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karaeilish · 20 hours ago

Text

★ bet u wanna; s. carpenter ” . ◞

01 from my EICS marathon

★ pairing: starboy!sabrina × fem!reader

⭑ GENRE :: fluff & angst & smut

⭑ SYNOPSIS :: when fans' love and the flashes of cameras become more important to sabrina than the years of love and happiness with you, you have to leave your life and a part of your heart in the house you once called yours. however, this is not the end . . .

⭑ WARNINGS :: smut . sabrina being an asshole .drunk driving . arguments . swearing . alcohol . pathetic sabrina . oral .degradation . kinda sub top sabrina . slapping . ⭑ WC :: 11,4k

⭑ A/N :: thank @dragoneyelashart very much for helping with the text, translation and proofreading 🙏

you called it love. true love, sent down from heaven. it was a blessing. it was you and sabrina. and your souls, bound together in one life. passion rooted from the depths of the earth. complete understanding of each other. the beating of your hearts, merging into one melody. just you and no one else.

you were her muse, her heart, her soul. her songs were about you. every line, every melody, every tune was dedicated to you. it was intimate, tender, sensual. it was dirty, lustful, provocative. it was only for you.

music was her life, her passion, her nature. music was a part of sabrina, sitting somewhere deep under her skin, absorbing her emotions and fears, joys and experiences like a sponge. her magic was that she could pour all the lines accumulated in her head onto paper, then run to you and, with great enthusiasm, consult you about each line, each rhyme, while you sat next to her, covered with a blanket, trying to hide the blush that appeared on your cheeks.

“did you really write that about me?” your head rested on her chest, every beat of her heart pounding against her ribcage, and you could feel the rhythm of your own heart aligning with hers. like a melody just for the two of you. her hand was in your hair, her nails combing through the long, unruly strands that had escaped the braid she’d made for you the other morning.

“are you kidding?” she leaned in slightly so your eyes fell into her field of vision. her pupils dilated, a gentle smile played on her lips. she had probably never looked at you like that before—so lovingly. her heart, a reservoir overflowing with sincere love that could light up the whole world. love she didn’t always know how to express, so she drowned it out in countless songs that told the story of your life, from the moment she saw you—knew right away you were the one.

a regular girl who bumped into her in the library when you both reached for the same book: the seven husbands of evelyn hugo. you were ready to sink into the ground, but the cute stranger giggled, seeing your embarrassment just from a brush of fingers. you couldn’t get any words out, too stunned, but she had no problem making new friends. she smiled and asked your name, just out of curiosity—curiosity that turned into years of dates. and now, she shared every part of her life with you.

“every line is for you, silly girl,” she whispered. her fingertips tickled your jaw as she gently lifted your face and captured your lips in a kiss. soft, but insistent. proving to you that everything she did—every breath she took—was for you.

you blindly grabbed the lid of her laptop, quietly closing it and pushing it off her lap onto the soft sheets, now soaked in the scent of essential oils she always used after her showers. “what are you thinking?” she smiled against your lips. you giggled, making it harder to kiss her back. you didn’t answer. you just closed the distance between you.

you moved, lazily swinging your leg over her lap to straddle her. your hips enticed her, and she reached for the silky feel of your skin. sabrina moaned at the contact, like it was the first time she’d touched you—like she hadn’t spent countless nights learning your body with her mouth. praising it, marking it, whispering “my perfect girl. god, you’re mine,” as her tongue fluttered against your thigh, drawing out unholy sounds from your lips. all for her.

“you know you drive me crazy?” she whispered. her gaze met yours, and you could see endless love in her eyes. she truly believed you were unreal. you enchanted her. “then prove it to me,” you purred, letting your hands fall to her chest, pinning her.

sabrina didn’t need to be asked twice. her hands moved from your hips to your waist as she deftly flipped you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. you blushed, goosebumps rising under her gaze.

“you're so beautiful,” she breathed, like it was a sacred secret.

your hand rose to her cheek, thumb caressing soft skin. she leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“you are so beautiful, my love,” you whispered.

the nickname lit up her face. she pretended to think, but the next moment her lips were on your neck, kissing and nibbling, trailing down your body as you whispered her name and clutched at her soft hair.

your life was filled with moments like these, too beautiful to hide, too intimate to share. you grew used to being the center of her effort, her devotion, her creativity. but time changed everything.

it was all for you, until sabrina looked at her screen and realized she’d written sixteen songs. sixteen songs dedicated to her love for you, her lust for your body, her obsession with your voice and the little whines you made, some of which she’d woven into sinful melodies, describing the positions in which you were loudest. she’d described not just love, but every spark, every glance, every heartbeat.

and you were proud. she wanted the world to see how much she loved. how deeply she fell. you remembered her sweaty palms, shaking hands, signing contracts with music labels, changing songs, editing beats, rewriting lyrics, but never letting go of her soul. the soul she poured into her album. the soul she shared with you.

you remembered holding her hand when the album dropped. the way she bit her lip watching the first listens. the way hundreds turned into thousands, then millions. then her first billion.

