#pls tag me if you’re inspired by this

[free-for-all-fics]

So I had this thought about The Recruiter from Squid Game and it would not leave my head until I wrote it out as a prompt! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this at all, and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

Before he became involved in the games, he grew up in a poor household. His parents were high school dropouts. They would have a lot to do once their baby arrived. While terminating the pregnancy had been seriously discussed, his mother ultimately decided against it. She thought of it as a happy accident. She had been an orphan and on the run all her life, but when she became pregnant, she finally felt like she put down roots. She didn’t care if the father, her boyfriend, didn’t want anything to do with her or her baby. She was going to have her baby and raise it well. She knew it was a jungle out there, and if her child took after her, they’d be a handful…but she wanted her child to be happy. She didn’t care if her baby was a boy or a girl so long as he or she was healthy. She thought if she lost her pregnancy, she’d look back on that time as a living hell. His father was nineteen and his mother was eighteen when he was born. They married before she was showing. The rumors were that he arrived sooner than either of his parents planned, conceived earlier in their marriage than expected, or that he was the result of indiscretion, a love child, and the premise for the marriage. While his existence lent itself to both predicaments, the latter could be corroborated by the testimonies that his father was "immature and not ready for marriage" nor "prepared to raise a family". He "felt trapped in the commitment that being a part of a family required and couldn't handle the responsibility of raising a child." It was very possible his father married his mother out of obligation or was forced.

Either way, it was to salvage her reputation. As a result of her pregnancy, his mother never got to fulfill her dream of going to college. All of the money she saved for her tuition went towards childcare. She was a stay at home mother, while he grew up watching her do all kinds of odd jobs like peeling and selling chestnuts, babysitting, pet sitting, sewing clothing or plush dolls, etc. in her efforts to put food on the table. She made sure he had clothes on his back and food to eat, nearly working herself to death while his father spent most of his days between jobs and unemployed. What paychecks he did bring home were mostly used to feed his alcohol, drug, or gambling addiction.

And then you came along many years later. You were also an unplanned pregnancy and, whether your mother couldn’t afford to terminate or she decided not to do that nor give you up for adoption, you lived under the same roof. Your brother was at least twelve years older than you and, within two years after you were born, your father, the coward that he was who always ran away from his responsibilities, just up and left. He was gone and all his belongings and all his money, what little there was, was gone too. He didn’t even leave a note. Your brother came home from school and found your mother crying at the dinner table. Without her saying anything, he just knew. You weren’t the burden, your deadbeat dad was. He hated his father. He was a shitty man, a shitty husband, and an even shittier father. He was little more than utterly useless, a total waste of space. If he looked at him for too long it made him physically sick. His father didn’t beat him at first, only his mom. He could’ve done something to stop it. But he didn’t. His father made his home a living hell. That’s why he was glad he was gone.

Despite the hardship your birth and your father’s abrupt leaving added onto his mother and himself, he could never hate you. You were just a baby. You were innocent in all of this. It wasn’t your fault you were born into a family living on or below the poverty line and that money was so tight all the time. It wasn’t his fault either. After your father abandoned you, your mother worked even harder to raise money. But her income wasn’t enough and, when he was still a minor, he had to make money by running errands or doing chores for neighbors and contribute his earnings to provide for you and get you through school. He had to help pay for your uniforms, books, and other supplies. But he loved you more than anyone and you loved him just as much. Instead of hanging out with his friends, he stayed home and babysat you. At first, you were resentful of being watched at all because you were going through that phase where you thought you were all grown up and big enough to be left alone for a few hours. But he had a way with kids, his energy so much like one that it was hard for them to hate him. In just a few hours you were best friends, thicker than thieves. Despite your big age gap, he loved spending time with you. He’d play with you and draw with you while watching you whenever your mother needed a break. He and your mother made sure you were raised well with proper discipline so you wouldn’t grow up spoiled but, at the same time, wouldn’t grow up traumatized like they were either. Once he was old enough to work, he opened his own bank account and worked his ass off at all kinds of jobs to make enough of his own money to pay his way through college. He’d be damned if he let his father come crawling back like a dog begging for scraps and have access to a single cent. But he saw what debt did to people, how it so easily spiraled out of control and destroyed lives. He’d be damned if he took out a loan he couldn’t pay back, he thought.

When there was no money for dinner, he made sure you still got to eat by either stealing from convenience stores or giving you half of his lunch. Even a cup of noodles or a bread roll was like a feast fit for a queen in your eyes. But the biggest dinner treat when you were a child was Happy Toast. Happy Toast was pretty simple. It was a piece of toast. With a happy face drawn on it in tomato sauce. Once or twice every couple of weeks, your brother would get you Happy Toast for dinner. Those nights were the best. You didn't have to use cutlery! You could eat with your fingers! Your brother would let you choose whether your Happy Toast had straight or curly hair! And, even better, your brother and you got to sit at the table and have dinner by yourselves. Mom would still be at work or already asleep, so that left you and your brother alone in the kitchen. Sometimes he’d make you what he called Shark Infested Beans to put on your Happy Toast. Before you were born, your mom would make him a bowl of baked beans, with little toast triangles standing up in it for the shark fins. Sometimes the toast fins would have bites taken out of them. She told him the sharks had been fighting and it was the funniest thing in the world to him back then. He was in his late teens when he finally found out that those bites were all she'd eaten that day. He did that with all of your meals to get you to eat your food, making a game out of it by pretending the rice was a spaceship, the vegetables were cars, the fruit were bicycles, the meat was airplanes, etc. But Happy Toast nights were amazing.

Your brother got his driver’s license and bought himself a car and rented a cheap apartment so he could move out as soon as possible after his 18th birthday. Even though it wasn’t the prettiest or most impressive car and was like a junker more than anything, it worked well enough to get him from point A to point B. The same could’ve been said for his apartment. Old and dingy, small and not very pretty, but clean and livable. He made plans to go off to college. He’d spent so many years working towards earning his college tuition, studying and preparing for graduation, and raising you that he’d accidentally let university applications fall through the cracks. But one day, he checked his admission results and…

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED!

But it wasn’t like just anyone accepted could go to college. He needed money to go. He’d saved up enough money for the initial deposit - four million won - and he’d pay the rest off with part-time jobs while he was at school. It was amazing! God, he had a pretty rough day that day. But that result made up for all of that. He was a college student now. He got in. Very soon, he’d fulfill your mother’s dream of him becoming a college student. Her son was totally awesome, right? But just as he had all of that money saved up and was well into his third year of college, on track for graduation, the worst happened: Your mother died. She had worked herself to death, after all. When he got the phone call, he didn’t know how he managed to act like a normal, vaguely irritated son for the entirety of it. Inside he was white hot rage. The first thing he did when he hung up the phone was shatter it. His whole apartment became a particularly fragile punching bag. If anyone were to have come inside, they would’ve looked at the destruction with bewilderment and asked, "Did you get robbed?"

Stepping into his childhood home for the first time in so many years made him sick. He swore he could still smell your mother's perfume in the air, but he turned the corner and there was another woman cooking and prancing around in her fucking kitchen like she owned the place. She wasn’t one of the neighbors. She wasn’t anyone he knew. She said she was his father’s girlfriend and that his father was a truck driver now and so he wouldn’t be coming to his own wife’s funeral. He wanted to string her up by her intestines. To choke her with them. He wanted to kill her first and make his father watch the entire thing. But he couldn’t do that. So he’d have to just settle on making sure to psychologically torture her in some way to make up for it. But however painful the step-whore's death would be, he imagined that he would make his father's twenty times worse if he ever saw his face again. That would be for his mother and for you. But it would have looked suspicious if the older man died at home. So he waited, impatiently. His death would come someday and he had to stay alive to witness it.

Speaking of death… Maybe it was a little vindictive of him to call his father for the first time in four, nearly five years to demand he forfeit his parental rights and give him custody of you before his wife was even in the ground. But he was gonna get around to it anyways, eventually. It was not a request. He never asked his father for anything and he wasn’t going to start now that his mom was dead. But when he brought it up, your father laughed his ass off about it as if it was a joke. He laughed again when his son threatened to take him to Family Court. He needed money to send in an application or push forward a petition. Money his father knew he didn’t have. Though he couldn’t do anything in that moment, that topic of discussion was far from over.

You didn’t come downstairs when he first arrived and he wanted to roll his eyes at his father’s side piece telling him, "she's not usually like this, honest-" as if she gave a shit about you at all and wasn’t just there because his father told her to come in his stead to save face. He was the only one left alive who genuinely loved and cared about you. You were still just a kid. It wasn’t your fault your mom died, your dad was a piece of shit, and your dad’s new girlfriend was a useless whore. When you slinked your way downstairs and dragged your feet in that petulant way that only kids could, he started to rethink about not taking up the job offer he was given. You spent all of dinner not saying two words to your dad’s girlfriend, but you had the nerve to scowl at her the entire time like she was intruding in your house and you were wondering when she was gonna leave. Or die.

Circumstances being what they were, he had no other choice but to use his college savings for your mother’s funeral. He held your hand as you cried and comforted you as well as he could. But you couldn’t stay inside for long. You could barely breathe through your sobs already, and the air felt musky and you felt like you were suffocating with all those people around offering you their sympathies and condolences. He took you outside for some space and fresh air. But after the funeral was over, there was her memorial to worry about. If he didn’t make the payments, his mother’s pictures and the urn containing her ashes would be moved to storage. He learned that the hard way when he took you to visit her on the third anniversary of her death when you were thirteen years old, and she wasn’t there. You were crying, clutching a bouquet of flowers you didn’t know what to do with.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“Where's the urn that used to be here? Our mother's.”

“This one? Did you not know? The payment on this space is three years overdue now. And we couldn't get in touch with the guardian.”

“So are you saying you threw it away?”

“We didn't throw it away. We have it in storage.”

“In storage?”

“Yes.”

“How could you just shove it in storage because of overdue payments? Do people need to be evicted, even in death, due to rent overdue?”

“We have our internal rules as well.”

“How much money do we owe you?”

“Five million won.”

“What?”

“Five million won.”

“Five million?”

“Get out of the way. Can you keep things quiet around here?” A passerby trying to mourn their loved one asked.

“I apologize.”

“Let's continue this outside.”

“Please, sir. Can you take my mom out of storage? I brought a present for my mom. My teacher told me that you're supposed to give white roses to people you respect. Please, sir. Please,” you begged as you cried, not caring if it made you look pathetically childish or immature for your age. You didn’t know what else to do or say.

While you were in another room being watched over by a neighbor, your brother faced your mother’s urn, talking to it as if he were talking to her.

“Mom. I do have most of the money and I can take out a loan for the rest. Your wish was for me to go to college. Right? That was your wish. Well, I’ve been to college, but I don’t need to graduate. So I’m going to drop out now, okay? My sister can graduate college instead, right? I'm your son whom you're proud of, so I can drop out of college, right? I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry. I don't think I'll need to graduate college. I'm sorry if you’re disappointed, Mom. But I’m making this decision because I'm going through such a hard time. Things are so hard for me right now. I miss you so much, Mom. Sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I miss you, Mom. I'll come see you soon.”

He took out all of the money he had in his savings and took out a loan for the remaining won he needed and used it to pay off the debt that was owed for your mother’s memorial. While he couldn’t graduate college now and had debts to pay, you were at least able to give your mother white roses and smiled as you talked to her.

After that, despite working a lot, he was still struggling financially, and had spent the last bit of his money on a few grocery items just to get through to payday. Three days later — and the night before his pay would arrive in his bank account — he had absolutely nothing to feed you for dinner. The fridge and pantry were bare, apart from a few pieces of stale bread, and the usual condiments.

"I'm hungry…” you complained. You looked malnourished. Like you hadn’t eaten in days.

He fought back the burning tears behind his eyes. And that was when it hit him. "Let's have Happy Toast!" He exclaimed, plastering a smile across his face. With great laughter and fun, you drew tomato sauce faces on pieces of toast, and you gobbled them up with the same reckless enjoyment he remembered having on Happy Toast nights as a child. Him? Oh, he didn't eat any. He supervised from the kitchen. There wasn't enough bread for him to have dinner and for you to have a full stomach. That night, after you were sleeping happily, he thought back to those Happy Toast nights as a child. From the perspective of an adult, their frequency made sense — his parents were paid biweekly; Happy Toast nights were probably the night before payday. And Dad was in the military — he could eat dinner at work for free (or close to it), which is why those were the only nights he wasn't home for dinner. And Mom? She made the exact same choice he did. Now, you and he ate "poor" food all the time. Your standard dinner was seaweed soup, made with small portions of the cheapest meat, lots of seaweed, and a sprinkling of soy sauce, sesame oil, minced garlic, and salt to taste. Your mother often made it for your and his birthdays since she couldn’t always afford rice cakes or actual cakes. But Happy Toast was a treat from that mundanity — and the real testament to both your mother's parenting, and your financial state.

While you ate, you started telling him things. “I hate playing happy family. Dad’s girlfriend only ever pays attention to me when people are around. She’s always gone and Dad never calls. I think they both wish it was just them, that I wasn't here—”

Your brother might not have been the most empathetic person around (obviously) but something about the things you told him made him feel for you. You had a sad little orphan thing going on. He didn’t know why he thought he should spend more time with you while he was home, but he did. Maybe it was because he knew his new job as a pink guard in the Squid Games was starting soon and that it was dangerous and he could get shot if he wasn’t careful. Maybe it was to better sell you the lie about what he did for work and explain how he’d suddenly have all this money to give you anything you asked for someday soon. You pouted when he told you he was leaving for his new job soon and would be gone for at least a week. Until he came back, he arranged for a neighbor to watch you so you wouldn’t be left alone in the house. You weren’t missing school or starving to death on his watch. The day before he left, he took you out to some diner he knew you’d like for a special "brother/sister" breakfast. You moped in his car, you stomped your way into the restaurant, and you slouched in your chair when you were seated. When he asked you if you wanted crayons to color with, you instantly knew that he was lovingly mocking you like he used to do. Sensing the game was on, you took a big sip of your water and tried to spit it out towards him like a super soaker water gun, hoping to wet him. It didn’t work, but he admired your spitefulness. When your food came, you only sat in silence, pushing it around your plate for a bit before you broke.

“Dad sucks. He’s not even here, and I hate him.”

“I know you do, but try not to. Don’t waste your energy on thinking about him. He’s not worth it. Indifference is so much worse than hate. Trust me, I know from experience.”

“I can’t help it. Even if I try not to think about him, I still do. I’m sure he hates me too.”

You didn’t start crying big alligator tears like he thought you would. He was already preparing for it, thinking about how he was going to have to bribe you with ice cream or something to stop you from crying. Instead you sunk further into your seat, like you wanted to melt there.

“He doesn't hate you.”

“He just wishes I was never born. That I wasn’t around...doesn’t he? Neither of them want me around."

“How did you know?” He asked, and then sighed. “Don’t take it personally. He was the same with me when I was your age. He’s never liked children, not even his own. That’s why I moved out as soon as I could. Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault he left. He would’ve found another excuse to go even if you hadn’t been born.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you with me when I left home.”

He wondered what the hell your dad’s girlfriend was doing behind closed doors to make you feel the way you felt after your mom died. He knew his father was lousy, he'd already grown up with him. But your dad’s girlfriend had seemed normal. A little fake, but normal. He didn’t know what went on in that house before he got there. So you told him. About the neglect. The long hours alone that sometimes became days. By the end of it, your little hands were balled into fists and your food was ice cold. The entire time your brother sat quietly, hating himself for letting your suffering go on so long and despising your dad and his girlfriend even more. At the end, you regretted telling him anything. You started to turn to the window, ready to ignore him until he decided to take you both home. You turned back around when he said,

"Dad should’ve never been granted sole custody of you after Mom died. He is unfit to be a parent."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. You were shocked he took you seriously. "Yeah, he is." You finished eating your breakfast quietly but neither of you left the diner feeling the way you did when you came in.

The week he was gone passed by uneventfully. Prior to leaving, your brother ended the lease on his apartment and, when he came back from wherever he went for work, he stayed home with you. Even though it was very late at night, you were standing outside the neighbor’s house you’d been staying at to greet him when his car pulled up. When he took you home, neither your dad nor his girlfriend were in sight. You told him about school. About the things you'd been doing since you last saw him. About how you managed to watch some of the horror movies he snuck you, and you didn't even have to sleep with the light on afterwards. He sat through it all dutifully and maybe even with amusement. He sat shell-shocked for a minute. Frankly, he'd never talked to a kid for as long as he talked to you. You were not the same withdrawn kid you were when your mother died, that was for sure.

You curled up on the side of him and the two of you fell asleep on the couch together. He woke up a few hours later when your dad finally made an appearance, stumbling in with his girlfriend. They were both drunk and shushing each other too loudly. It pissed him off, thinking about how they'd have probably gone out on the town and left you alone even if he didn’t make arrangements to have you stay with a neighbor or if he wasn’t there to watch you himself. He wondered just how many times you were left alone in this house that was too big and lonely for him even when he was a teenager, let alone a fucking kid like you. When he ran into your dad and his girlfriend, they were in the kitchen, opening another pack of beer like they weren’t wasted enough.

"Thanks for finding someone to look after the kid last week. I know she can be a lot." His dad’s girlfriend said.

The words made him stop cold and he looked behind them, to the drawer that the knives were kept in and almost said fuck it. If the miserable bastard hadn't wanted to be a father this badly he should have kept it in his pants or gotten a vasectomy. He wanted to cut his dad’s dick off. He wanted to stab his dad’s girlfriend in her throat to make her shut the fuck up.

"Yeah, no problem." He had to leave before he killed either of them.

He didn’t wake you up so you could go up to bed on your own. For some reason, he thought about the last time he ever got carried up to bed and picked you up and took you there himself. He remembered the feeling of waking up, drowsy but safe on his mother's shoulder. Of being tucked in, and then waking up in bed later, only vaguely aware that someone else put him there. He was younger than you were then, that last time. But he didn’t think it mattered that much. He didn’t think you'd ever get cared for like that if he didn’t do it himself. Though your mother did her best, she was often too weak and exhausted to carry you, even when you were very little. He didn’t think it was enough and he wanted to make you feel as loved as he was by her. At least, when your mother was alive, she was there for you. So he put you into bed, and tucked you under the covers, and sat beside you for awhile, just staring. He looked up when he felt like he was being watched, only to find your dad in the doorway staring at him. Then the old man turned around and went to bed. He didn’t say a word to him about his behavior and poor decisions. Not even a goddamn fucking apology.

Whether or not it was a special occasion like a holiday or your birthday, your brother gave you a present: Your very first cell phone with his number already saved in it. He smiled and ruffled your hair, telling you not to be a stranger and to take care of yourself whenever he had to go away for work in the summer. He told you that if there was ever an emergency when he wasn’t there and you needed him, to just give him a call and he’d come running. Your dad stood so stiffly as he got ready to leave on a long truck haul again. He’d be gone for months, leaving your brother to look after you. He extended his hand towards your dad for a handshake, not wanting to put either of them through an awkward goodbye hug. He didn’t deserve such warm familiarity.

“These things aren’t human. They’re just trash, utterly useless in this world.”

He kept telling himself that and worked hard for a few years. Then they gave him a gun. It felt pretty good. Like his existence was acknowledged for the first time in his life. The months went quickly and, before he knew it, it was time to don his pink uniform for another annual round of games. But he wasn’t as excited as he thought he was going to be. He didn’t know why he was starting to get second thoughts. But he had a job to do and it was too late to back out of it now. The years went by quickly. A mass murder here, another one there, in between figuring out what to get you for your birthday or what color dress you preferred for a school dance. Life outside the games was hard, but inside it was easy. Despite real life creeping in and threatening to bleed over into the bottle world the games were held in, he had almost forgotten about his dad entirely.

Almost.

Summer hit again when it finally happened. He doesn’t know which year it was but one day he was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. His dad. His dad was suddenly standing right in front of him. He was in tears, desperately begging him to spare his life. His pink and black uniform concealed his identity. He didn’t say a word but, even if he had, the voice modulator would’ve masked his voice. He didn’t know it was his own son pointing the gun at him. And he never would know. There was crying, begging, pleading. He drew it out for a long time. At the end of it, his father was whimpering, staring at the bloodied corpses of other players and asking why. It was a question he didn’t deserve the answer to. So he shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, “Ah. I’m cut out for this job.” He had absolutely no qualms about shooting his own father dead. No remorse or guilt. He killed him and it was his best work yet. He had plenty of practice over the years.

