bring it back for you, if you want?” You offer as you grab your bag, stand, and walk over to his desk.

“That’s not necessary,” Spencer says. “I--you don’t have to do that.”

“No fun facts about the passage of germs through food?” You joke, ruffling his hair. “Don’t be ridiculous, Spencer. I’ll bring you what’s left, and I’ll make sure it’s as not-germy as possible.”

Spencer smiles at you in a way that almost makes you want to forget the words you’d told Hotch earlier. You want to be the opposite of platonic, if you’re being honest with yourself, which you have a tough time doing on even your best days.

You leave, heading for your car with an almost gleeful way about you because of the thought of Antonios. You wonder what Spencer is thinking, linger on the idea that he’s thinking about you for three seconds too long before you let it go. Platonic is the best way to be with your coworkers, and despite how much you wish it were different, it’s the best way to be with Spencer, too.

A week later, Gideon is leaving the office as Spencer is readying himself for another late night. Gideon stops at Spencers desk just for the sake of checking in, catches him on the tail end of a giddy “thank you!” bubbling up from your lips after Spencer had made you an earl grey tea while he was making himself some hot cocoa.

Gideon smiles knowingly, in a way that almost has Spencer convinced he can see right through him.

“Just thought I’d check in,” he says. “These late nights will do you a lot more harm than good in the long run, Spencer. Are you sure you can handle this?”

Spencer nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Just have a few more files I’d like to get done before my weekend off, is all. Don’t worry about it, Gideon. I’m fine.”

“And you’re totally not here for—other reasons--?” Gideon looks pointedly at you. Spencer follows his gaze on impulse and is completely unsurprised to find you engrossed in a file, using your mug of tea as a paper weight while you fill it out, your non dominant hand clutching the mug like a heat seeking missile.

Spencer shakes his head. “Just want to finish the last of my files so I have less work on Monday,” he answers. “Nothing like that, I swear.”

Gideon shakes his head like he doesn’t believe him, and Spencer has no rebuttal because he’s being completely honest. When Gideon claps him on the shoulder as he moves to leave, Spencer is the closest to relieved he’s ever gotten in a situation that borders on that level of intensity.

“Everything okay, Spence?” You ask, gaze not moving up from the file in front of you.

“Everything’s fine, Y/N/N,” he says. “Gideons just—he's being weird.”

“Hotch has been weird lately, too,” your voice goes soft. “I think it’s just an office old man thing. I dunno—thirty-eight is hardly old, but Gideons climbing up to fifty. He might be going senile a little earlier than what’s written on the docket.”

“Gideon? No,” Spencer laughs. “And, anyway—dementia isn’t commonly developed until the person with the disease is at least 60, although there have been cases of people developing it as early as 30 years old and there’s a case of childhood dementia with one in every 2900 babies globally. I won’t worry about dementia in Gideon until I notice his memory starting to falter or his communication starting to change, or any of the other symptoms, and even then, for his wifes sake, I’ll hope It’s origin can be treated with modern medicine.”

“I thought dementia was an incurable disease?”

“It is,” Spencer nods. “There are treatable causes for it, not that the disease itself can be cured—treatment is always an option. It can stem from a lot of different things, such as diabetes, a traumatic brain injury, or substance abuse.”

You nod. “My grandfather got hit with it from the excessive booze drinking,” you say. “I wasn’t around him a lot—my mother didn’t want me to be, didn’t want me to know a drunk when I was that young. He died when I was fifteen, and in that time, I’d only seen him twice. Dementia is pretty damn heartwrenching, I think.”

Spencer nods, eyes going back to the file in front of him. “Yeah,” he says. “I can’t imagine it. I hate thinking about that sort of thing—the idea of forgetting anything that I’ve learned is enough to scare me into an early grave.”

You laugh. “Okay,” you say, nodding. Spencer knows it's your not-so-subtle way of moving the conversation along, but he's grateful for it because if he talks anymore about dementia he'll probably cry himself to sleep. “In other news, I picked up a stray cat I found in the parking lot of a Joanns the other night.”

Spencers eyes widen, his gaze moving to you. “You found a stray?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes meeting his. “I took her to the vet this morning—it's why I was late coming in. She’s got a perfect bill of health, surprisingly, and she likes my apartment a lot. Loves the windowsill.”

“Does this stray have a name yet?”

“I named her Megatron,” you laugh. “She’s so small, and I love ironic names like that. If I ever adopt a Maine Coon, I’ve already decided their name is gonna be Tiny.”

Spencer laughs, and the both of you go back to focusing on your files, and Spencer loves it.

He loves how simplistic things feel between the two of you—conversations can stop and start again after hours without talking, and it just feels easy, inherently, being in your presence. It’s not anything Spencer has ever felt with anyone else, but after three years, it’s one of the few things in his life that he has and actively cherishes.

When he leaves, he doesn’t do so without making you another tea. He uses it as a means of bidding you good night when he knows you’re planning to stay for another hour, at least, and when he hears your shouted “Night, Spence!” as he goes, he dips his head to look at his shoes and barely manages to hide his smile.

TWENTY - FIVE / TWENTY-SIX

“Megatron, I’m home!” You sing-song as you unlock your apartment door and step inside. You’re home from a particularly tough case, and Spencer is with you because it’s just one of those nights and the idea of either of you being alone makes both of you want to suffocate.

Megatron, a cat with brown fur everywhere except her paws and chin, comes running at the sound of your voice, but when she sees Spencer, she bypasses you and runs right up to him. She gets on her hind legs so that she can headbut Spencers hand as he shuffles out of his shoes, and as you take off your coat, you laugh at the sight.

Spencers momentarily distracted as he gives her some of his undivided attention, and it doesn’t surprise you, how quickly Megatron starts purring.

“You’re her favourite person,” you laugh. “One would think, three years gone, it’d be me, but alas, Dr. Spencer Reid takes the cake.”

Spencer shrugs as Megatron lets him do his thing and chooses to approach you instead. “I think we both tie for first in her little brain.”

You bend down to give her some lovins and laugh at the way she aggressively headbuts your forehead, a clear demand for forehead kisses. You give in as Spencer takes off his coat and hangs it on your coat rack, happily doting on her as she always expects you to when you come home after being gone for a few days.

“You want to order some pizza?” You offer as Megatron goes to her food bowl. Spencer crosses through to the dining room, where he unceremoniously sets his messenger bag onto the dining table. “I’m completely biased in saying this, but Antonios makes the best pizza this side of Virginia. I’ve been a regular since I first moved here, right when I was joining the BAU at 19. They’ve got good pasta and bread bowls, too, and it’s fairly cheap, considering.”

Spencer nods. “Pizza sounds nice,” he says. “Could I use your shower, by chance?”

You’re nodding before you can stop to think about it. “There’s a pair of sweats and a shirt you can change into after in the guest room, and towels are in the linen closet.”

Spencer nods, having heard this spiel before. You recite it to him pretty much every time he spends the night at your apartment, first as a just-in-case thing and now as a habit.

As he showers, you turn the kettle on and grab two mugs. Spencer, ever the insomniac, likes himself a little bit of lavender tea in the evenings because it helps him relax when he otherwise wouldn’t be able to, and relaxing helps ease his mind into sleep.

You’ve known that since he first spent the night and asked if you had any, which, thankfully, you did. You’ve made it a habit to have some lavender tea at your apartment since then, just in case, and it hasn’t failed you yet.

You’re more of a chamomile with half a tablespoon of honey kind of person—you've been dealing with insomnia since some unknown cause spurred it on when you were eighteen, and in the seven years since, while not a lot had really helped you get to sleep the chamomile and honey always did. The tea always seemed to work the best when you were coming back from a case, your nerves still pushed all the way over the edge and your body on high alert.

Spencer comes back out into your kitchen after fifteen minutes, his hair towel dry and curly in all of the right spots, but his smile warm. He approaches the dining table and grabs his glasses from it, changing from his contacts to his glasses as you turn on your hotplate and use the back side of a spoon to squeeze most of the water out of the teabags before you chuck them into your compost bin and finish making the teas.

You set the mugs on the hotplate and let them marinate for a few minutes as you call Antonios and order your usual—a large chicken Alfredo pizza, two Alfredo pasta bread bowls, a box of garlic fingers and two cans of iced tea—and Spencer puts his contacts back into their case.

He looks so absurdly good in the glasses that it’s never going to cease to borderline upon mind boggling.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling gently. “Thank you—for letting me use your shower, and everything.”

You shrug. “It’s no problem,” you say as Megatron the cat headbuts the back of your calves until you side step with your right foot and she can worm her way into the gap between your feet. “It’s never been a problem, Spence. Are you feeling okay?”

That case had been a tough one, for both of you. It’d taken you, as many cases do, down to the Florida area. The killer was a 20-something white guy attending the local community college, and he crossed all lines with regards to socioeconomic status, risk, and gender. The guy didn’t have a type, really—at the start of his assaults, he’d killed two high risk victims in the vicinity of three days. The week after he’d gone for medium risk victims and then the third week, at which point you and the team had landed in LA, he’d broken into three separate homes, all low risk victims, like he was climbing down some weird totem pole, and his MO never stayed consistent.

In the end, Derek had almost gotten shot, and you’d wound up with mild bruising on your arms, but thankfully, nobody else had been scathed in the aftermath.

“I’m fine,” Spencer nods. “Yeah--all good. Are you? You’re the one I think I need to worry about, never mind myself.”

You bite your lip. “A little sore but I’m okay,” you respond. Megatron abandons her spot between your feet and jumps up onto the counter instead, eliciting a surprised laugh from Spencer as he eyes her carefully so as to make sure she doesn’t get so close as to be able to step on the hotplate. “The bruises only really hurt when I touch them. I’m not shaken up or anything, I don’t think.”

You turn to grab the milk from your fridge, bending briefly to grab it from the bottom shelf on the side door, careful to avoid the fridge touching any of your bruises as you set the milk on the counter and close the fridge in the process.

You take the mugs off of the hotplate and turn the hotplate off, grabbing Megatron and gently ushering her away from it as you pass the milk to Spencer. You grab the honey and measure out just a tad bit more than half a tablespoon into yours, ever one to measure in the metrics of your heart. You stir the honey with one of the teaspoons that you keep in your cutlery drawer specifically for the occasion of making it, passing one to Spencer as he slides the milk your way.

You add a splash of milk to yours before you put it into the fridge and hear the doorbell. Spencer goes to get it despite your protests, pays for the order because “you’re letting me stay at your apartment, Y/N. I’ll get it this time” and brings it back into the kitchen, sets it on the dining table.

You grab paper plates and eat, the affair mostly silent, even as Megatron sniffs around and tries to get bites at your food.

As is usual whenever you or Spencer stay at each others places and order Antonios, the pizza and garlic fingers wind up unfinished. You set them aside in tupperware containers and label one with Spencers name, as he would do for you if you were at his place. It’s a conscious decision at this point—you order more than you can eat so that you have food to take into the office the next day or to just reheat in your microwave if you get the chance to take the day off.

The two of you migrate to the couch as you drink the teas that, despite your efforts with the hotplate, have gone lukewarm.

“I just—I was just thinking about it on the jet back, is all,” Spencer says. He’s referring to a book you’ve read recently and just cannot, even if it’d save your life as a gun was pressed to your temple, stop thinking about. “Read it the other night, and—yeah. It’s not my usual thing but you do make a few decent points about it.”

“It’s not usually my thing, either,” you confess. “I don’t read young adult and I haven’t much read it since I was one, but it was on a table and I read the back, and—c'mon, Spencer. A book written from the perspective of death itself. How much more intriguing can you get, really?”

Spencer shrugs. “Pretty intriguing, I guess,” he says. “It was a really good book, Y/N. I can see why you’d find it an interesting perspective to read from—death is one of lifes many unanswered questions, and the prose was written really well.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “You’re the only person I can really talk about books with, if I’m honest. I mean—I like to use books to shut my brain off and you like to use them differently, but—you're the only person who gets it, I think.”

This brings a grin to Spencers face. “Yeah,” he says. “Did you read the book I told you about? The one by--”

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” you nod. “A Study in Scarlet—it was really good, which I did find a little surprising because I’ve always kind of found Sherlock Holmes a little gimmicky. I am the first to admit that I’ve never really liked any of the screen adaptations, but I love the way that he writes. Genuinely some of the better stuff I’ve read from that era, and I’ve read a lot of books from that time.”

“Sherlock is hardly gimmicky,” Spencer rebuts. “I mean—one has to ignore all of the mediums and ways in which it has since been adapted, but—it's not as gimmicky as it could be.”

“’Not as gimmicky as it could be’ implies that you’re acknowledging how gimmicky Sherlock can get,” you retort. “It’s good writing, Spence. As someone who has read and reread several books I haven’t liked in the name of a PhD in lit, it’s really good writing and I enjoyed it thoroughly, but the original version of the work beats out any and all adaptations by default for me because the original version of Sherlocks story is the only one I have so far enjoyed.”

Spencer shrugs, takes a sip of his tea. “You make a point,” he concedes. “You’ve gotta read the other books in that universe, though—I'll lend you my copy of the second book.”

“I can just buy and read it on my Kindle,” you respond.

“I’ll lend you my copy,” Spencer says again. “Digital is crap, and we know it.”

You snort, grabbing your own mug and taking a sip thats bigger than you mean for it to be but fine nonetheless—you love your tea when it’s hot or warm, even, but lukewarm and moving into cold territory is only good when it’s what you’re looking for, and it never is what you’re looking for when you’re drinking your chamomile.

“Fine,” you relent, laughing. “You can lend me your copy.”

Spencers grin turns triumphant, and for half a second you’re sure he’ll start cheering.

“And, for the record,” you say. “Digital is not crap all the time—only with regards to books. I just like my Kindle because it lets me bring four or five books along with me wherever I go, and they’re like, two taps away. It’s easier to have four books on what’s essentially a tablet instead of stuffing four of them into my go bag.”

Spencer shrugs. “You make a fair point,” he says. “This time, anyway. I’ll prove you wrong somehow.”

You laugh, and you catch a very specific look in Spencers eye.

It's there for all of two seconds, tops, and then his smile dims and it’s gone, but for those two seconds, he looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be.

He looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be, sat across from you on your couch with his legs criss-crossed and a lukewarm mug of tea tucked in between his palms.

“You might,” you concede. “For now, though—topic switch! Uh—has Gideon seemed a little off to you, lately? Like he’s thinking about retiring or something?”

“No,” Spencer answers. “I think you’re watching him too closely and overthinking it. He’s fine. So is Hotch, if you’re worried about him.”

You laugh. “I know Hotch is fine,” you retort. “He’d tell me if he weren’t, but I just—I know how much Gideon means to you and I hate the idea of him leaving when he’s the reason you’re here in the first place.”

Spencers face softens up a little, and there it is again—the look in his eyes that was so fleeting that you almost didn’t catch it.

“He might’ve been the one who brought me down to Quantico and helped me get the job I have, but—he's not the reason I’m here here,” Spencer says. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Y/N, but I’m exactly where I want to be right now and Gideon staying or leaving will do absolutely nothing to influence that.”

You grin at him because the words did what they were supposed to by providing reassurance and you can’t think of anything more to say.

Spencer gets to standing. “I’m going to go to bed,” he says. “I’m assuming you’re going to stay out here for another hour, maybe wallow in your anxieties a little bit?”

You laugh. “You, Spencer Walter Reid, know me too deeply.”

He shrugs. “Good night, Y/N,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod, and it’s only after his back has turned and he’s headed in the direction of your guest room that you have an epiphany.

You look at Megatron as you hear her tiny little footsteps approaching, and when she climbs up onto your lap and headbuts your shoulder, the realization sets in bone deep. It becomes something you can't ignore anymore, not like you have been for the past three years.

“Oh, Meggy,” you whisper as you press your forehead against hers. “I’m in it deep, aren’t I?”

She meows like a kind of confirmation, almost, and the thought sets in, spoken into your mind like a voice through a loudspeaker.

I’m falling for him. I am falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Another thought occurs, just as loud as the first.

Oh, God.

You finish your tea, rush to the kitchen with Megatron on your heels and set your dirty mug in the sink. You go to bed and it takes you a stupid amount of time to fall asleep even though Megatrons loud purring is enough to get you knocked out after a while.

Spencer places a London fog onto your desk in an almost wordless manner about a week and a half later. You’re chatting away with Penelope, who’d stopped at your desk to deliver to you two of the carrot muffins she baked and you adored.

You turn your attention from Penelope as Spencer settles back in at his desk, mug of black but still sweeter than fiction coffee in his non dominant hand, pencil already tucked into his dominant one.

“Thank you!” You chirp gratefully. You love any and everything earl grey and it’s been like that since before you started with the BAU.

“You’re welcome,” Spencer responds. Your attention turns back to Penelope and his goes back to the file at hand, and the time passes with ease. Spencer focuses on his files and does so until he’s down to two and you’re down to one.

“I were a bettin’ man,” you start. “I’d say there’s no way you can finish both files before I get my last one done.”