“oh my god, oh my god, baby!” you were in the kitchen making mac and cheese, radiohead softly playing in the background when sabrina came running from her studio, laptop in hand, oversized shirt flapping around her knees. she shoved the screen in your face: one billion.

you dropped the knife, pulled her into a tight embrace. her arms wrapped around you, laptop forgotten. tears slipped down her cheeks onto your borrowed shirt.

“i’m so proud of you, my love,” you whispered into her hair, stroking it gently as her body shook with sobs. you didn’t see a famous woman in your arms. you saw little sabrina—the girl who had dreamed of this since she was a child.

she pulled back, eyes red, lips curved in a goofy grin. “i never could’ve done this without you,” she said.

“no, my dove. this is all you,” you whispered, tucking curls behind her ears. she kissed you, gentle, not greedy. a thank-you.

you didn’t need to be her producer to help her. you just needed to be there. be her person. her home. her softness.

“you're my everything. my muse, my inspiration, my art,” sabrina whispered. you felt the tears fall.

“i love you. i love you so much,” you replied.

“i love you, baby. more than you can imagine,” she promised.

you giggled through the tears, falling into each other’s arms again, until you remembered the pasta on the stove.

it was what people called love. but for you, it was more. and you were certain it would never end. but certainty can be cruel.

one billion turned to two, then three, then more. sabrina was everywhere—on every cover, in every interview, on every playlist. your star.

people cheered for your relationship. people tore it down. they said a girl couldn’t love a girl. they said it was wrong. but none of it mattered when her hand never left your waist and her lips never left your skin. you were unshakable. until one party without you turned into many.

she started leaving with a kiss on the cheek and a promise not to wait up. but you waited anyway. you waited until the sun came up, just to feel her beside you.

then one night, the lock clicked quietly. sabrina stood in the doorway—drunk, tired, still in heels. she didn’t notice you at first. you were sitting at the kitchen table, eyes half-lidded, a cold cup of coffee in your hands.

"hey, why aren't you in bed?" she leaves her bag on the floor, not coming to you. she just goes to the bedroom to take off her clothes, which felt heavy, folding them messily in the closet. she didn't really wait for your answer, and you just stayed silent. something inside told you that something was wrong. you just didn't know what it was yet.

her breathing didn’t seem so calm, her hand on your waist felt cold, her body pressed against yours didn’t feel so reliable anymore.

the paranoia was eating you up inside, and sabrina was leaving you alone with it more and more often. allowing it to chew you up more. you kept thinking about the times when you were never apart, not even for a moment. you wondered if she remembered the times when she was afraid to take a breath, not wanting you to take your head off her chest. why? because that wasn't the case anymore.

time passed, and she stopped taking you anywhere at all. each time, she explained that “you’d get bored baby,”. bored. this was her ‘weighty’ argument for leaving you alone for hours for the fifth time in a week, even though it was a wednesday.

she used to not care that you might get bored at these events. she used to tell you that you could leave any time if you wanted to go home, she used to tell you that she would call a whole circus if it would help dispel boredom or amuse you.

it seemed to you like it was all happening too fast. her popularity was growing, and with it, her interest in you was rapidly falling. like she was no longer the first to tell you that she loved you, and your correspondence was reduced to her answering you once for every ten of your messages. like her new songs weren't about you anymore. like she was slipping through your fingers. far away, into her own world of popularity, where there was room for her fans, her new popular friends, but too small for you.

you never really begged her to take you with her. usually you just didn't have to, because she was the one who initiated your time together, taking you with her wherever possible. but now? now everything was different, too different.

time flies, the darkness creeping up quickly, enveloping your bedroom in a quiet gloom, lit only by the screen of her phone. you don’t remember either of you saying a word in the last hour. you lie next to her, silent, the sheets warm from the weight of her legs entwined with yours, but she hadn’t touched you in over twenty minutes. not really. not intentionally. her mind was somewhere else entirely, unrelated to you.

sabrina lies on her stomach, phone in hand, thumb scrolling endlessly. the glow of the screen illuminates her face, highlights her cheekbones. she looks beautiful, effortless, famous. like she's already in a new magazine you haven't seen yet. but yet she looks different. she didn’t look like your sabrina, she was this “new” person. and that's what hurt the most.

you hesitate, but you reach out and gently place your fingers on her spine. just to remind her that you're there. the feel of her skin against yours still makes your heart beat faster. but the same can't be said for sabrina.

she doesn't flinch. but she doesn't dissolve into it either. she just doesn't react. it's like you're something that just... exists next to her. in her shadow.

you swallow quietly. she says nothing again. "what are you reading?"

"just random stuff," she mumbles. a vague answer, not looking up, as if it wasn't so important that she actually talk to you instead of pushing you away with the cold snippets of her words. "i was invited to a place tomorrow. west hollywood." you blink, almost surprised. "are you going?"

she shrugs. casually, without any interest. all her attention is still on the damn phone screen.