He was offered a promotion to be a recruiter for the games shortly afterwards. It was easy being a pink guard. He only had to work for a week out of the year. But being a recruiter would require him to work year round. Once the games were over for the year, he’d be as busy as ever. He’d need to find and recruit more players for subsequent years. He should’ve been eager to accept. But something was gnawing at him, threatening to eat him alive from the inside until he asked his superiors, hesitantly, "Since my dad died in the games… If I become a recruiter…what's gonna happen to my little sister?"

And there it went. The reason his stomach had been twisted up into knots. He killed his own father for failing a game. He couldn’t care less about that. His father had it coming for a long while. He had been as shitty as he could be, outright forgetting to feed you or pay the bills to keep the lights on. You were once hospitalized from severe malnourishment and food poisoning because of your father and his girlfriend’s incompetence and negligence. Two days after your eleventh birthday, you were sent to bed without dinner by your dad’s girlfriend. You were almost unable to sleep because you were so hungry it felt like you were starving. You had already run out of the candy you had stashed away in your room. Later, your sleepwalking got so bad that you got out of bed and went around the house, eating various non-edibles. First, you went to the kitchen and ate animal food that your dad’s girlfriend bought for her pet. Then, you went to the bathroom and ate from a tube of toothpaste. Then you ate the berries or seeds from a plant on the window sill because you confused them for edible sunflower seeds or berries. You thought all flower seeds or berries were edible. In your dreaming state, you didn’t realize what you were actually eating. Your dad didn’t want gossip, so he almost didn’t bring you to a hospital, just like how he never brought his wife to a hospital after beating her. It was his girlfriend who found you and called the ambulance, not him. He would’ve let you die and claimed it was an accident. Your brother was terrified and pissed when he found out. He got a speeding ticket on the way to the hospital and was there the entire time while they worked to save you from the toxins in your stomach. If he hadn’t swooped in and worked his ass off or stole food to feed you, you very well could’ve starved or been poisoned to death sooner.

Needless to say, his dad had been living off of borrowed time anyway. And as for his dad’s girlfriend… Knowing that appearance is everything, he made sure to publicly bond with her. He went grocery shopping with her. They got lunch. Anything to sell the image of a perfect family. Anything to alleviate suspicion when she wound up dead and her body went missing thanks to the connections his new job offered him.

But you? They weren’t planning on killing you. There were strict rules to the games. One of them was players had to be ages 18 and up to play. Minors were ineligible to play. They hadn’t killed any kids. And they never would. Ironically, when discussing how much fun and thrilling it would be to watch desperate people who were drowning in debt die in deadly children’s games - the thought of killing actual children or watching them die made the viewers and organizers uncomfortable. While it may not have seemed like it to the players, even those responsible for the games weren’t completely morally bankrupt. Even their kind of evil had standards. But what about the aftermath? He didn’t know what was going to happen to you if he couldn’t take you in. You were still a minor and had no other living family besides him. Were you gonna get carted off by the state? Or shipped away to some other family who couldn't give a shit about you? The thought made him sick, but he didn’t want to admit it. But his superiors told him they thought of that and the proper arrangements would be made so he could legally have custody of you. No matter how busy he was, he’d still be able to make time for you and keep up a somewhat healthy work-life balance. For him, they made an exception to the rule about recruiters needing to cut all ties with family to uphold the secrecy of the games. They let him keep you, someone from his past life in the outside world.

After the games were over, he was allowed to return home. He snuck back into his childhood house and you were just where he left you. Tucked in and sleeping soundly in your bed. He went to his own room and fell asleep with a smile on his face. He got up twice in the night, restless. Each time he wound up outside your door. Sometime later, police officers showed up at the front door, hats in their hands, and handed him a legal envelope with the signed transfer of custody papers. They told him that something awful was believed to have happened to his dad, though his body wasn’t found. He pretended to be shocked. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of how you were definitely eavesdropping, too impatient for him to come and tell you what was going on after the police left. It was to help with appearances, sure, but he was actually looking forward to looking after you. He felt a lot less smug when he turned around and you were sobbing your eyes out. The moment he sat down next to you, you threw yourself at him, clinging to him like he was a lifeline. And he was surprised at how quickly he wrapped his arm around you. At the way he rubbed your arm and squeezed your shoulder, trying his best to soothe you. You weren’t crying for your dad. You were crying for yourself.

“What's gonna happen to me, Oppa?" You wailed, helpless in the way only a kid could be.

He was looking down at you and, before he knew it, he opened his mouth and said, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're my sister. We're family. See this paper? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on." It didn’t make you stop crying but he kept saying it, over and over. “You're gonna be okay. Nothing's ever going to happen to you. I’ll take care of you, I promise. Come on, are you hungry? I could eat, so let’s eat. I’ll make you seaweed soup.”

You were better off with him anyways.

Looking back, your brother practically raised you even before your parents’ deaths, so him becoming your legal guardian didn’t feel that much different from how things were. You thought you’d feel some kind of change, but you didn’t. You’re an adult now. It wasn’t until you were much older that you really understood that Happy Toast wasn't really a treat - it just had good PR thanks to your brother. Though he helped you a lot throughout the years, you didn’t want to financially rely on him for everything. You wanted to be independent. You got a job and paid for most of your college tuition and living expenses including your car, apartment, and phone on your own. Whatever money you borrowed from your brother to pay for the rest, you made a budgeted plan to pay back in installments over a period of time.

“I can't take your money just because we're family! I donated that money to you!”

“What did you just say? Donate? Did you donate that money because you felt sorry for me?” You asked. You huffed and stood up. “I want to go home.”

“Where do you think you're going? You are home. You have a room here.”

You shook your head. “This is where you live, but I meant I want to go back to my own place.”

“Sit down. I know how precise you want to be with money, but don't do that to me. I'll wire the money back to your account.”

“No! It's your money. Just take it.”

“Would you take it if you were me? What kind of a man would take his little sister’s money...especially when she's doing financially bad! I'd be reluctant to take it even if you had lots of money.”

“Don't look at me like that. I think even family members should pay back what they owe. And I’m not even doing bad. I’m doing just fine. Better than fine. I can afford to pay you back. I may not be making nearly as much as you, but it’s not like I can't pay my rent if I don't have that money.”

“Don't you get it? I don't want it.”

“But I want to pay you back!”

“Stop being stubborn!”

“Oh, whatever! I'm leaving!” You got up and grabbed your coat, your purse, and your car keys.

“Hey! Stop right there! I'll count to three! One, two, two and a half, three...”

Ignoring him, you put your shoes on and left, his front door shutting behind you loudly even though you didn’t slam it.

He immediately grabbed his phone and called you. When you picked up, he said, “Hey! One, two—”

The line went dead again. You hung up on him.

“Hello? Hello? Hey! Hey!” He looked at the screen and then threw his phone on the coffee table in frustration. He couldn’t believe you were paying him back! And on top of that, you insisted on paying interest. He was so pissed! He would’ve smacked some sense into you if he could’ve.

~

It’s now present day and you haven’t heard much from your brother in the last two years. While others may find it odd, it’s normal for you to not hear from your brother much. You still don’t know exactly what he does for a living beyond working in business. All you know is that he’s often busy with work and is called away from home to go on long business trips all over South Korea, often to places where he can’t be reached by phone. But he always emphasized to you that if there was ever an emergency and you needed him, he’d drop what he was doing and come to your aid. Luckily, you haven’t had to take him up on that offer. In the past two years, though his communications were considerably less than previous years, he still sent you the usual birthday and holiday cards and called you periodically. That was enough to assure you he was well. As the saying goes: No news is good news.

But then, in his mad hunt for The Recruiter, Gi-hun discovers your existence and connection to the man he’s been after. The loan sharks he’s hired to investigate and search for him somehow find out this information through what seems almost like a miracle or lucky break and they relay said information to Gi-hun immediately after confirming it’s legit.

“Sir, we’ve been doing what we can to find that man. His whereabouts and identity are still unknown, but we found something. It might be a lead.”

“What is it?”

“He has a younger sister.”

“I'm sorry?”

“He has a younger sister.”

“Living?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We cross-checked and verified the information multiple times. It’s legit. She lives in Seoul. But if we question her, a lot of craziness might go on all at once and, in the end, she might not be able to tell you anything if he’s kept her in the dark about these games to cover his tracks. She might be afraid if we just show up at her home or corner her in public. We don’t know if she still keeps in contact with her brother and, if she does, she may tip him off that we’re onto him and we may lose all of our progress, what little we’ve made, if she goes into hiding too. How should we proceed?”

Gi-hun tells them to watch you from a distance for the time being and, when the time is right, to question you subtly, casually. He tells them no matter what, to not let you know they’re looking for your brother, just that they’re looking for someone who might have seen something rather than someone who did something. No one thinks that their family or neighbors are capable of what The Recruiter’s done. He tells them that they should get started. After tailing you and monitoring your activity for days or weeks to learn your routine, the opportunity finally comes. They approach and give you a cover story that they’re looking for a missing dog that was last seen near where you live. They even show you a picture of the dog.

“We're hoping that you may have seen something and not even realized it. Maybe you have a neighbor who takes his trash out late, works on his car in his garage, anything that might put someone outside at an odd hour and give them the opportunity to see something.”

“I see. But it’s hard for me to remember things like that. Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“It won't be overt. Neighborhood kids probably aren’t afraid of this person.”

“They aren’t? The person you’re describing…is it possible they have an explosive temper?”

“Definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Anger wasn't normal at my house after my dad left. Usually when it happened, when it exploded, it was an anomaly. A surprise. My older brother was overly solicitous. Too nice. And if I wanted anything... Bicycles, toys, dolls... All I had to do was ask. But in public and in groups, he always held my hand. Always. Sometimes so tight, it almost cut off the circulation. But the weird thing is… I can never remember him putting me on his lap or carrying me in his arms or on his shoulders, holding me in any way beyond an arm around my shoulder or a quick side hug. He only ever held or carried me in his arms when I was asleep. And...my brother would always have these talks with me. He was terrified someone would take me.”

“Because he knew what was out there.” Men like him. Mr. Kim doesn’t say that last part out loud, only thinks it to himself.

“You know, maybe this person took your dog because he or she wanted to give a gift to his or her kid or little sibling, but couldn’t afford one. My brother used to buy me things all the time and, when he couldn’t afford it, he stole it for me.”

“What kinds of gifts?”

“Anything. Everything. I told you, there was nothing...” Your eyes lock with a dog as it passes by, being led by their owner on a leash.

“What is it? What else is on your mind?”

“My whole life, there's only one thing I wanted that I couldn't have.”

“Which was?”

“A pet.”

When you were seven years old, you found a puppy on your way home from school. You ran all the way home with this little ball of fur. You were so excited. And when you got to the house, your brother was the only one home. He was nineteen and was visiting during winter break. You gave him the puppy to hold while you got it some milk. You didn't have dog food, but you thought, well, a puppy's like a baby, so milk, right? You heard the puppy yelp and when you got back, your brother was in the bathroom and he turned and told you to put the milk away before it spoiled. You didn't understand. He told you that your mother didn't need the hassle of another mouth to feed and you were never to do that again. He tilted his head and you saw the puppy limp in his arms. Dead. You started crying and you could swear he looked like he was having fun. He buried it in the woods or in the backyard before your mom got home and swore you to secrecy by scaring you, telling you that you’d both get in a big heap of trouble if she found out what you guys did. Cruelty to animals is part of psychopathy. You know that now. But what you don't understand is that...

Your phone alarm or reminder goes off, breaking you from your trance and deep thoughts. You’re running late. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I hope you find your dog. Good luck.”

After meeting you, Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi are in Jonggak Station, eating vending machine food that is less than appetizing and bemoaning their lack of progress even after questioning you. And then it happens. They hear a loud clacking. They look up and see your brother, throwing down a red paper ddakji tile and slapping a man. When the man wins, your brother hands him 100,000 won. The clacking continues and your brother applauds the man when he wins again. Mr. Kim’s hand is shaking as he holds up his phone to call Gi-hun.

“We’ve found the guy. It’s him.”

“Are you sure?”

“The ddakji, slapping, and money. It’s just like you said. He’s handing over the card now.”

“Where are you?”

“Jonggak Station, but he’s leaving.”

“I’m on my way. Follow him carefully, and keep me updated on his location. Stay on him until I get there.”

“I got it. I’ll be in touch.”

Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi tail him as he buys a hundred bread rolls at a bakery and a hundred scratchers at a convenience store. They follow him down the street.

“Hey. He’s gone into Tapgol Park.”

“I’m heading there now. Do not approach him. Wait for me.”

“Okay. Hurry up.”

They follow him into Tapgol Park, pretending to read newspapers and watching as he approaches every homeless person in the park one by one.

“Excuse me, sir. Hello. You seem to be struggling, living a life with no future. I have a little gift for you today.”

“A gift? What is it?”

He holds out bread in one hand and a lottery scratcher in the other. When the homeless man tries to reach for both, he pulls his arms back and up and shakes his head. “You can only have one. Bread, or lottery. You have to choose one.” He holds them back out.

The man picks lottery. The Recruiter holds out a coin.

“Ah…you lost.” He holds out his hand. “The coin, please.”

The homeless man gives it back and the Recruiter picks up his grocery bags and briefcase and moves on to the next person. And the next person. And the next person. So on and so forth.

“Woo-seok.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s a good guy. I’m confused.”

“How come he’s not giving us one?”

“Beats me. Man, I had a lucky dream last night.”

The Recruiter stands in the middle of the park and dumps all of the leftover bread onto the ground.

“What is he doing?”

“Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?”

When the homeless man tries to grab the bread, The Recruiter stomps on it, nearly crushing the homeless man’s fingers as he squashes it beneath his shoe. He gave them all a choice between prioritizing survival by choosing the certainty of the bread, or choosing the random chance of the lottery scratcher that they were likely to lose. While he approves of the very few people who picked the bread, he has nothing but contempt for the many people who chose the lottery and continued to gamble instead of focusing on staying alive.

“I gave you a chance, and you made your choice. I’m not the one who threw these away. It’s you, ladies and gentlemen.”

He grunts as he’s more than happy to stomp on and kick the once perfectly good bread just to spite the homeless people. Unbeknownst to Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi, he was like the game players and homeless people at one point in his life, having hit rock bottom. He spent years doing all kinds of grueling work, all to pull you and himself out of the hole you were both born into. And sometimes, when he made progress, something unforeseen happened in his life to set him back. It felt as if he climbed closer and closer to the surface, just about to claw his way to freedom, to a better life, only to have more dirt shoveled into the hole, making him slip and fall deeper into it. He hates his past self. His actions in the park are an expression of self-hatred and an attempt to set himself apart from the vagrants. And then he just combs his hair back and tucks his tie back into his suit blazer like nothing happened. His social experiment complete, he gets into an orange taxi.

“Where are you? Are you coming?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“This guy is a total nutcase. He’s in a cab now. I’ll keep you updated, but hurry!”

“I got it.”

“I’ll send the address. Call when you arrive.”

“Where’s Seong?”

“He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

The Recruiter walks down an alleyway.

“Hey, we might lose him if we wait. Let’s just get him by ourselves.”

“By ourselves?”

“That’s right. Are you scared? It’s two against one. Don’t be a coward now that you’re married.”

“It’s just that something seems off with that guy. You heard what his sister said. Besides, Seong told us to wait until he gets here.”

“But what if we lose him? What if Seong doesn’t give us the money? Woo-seok, it’s a billion won!”

“You’ll give me half, right?”

“Don’t you trust me? I officiated your wedding, for God’s sake. Come on.”

They run down the alleyway, chasing after The Recruiter who leisurely strolls down the way and turns the corner like he’s going on a nice, relaxing walk and isn’t being pursued.

“Hey, you! Stop!”

“Stop! Hey, you!”

Although it’s two against one, they’re no match for The Recruiter as he subdues them both easily, knocking them out cold after a few hits with just his briefcase. He watches from the top of a building as Gi-hun runs around the alleyways below. He pulls out his phone and calls you.

You pick up within three rings. “What’s up?”

“Would you come over?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“No. I’d like to, but I can’t. I should really focus on this project I’m working on for a client. The deadline is coming up and I haven’t made as much progress as I would’ve liked to by now.”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour at most.”

“An hour is a long time when it’s the afternoon and you have a deadline like I do.”

“Come on. Please? I miss you and it’ll make me feel better to have you here so I can see your face. Don’t you miss me too?”

“Of course I miss you, but—”

“It’s important.”

“More important than my work?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Remember how you always asked me what I did for work in the summer and I was always very closed lips about it all?”

He hears you snort over the phone.

“Remember? It’s impossible to forget. You always used to say you’d tell me when I was older. A phrase which you know always upsets me. I gave up on asking after a few years. Figured you were never gonna tell me and it’d be a secret you’d take to your grave.”

“But I wasn’t lying. You deserved an explanation, and I really did want to have a conversation and explain everything to you one day when you were older. And, well…that day has come.”

“What are you saying?”

“If you still want to know what I really do for work, come over. You’ll see when you get here.”

“Okay. But just for a few minutes to an hour at most. I’m going to hold you to that. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. See you then. I love you.”

He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ to you often. He just isn’t that kind of person. So when he does say it, you know he really means it.

“I love you too. See you soon.”

Unbeknownst to you, he had hidden cameras installed in every room of your apartment or house after you moved in to keep an eye on you. After you hang up, he taps an app on his phone, switching over to the live feed of your apartment or house. He watches you. Ever since you nearly died while sleepwalking, he had to follow you around every night whenever you had an episode since you couldn’t afford treatment or medication. He was afraid you might kill someone. Or yourself. Though you’re on medication now or otherwise have taken the proper precautions and have your sleepwalking under control, he still worries. Better safe than dead.

When you arrive at his place, he welcomes you inside, taking your coat and your purse for you. He leads you upstairs. You don’t know what to make of the scene in front of you. It isn’t at all what you thought it would be. Underneath the chandelier, there are two men tied up in chairs in the middle of the room. But not just any two men. You recognize them as the men who questioned you about a missing dog earlier in the day. Now they’re both gagged with black dog bone shaped gags and blindfolded with black blindfolds. Their skin is bloodied as if your brother got physical with them. Your brother removes their blindfolds and turns on the gramophone. “Nessun Dorma” begins to play loudly. What the fuck is going on? What you’re seeing before your very eyes brings back all the memories you tried so hard to repress. Looking back and forth between your brother and the bound and gagged men, your past traumas end up knocking on your door once again. It feels like the air is being dragged out of your lungs with punches to your stomach. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control and there is nothing you can do. Seeing them bloodied like that, they look eerily similar to the boys that you dated and even the ones you didn’t. Boys that all had one thing in common: They broke your heart. Whether it was because they cheated on you, dumped you for other girls, stood you up at a school dance or on a date, or asked you out as a cruel prank. For a minute that feels like an hour, you dissociate. Your mind is thrown back into the past when you were a teenager.

~

When the sound of the door opening brought you back to your senses, you dried up your tears and put on a happy face to greet your brother, except that when his eyes met yours, he could sense something was wrong. You tried to pretend like nothing happened, you really did, but nothing ever escaped your brother’s eyes. When he arrived home with his usual attire and briefcase and saw your figure laying on the floor, close to a corner of the room and shaking your way through an episode of heartbreak and betrayal, he felt his blood boil despite his cold exterior. Underneath the impassive mask, his eyes were taking in account every detail, from your body posture to your wet eyelashes. He was a very attentive man after all, he didn’t get his job as a recruiter for nothing. Seeing you clutching to yourself as your life depended on it, desperate to relieve the emotional suffering, he couldn’t do anything else but clench his jaw, body stiffening due to the urge to protect you from any harm, be it emotional or physical.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” It was a shot, knowing you well enough to bet that your state was caused by someone else rather than yourself.