“I have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words a minute,” Spencer says. “If you made bets, you’d lose this one.”

“Sometimes, you make a bet while knowing you’re probably going to lose it,” you answer. “I mean, shit—When I was sixteen, I bet I wouldn’t live to see my nineteenth birthday. Thought for sure I’d win that one, but on the morning of my nineteenth, I walked to the local bakery, bought half a dozen carrot muffins and stuck a candle in one. I lit it, I blew it out, and I lost the bet I’d made with myself three years prior.”

“You thought you’d win,” Spencer says, ignoring how achy your subtle admission makes his chest feel.

“Well, there have been others,” you laugh. “I was two weeks away from joining up with the BAU and I still thought I’d never do it, let alone at nineteen years old. I made that bet figuring I’d lose it, figuring I’d walk in here on my first day and just know I was where I was meant to be, and I did. I lost that bet knowing I’d wind up losing.”

Spencer shrugs. “All right,” he says. “Game on, Y/N. If I win, you owe me one answer to a question of my choice.”

“Deal,” you respond. “If I win, I want the same but in reverse.”

Spencer nods, and for the next thirty minutes, as Derek occasionally glances up and watches the two of you with a not-so-hidden smirk, all that’s really heard is the sound of pens and pencils on paper.

Spencer winds up winning, and it’s after he wins that Derek decides he’s done for the day and the two of you are the only two in the office.

“You get one question,” you say. “Go on. Out with it.”

Spencer knows a fair bit about you—you were born and raised in Maine, had an IQ on a similar caliber to his own but didn’t really use it the same way he did. He knew you had a past you didn’t really like talking about and he usually didn’t pry, but just this one time, he tells himself, he’ll ask a question that it’s been sitting in the back of his mind since you joined and the tidbits about who you are as a person started coming in.

“What’s the biggest reason you left Maine?” He asks.

You laugh. “You and your tea claims to love me but here you are, asking me a question that I’d only ever willingly answer after nine o’clock. Smart move, Spence,” you say.

Spencer shrugs. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I left Cape Elizabeth for realsies for the last time when I was nineteen,” you answer. “Hotch had been trying to get me to let him mentor me for a few months, and—well, there was this shithead ex boyfriend who just wouldn’t leave me alone for the longest time. I left when Hotch asked me if I’d at least come down for a few days, and I haven’t gone back since.”

Spencer blinks. “That explains a lot,” he says.

“It explains why I don’t really have a social media presence,” you say. “And why the only evidence I’m working in law enforcement is my employment article, which doesn’t even list an active phone number. He never stalked me, and I doubt he’d have the fucking gall to do it even after I’ve been gone for six years, but it still spooks me big freakin’ time. Ask me another question, please.”

Spencer laughs. “Favorite pastry?”

“Pain au chocolat, easy,” you answer. “Next one. Dig deeper this time, Spencer. I’m hopped up on caffeinated tea and will tell you just about anything that’s deeper than surface level.”

“Why do you like crocheting and knitting so much?” Spencer asks.

“It turns my brain off,” you confess. “I hate working with straight needles—don't understand how my grandmother did it for so long but I respect it. I love crocheting because it works as good as my anxiety meds when I don’t have them on hand, and I love knitting because, yeah, it’s more labour intensive and takes longer, but the end product is just gorgeous every single time. Color work is easier in crochet, though. Crochet tapestry is amazing. I tend to use crochet for anxiety and dopamine because it works up whip quick and stuff like cardigans won’t take me 140 hours. Knitting is the kind of thing I do when I want to put that work in, though. I don’t really do it as often as I’d like to but when I do do it, I’m really meticulous about the pattern I use, and the yarn I choose for the project, and—you'll know I give a damn about you when I knit you something.”

“You’ve knitted me a few cardigans,” Spencer says. “A purple one, and a navy blue one recently.”

You grin. “I give a stupid number of damns about you, Reid,” you say. “Also Penelope. I’d knit more for Derek if I thought he’d wear what I made him, but he doesn’t seem the type. Hotch accepts the wall art and stuff I make for him when I can find the time but I doubt he has it displayed anywhere. Hotch is an odd case, though. He cares about me but does so from a kind of distance, almost.”

Spencer shrugs. “Gideons the same way,” he says. “When I was dealing with my addiction, he was like an absent kind of parent—there sometimes, but not often.”

You nod. “Everyone was that way with you,” you say. “Gideon especially so, but—nobody really knew how to address it.”

“You did,” Spencer says. “You’re freakishly good at that kind of thing.”

“Alcoholism runs in the family,” you shrug. “I’ve been to many-a intervention, and I know how to spot the signs of addiction from a thousand miles away point blank. I’ve had to pull myself together and narrowly avoided addiction a few times, though not to anything like Dialaudid.”

“I feel like this is going somewhere deep,” Spencer confesses. “When I asked you about Maine—I wasn’t trying to get you to open up to anyone before you were ready. It was fifteen minutes ago but I was an asshole.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I was going to have to open up to someone eventually,” you say. “The fact that it was you is incredibly fitting to me.”

Neither of you have any work to do, but you’re not moving to pack up or do anything. You’re using overtime in order to talk with each other when there is absolutely nobody else in the office, even the likes of Hotch and Gideon having gone home.

Spencer shrugs, grabs the mug that has long since been repurposed, switched out from coffee to tea, and takes a sip from it.

“The boyfriend who drove me to leavings name was James DeLuca,” you say. “He was a trust fund kid who thought he beheld all the power in the world in a town where it sometimes felt like everyone knew everyone. We dated for eight months before I broke things off, and he hated me for it. I just—I hate the idea of being some rich white guys trophy spouse, y’know? If I’m going to get married or continue a long term relationship with someone, I’m going to do it because I love them, not because I want their money. I’m marrying someone on the merits of love or I’m not doing it at all, no matter what some idiot trust fund baby thinks about that.”

You sigh, and Spencer tilts his head.

“I think he’s got a wife now, a kid or two?” You say. “I dunno—I get Garcia to check on him every year or two, just to make sure he’s not gone on to do something that’ll wind up in VICAP and to make sure he’s not made his way to Quantico. I feel safer knowing he’s not here, and that’s probably me overestimating him, but he seemed capable of murder last we talked, and it scared the shit out of me.”

“If he does come around here, the team has got your back,” Spencer says. “We’ll protect you as best we can, Y/N, you know that.”

You nod. “I routinely trust you guys with my life and I really wouldn’t have it any other way,” you respond. “I just—I don’t know. It’s a stupid anxiety that’s been keeping me up at night for the last six years. I’m sorry to vent like this, Spence. It’s late, and we really should be getting home, right?”

“Y/N,” he says as you bend to pack your things. “Y/N, stop.”

You’re not listening to him, though. You’re too buzzed, the caffeine in your system and the anxiety making a cocktail that Spencer knows to be an awful, devilish little thing.

He stands and before he can think about it, his hand is on your arm. When you turn to look at him, your eyes are slightly wide but you make no move to ask him to stop or to force him away.

“Spencer?” You ask.

“You don’t need to apologize for venting,” he says. “Seriously--I was paranoid for months after the stuff with Tobias Hankel, and that wasn’t entirely the drugs or the withdrawal. If this guy comes after you, we’ll get to him before he can even so much as look at you the wrong way, and I promise you that.”

You lean forward and it takes all of three seconds for Spencer to register your forehead against his shoulder. He doesn’t hate or feel awkward about the touch, which is surprising given how sudden it seems, but he instead welcomes it.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and Spencer huffs a laugh because he knows it’s habitual. “I mean—well, you know what I mean at this point, right?”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods. “I know what you mean, Y/N. Are you sure you’ll be okay to go home alone tonight?”

You pull away, looking up at him and nodding. “The drive is fifteen minutes, and it’s 9:30. I should be fine til I’m in my apartment, and once I’m there, Megatron and her weird ability to sense when something is off with me will do wonders.”

Spencer smiles softly, and he sees what almost looks like love in your eyes. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“Are you not leaving?”

Spencer shakes his head, ignoring the sudden burst of unfamiliar fondness that pokes at his chest when he looks your way.

“Nah,” he says. “I figure I’ll be nice, do a file or two of Morgans so that he has less to worry about tomorrow.”

“Do you want Derek to have less of a workload, or do you just want to stay here and think?”

“I always think clearest when I’m at my desk,” Spencer shrugs. “Goodnight, Y/N/N.”

“Night, Spence,” you say, gathering up the last of your things. Spencer walks over to Morgans desk and plucks two files off the top of his paperwork file as you leave the office, settling into his own desk thereafter.

He stares at the unopened manila folder for a long five or so seconds as the reality that he’s been holding off for at least a year and a half truly sets in.

It makes him laugh.

“I’m so screwed,” he says to himself.

Every single time Derek has accused him of being smitten since he was halfway through twenty-four, he’s been right. It only hits him then, and Spencer feels like just as much of an idiot as Derek has claimed him to be.

TWENTY - NINE / THIRTY

As you run through the only abandoned psych ward within a twenty mile radius of Cape Elizabeth, you have a moment wherein you realize just how stupid you really are.

“James DeLuca, I’m Y/N L/N with the BAU!” Like he doesn’t already know your name and place of employment.

Hotch, of course, disagreed with your plan entirely, but you had been so determined and so convincing that he had agreed to it in the end, as long as there was back up for you posted at the front and back entrances at the first sign of trouble, and as long as you caught him while you were within the first four of eight floors total. If he’d gotten anywhere past the fourth you were to chase him back down within range or talk him down and then call for immediate back up, without firing your gun unless he fired his.

All of it—James’ MO, his signature, even the ways in which he behaved, tied back to you. All of his victims looked like you did in the lead up to when you’d left Maine for Virginia. All of them had similar hobbies, but you doubted the victims would’ve been half as dumb as you were being, going after James like you were.

The psych ward was part of his signature—he took his victims to one of the only abandoned psych wards within the entirety of that town and the next. You could remember why vividly.

Back when you’d initially broken up with him a decade prior, you’d, in a moment of frustration, told him he ought to be admitted into a psych ward if he was going to keep acting so fucking insane. He’d threatened to take you to the very one you were running through, gun and flashlight aimed and ready, and kill you in response.

“James DeLuca, drop your weapon and surrender to the police! This is over, okay? It’s done.”

You turn a corner and bump right into him, like he'd been laying in wait for you that entire time.

“I’ll drop my weapon if you drop yours,” he says. “And only after we’ve had it out. I have shit to say to you, Y/N.”

You take six large steps back, fighting your anxiety off as what remains of it is replaced by adrenaline.

“Okay,” you shrug, figuring that keeping your cool is the best thing you can do around him. The minute he senses you’re even slightly off kilter, he’s liable to go completely off the rails. “Say whatever it is you need to say to me, James, but put the weapon down first. I won’t lower my gun until you lower yours.”

He scoffs. “You wouldn’t shoot me,” he says. “Even with all of your FBI training and how long you’ve been doin’ this for, you don’t have what it takes to kill someone.”

“The rule of thumb within all areas of law enforcement is to avoid shooting unless absolutely necessary, and to be frank, I’d prefer to avoid all the paperwork that’ll come my way if I do shoot you, now put the gun down.”

James is a more adult-y version of the one you can remember—he looks vaguely like a young Timothy Olyphant, if Olyphant had jet black hair, a patchy beard, and was on the stockier side in build. James is a little taller than Spencer, standing at an even 6’4, and shit, fuck it all if he’s not just as scary as he used to be.

James, thankfully, relents. He drops his gun. You holster yours.

“Put it down,” James says, his tone gravelly and demanding.

“From what I can remember of my teen years, you had a pickpockets hands and quick reflexes,” you say. “I’m not going to leave myself absent of a weapon when I know, for a fact, that you can have yours in hand, cocked, aimed, and the safety off within eight seconds. No fucking way, James. That is not how this works. You want to have it out, say what you need to and then we’ll see where this goes after all is said and done.”

“Even if I do shoot you, we’re on the third floor,” James says. “I’ve got my escape route planned, Y/N. I rush down the stairs, make it to the tunnels, and I’m a free man until they realize there are tunnels under this place. They don’t show up on any blueprints because they were dug by miners after the building was abandoned, and there are only two ways to get to them in the building, both of which are well hidden secrets for only those brave enough to look to find.”

“The second you shoot, there’ll be FBI agents swarming the place. You won’t even make it to the second floor without being caught.”

“I have a silencer,” James says, patting his pocket. “I’ve planned this one out, Y/N. Waited a decade to do it, after all.”

You breathe in deep, but don’t request back up yet despite your instincts practically demanding it. It, you decide, is too early.

You nod. “Okay, so you have it planned out, Just—talk, please. Before I get sick of your voice, preferably.”

“I loved you, Y/N,” he says. “I’d bought a ring by the time you left. I was going to propose that weekend, you know that?”

“You loved the idea of me, James,” you say. You’re trying to subtly back up towards the open window. The hallway you’re in faces the front entrance, so if you get shot, the team is going to see it and know what’s what. “You didn’t love me for me. You demeaned me all the time and when you weren’t being demeaning, you were being an asshole. You wanted a trophy spouse, not someone with whom you shared a genuine connection. Is that why you married Rachel? She wanted your money and you wanted some decent eye candy to hold onto your arm at all of your bullshit charity galas?”

James, unfortunately, catches onto what you’re doing. He picks up his gun and carries it as he follows you. You redirect, going back the way you came.

“That’s not it!” James shouts insistently. “That’s not it!”

“Yes it is,” you say, turning the same corner you’d turned only minutes before. “Yes it is, James, and you know that. You just wanted a bangmaid at the end of the day, and saying that is being generous.”

“Are you asking to die?”

“Y’know, you’re the second person to accuse me of being suicidal with regards to this case in the past two weeks,” you retort. Being sarcastic is a bad idea. You know that. You should be trying to talk him down. You know that. But you aren’t, and even if it gets you shot, then at least James will have finally gotten to do the one thing he’s been aching to for a decade. “I’m really gettin’ sick of it. Feels like between you and my boss, I’m hearing a lot of people singing the same fucking tune.”

James laughs. “You are asking to die,” he says. “I dunno if I wanna give you this, knowing it’s what you want from me. Are you still with that pipe cleaner? The one who wears his gun weird.”

“Where did you get the idea that I was ever with him?” Maybe it was four years of unrequited love starting to seep through the cracks to a point of noticeability? “No. It’s never been like that, and don’t you dare bring him into this.”

“He’s got a name,” James taunts. “Dr Spencer Reid, a man with at least three PhDs, two BAs, and an absurd amount of education for someone his age. He's as smart as you are, and if how easily you’ll go down is any indication, I feel like I could shoot him a good thirty feet away and still get the aim right.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say it through gritted teeth, the mere idea of Spencers life being on the line enough to scare you well past your wits end. “You’re making a mistake by bringing him into this, James. My team will go down for me if they have to, but Spencer will make it the opposite of easy for you to kill him, and Garcia will drudge up every ounce of online criminal activity she can find on you just to give the judge more charges to add to your bit.”

“Threatening me now?” James asks, grinning wildly. “Yeah. That’s a mistake.”

You watch as he grabs the silencer and equips it. Because of your adamant refusal to shoot first unless necessary—in pursuit of avoiding more paperwork than the absolutely necessary amount—you start running backwards to keep your eyes on him while minding your footing.

“You tryin' to watch me equip the gun that’s gonna kill you?” James laughs. “You’re more sadistic than I thought, Y/N.”

“You do realize what charges come with the murder or attempted murder of a federal officer?” You respond. “James, don’t be stupid. I know you are inherently, but you’re acting abnormally so today. Please just stop.”

He laughs again, and as you, in a moment of admitted idiocy, turn around to sprint the rest of the way down the hall, he aims his gun.

He lands four shots in your torso in the last three seconds before you turn the corner.

“I’ll come and find you in a decade, Y/N,” James calls. “If you’re not dead of blood loss by the end of the day. If you make it out, we’ll repeat this every decade and my aim will get better each time.”

Your knees buckle, and you pull your phone out as you crawl towards a window. You dial Garcias number as you hear James’ heavyweight footing running in the other direction, towards the stairwell that’s farthest from you.

“Garcia, call an ambulance and send them to 9981 Lilibet Grove,” you say. “Tell them—tell them officer down. Four bullets, two to the chest, one to the hip and one to the—ow, fuck—to the lung.”

“Oh--oh my God!” Is Garcias response. “Are you okay? Please tell me he didn’t shoot you! Please, Y/N--oh my God!”

You’re still ambling toward the only open window, and getting to your feet feels almost impossible, but you do it.

“Agent down, I meant,” you correct. “He shot me, Garcia, and—tell Hotch and the others that James DeLuca is running for the tunnels. Tunnels are under the entire building and he’s intending to use them to escape.”

You collapse when you’re two feet away from the window, but you push forward until your fingers can grip the ledge and drag yourself the rest of the way. You hoist yourself up just enough that Spencer can see you, and you see the fear in his eyes in the last second before you scream his name and collapse harshly onto the tiled ground below your waist.