"probably. everyone will be there."

you hesitate, your fingers slowly sliding up to her head, burying themselves in her soft hair as you gently massage her scalp. “should i come?”

she pauses for half a second, just long enough to answer you wordlessly. then she blurts out, coldly, dryly, like you don't matter anymore. "it's not really yours, baby."

‘baby’ sounds so wrong, so foreign and out of place, that your teeth ache. you freeze. not yours.

it lands in your chest like something heavier than it should be. you look at her. she still hasn't looked at you. her eyelashes are long, her lips are slightly parted, the line of her jaw is sharp and clean under the light. she's beautiful in the way people write songs. she's beautiful in the way people leave.

you clear your throat, slowly removing your hands from her. "you liked it when i came with you."

"i still love it when you're with me," she says, too quickly. then, more quietly, as if she's trying to soften the sting: "i just don't want you to deal with crowds. with cameras. you hate that."

she's not wrong. you really hate it. but what you hate even more is how she starts talking like the two of you aren't one anymore. like it's easier to shift the blame onto you, saying that you won't like it, rather than her not wanting to take you with her.

"i can handle it," you say, not because you want all this paparazzi fuss, but because you want her. you want to hold her hand as you walk past hundreds of unimportant people in your little world, feel her smile on your lips as she kisses you in front of everyone. you just want to be with her.

she finally glances at you. alien. her eyes are tired. or bored. you can't tell the difference anymore. you don't even know who you're sharing your bed with.

"i'll tell you if i change my mind." she says it so naturally, so casually, like it's normal. normal to make you feel like you mean nothing to her. you want to tell her, you want to cry on her shoulder, you want to punch her for making you feel like shit, but you're tired. just too tired to try and figure things out. you want to sleep. and feel her touch. you want her to remind you that she isn’t becoming a stranger, that she’s still yours.

"goodnight. i love you." you whisper before slowly turning over, closing your eyes and thinking that maybe now she'll put her phone down and wrap her arm around your waist like she's been doing for the past few years. but nothing changes.

"night" she mumbles, shifting position as well. no "i love you too", just a cold and dry "night". your backs lightly touching. the only contact between two people in love. if she even still was in love. you don't know, you just wanted to cry. you wanted to cry so much, but you forced yourself to close your eyes. maybe, when you fell asleep, you would find yourself again in that world where nothing was more important to her than your gaze on her. just for a few hours. just to feel loved and desired again in the eyes of the woman you loved.

time flies, but numerous attempts to talk, to dig up to tell sabrina how you felt or how her behavior hurt you, ended with her sighing heavily and saying that she was too tired today to discuss such ‘deeply moral things’. perhaps she simply didn’t care what was in your heart, or maybe talking to you no longer brought her any pleasure, any emotion at all. it was a dark, terrifying unknown, and the realization of this weighed even more heavily.

at some point, you stopped sleeping together. usually, you just pretended to fall asleep, feeling the mattress sink around you, but there was no warmth. instead, her hot skin was chilling, sending shivers down your spine. you couldn’t resist the tears that rolled down your face, soaking your pillow. you couldn’t tell her, you couldn’t bury yourself in her arms like the fragile little girl you’d always been. you just lay there, silent, feeling like you had no right to let her know that you were breaking into a million pieces, that you couldn’t be put back together.

sabrina had other interests, plans, entertainments. all different, but they had only one thing in common - none of them included you, your presence and everything connected with you. your house became empty, uncomfortable and cold. even when she sat a meter away from you, you felt nothing but a loneliness that darkened the sky, tearing your heart apart.

for the last few months, you haven’t been living, you’ve been existing. praying, hoping that this is just a rough ‘phase’ in your relationship, that time will pass and it will end, that your sabrina will come back to you. the sabrina you fell in love with. the one with a heart that loves you and eyes that shine. the sabrina who would lay the world at your feet if you asked her to. the sabrina who cared about you.

but time passed, and it never happened, no matter how long you waited. you endured, endured for a long time. it's just that you are also a person who has your own limits, your own feelings and your own limits of patience.

the last straw for ‘you’ was your anniversary. three years together. exactly three years ago, she finally pushed the boring book off your lap, took your face in her warm hands, pulling you in for a kiss while your heart was pounding and your palms were sweaty with excitement. all that was left were fragments of memories.

but you didn’t despair, you prepared, you tried. a romantic dinner, candles placed around the kitchen, a perfectly ironed dress that she bought you for your first anniversary. you had no doubt that she couldn’t forget about this day. about your day. the phone was silent, an unread message asking her not to forget to be home by eight o’clock still hung in your messages. you had told her a few days ago, and then repeated it every day, not to make plans. and she nodded her head, muttering that she wouldn’t forget. that she couldn’t forget.

it was now ten o'clock at night. there had been no call from her. the dinner had grown cold, the dress was thrown carelessly on the sofa, the candles had gone out. you had been sitting at the table for what seemed like an eternity. for that entire eternity, your gaze had been fixed on the empty grey wall, as if various images were flashing across it, but in reality, it was just your imagination. your pain, your mind, realizing that this was the slow beginning of the end. the beginning of a moment that would shatter you into a million pieces, unfit to be put back together. you simply waited. silently, quietly, with a heavy heart and a head throbbing with thoughts. you did not say a word until the lock of the front door slowly creaked, signaling the ‘long-awaited’ arrival of sabrina. but you did not move, it was too late to receive her with a warm embrace. your eyes fell on her figure, tired and hunched over.