Despite showing worriness, his voice also carried danger. And you, poor thing, you were being washed away by tides of confusion and sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak up, the only sounds leaving your mouth being sobs. You wanted to crawl towards your brother but wouldn’t he think you were pathetic? In any case, you didn’t move. Upon seeing you having trouble breathing, a million things crossed his mind and yet he didn’t rush to your side. He went through his usual routine of undoing his tie and taking off his jacket. This time, however, his movements seemed slightly stiffer and more aggressive than usual. Despite not knowing what he was thinking, it was the silence that was killing you. He was a dangerous man beneath that charismatic facade and a part of you knew that. But another part of you also knew that he promised that no harm would come to you and you believed his words faithfully. How much of his words were true at that point? The uncertainty caused you to sob as uncontrollable tears escaped your eyes. You were completely shaking under the stressful emotions that took over your body. Your brother, on the other hand, picked you up from the floor and helped you walk to the couch, ignoring your tense fingers grasping and wrinkling his perfectly ironed white dress shirt.

“Who did this to you?”

You had a feeling he already knew. He made it clear to you in the past that it was pointless to hide anything from him. You didn’t answer.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he tried once again, more firmly this time.

Upon still receiving no answer, his fists clenched and unclenched as his blood boiled. It became impossible to keep his cool when you were hurt like that. Fuck, he would even kill the person who did this to you.

“Who are you protecting with your silence? Why?” he spat, voice rising as his emotions took control, but he didn’t dare yell at you. “Hm?”

You barely managed to say the boy’s name before he sat down next to you and continued to demand to know. Your brother was persistent, he would not give up until he had what he wanted. His breathing became shallow, fast, and he was rabid. So you gave him what he wanted — a name. You managed, between sobs, to whisper the name he was looking for. The name he already knew, but wanted you to corroborate. He gave you a light pat on your shoulder, content with you obliging but with fury running through his veins. Suddenly, his hand was itching and the gun inside his briefcase felt heavier than before. A hand landed on your trembling shoulder before his expression softened. He waited until you had your attention fully on him before he decided to speak up in a stern voice.

“We have two options,” he raised two fingers in front of your eyes, giving you the false sensation of choice and comfort. He took one finger down and held up his pointer finger. “Option One: I’ll take care of you at this instant and everything will go back to normal, or—” He held up a second finger so it looked like he was making a peace sign. “Option Two: I’ll find a way to make him pay. Right now. What do you say? Which one is it?”

Surprisingly, his voice soothed your nerves and you stopped crying. Still, you could only sit there, apprehensive for the outcome and having these faltering feelings for this recently discovered darker side of your brother. His temper didn’t show, but you knew from that moment on that he was capable of anything. You ended up picking Option One, too tired to take care of yourself so you let your brother do it for you. You despised violence and would much rather let things go as if nothing ever happened. You only hoped your now ex-boyfriend would be safe from harm. Your brother thought it was unbelievable how you were worried so much about the person that put you in that situation. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was going to make that stupid boy pay anyway, despite your obvious concerns. He had the means to do it and, whether you believed it or not, he would hurt or kill others for you, even if you didn’t ask him to. Later that night, he ended up helping you bathe and dressed you in more comfortable clothes before cooking you dinner - seaweed soup. When it came time to go to sleep, he placed you in bed and tucked you in. It was all just like he did when you were a kid.

“I told you to stay away from that boy.”

“I know. I’m sorry I lied to you. I shouldn’t have, but...”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And this time, I want you to answer my question and I want you to answer truthfully. What exactly happened?”

It was about time that he figured out what you were hiding.

“He…and his friends…they… At first he was so cool, he bought us all booze and cigarettes. He had a car and his own apartment. We were kinda going together for about five months. Tonight, I was at the beach with some of my and his friends. I was flirting with him, you know, a little buzzed. Then another car came driving onto the beach and there were a bunch of girls in it and…it was dark but it was still so hot outside… He asked me to grab more drinks from the extra cooler he left in his car and when I came back…she was laying in the sand topless, her swimsuit bottoms halfway down her legs while his head was…his mouth was…he was… He never cared about me. He was just using me to get closer to another girl. To make her jealous until she took him back. You were right. I should have known better, but I considered him a good friend and loving partner! He…he shared his food with me.”

Out on the streets of your neighborhood, starvation was one of the most common causes of death, right after death from exposure, drug use, alcohol poisoning, and murder. Sharing food was a big deal. And growing up the way you did with your brother, the only man who loved you, how could you not have seen it as an act of love? Because of your brother’s gestures of platonic and familial love with food, you were confused and misconstrued your ex-boyfriend’s similar gesture as an act of romantic love.

“You’re telling me you were secretly dating? That you snuck out and went off with your friends to meet that boy and have a party at the beach when you should’ve been at home studying or asleep in bed?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought he loved me, but he tricked me.”

“And if it was all a trick? If any of that food or those drinks had been spiked? You could have been kidnapped or hurt or assaulted.”

“I know that, too.”

“Then why did you do it? You're smarter than that.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “From now on, don't cry in front of any other man besides me. If you do, I'm going to get mad at you. They’re not worth your tears. They’re not worthy of you or your heart. Don’t give your love away so cheaply,” he said to you, wiping away your tears.

You nodded and fell asleep soon after.

While you were asleep, he quickly left you alone in the house and disappeared into the night, determined to solve the situation whether you or his superiors approved of his methods or not. Whatever happened next, he’d clean it up and take care of it. His years spent working as a pink guard meant he was good at cleaning up messes and destroying all traces of evidence. Next thing you heard was the sound of the key rattling and turning in the lock of the front door in the wee hours of the morning just before there was a soft click as it shut. Your brother was home, and you had no idea he even left.

You didn’t see your ex-boyfriend again after that. You didn’t see that girl he cheated on you with either. They didn’t show up to school the next day. They didn’t show up to school at all. They just stopped coming. But there weren’t any missing persons reports made for either of them. Some said they transferred schools. Some said they dropped out. Others said they ran off and got married. It was all rumors. Nobody knew the truth. Except for their murderer.

~

They were the first, but they weren’t the last. Whatever the offense was, your brother made every person, man or woman, wish they hadn’t hurt you. Dating and romance was difficult for you because of your brother. He’d be damned if he let history repeat itself and you ended up marrying a man he considered to be a lowlife or deadbeat like your father. But at the same time, it was as if no man was good enough for you in his eyes. Everyone else in the world apart from you and himself were pieces of trash, there were just some who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster. Every man was somehow beneath him and, by extension, beneath you. There was always something about your potential partners that caused him to disapprove. You were exasperated and it got to a point where you wondered if he was going to arrange a marriage for you. You even confronted him and asked him if that was the case, but he said no. He did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t that. Unbeknownst to you, he blackmailed or bribed every single man who was interested in you to stay away from you and never contact you again. And those he couldn’t scare away or buy off ended up dead. He wasn’t totally unreasonable. You could have male coworkers and friends. Even best friends. Of course you could. Just not male lovers. Unless you found one that met his impossible standards. Because of his weird superiority complex and classist ideologies, for the longest time, you were an adult virgin who had to use sex toys or your hands to find release. That very well might still be the case to this day. After one too many awkward dinners or gatherings where you tried to introduce your potential partner to your brother, you gave up on love and dating. You instead focused your time and energy towards your career. Just like he did. He never had a girlfriend or fell in love as far as you knew. But you had a feeling that, even if he did, he wouldn’t tell you about his love or sex life. If it wasn’t for your own life experience, you wouldn’t think he was even capable of love. Though you tried to block them out from your memory, you’d be lying if you said there weren’t times your brother frightened you.

This is one of those times.

“These men here… When you met them earlier today, though it was the first time you saw them, it wasn’t the first time they saw you.”

“What?”

“You didn’t realize, but they’d been following you. They were watching your every move, studying your routine.”

“What? Why?”

“A man hired them and a bunch of other loan sharks to find me. He offered to pay one billion won to whoever succeeded. During their investigation, they learned you were my sister.”

“How?”

“I left the information for them to find. All that time spent staking out subway stations and they still had nothing to show for their two years of work. No leads, no clues. Their incompetence was amusing at first, but I eventually grew bored of hiding from and evading them. So I gave them a nudge in the right direction.”

“You led them to me?”

He nods. “But they still didn’t know how to approach you. So they followed you and watched you for an extra week before finally making a move.”

“So their story about the missing dog…?”

“A ploy to get information about me out of you. They thought maybe you knew something about my work. Now you see I had good reason for keeping you in the dark all these years. I knew that the less you knew, the safer you’d be. But all things kept in the dark must come to light eventually. And so here we are.”

Your legs feel like they’ll buckle underneath you. You fall onto the purple couch in the room. It’s one of the only things of color in his entire house. Your tastes in home decor are completely different from his. Apart from your bedroom here, which he lets you decorate however you want because it’s your space, everything else in his house is black. Everything. The curtains, the chairs, the tables, the shelves, the clocks, the dishes, the appliances, the record players, the shower, the closets, his bed, the elevator. Even the walls are painted black and the floors are black tile or black wood. You complained that so much black was suffocating and reminded you too much of death, that it was like he lived in a funeral home. Even funeral homes had more color than this. You told him he needed a pop of color somewhere in his living space too, so he let you pick out this purple couch yourself as a sort of compromise. You put your head in your hands. A part of you can’t believe this is happening. The other part of you realizes that all of the clues about the man your brother really is underneath the facade he put up were always there, you just couldn’t or refused to see them.

“What’s going to happen now?” You ask hesitantly as you pick your head back up and look your brother in the eye.

“These men here will be very sorry. They'll wish they never involved themselves with you and that they could have done something to stop me. They'll wish things could be different. They would do anything for things to be different. So…” He puts his hands on Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim’s shoulders. “You’re going to play a game now. Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One. I trust you know the rules. You form a shape with each hand, then take one away. The game is decided by the remaining hands. Of course, there’s a penalty for the loser.” He pats them on their shoulders.

He picks up a gun. Oh, god. There’s a gun. You didn’t notice it before. How did you not notice it?

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in movies. It’s called Russian Roulette.”

“No! You can’t be serious!” But you know he is. Dead serious.

He ignores your protests. “I’ll place one bullet into a revolver and close it. I’ll point the gun at the loser’s head and pull the trigger.”

You’re so scared when he puts the gun to his own head.

“Your odds of death are 1 in 6. Your odds of survival are 5 in 6.”

You notice his finger is actually on the trigger.

“Wait, don’t—!”

He pulls it, making you flinch even though it’s a blank. The gun clicks but, as fucked up as this situation is, you’re relieved. You don’t want your brother to die. He’s the only family you have. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he blew his brains out just then.

But he whistles as if what he just did was nothing.

“Not that bad, right?”

The men look towards you, their scared eyes pleading for you to help them even though they know you can’t. You left your phone in your purse downstairs. Even if you try to make a run for it, your brother’s legs are longer and his stride is wider than yours. He’d easily catch you before you made it three steps towards the stairs leading downstairs. And then what? Would he tie you up too? You’re being held captive just like they are. You’re just the captive audience. Your eyes are just as scared and helpless as theirs even though it’s not your life on the line. You just want to apologize to them. But you know it won’t do any good.

“Please... Please, don't make me watch.”

“What?”

“You never let me see you angry, right?”

“I’m not angry, little sister. Far from it.”

“Please, don't make me watch this.”

“You don’t want to watch? But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Once this is over, I’ll tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what I do for a living. But first, I’ll show you. Give you a little taste.”

“And then what’ll happen to me? I know what happens to people who know too much.”

He laughs as if you just told a great joke. “Nothing will happen to you. These men here…they aren’t the only ones who were watching you. When you became an adult, I told my superiors you could and would keep the secret, even if you didn’t do what I do. But they had to be sure, so they watched you too.”

“For how long?”

“Years. I finally got their approval to tell you everything and I just had to bring you here to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? This is like a celebration for you?”

“Of course. This is like a ‘take your little sister to work day’ for me. You can think of it like that if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It won’t. Please, let's just leave.”

“I can’t leave just yet. These men have something I need first and one of them is going to give it to me. But not before I have my fun.”

“If you make me watch this, I will never forget it. I will never forgive you. Please, Oppa…” You hope the term of endearment will get through to him.

It doesn’t.

“Why are you acting so squeamish? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You told me you watched those horror movies I sent you and didn’t need to sleep with your nightlight afterwards.”

“I lied. I didn’t watch those movies at all.”

He sighs. “I had hoped you’d get over your strong aversion to blood and violence as you got older, but I see you still haven’t.”

“You don't have to do this to prove a point, Oppa.”

“Oh, but I do. I’m not just proving a point. I’m doing this for your benefit. Even at your age, blood and death still makes you physically ill. It’s my fault. I coddled you just the right amount when you were little, but I did it too much when you were older. I didn’t do enough to desensitize you from those things, and I need to fix that. Rape, assault, fraud, arson, murder... Why do you think these crimes are punishable by law? Why is it that they are prohibited by law?”

You don’t answer.

“That's because they are part of human nature. Left to our own devices, humans will rapе, steal, and kill each other. That's just who we really are. But there are no laws in this room. Isn't it a waste to not do any of those things? Such human nature empowers us!”

You curl forward like a shrimp and put your head to your knees. You feel as if you’re on the verge of vomiting.

He tsks at you. “Stop fucking around. You’re younger and smaller than me, but you’re tough. I know you are. The fun is just beginning.” He grabs a waste basket and puts it down next to your feet. “Fine. If you really can’t stomach this, then pull your hair back and vomit into this.”

“I don't want to stay.”

“Oh, now you don’t want to see what I do for work? Too late and too bad. You’re staying. Consider it tough love.” He turns to Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi. “All right. Now, let’s play. On my count. Rock, paper, scissors.”

While Mr. Kim follows the rules and forms a rock and scissors with his hands, Mr. Choi’s hands are shaking too violently. He doesn’t make any shapes.

“You didn’t play. You broke the rules for the first round. Disqualified.” He points the gun at Mr. Choi’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

You flinch.

He spins the cylinder. “Now, let’s play again. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one.” He points the gun at Mr. Kim’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

You flinch again. You hate this. You can’t watch but you can’t look away either.

Your brother pulls out a handkerchief and dabs the sweat off of Mr. Kim’s forehead. “Don’t be so nervous. Like I said, your odds of survival are 5 in 6. Let’s play again.” He spins the cylinder. “Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one.” He points the gun at Mr. Choi’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

God, it doesn’t matter what the odds are. You flinch every time.

“It’s getting a little boring, isn’t it?”

Oh, God. Your entire body is filled with even more dread, if such a thing is possible. So much that it threatens to overwhelm you.

Your brother puts more bullets into the cylinder. “Let’s reverse the odds now, shall we? Your odds of survival are now 1 in 6. Your odds of death are 5 in 6.” He spins the cylinder. “All right, let’s play again. Let’s speed it up, okay? Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors!”

It all goes by so fast. Too fast. Your head is swimming and spinning at the same time from the whiplash of looking back and forth between the three of them, your eyes darting all over the place and not knowing where to keep focus.

He pauses for dramatic effect, letting the suspense linger painfully. And then… “Minus one. Too bad. You didn’t take one away. Disqualified.”

The opera music crescendos and climaxes as he points the gun at Mr. Kim’s head and pulls the trigger. You flinch and cry out at the loud gunshot. Mr. Kim’s blood splatters on your brother’s cheek, but he’s unfazed and only admires his work. The music stops. You can’t hold it in anymore and vomit into the waste basket.

You feel like you just spent an eternity in an unbearable hell where your brother played God or The Devil. Time moved so slowly, to a crawl. In reality, it was no longer than five minutes.

“Congratulations on your win. Now, can we have a talk?” He looks at Mr. Choi and then back at you from over his shoulder.

You lift your head from the waste basket and look up at him. You know that once he’s done talking to Mr. Choi, you’re in for a talk too. While you look at his face, really look at it for the first time while his mask is completely off and you stare deeply into his eyes, your brain doesn’t even have room to be shocked or traumatized by what you see. A part of you always knew, didn’t you? You knew how tired your brother was. You knew how exhausting his life is. You watched him live it. You watched him fight it. And you saw the man he was becoming, saw the man he really was underneath the facade and you did nothing. Because you loved him. Because he was all you had in the world. You saw how desperately he wanted to be different. You watched him try so hard to be a good brother and, in many ways, he was. But in the end, he just couldn't stop the other thing.

After sweating him for a few minutes, he gets what he wants out of Mr. Choi and knocks him out again. You and your brother are alone.

“Now that that’s taken care of, I believe you and I have a pressing matter to discuss. But let’s do it over a hot, home cooked meal. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh.

When you make no attempt to move, he grabs your arm and helps you up. You and he go downstairs together and he pulls out your chair for you, helping you sit down at the dinner table before he pushes your chair back in. You sit there silently and watch him as he takes off his suit blazer, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, and puts on plastic gloves to make seaweed soup. Prep time for seaweed soup is ten minutes. While his back is turned, you see your purse hanging by the door. You debate making a run for it. You move your legs to the side. Your chair squeaks from under your shifting weight. Damn it.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Your brother says without even turning around or looking up from what he’s doing at the stove.

You freeze and stay seated, painfully listening to the wall clock tick. There’s nothing else you can do. Cooking time for seaweed soup is thirty-five minutes. Additional time is usually around five minutes.

He sits across from you at the dinner table and serves the food when it’s done. While his appetite is larger than ever after killing a man, yours is completely gone. He notices you playing with your soup instead of actually eating it.

“You should eat.” He taps your bowl with his spoon.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should be. You just emptied your stomach a few minutes ago. Don’t worry. This is just the start of your desensitization training. Whether you witness it or commit it, the first murder is the hardest.”

“The first? There’s gonna be more?”

He nods. “Being surrounded by death is hard at first, but it will get easier with time. Now eat. I made it with higher quality meat and seaweed, so it should taste even better than what we used to eat as kids.”

You reluctantly take a couple bites. It does taste a lot better than you remember. But you don’t have it in you to savor the taste. Your brother eats with relish. You eat with obligation.

“You know, people who grew up by the seaside cook this soup with rockfish, not beef. Once you’ve had it that way, its memory follows you all the way to the city. You can’t replicate that childhood taste, no matter how hard you try. But some are beaten for not getting it right.”

You swallow nervously. You know he’s talking about himself and your mother, how your father used to beat him and her for nothing and anything.

“Before you were born, we always had seaweed soup at home. At first, I thought it was because Dad liked it. I only found out later that Mom had never gotten it after giving birth to me. Mom never had a mom, and that haunted her throughout her life. The day she was beaten by Dad and taken to the hospital with chipped teeth… I saw her cook seaweed soup and eat it in the kitchen in the dark. To think he did that to her… All over something like seaweed soup. Every time she was hurting, and every time she was beaten, maybe she thought it would heal her, or maybe she believed her fate was sealed because…because no one had ever made her that soup. To me, seaweed soup is a reminder of death.”

You freeze, your spoon halfway to your lips. You lower it and stare at your bowl of seaweed soup. After your father was presumed dead and the police came with the custody papers for you, he made you seaweed soup. The night you went to the beach, after you told him your boyfriend cheated on you, he made seaweed soup for dinner. In that moment, it finally and suddenly clicks for you that your father didn’t die in a vehicular accident. Your ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on you with didn’t transfer, didn’t drop out, didn’t run away and get married. They were murdered. By your brother. And those are only the ones you know about. How many others had he directly or indirectly killed? A pit forms in your stomach at the question you don’t dare to ask. Even if he knows the answer, you don’t want to know.

He looks at the time. “You should head home now.”

“What? Are you seriously kicking me out?! You promised me that you’d give me an explanation! That you’d tell me everything!”

“I did. But it’s been an hour.”

“So?”

“When I called, I told you it’d be no more than an hour. You said you’d hold me to it. So you should go home and work on that project of yours. I’ll explain another time.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he smiles at you. “I know what you’re doing. Stop it. Forget what I said. You were right. This is more important.”

“Are you absolutely sure you want to know? Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“And satisfaction brought it back. We’ve passed the point of no return. You might as well tell me everything. Now. Stop playing games.”

“Oh, but I can’t. Playing games is my job.”

Your seaweed soup grows cold as he takes his time to tell you everything and answer your questions. He’s a recruiter for something called the Squid Games. Children’s games with a deadly twist where elimination means death. He finds and lures in desperate people who are drowning in debt so deep there is no chance to come up for air with a game of Ddjaki and the tantalizing offer of 100,000 won for every time they win. But for every time he won, he’d slap them instead. That was just one of many tactics he employed. Before he was a recruiter, he was a guard. He killed players and burned their bodies. He directly and indirectly killed a lot of people before you were a teenager, including your own father. You wish you could shed tears for your old man, but you can’t. Your father was horrible to you both. Your brother once told you...the best day of your lives was the day your father went missing and was presumed dead, because his abuse finally stopped and you would be happier and better off now that it was just the two of you. But did he deserve the fate he was dealt? You don’t know about that.