“Spencer!” You scream, Garcia still on the line.

“Okay,” Garcia says. “Calling the ambulance and patching Spencer through in the meantime, okay? You—don't you dare die on me, you idiot!”

“I’ll do my best,” you say as you listen for the sounds of government issued SUV doors slamming shut. When you hear it, a sense of hope dimly registers in your chest. Your team isn’t going to let you die, and they never would.

“Spencer, talk to Y/N while I call 911 and please do your best to keep them awake the meantime,” Garcia says, voice tinged by a sense of anxiety you’re all too familiar with.

“Y/N,” Spencer greets. “You’re covered in blood.”

“You saw me, then,” you grin, pressing your head against the cold tiled flooring. “Two GSWs to the chest, one to the lung and one to my hip. This fucking sucks.”

“Yeah, it would,” Spencer nods. “You were shot.”

“I should’ve woken up today and made better decisions,” you laugh. “Ow--hurts. I’m on the third floor, about fifteen feet from the western stairwell. James headed east, and I remember that the blueprints indicated there was a stairwell that way, which means that he’s headed for it if he’s not already there. Getting shot is exhausting, Spence.”

“Keep talking,” Spencer says urgently. “I need you awake until they get here, okay? Awake awake. Not awake and quiet, awake and babbling like I do whenever you bring up Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock.”

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“You were complaining about making a blanket out of single crochets before the case started,” Spencer says. “Did you finish it?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Again with the laughter—fuck, Spencer. It really fucking hurts.”

“I know,” Spencer says, tone briefly taking on an empathetic underbelly. “The blanket. Tell me about it, tell me anything.”

“Almost every crocheter does it and lives to regret it,” you laugh. “I figured—I've been crocheting since I was nineteen, why haven’t I done it yet? I gotta.”

“Are you relieved that it’s done?”

“So relieved,” you nod. “Yeah. If I ever have to do a foundation chain of the length of a queen sized bed ever again, I need to you to kill me the second I voice the idea.”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I won’t do that, but I’ll happily talk you out of it. Why did you hate it so much?”

“Single crochets are objectively the easiest stitch—in my heart they’re called single crochets because you only have to yarn over twice counting pulling up a loop but technically once because you only have to yarn over once when you have the two loops on your hook. They’re the smallest crochet stitch next to slip stitches, which I will never ever ever make a blanket out of, unless someone pays me what I make in a year,” you respond. “Imagine doing sixty-inches wide of single crochets and then continuing down until you have 80 inches of single crochets in length. One monotonous step over and over again for a long ass time.”

You hear the stairwell door open. “Also, the Bernat blanket formula is fucking terrible,” you laugh, clutching your side when the same pain kicks up again. “I’m really tired, Spencer.”

“I’m--Y/N, I am thirty feet away from you. Don’t you dare lose consciousness on me.”

“Garcia?” You ask. “Are you back yet?”

“Here and at the ready,” she says. “Ambulances ETA is eight minutes. Was sixteen but you are not allowed to die on me, Y/N, and you certainly aren’t allowed to die on Spencer, so don’t even think about it.”

“You crochet, right?”

“A little,” she says.

“Never make a blanket out of single crochets,” you laugh, clutching your side a bit more intensely in turn. “Ow--I really have to stop doing that.”

“I promise I won’t make a blanket out of single crochets,” Penelope says. “You have my word on that, okay? Which stitch do you recommend?”

“I like granny squares,” you say. “Anything involving a granny stitch? I’m all over it. They’re amazing, Garcia. They’re like the Spencer Reids voice of crochet stitches.”

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Spencer says.

“That good, hm?” is Penelopes rebuttal. “I’ve seen granny square afghans, and they’re gorgeous, so I don’t blame you for that. Spencer, is Y/N within your line of sight?”

“I’m fifteen feet out,” Spencer says. “I’m going to get off the phone. Keep them awake for the next minute, please.”

“Will do,” Penelope says. “Okay--so—the Spencer Reid comment. Are you in love with him?”

“I am delirious, Penelope Grace Garcia, and that is totally unfair,” you snort. It’s followed by a wince and you don’t even try to mask your grimace. “I have four bullet wounds. Ask me once I’m in the recovery unit, please.”

“When you’re in the recovery unit, you’ll probably be doped up on morphine.”

“I’m going to refuse pain medication.”

“You’ve had—what? Four interactions with this guy in the past two weeks, Y/N, three of which have left your ribs bruised or broken, one of which has left four bullet wounds in you!”

“Your point?”

“You will take the pain medication they give you and you will do it with a smile or so help me--”

You feel Spencers hand on your shoulder. “Spencer is here. Ambulance soon?”

“Quicker than you can say ‘Spencer Reid is probably totally the love of my life’, my dear,” she says. “You hang on for us, okay? I’m sure Hotch is going to give you an earful, but—it's because he cares. Rossi does, too.”

You sigh, letting Spencer turn you to face him. “I’m gonna end the call now,” you say. “Thank you Garcia.”

“I’ll be at the hospital when you wake up!” is how she says her goodbye.

You look at Spencer pitifully. “I’m an idiot,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but you're normally smart so I'll let it go just this once,” Spencer laughs. “You’ve seen better days, Y/N. I’ve gotta lift you so I can get you back downstairs.”

“How mad is Hotch?”

“Angrier at himself than at you,” he says. “Being a bit harsh, but he’s got a pass. Are you okay, everything aside?”

“Its all my fault,” you respond. “Eight families are mourning because I left him a decade ago, and—before you try and tell me it’s not, that this would’ve happened no matter what, that’s just not how it is. I left Maine and I did so without so much as a note, and now, a decade later, he’s killed eight people in three months and their blood is on my hands.”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, his tone cautious. “Their blood is not on your hands—your delirious. We can have this conversation when you’re in the hospital.”

“James--I think he’d been stalking me for a few months and I hadn’t realized,” you responded. “Like, he was that good at it maybe? I dunno. He asked if I was still with you, in a romantic sense and I just thought, for a second, why would we ever?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asks, moving to gently hoist you into his arms.

“It--I’ve loved you since I was twenty five,” you respond. “Since that night when we were talking about A Study in Scarlett. I realized it after you’d gone to bed. Maybe that’s just when it set in but you looked at me like you were exactly where you wanted to be and it just—when a pretty boy looks at you like that? It’s very hard not to fall in love on the spot. I happened to do so, which is kind of my own fault.”

He lifts you into his arms and you rest your cheek against his shoulder on impulse. “We’ll discuss this at the hospital,” he says. “For the record—it's not unrequited. Just to get that out of the way.”

“I’m really tired, Spence,” you respond. “I just—I just wanna nap. For a minute.”

“Y/N L/N, don’t you dare,” he says sternly. “Nope. No naps allowed. You can sleep in the ambulance, when they’ll actually have the tools to keep you alive if you end up dying.”

“Spencer,” you whine because you’re exhausted and you can’t help yourself. “Please. Just a minute.”

You hear the door open, and then it’s impossible to sleep because of much Spencer is jostling you around as he rushes down the stairs.

“Asshole,” you grumble when you finally reach solid ground and stay on it for longer than the ten seconds it took Spencer to turn from one flight to the next in between floors.

“Sorry for jostling you around,” Spencer says. “Well--not really. Kept you awake, didn’t it?”

You grip the collar of his shirt in your fist and press your forehead against his shoulder. “You’re gonna owe me a lot of Jell-O once I’m in the recovery unit.”

Spencer laughs. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Cherry?”

“It’s the best kind,” you respond nonchalantly.

When you hear the wail of the ambulance sirens, you don’t panic. You hold onto Spencer as tightly as you can and it’s only when you feel yourself being transferred from his arms to a gurney that the anxiety sets in.

You reach out blindly, trying to find him as most of your head gets lost in the noise. “Spencer--please come with me! Please don’t go. I need someone I know I can trust. I’m too scared to do this alone.”

You feel Spencers hand gently grasp your arm, then dimly register the sound of his voice as he asks to ride with the paramedics. You hear their agreement, then just as you’re being lifted into the back of the ambulance, it’s lights out. You fall asleep before you can even register that’s what you’re doing, and the last thing you see before the exhaustion takes over is Spencers panicked face, blood staining his shirt and vest.

You wind up needing to be put into a coma, and a week later, when Spencer goes to visit you bright and early on his day off, he finds you awake.

It’s been a very long, very tough, week. Not just for him, though—Hotch had been harder on the team as well as himself in the aftermath of your being shot, and even though Rossi tried to help him gently, it ended in a shouting match wherein Rossi outright demanded he go easy on himself and the rest of the team.

Penelope had spent every single day of that week in your hospital room for at least an hour, wanting to be there when you woke up. Derek had gone for long runs before coming into work, and Emily and JJ had both been on edge even while they were filling out paperwork and not in the field.

Spencer was as he always was when he was going through something—sarcastic and snippy as all hell. It got on Hotchs nerves and he and Hotch had yelled at each other a few times that week, but Spencer had forced it to glide off his shoulders. He was there from the minute he got off work til visiting hours were done every single day, and on his day off, he comes in thirty minutes after visiting hours begin to find you awake, an exhausted look on your face as a nurse fills you in on your condition where she’s able.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greet as said nurse goes from explaining the ins and outs to checking your vitals. “Has it been a week? Really?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Garcia is going to be here in half an hour, and I told Hotch I’d call you when you woke up, but—it can wait two minutes.”

“Yeah, it can,” you nod. “How was it? An entire week without me around to bug you for the first time in a decade?”

“Terrible,” Spencer laughs. He approaches you finally, sits on the edge of your bed as the nurse leaves. “I kept getting into fights with Hotch, and it was just—oh my God, please never get shot at like that again. Please never put yourself in that scenario again.”

“I had a thought, as I was running down the hallway on the third floor, about how dumb I was,” you admit. “Even thought about calling for back up but didn’t because it felt a little too early. I promise, Spence, I will never be that stupid again.”

He smiles gently, reaches out and runs his nimble fingers over the scope of your hands. “Good,” he says. “For the record—it was stupid, what you did, but we don’t fault you for it. Emily joked a few days back that she’s made dumber decisions. How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” you respond. Spencers gaze flits to yours, examining your face without meaning to as he looks at you. “Really sore, honestly. Hungry, too.”

“I’ll call Garcia, ask her to stop at the coffee shop you like so you don’t have to eat hospital food,” he says.

“I love you, Spencer,” you respond in what Spencer knows to be a slip up. Even knowing this, his eyes still widen, fingers stopping in their tracks as he traces one word after the next against the soft skin of your forearm.

“Do you remember what you confessed when you were half dead?” He asks, broaching the subject very, very gently. “Because--I do. I have an eidetic memory and I’ve spent the last week unable to stop thinking about it, Y/N.”

You nod. “I do,” you say. “I’ve been known to have better timing than that. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“Do you remember what I said?” Spencer asks.

“You said we’d discuss it at the hospital and that—oh my God,” you press one of your palms against your face. “That it wasn’t unrequited. Oh my God, Spencer. We both had terrible timing on that one, didn’t we?”

Spencer laughs, nods wordlessly. “We did,” he says. “You said it was the night we’d been talking about A Study in Scarlet, but for me, it was different. I realized I’d loved you twice but pushed it down the first time, figured it’d be more of an inconvenience.”

“Tell me more,” you say. Spencer resumes his ministrations, tracing letters that’ll form words with a feather light touch to your forearm. “About the first time, and then also the second.”

“The first time I realized, I was twenty four,” he says. “I dunno—you were talking about Jane Austen with Elle, and it just kind of hit me as I happened to look over at you. It’d been building for a few years at that point, bubbling just under the surface. I buried it, buried myself in my paperwork, and eventually, I thought I’d buried it well enough that it didn’t exist anymore.”

“And the second?”

“It was the night you told me about James,” Spencer shrugs. “I can’t pinpoint what spurred it on, honestly, but I know it was that night. I appreciated—still appreciate—how vulnerable you and I were with each other. You left as I grabbed two folders from Dereks desk and as I sat down to do them, it hit all over again and I just thought: yeah. I’m a goner, aren’t I?” and I’ve been like that ever since.”

You grin. “Okay--” you laugh a little. “Hotch warned me when you were twenty-three and I was twenty-two, that we’d have a shit ton of paperwork to fill out if our dynamic ever took this turn. Now, that’s all I can think about.”

Spencer laughs, shakes his head.

He keeps tracing words over your forearm, and when he kisses your forehead, your eyes are on his ministrations.

“We can’t command our love, but we can our actions,” you whisper. “That’s something Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote. I can’t remember what it’s from, but--”

“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,” Spencer provides, his lips still pressed against your forehead. He kisses it again, and when he pulls away, he sees an unmistakably overjoyed look in your eyes to go with the smile that graces your lips. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but the action I’m going to take is whichever one keeps us together. Even if it means paperwork, or no promotions, or no longer going out into the field together. We’re always better when we tag team geographical profiles, anyway, and your desk will still be across from mine. Only difference now is that when I bring you tea, there might just be a forehead kiss to accompany it, provided Hotch isn’t in the bullpen.”

You grin, and when Spencers phone goes off, you let him answer it.

“Hi!” Penelope greets. “The hospital told me they didn’t have to call you as you’d already shown up and you were the first on their emergency contact list, but I am on the way! I’m bringing everyone else and also bagels. Is Y/Ns favorite place for tea still Izzies?”

“It’s been their favorite spot for ages and I don’t think it’ll ever be subject to change,” he answers. “Is everyone okay?”

“Hotch and Rossi look relieved for the first time in literal days,” Garcia laughs. “But yeah—everyones okay. Is Y/N?”

“Y/N is tired and hungry but otherwise fine,” Spencer says. “Sore, I think, too, but that’s not confirmed, just an assumption.”

“Did you tell them yet?” Penelope asks, and he can practically hear the eyebrow quirks in her question, the smile in her tone.

“That has been discussed to an extent,” Spencer says.

“What kind of extent, boy genius?” Derek calls from somewhere near Penelopes phone.

“We’ll both have some paperwork we'll need to do once they’re back in the office, and we won’t be able to go out into the field anymore or be eligible for promotions, but—worth it. So freakin’ worth it.”

He smiles at you, and you grin in response.

“Yay!” Penelope shouts. “I am going to bring Y/N the biggest London fog I can get from Izzies, as well as bagels and the rest of the team. I’ll see you guys in a bit?”

“See you soon, Penelope.”

He hangs up the phone and looks at you, sees the exhaustion in your eyes as you reach over and press the morphine button.

“What happened to ‘I’m not going to ask for pain meds’?”

“Getting shot in the chest hurts like a motherfucker,” you murmur. “Now--c’mere. Please. You’re so warm and I’m so cold.”

Spencer laughs, watches you scootch over a little in the bed and make room for him.

In the end, Spencers back is on the mattress and you’re curled up, minding the wires and tubes connecting you to an IV and your pain meds, on his right. Your head is against his shoulder and as you fall asleep, your breathing evens out. Spencer doesn’t think he’s ever felt this content in the entire thirty years he’s been alive, doesn’t want to know if it can get any better than it is.

THIRTY - THIRTY-ONE

You're laughing along with a joke Rossi makes, sipping the glass of wine you've been nursing for ages, when you feel Spencers hands on your shoulders.

"Hi," Spencer greets just before he kisses the side of your head. Rossi grins at the display of affection, his smile warm and almost fatherly.

"I didn't know the two of you back when you started," he says. "Hotch did, though, and he told me the other night, he'd seen this coming from a mile away. Was shocked it took you guys so long, but wasn't surprised it happened."

You shrug. "His IQ is 187 and mine is close to it," you say. "That doesn't quite mean we're exempt from our moments of idiocy."

Spencer nods. "Yeah," he says. "Plus, the idea of the extra paperwork was a little daunting, at first." He jokes, kissing your temple again.

"Worth it?" Rossi asks, and both of you nod.

"I wish I'd done it a lot sooner, personally," you admit. "I kind of hate that I told him I loved him while I was half dead, but life gave me a lemon and I made lemonade, so it all worked out."

You let yourself melt into Spencers embrace as Rossi walks away, catches JJ and Will and decides to talk with them for a while. You sip your wine as Spencer shoots off at the mouth about how lemons are man made and were developed through years of creating hybrid citruses, grateful to be standing at that event, in Spencers arms, at all.

Spencer grins at the sight as Megatron curls up on your chest. It’s the early hours of the morning and neither of you have work, but Spencer has woken up at 6:30, regardless of the day of the week, since he started working at the BAU.

She’s been extra loving with you since you were shot and wound up in a coma last year, has become somewhat co-dependent but only really displays these traits when it’s after dark or you’re asleep and she’s able to be affectionate without you poking fun at her.

She sprawls out over your chest and somewhat onto your stomach, and when she starts purring, she purrs at the noise level of a freight train, per usual.

“Morning, Meggy,” Spencer greets, running a finger along her chin affectionately. He’s doing anything he can to avoid starting his day because, since you’d started dating and spending the night at each others apartments more regularly, Spencer had discovered how nice it really was to curl up in bed and just kind of waste the morning away. He’d never seen the point in it while he was single or in love with you but doing nothing about it, but since your relationship had started, he loved spending his off days like that.