"why aren't you sleeping?" sabrina says calmly, but the feeling of poison seeping into your blood is too tangible. she doesn't say hello, doesn't say your name, doesn't say 'baby’ like she has for the past few years. a dry and emotionless question. why aren't you sleeping? as if you should be sleeping at 10 fucking pm. she says it automatically, not really caring about your sleep schedule. you hold yourself back from bursting into tears on the spot.

"are you serious right now?" your body finally moves, shifting slightly so that the pale light from the kitchen lamp illuminates your face, drooping, tired, and genuinely upset. there is an utter disappointment in your eyes that could flood the entire country with your pain. "what?" she asks, so carefree and easy, like nothing has happened. like it's okay to be strangers to each other after every touch, every secret and revelation kept under your skin, after all the nights you've shared studying every freckle and mole on each other's bodies, after every precious word that's been in your mind.

you chuckle. no, it's not funny at all, a bitter, dry laugh. you're disappointed, so disappointed in her that you really don't know what else you can do about it.

"today's our anniversary," you say and her movements slow down. the jacket she was trying to hang on the hook freezes in midair for a few long moments. somewhere, deep in her eyes, no longer accessible to you, you can see the sincere reflections of her emotions: fear, pain, surprise. maybe even guilt.

what was going on in sabrina's head was no longer known to you, her thoughts locked in a small box in the attic where you had no place. it was something you couldn't control, something you couldn't change, no matter how hard you tried. sabrina had simply closed herself off, closed herself off from you, not from the rest of the world, as if the one person who loved her so deeply and truly was the problem.

there are ten meters between you. it feels like only ten meters. ten steps. ten seconds that would pass if she threw away her pride and her fear, just came and threw herself into your arms. you don’t ask for an apology, she doesn’t need to say anything, just make you feel that she’s alive, that she’s still here, not just her body but her soul, her love is here with you. but she stands still. not taking a single step forward. only silence.

"sabrina, what's wrong?" your hands slap the tabletop, not harshly, more desperately. your voice breaks, and you're not sure you can hold back the tears you've been hiding for months. you hesitate, but stand up, quietly, not going to her. "can we finally talk? please."

your voice drops to a whisper. you’re begging. you just don’t know what else you need to do to get her to say anything. the confusion in her head is reflected in her eyes, and your heart wants nothing more than to help her, to do anything to make this a little easier for her. you need to know that she still trusts you, that you can talk about anything.

"you're hurting me, okay? i don't understand what's happening to you, to us," you tell her, but it feels like she's not listening. she just stares into space, clenching her right hand into a fist. maybe there's something on the tip of her tongue that will break your heart, maybe you're exaggerating. but she's silent. silent for so long that you can hear your heartbeat.

"i'm tired of being the only one talking in this house, you're not here sabrina" you don't mean for the words to sound like an accusation, but they do. all the pent up hurt seeps through your skin, coating you in a thin shell, and even though sabrina knows you're not trying to hurt her, her eyes turn sad. then she finally speaks up.

"what are you talking about? i'm right here," sabrina says, her voice weary and downcast, and your heart sinks as she feels like she's tired of this conversation before it's even begun. her body is pressed against the wall, her eyes barely able to focus on you. there's a coldness about her. not just mentally, but physically. you can feel it under your skin.

you cover your face with your hands, just for a few moments, but now you just want to fall into the ground, the feeling that you are talking to a wall is getting stronger and stronger.

"no, you're not here anymore, not with me!" you scream, you can't be perfect anymore, you can't lie anymore about not wanting to tear your hair out every time she acts like a total bitch, pretending that you don't do everything to make her feel good, and not even trying to explain it to you somehow. just existing, believing that you love her too much to argue. the most pathetic thing is that she was right, you love her too much, too sincerely and completely, that was your weakness.

"i don't recognize you anymore, brina. i don't feel you anymore. i don't know who i'm going to bed with anymore" the scream quickly fades into a quiet muttering, at some moments understandable only to you, but you don't know what to do anymore, except to dump on her all the words that have been accumulating in your head for the past months.

sabrina looks at you like you're a ghost, with fear, with caution, with pain, with some other feelings that you can no longer explain or try to figure out.

you finish speaking, but she doesn't continue. she stands there silently, thinking about something. a minute passes in silence, then another, and when you open your mouth again to say something else, she interrupts. quietly, but rudely.