What you do know is your brother is a sadistic killer who gets his kicks from other people’s misery, misfortune, pain, desperation, and fear. And that could very well include your own now. But despite everything that’s happened…you still don’t hate him. You don't hate him. You don't. You try, but you just don't. No matter what else he is, he's your brother. Now, you're not responsible for the things he did in the past or the things he’ll do in the future. But you can't change the fact that to you...he’s still your brother. Your brother who played with you, fed you, comforted you when you cried, took you shopping, and tied your shoelaces. Your brother who helped you through the awkwardness of your first menstrual cycle because your mom was already dead and couldn’t do it herself and bought you everything you needed including chocolate, a heating pad, tampons, and pads, and showed you how to use them. Your brother who bought you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and stood up and clapped loudly when it was your turn to walk on stage and accept your diploma or degree for your high school and college graduations. Your brother who told you how proud he was of you and how proud your mom would be for graduating college with flying colors. But you just feel like he's winning if you don't hate him. But there’s no real winning, is there? There's just...living. Moving forward. And if you keep doing that... You'll be all right. Is that true? It is for you. It has to be. You’ll never get to apologize to any of the victims. Nor the families of the men and women your brother directly and indirectly killed in the past and will kill in the future. If only you could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way... But it wouldn’t be good enough.

After taking your and his dishes away, your brother rolls down his sleeves and puts his suit jacket back on, buttoning it. He tells you he’ll clean up his mess upstairs when he gets back but, for now, he’s going to play another game of Russian Roulette, but with a twist: To make the game appear a little more serious, he and Gi-hun will each take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. He’s thought of every possible outcome so that, no matter what happens, he’ll make it out alive and return to you. His suit is already rigged with piping filled with fake blood and he has a fake bullet that’s painted to look real to the naked and untrained eye. He can quickly swap out the real bullet for the fake one without Gi-hun noticing by using sleight of hand if the bullet comes up on his turn. In his line of work, it isn’t enough to be just one step ahead. He has to be at least five steps ahead of the other person he sees as an opponent. No matter what happens, whether or not he has to fake his death, he’ll get up and walk away. He’ll have to go back into hiding for a while. It’s up to you whether or not you come with him.

He goes off to face Gi-hun, taking Mr. Choi’s tied up and unconscious body and Mr. Kim’s corpse with him. He’s going to stage the former in a hotel room and dispose of the latter. He leaves you alone in his place to mull over his offer. You can’t leave even if you want to because he’s taken your purse and locked all the doors and windows that only he has the keys or knows the passcodes to since he changed them all. There are bars on the windows or the glass is so thick they’re practically impenetrable and there’s nothing you can break them with. There’s no landline phone or internet connection. You’re trapped until he gets back. You have a choice to make now. Go back to your old life and carry on as normal, or join the games as a recruiter. As a recruiter, you won’t have to see any violence or bloodshed like you would if you were a guard. You’ll just have to lure players in. Like fishing. But if you go into the field, he will be responsible for you in the beginning until you get your bearings and then you’ll be responsible for yourself. Though you’ll work together or independently, you will still be a team working under the same people and towards the same goal. Either way, you have to keep the secret if you want to stay alive. If you try to snitch, he can’t protect you then and you’d only succeed in getting yourself killed. You don’t know what to do. Stay in your old life or go into a new one. By making this irreversible choice, you will carry the burden of knowledge and alter the course of your entire future no matter what you decide.

[theredviper]

SYLUS "THE RELENTLESS CONQUEROR"

— Love & Deepspace (2023), dev. InFold [x]

[eatfishies]

Intoxicated By Your Sweet Taste 🔞

summary: Zayne thinks he hasn’t given you much attention due to his work.

or

Pussy drunk! Zayne can’t get enough of you.

word count: 2k tags: NSFW, zayne x reader (afab), no plot just filth, oral sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, clit play, swearing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, coming multiple times, domestic fluff at the end, pet names, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship fish notes: as always, pls heed the tags ~ nevertheless, this fic was inspired by this twt here ! hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

It was past midnight when the door creaked open, revealing a tired looking Zayne. She was already in bed, snuggled up with the plushies her dear lover got for her. Zayne smiled at the sight before striding towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

That action caused her to stir, fluttering her eyes open to look at her partner. “You’re back.” She mumbled sleepily.

Zayne gently stroked her hair, lulling her back to sleep. “Go back to sleep, love.” He said as he continued to play with her hair.

“I’ll only sleep if you do too.” She replied, which earned her a small smile from Zayne.

Once he had finished showering, she couldn’t help but marvel at his chiseled chest, glistening with droplets of water, running down ever so slowly. She tore her eyes away, feeling a little bit flushed.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her observant lover though as Zayne pointed out, “Weren’t you half awake earlier? It seems like you’ve got your attention elsewhere now.”

She didn’t even bother to attempt and deflate herself because it’s true. She is enjoying this view very much.

Just like that, she hoisted herself up and had her eyes solely on him. Desire and lust coursing through her veins. “Yeah… you’re not wrong. It’s because you’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

A chuckle rumbled out of Zayne, a little surprised by her bold declaration, considering how sleepy she was earlier. “Ah, so that’s what caught your attention?”

Before she could even reply, Zayne is already making his way to the bed. Her eyes widened slightly as he pushed her down gently, making her gaze up at him.

“Have I neglected my darling? Am I not pleasuring you enough?” He spoke as his face inched closer. She felt her breath hitched in her throat as the pit of her stomach coiled with pure lust.

The words she wanted to say were caught up, speechless by the sudden mood change. She bit her lip, “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Thick, strong fingers found its way to cup her face, “Then I shall take it upon myself to satisfy you until all your needs are met.” Without any hesitation, Zayne closed the distance between them and passionately kissed her.

She gasped as his other hand went to grab her hips, keeping her firmly in place as his tongue explored her mouth. Every ounce of sleepiness she had in her quickly vanished, instantly replaced by a primal hunger for him. She needs, no, she yearned to be one with him. To feel him in every way possible.

“Don’t… hold back.” He murmured in between her lips before he moved to trail kisses down on her neck, eliciting moans and whimpers. She closed her eyes shut, taking in the pleasure she’s receiving as he continued to suck and bite on her neck, leaving behind marks.

It was just a pure coincidence that she decided to wear a nightgown but she’s thankful nevertheless since it gave Zayne easy access to slip his hand up and caress her soft skin, feeling her up. She can feel her pussy growing needier and wetter with each touch he makes.

She sucked in a deep breath when his fingers began to rub against her slick, “Someone’s excited.” Zayne remarked as he suddenly pulled his fingers away and moved down to crouch in between her legs.

Instinctively, she spread wide open, staring down at him. “So wet for me… you really want this, hm?” She nodded eagerly, “Please… I need it.”

The once impassive doctor morphed into something else entirely. His expression held a plethora of emotions behind them as he felt his own hardness beneath his towel. “Very well. Scream for me princess.”

Any sort of thoughts she conjured up turned into nothing the moment Zayne licked her drooling pussy. His tongue expertly flicked her clit as she laid back down on the bed and writhed in intense pleasure.

“F- fuck! Zayne… hghh!” She moaned out as Zayne lapped at her needy cunt, savoring all of her wetness, wanting to taste all of her.

Her hands immediately tugged onto his hair, pulling him closer to her crotch as she screamed out his name repeatedly. It was too good that she could barely keep still, Zayne held onto her thighs to stop her from squirming.

The familiar pit in her stomach intensified, itching her closer to release. “Hahh…! Z- Zayne! I’m close, I’m so close!” She whined out, to which he kept tonguing her entrance vigorously until she arched her back and came all over his face.

Zayne pulled away slightly and licked his lips. There are traces of pussy juice on his mouth but he didn’t care. Not when his precious sweetheart tastes so divine. Before she could even beg him to put his hard shaft inside her, she gasped once she felt Zayne’s tongue on her folds again.

“W- wait! I… I just came!” She exclaimed, feeling like her legs were gonna give out from pleasure. But Zayne paid no mind as he resumed his ministrations on her sopping wet cunt. Even after orgasming, her pussy still throbbed for more.

At this point, she’s pretty sure she’s on cloud nine, especially when Zayne sucked on her nub, making her tremble. Green eyes observing her movements, watching as she moans and whimpers. Looking beautiful like this, Zayne wanted to keep this memory etched into his mind forever.

It was unbearable, she tried to push him away but he kept a strong grip on her legs, his tongue relentlessly flicking her eager pussy, swallowing all of her juices. He can feel himself getting intoxicated by her dripping cunt. There is nothing more rewarding than coming home everyday and getting to lap at her entrance like a starved man whilst also relishing her delightful sounds.

“C- coming!” Her hands scrambled for purchase as she came undone. Zayne lifted his head and spoke in a raspy voice, “Did you feel good, honey?”

There was no single coherent thought in her mind right now. She couldn’t even think properly, it’s all a muddled mess, too foggy with pleasure. Sensing her pliant demeanor, Zayne moved to her side, brushing off the strands of her hair from her face.

“You’re so good for me, dear.” Was the only thing she heard before Zayne trailed his fingers down to caress her inner thighs, igniting goosebumps all over. She weakly muttered, “What are you doing?” Instead of responding, Zayne leaned down and pecked her lips. “Are you a good girl for me?”

His finger easily slipped in her gaping pussy, thrusting it in and out, earning a mewl from her. She bit her lips, “T- too sensitive... Zayne…” She clutched onto his arm, looking at him with glassy eyes.

“I said, are you a good girl?” Zayne repeated his question but this time, he inserted another finger in, taking away all of her last resolve.

“Mhmm… ah! Yes! Yes!” That further drove Zayne to keep plunging his fingers deep inside her gummy walls.

It has been hours since Zayne has been pushing her far off into her limits. Sleep be damned as he is now lapping up at her loose, dripping cunt. She could only let out soft mewls and moans whenever he skillfully buried his head in between her thighs. No amount of protest could get him to stop. It’s like Zayne has been possessed by an insatiable lust demon or some sort, at least that’s what she thought.

Tears stained her cheeks as she stared at Zayne who was lazily eating her out. “Zayne… please…”

He gave her pussy one last lick before meeting her teary gaze, “Please what?”

“Please… fuck me…” She pleaded, her hands reaching out to pull him on top of her. “You’ve been torturing my pussy non-stop… I want to make you feel good too.”

“Ah, I see. So, my needy princess wants it that bad?” He spoke as he discarded his towel. It’s kind of amazing at how he managed to hold back his desire to mount her completely, especially since she looked ravishing like this. Blissed out and glowing from the amount of orgasm she lets out.

She nodded eagerly, “Give it to me, please? I’ve been so good.” To emphasize, she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to close the gap between them and feel his body against hers.

“I guess someone deserves it, after all.” With ease, Zayne lined his cock on her entrance, sliding it in and immediately began to thrust.

While their love-making session was always tender, albeit sometimes a bit passionate, it was never really like this. Intense and unrelenting with vigor as Zayne continued to pound into her deep. Her cunt spasming and clenching tightly around his cock. “Fuck… you feel so wonderful around me, sweetheart.”

Even if she wanted to say something, each thrust made her eyes roll back. Her mind is running into an overdrive as Zayne picks up his pace, unfaltering and burning with the need to come inside her.

Noticing Zayne’s furrowed brows and his eyes closed shut, “Come for me. Come inside me, baby. Want you to breed me.” She spoke, her voice laced with urgency and desperation.

At last, Zayne thrusted inside her hard before stilling, heaving and burying his face in her neck. She smiled at him dazedly as she cards her fingers through his hair. When Zayne pulled out, he watched in fascination at how her cunt drooled with cum. The sight alone made him want to ravage her right then and there, but he knew, they both had to sleep.

So, instead, Zayne helped clean her up and cuddled her as they both drifted off to slumber.

Something was wet… and there were sounds of shuffling. When she woke up, her eyes widened as she saw Zayne languidly circling her clit with his tongue. “H- huh?” She uttered out, confused and yet, Zayne only mumbled out, “Lay back. Let me please you once more before I leave for work.”

How could she refuse when her lover had asked so sweetly? She did as he instructed and laid back down on the soft bed, letting him spread her wide open. At this point, she had lost track of how many times she came, especially from last night.

This time, Zayne made sure to take his time, flicking her folds ever so slowly. One part of her felt like he was torturing her but another part of her couldn’t help but preened at how good it feels when he’s savoring her like this.

The morning sun casted a soft glow around the room, making this even more enjoyable as she focused on Zayne, tasting every drop her cunt oozed, not letting any of it go to waste. The slurping sound reverberated across the walls as she flushed.

Despite coming so many times, the familiar pit in her stomach still lingered, coiling and intensifying as she neared her climax. “Hghh… Zayne… baby, I’m so close.” She meekly mewled out, her legs shaking. Zayne sucked on her nub and sneakily thrusted a finger into her cunt, scissoring her whilst he ate her out.

Just like that, it was enough to drive her to the edge. She came, hard on his face. Her vision blurs and she shuts her eyes closed, letting the euphoria wash over her.

She faintly heard Zayne uttering a soft, “I love you” to her before getting up and tucking her in bed.

The second time she woke up, she found that Zayne had already left for work. She groggily got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. There, she found a plate of breakfast ready made for her and a bouquet of flowers.

Her body was sore all over but this gesture made it all worth it. Smiling, she walked up to the table and picked up the bouquet, smelling the flowers before sitting down and stuffing the food, the tiredness fading away and was replaced by hunger.

Luckily for her, she had a day off today and was able to cozy up at home until Zayne comes back. He gave her a fond smile as he placed the bag on the coffee table, “I got you macarons from the cafe. What do you feel like having for dinner? Let me cook for you.”

Safe to say, she is indeed a lucky girl to be able to love and be with Zayne.

[afterglowsainz]

eternal sunshine | charles leclerc

summary: you and charles decide to fake date to get back at your exes

fc: ariana grande

a/n: a bit late (mostly because i didn’t had any time nor inspiration) but finally here it is, a fic about THE 2024 monaco grand prix winner

—

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

f1.wags charles leclerc posted a statement earlier today confirming the end of his relationship with his girlfriend

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ynupdates it’s confirmed that y/n y/l/n and her boyfriend have broken up after fours years of dating

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deuxmoi actor jacob elordi and actress charlotte berzatto have been spotted recently on different occasions going out on dates

tagged jacobelordi, charlotteberzatto

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username charles leclerc’s ex girlfriend

username wait wasn’t he dating y/n y/l/n like two weeks ago? i’m confused

username girl they broke up where you’ve been 😭

username yeah but they broke up like five minutes ago this seems…

username i did not expect that

username not them breaking up with their partners to get together 😭

liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername new things coming soon who’s happy🫧💐

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username OMG WE’RE GETTING A NEW ALBUM

username you actually just cured my depression with this post

username mother has that post breakup glow

username we love to see it

lilymhe gorgeous! 💕

yourusername lilyyy💘

username the flowers???

username who send them!!!

username jacob elordi count your days

username charles in the likes?? 😭

username they’re friends chill

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc happy times 😁

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username pookie came back! 🫶🏽

username now what is charles doing in a music studio 🤨🤨

username he’s so hot just ughhh

username is that… y/n’s dog… ???

username nah

username now that you mention it i think it could be but idk 😭

username he’s so boyfriend coded

username y/n in the likes 👀👀👀👀

username this just keeps getting messier and messier😭

liked by bffusername, francisca.cgomes and others

ynupdates y/n has been seen recently on multiple dates with formula 1 driver charles leclerc

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username ma’am???

username well this took a turn

username are they actually dating or…

username i meaaan look at that third and last pic and ask again

username the lore on this four people is just endless fr 😭

username they’re so real for swapping partners just like that

username literally blink and you miss it

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others

yourusername my new single ‘don’t wanna break up again’ is out now for all of you💘 i also sing it for the first time ever on snl tonight if you’re interested in that🫶🏽

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username YES NEW MUSIC FROM MOTHER

username this song ATE

username the queen is back i used to pray for times like this😭

lilymhe such a gooood song💓 (liked by yourusername)

username so you’re telling me THAT man used to turn up the volume of the tv to not hear her cry??? yeah he’s DONE

username i literally heard that and had to pause for a second because what???

username also her calling their relationship of four years a “situationship” 😭😭

username she’s so unserious i love her

charles_leclerc on repeat 24/7 ❤️‍🩹

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

francisca.cgomes completely obsessed!💖 (liked by yourusername)

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others

scuderiaferrari such a pleasure to have yourusername on the garage this weekend! 🫧

tagged yourusername, charles_leclerc

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username she looks stunning 🤩

username the pic with charles omg they’re so cute🥰🥰

username y/n in the paddock every race week please and thank you

yourusername tysm! forza ferrari❤️

username babes what other words in italian did charles taught you? i need to know

username dare i say new ferrari it couple?

username the fact that they haven’t confirmed anything 😭

username i mean you don’t really have to be a genius just a bit of common sense

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and others

charles_leclerc keep the podiums coming🏆🐎

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username il predestinato does it again 😮‍💨😮‍💨

username let’s go charles 💪🏽

username yesss charles show y/n what you can do‼️

carlossainz55 nice race!👊🏽

username very well deserved podium, such a nice race charles❤️❤️

username the fact that he was looking for y/n the whole time he was on the podium 😭

username I KNEW I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED

username no cause bro was looking everyone and once he clocked her the biggest smile on his face

yourusername congratulations! ❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by arthur_leclerc, joris_trouche and others

f1.wags if there was doubt before there definitely isn’t anymore! charles leclerc and singer y/n y/l/n were spotted kissing at the after party of this weekend’s grand prix and leaving together

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username THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE

username don’t know if i wanna be charles or y/n to be honest

username joris and arthur liking this 😭😭

username i love that they’re together they just fit

username agree, a bit unexpected since their exes are also dating each other but still, they’re very cute💕

username okay i wasn’t a fan of y/n but i’m definitely gonna start listening to her now

username does this mean we’re getting happy songs from y/n about charles?

username omg girl I HOPE

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others

yourusername eternal sunshine (the song) is out right now with the very special appearance of charles_leclerc in the music video (❤️) and eternal sunshine (the album) is out next friday! 💕

tagged charles_leclerc

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username i’m so so proud of y/n this song is perfect! can’t wait for the album 🤍

username this is the first time she’s featured a boyfriend in a music video and i’m so down for it🥰

username they’re look cute together!

username them on the bts of the video 💞💞💞

lilymhe you’re perfect and this song is everything🤍

yourusername love love love you lils 💘

username who would’ve thought mr charles leclerc can ACT!

username “hope you feel alright when you’re in her” i gasped

username no because that took me by surprise

username okay but we got “i got a good boy and he’s on my side” so it brought me back hope

charles_leclerc so proud of you, mon coeur❤️

yourusername i love you charlie❤️

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc so so so proud of you my love❤️ this is the most amazing project ever and the fact that i was able to participate in any way brings me so much joy. you’re a musical genius and an incredible human being🤍 stream eternal sunshine☀️

tagged yourusername

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username if you look closely you can see me in the background crying

username this is- they’re so- i’m- 😭

username no but they’re so perfect for each other i could cry

pierregasly who would’ve thought you could act 🤣

carlossainz55 new skill for the cv 😂

username “a musical genius and an incredible human being” charles leclerc why don’t you just rip my heart out yourself

username she looks so pretty in the mv and they’re so good together💞 i’m so happy for them

username no longer a child of divorce THESE are my real parents🫶🏽

yourusername i love you and i’m very very proud of you too❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc mon amour you’re everything 🤍

[snghnlvr]

don’t test me. / park sunghoon

౨ৎ ## i've never felt this before, i can't hide it, my head is spinning, crazy park sunghoon x fem reader!

synopsis: your test on your best friend decided to have your friendship to the next level.

includes: 3.4k words | childhood friends to lovers | inspo was actually the song brought the heat back because they’re all delusional, like look at the lyrics — actually | lyrics mentioned x2 !! | sunghoon is a hopeless romantic | both of them are bold with their actions el oh el.. | oh taesan BND mention ^3^ | ever after high mentioned !!

extra: actually am back from the dead i’m very sorry LOL | the whole romance: untold album gave me me inspiration to write this.. | hot girl activities of being an enhypen stan <3 | ALSO am redoing my tag list since i’m back after a hot minute, lmk if u wanna be apart of it <3 | love u chiptole pls sponsor me <3

likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

what are we doing here at the mall?” sunghoon stares ahead, seeing multiple clothing stores. he sees groups of girls going in and out of them while holding multiple shoppings bags. he sighs, already depicting himself holding bags for you as you go shopping.