He, rather begrudgingly, climbs out of bed. He goes to your bathroom and uses the spare toothbrush you keep for him to use whenever he spends the night, tidies up the dining room from the previous nights dinner and washes the dishes used before putting them onto the empty drying rack. He heads back into your bedroom after taking the necessary steps to make your life just a little easier, and when you wake up an hour and a half later, it’s eight thirty and you greet him with an exhausted smile.

“Hi,” you greet. “Anything from Garcia yet?”

“She called me around midnight,” Spencer confesses. “You’d been asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What’s the news?”

“James DeLuca was caught in the maritimes, along the Canadian coast,” Spencer says. “They’ve brought him back to the states, and right now it’s looking a lot like he’ll get the death penalty.”

You curl up against him, wrapping your arms around his waist, and Spencer knows it’s because the news feels like a bit of a relief. A year since he’d narrowly evaded arrest, and the man who almost killed you has been caught. It has to feel like a supermassive weight being lifted off your chest, and Spencer himself was relieved to hear the news when Garcia had phoned.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses his lips to your forehead. You’d spent a year looking over your shoulder and yielding no results, but now you never would have to do that again.

“He’s behind bars, Y/N,” he says. “He’s not a threat anymore.”

He feels your smile against his neck and can’t help the shiver that goes down his spine. Megatron, ever observant and attention-seeking, plops herself onto the centre of Spencers chest, to your amusement.

“I never have to worry about him again,�� you whisper. “That--that’s wonderful.”

“Mhm,” Spencer says. “Now, I don’t really think either of us need to get out of bed, per se, until the afternoon. I say we just relax for a while, soak it in and maybe give Megatron some tummy rubs.”

You laugh. “I really like that plan,” you say. Spencer kisses your forehead again.

He soaks it in—how good it feels, to be with someone he cherishes so deeply. It feels amazing to not have anything on his plate, not a stressful case or some stupid argument with Derek that he’s overthinking.

It feels amazing to be in your presence, to only really have to worry about how painful it’ll be when Megatron inevitably gets up and puts all her weight into her two front paws when she leans forward and aggressively headbuts Spencers jaw until he gives her what she wants or how, when you take to wanting a forehead kiss or otherwise, you’re liable to press your forehead against his shoulder until he gives in.

It feels amazing because this, right here, in this moment, is exactly where Spencer wants to be. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else, is so happy with you and Megatron that he’s almost drowning in it.

It’s a feeling that, before you’d started dating, rarely came about, but one he’s always going to cherish, no matter the circumstance.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader

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pyre-of-pages · 1 month ago

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As a boring writer of non-angsty, romantic stories, I'm curious about your ideas for romance scenes! Who's involved? Are they tender and loving or dirty animals getting it on? Or does that depend on who's involved?

I am someone who cannot write sex without a lot of character build-up in my head. I try to relay that info to the audience, even if I'm doing a smutty one-shot.