"i'm really tired. let's talk tomorrow?"

a phrase you hear for the hundredth, maybe even the thousandth time. a phrase you hate with all your heart and want to throw out the window so much that you never hear it again.

sabrina doesn't wait for your answer, she just starts walking towards the bedroom, trying not to turn around so she doesn't see all the tons of pain thrown on your shoulders. you can't take it, not anymore.

you take a few steps towards the kitchen, and a plate filled with food crashes onto the tiled floor. food flies around the kitchen, dirtying everything around. the plate breaks with a nasty sound, several pieces fly into your leg, cutting through the skin, but you don't care. you don't care anymore. sabrina flinches, stops, but does not turn around. silence.

"i'm tired, sabrina. i can't do this anymore. i'm trying, but—" you try again and again to justify either yourself or her, but she only sighs, the sharp hiss of her voice cutting off your monologue before she even starts speaking.

"then don't do it, damn it"

you freeze, every muscle frozen in place, your breath stopping mid-inhale. it's as if the air itself has thickened, squeezing you. time stands still; even the hum of the world seems to disappear. the room goes silent. the wind stops. the words she just said echo in your mind, reverberating like a bell in a vast, empty cathedral. nothing moves. not you. not the world.

"what?" you ask, hoping you misunderstood her, as if this outcome was obvious, but something inside you begs for this not to be the end.

"you can go, i don't care," sabrina spits out, cutting right to the heart without a knife, and your legs almost force you to rush to her, but you stand still.

"sabrina!"

"i don't love you anymore"

with these words, she leaves. locks herself in the bedroom, slamming the door loudly, but you don’t flinch, you don’t move at all, it seems like you’re not even breathing. you have no idea what to do with your body now. stay here? leave? catch up with her? but there is no answer. the voices in your head have died down. not a single sound in this house. it’s so quiet that it becomes scary, unbearable.

a minute passes, then a second, maybe more, before you finally blink, looking down at the broken plate and your broken soul lying at your feet. a small trickle of blood running down your ankle, staining the tiles cherry red. the adrenaline slowly fades, and you realize that you are only now beginning to feel physical pain, that it was at least a little bit of comfort to the pain of loss inside.

the first full breath feels suffocating and then you are pushed back until the small of your back hits the edge of the kitchen counter with a dull thud. you clutch at your throat as if trying to peel away the layer of skin that is blocking the oxygen from getting in. it hurts. it hurts so much. your chest is torn apart and you rip off her oversized t-shirt, still smelling of sabrina's sweet perfume. it felt like her scent could grow great, branching arms that would wrap around your body until your heart stopped from the pain and suffering.

you take a few big steps until you step over the remains of food smeared on the floor, trying to get to the first aid kit and continuing to stain the washed floors with your blood. you want to cry, you wanted to cry more than anything, but inside you was empty. hollow. your eyes sting, but not a single tear falls from them.

years flash through your head. like the last seven minutes after brain death. every smile, every look, every touch. you remember her voice, the way it sounded when there was no one else in this world but the two of you, when she would give everything to feel your lips on hers again, when you still mattered.

you don’t notice how you walk into what was once your bedroom. sabrina is asleep on her side of the bed, curled up. you don’t breathe. you stare as if your life depended on it, and then you take a few steps forward, but not toward her; toward the closet. you grab as many things as you can carry into an armful. at that moment, the first tears finally start to roll down your cheeks. you realize that this is no longer your home. this is her home. the ghost of your existence will remain in every crack, in every melody, in every breath she takes. but you will no longer be here. your laughter, your smile, your pancakes that you made every sunday. nothing will be. you will be gone.

it hurts not knowing if she'll care, if she'll think about you day and night, regretting that fateful night she pushed you away instead of hugging you as tightly as she could, never letting go. maybe she'll wake up in the morning and sigh with relief that she won't have the most sincere, loving, caring girl she could ever find in her life, maybe that's what she wanted, she just couldn't say it to your face. you don't know. you were just tired of fighting for someone who would never fight for you.

dawn. the suburbs look too beautiful for you to tear your eyes away from the multi-colored sky, shimmering with delicate colors. the morning sun paints your face in golden hues, playing on your skin. but unlike the external beauty, your thoughts are flooded with agate-black colors, not having a chance to shine.

it is hard to gather all your things without sabrina hearing a sound. it is hard to pick up the broken glass from the floor without cutting yourself again. it is hard to stuff a suitcase and a few bags into the trunk of your car, but none of it is harder than the realization that you are leaving the place you called home. more so, the person you called home.

you just hope it is for the best, even if you've never felt as shitty in your life as you do under her gaze that night.