“prom shopping, duh.” you proudly stated. your eyes brighten while eyeing each attractive store. 

“what’s the point of going to prom when you don’t have a date?” immediately your mood shut down as sunghoon slammed fact at your face while maintaining his blank stare. he was right, you don’t have a date, like an actual date. your last minute plan was to go with your childhood neighborhood best friend, platonically because disappointingly all of the hot guys in your school got dates. 

“you’re literally my date sunghoon.” you rolled your eyes and looked at sunghoon who seemed to have reddish cheeks. he looked away before you can turn to him, blocking his red cheeks from being seen.

you snickered, knowing that he is embarrassed since sunghoon doesn’t have a date either from his school. well, he rejected all of them. but that confused you more, he rejected all of the girls that asked him out but he didn’t mind going to your prom as your date. you don’t care now because you have a purpose to go prom-dressing.

“ooh windsor seems cute~” you skipped towards the store that caught your eye first. “woah..” your eyes sparkled at the glitterly lavender dress that has a slit on the right side of the leg and have gems around the chest area. this was your dream ever since you were little, going prom dressing and imagining yourself wearing your favorite dresses with your prince charming. 

but it had to be with sunghoon — nothing wrong with sunghoon but he was someone you didn’t expect for him to say yes.

i mean, both of you pinky promised ever since babies that you two would marry each other if both of you stayed single. you wondered if he remembers the same thing.

sunghoon stayed at the corner of the store, eyeing your excited self while scanning the various dresses in front of you as he held your bag after volunteering. he wonders what type of dresses you prefer.

he imagines you in some of the dresses he eyes wander on.

you insisted to keep your bag onto you but he persisted until you give up. his excuse was to “roam freely” — you dead looked at him in the eye replying that it’s bullshit.

you didn’t want to argue with him any further first thing you entered the mall so you let him deal with whatever.   

sunghoon doesn’t know what made him possessed to say yes to you when he received your text. he didn't even pay for prom, he was uninterested, but the thought of going with you - as his date, didn't seem too bad.

he remembered himself blushing crazy when he abruptly received your text message when he was hanging out with his friends. sunghoon took a pause in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his screen with wide eyes. he slowly turned around and started running towards home, abandoning his startled, questioned friends. they heard silence except his shoes hitting the concrete floor.

two hours later, he replied with “sure” to remain nonclatant but little did you know his face was a blushing mess, feet in cold sweat to the fact he had to wear socks in bed, and his heart rapidly beating to the point he had high blood pressure. his mind was occupied onto you as he stared at your bedroom from across his window, wondering what you’re up to.

his parents were so confused as to why their son was acting this way. he was on cloud 9 when you asked him out but felt a bit sad when you mentioned to go together with plantonic feelings. 

you walked towards sunghoon with shrugged shoulders and a frown that made sunghoon be concered of your expression. “what happened?” sunghoon looked down at you, uttering a deep tone to indicate his concern. he was still seeing your pouty lips and your eyes being tight. “none of them are what i am looking for.”

maybe you’re acting like a spoiled child who cannot find their favorite toy but you believed that prom was the most important event in your life. you wanted to find your perfect dress.

then you opened your eyes, being face to face to sunghoon’s chest which made you feel uneasy at the unfamiliar appearance.

you then realized how close you are with sunghoon so you took a step back.

you sighed, looking up at sunghoon. “it’s fine we have multiple stores.” your motivated smile made sunghoon chuckle.

you left the store, then sunghoon behind you.

“that green looks like a swamp.” “that’s too glittery.” “too long.” “i look like a child of divorce with this dress!”

“i guess you’re picky.” sunghoon teased, ruffling your hair as he followed you exiting the last store. you still had an unsatisfied expression.

you didn’t react to his gesture since it was normal between the two of you. you didn’t mind sunghoon messing up your hair.

sunghoon felt bad and fixed your hair carefully, eyeing each strand of hair being back in the right place originally.

you looked from left to right onto where to explore, slightly giving up but not fully. you wanted to go home already and swallow yourself in your favorite blanket, blasting the AC on high volume while watching ever after high.

countless attempts of finding the right dress for you was too difficult. you’re starting to understand why people buy their dresses months before, you believe that the good batch of dresses were already brought before and you started to panic if you can even find one. 

“there’s nothing wrong with being picky..” you murmured, walking around in hopes another store caught your eye. “of course,” sunghoon responded. he continued. “you should keep your standards high, never settle for less.” you lightly scoffed, turning your head towards sunghoon with a mischevious expression. “is that why you’re still single?” 

you’ve always been curious of sunghoon’s standards are since he remains single throughout your high school years. middle school doesn’t count. his last relationship was a fail because he lost feelings for the girl.

yes, you admit he is shamelessly handsome and he knows that but have a personality of a delicate cat. which makes you laugh once in a while.

you still think of sunghoon as a child in an adult body.

sunghoon seems to be taken aback of your question. he tilted his head, thinking about it. “well…i never thought about it like that. i was gonna be more busier with each year, i’m not gonna have time for relationships.” sunghoon confessed nonchantly since it wasn’t a big deal for him. you nodded, understanding where he was coming from. 

“then..have you liked anyone before?” you questioned, also curious as you eyed the store’s figuerines on display. “that’s cute..” you whispered to yourself before looking back at sunghoon with a smile, waiting expectantly.

sunghoon’s heart jumped. he shivered when he felt the cold air passing behind him, glancing at you to see if you’ve noticed but he was so grateful that you were distracted by some damn figuerines. 

he immediately looked ahead when you looked back at him, geez why can’t i answer?

“n-no.” he choked on his words. you decided to poke his holes further when you noticed how nervous he was. you can read your best friend pretty easily. “really?” you stopped walking which made him also stop. sunghoon turned to his right and he held his breath when you leaned closer to his face, eyeing him like a hawk to justify his truth. “do you like someone now?”

“yes.” he muttered, still staring at your eyes. seconds of staring at each other made your heart suddenly fluttered which was weird and out of the norm. you held in your breath when none of you pulled away yet, continuing to gaze upon each other.

you realized the position you were in, especially when sunghoon easily towered over you. you immediately back away, sunghoon now smirking at your sudden nervousness. “wonder who’s the unfortunate girl..” you gulped on your words.

“why are you single?” sunghoon asked, hands in his pockets as he started walking. you coughed, hands rubbing your tight chest. “e-erm,” you tried to find an excuse. “just like you.. i have other priorities.” you didn’t see the little frown sunghoon made at your response. you weren’t lying but at the same time you were telling the truth. dating felt like it could affect your daily routine and studies.

okay, maybe your best friend seem a bit too handsome for your liking. it’s weird. wait

“how about this store?” sunghoon pointed at a store that was near the exit. you sneaked a glance, interested by the pretty dresses on display. you decided to go. “sure let’s go.” trying to distract yourself on what happened earlier. 

now sunghoon was reflecting on himself and what happened earlier as well as he sat down, waiting for you to try on the dresses. he was frustrated, he wanted you. it has always been you, ever since both of you pinky promised as babies.

that relationship he had in middle school - yeah he thought the girl was pretty but it was only to perform a distraction to get rid of his feeling for you.

your extroverted personality intimidated him ever since growing up. he wonders what makes you fearless and mentally strong. in moments where you fell down countless from playing tag with him, you didn’t cry. oddly - you continued to play with tag despite having a bleeding knee.

but when you would see his displeased face, you would offer him a lollipop that you keep inside your book bag just for fun.

he still has the candy wrapper somewhere inside his drawers.

but you don’t know that. he wanted to know if you were feeling the same way. is it worth ruining the friendship? is there any hope to turn it into something intimate? something more? he’s craving a lot of answers. 

as you were adjusting the dress, your hands slowed down on your straps when you also questioned the same thing. then memories of you and sunghoon started replaying on your mind; where both of you were in his bed one summer night after having a bbq dinner from your parents, talking about your futures together — where the both of you have to be involved in each others’ futures; where sunghoon gives you his hoodie without any question whenever you’re cold, where you packed an extra lunchbox for sunghoon because he was craving your pork cutlets. the past, happy memories slowly transitioned to the memories where you’re now questioning your feelings on sunghoon.

where sunghoon wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him when the train was crowded with people. you felt his chin touch the top of your head. you remembered your heartbeat being in the same speed as the train was going and you were glad sunghoon couldn’t see your blush — where sunghoon offered you to sleep on his shoulder on the way home after hanging out together — where both of your hands would featherly touch each other in random times but immediately both of you let go and feel electric shocks all over the body. 

so you’re gonna put your feelings on the test.

“hoon!” you called out on his nickname. sunghoon immediately paid attention to you. “yeah y/n? what happened?” you scrunched your nose when you hear the concern on his tone. 

you huffed out a breath. “can you help me with the zipper please?” you questioned why your heart is already beating fast. you hear the footsteps coming closer to you and you swore your heart was gonna jump out of the ribcage. 

behind you, you slightly opened the curtain, to prevent not only revealing the dress to him but as well as not wanting to face sunghoon. you can feel his eyes glued onto your back.

sunghoon rolled his tongue inside his cheek, feeling unusual even though he’s childhood friends with you. he noticed your hands trying to zip up your dress.

he took a step closer to you, you shivered when you can feel his chest against your back and your breath lingering on your bare neck. you gulped at the intense silence engulfed by the both of you. 

“silly you.” he let out a slight chuckle. you can feel his slight smirk from behind you.

“just help me park.” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, hoping it’s something to ease the tension. 

“stop moving.” sunghoon hand was lightly placed on your waist which made you frozen. your eyes widened at the sudden touch. his eyes were focused on the zipper, his hands being gently so that he doesn’t hurt you. 

breathe y/n — breathe— 

shit.

you looked up from the ground to curiously see the scene with the mirror in front of you. the first thing was his figure, how his white shirt easily makes his body look good with his headphones around his neck. you can see his fluffy hair that you’re eager to touch. you see sunghoon’s tongue on the corner of his lips to indicate his concentration. your eyes slowly followed his hand, you eyed his watch — his hand on your waist. 

you suddenly wanna pass away. 

sunghoon sighed, “there.” you then immediately looked down to prevent any eye contact. goddamit y/n why are you so shy? 

“thanks.” you grabbed the curtain and shut the room in front of him, whining mentally at your shy self. you stared at yourself in front of the mirror, surprised at how red your cheeks are under the light.

sunghoon stood in front the curtain, surprised with his eyebrows furrowed but then his face relaxed into a soft smile before returning back to seat and waiting for you to reveal the dress to him.

him only. 

“so—“ he heard you through his headphones after some few minutes. you opened the curtain. “how do i do?” as sunghoon was pausing his music and taking his headphones off. you presented yourself wearing the dark red, sparkly dress, standing still and with a smile as you waited for sunghoon’s reponse. you smiled so hard, not containing your excitement that you felt while wearing the dress. it really made you feel like a princess. 

sunghoon stared at you for a couple of seconds then slowly looked down at your figure. how the dress was hugging your body, your curves were being emphasized, how it complimented your skin tone, god you were stunning. you literally looked like a goddess in front of him and he was willing to drop everything and pull you close just like earlier. sunghoon was utterly at a loss of words. his mouth wanted to spill out words but he was frozen.

what did you did do to him?

you caught him being speechless so you worried, forming a form. “i-is it not good?” you turned around to face the mirror in worry. 

but before you do it you heard him yell. “wait!” you paused. “it’s good. you look great.” your muscles relaxed after hearing sunghoon’s reassurance. you smiled, turning back around to face sunghoon. sunghoon was too shy to face you, looking away as he was gulping. 

“really great..” he coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. 

well that was good enough for you. 

“great!” you closed back the curtain to change back into your normal clothes. 

sunghoon cursed at himself mentally, hand coming to his head to massage his temples as he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. he felt like this was torture.

as you’ve already bought the dress, both of you were hungry so you guys went to the food court.

“go find a table, i’ll get us something.” you frown at sunghoon’s suggestion. “no don’t pay for me. you’ve already gone through so much, it’s right if i pay for your meal.” you find your wallet through your bag that sunghoon is still holding for you. sunghoon shook his head, shutting down the zipper making you speechless. “no need it’s fine for me.” you insisted. “sunghoon-“ you whined.

sunghoon gave you a look that made you instantly sit down. “fine.” you rolled your eyes. sunghoon smiled as you followed his words, dropping the bags on the chair next to you. what a switch up.

you eyed sunghoon’s back disappearing slowly from your vision. you smiled when he headed to your favorite fast food place.

you were on your phone while waiting for sunghoon to come back. 

“y/n?” you looked up after hearing your name being called. both of you smiled — it was your classmate, taesan. you got out from your seat to hug him as taesan hugged you back tightly. “what are you doing here?” you asked him, going back to your seat.

“i went to the park with the guys.” indicating the basketball on the chair across from you and he turned his back, which made you see the bunch of his friends ordering from a different store. “i saw you sitting by yourself, are you also with your friends?” taesan smiled at you, also wondering why you’re here. 

“mhmm,” you nodded. “prom shopping.” taesan cursed. “shit i realized i have to do the same..” you giggled at his comment as taesan panicked a bit since it’s in a week. “good luck with that.” you saluted to him. “mhm thanks.” taesan smiled at your gesture.

“okay i gotta go and find a table for these hungry monsters. i’ll see you again.” taesan ruffled your hair, before leaving your table. “hey you’re gonna mess up my hair!” you playfully said, fixing your strands. “ugh my hair..” you commented to yourself.

a few seconds later, you’re startled when a plastic bag of food was placed in front of, rather harshly. 

you turned your head towards sunghoon when he pulled a chair next you and sat next to you with a serious expression. “who was that guy?” you’re confused at sunghoon’s question. 

“what guy?” your nervousness made you forget your memory. “why are you smiling to him like that?” 

did he watch the whole scene?

sunghoon kept staring at you, still maintaining a cold look that made you shiver. yeah, that’s the look that he is pissed at you.

you realized something. “park, are you jealous?” you eyed him which made sunghoon realize what he was doing and broke eye contact, letting out a puff of air.

but you are not letting it go until you got your answer. you leaned closer to him, tilting your head so he can look at you again but he’s resisting because he didn’t want to show that side to you. “mhmm are you jealous?” you asked annoingly, making sunghoon blush. you kept teasing him. he was covering his face with his hands but you wanted to see this scene unfold on you. “am not.” he muttered, making you laugh at how grumpy his voice was. “cmon, why are you jealous? hm?” you’re entertained.

he is envious that there are other guys who can make you smile and laugh.

you smiled as your hands were touching each of his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. sunghoon was pretty strong which made you struggle. 

“don’t test me.” sunghoon shot a glare after you removed his hands from his face. you gulped at the sight in front of you. “okay i won’t, i’m sorry.”you’re still smiling.

he crossed his arms, pouting. this wasn’t the sunghoon that you grew up with and you wondered how much he has grown up — and that you two aren’t kids anymore. 

“don’t worry about taesan, he has a girl.” you laid back to your seat, unpacking your chiptole bowl that sunghoon bought. sunghoon stayed silent, eyeing you unpacking the bowl with excitement that made sunghoon instantly forgive you but now he’s too embarrassed to speak to you. 

“uhm..” both of your heads turned to see a guy on your right side. the guy saw sunghoon’s grumpy face which made him gulp and nervous on what he was gonna say as you looked at him with a smile as an act of kindness. “i-i thought you’re pretty and i would like to ask if i can have your number?” the guy looked at you with sweaty glands all over his forehead, not daring to look at sunghoon or he will run away. you widened your eyes at the sudden confession.

“oh uhm-“

your bones became frozen when you felt one of sunghoon’s arms sneak around your neck, his fingers lightly touching your waist while his other arm was leaning on the table, eyeing the guy with apissed expression. he became close, too close when you felt his cheek be pressed onto yours.

he eyed the guy annoyingly, jaw clenched and eyes piercing through his body as you were a blushing mess and your heart fluttering too much. “she has a boyfriend.” sunghoon muttered, causing you to gasp lightly at his words. the way he said, felt like he really meant it.

you saw the guy panicked and apologized, running away from both of your visions. 

“cmon park, you scared the dude.” you turned to him as he removed his arm from your shoulder, leaning back to his seat. you were feeling bad for the guy but sunghoon didn’t feel bad.

“you didn’t decline.” sunghoon shrugged, making you wanna slap his shoulder at his egotistical self.

now that you’ve realized, you didn’t. 

“i-i..” you’re at a loss of words. you swear you’re gonna die in front of sunghoon if you get a heart attack. “right..” you muttered something that was not supposed to be aloud. but you didn’t notice, trying to calm yourself down.

sunghoon leaned closer to you, eyes staring at you as you saw him smiling, causing his fangs to be present. “i wouldn’t mind.”  

you realized where this was going and he indirectly confessed to you. sunghoon tilted his head to the side, entertained to see your blushing state. “i wouldn’t mind either.” his face dropped when you repeated the same thing to him without looking at him, coughing your nervousness out. 

both of your faces relaxed, smiling at each other, relieved that the both of you felt the same way towards each other. 

“so we’re gonna marry each other now?” sunghoon spoke, maintaining a slight smirk. he loves seeing you flustered like crazy. 

you’re surprised. “you’ve remembered?” sunghoon nodded proudly, playing the ends of your hair which made your heart beat even more crazy as if it’s not at its limit right now. 

“of course i remember, it’s you.” 

[gothcsz]

imagining being javi's wife and wanting to surprise him when he gets home from work by lying on your bed naked except with some heels and stockings on and he comes into the bedroom like 😳🥵🤯🧎‍♂️

tags: f!reader, smut, lil bit of dirty talk, terms of endearment (amor, mamacita, baby), established relationship, husband!javi, no use of y/n, implied p in v sex, you're fingering yourself in front of him, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 1.9k w/c - gif cred

a/n: it's clear that i have a thing for being javi's wife (don't we all?) but also the idea of him fucking while still being half dressed in those sexy suits of his 🖤 ooh and also, margot robbie in that one scene in the wolf of wall street def inspired this 🙂‍↕️

You lay there, the cool sheets brushing against your bare skin, save for the sheer black stockings that cling to your thighs and the sleek heels adorning your feet.

The faint sound of the front door opening and closing sends a thrill of anticipation through you. You know Javier would be tired from work, his usual routine predictable: a kiss hello, then a quiet retreat to unwind. But tonight, you planned something different, something to jolt him out of his rhythm and straight into your arms—or more accurately, between your legs.

His footsteps grow louder, the soft creak of the bedroom door opening a second later. Your lips curve into a smile as his figure fills the doorway. The instant his eyes meet yours, his entire demeanor shifts.

His shoulders roll back, those soft brown eyes gleam in ardor and his lips part as if to say something, though no words come out. Instead, his hand slackens, his briefcase thudding to the floor as he takes a slow step toward you.

“Mi amor…” he murmurs hotly, shrugging his suit jacket off as he approaches the bed.

You shift further up until your back is pressed against the headboard, the slight movement causing your breasts to bounce, nipples pebbling under his sharp gaze. You see his jaw tighten, that smoldering gaze riveted to the soft curves of your body framed so perfectly by the stockings.

Javier loves this. Loves how you embrace your sensuality and femininity just for him. The little details—like the patch of curls that tease him with the promise of heaven between your thighs, make his mouth water.

"What’s all this?" His voice never fails to turn you on, smooth yet raspy, as his hands move to his tie, yanking it loose with an impatience that makes you feel like the most desired woman alive.

“I thought you’d like the surprise,” you purr, running a hand slowly over your thigh and up your side, stopping just shy of your breast. He track the movement, a faint groan slipping past his pouty lips.

Javier moves closer, his dark eyes locked on yours, his intent clear as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His hands press into the mattress as he starts crawling toward you, head tilted, lips parted and prepared to dive headfirst into the sweetness of your cunt, the very thought written all over his flushed, eager face.

But you stop him. The sharp tap of your shoe against his forehead halts him mid-motion. He freezes, his eyes darting up to yours in confusion before narrowing with a frown. He exhales sharply, the sound almost petulant.

“I’d like to enjoy my surprise.”