I'm also a sucker for emotional depth and a true connection between characters. There's space for enjoying plain smut where no character depth is present and the characters are strangers -- but I will MELT for a sex scene where the characters communicate and care for each other. I'm not into sadism or anything malicious/cruel during sex (as in I don't find it hot, personally). I'm a big 'ol softie who enjoys seeing characters cuddle after passionate sex -- even if the sex itself is on the dirtier/rougher side (which *does* depend on the characters).

~~~~~

As far as smut fics go, I currently only have one *purely* smut-focused fic planned (sex scenes in more plot-based series is another thing). I'm including this premise under "romance scenes" because I do, in fact, make my smut romantic:

Elur becomes romantically involved with her classmate Onmund when they're Adept students (think, like . . . the equivalent of college juniors). They don't have a ton of opportunity to get romantic with each other at night because . . . well, the College dorms are doorless and very, very echoy. So, they usually have to sneak out at night to rent a room at the Frozen Hearth. They're not trying to keep their relationship a secret -- but both of them are introverted dorks and would get red in the face if their classmates overheard them making love. Elur gets the idea to spice stuff up in the bedroom and learns there are some "black spine" spell tomes that exist out there -- you just gotta know where to look because GODS KNOW none of the professors at the school offer them. Luckily, Elur knows a guy. She knows she isn't the first to ask Enthir to procure such books at the school, but that doesn't make the ask any less embarrassing for her. What makes it worse is when Enthir asks her if the books are for her "alone" or with Onmund. For all their sneakiness, they apparently never noticed Enthir has a habit of going down to the Frozen Hearth in the evenings for a drink. Elur takes the books and has a nice time (I'm not mentioning what's in those books *yet* ;) ) but lets her lover know they're gonna need to find a new spot to have sex in. Her point is punctuated when they leave the rented room for a drink and find Enthir already there, asking them if they're satisfied with their purchase.

Yeah, I gave away the whole plot just now but I want to give a solid idea of what my smut looks like. It's FAR from JUST a sex scene.

#elder scrolls #tes skyrim #tesblr #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #tes #Elur probably skips classes the next few days after this ngl #the ice-blooded dragon #elder scrolls fanfiction #TES WIP

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otherone12 · 4 months ago

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hi !!! could you write a gerard way x male reader where gerard is a vampire and the reader is vampire obsessed, begging him and asking him to feed off of the reader and he eventually gives in, and while gerard feeds mayb the reader give shim a handjob and it turns into smut where they fuck supa hard ?? mostly suggesting a blood kink fic lolol :3c

Drink Me Hot, Like A Liqueur

(this is a line from a brazilian song: "Doce Vampiro" by Rita Lee)

Vampire!Gerard Way x Male!Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Heyy!! Damn i disappeared again... sorry, guys X-X ... First of all, i want to say that i've never wrote a male reader fic (cause i'm a cis woman), so, i'm sorry if i did something wrong or weird. I tryed my best to make this good, even did a research, reading my frind's favorite fic (A "Larry Stylinson" one... yeah i like 1D too).. so, hope u like it! <3 (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

Next fic: Bullets!Ray Toro x Reader (smut)

Summary: You met Gerard in college, and from the start he caught your attention because of his dark ways. So you decided to follow him, he was exactly what you expected him to be.

- Word Count: 5.100

- Warnings: SMUT! Blood Kink, handjob

> IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF CONTENT, DON'T READ!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

- Ps: I didn't go into as much detail about SMUT physically, because I was a bit insecure about writing something too weird, but even so, I don't think it was too bad.

- Ps2: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps3: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

I wasn’t supposed to be here. But when I noticed I was following Gerard down the street, in the middle of the night, like some kind of creep.

But I couldn’t help myself. He was always so… mysterious. He avoided people like the plague, rarely spoke in class, and when he did, his voice carried a weight that didn’t match his age, always hiding in the shadows with his oversized hoodie wrapped around his too pale body, even on sunny and hot days. I dare to say mostly when the day was sunny.

And then there were the other things. The things I couldn’t ignore. He never ate during class. Not once. His participation was minimal, but when he spoke, it was like stepping into a different era.

I’ll never forget the time we discussed Victorian art, and he explained it with such confidence, such intimacy, that it felt like he’d been there, standing in the streets of 19th-century London.

Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I’d let my imagination run wild. But there was something about Gerard Way that didn’t quite fit into the world I knew. Something… unnatural.

Vampires.

The thought had been gnawing at me for weeks. Ever since I stumbled across him one night, walking alone under the moonlight, his pale face illuminated just enough to catch that eerie, otherworldly glow in his eyes. I’ve been obsessed with vampires for as long as I can remember, their myths, their stories, their allure. And Gerard gave me that same intoxicating pull, the same thrill that made my stomach twist in both fear and fascination.

Theoretically, I am supposed to know vampires aren’t real, but what if they are? What if he was one of them? I just needed to know.

That’s why I was here now, watching him like some amateur detective. For weeks, I’d been studying him, piecing together the little things: his long walks late at night, his strange habits, the way he seemed to disappear without a trace. He fascinated me in ways I couldn’t explain, and tonight, I’d finally decided to follow him.

Gerard walked with purpose, his hood pulled low, his figure blending into the shadows. The street was deserted, the only sound the occasional hum of distant traffic. My breath hitched as he turned down a dead-end alley, his steps silent on the cracked pavement.

And that’s when I saw him.

A stranger. A man I’d never seen before, lingering at the end of the alley. There was something off about him too—something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His posture was too relaxed, like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

Gerard slowed, his shoulders tensing as if he didn’t know the man either. My pulse quickened, and I leaned forward, desperate to see what would happen next, forgetting for a moment how exposed I was.

It happened so quickly that I almost missed it. One moment, they were just standing there; the next, Gerard had the stranger pressed against the wall, his hand fisted in the man’s collar. There was no struggle, no sound of protest… just the low hum of something that felt far too intimate to be violence.

I craned my neck, trying to see better, and that’s when I caught the glint of sharp teeth as Gerard’s lips parted, his head tilting slightly to the side before he sank them into the man’s neck.

My stomach flipped, my brain screaming at me to look away, but I couldn’t.

I was rooted to the spot, watching as his jaw worked against the man’s throat, his hands holding the stranger still with inhuman ease. The man’s head lolled back, his eyes fluttering shut, not in pain, but in something that looked dangerously close to pleasure.

I felt my breath hitch, the sound escaping me before I could stop it… a small, sharp gasp that echoed far too loudly in the quiet alley.

Gerard froze.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his mouth smeared with crimson. His tongue darted out, quick and sharp, to catch the blood lingering on his lips, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

- Oh,- he said, his voice soft but dripping with amusement. - I didn’t know I had an audience.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I tried to step back, to disappear into the shadows, but my feet wouldn’t move.

- You’ve been following me, haven’t you? - Gerard continued, his tone almost teasing.

- I… - My throat was dry, my words stuck somewhere between fear and something else entirely.

Gerard stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His movements were unhurried, almost predatory, as if he enjoyed the way I was frozen in place.

- Should I be flattered? - he asked, his head tilting slightly as his eyes raked over me. - Or should I be concerned?

- I- I wasn’t- I started, but the lie died on my tongue when Gerard raised an eyebrow, his lips forming a faint smirk.

- You weren’t what? - he interrupted, his voice low and smooth. - You weren’t stalking me? Watching me? Or...you weren’t enjoying it?”

He stepped closer still, his gaze flicking down to my throat. My cheeks burned. Was I enjoying it? My body betrayed me, heat pooling in places I didn’t want to think about as the image of him biting that stranger replayed in my mind.

- You’re quiet, - Gerard said, his smirk widening. - I thought I was the quiet one here…

- “I… - I managed to choke out, though I had no idea what I was about to say.

He laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

- Relax, - he said, his tone lighter now, though his gaze still held that unsettling intensity. - If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already.

I took a deep breath. The words slipped out before I could stop them. I blushed harder, regretting it instantly, but I couldn’t take it back.

- But… What if I wanted you to? - I wasn’t unsure, but my nervousness was too clear - I-i mean… you could bite me…

Gerard’s expression got more serious, as he shook his head and stepped close to me.

- No way. - he replied, his voice firm - I don’t do this…

- Why? - I asked before I could stop myself. I sound more confident then i was - You already did with that guy…

- It’s not that easy, man… - Gerard’s eyes darkened, his posture suddenly more rigid. He took a step back, studying me closely. - I don’t bite people I know.

- C’mon, Gerard I-

- Enough! - he snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the air. His eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, I could see a flash of something dangerous behind his calm facade. - I won't bite you. End of conversation. See you at college.

His words hung in the air, final, unyielding. But there was something in the way he said it, a tension in his voice that told me he wasn’t entirely unaffected by our exchange.

I stood there, frozen, watching him turn away. My heart was still racing, my mind whirling with questions, but I didn’t have the courage to say anything more. As much as I wanted him to… I could feel that invisible line between us, one I wasn’t sure I could cross.

Gerard’s footsteps faded into the night, and I was left standing there, breathless, my body still humming with the heat of the encounter.

*** Time Skip ***

Next day at the college I couldn't shake the memory of last night. How Gerard bit that guy, how he moved so smoothly, how his black hair fell on his face, the way his hazel eyes caught the moonlight… Then there was his voice… I could hear it all day.

I kept replaying the way he’d caught me watching him, that teasing smirk, the brief but overwhelming rush of heat I felt when he’d gotten too close.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I sat in the corner of the lecture hall, trying to focus on the professor’s words, but my mind kept drifting back to Gerard. I kept telling myself I should let it go, that it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone like this, but… I couldn’t help it. There was something about him that felt so… magnetic.

I caught a glimpse of him at the back of the room, as usual, sitting alone with his head down, eyes focused on whatever he was sketching in the margins of his notebook. There were always empty seats around him, like people instinctively knew to stay away. Gerard wasn’t the type to invite conversation, to make friends, and maybe that was part of why I felt drawn to him.

Maybe it was the mystery of it all.

Maybe it was the fact that he was different, detached from the world in a way that made me want to understand him, want to pull him closer.

The lecture dragged on, but my eyes kept straying toward Gerard. Eventually, I couldn’t resist anymore. My heart pounding in my chest, I stood up, grabbing my bag, and made my way to the back of the room

- hey…- I tried, but he didn’t bother to look up. - Gerard?

He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable, but I could feel his annoyance.

- So… - I started again - I was thinking about last night and-

- Don’t. - His sharp tone cut me off

- Please…. I-I still want you to… - I bit my lip, trying to not sound nervous… - I mean you could feed from me. If you want.

There. I said it. And the moment the words left my lips, my heart rate picked up again, my palms growing sweaty.

Gerard’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he sighed, shaking his head.

- No, - he said simply, his voice flat. - I told you before. I don’t do that.

- Why? - I asked before I could stop myself. My curiosity was eating at me. - I mean, you did it with that guy… What’s the difference?

Gerard leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine.

- There’s a difference, alright, - he said, his voice barely above a whisper. - It’s not something I just do with people who ask.

I could feel my pulse quicken, and the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

- But what if I wanted you to?- I asked, a part of me desperate, a part of me trembling from the intensity of this conversation.

Gerard looked at me, his gaze intense and unreadable. There was a long pause before he spoke, his tone low and cold.

- Maybe that’s the problem,- he said, his voice almost distant. - You want something you don’t understand, and I’m not someone you can just get close to, and ask something like that, understand?

I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of frustration and something else… something darker. Is that what this was? Was it all just me being obsessed with something I couldn’t have?

But then… I caught myself. I was staring at him again, lost in his eyes, noticing the subtle curve of his jaw, the sharp lines of his face, and the way his lips pressed into a thin line.

God, he was so fucking attractive.

I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been drawn to him until now, the way my body responded to his presence.

Gerard shifted in his seat, sensing the change in the air. He glanced down at his hands, avoiding eye contact for a moment before speaking again, his tone quieter this time.

I stared at him, my mouth dry, the words I wanted to say swirling in my head but never quite making it past my lips. I stood there, caught in the weight of the moment. Gerard’s gaze flicked back up to mine briefly, as if he could sense the inner conflict swirling inside me. Then, without another word, he stood up and walked past me, brushing against my arm as he went.

- See you around, - he said softly, and I could hear the finality in his voice.

I watched him go, a mix of disappointment and longing simmering inside me. What was I doing? Why was I letting this obsession take control of me? But even as I tried to make sense of it, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the pull I felt every time I was near him.

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was something deeper. Something dangerous.

*** Time Skip **

I wasn’t about to give up… the days dragged on, but I couldn’t stop trying. Every chance I got, I found myself pushing the subject with Gerard, even if I knew it would only get me a frustrated glare or an annoyed sigh. I didn’t care. I had to try.

- Gerard… - I whispered one evening after class, catching up to him in the hallway. He didn’t even glance at me, his pace quickening as he walked toward the door. I almost ran to keep up with him. - Please. Just once. You don’t even have to… just bite me. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

He didn’t stop walking, but his lip curled into a tight, unreadable line.

- Damn! I’ve already said no.

- But-

- No.

*** Time Skip ***

Again, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and how I wanted him to sink his teeth on my neck.

He froze when he saw me standing there, waiting, the same determined look in my eyes.

- Gerard, please… You know I won’t say anything. You can trust me, - I begged, my voice breaking a little, my hands shaking as I reached out to him. - I want it. I want you to feed from me. Just… just once. Let me feel what it’s like. Please.

Gerard’s face didn’t change. He just stared at me with those cold, emotionless eyes.

- I said no! I don’t bite people I know. - He sighed - Especially not you.

I flinched at his words, but I couldn’t stop myself.

- Please… - The word came out in a desperate whisper. - Please, Gerard. I need this.

He turned away without another word, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. He was fighting something, and I knew it was just as much a battle for him as it was for me.

*** Time Skip ***

It had been weeks of nothing but rejection, each plea falling on deaf ears. But today, something was different.

I saw Gerard in the hallway after class, and as usual, I tried to push it again, my voice shaky but determined.

- Gerard… please. Just once. - - You don’t have to worry about anything, I promise-

Before I could finish, he stopped walking, turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, that sent a thrill down my spine.

- You know what? Fine,- he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. - Meet me at my apartment tonight. You know where I live, right? Since you already stalked me.

I froze. My heart hammered in my chest, the rush of adrenaline nearly overwhelming. For a moment, I thought I misheard him.

- What?!

- You heard me. - Gerard’s voice was firm, but there was something softer beneath the command. It was as if he was giving in to something he didn’t want to admit to himself. - But if we’re doing this, it’s on my terms.

The words hung in the air, and my mind raced, a million questions swirling around. But I knew I didn’t need to ask. I nodded, my throat tight.

- I’ll be there.

*** Time Skip ***

Later that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation, of nerves and hunger gnawing at me. I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about, the possibility of what was going to happen, or the fact that this moment had been building for so long, and now it was finally here.

I knocked on his door just past midnight. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him to answer. When the door opened, there he stood, his usual dark, mysterious aura more intense than ever. His eyes flicked over me, and for a brief second, I saw a flash of something, something hungry in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped aside, silently motioning for me to come in.

It was just the two of us now, and everything else felt far away.

Gerard didn’t waste any time. He took a step forward, his hands gently gripping my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine. His breath was shallow, his usual calm demeanor slipping for just a moment.

- You know that there’s no turning back now, right? - He warned.

As I felt his teeth sinking on my neck, his warm breath reached my skin seconds before the sharp pain took over me. I instinctively placed my hands on his hips.

My gasp turned into a moan when I felt my blood leaving my veins. His soft lips sent shivers down my spine, that bite felt almost like a kiss, and I melted into it.

His hand on my shoulder while the other was firmly placed in my waist. The faint scent of cigarettes clinging to his hair made my head spin. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed for a moment.

He was obviously taking his time, the warmth of his body pressing into mine. His thigh brushed against me, and before I realized it, heat was pooling low in my stomach, an unmistakable ache growing between my legs.

He was too close, and didn’t take too long for me to feel his hardness pressed against my thigh.

With trembling hands, still feeling he sucking the warmth of my body, I reached the waistband of his jeans, moving my fingers to unbutton them. Soon, I touched him above his boxers, and received a groan in response, his mouth still on my neck.

I could feel my own blood dripping down my neck and reaching my shirt, leaving a stain on my shirt.

As I pulled down his boxers just enough to reach his cock, I heard a low moan escaping from his lips, it was enough for me to know that he wanted me to keep going.

I wanted to hate the situation, I wanted to not claim to give myself to him, but I couldn't. My hand took his length and he groaned softly, his lips still against my neck, his teeth stuck on my skin.

I couldn’t stop myself, I wanted to hear him make that noise again.

My grip tightened, and I began to move my hand slowly, testing his reaction. His hips shifted forward, chasing the friction, his breath hitching against my skin.

The world around me blurred, the only thing grounding me was him, his heat, his weight, the soft, desperate sounds he made as I touched him.

I felt his teeth leave my neck, but before I could fully process the loss, his tongue followed, warm and deliberate. He licked up the blood, but instead of cleaning it, he smeared it across my jawline. The wet warmth of it sent a thrill through me, and my legs almost buckled when he kissed the trail he’d made.

His hands tightened on my waist, his nails digging into my skin. His sharp fangs scratched along my jaw, deliberate and teasing, as he pressed soft kisses there.

Then he reached my ear, his breath hot and uneven as he spoke.

- You wanted this for too long, didn't you? - he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and hunger.

Heat flooded my face, shame and desire tangling in my chest. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead, I moved my hand more firmly, drawing another groan from him.

- Keep going, - he whispered, his voice a rasp against my skin. - If you stop, I’ll drink every single drop of blood off your fucking body.

I shivered at his command, my body responding before my mind could catch up. Every part of him, his voice, his touch, the way he tasted me, made it impossible to resist. And deep down, I didn’t want to.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as he leaned in to capture my lips. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted it, needed it, until he did. The metallic tang of my own blood lingered on his tongue, blending with the heat of the kiss as our mouths moved together, deliberate and unhurried, but full of something I couldn’t name

Before I could even process the moment, Gerard pushed me back onto the bed behind us, pinning me there with a firm grip on my hips. His weight pressed into me, grounding me, and I could feel the tension in his body as his mouth found mine again. There was no hesitation this time, only raw hunger, as his lips claimed mine, his fingers digging into my skin like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I couldn’t even process his words, and his hands reached to the hem of my shirt, and I adjusted my position to help him take that off. Once it was off, he stepped back to admire my body, which still had a trail of blood running to my stomach. His eyes darkened and I felt the hungry on them.

- So pretty - He muttered under his breath. sanding a shiver down my spine.

He approached me, removing his shirt too. His pale body, even if he wasn’t worked out, was driving me insane and I didn’t know I could get even harder than I already was. He was chubby but in the most sexy way possible… When he got close enough for me to reach for him, my hands moved to remove his pants, which were already unbuttoned. But then his lips shocked mine.

- Eager, aren’t you? - His voice was low, teasing, the words vibrating against my lips.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My pulse was pounding too loudly in my ears.

- Cat got your tongue? - he whispered, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to make me shiver. - You were so vocal earlier… What happened?

I swallowed hard, feeling my face flush as I tried to form words.

- I just-

He laughed softly, cutting me off as his lips brushed against the corner of my mouth.

- Relax, - he murmured, his voice smooth but commanding. - We’re just getting started.

He didn’t give me time to respond. His hands moved lower, skimming over my waist and pulling me closer until our bodies were flush. The coolness of his skin sent a shock through me, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in my body.

- You’ve been begging for this,- he murmured against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. - Let me hear it.

I swallowed, my voice coming out hoarse.

- I want you. Please.

That was all it took. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, and I felt his hand move down my chest, tracing the trail of blood that still lingered there. His touch was both gentle and possessive, like he was savoring every inch of me.