the sun rises higher, the wheels clatter along the road faster. the music drowns out the screaming memories. you know now that you just need to leave, run as far as you can before your heart makes you stop and turn back, staying in a place where you are no longer loved, that’s no longer yours. sabrina made her decision the moment she walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her the same way she closed the way for your future. you made a decision, leaving your past life, your heart, and a part of your soul in that house, in a small box, forever buried in sabrina's hands. you hurt yourself so that later you could become a new, stronger, and less pathetic version of yourself, no longer dependent on someone else's love. this was for yourself.

sabrina wakes to an unfamiliar, suffocating silence. half of your bed is too cold to give any indication that you laid there in the last few hours. she blinks several times, swallowing hard, a strange sensation rising in her throat like a heavy lump. her legs are numb from the cold as she lowers her feet to the wooden floor. she hasn't noticed that your things are missing, not yet.

"baby?" sabrina calls softly, but usually that's enough to make you run out of the kitchen, covered in flour, jumping on the bed and showering her sleepy face with kisses. now, nothing. dead silence.

with each step she takes, the emptiness grows in her chest. she didn't really mean it when she told you to leave. she thought you'd be a little hurt and come back to her, wrapping you in a duvet, even if there was still a gap between you. she didn’t realize that she needed you to be there to function, to breathe, to move on. she needed you more than oxygen, but?

but every shelf that used to be filled with your things is now empty. every childhood photo of yours is gone. the photos of you together feel upside down. the shoes that once lay by the door are gone. the clothes are gone. there is nothing left but the lingering smell of your perfume and the feeling of your hands on her body that makes her feel hot.

"fuck," is the only word that comes out of her mouth when she sees your keys left on the hallway shelf. no note explaining, just your ring, the one she gave you on your last anniversary, telling you that one day you would be her wife. it says more than any words could.

tears begin to sting her eyes, sharp and sudden, but she wipes them away with the back of her hand before any of them can betray her. silence fills the room, but something inside her cracks. guilt, thick and molten, begins to burn its way through her chest, spreading like wildfire with every breath. and then come the memories, not of laughter or warmth but of shadows. of a quiet cruelty that came not from words but from absence. of every moment she turned away instead of reaching out. of every night she fell asleep facing the wall, her back a silent wall between you.

she doesn't understand what is going on in her own mind. there is a fog, a noise she can't name, and instead of trying to voice it to the world, she swallows it whole. somewhere deep inside, buried under layers of fear and pride, she wants to talk, to ask for help, to say "stay." but she says nothing. she chooses silence. and that silence pushes you away, step by step, until one day you simply disappear.

now, standing after all this, pride is the only thing above the weight of the phone she refuses to pick up. one call, still possible, still within reach, could break the distance, soften the edge, maybe even bring you back. but she doesn't move.

sabrina told herself that your departure would be a gift. more space, more time, more air to breathe. the kind of freedom she claimed to crave. freedom for her art, her thoughts, her solitude. but this morning, the freedom feels empty, echoing through the empty apartment like a compulsive desire...

she thought the roar of the crowd could drown out the silence you left behind. that the stage lights could warm the cold void in her chest. that the endless stream of makeup artists, stylists, photographers, applause, would be enough to keep her too busy to remember the way your fingertips used to brush over her cheek when you thought she was asleep.

but the nights were the worst. the nights were quiet.

at first, sabrina was confused. how had it come to this? the sudden emptiness where your presence had always been was like a puzzle missing its final piece. she found herself searching the room, the apartment, the world she’d built with you, half-expecting you to walk through the door, laughing like you always did when she called your name softly. but you never came.

that confusion twisted into something sharper, a slow-burning ache that edged toward anger. not at you, at herself. how had she let it slip so far? how had she pushed you away with silences, with pride, with the kind of stubbornness that told her she didn’t need you, even when every part of her knew she did?

even when the hotel suite was filled with gold and velvet, with champagne bottles popped open and congratulatory flowers littering every surface, the silence still crept in through the cracks. it settled beside her in bed, where you used to be, pressing into her like grief in physical form.

sabrina pressed her face into her palms, sitting on the edge the bed's mattress that felt too large, too hollow. her shoulders shook. first it was a small, stifled breath. then another. and then she broke. her sobs tore out of her throat in sharp, wet gasps as if she hadn’t cried in years, and maybe she hadn’t. maybe she was always too composed, too proud, too stubborn.

now there was nothing left to hold back. she had nothing left to lose.

she cried until her throat was raw, until her makeup stained the pillowcase with streaks of black and gold. until the memory of your laugh, the one that cracked at the edges when you were caught off guard, echoed in her skull loud enough to make her wince.

she had traded everything for this. thought the world’s love could substitute for yours. but it never had your steadiness, your quiet care, the way your arms could ground her in the chaos.

she hasn't written a single song in six months. not a single melody since you walked out of your door. she just can’t pull herself together and sit in the studio, and even when she does, not a single melody plays on her tongue. her head is filled with you, with what she did.