You tut softly, shaking your head with a playful smirk. “Do you deserve to enjoy your surprise?” you muse, cocking a brow as you extend your leg, the smooth sole of your shoe nudging him back until he’s upright on his knees.

He huffs again, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a dramatic sigh. “No,” he admits, his voice gruff but obedient, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Smart boy,” you coo, your tone teasing as you pull your leg away, but not before he catches your ankle in his hand. He brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss against the fabric of your stocking.

His eyes flicker to the heels you’re wearing, lingering there for a moment too long. His cock stirs as he imagines how you’d look standing in this little ensemble—the arch of your back, the curve of your ass, the way the tops of your thighs spill over the edge of the stockings.

His jaw tightens, a faint groan escaping him. Fuck.

You notice the shift in his gaze, the flush creeping up his neck, and it makes you smile. “Eyes up here,” you hum, pulling your leg from his grasp. He rolls his eyes, but his compliance is instant. He stays put, hands resting on his thighs, his entire body taut with restraint.

Now it’s your turn to admire, letting your gaze drift lazily over him.

God, he looks good like this, all pent-up desire and buttoned-up control. His crisp work shirt clings to his chest, the faint sheen of sweat along his collarbone betraying his calm facade. You’ve always loved how he looks in his work clothes—so professional, so serious.

All business, no play, unless of course, you’re involved.

“You’re going to stay right there,” you drawl sensually, “while I play with myself for a little. Show you what I do when you leave me here, night after night, lonely and aching to feel my husband’s touch… his mouth… his cock.”

Javier growls, a sound low and primal, his hands flexing against his legs. You can see the effort it takes for him to stay in place, gripping his knees.

Every inch of him screams to pounce, to pin you down and take what you’re teasing. But he doesn’t. He waits, the intensity in his eyes burning a hole right through you.

Slowly, you spread your thighs, your fingers trailing languidly down your body as you bite your lip. The glistening heat of your pussy comes into view, swollen and throbbing with desire. Stickiness twinkles on your inner thighs, the evidence of how turned on you’ve been all day—thinking about this moment, about him.

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply. You see the appetite in his gaze, the tension as he rolls his jaw, the way his cock strains against his pants

You moan softly as the cooler air of the bedroom licks at your heated sex, your hips shifting instinctively at the sensation.

Your hands slide up to your chest, fingers teasingly kneading the soft flesh of your breasts. You rub your thumbs over your pert nipples, and a contented sigh escapes your lips, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of arousal straight to your clit. You watch him through heavy-lidded eyes, seeing the way he’s utterly entranced, like you’ve cast a spell over him.

His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven as his gaze follows your every move. He’s motionless, a predator coiled in wait, except for the way his hands flex on his thighs.

With deliberate slowness, you spread your pussy lips, exposing yourself fully. Your eyes are locked on his face, eager to drink in his reaction—and it’s everything you hoped for. His composure cracks, his brows furrowing, and his mouth twitches into a faint snarl, his restraint barely hanging by a thread.

“Mamacita, por favor,” he rasps, needy. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as if he’s already tasting you in his mind.

“Not yet,” you whisper teasingly, but your own breath is starting to hitch. Your fingers begin to trace gentle circles over your clit, and the sensation is enough to make your back arch.

You’re dripping—so slick that your fingers glide effortlessly over the swollen bundle of nerves.

Javier’s dark eyes follow every movement, the golden brown now almost entirely swallowed by black, his pupils drowning in lust.

For a moment, his gaze flickers to your hand, lingering on the way your engagement ring catches the dim light of your bedroom. The sight ignites something deeper in him, a primal kind of possessiveness that makes his cock throb painfully.

You smirk, reveling in how completely you’ve unraveled him, before bringing your slick-coated fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the rousing taste of your pussy as your eyes lock with his.

He groans low in his throat and it makes you giggle softly, the sound playful, sinful. Your spit-slick fingers trail back down to your pussy, and this time, you sink not one, not two, but three fingers inside yourself.

Your body reacts instantly, fleshy walls tightening around the intrusion, your heels digging into the plush duvet as you begin to fuck yourself.

Your head tilts back, eyes rolling as pleasure ripples through you. “Javi,” you sigh his name, breathy and wanton, and the noise alone looks like it’s about to break him.

“Feel good, baby?”

“So good,” you whimper, pressing your thumb against your clit while your free hand finds your nipple, giving it a sharp pinch that makes you gasp.

“Is this what you do when I’m not around?” he growls, the edge in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you whimper, curling your fingers inside your pussy to hit that perfect spot. “But it’s never good enough. I’m never s-satisfied.”

A slow, wolfish smirk spreads across Javier’s lips at your words, and you can feel him inching closer. As much as you want to keep teasing him, to prolong this game, the need inside you is unbearable, like your entire body is being engulfed in flames. You need him to put it out—to consume you.

His broad frame looms over you now, dark eyes gleaming with overwhelming need. His large, gun calloused hand reaches out to stroke along the edge of your stocking, right near that crevice where your thigh meets your groin, and you moan pathetically, picking up the pace of your fingers.

Despite you working yourself over in a fucking frenzy, Javi is careful, tracing the lace border where the stocking ends and your bare skin begins. Then he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“I’m so fucking hard watching you play with yourself,” he murmurs, like a secret meant only for you.

His other hand slides down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he pulls you slightly closer to him. The possessive strength in his touch sends your heart racing, and your pussy clenches hard around your fingers. “And you smell so good,” he groans, the words almost a growl as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

You push your fingers deeper, filling yourself to the knuckles, your palm grinding against your swollen clit. The friction is maddening, the pressure perfect, but it’s amplified tenfold by the heat of Javi’s body so close to yours.

His words, his presence—it’s all too much and not enough. The way he speaks to you, that bedroom voice of his, feels like his tongue is fucking your ear, making your toes curl and your hips buck.

Your body quivers under his gaze and touch, the flames inside you fanned higher with every purposeful move he makes. The tension between you crackles, thick and intoxicating, until you’re certain you’ll shatter if he doesn’t give you what you need.

Your fingers falter for a moment, desperate for him to take over, but the sharp press of his grip on your hip keeps you grounded. “Keep going,” he growls, his tone brooking no argument. “You wanted to fuck with me so go ahead, finish.”

You whimper, your body trembling as you pick up the rhythm again, working yourself harder, faster. “Javi,” you cry out, your voice trembling, your orgasm hurtling toward you like a freight train.

“Let go,” he encourages, kissing behind your ear. “Come for me, baby.”

His permission shatters what little control you had left. Your body seizes, your walls clamping down around your fingers as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you trembling and gasping beneath him.

He’s on you quickly after that, his larger frame pressing you into the mattress. His hands move your wrists, pinning them above your head with ease, the sheer strength in his grip making your core flutter all over again as he cages you beneath him.

He’s still fully dressed, the fabric of his shirt brushing against your sensitive nipples as he looms over you, his body a solid wall of heat and restraint. 

His lips curl into a wicked smirk, his hips grinding against yours, the rough material of his slacks a tormenting contrast to your naked cunt. “Gonna fuck you now,” he growls before leaning down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that steals your breath and seals your fate.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

[prozacwhorehouse]

instagram feeds - mgg x snl cast member gf ⭐️

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hey guyss so this is not the promised piece because im still working hard and hardly working BUT i am happy with this sort of trailer for concept 😌

all pictures are taken from Pinterest but collages made by me !

instagram feed concept entirely inspired by @gibson-g1rl i love your insta aus 💗💗

hope you enjoy and i cannottt wait to get the full works out xx

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️112k 💬 9k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal not a moment of peace in this office @snl

marcellohdz: who is that dashing gentleman in the first pic

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz idk I think it’s Colin Jost?

longfellow_michael: YOU are the reason there’s no peace.

❤️ by author

—> egonwodim: longfellow_michael disrespect my baby one more time. 😡

martinherlihy: Hey so I think you put the wrong selfie because I’m not in that one lol 😂😂

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: Noo i dont fink so

criminalmindsfanatic: MATTHEW LIKED???

—> hotchqueen4: HELLO??

—>mggrumple: THR FRIENDSHIP WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

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mggupdates

❤️8k 💬358

mggupdates: Matthew with mystery girl in New York City, rumored to be comedian and SNL cast member y/n y/l/n

y/nfan: YUPPP THOSE ARE HER NAILS AND SHE HAS THAT RING!!!

—> unknown9495: @y/nfan I noticed that too!!

mggy/nfanclub: someone posted that they saw them it’s def her!!!

—>user63: @mggy/nfanclub pls tag me omg

movieluvr: livinggg for this friendship/relationship 😫

—> girlpwr88: @movieluvr46 i want him so bad

—> prncsspch: @girlpwr88 him?? I want HER

spencerreidswife: we lost him guys 💔

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️ 116k 💬 13k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal recently in nyc

marcellohdz: sonny ANGEL 💜

—>y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz you need to be stopped

gublergram: rubber duck

❤️ liked by author

—> randomuser281: @gublergram MGG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

—> whore4spencerreid: @gublergram HUH??

—> mggstan: @gublergram oh they for suree dating

—> spencerreid2005: @mggstan they could also just be good friends??

—> emilyprentissfan0: @randomuser281 someone PLEASE tell me if they’re dating

janewickline: coffee dates with my wife >>>

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @janewickline marry me.

—> janewickline: @y/ny/l/nforreal I do. 💍

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️106k 💬18k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, yourbsfuser and others

y/ny/l/nforreal my friend wrote a book and it is quite nice. now he’s giving free copies out on his book tour which is why he’s broke anyways go read 💚

gublergram: thank you y/n this is the best publicity I’ve ever recieved!

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @gublergram sure thing do you need a money loan too

—>yourbsfuser: @y/ny/l/nforreal Y/N 😭😭😭

—>spencerreidwhore: she ends him every day and I love to see it

y/nfancentral23: BROKE SHE CAME FOR HIM BYEEE

user18834: FRIEND?? we were all ROOTING for you 💔💔

randomuser: can we talk about how cute it is that she’s promoting his book 🥹🥹

—>matthewy/nshipper: @randomuser890 IK I love them so bad 😭

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gublergram

❤️382k 💬30k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, kirstenvangsness and others

gublergram you make me laugh every day. maybe it’s because you’re a comedian im not sure happy birthday 😊

y/ny/l/nforreal: wow thanks get rid of these pictures

—>gublergram: @y/ny/l/nforreal no

cmaddict: he’s def so in love with her omg

—> snlbiggestfan: @cmaddict1 I meannn who wouldn’t be

—>randomuser: THE it couple I love them so bad

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gublergram

❤️300k 💬27k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, aubreyplaza and others

gublergram bet you didn’t know y/n is also a professional makeup artist. i look spookier than ever @y/ny/l/nforreal

y/ny/l/nforreal: I just screamed

❤️ by author

cmfan3747: stoppp she’s doing his gublerween makeup now 🥹🥹

—> hater123 @cmfan3747 she’s almost 20 years younger than him. mad weird

—>yourshipnamestan @hater123 so they’re both adults hope this helps! ❤️

y/nfandom45: when is it my turn for a relationship like theirs 💔💔

—>user284: real asf 😖

—>troller293: so you want an inappropriate relationship with an inappropriate age gap?

—>user48: bro shut up

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y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️130k 💬 22k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal it appears your smile has always been contagious. happy birthday old man

gublergram ❤️

gublergram: old man? i retract my previous comment.

❤️ by author

bsfsusername: THE LAST PIC HELLO

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @yourbestfriendsuser the og hitch hiking ant

marcellohdz: gross ushy gushy caption delete this

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz I still love you!

—> marcellohdz: @y/ny/l/nforreal better. 😊

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mgg x SNL cast member tag list <3

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn

[free-for-all-fics]

Quick random thought/Prompt about The Recruiter from Squid Game. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

You’re a foreign exchange student or otherwise a foreigner (American, Canadian, European, whatever kind of foreigner you want to imagine) who is living in South Korea to study abroad. You speak Korean fluently or close enough to fluently so there’s little to no language barrier and you can get around. Everything is going well for you. College is great, your friends are awesome, you keep in contact with your family back home. But then something unexpected and out of your control happens that leaves you without anywhere to live. For whatever reason, living in a dorm on college campus is not an option for you and/or you lose access to your apartment. Your friends try to help you by giving you money and offering to let you couch surf at their places for a while, but they can’t offer their own places to you for very long nor indefinitely, only temporarily for whatever reasons they have. You’re either too proud or too embarrassed or a combination of both to call your family to ask them for money because you know they’ll probably just worry and say it’s a sign and push for you to come home prematurely and finish college in a local university or online, even if they were initially supportive of your decision to study abroad in South Korea. It’s dangerous for a woman to walk or travel alone, and yet you moved to a different country where you don’t know anybody. But you know most parents just naturally worry about their children all the time, even in adulthood. It’s not just yours.

Though it’s extremely difficult, you learn to adapt and find ways to get by for a while so you can still work and attend college by using public transport like the subway and taxis to get to your university and back, and utilize public places and services to do your laundry, take showers, get food, etc. You’re just a woman with just one suitcase or one duffle bag and a backpack. You’re practically living a nomadic-esque life on the streets or under a bridge when you’re not attending your college classes, moving from place to place to evade police and thieves and such. Or maybe you’re eventually caught sleeping in your workplace after hours and get fired as a result because the money you’ve saved up plus the money you make from your now former job isn’t enough for a new apartment at the moment. Whatever the circumstances for your misfortunes are, you end up hanging out and sleeping in Tapgol Park most of the time when you’re not attending school. You don’t tell your friends about your living situation because you don’t want to burden them. They’ve already helped you enough and you don’t want them to worry, so you lie and say you’ve found a place to stay.

One day, The Recruiter approaches you in Tapgol Park after your classes are over and holds out a bread roll and a lottery ticket, asking you to pick one or the other. He speaks to you in English, no doubt noticing you’re not a native Korean. He’s not the first person to do this to you and he won’t be the last. You’re used to it. When you speak to him in practically fluent Korean instead of English, his surprise quickly turns back to his original expression of mostly neutral with just a touch of smugness. It’s so quick that if you blinked, you would’ve missed it.

(Maybe unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you. Maybe he’s seen you around Jonggak Station or other Korean subway stations without you ever noticing him and has been keeping tabs on you ever since even though he doesn’t intend on recruiting you for the games. No matter what line you use to ride the subway, he’s conveniently where you are or going the same way you are. While he’s a stranger to you, he knows all about you. Maybe he speaks English to secretly test you to see if he can use the potential language barrier against you to gaslight and manipulate you by acting as your friendly and helpful Korean “translator” so you’ll heavily rely on him for help, but that Plan A backfires when he realizes how knowledgeable and proficient you are in the language, so he thinks to himself how he’ll have to come up with a Plan B. He knows based on his research, you’re a college student who studied Korean, but he underestimated you and how far along you got in your studies.)

He keeps his hands with the bread and lottery ticket outstretched towards you, repeating his request for you to pick one - the bread or the lottery - in Korean this time. You look between the two for a few seconds and, you’re not sure why but, instead of picking either, you look back up at him and ask if you can pick a third option instead. The heat from the sun beating down on you must be getting to you and fogging your brain for you to be feeling this extremely bold. You feel like you have nothing to lose today because, when he looks at you in confusion and asks what you mean by that, you just say, “I pick you,” and grab him by his tie to pull him down to your level and in for a kiss. You’re not sure what fucking demon or spirit possessed you or what the hell you were thinking when you did it. Call it an impulsive decision or whatever, but you don’t have time to question your sanity before you feel him kissing you back. He even drops what he’s holding to wrap his arms around your waist, hips, or neck and keep you in place as he pulls you closer. Wait, what? He’s actually kissing you back and seems really into it. Okay. An unexpected reaction from him. You weren’t expecting him to reciprocate, let alone this enthusiastically. You were half expecting him to push you away and ask what the hell you thought you were doing since, you know, you kinda assaulted him. But he doesn’t seem to mind or care that much about your assault. Okay. Maybe you can work with this. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was incredibly tall and handsome, after all. The light from the sun shining behind him made him look heavenly. Almost like an angel.

He surprises you again when he offers his house for you to live in while you study, claiming that it’s too big and there’s too many rooms for just him. You know your survival instincts are screaming at you to say no and politely turn him down because hello?? You just met this guy and know nothing about him. You know his offer sounds too good to be true and that there’s bound to be some catch. Nobody does something as generous as opening their house to a stranger without expecting something in return. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to just let you freeload off of him out of the goodness of his heart. You know damn well he seems like an angel but could be a devil in disguise. But you also know you’re desperate and can’t keep going on like how you have been. You have a feeling he knows that too. Whatever. That’s a problem for future you. Current you needs a place to stay. Whatever the price is for having a roof over your head, a warm bed to sleep in, and meals in your stomach that aren’t just cheap convenience store food, you’ll pay it.

He takes you home with him and you’re not ready for how lavish his place is. It has everything you could dream of and more. It even has more than one level and an elevator. Though all of the black furniture, flooring, and decor in his house is a little intimidating and off-putting, you admit it is stylishly done even if it reminds you too much of the inside of a coffin or death. But he’s right. It is too big for just him. But he doesn’t even have any pets. Why not? He clearly has the space and money for them. Does he not like animals? It must be a pain in the ass to clean and maintain his house, unless he has people who do it for him. Is that what he wants you to do? Act as his maid to earn your bed and meals? Or does he want something else from you? The thought that he wants sexual favors from you as payment crossed your mind when he first offered to let you stay with him, but that didn’t creep you out or deter you from accepting as much as you thought it would. If that’s the case, you think exactly like you did before: He’s tall and he’s handsome. He looks to be in his late thirties at least. Maybe even his early or mid forties. Even if he’s so many years older than you, you look at him and think he’s almost got a DILF thing going on, even though he doesn’t have kids. He looks like he works out and you think he probably has got amazing arms and shoulder muscles despite his suit making him look deceptively slender.

Does he reveal his unhinged side like what we saw in Season 2 or does he keep up the polite facade we saw in season 1? Or maybe you’re in a Jekyll and Hyde situation where he treats you like a princess and fucks you like a whore or vice versa and treats you like a whore but fucks you like a princess. Maybe he can flip flop between his two personas at any given moment and it sometimes feels like you’re tiptoeing around glass or dealing with an unpredictable ticking time bomb and you have to think carefully about how you’re gonna get through these outbursts and moods of his relatively unscathed. He loves games of all kinds, especially the ones with high risks and high rewards. And he wants to play with you. He has so many fun toys he could use on you. Toys for him could mean actual sex toys or literal weapons.

Whatever happens after that is up to you.

Whether or not you know about his darker side and/or the games and what he actually does for work to make his money and sustain his luxurious way of living, imagine he never kills himself while playing Russian Roulette with Gi-hun. Imagine sometime in the future, you’re married and have a child together. When your child is born, a lot of color is added to the house. Toys, your child’s room, picture books, their clothing, etc. is colorful because you and he both know that babies need a lot of color and other visual stimuli to aid in their development. You’ve watched him read to your baby and point to the pictures to teach them basic nouns like animal or object names or hold up paper ddakji tiles and flash cards of different shapes in front of them to teach them what colors and shapes are. A red circle, a blue square, a green triangle, a yellow star, a purple umbrella, etc. He maintains his love of games too, but the ones he plays with your child are obviously normal, child-friendly and age-appropriate games from both your home country and Korea, like Gong-gi.

“My turn!” Your child grabs the colorful plastic stones in their small fist and throws one in the air as they try to catch the others.

“What would my father say?” Your husband asks you as he sits across from them on the floor.

“That you’re building a very solid friendship with your child.”

He may or may not have told you about his past and how his father really died.

“No, darling. You've dropped a stone so you have to start over.”

“No!” Your child loves that word ever since they learned it. You’ve been trying to break them out of that habit, but it’s still funny sometimes.

“Don't be so mean. Let them continue from the stage they were at.”

He playfully glares at you. “It won't be very helpful later on if we don't teach our child how to lose.”

“Go ahead and cry, darling. Make Appa feel guilty.”

“Don’t encourage them!”

“Oh, hurry up, Appa! It's your turn!”

He takes the stones in his hand and throws them down on the floor, throws one in the air, then picks up one at a time to start the game anew. Both you and your child watch in awe as he clears all of the stages effortlessly, even the flip at the end. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves the sparkle in your child’s eyes as they watch him like he’s a superhero or something.