His body pressed me further into the mattress, and I let out a soft gasp when his thigh slid between mine, applying just enough pressure to make me arch into him. He smirked against my lips, clearly reveling in my reaction.

- You’re mine tonight,- he growled, his voice low and full of promise. - But you’ll have to keep up.

Without warning, his hands hooked under my thighs, pulling me further up the bed. His strength caught me off guard, and I could feel the primal hunger in the way he touched me… like he was holding himself back, barely.

Then, faster than I realized, his hands traced a line to the waistband of my pants and boxers, removing them at the same time, revealing my hardness.

A malicious smirk appeared on his face, and he leaned over me again, kissing my neck and taking a loud moan from my lips.

Gerard backed off a bit, enough for removing his own clothes, since i was laid on the bed, too dazed to make any move, i just could watch and admire his pretty body. Damn he was bigger than I was expecting.

- Are you sure you can handle it? - A mischievous grin formed in his lips and his voice was teasing.

Honestly? I wasn’t sure, but, fuck, how i wanted. I nodded desperately.

- Y-yeah… - I manage to say - I can.

- Let's test the theory…

With an abrupt move he turned me around, he was so strong. He pressed me against the mattress and the pain on my erection was so pleasant… I whimper, feeling his body leaning on mine. His hand in my back, pressing me even further.

- Are you gonna be a good boy and be all fours for me? - I heard the smile on his face, his voice low, and I shivered under his touch.

My body trembled under his touch, my heart racing. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, but I needed him to keep going.

I hesitated for a moment, but the weight of Gerard pressing down on me left me no room to think. My body was already responding to him, aching for more.

- Come on, be a good boy… - Gerard’s voice was an almost seductive whisper, sending a shiver through me. The tone, though commanding, was laced with that playful tease that made everything he said feel like a challenge.

I barely had a second to process what was happening before I found myself on my hands and knees, Gerard’s hands guiding me into position. His breath was hot against the back of my neck, his fangs screeching my skin, and the way he loomed over me made my entire body pulse with want. He wasn’t gentle, his touch was insistent, like he was claiming every inch of me.

- That’s it, just like that… - His words were barely a rasp, but they dripped with anticipation. I could feel the heat radiating off of him as he settled behind me, the sound of his breathing just as ragged as mine.

I was still trying to gather my bearings when I felt the press of his cock against me, hot and heavy. It was almost too much, the way my body instinctively arched back toward him, desperate for more. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and I couldn’t think straight anymore.

- You’re so fucking ready for this, aren’t you? - Gerard’s voice came low and dark, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he positioned himself. - I knew you wanted this.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, but the way my body reacted was all the answer he needed. I nodded, desperate for him to take me, to claim me completely. I could feel my pulse quicken as I felt the head of his cock push against me, and the sensation was so fucking overwhelming I thought I might lose my mind.

Gerard’s grip tightened, and with a forceful thrust, he entered me, the stretch and burn overwhelming but welcome. I gasped, my body instantly reacting, tightening around him as he filled me. It was rough, fast, and completely consuming, just as I had imagined it would be.

His voice, strained and full of hunger, reached my ears again.

- You feel so good… so fucking tight around me - He punctuated his words with another harsh thrust, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.

He moved himself and I couldn't hold back the noisings coming out of my mouth, he wasn’t too silent too, he groaned with every thrust. I felt my body tensing, my pulse pounding, and it was almost as if the blood inside me was thumping in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. His words, his hands on my body, his grip tightening… everything about him was claiming me, making me feel like I was his. And with one final, deep thrust, I felt like I was about to explode.

The world shifted as he came inside me. Fuck, I was his.

The force of it sent a shockwave through my body. My own release followed almost instantly, the sensation blurring the line between pleasure and something darker. I couldn't think straight, couldn’t remember what was mine and what was his anymore.

When it was over, I felt like I had been shattered into a thousand pieces, but still, there was this lingering ache, an ache that wasn’t just from the intensity of what just happened but something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Gerard pulled out slowly, his breath heavy, his body still vibrating from the pleasure. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned down to kiss me gently, his lips soft against my blood-slick skin.

- Gerard… - I said, breathless

- yeah? - He looked exhausted, but he raised his eyebrow with his teasing smile.

- Feel free to feed from me whenever you want. - I wasn’t joking… but I couldn't say how serious I was.

I rested my head on his shoulder.

- Bet on it.

___________________________________________

~ So... That's it! hope u like it! <3

- Tag List: @bossiestbitch @mimilovesnumetal

Comment to joint the taglist (:

#gerard way #my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way x reader #gerard way smut

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heli-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Seven summers, part 6.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Disclaimers: Make-out session, allusion to sex, no full-on smut (they're still minors, y'all!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sixth summer, July.

The weather in England has been cold and rainy lately. It doesn't seem to be July at all. Y/n longs for those warm, long summer nights outside in her parents' garden, playing cards and drinking bubbly lemonade. Instead, she's clinging to her umbrella and making herself as small as possible so that she doesn't give the wind too much space to attack her with its whipping water. She's waiting for Draco near the entrance of Diagon Alley. She watched several wizards enter and leave the place, but no Draco so far. Y/n wonders if he will actually show up. They've been exchanging letters via owl, as usual. At the beginning of the school year, Draco's letters have been arriving quite frequently but there were less and less letters the last few months. Y/n knows there's been some arguments with his rival Harry and a new teacher. Draco was appointed a certain position in a Club or something. He didn't really tell her what's it about but ever since he's been more reserved than before.

Y/n waits for almost an hour before she gives up. She walks through the pouring rain back to the bus stop. She stops by a Costa and treats herself to a hot cup of tea on the go in an attempt to warm herself up. On the bus, she plugs in her headphones and stares out of the window. She tries really hard not to cry and hopes that none of the other passengers notice th water dwelling in her eyes. When she gets off the bus, her head's pounding from the oppressing of tears. Y/n walks straight home and up to her room, without taking off her jacket and boots. She can hear her mother complaining about the water on the floor, but she doesn't care. She's just dropped onto her bed when she hears the soft clank of Draco's owl on her window. Y/n gets up and sniffs. This guy has some nerve, she tells herself as she walks up to the window. She takes the letter from the owl and throws some dried meat in its direction, a habit she picked up a while ago. She leans back on a chair and reads.

Dear y/n,

I won't be able to make it today. I'm really sorry but there have been some issues in my family recently and my mother needs my support. I hope the whole situation dissolves itself soon.

I'll send you a letter when it's possible to meet again. I hope you can understand.

Draco.

Y/n folds up the letter and puts it in a box beneath her bed where she keeps all of Draco's letters. She writes a quick response and hands it to the owl who is patiently waiting outside. She watches the owl fly away. I must've just missed his message, y/n thinks. Yet still she can't shake the feeling that something is off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco lets y/n wait for two weeks. Y/n got antsy with every passing day without hearing from him. Eventually, he sends her a letter and proposes a meeting in Windsor Great Park for a stroll and coffee. Y/n is nervous all morning and has to redo her makeup twice after ruining her eyeliner. Again, y/n is the first to arrive. She walks up and down the entrance of the Savill Garden.

"Hey", she suddenly hears behind her. Draco is standing right next to her with a loopy grin on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes, y/n thinks. She smiles at him nonetheless and opens her arms to hug him. Almost hesitantly, Draco hugs her back. It's a bit awkward. "Do you want to go inside?", y/n says and points to the garden. Draco nods. They take the tourist route but there aren't many other people around. It's probably because of the grey clouds that hang low above their heads. They walk along the path between rows of bushes and other plants.

Draco doesn't make an attempt to start a conversation, so y/n does. "So, how's your family? Everything alright? Your letter sounded quite serious.", y/n asks him. Draco shrugs and doesn't answer immediately. "I guess, we're alright. Things haven't been resolved but it will be ok.", he tells her. Y/n nods reassuringly but she feels that Draco does not really believe that last part. "If you don't mind me asking... what happened?", she asks carefully. Draco kicks a stone out of his way. "My dad has been involved in some stuff. He's temporarily contained.", he tells her. Y/n stares at him with big eyes. "Like jail?", she blurts. Draco gives her an angry look. "Yes. My mother did not take it too well.", he replies. "Oh.", is all that y/n manages to say. They walk in silence for a moment. "What about you? How do you take it?", she asks him. Draco shrugs again and does his best to look somewhere far ahead. "Draco...", y/n mumbles and touches his arm. "I'm fine.", he says harshly, "My mother needs all the support she can get. I can't be weak in a situation like this". Y/n steps a bit closer to him and rests her cheek on his arm while taking his hand. "It's not a weakness to feel bad about a situation like that. It only shows how much you care about your parents.", she tells him. Almost instantly, she can feel Draco's shoulders slump down. He turns to her and finally pulls her close. He hides his face in her hair. "I must do everything I can to clear my family's name. One way or another.", he points out. Y/n thinks about this for a moment. "It's not your responsibility. Support your family as much as you can, but don't let the weight of it pull you down.", she replies. Draco shakes his head. "You don't understand... my mother...", he starts. "...is an adult. We're only sixteen, Draco. There's only so much we can do. Somethings we must let the adults handle.", she points out. Draco shakes his head again. "No, my mother can't handle this. I'm the one who has to fix things. I've been chosen.", he tells her. Y/n frowns. "Chosen? By whom? For what?", she asks him. Draco lets go of her. "It doesn't matter. The point is I'm going to handle this. Don't worry.", he says coldly. Draco walks a bit ahead and y/n stares after him. She's got a really bad feeling about this but it's clear that Draco isn't ready to talk about this.

She jogs after him. "Alright, let's not talk about this anymore. We haven't seen each other since Christmas and I really am happy we're spending time together today.", she announces and gives him a bright smile. She holds out her hand to Draco and looks at him expectantly. Draco sighs and then takes her hand. They continue their stroll and y/n tries to distract Draco with silly stories about school and her friends. She updates him on Olivia's situationship and manages to pry some stories about Blaze and quidditch out of Draco. The atmosphere loosens up a bit and soon she finds Draco genuinely smiling again. They wander deeper into the garden and don't notice how the clouds above them get darker and darker. They're laughing about one of y/n's stories when the first drop landed on y/n's cheek. Draco wipes it away carefully. They look up and notice how armageddon is right above them. Within seconds, it's pouring. Draco pulls her close and uses his wand as an umbrella. However, the wind whips raindrops onto their sides. They rush along the path, deeper into the rows of trees ahead of them. They're almost soaked when they finally find shelter in a stone pavilion.

Y/n is shivering but glad there are still some parts of her that are dry. Draco sits down next to her and puts an arm around her. Y/n nuzzles closer into his side. Draco leans his head against hers. They don't speak and when y/n finally looks up, she immediately meets Draco's gaze. He must've been staring at her for a while now. Immediately, he leans close and they meet in a kiss. For a moment, everything outside the pavilion seems to stop existing. Y/n kisses him back feverishly and grabs his collar. Draco's hand is tangled in her hair and his other hand wanders down her side. Y/n presses her upper body closer to his and Draco pulls her onto his lap. They kiss until they can't breathe anymore. Y/n leans her forehead against his as both of them catch their breath. There are no sounds besides the pouring rain outside.

"Draco?", y/n breathes. "Hm?", he mumbles in response. Y/n's heart leaps in her chest. It takes all her courage to say: "I think I love you". Draco leans back and looks at her with surprise in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't expect a confession of love. Immediately, y/n feels embarrassed. She wishes she could take the words back. "Y-you don't have to say it back. I just thought...", she rumbles but doesn't get to finish her sentence. Draco puts his hand onto the back of her head and pulls her lips against his again. He gives her a deep, longing kiss which leaves y/n breathless once again. When he lets go of her, he looks at her longingly and strokes over her cheek. Then he presses a kiss on top of her head and pulls her into a hug. Y/n feels warm and fuzzy inside and she almost forgets that Draco did not return the confession.

They stay in the pavilion until the heavy rain fades into a soft summer drizzle. Only then, they start wandering back to the entrance of the garden. They part ways rather quickly since the rain started again after some point. However, y/n proposes that he should come visit her soon. Her parents will be visiting her grandparents all the way up in Keswick and will be gone for a couple of days. They put y/n under house arrest for the time being (considering what happened last year), but allowed to have a friend over. They probably thought about Olivia but when y/n asked her, Olivia immediately declined saying that y/n simply must invite Draco. Draco is a bit hesitant to accept the invitation and says that he will have to see how things at home. They both decide to write soon.

On her way back to the train station, y/n has mixed feelings. On one hand she's over the moon about meeting Draco finally again, on the other hand, she's also worried about him. Having a father in jail is already troubling but it sounded as if Draco was ready to do anything to fix that. She wonders if that included more than giving a testimony in front of a court. One way or another, he said. She hopes Draco is smart enough to not do anything stupid, or illegal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sixth summer, a few weeks later.

Anxious. That's how y/n feels as she waits for Draco at King's Cross. Y/n and Draco have been writing back and forth for the last couple of weeks. Draco's been really quiet about his father's situation and y/n didn't push too much. However, whenever y/n brought up Draco coming over, he kept saying it probably wouldn't be possible and that too many things were going on. Which clearly indicates that things haven't been resolved. Surprisingly, Draco sent her a letter a few days ago saying that meeting her would be possible after all. Apparently, his mother and his aunt visit a family friend, giving him a chance to slip away. When y/n got Draco's letter saying that he would be visiting after all, she immediately called Olivia who immediately rushed over. Giggling, they wrote lists and prepared the house for what y/n's parents assumed was a sleepover. It also leads to her parents being quite relaxed about leaving y/n alone for a few days.

Right now, y/n is waiting for Draco to arrive at King's Cross. Obviously, Draco does not take a muggle train. He arrives via floo powder somewhere close but they agreed to meet at the station from where y/n would take him home. Y/n nervously scans the crowd in front of her. Suddenly, she feels a tap on her shoulder. "Hey, there pretty girl.", she hears Draco say behind her. When she twirls around, he is mere inches from her face. "Draco!", she laughs and throws her arms around him. Draco almost drops his bag while trying to keep his balance. Y/n quickly retreats. "Sorry!", she says. Draco puts down his bag. "That's alright.", he tells her and pulls her close by her arms. He hugs her close and hides his face in her hair. Y/n's heart skips a beat. When he lets go of her, he looks over his shoulder nervously. Distractedly, he says: "So, uh... is your house close by?". Y/n tries to see what's behind him or what he's looking for but when he turns back to her, she gives him a bright smile. "We'll have to take the bus.", she tells him and takes his hand. Draco sighs behind her. "You don't happen to have a fireplace, do you?", he mumbles. Y/n laughs. "No, sorry! We have central heating.", she says as she pulls him along with him.

While Draco feels visibly nervous in the station, he relaxes once y/n and him have entered the bus. When y/n asks him why, he tells her that there are probably no wizards here who could see them. Y/n nods understandingly. It's a short walk from the bus station to y/n's house. Her house is one of these terraced houses with white, wooden windows and a small front garden. It's nothing special really but her parents had to save up for it for quite some time and they're really proud to call themselves 'homeowners'. Y/n thinks it's a bit ridiculous but then again she's never bought a house and doesn't even know how much it would cost. Y/n pulls out her keys and opens the door.

She holds the door for Draco. "Ladies first. You can put your shoes over there.", she tells him as she quickly pushes him inside. Ever since they made a turn into y/n's street, she's been the one looking over her shoulder. Can't have the neighbours see her sneaking a boy in. She's pretty sure that the nosy old lady from across the street would just love to tell her parents all about that. Y/n quickly closes the door behind her and pulls off her jacket. Draco is standing in the hallway looking around and feeling a bit out of place. Y/n points past him. "Go on, straight through that door. There's the kitchen", she tells him. They enter the kitchen together and y/n quickly puts the kettle on. "C'mon.", she tells him and leads him to the room to the right. It's the living room which has a small conservatory attached to it. It's her mother's favorite room since it's always bright and open. In the middle, there's a large couch with pillows and blankets. On the left is the telly and a coffee table. "It's cozy", Draco notes as y/n leads him to the coach. "Sit down. I'll make the tea.", she tells him as she rushes off back to the kitchen.

She prepares a tray with tea, mugs and some biscuits. When she enters the living room again, Draco still sits in the same position as she left him. I guess he feels a bit awkward, she concludes. After she pours him a cup of tea, she asks him: "So, what do you think? Is this how you imagined muggles to live like?". Draco laughs and rubs his head in embarrassment. "Actually, I'm not sure what I expected. But it's really nice. I like this room.", he says and points to the conservatory. Y/n pulls one of her legs under the other and takes her tea cup. "Hm, you really had no image in your head how I live like?", she asks. Draco shakes his head. "How do you imagine I live like then?", he replies. Y/n thinks about that for a moment. "I guess I imagine a big house, maybe a villa. An old one, maybe Victorian? I imagine a big staircase right when you enter. Old, but classic and high-quality furniture.", she explains. Draco looks at her surprised. "That's actually not that far off.", he tells her. "I can't imagine your room though. I feel like I can imagine your dorm room better than your room at home.", she says. Draco takes a sip from his tea. "Do you want me to describe it?", he asks her. Y/n nods excitedly. He crooks his head. "Let's see. My room is upstairs, in the East Wing. It has a window facing the East as well so that I can see the sunrise every morning. My walls are painted in a greyish-blue. My furniture is black. When you enter the room, you're standing in front of my bed. Opposite the bed is the window and in front of it is my desk. To the left of the desk, is my wardrobe which is always messy and to the right are some shelves with books.", he describes. Y/n tries to imagine the room. In her head, the room is kind of empty besides the furniture Draco described. "Is there anything else in the room?", she asks. Draco names some quidditch equipment and some other tokens that y/n has trouble imagining. Draco tried to explain quidditch to her one time but y/n fails to truly understand the game. Probably, because she's never seen a person riding a broom.

"Would you like to see my room?", y/n proposes and Draco nods. They walk back to the hallway and up the stairs that are on the left. "My room is all the way up, beneath the roof.", she tells him as they climb up the stairs. Y/n's room is the only room on the last floor. When she opens the room, there's her bed to the left and behind the door is her closet. Right in front of the door are three windows. In front of the middle one, is her desk. On the left is a little reading niche and on the right is a dressing table and a cupboard. A chain of lights is strung from one side of the room towards another. Y/n makes some space for Draco to enter. He looks around the room in silence. "So, what do you think?", she asks. "It suits you. I don't know how I'd imagine your room but this fits you perfectly.", he tells her. Y/n giggles and drops onto her bed. "You think so?", she says. Draco nods and turns around in her room before joining her on the bed. Y/n thinks the sight of him in her room is a bit strange. Like he doesn't quite fit into it. He's dressed in black (like always) and her room is dominated by beige and pastel tones. "Yeah, it's bright and warm. And girly. And cozy.", he replies. Y/n snuggles up to him. "You like it?", she asks him. Draco pulls her closer to him. "Yes. Actually, I like your whole house. Everything is very home-ly.", he murmurs and kisses the top of her head. He pulls her back and they fall on top of the comforter of y/n's bed. Draco turns to his side, pulling her closer to him. Y/n takes in his scent and puts her head on his chest, just beneath his head. Draco's hand finds its way into y/n's hair and he scratches the skin of her skull a bit. Y/n feels how the three magical words lay heavy on her tongue again, begging her to speak them out loud once more. She swallows them down quickly, however. She doesn't want to make a fool out of herself once again.

They lay there for a while and y/n is not sure whether or not she may have dozed off a bit. The room's colour faded to grey indicating that the sun was about to go down. Draco stretches next to her and sits up. "Are you hungry?", y/n asks him. Draco shrugs but y/n knows him well enough that that means yes. They end up ordering pizza and watching y/n's favourite movie. Setting up the telly, Draco is fascinated by the technology and asks a bunch of questions about how it works without magic which y/n definitely can't answer. She lets Draco choose a movie afterwards and they spend the evening rotting on the couch. Eventually, the titles roll and y/n sits up stretching. She peeks over to Draco whose eyes are closed. Did he really fall asleep?, she thinks and pokes his cheek. He wrinkles his nose and opens an eye. "Sleepy? Wanna settle for the night?", y/n asks and Draco yawns and nods. They get up and climb up the stairs to y/n's room. After brushing their teeth, they climb into y/n's bed and Draco pulls her close. Y/n leans her head against his and lets her hand rest on his chest. Draco gently strokes over her back and places soft kisses on her forehead, her cheeks and her nose. Y/n crooks her head and meets him in a soft kiss. It's slow and sweet. Draco puts his hand into her hair and pulls her face closer to him, deepening the kiss. Y/n's heart starts beating faster. They kiss like this for a bit until Draco rolls her over so that y/n lays flat on her back. Draco hovers over her while continuing to kiss her. Y/n puts her hands behind his neck and one of Draco's hands runs up and down her sides. Y/n feels goosebumps forming all over her body. Draco's hand finds the hem of her shirt. His fingers dip under it, softly circling the skin of her hip. He leans his head back for a moment. "Is this okay with you?", he asks. Y/n nods breathlessly, not trusting her voice to say yes. She's expected it to happen tonight. Hell, she kinda hoped it would. Draco pushes his hand under her shirt exploring the warm, naked skin underneath it. Y/n lets her hands run down his back and pulls his shirt up a bit. Draco sits up for a moment and pulls it over his head. Y/n stares up at him in awe. He looks even more pale than usual with the moonlight hitting his skin the way it does at this moment. She sits up a bit and runs her hand down his chest. Draco gently pulls on the neckline of her shirt, silently asking for permission to take it off as well. Y/n swallows. She's nervous. "We don't-", Draco starts but y/n cuts him off by pulling her shirt off as well. Draco doesn't say or do anything for a few seconds. Then he slowly traces a line from her shoulder over her collarbone down to her chest. He leans forward again, kissing her deeply while finally cupping her chest with his hand. Y/n lets herself fall back on the pillow.