her managers are powerless against the emptiness of her heart, against her goals and will, which slip through her fingers as well as the endless pricks of tears she hides behind smiles and camera flashes, pretending and saying that loneliness has done her good. and no one except herself knows that it is nothing more than a pathetic and cowardly lie.

she changed, a lot, for the worse. sabrina forgot about the warmth of home, about the taste of fresh home-cooked food cooked by you. a warm bed became something she forgot about.

the remnants of your scent on her clothes became nothing but memories and tears, devouring her from the inside. she spends almost all her time outside the house, simply because the weight of the house, where your presence has already dissipated, becomes too heavy for her fragile shoulders. days pass in strange apartments, meals in unfamiliar restaurants, nights in various bars, as if other women and men could replace your touch. as if alcohol would help her hear the sound of your voice somewhere besides the intro of her songs, in which your laughter constantly sounds, sincere, real. something that she no longer feels.

she doesn’t know why the many dresses in her closet have been put away in boxes, trying to block out the memories of the times when you admired every single piece of fabric that fit her perfectly, the times when you pulled out the needles and threads to help her hem her dresses for events because no one would do it with as much love as you did. they all had been replaced with plain gray dresses, drab t-shirts, and ratty baggy pants. why, instead of her bouffant hair, her hair is in a messy bun, tied with one of your old hair ties. why? sabrina doesn’t know. she just… stopped being herself. something just died inside her the morning she found herself more alone than she’d ever been.

the bar is crowded, the music is booming in the stuffy room, pressing on her ears and almost deafening, but sabrina, in fact, does not care at all. not about the friends she left somewhere in the crowd an hour ago, not about the girl who sat in her arms, whose lips left a mark on her neck, as if sabrina belonged to her at this moment. her fingers cling to the half-empty glass of whiskey, which has been in her hands for the last twenty minutes. the ice has already turned to water, diluting the strong alcohol; her fingertips are numb.

"maybe we should go to your place?" an annoying voice next to her ear interrupts her thoughts, forcing her to pay attention to the beautiful brunette, whose hands are spread out over her body, as if they belong there. sabrina instantly feels disgusted with herself; she wants to take another sip, but the girl quickly takes the glass from sabrina's hands, emptying it in one big gulp.

sabrina doesn't answer. she just looks at her for another half minute, as if she said something absurd.

"no, another time," is the dry answer, but sabrina doesn't really care. her pair of green-blue eyes leave the brunette's body, starting to run around the bustling crowd for the thousandth time, still trying to find your silhouette. maybe, just maybe, you'll be there, still as beautiful, still as perfect as you were in her eyes a few years ago.

but the girl doesn't lag behind. her fingers grab sabrina's wrist, and her face takes on a charming frown that is supposed to persuade her but ends up just annoying her.

"come on, baby, let's go. it'll be fun."

sabrina's eyes roll back, her hand instinctively pulling back to her own body, resting on her cold lap.

"emily, don't touch me, damn it."

the girl immediately tenses up, the smile instantly disappearing from her face, replaced by an offended expression. a hard slap lands on sabrina's cheek, forcing her to close her eyes, not from pain, but from humiliation, more likely. not in front of a stranger, in front of you.

"i'm clara, bitch."

in the seconds that her eyes are closed, clara manages to disappear into dozens of dancing bodies, getting lost in space, while sabrina remains sitting there, frozen in the moment. her cheek burns with the hatred that went into that slap, but her thoughts still return to you, as they always do, no matter how much she wants them to. sabrina doesn't even know what to feel... it all blurs together until it becomes a noise in her chest.

every moment she's shared with you over the past six months replays in painful flashes. the nights you stayed longer than you should have, sitting in a silence that begged to be filled. the way your hand hovered over hers but never touched. the way you looked at her like you saw right through everything she pretended to be.

she blinks hard, swallowing the lump in her throat. she wants to hate you. she needs to, maybe that's why she's found distractions in the midst of it all. but all she can feel is the absence, sharp and echoing in her head, of everything she didn't say when it mattered. the absence of you.

her fingers touch her cheek, the pain there easier to understand than the emptiness spreading through her ribs.

she remembers every smile and every hysteria, joy and sorrow, intimacy and distance. she remembers everything. every detail of your dates, your favorite perfume, the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh. but your voice… your voice is like a worn-out tape, unrecoverable. she obsessively listens to old voicemails, watches home movies shot on her old camera, an artifact of a happy beginning. Your image is crystal clear, but the sound is a distorted whisper, a ghost of a memory. The voice she once knew better than her own heartbeat is now slipping away, leaving only a gaping void.

something snaps in her head, like a broken string. quickly, impulsively, leaving no time for rationality. sabrina stands up abruptly, pushing through the dancing crowd, ignoring the outraged cries until her weak legs carry her out of the club. cool air envelops her body, saturating and ventilating her lungs, filled with a mixture of alcohol, sweat, and someone's strong perfume. her hand reaches into the back pocket of her skinny jeans, pulling out her phone.