Throughout the years you’ve known him, you’ve never, ever, ever seen your husband cry. Not once. Not even on your wedding day or when your child was born and he held them for the first time or on their 100th day celebration. But then, when your child is three years old, he lays out a fountain pen, a bill of 50,000 won from his briefcase, and their favorite toy in front of them. He wants to see which one they will pick. When you ask what he’s doing, he tells you that a lot of Korean people do this with their toddlers. It represents what you'll value most when you grow up. The fountain pen is intelligence, the money is, well, money, and the toy is fun. He says he’s just doing it out of curiosity and boredom. It’s interesting for him to see which one your child will pick anyway. You watch as your child just sits there and stares at the items. He sits across from them and waits patiently. They crawl towards the objects, he holds his breath, and they push everything aside and push themselves up on their feet so they can waddle right into his arms instead. He didn't realize that he was one of the choices. And that’s the first, and possibly the only time you see your husband cry. Through his tears, he makes a teasing comment to you about how your child definitely takes after you because, like you, when he gave them a choice, they instead picked a different option that he never even considered.

[awesumsaus]

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window. 

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning. 

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.  

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core. 

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare. 

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle. 

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip. 

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior. 

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired. 

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his. 

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed. 

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry. 

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps. 

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to. 

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you. 

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up. 

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist. 

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.” 

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take. 

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands. 

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it. 

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him. 

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core. 

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.  

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. 

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see. 

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away. 

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold. 

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response. 

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. 

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. 

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky. 

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him. 

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.  

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him. 

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated. 

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily. 

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours. 

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again. 

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission. 

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure. 

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you. 

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole. 

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment. 

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way. 

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes. 

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide. 

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you. 

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. 

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer. 

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod. 

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought. 

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds. 

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take. 

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name. 

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare. 

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge. 

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled. 

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried. 

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain. 

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. 

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear. 

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of. 

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. 

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” 

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet. 

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity. 

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin. 

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates. 

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away. 

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room. 

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording. 

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object. 

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil. 

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later. 

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you. 

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two

[lewisvinga]

agora hills | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; with y/n’s newest ep release, everyone is going crazy trying to figure out who is making her feel this way. her fan base goes crazier once she finally reveals who it’s about.

fc; tyla

warnings; obvi suggestive lyrics/pictures obvi, cursing

notes; requested ! i’m abt to use tyla as a fc for singer reader bc she’s soooooooooooo fine

masterlist !

liked by username, username, and 1,034,093 others!

yourusername: agora hills. out now.

username: mother has done it againnn😩😩

username: omg i did not expect any of this

username: THE MVVVVV😩😩😩😩😩

username: how u shake ass like that🥴🥴🥴

username: y/n nation WE WON

username: ok but WHO is making her write and sing these songs😩

username: ‘i wanna show you off’ show WHO off, miss y/n🤨🤨🤨

username: love it when you hit and smack too, baby??????? EXCISDME?!/@;&; WHOO??

username: she outdid herself ONCE AGAIN

username: the fit of her in the black ferrari in the mv😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

username: i’m sooooo gay

username: i’m sooooooooo normal abt this like soooooo normal

username: i’m going crazy who is this about 😭😩

username: ‘fuck me ‘till daylight’ omg 😩😩

username: pls tell us who this is abouttt

username: going through her following to see what man is making her sing abt this😩🥴

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,789,572 others!

yourusername: my inspiration for agora hills.

tagged; charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: i can be your inspiration for your album?? 👀👀

yourusername: i think i’m going to need a lot of inspiration😼

charles_leclerc: omw.

charles_leclerc: my most gorgeous girl. i love you ❤️

yourusername: i love you, my pretty boy 💘

username: AGORA HILLS EP IS ABOUT CHARLES LECLERC??

username: oh wow….

username: i now get why she wrote what she wrote bc he’s 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

username: as an f1 fan and a y/n fan, this is INSANE

username: the third picture IM GOING CRAZY😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

maxverstappen1: well thanks a lot, now i can’t look at charles the same!

yourusername: you’re welcome 😁

username: so y/n can confirm that charles has that good d???

username: it was obvious w her ep

username: can’t believe the prince of monaco has you singing about how good the sex is 😭😭

username: now i understand why she kept using a black ferrari in her mv😩😩

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆⁺₊❅. “Give you...whatever you need!"⋆⁺₊❅.

synopsis: being the captains assistant ;)

tags: lots of possessiveness, manipulation (?), power dynamics, dom capitano, vulgar, explicit, fingering, facefucking, begging, degradation, penetration, creampie, you get the gist

wrd cnt: 2.5k

a/n: doja cat pls release generous ( lyrics from the song as title) and my life is YOURS… also partly inspired by the azeru audio….

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Droplets of a custom blend of his favorite drink, warm and slightly sweet hit the bottom of a porcelain cup.

It was just something you did, something you knew The Captain liked and as his assistant, routinely did.

This particular evening it was as if everyone in the nation needed you. A task, an errand, or just had to stop you in your tracks to his quarters for some idle chat.

It must have been several minutes longer than when he was expecting you, which was far too long to keep the Captain waiting; occupied against your will.

His tea was cold by now.

Finally, you ran over to his door. The runway-like carpet ending and small tiles lining the entryway to his office, guarded and sealed.

But you were a regular.

The guard knocked on the door, “Sir, your assistant has returned” he announced, waiting for an answer.

It took a few seconds, but you could hear a faint “Let her in”.

You sigh deeply and watch the giant doors open and shut behind you as you walk into the dimly lit room, only candles and small lamps lit across the table and crackling fireplace that remained behind The Captain’s seated body.

“Over and Over. I must have called you a thousand times? More or less.” He spoke, his voice clear even through the steel mask that adorned his face.

“I’m so sorry-“ You quickly respond, placing the cup on the edge of his desk and folding your hands together. “I got caught up with some others- a few harbingers as well needed my assistance.”

He straightened his legs, now standing in front of you, making you back up just slightly due to his large frame.

“It’s as if you’ve forgotten who you serve.” He said, the point of his gauntlet nail scratching the edge of your jaw and trailing down to your chin.

“Who kept you so long?” He asked, quickly adding “Never mind. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”

You have trouble knowing where to look. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for yourself.

“Now that you’re here…maybe we should get started. You’ll probably need to stay overnight.” He mentioned.

You nod, agreeably to not seem like you’re eager to leave.

You sorted out all the intel Capitano had been collecting. There were piles of data, equipment, maps, and so much more. You were the only person he’d let touch them. It was common for you to stay late, as work never seems to dry out. It was also common for you to be whatever he wanted you to be. Errand runner, liaison…or his toy to let out his frustrations.

Everyone sees The Captain for what he puts on. Respectable and professional.

Most of the fatui honestly confess to enjoying working for him, as he has been much kinder than the others.

He can be, but he has his limits.

How can he be so kind to you when you’re late? You dared to keep him waiting.

“This is unlike you.” He says, noticing you yawn as you flip through the pages.

You blink your eyes a second too long, “Oh- I’m sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep, but I can keep working! Please don’t worry”. You assure.

“ I’m not worried, not for myself anyway.” He adds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk.

“Come here.” He urges you, forcing you to get off your small little table in the corner to his desk.

He flicks just one finger and you follow, taunting you to his lap.

“Yes- Captain?” You feel your throat get dry as you sit on his thigh, big enough to count as a seat.

“Is there anything…you need from me?” You ask, insinuating a more personal form of assistance.

He hikes his foot up higher on the table, creating a steep slope of his legs that drags you down and forces you into the crook of your lap, hands instinctively hitting his chest for balance.

“This isn’t for me. I think we need to wake you up.”

You felt a small shiver run up your spine when his hands landed on your hips, “How else will you finish all your work?” He adds.

You let out a small sigh as you felt his steel-clad fingers wrapping around your sides as if your ribs were now armored.

He slowly dragged them down your stomach, small points sliding down the sides of your thighs making you arch your back and grind onto his lap, earning a chuckle from him.

With swift motion, he grabs your throat; dropping his mask on the floor and letting it roll off somewhere.

Your body tenses, and you can see the most faint glimpses of his face; still hidden under the darkness of the room.

Deep and rich, he speaks to you, “Take off your clothes.”

Almost as if he’d conditioned your mind, you do so with no complaints.

He even helps, tugging up your shirt with the finger tip of his gauntlets as you pull it off. As your shirt falls to the floor, you stand before him in just your bra and skirt, your heart pounding in your chest. He doesn't waste any time, his hands moving to your back, deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The straps slide down your arms, and your breasts spill free, bouncing lightly as they are finally released. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now the rest."

You slip your skirt down, letting it pool at your feet, and step out of it.

You stand there, naked and vulnerable, your breath hitching as Capitano's fingers trace the curve of your hips. His touch is firm yet deliberate, each movement sending shivers down your spine. Shadows play across his muscular frame, making him appear even more imposing as he pulls you back onto his lap, each leg now dangling off his sides.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and gravelly. The steel in his tone leaves no room for disobedience.

You hesitate for a brief moment, but the intensity in his dark blue eyes compels you to comply. You part your thighs, positioning yourself in his lap. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your folds, another hand squeezing your breasts between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp, arching into his touch, your body betraying how much you crave his attention.

"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you.

He leans forward, his mouth closing around your nipple, suckling hard enough to make you cry out.

His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the tough material of his armor, as he moves to your other breast, repeating the process. Each pull of his lips, each scrape of his teeth, makes you shudder, your body responding eagerly to his rough ministrations.

"Captain..." you moan, your voice breaking as he continues his assault on your senses and his gentle strokes around your inner thigh, purposefully ignoring your sensitive pearl.

He pulls back, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "Turn around," he orders, his voice firm and commanding.

You obey, swinging your leg over and turning your back to him…well, it’s more of him picking up your entire weight and shifting you into position.

As you automatically reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, he lifts himself off his seat, stepping close to your body, his presence looming behind you, his heat radiating against your bare skin. You feel his hands on your ass, squeezing the globes roughly, spreading them apart to expose your most intimate parts. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what's coming next.

"Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me." He adds, flicking his arm down to release his hand from the gauntlet, thudding on the floor just as his last piece of equipment.

“Is this what you were thinking about in that little corner of yours?” He teases.

His fingers trail down, skin grazing the crease where your thighs meet your ass, dipping lower until they brush against your wet folds. You gasp, your knees buckling slightly as he slips one finger inside you, probing deeply. You clench around him, your muscles instinctively tightening, drawing him deeper.

"You're so, so wet," he murmurs, his finger sliding in and out of you, slowly building up speed. "Such a good girl."

Your head falls forward, your forehead resting on the cool surface of the desk as you ride out the sensations he's unleashing on your body. His cold finger flicks against your clit, making you jerk and whimper, your hips swaying involuntarily as you try to get more friction. "Beg for it," he demands, removing his finger and resting it on your hips.

"Please... Captain, please," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "I want more... I need you..."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he says, "But soon."

You whine in protest, your body aching for release, but he grabs your hips.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You drop to your knees, your hands trembling as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. You undo his pants, pushing them down to reveal his hardened length, already glistening with pre-cum.

You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of him.

"Take me in your mouth," he orders, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his throbbing cock, sucking gently as you take him deep into your throat. He groans, his hands tightening in your hair as you bob your head up and down, your tongue swirling around him with each pass. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, his hips thrusting gently to meet your movements.

"Fuck... yes," he mutters, his voice strained with effort. "Suck it like you mean it."

You redouble your efforts, taking him deeper, your throat convulsing around him as you gag slightly.

He tastes amazing, salt and iron, the essence of his power and dominance filling your senses. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you stroke the base of his shaft with your hand, listening to the sounds of his grunts and moans above you.

"That's it," he praises, his fingers digging into your scalp. "Just like that... almost there...you’re working so hard"

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing heavy and labored. You know he's close, can feel the tension building in him, and you work harder, your jaw aching from the effort.

Suddenly, he lets out a low growl, his fingers yanking your head back as he comes, his hot seed flooding your mouth.

You swallow dutifully, licking him clean as he pulls out of your mouth, his chest heaving with exertion.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and smirks. "Up," he commands, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm.

You do as told, standing up and facing him, your legs shaky from being on your knees for so long. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards the desk, and pushes you onto it, your chest pressing against the cool wood. You gasp, your nipples rubbing against the rough surface, sending jolts of sensation through your body.

He kneels behind you, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing the flesh before diving between your legs once more. His fingers find your drenched entrance, slipping inside with ease, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

You moan, your head falling back as his other hand circles your clit, rubbing it furiously.

"That’s it…keep making those sounds," he whispers, "So fucking wet for me. You need more, don’t you?”

You nod, unable to form words, your body consumed by the pleasure he's giving you. His rough hands continue to pleasure you, painting your ass red with just a single slap.

“Answer me.” He says, waiting for your begging voice before pressing his hard length into your ass.

“Yes- please….please Capitano.” You whimper.

You can almost feel the smirk that’s plastered on his face behind you. He lines himself up, his tip teasing your entrance, dipping just enough to coat himself in your slick arousal. You shiver at the contact, your body tensing in anticipation. Then, without warning, he presses forward, his cock sliding partway into your tight channel before pausing.

"Relax," he commands, his voice firm. "Give yourself to me completely."

You try to relax, breathing deeply, but the stretch is overwhelming. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he begins to push deeper, filling you inch by agonizing inch. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your muscles clenching around him as he forces his way inside.

"That's it," he whispers, his voice strained. "Take it all, my little slut."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's buried deep inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the fullness, by the sheer dominance of his presence within you. It's almost too much, but somehow, it's exactly what you need.

Capitano doesn't wait for you to adjust. With a low growl, he pulls back until only his tip remains, then thrusts forward again, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force. You cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support as he claims you over and over again. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "So tight, so perfect."

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. He fucks into your at a monstrous pace, your body going limp. He picks you up, holding your neck firm from behind.

“Arch your fucking back.” He growls, roughly handling you into position. You can feel the tension building in him, the same tension that's coiling inside you, tightening with every thrust, every caress. You're close, so close, but he's not done with you yet.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble.

You obey, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, filled with lust and possession. He looks at you as if you're his world, his everything, and in this moment, you believe it.

"You're mine," he whispers, “Anytime another person- another damn harbinger calls for you- shit” He groans, “…tell them to fuck off. Captain’s order?” his voice thick with emotion. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I will-!" you breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

His hand slides down to your clit again, his fingers rubbing in fast, desperate circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come undone, your body convulsing around his cock. He follows right behind you, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, filling you with his warmth.

You’ve never served Capitano with a cold cup of tea again.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[theharddeck]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[fastboatsmojito]

just saw ur scott reblog gRAAAHH WOOF WOOF anyway !!! and it inspired me to request something <3 (love ur writing btw) pls write something with scott and how big he is 😣 a lil suggestive if u know what i mean 🙈

OHH YOU GET IT SO HARD + thank you so much !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 whenever someone says they like my writing i get so giddy, it’s just the sweetest 😞

Anyways!!! Absolutely, thank you for fueling my obsession with this large man 💓

Just some scattered Scott x reader thoughts really

|CW; somewhat suggestive, he calls you girl once ☝🏼 incredibly obvious size kink from both parties whoops, he’s pretty canon-accurately an asshole, + suggested dom/sub relationship stuff??? Kinda??? Like not really but a little bit??? idk how else to tag that lmao. Obviously there’s a size difference here but it’s not specific, you could really just be shorter than him and it’d work just the same mwah <33

The first time you really notice is a total accident, you got caught up in the sight of the storm in front of you, not even given time to react to his stern “get in.” before he’s picking you up and putting you back in the car.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, figuratively and literally as you blankly stare at him, still focused on how effortlessly he carried you back to the car.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know, it was just so close-“

“Yeah, no shit it was close. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You have to pay more attention than that.”

You just nodded, staring at the way his hands flexed as he drove away, suddenly aware of the drastic contrast between the two of you. He picked you up like it was nothing, which was nothing considering the size of him, you just hadn’t thought about it in that way before.

——

He doesn’t think anything of it for a while, chalking your lingering glances up to his over-analytical mind, until you unintentionally piss him off with it.

“Is this going to be a problem for you?” He was right in your face, arms crossed over his chest as he bitterly chewed his gum, working himself up even more when you couldn’t give him a direct answer.

“If you can’t do your job ‘cause you’re too busy staring at me or whatever the fuck, I’ll have to move you to Javi’s team. Got it?” He barked, shaking his head as he stormed off.

As soon as he realizes why you’ve been staring at him, it’s over.

You were at the diner with the rest of the team, smiling as you walked to the table, bumping into some hard, tall, figure in front of you on the way.

He turned to steady you, big hands landing on your waist. “You ever try paying attention to what you’re doing? It’s pretty helpful.” He was a dick, sure. But you still found yourself focusing more on the feeling of his hands and the way your face warmed up at his assertive tone.

“You ever try not being an asshole?” You rolled your eyes at him before you walked away, but he didn’t miss the pause, or the way your breath picked up at his words. He put it together then, having been so caught up in work he didn’t realize just how tolerable you were getting, his hands constantly drifting towards you absentmindedly whenever you were close enough.

——

He usually went to work to get his job done and go home which was made clear, but after a while he got carried away. Comfortable enough being around you to end up reluctantly carrying you out of the car one night.

He tried to wake you up, met with sleepy grunts and you repositioning yourself before falling back to sleep.

He wanted to just leave you in the car, give you a blanket or ‘whatever’ but it was too cold, and you were in some small town he didn’t know well enough. He rolled his eyes as he took you out, large, rough hands a nice juxtaposition to the way he gently lifted you up.

He had to bring you to his room, not sure of where your room key was and not interested in dealing with your mood if he woke you back up.

He laid you down on the bed, throwing the blanket over you before taking off his work shirt and getting ready to begrudgingly sleep on the couch in his own room.

He went to turn off the lights, groaning when he saw you sit up, whining and stretching your arms.

“You know your necks gonna hurt if you sleep on that couch, Scotty. C’mere.” You sleepily muttered, patting the bed next to you.

He knew it was a bad idea, not missing the new nickname as he put his face in his hands, too exhausted to argue and too self-aware to disregard the attitude he’d have if he woke up to you in his bed and a sore neck.

“Jesus Christ. Alright, fine. One time. Don’t make it weird.” He gruffed as he turned the light off before slipping into bed next to you.

You were facing him as he faced the ceiling, his arms crossed firmly along his chest like some grumpy old man, still awake and motionless when you cuddled into him in your sleep.

——

After that he’s basically torturing you until you say it out loud. Putting his hands on your waist all casual to move past you, refusing to acknowledge any of it first.

Both of his hands were on your shoulders as he crouched down to be eye level with you, losing his patience after he caught you staring at his arms when he was trying to talk to you.

“If you want something, you’ll have to use your words like a big girl and ask for it. All this pouty, wordless shit won’t work with me. I need you to listen to me when I talk to you.” He spat condescendingly, minty gum popping in your ears. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer when you shook your head.

“No? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you want. I’m not about to guess.” You squeezed your eyes shut to get away from his intense stare.

“I don’t want to say it here.” You barely whispered, opening your eyes when he sighed.

“Damn it.” He breathed before pausing, standing up tall and scanning over the parking lot you were in.

“Alright, come on.” He said bluntly before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Scott-“ You pouted as he swept you back to his motel room.

“Just shut up and let me help you out for once, yeah?”

-

I need him so bad

[healmydesires]

nasty (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: On a hot summer morning, you wake up with Joel’s mouth between your thighs.

genre: smut with a bit of fluff. kinda pure filth… sorry (18+ mdni)

word count: 4,2k

tags/warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s although it isn’t really mentioned), soft!joel, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, somnophilia (consented, but it isn’t mentioned), lots of pet names, reader is described as shorter than joel, unprotected sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, pleasure!dom joel, doggy, hairpulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, heavy on the breeding kink, joel has a big dick.

a/n: the title is inspired by ariana grande’s song nasty. also in my brain this is in the same universe as “forever in your eyes”. this is truly… a huge fantasy of mine so, this is another super self indulgent piece. I hope you enjoy! <3

pls joel miller… one chance 🥺 [begs]

ao3

The sun is bright and warm on a summer morning, light slipping through the partially open blinds, warming up the bedroom. Your body slowly wakes up from its slumber, a moan falling from your lips as you register the feel of a wet tongue lapping at your slit.