She won't worry about anything tonight. Not about her parents or Draco's parents. About whether or not a wizard and a muggle can be together. By the time Draco's hands wander down to her pants, she has forgotten about most of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#harry potter #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #wizarding world #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n

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devilat-thedoor · 2 years ago

Text

Best Bad Habit

🤍Hey Babes🤍

Took a small break from HTY today… So this is just a little something that I wrote up in like an hour after listening to this song and thinking about Sammy baby🫠 Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it💖

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: Smut(18+ Minors DNI), Oral (f receiving), Mutual Masturbation, Unprotected Sex. i think that’s all!

Craving your touch, yeah I need a fix // Of all of the things that are bad for me, you’re the one that I don’t wanna kick.

“Oh eat shit, Sam!” You stood in the middle of the full parking lot, screaming at him. “Yanno, you can be a real asshole sometimes!”

He countered your claim, “I can be an asshole?” He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re acting insane, Y/N!”

“How am I acting insane? Hmm?” You stepped closer to him, pointing past him towards the neon illuminated bar, “Because I’m upset that you’re eye fucking and flirting with every woman in the bar?” You turned to walk away, not interested in his response.

Sam was hot on your heels, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to face him, “I don’t know what you want from me!” He was shouting now, frustrated at your attitude, “You made it clear that there’s no label on this, Y/N! You wanted to keep your options open, so fucking excuse me for doing the same!” He dragged his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated.

Your spat was garnering the attention of arriving patrons, making their way into the barroom. “Fuck you, Sam… You want options?” Your voice was barely a whisper now as you drug your keys from your bag and gestured between the two of you, “Have them all. This is done.”

“Yeah okay…” Sam stayed planted in place, watching you walk to your car. “Don’t come knocking on my door with that innocent smile the next time you miss me and you’re looking for a quick fix!”

You got into the car, slamming the door shut. God he fucking sucks. You didn’t need him, there were plenty of guys out there. Sure, Sam was a good fuck… Maybe the best you’ve had, but everything was replaceable. Wasn’t it?

You made it through your front door, tossing your keys into your purse and dropping it on the floor. It was only 9pm. You didn’t plan on being home until at least midnight. Sam ruined everything. Deep down, you knew the blame wasn’t all on him, but in your stubborn state of mind, you couldn’t be bothered to accept responsibility. You could always just go back out, hit a different bar, find a different man… But you chose to stay in. You poured yourself a large glass of wine and loaded a vinyl into the turntable, letting the smooth music carry your frustration away.

After a third glass, your body was feeling warm, but something was still missing. You knew what it was, but you didn’t dare admit it to yourself. You craved his touch. The electric feeling his fingers left on your skin wherever they roamed. The way he knew just where to kiss you to make you melt in his hands. The ends of his hair, brushing over your face, tickling you, when he was atop of you. You grazed your fingers over your bare skin above the tank top you were wearing, imagining that it was him. Setting the wine glass on the table, you stood from the couch and stalked into your bedroom, straight to your nightstand. You opened it up, digging through it for a moment to find your vibrator wand. It was tucked in the bottom, buried away from not being used for so long. Returning to the living room, you slid your shorts off and settled back into the couch. You kicked your feet up on the coffee table, letting your legs fall apart slightly. You flipped the switch on the toy, unsure if the battery had any life left in it, but smiled to yourself when the rapid buzzing sound filled the air. Leaning back, you let your body rest against the back cushions as you brought the vibrations to your covered clit. The first touch made you jolt, sending a shockwave to your belly. “Shit.” Adding a little more pressure, your head tumbled back as your breathing picked up. Your free hand traveled across your stomach and up to your breast, squeezing it through your shirt. You were almost there, just a little more… Before your orgasm had a chance to bloom, there was a knock at your front door. You shot up straight, fumbling to click the toy off. You thought you may have imagined it, but then the gentle knocks came again. Taking a second to regain some shred of composure, you tossed the vibrator behind one of the pillows to hide it and stood up. It was well after 11pm now, who was at your door? You shuffled over, cracking the door open a bit to get a glimpse.

“Baby, let me in…” Sam peered at you through the small opening, a pleading look in his eyes.

You let out a heavy sigh and pulled the door open, “What do you want, Sam?” Your tone was harsh. Mostly because you were still pissed at him from the argument, but also because he just interrupted your impending orgasm.

He didn’t make a move to come in yet, “I’m sorry…” His eyes flicked down to your bare legs and slowly raked back up to meet your stare. “I was being an ass… But I can’t stay away from you, baby. You know that.” He took one step over the threshold. “I know you don’t want me the same way and I know I’m gonna get hurt…”

“Sammy…” You wanted to tell him that you did want him the same way. Nobody else compared to him. He was the first thought in your brain when you woke up and last before you fell asleep. Everything about him was intoxicating. Like the finest wine on the planet. But you were afraid of being hurt too.

He shook his head, stopping your mouth from moving, “You’re like a drug that I just can’t get enough of.” His hand reached out, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I’m at your mercy, Y/N.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You caved, grasping his shirt and pulling him into a kiss so heated that you thought you might combust. He rushed you backwards, giving him space to kick the door shut and lifted you, bringing your legs around his waist. Your fingers weaved through his hair, holding his lips to yours as your tongue dove into his mouth. He had one arm wrapped behind your back while the other held your ass. You moaned into the kiss, grinding your hips against him in search of friction. “I want you, Sammy. Only you.” He looked at you, brows drawn together in question, silently asking if you were saying what he thought you were. You gave a quick nod, brushing your nose with his. “You and me.”

“Fuck, baby…” He came to the couch, sitting the two of you down. Grazing his fingers over your cheek, he pulled you back in for another kiss, slotting between your legs and pushing you to lay down. He grabbed the pillow behind you to make room for you, but his eyes caught something, causing him to pull away from you. Before you could protest, he reached over you and picked up the vibrator, holding it in front of your face. “Is this what you were doing when I knocked?” The smirk on his face was devious, “Is that why your cheeks were flushed when you opened the door, sweetheart?”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the toy in his hand. “I needed you. Craved your touch… But you told me not to come back…” You chewed on your lip, watching his eyes darken.

He flipped the switch, the buzzing filling the air once again. “Show me how bad you needed me.” He placed it in your hand and scooted back, sitting at the opposite end of the couch. “Go on. I wanna see how you take care of yourself when I’m not around to satisfy her.” He nodded to your core. You were already a soaked mess, but the way he was gazing at you turned you to a puddle. You slowly brought the toy back to the front of your panties, but before you could make contact, Sam stopped you. “Take them off. I wanna see how wet she is.” His eye never left yours as you shifted, sliding the cherry red thong down your legs and dropping it on the floor. You sat back against the arm on your end of the sofa, letting your legs fall apart to give him a full view. His gaze dropped, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “So fucking beautiful.”

You finally guided the wand to your clit, already so sensitive. “Mmm. Sammy…” Your eyes fluttered as your hips worked to grind against the vibrations. The whimpers that flowed from your mouth mixed with the music playing quietly in the background and Sam would swear it was the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” Sam’s voice was raspy, dripping with lust. You bit down on your lip, giving him a nod in response. “Use your fingers, Y/N.”

You obeyed, flipping the switch and discarding the toy. You pulled your middle and ring finger into your mouth, sucking on them until they were coated in your spit. Your eyes stayed locked with his as you withdrew the digits and trailed them from your neck, down your torso and over your clit, a shiver ghosting through you. You allowed them to travel lower, gathering up your arousal and pushed them inside of yourself. “Fuck.” Your brows pulled together as you curled your fingers, moving them in and out at an achingly slow pace. Your head rolled back, soft moans pouring from your throat as your eyes fell shut.

“Such a pretty girl, fucking yourself. Putting on a show for me.” Sam let out a groan, prompting you to look up. Your eyes immediately landed on his hand, wrapped around his cock and stroking it lazily. “Can you get yourself off, baby? Hmm? Make yourself cum like a good girl and I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

You couldn’t stop watching his hand, twisting and winding over his hardened length. All you could offer was a hum as you worked your fingers deeper into your cunt, using your free hand to rub circles on your clit. You picked up your speed, wanting to finish as fast as possible so Sam would just touch you. Finding the perfect spot inside of yourself, you brushed over it repeatedly. Your body was writhing, “S- So close, Sammy.” You were about to topple over the edge as you squeezed your eyes shut. But right before your orgasm could hit, Sam yanked your hands away. As you were about to scold him, he dropped down, attaching his mouth to you. “Oh, god… oh fucking christ.” Your mouth hung open as your fingers tangled in his hair. He smirked against you, flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit, and pushed his long middle finger into you. With a single curl of his digit, you were done. Your legs snapped shut around his head as your body shook. He lapped at you, carrying you through the climax with ease.

Once the tension dissipated and your body relaxed into the cushions, Sammy sat up and pulled your legs so that you were laying flat across the couch. “I’m gonna make sure you see stars.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he flipped you over in a swift movement, now flat on your tummy. He gripped your hips, lifting them slightly and drove into your dripping core. “She’s so wet for me, baby.” His hand cracked across your ass cheek, leaving a sting. “This pussy loves me. Loves the way my cock fills her up, doesn’t she?” He was moving at a relentless pace, his skin slapping yours as he panted. When you didn’t respond, he grabbed a handful of your hair, turning your head to face him. “Doesn’t she, Y/N?

“Fuck.” You could already feel another orgasm building, “Yes, Sammy. She loves it… Feels so fucking good, baby.” You knew the confession satisfied him by the way he groaned out loud.

He pushed your leg to bed at the knee, giving him access to go deeper. “Yeah, I know she does. I can feel you getting closer…” The hand that held your hair loosened enough for him to put his palm flat to your head, pushing it into the cushions. He held your head in place and pulled your hips up higher, fucking into you at a new angle. “Nobody will ever know this pussy like me. No one could ever fuck her like me. She’s mine.” His cock brushed over your g spot, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “Tell me, baby.” Sam’s thrusts were becoming erratic, “Tell me she’s mine.” He almost sounded desperate.

You mumbled through strangled whines and moans, “She is, Sammy. All yours. I promise, it’s only you. Shiiiit.” He hit you with a particularly pointed stroke and your eyes rolled back. Everything went black as your mouth fell open, nothing but panting breaths escaping. Your orgasm exploded into a sea of colors behind your eyelids as they squeezed shut. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d make you see stars.

Sam was right there with you, hips staggering as he collapsed onto your back, filling you with his release. “Oh fuck, baby.” His warm breath blanketed your skin as you both allowed yourselves to come down.

He stayed nestled inside of you, his body weight draped over your back. When you felt his lips press into your shoulder blade, you picked you head up to peek at him, “I meant it, yanno…” Your voice was a mere whisper.

“Meant what?” Sam pulled out of you then and flipped you onto your back before laying atop your body again.

You pushed the sweat soaked hair from his forehead, a smile curling your lip. “It’s only you. I don’t want anybody else.” Your fingers danced over his cheek with a featherlight touch, “It was never about having options, Sammy. I was afraid of getting hurt… Afraid you’d find someone better.”

He caught your hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a kiss on your knuckles, “I’ve only wanted you, nobody else…I’ve been hooked on you since the first taste, Y/N.” He allowed you to pull him into a soft kiss before laying his head on your chest. “I couldn’t quit you if I tried.” You rubbed your hand down his back, letting his words sink in. “You’re my best bad habit, baby.”

#sam kiskza #sammy baby #greta van fleet #gvf #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic #sam gvf #gvf fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fic

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spookykoolkat · 2 years ago

Text

the red j.m. | chapter four

CHAPTER FOUR: NO GOOD

series masterlist | main masterlist |

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings: older!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader

chapter summary: you've been in jackson for a month now and things are still a little rough. you haven't found the right crowd to fit into yet, and thought maybe you might have to settle for the family of four you already know, until you meet your patrol partner, tyler. unfortunately, joel doesn't seem to like the idea of you with any other man but him.

warnings: 18+ age gap (joel is 57, reader is turning 26), inappropriate thoughts, sexual language, teasing, touching, slight jealous!joel, x-rated descriptions, crude language, perv!joel, creepy!joel, mean joel not too mean tho, MDNI!!!

wc: 6.2k

na: HI! thank you for alllll of the love oh my god my little gothic heart is so full i love you guys!!! i hope this series is everything and more to you guys bc i love this so much! hopefully as chapters go by, i get better in my writing and hope everyone enjoys it! i appreciate all of your kind words and interactions with me and making me feel welcome since i am new to writing on tumblr and kind of took a six year break from writing oneshots/fanfictions LOL. anyways please enjoy this chapter things are g3tting a little hot and heavy :P I CANT WAITT i hope that my writing is cathartic for my big girls we do not get enough representation for us in stories and writings!please enjoy! smut coming soon fr fr LMFAOO

i appreciate all reblogs, likes and comments feel free to do any one of those things or ALL! if u think its deserved :P

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DECEMBER 21ST, 2024

YOU

you’ve been in jackson for a month now. you couldn’t believe it, you truly had every doubt about staying even a week. but, it’s probably the calmest life you’ve lived in a very long time. you enjoyed it and you truly felt you’d made the right decision, it didn’t take much convincing either. but, you still haven’t unpacked the items maria gave you and continues to give you. just in case.

the neighbors are learning your name, as you are with them, and they actually care. as much as you let them. you felt quite bad because you found yourself still not clicking with anyone around you. and you’ve tried. the people your age find you boring, almost a dark cloud over them, bursting their bubbles. younger kids only approach you because of ellie, asking for advice on stance and grip. the older group, around tommy and joel’s age, finds you a bit much.

your language, your lack of social awareness–sometimes it gets embarrassing. saying something old heads wouldn’t necessarily like, being too blunt and a little explicit. joel figured you should hang around your age group, yet you didn’t really click in with the rest. he was far from embarrassed being around you, you just said the things he was thinking out loud.

you only found yourself clicking with joel. in many ways, as much as he let you. he was standoffish most of the time, barely cracking a smile at your weird habits and the noises you make when you’re passed out on the couch. he refused to let you break him, this wall that he had up to survive. do not get attached. he thought, maybe the less he knew you the less it’d hurt to have anything happen to you. but it seems even as little as he does know you, he’s still feeling that tug at his heart laying his eyes on you.

it was too late. whoops.

joel doesn’t want to address that feeling, and he doesn’t want to call it as it is. he actually cares about you. he had no choice but to call it that, because why else would he lie to you about finding cassettes in the house?— so that you didn’t know what he really did to get you whatever he could get his hands on.

he didn’t want you to know that he actually smuggled in goods that he and his family needed, and while bribing, stealing, trading and selling for necessities, he made it a mission to find at least one cassette tape for you. he didn’t know you actually saw him red handed, and you still didn’t know where those boxes were coming from. he figured if you knew, you’d bring it up.

he made it his mission for two whole weeks, after your first week of staying with him, and finally got his hands on some actual music for you. joel hadn’t made efforts like this in a long time, and he knew that denying the fact that he at least cared for you would mean he was being delusional.

but he was always worried about you. you were his object of affection and he craved to find a way to get you out of his mind. he actually felt guilty for thinking about you in ways you’ve probably never been before, he felt guilty for wanting nothing but to make you feel good—however that was.

you doubted it strongly of course, shaking the feeling off as your own delusion and insanity, but you always hoped. hoped that maybe his generosity and southern hospitality was actually him caring about you in a different way, but he was a grown man. you tried to off yourself in front of him–you were insane to think he’d even look at you as anything but a liability, he hardly looked your way as it was.

at least you thought so.

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joel paid attention to every single thing he sees and hears. he doesn’t show it, he doesn’t acknowledge it—all he does is observe. some more than others.

you didn’t talk to him unless he talked to you, you kept your distance like he wanted, but somehow he knew everything that was going on. he didn’t have to talk to you to know you, and that’s what he was ashamed of. he watched you.

he was a creep, he felt like someone who was abnormal and making things weirder than they had to be. he was studying you and you didn’t even know. he picked up on what made you smile, which cassettes you listened to the most, which just so happened to be the ones he was ‘holding on to.’ and in the midst of observing you, he checked you out any time he got.

when you weren’t looking mostly, but even sometimes when you were talking to him about something not so important. he realized that if you did see that his eyes wandered over you, you were probably gaslighting yourself into thinking he wasn’t doing exactly what you thought he was doing. he loved your body. and he loved the way you dressed your body, the way the shirts you wore always clung to your heavy breasts, how even when you dressed in baggy clothes he still wanted to ruin you like that.

sick. you’re a sick old pervert, ya kno’ that? he knew. what joel didn’t know is why you made him feel this way, why you drove him to do the things that he does for you. why he acted feral every time you bent over, why he would storm out of the room when you got on your hands and knees to pick something you dropped up off the floor.

but he also studied you because he wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling how you felt the night you woke up in jackson, to make sure you weren’t feeling depressed or like you didn’t want to be here anymore. just talk to her fucker. he couldn’t. he would never admit it, but he’s eavesdropped near ellie’s garage to hear conversations between the two girls.

“ellie, i mean it, you cannot tell joel.” you hushed as you glanced towards the door, back to ellie.

she scoffed. “like i’d tell him, lay it on me.” you noticed the irritation in her eyes when you brought up joel, asking yourself if maybe there was something that wasn’t being said. you just put a pin in it.

“okay. one, i’m finally allowed a gun and i got my patrol route.” you cheered in a hush and joel almost pressed his ear into the door.

ellie rolled her eyes, grabbing the piece of paper. “no fucking fair. good looks, telling me bad news first. what’s two?” she joked.

“i met my patrol partner. his name’s uh, tyler? i think. yeah,” you looked down and nodded, assuring yourself. joel made it a note to tell ellie how thin her walls were, not right now though.

“tyler… tyler m?” joel thought of every man in this town named tyler with the letter M as his last name. instantly made a mental list of five tylers.

“i don’t know. but he asked me for a drink. tonight, he was gonna meet me here but i told him i’d meet him there. lesson number 5, always have a way to leave anywhere you are if you need to.” you said. you figured it’d be best to teach her as much as you could, telling her things she needed to hear to survive.

that’s how joel knew immediately what was happening when he heard your soft singing from your cracked door. you were getting ready for him. he actually hated it. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt that heat in his chest, biting the tongue—it wasn’t until his face turned down into the old familiar feeling, what he recognized as jealousy.

who was he to be jealous? for what? it was a saturday night, most people were off of work, and everyone was settling in the town’s circle to drink and watch movies. everyone but joel. he was now classified as a bitter old man, with a dark whiskey in his glass. maybe now a bitter, creepy old man as he knocks slightly on the cracked door and you invite him in.

you were fixing the laces on your shoes, simple black converse, and his eyes made his way up from there to your face. a deep v neck shirt that looked like a second skin from how tight it was, and faded black jeans with tiny holes from being lived in that hugged the fat of your thighs. he never noticed the gold dainty necklace that sat in the middle of your chest, but it sits right between the curves of your breasts. were they always that big? he felt like a kid, ogling and asking stupid questions.

“hellooo? joel?” you called to him as you rested your palms on the width of your thighs. he saw your lips, coated in a sheen and your hair split down the middle instead of being in a pony tail or bun. creepy old man. you’re being creepy joel!!! he shook his head.

“headin’ to the circle?” he asked. if he were close enough you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“yeah i-,” you thought for a minute. joel didn’t trust the next person as much as you did. you saw his protectiveness through ellie, you felt maybe he’d feel the same for you. even if you were a bit delusional.

“-was gonna catch a movie with ellie, most likely be back around 12.” you said as you glanced at the clock, 9:32.