Your cheeks heat up as you realise the position you’re in. You’re on your tummy, your hips are slightly tilted upwards as Joel’s tongue licks your pussy from behind like a man starved. You whimper loudly as your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him circle the tip of his tongue around your tight wet hole. You still feel a bit sore from last night’s activities. As Joel was making you cum on his tongue for hours before he even made love to you.

“Ah, Joel!” You mewl pathetically.

“Good morning baby girl.” He groans against your heat.

You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you slowly rut your hips against his mouth. Your core is beyond soaked, dripping underneath you onto his mouth and sheets. You were truly desperate and full of want, you needed some more relief.

“You’re dripping for me kitten,” Joel grunts as he slowly moves his fingers to your wetness, tracing your slit slowly with admiration as you try to buck your hips against his face and fingers, begging for more. “So needy for me.”

Your eyes slide shut and you whine, as he leans down to wrap his lips around your button at the same time he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your pussy.

A broken moan spills from your lips as he moves his fingers and tongue simultaneously.

This is heaven. You could literally die happily right now.

His tongue, moving slowly against your clit, as his fingers continue to fuck inside you. The wet squelching sounds makes Joel moan into your clit, causing vibrations that make your body tremble and shake. He curls his fingers against your most sensitive spot inside you, making you grind your hips against him once again.

Your walls hug every surface and ridge of his thick fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. Joel’s mouth lavishes your pussy with his tongue while he moans every now and then against you. Your hips continue to move against his face, picking up your pace gradually. Your head reels with pleasure once his tongue presses down on your needy aching clit.

“F-fuck, J-Joel, I’m so so so close. Pleeeaaaase.” You whimper begging for more.

Joel sucks at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. He eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little button while moving his fingers inside you faster.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant Joel’s name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, overwhelmed as he continues to pleasure you in one of the best ways he can.

You let out a moan more akin to a scream as he scissors his fingers inside your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. With the second hard suck on your throbbing clit, you cum with a loud moan. You feel your vision turning white as your whole body writhes beneath him.

He laps at your release happily, licking your pussy lips slowly until you’re whining from the overstimulation.

“I’ll never get tired of how sweet you taste baby,” he groans against you. “I could eat this little pussy for days.” You feel him press soft kisses to your trembling thighs, his beard tickling your skin.

“Please Joel… I need you.” You whine desperately.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He says as he presses another kiss to your skin.

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me.” You wiggle your hips impatiently.

“Anythin’ for you princess.” He chuckles as he grips your hips to flip you over but you quickly swat his hands away with a whine. “Sweetheart?”

“I wanna try something else this morning…”

Every damn day, you’ve been begging for him to fuck you from behind. And every time he would find excuses not to do so. He keeps telling you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know how big his cock is, you’re more than aware of that. But you simply don’t care, you want him to fuck you in the most filthy way possible. To stretch your tiny hole, filling you up so deliciously. You’ve been dreaming of him fucking you from behind for so long, you need it so much.

“Baby, we talked about this. You need to be patient.” Joel whispers as he caresses your hips in a soothing manner.

“Joel… I’ve been patient.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I need you. Just, pleaseeee. Please, I need it so bad. I need to be filled with your thick cock. Need you to fuck me from behind so bad. I just crave it so much. I want you to breed this little hole you love so much… Please your kitten needs it so ba—” your begging gets cut off by a high pitched whimper leaving your lips as Joel’s mouth dives back between your thighs.

Licking a long stripe along your slit, coaxing a loud, broken moan out of you. Joel’s hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he laps at you furiously. You writhe against his lips, whining and pleading for more.

He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth. It’s heavenly addicting, the way Joel’s tongue slips between your folds and dips into you, working you closer and closer to your release within each passing second.

His hands move to your ass, kneading the two cheeks as he lets you grind your hips back against his face. Sweet little noises of ecstasy leave your lips as he continues to lick and suck at your pussy.

You shudder as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit again, sucking lightly. You cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your second high of the morning. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pick up your pace, unable to handle the unbearable pleasure you’re experiencing as the coil in your stomach is about to snap.

You mewl loudly as Joel plunges his tongue inside your pussy. Massaging your inner walls, driving you insane. He sucks and licks with fervour.

“Joel, please, I’m close, fuck fuck fuck,” You stutter out a loud cry.

He increases his pace, tongue thrusting inside your pulsing hole rapidly. Your body’s temperature is rising as you move your hips, fucking his tongue.

“P-please.” You moan, your voice sounding so broken.

“Come for me kitten.” He groans against your pussy before plunging back his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit applying pressure. You come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost thought it might make you pass out.

Gasping out his name, you grasp the sheets in your hands at the intense pleasure. Your pussy keeps clenching around his tongue as he continues to pleasure you. Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock have passed. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.

His hands caress your ass fondly as he pulls his mouth away from your throbbing heat.

“You did so well angel, you’re always so good to me. Such a good girl. I can never get enough of how good you taste.” He murmurs.

You whimper at both the oversensitivity and his words. As you’re trembling and coming down from your high he moves to press wet kisses all the way up towards your neck. Your whimpers, whines and moans don’t stop as he spoils your body with his touch and his affection.

“I love you so much sweet girl.” Joel whispers as he nuzzles his head between your neck and your shoulder.

You feel yourself melting underneath him at his words, touch and kisses, “I love you too.” Joel presses open mouthed kisses against your neck, shoulders and jaw. Leaving you a whimpering mess. You’re wiggling your hips against him, situating his hard length between your ass cheeks. Joel’s hands come to grab your hips with a loud groan.

As you continue to squirm under him, his cock slides against your pussy. The action makes both of you moan and your body trembles with anticipation, hoping he would finally enter you from behind. You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as you move your hips against his, grinding your wetness against his massive cock, the tip nudging your clit or entrance every now and then.

It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting his cock against your entrance. He groans as he moves his body against yours, leaving you breathless. You feel your pussy pulse and continue to squeeze around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

His body is covering your whole body with his own. Joel nuzzles your neck as he continues to litter your skin with his kisses. You writhe against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

Joel reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“F-fuck, Joel please. I can’t do this anymore, I just need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please d-daddy. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. Daddy please—”

At your words Joel growls, grasps your hips and tilts them more and pushes your legs further apart. He moves to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whines from your lips. You’re squirming, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him but he has such a strong hold on you, making it hard for you to move too much.

“Be a good girl and be patient.” He groans against your ear.

“P-please Daddy—”

A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. You feel his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you know his eyes are on your pussy. He’s watching as your walls spread to begin to wrap around him. You whimper at the new angle as you try to accommodate his girth. He can barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It feels like you are being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stutter and mewl.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Joel moans as he gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. Your pulsing walls are wrapped tightly around his cock, as your pussy pulls him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Ah, daddy… you’re so big.” You whimper.

“You take me so well kitten. Doing so good for daddy.” He moans as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he keeps pushing more of his girth in you slowly. You feel so full already and you know he’s barely halfway in.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans keep spilling from your lips as Joel continues to push deeper and deeper. Your hands continue to grip the sheets between your fingers as he penetrates your tight walls.

“Please daddy… more. I can take it.” You whine as you squirm underneath him.

He groans at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrusts the rest of his length all the way inside your heat. The head of his cock touching your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream leaves your mouth as you’re trembling underneath him, you try to adjust to his size while your pussy keeps clenching around his cock. You push your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers keep falling from your lips.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” Joel hisses.

You moan and squeeze around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands move to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“Please d-daddy. I need more.”

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this, taking me all the way… like the good girl you are.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Joel groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly but hard against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around his thick cock, as it tries to adjust to its girth still.

You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. You feel his cock throbbing inside you as you tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby, you’re so hot like this.” Joel slowly picks up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right baby girl?”

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-Pleeaaase f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you’re begging and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gives you a particular hard thrust.

You almost feel your arms giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Joel’s hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leans down again to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travel down your spine, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind.

Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more.

Joel picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, moaning you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy is so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thickness as it pulses and tightens around him. Joel moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Joel leans closer to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he thrusts harder and faster. You whine loudly as the angle makes him hit your sensitive spot inside you. You’re literally going insane, it feels so overwhelming and good.

Your noises become louder and higher pitched as he continues his assault on your pussy, indicating that you’re getting closer as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate cries. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groans as he thrusts harder.

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—”

You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

“Oh, m-my goood… please J-j-d-daddy, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.

Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck, picking up his pace again, fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You try to catch your breath but from how Joel is thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.

“I-it feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Does that feel good, sweet girl?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Joeeel—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Joel’s fingers continue to press down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming.

Joel snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m sooo so close, p-please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.

You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down again and presses kisses down your neck.

“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear.

“Ah—”

His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head while you arch your back as your world dissolves into pure ecstasy. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimper as the overstimulation is getting to you.

“Daddy wants to fill you up, baby girl.” He groans as his pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a my cum into you, kitten. Get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud mewls leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.

“Ah...” you whimper underneath him as your body continues to shake.

Joel exhales deeply as he feels himself come down from his high. He gently pulls out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you feel his eyes on you, knowing that he’s watching his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around nothing and he feels himself harden again at the sight.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.

You feel his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You tighten the hold you have around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“That was truly amazing Joel… thank you.” You whisper against his hair before you hear him chuckle, his body shaking as he laughs softly.

“Any time baby. You know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” He says before bringing his head towards yours, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull away to look at him tenderly while your fingers trace his face, his beard fondly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” He whispers back as he leans down to kiss your lips. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s no hurry when he tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

His mouth moves slowly from your lips to the rest of your face, littering your skin full with them. “You did so well for me, such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with mock annoyance.

“I know what you are thinking.” You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“And what am I thinking?” He asks playfully, staring you down as he tries to stifle a grin.

“Well, I don’t even have to say what you’re thinking, I already feel you getting hard again mister.” You say with a playful smile as you poke his chest. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispers against your hand, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Right… of course you don’t.” You roll your eyes at him playfully.

You yelp as you feel him pinch your ass. “Don’t be a brat.” He grabs your ass in his hands, bringing you closer against him as you whimper, making him chuckle at your reaction. “You know that I’ll always want you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too.” You whisper as you bite your lips with a smile.

His eyes twinkle deviously as he squeezes your cheeks in his hands. “I could wear you out even more than I did last night.” Joel says cheekily, winking as a smirk plays on his lips.

“Joel!” You give him a playful push as your cheeks heat up at his words. Joel laughs before wrapping his arms around you, puckering his lips while making kissy noises and littering your face with kisses which makes you giggle and squirm against him. Joel’s grip tightens around you as he continues to kiss you all over your face playfully.

“I know you love it baby girl, don’t try to deny it.” He whispers before leaning his head down to kiss your neck, you squeak and continue to squirm against him.

“What if I say I don’t?” You taunt teasingly, cocking your head to the side.

“Then you’re a terrible liar.” He says looking all smug before his lips nip at your jawline.

Your giggles turn to breathy whimpers the more he kisses and licks your neck. You feel yourself lose easily in his kisses and touches, your body turning to mush instantly.

“I’ve been very nice, very good to you… Maybe you’d love to cum around me again?” He smiles as he looks down at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push again.

“Joel!!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.

The morning continues like this, your fingers wandering all over each other, giving each other kisses all over as the pleasure between you two doesn’t stop. The day is filled with love and desire for one another, you will never get tired of loving that man.

He’s your heaven.

[yelenasbraid]

maintaining professionalism pt. 3 — joe burrow

series summary — She’s a witty, stubborn athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals. He’s the star quarterback who can’t take his eyes off of her. The more she works with him, the stronger the magnetic pull. She’ll do anything to maintain professionalism, and he’ll do anything to get the girl.

chapter summary — It’s week 10 against the Ravens. Everything goes smoothly until it doesn’t.

warnings — fem!reader, angst, some fluff, mentions of injury

note — again, had some creative liberty with the game. also pls don’t hate me at the end :)

song that inspired this part — I Love You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams (i’m sorry)

tags — @starsinthesky5 @definitelynotdomanique @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @wickedfun9 @kravitzwhore @hannahjessica113 @musicforsnoopy @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @belleann23 @grandpeachpersona @burreauxss @noeesd19 @starkeyswomen @xbriexx @grittysbiggestfan @dboanalagoaaoo @kazsbrckkers @harryweeniee @majestic87 @wellwellwellhereiam @hotburreaux

COMING OFF OF A WIN blossomed hope in the players’ chests. The Raiders never stood a chance against the Bengals’ offense. Joe, albeit pissed, had a hopeful attitude. He was determined; they lost to the Ravens once and they wouldn’t do it again.

The game started swiftly, a touchdown for the Bengals and a touchdown for the Ravens. It was going to be a back and forth game, and as you watched, your anxiety had never been higher.

It was third quarter. It had been back and forth the whole game, and the defense wasn’t putting in the work they were supposed to. Your jaw worked, your hands tightened in how they crossed over your chest. You turned for a second, and you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned and was met with the hard body and padding of a Ravens player. You slammed back onto your back, a gasp leaving your throat. You gritted your teeth as your body writhed, as your legs shook.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Your vision blurred as your hearing was muffled. Being pummeled by a receiver who can’t stop when going out of bounds isn’t for the weak. Then you felt cleats dig into your skin, then you felt blood vessels pop in your bicep.

Joe was furious. His anger flared, his hands moving before his brain could. With a brutal shove, landing the Ravens receiver on his ass, Joe couldn’t keep his cool.

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” His voice raised, growling at the Ravens receiver.

“Joe Burrow got a mouth on him, huh?” the receiver taunted, and before Joe could take another step, before any of the other players could, the refs stepped in and called personal fouls on both teams.

“You actin’ like she your girl!” the receiver called as he was ushered back to his sideline. Joe’s anger was kindled, his skin hot with the sweetness of his anger. He didn’t see or hear anything besides the taunts of the receiver.

“Bro, bro, calm down,” Ja’Marr Chase pulled Joe from his trance, tugging him towards you. You were just sitting up, being helped up by another athletic trainer.

“Y/N, Y/N, you ok? Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes softening and his body relaxing. Your eyes weren���t exactly soft. You glared at him, shaking off the athletic trainer.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, your voice hoarse, “getting a personal foul for almost starting a fight? Over an athletic trainer?” you were baffled, bewildered even, but you couldn’t deny how endearing it felt.

Joe’s nostrils flared. He knew eyes were on him, he could feel them. Everyone was watching him, and suddenly their gaze felt heavy.

You weren’t just an athletic trainer to him. You were more than that. But he couldn’t admit that. Not on the field.

“I can’t ask if you’re ok?” his tone was guarded, rough with the anger that still coursed through his blood.

“You have other things to focus on, Joe! You have a game to win, you have a team to lead!” you seethed. You coughed, a wheeze leaving your chest as you still fought to recover from the fact the wind was knocked out of you.

Joe didn’t know what to think. He let his guard down for one second and you immediately brushed him off. His jaw worked, his chest tightening. He wouldn’t argue, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to scream at you, to tell you the real reason why he was so concerned. But no. Maybe he should just let it go. Maybe he should just let you go.

“Fine, I guess I won’t bother to check in on you anymore,” he seethed, walking away from you. You rolled your tongue over your teeth, shaking your head. Your chest hurt, your back ached, but you’d be ok. You just had the wind knocked out of you, and your arm was stepped on. Being upset at him, at how he acted, it covered up the desire to curl into him, to let him protect you, make you feel better. It wasn’t professional.

—

The game ended in a loss. The frustration was hot, stringing between each player and staff member. You felt it too, and not because you felt the bruise blossoming on your back and how your arm throbbed.

It was late when you got back to the facility. You needed to finish some things before you went home, before you slept for 14 hours straight.

Your office was cool, the darkness of it enveloping you as you walked in. You used the flashlight on your phone, walking to the lamp on your desk, turning it on.

Every muscle in your body ached. Your chest still hurt, your arm was killing you, and your back ached. You felt like you’d been hit by a train. You gingerly sat down at your desk, running a shaky hand over your ponytail as you opened your laptop to submit a report.

A knock on your office door made your eyes flick up, and you didn’t even get the chance to ask who it was before they walked in.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked Joe, your voice hoarse and her eyes raking over his figure. He looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

“I’m not done having that conversation from earlier,” Joe snapped. He’d been wrestling with your words, with his own feelings about you that he couldn’t find the ability to feel tired. His body was aching, his mind was sluggish, but damnit he was going to force you to understand something.

“Well I was,” you snapped back, shutting your laptop lid. Joe could see the ugliness of the bruise on your arm, how each small bruise from the spikes on the cleat made up a large, ugly, bruise. He sucked in a breath, refraining from asking if you were ok.

Because apparently you didn’t want him to do that.

“Well I’m not,” he sounded like a stubborn toddler, and how he crossed his arms over his chest further solidified that.

“You really need to be going home, Joe. You shouldn’t be here,”

“Why? I need to be out on that field, practicing every damn second so we don’t lose to such a vital team again,” he argued, stepping further into your office. His skin was sunkissed perfectly, his hair curling from the water of the shower he took. He looked so comfortable, and she held back the desire to curl up against him, to feel his body heat.

“You need rest, that’s what you need,” you told him, putting your laptop in your bag. You weren’t going to talk about the fact that he slung his arm around you weeks ago, how he looked at you with such concern today, well yesterday. It was cutting into the early hours of the morning.

“So do you,” he charged, his expression rough, but his eyes reflected a softness that you hadn’t seen before. Only when he looked at you.

“I’ll get rest, stop worrying about me,”

“I always worry about you, Y/N!” he shouted, and the words hung in the air, they hung around your necks and they choked you.

“Joe-”

“Especially after you got run over by a player tonight, but no, I can’t even ask if you’re ok,” He was upset, and his emotions from the game, from how poorly they did, they spilled over. His walls were down and he was so close to confessing that he had fallen for you.

“That’s not what I said-”

“That’s what you implied!”

“Let me talk!” you shouted, your eyes hard and wide, a fire building within your gut. Your mind was racing, your body was thrumming with the tension that was choking both of you. He worried about you. Why? Why did he worry about you? Did he have feelings for you?

The idea that he could have any sort of romantic feelings for you made your heart flutter. It gave you butterflies and ignited a sweet excitement in you, but you swallowed it. You couldn’t even entertain the thought of being with Joe.

“You can ask if I’m ok, that’s not what I was implying. You just did something stupid, and it pissed me off! That’s why I didn’t answer you, that’s why I didn’t even entertain that idea!” Your voice was raised, but it was controlled. You watched your words permeate through Joe’s body, how he processed them. He had a lot more to say, you could see it in how his eyes flicked over your face, how his hands were bunched into fists at his sides.

“Did you expect me to just let him get away with that?” He asked, taking a step forward, his hands flexing at his sides.

“Yes, Joe! Someone else would have handled it, and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten a personal foul!”

“You’re worth getting a personal foul over!” He shouted again, and his words choked you. You stood there, your eyes wide and your body rigid. That sweet excitement tingled your chest, it made your heart skip a beat. It was a childish hope that he returned your feelings, but maybe he was just getting a rise out of you.

“You need to go home,” you told him, your voice calmer. Your breaths came out in quick puffs, your nerves eating your stomach up.

“Y/N-”

“Go home, Joe. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” your voice was rough, hoarse from your yelling and the tightness in your chest.

He looked at her, observing how her eyes dialed in on him, how her body stiffened with his confession. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and it wasn’t even a full confession. He swallowed, his hands shaking at his sides. His anxiety ate at his chest; he felt stupid.

“Can I at least explain?”

“You can explain after you get sleep,” you snapped. You didn’t want to be this uptight with him, to be this closed off, but the best way to combat feelings for him was to shut him out, to make him forget about you.

“I don’t want to do that,”

“Stop arguing with me,” you snapped, grabbing your bag, starting to walk towards the door.

“Y/N-”

“Stop, Joe. This is entirely unprofessional, and I thought you’d respect that,” you snapped, opening your door and gesturing for him to leave. Joe’s chest tightened, his eyes swam with conflict. He had so many questions that he’d never get the answers to. But one was obvious to him: you’d never return his feelings.

His shoulders slumped, his hands were shoved into his pockets to keep himself from shaking, and he brushed past you. Your eyes momentarily closed, feeling the heat of his body mull over you, the sweet scent of his cologne waft over your senses. You bit your lip, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

He wasn’t even yours and now he’d never be.