“‘s that right?” he said suggestively, like he knew something you didn’t. he did.

“yeah. that’s right,” you stood firm, even shot him a dirty look. “why don’t you enjoy the night, joel. you got the house to yourself, ain’t that what you’ve been mopin’ around for?” you stood up and grabbed your gun to put in your waistband behind your shirt, sticking a knife in your high top converse and one in your jean pocket.

maybe you got too defensive, but you were right in a way. he looked miserable around the house, storming in just to grab a beer and lock himself in the library or room.

“that’s right,” he was just smug. so smug you couldn’t stand it, you wanted to slap him.

“whatever joel,” you wanted to be right so bad. you wanted to prove to even yourself that you were right. but neither of you were buying into this act you played, and you knew it. he was making you nervous with his stare, the hard shell you had was practically ripped off of you when he grabbed your wrist before you left the room. he held you, shoulder to shoulder and looked at your face, down your neck and to your chest.

“if you need anythin’, you let me know darlin’.” darlin’? it was so foreign to you, so alien that you didn’t even have time to process it before your mouth moved to say a small alright and taking your arm from his grip. when you did, it was cold and you could feel the print of his hand around your wrist down the stairs.

it was so different, something that leaked off of his words when he spoke to you. and you wanted to hear more of it, explore that with him.

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before you could psych yourself out of going through the bar’s doors, you heard someone call for your name and turned your head to the left to see tyler, walking towards you with a big grin on his face. tyler was just two years older than you, someone you met while you were in combat and patrol classes, and didn’t acknowledge until he approached you, re-introducing himself as your partner for the first two weeks. you couldn’t be cold and shoo him away, you just smiled and introduced yourself, really looking at him.

he was not joel miller. tyler’s skin wasn’t as tan as joel’s but he wasn’t pale, and he was actually a bit lanky even under the thick coats he layered. you noticed that his chest wasn’t as broad and strong as joel’s, hell his arms were smaller than yours. he was a skinny tall thing, while you were a bit short and thick everywhere. and when he embraced you lightly at the entrance of the bar, you just felt cold. no warmth, no comfort, you felt like you’d break him.

“hey, i was hoping you’d actually come.” he breathed in as he pulled away, still, it wasn’t feeling right.

“why wouldn’t i?”

“cause you’re out of my league,” he said with a seductive smile and you wanted to believe him. wanted to enjoy the night as it comes and maybe have a few drinks, talk. but your mind was on a bitter man who sat in a house all by his lonesome.

the thing about ‘dates’ now is that small talk doesn’t happen anymore. what’s your mom like? she’s dead actually. really? mine too! it was pointless. if you ended up here, you knew that you were alone.

it wasn’t long before you and tyler were sitting on two stools, side by side. your knees were in between his as the two of you talked, flirted, gave simple touches. you were having fun. doing what would seem normal at a bar, just enjoying the company of someone who actually liked you.

“how come you’ve never hung out with anyone else? i never see you with anyone.” he said, his fingers tapping on your knee.

“mmm, i’m just not for everyone.” you flirted, covering his fingers with yours. you knew this wasn’t going anywhere, but you’d like to live in it just a little longer. the touch of a man, someone who desired you even if it wasn’t how you wanted. something you started to crave from joel.

“maybe you’re just for me then?” he suggested, and you decided to just play into it. it was kind of hard not to when you were thinking of joel, you needed to act out on it.

“i doubt that, honey,” you said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. he smelled like tequila and grass, something not that appealing but you ignore it. you wanted something out of him tonight, because for some reason the words joel spoke to you kept ringing in your ears. if you need anything, you let me know darlin’. the words rumbled through your body and straight to your core, because if there’s anything you need he could definitely be of help.

you didn’t know how long you stayed at this bar, teasing and touching each other until you felt the ache in your core, aching for a touch that you’ve had once before. but you didn’t give a shit about purity or virginity, you wanted the ache gone and you knew tyler was the best bet.

“tyler,” you whispered in his ear as the bar started to empty.

“yes, beautiful?” he answered and slid his hand up your thigh.

“show me how good you are with your fingers, yeah?”

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he followed you back to joel’s, hand in hand as you turned the key to the house and softly opened the door to prevent the creaking. granted, you didn’t think this through, like everything else. maybe you should’ve gone to his. you cringed a bit, walking inside.

it was dark inside, nothing but the sizzle of a freshly put out fire. you put your fingers to your lips to shush him, taking him slowly upstairs and to your room. you couldn’t help but find yourself glancing at joel’s door, which is cracked open.

you finally made it to your room with the lanky man groping your body and trying to slither you out of your jeans, letting him.

“only want your fingers, okay? if not you can leave.” you established as you stood in your panties and tight shirt.

“fuck, yeah that’s okay,” tyler himself was craving a woman’s touch, he didn’t even care if he got off. he just wanted to see you, a woman’s body, to feel you.

“can i touch you? like anywhere?” he asked as he sat on the edge of your bed, his cock already hardened against his pants. it didn’t sound right coming from him. you wondered what it’d sound like with the texas twang you craved to hear from a certain man.

it still made your core twinge a bit, remembering the last time you were this vulnerable. you couldn’t lie, even if it wasn’t what you wanted, you fell in to the odd touch of the man desperately trying to touch you.

“anywhere. keep your dick in your pants, i’ll touch as i go if you want me to.” you moved over to him and crawled into your bed, and he slipped in next to you as he propped himself on his elbow to look at you.

“you’re so pretty, really.” he said, genuinely and you smiled. your stomach even fluttered a bit. it’s been a long time hearing that, hearing desire.

“touch me, please.”

tyler took his time, a little more than you’d liked but he was busy distracted with the way your tits pushed up to your chin, like you were suffocating. touching and teasing, his touch felt good but it still didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel heartstopping. maybe you’re expecting too much.

but he didn’t talk to you when he dipped his hand in your panties, you just heard his whimpers and panting as he rutted his hard on into the side of your fat thigh, barely focused on you. you weren’t feeling it anymore, your wetness wasn’t even directed towards him really. everything you did with him was what you wanted to do with joel. you weren’t interested anymore and it started to feel wrong, it never felt good because tyler wasn’t worried about you. just his nut, and you didn’t like that. you didn’t like to feel used.

“okay, wait, wait—i said wait!” you said and grabbed his wrist, pulling it from your panties and moving off of the bed.

“wait, fuck i’m sorry, i was just so, fuck i’m so sorry.” he said a bit loudly, and you swore you heard a creak in the hallway as you moved to the door.

“it’s okay, i just, i’m not–i’m tired. i think you should go.” you said, hugging your arm as he adjusted himself in his pants and got up.

“i’m sorry, i,-” he tried again and you waved him off.

“it’s done and forgotten, you didn’t do anything you were just really into it. i wasn’t.” you were careful with your words, not as tough as you would be because you’re vulnerable. but he wouldn’t get far if he hurt you, you knew that.

“i’m sorry, goodnight. can we kind of like, forget this?” he asked rubbing the back of his neck and you softly laughed.

“forget what?” you smiled and he returned it, giving a small kiss on the cheek before he left. he was a nice man, a good kid, and he meant no harm. he didn’t need a ruthless beating or yelling, just needed to tell him it wasn’t meant to be. you couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong it was, how wrong it felt being tyler touching you.

you knew who you wanted to touch you. as sweet and kind and charming tyler was, he wasn’t what you wanted. the man you wanted was across the hall from you, on the other side of the stairs. sleeping, maybe.

you knew ellie was at a friends house doing only god knows what, so with the hope in mind that joel was asleep in his room, you trotted downstairs braless, and bottomless. you were still in the same tight shirt you left in, but now just in the pink panties that were apart of the gifts maria got you. just new/traded clothing you needed. the shirt hugged you and cut off at the dip of your curve, the fat of your tummy slightly protruding between the shirt and your panties.

you didn’t look towards the fireplace where the sofas were, instead you grab a small cup and let faucet water pour into it, taking a drink.

“work up a sweat?” a deep southern voice said behind you, from a distance. you jumped at the sudden break of silence and turned quickly to the sofas.

“joel? what the fuck,” you breathed and stepped out to walk to the sofas. somehow, you completely disregarded the fact that all you had on was a shirt and panties, standing in joel miller’s living room.

“what made you think it was a bright idea to invite a bastard in my home like that? not only that,” he said. you finally saw the light from outside shining on his face as he stood up, something glimmering in his hand. a gun. “but letting him touch all over you? that prick?”

you had a lot to say, a lot to yell out. but the only thing to say was a snarky comment. “you know he called you the same thing.”

which, he did. but you were too drunk on the flirting and drinks to care or to know why, even though you already knew. joel wasn’t nice to anyone but ellie. tommy and maria even think he’s an asshole, but that’s tommy’s brother and maria’s brother in law. he’s family. but there were things that you didn’t know about joel miller. things he didn’t want you to know either.

“why do you even care? who’s touching me, i mean.” you scoff, feeling less embarrassed about your state of clothing. but being a lot more aware as he steps closer and closer to your curvy figure, putting his gun in the waistband of his sweatpants.

he was intimidating like this. towering over you with his fists clenched, searching your face for something. you felt your heartbeat pick up as his eyes raked over you and fell on your lips. he was drunk off of you, the sight of your fat cunt only being clothed by a single piece of fabric drove him to dig his nails in his palms. the nakedness of your thighs, and the midriff showing—it was going to kill him.

“if you’re gonna fuck these town folk, make sure it ain’t in my house.” he spit, and you just rolled your eyes. you felt like you were in trouble for sneaking out, like a teenager.

“i didn’t fuck anyone. we didn’t do anything. he wanted to, i didn’t.” you defended, feeling small now but still holding yourself tall.

joel just looked at you, not wondering if you were lying or not. he knew you weren’t, he heard it himself the minute he heard something bang against your wall. it was just you shuffling to get up, and he heard you consoling him. you weren’t satisfied.

“why’d you lie to me? bout’ seein’ him tonight?” he asked, your head tilted up to his as he steps one step closer. your chest is almost touch his, and your breathing was getting heavier.

“figured you wouldn’t trust him,” you said, sounding like you wanted to say something else but keeping it to yourself.

he was watching you like you were his prey. like you were something he wanted to take and devour for himself, like you were something for his eyes only.

“smart girl,”

“he touch you wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask, the curiosity killing him slowly as time passes with you standing in front of him with your tight pink panties on. he looked down between the two of you and saw the hardened pebbles that were your nipples showing up through your black tight shirt, down to your tummy that was pressed against his. he liked the softness of your belly, he was practically dying to grip it himself. he wanted to grip every part of you, to palm your pussy and feel how warm you were in his grip. he even found himself hating his own mind as thought of what your pussy would look like sucking him in.

“i, he,” you were stuttering, embarrassing yourself as his hand trailed up your arm, thinking of all the ways he could watch you take his cock for him.

you watched him watch you. how his eyes went dark again, how there was a slight touch of possessiveness in his voice. you didn’t assume though.

“can’t find the words, hm? he wasn’t makin’ you feel good?” he asked softly, watching as you closed your eyes and breathed through your mouth, opening again to see a small grin playing on his lips, his head tilted to the side. his fingers barely left your wrist, and made their way to your fleshy hip, tapping against the bare skin. he was enjoying this. making you squirm. making you nervous.

“fuck off, joel,” you meant it to come out a lot stronger than it did, even you thought you sounded needy. “s’ none of your damn business,” you spit, stronger this time.

and before you could even wallow in your retorts, a smile tugged very faintly at his lips. you weren’t so convincing when you were practically trying to pull him to your body with your fists buried in his sweater. he appreciated the effort though, he's never met someone with as much bite in their bark as you.

he just liked to watch you writhe for him. you wanted to whine with how eager you were for him, how mean he was being to you for no reason. you needed him.

“it’s like you’re not even tryin’, what’s the matter? do i make you nervous sweetheart?” he gleamed in his power over you, the way your eyes searched for him and your mouth parted, just for him. he wanted to ruin you in every way. ruin every man for you, show you how to truly be taken care of.

"go fuck yourself," you retorted and he actually laughed. and he laughed at you. a sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment filling you.

“i didn’t tell you but,” he paused as he leaned into your ear, grazing his cheek against yours and smiling to himself, “you looked real pretty today, ya know that? you look even prettier like this, all flustered for me.”

you had to be dreaming. had to have gone to sleep after tyler left, and this was your wet dream making up for it. there was no way you were this exposed to joel and he was practically pressed up against your body as he told you how pretty you looked. you couldn’t speak, your tongue was tied and joel smiled to himself as he realized he got you to shut up.

“would ya let me touch you, sweet girl? maybe you'd be nicer if someone knew how to touch you,” he asked, his fingers playing on your hip.

you still couldn’t answer. it felt like a trap, like if you let yourself give in to his words, every guard you put up was pointless. you were frozen, and suddenly felt insanely vulnerable but his voice was so inviting, so impossible to not fall into.

“touch me where?” you asked, treading lightly. you wanted to hear it, you wanted him to tell you he wanted you as bad as you wanted him. you wanted to prove to yourself that you hadn't lost your mind yet. but you also wanted to stretch whatever this was as long as possible before you find yourself on your knees for him without even asking.

joel felt like he was out of his body. like he was watching you squirm and move under his presence from above. he was so distracted by how hard your nipples were rubbing against him that he didn’t even notice your fists balled into his shirt, trying to take him in closer. maybe it was the alcohol he drank to ignore the jealousy he felt, or maybe it was the fact that tommy came to tell joel about the boy you were seeing. how the two of you were practically on top of each other before he left, how he was touching you in public–he was angry.

nothing was done, nothing more than joel grabbing your almost bare hip and you tugging on his shirt, but it still felt like something that was crossing a line. a line you wanted to cross.

until he got the courage to grab the hand that was buried in his sweater, taking it in his own and touching you with your hand. he was answering your question. his hand ghosted on top of yours as his eyes watched your eyes train on the sight between the two of the bodies, enjoying how soft and pink you look. you were hot and bothered, and he could get used to seeing you like this.

“first place i’d touch you, baby,” he breathes, his lips practically against your cheek now. he was breathing you in, drinking you in, “is right here,”

his hand guided you to cup your mound, angry that it wasn’t his hand touching you. your breath was shaky while you watched him, your eyes flickering from his moving hand to his eyes, and every time he made sure your eyes latched onto his. he wanted you to know how much he was enjoying teasing you like this, he wanted you to remember the way he looked at you while you panted against him.

“but like this, lemme show you ‘xactly how i’d touch you sweetheart,” he was lost, drunken only on you, ignoring the world around him. “don’t think that boy would be enough for a woman like you, ain’t that right?"

he took his own hand as you were still pressed against his front, his lips now teasing the skin of the crook of your neck and starting to pull your panties away from your skin to dip his hand inside. your breathing was uneven and your soft whimpers were getting louder the more he trailed down into your underwear, and he was loving them.

the second he felt the scruff of your unshaved mound, he heard you release a shaky, sexy breath, and he grew harder against your bare abdomen. even feeling the heat of your skin on his clothed cock made him want to get on his knees and worship you.

"needy little fuckin' thing, that desperate for me huh? you gonna let me feel this pretty pussy how i want?"

he was so fucking filthy. so filthy for someone who hasn't even seen you naked, so filthy for someone who didn't even talk to you before this. it was agonizing, you were melting into his harsh words and wanted to listen to him make you feel small like this all night.

"joel, i swear," you warned as his breath hit your lips with his eyes on yours.

you had a bush, he thought to himself. he really didn’t think that would turn him on of course, but now he pictured you standing in front of him, bottomless. how your belly would look with your curves, the way your breasts would rest at their natural position, your thighs fat and wide all for him, and the pretty fat mound waiting for him to feel and taste. worst time to think all of that of course, because it sent a flood of blood and excitement to his groin, giving him another thing to be nervous about. but god did he want to see it, see all of you laid in his bed, and tugging on the thatch of hair on your mound. he was fucked.

and god forbid you figured out that he’s been picturing you bent and folded in every way just so he could reach to the back of your cervix, if you figured out that his anger towards you is pent up sexual frustration because every time you’re in the shower, he’s thinking of the way you looked lathered in soap, waiting for him to join you. he was a sick man to think of you like this, but all of his desires and fantasies were threatening to barge in, to unleash all of his wants and needs to you.

he was fighting himself to be a respectable man, a man who doesn’t think of women who were young enough to be his own kid in ways that were sinful. he shouldn’t be wanting to fill your throat with his cock when you smart mouth him. he was losing whoever he thought was himself, and letting heart and cock do his thinking.

you couldn't think right, nothing was processing as you felt the heat of his hand on your cunt. you felt another wave of pleasure hit you and suddenly, you could feel your wetness pooling for him in your panties. you had a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that joel actually wanted you too, even if he wanted to put you in your place for once and shut you up.

you didn't care how he wanted you. you were a bitch, but you were desperate for him.

"mmm, you're real scary, baby, threats ain't gettin' you anywhere. you have t' beg me for my fingers," he teased, rubbing the hair on your mound.

"oh fuck off, i'm not begging you for shit," you're putting up a fight with yourself, and you were winning. at leadt you thought so. even if you were letting him touch you this way, you weren't goping to beg him or give him the pleasure of watching you submit to him.

"yeah? maybe i'll jus' make ya," he grinned, his sinister smile forming while he rested his forehead on yours, his hand inside your panties as the two of you watched him tease your lips.

the second joel’s finger moves from your hairy mound to the fat lips of your cunt to spread and feel just how much you ached for him, to tease your hole so you'd be sent into a fit of desperation, the two of you heard the doorknob jiggle and a loud laugh from the outside, meaning it was ellie. joel pulled his hand and body away quickly and nodded upstairs with a hard look, giving you the hint to go before ellie saw you in your panties.

your face expressed everything to him, you needed him. and you didn’t want to let go. he watched as you walked up the stairs, your ass practically eating up the fabric of your panties. it left nothing to the imagination and he groaned, something you swore you heard, before he fixed himself in his pants.

ellie walked in, and you stayed at the top of the stairs out of sight to hear the lecturing.

“are you outta your damn mind, ellie? it’s three in the mornin’,” his paternal instincts were coming out, and you smiled.

“i was down the street. relax, i just didn’t want to stay there.” ellie defended as she slipped her shoes off.

“did somethin’ happen? are you hurt?” he asked quickly, examining ellie to see if he saw blood or cuts anywhere.

“jeez, no joel lay off. why are you up anyways isn’t it like six hours past your bedtime?” she scoffed, annoyed at the father figure lecturing her right now. what was he gonna tell her?

“was waitin for your friend to come home, so i can lock up before bed,” he lied. he was lying and you knew it. you came home an hour ago, and he was still up.

“you’re in love aren’t ya? old man,” ellie teased. her demeanor was a little more playful than she’d been this last month and he shook his head annoyed, but to you it was silent. your lips pinched into a thin line as you heard joel grunt.

“go to be ellie. now.” he ordered and she rolled her eyes, saying her good nights and going to the garage to sleep in her space.

a part of you wanted joel to come upstairs, into your room and to do everything he wanted to do. you didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do, but with the touching and flirting he was doing, it seemed like he wanted you. maybe he was drunk, you could smell it on his breath! he seemed pretty sober talking to ellie. you cursed yourself as you moved quietly to your room, leaving the door cracked open just in case.

but nothing. you heard him trudge up the stairs, and walk directly the opposite direction into his own room. you were frustrated at this point. sexually frustrated if you must say, and the ache in your core was not leaving any time soon.

you felt embarrassed, and you felt like joel was toying with you. all of the sudden this comes up and he's trying to finger fuck you in the living room when you genuinely thought he didn't even acknowledge your mere existence. it was so confusing for you, but the only thing you knew for sure now after a few weeks of deciding is that you craved joel miller.

it was a weird feeling. only because growing up in an apocalyptic world as a teenager and a young adult meant your chances of love and relationships were slim to none, at least for you. but you met joel in times where you had given up already.

as you lied in bed, wondering if joel was asleep or thinking about you too, you felt silly. you were setting yourself up for disaster by having hope that whatever this was with joel was more than that, and not just that. you worried you were getting ahead of yourself, maybe you were taking joel's advances too seriously. what if he just wants an easy fuck? nothing serious, something for pleasure in this dark world where everyone seeks a way to alleviate their pain

you felt like maybe you were geting into your head like you always do. maybe this could be good. maybe this could be your chance to let go, be vulnreable again, let someone make you feel like a teenager again. you had your fair share of crushes when you were in the QZ, you remembered that innocent feeling of liking someone, the shyness that came with it, how nervous you got around them. and with joel, you felt that times one hundred.

the flutters in your stomach, the goosebumps on your skin when he stands too close to you. he made you feel good even without trying.

but nothing good comes from joel miller.

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