her phone wallpaper still has a photo of you together, made spontaneously on the roof of the house. you laugh, the sun plays in your hair, and sabrina looks, enchanted, seeing in you not a girl, but a piece of real art, embodied in the guise of a person.that she couldn’t find the strength to change it, couldn’t deprive herself of the sight of your smile.

her password is your birthday. ironic. for some reason, warm tears well up in her eyes. she doesn't think. she just searches for your contact, pressing 'call' until common sense, like a weak flame, breaks through the veil of alcohol that has clouded her mind.

the first beep was followed by a second, then a third, then she stopped counting them. they merge into a continuous, painful sound.a minute passes andthe cold voice of the operator informs that the subscriber is unavailable. her fingers dig into the cold body of the phone, ready to crush it, turn it into fragments — just like her heart. broken.

sabrina knew there was no point in her actions, but she still continued to feverishly press the call button, as if you hadn’t blocked her number the moment you locked the door to your house. as if she knows that in your heart, despite everything, there still remains a drop of that former, all-consuming passion, that stupid weakness for her. hope is a stubborn parasite living in her chest.

she let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her eyelids tiredly with her thumb and forefinger, her thoughts racing through her drunken mind, creating desperate ways to find you. and there was a way. the only way. her chest tightens for a second, and she bites her lip nervously, almost tasting the metallic blood in her mouth.

“please,” sabrina whispers, fingers flying over her phone, heart pounding as she clicks on ‘find my’, remembering how you shared locations with each other when you first moved in together, just to always know you were both safe. your contact pops up first on the list and she immediately clicks on it, a second later seeing your exact location. some remote area on the edge of town that she doesn’t recognize, more like the countryside. you’ve never been there, but that doesn’t stop her for a second.

the faint warmth of the car penetrates her skin, warming her limbs, frozen from stress and excitement. the lights blur before her eyes, her fingers tremble slightly, but she tries to keep the steering wheel steady, periodically checking the navigator so as not to stray from the set route. familiar streets give way to new night landscapes, completely unfamiliar to her, forcing her gaze to drift to the window, absorbing the beauty of the fields, spreading for kilometers ahead. the houses are rare, small, other cars are encountered every few minutes, the beauty of nature is so mesmerizing that sabrina is so carried away by the various views that she doesn’t notice how she drove up to her destination. the computer voice of the navigator informs her of her arrival, and she looks around, quickly finding a parking place. sabrina was worried that there might be additional problems with finding your apartment, but they were resolved in an instant when she saw that the dot on the map is just a small country house. two floors, a nice balcony, a tiled roof and lots of flowers planted right under your windows. sabrina smiles softly, knowing that this was the perfect model of your dream home, which you and she planned to buy when you eventually moved.

her heart in her chest begins to beat painfully against her caged chest, as if trying to talk her out of the idea, but in sabrina's head there was nothing but your face and voice, which she so desperately missed every second of her existence. her legs carry her forward, her hand rises, her knuckles hit the wooden door a few times - silence. sabrina slouches again, louder this time, apparently completely forgetting that the clock is already past midnight.

a persistent, dull sound wakes you up, and a disgruntled sigh escapes your lips before you throw on a white satin robe, wrapping it halfway around, leaving a patch of untouchable skin for anyone to see. you yawn, turning on the light in the hallway. you don’t look through the peephole as your hand tugs on the door handle; the neighborhood is too familiar and friendly to worry about your safety at night. but instead of a friendly neighbor, you see a face, painfully familiar, the one you’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get out of your mind for the past six months.

you immediately try to slam the door shut, not wanting to listen and know what she wants to talk about, but her foot is too fast in front of the door, not allowing you to close it from her. you swallow hard, your fingers are shaking, but slowly, as if under torture, you release the handle and allow the door to open completely, finally looking at her, sabrina. once your sabrina. a smile almost appears on your lips at the realization that she looks as exhausted and tired as you. you just know that you both were terrible at separation.

"how did you find me?" you cross your arms over your chest, goosebumps forming on your skin. either from the cool air or from her gaze, which always made you nervous.

“it doesn’t matter,” sabrina whispers, and you can feel her drunken breath on the air. of course she’s drunk. like she could swallow her fucking pride sober. your heart sinks, but you don’t say anything, waiting for an explanation, or anything that would give away the purpose of her visit. sabrina looks like she’s waiting for something from you. maybe some questions, maybe even an invitation into the house, but you do nothing, you’ve worked too hard on yourself to let the past wash over you like a wave again.

"i need you. i need us..." her gaze drops down, drunk and guilty, but still waiting for your forgiveness, like a lost puppy on an unfamiliar street, but then, more boldly, rises again, meeting your eyes, filled with anger, longing, regret. there was a storm of emotions in your eyes, like a forest fire consuming everything around.

"you said you don't love me, sabrina. you gave me every reason to leave, and i'm not going back." you say it with genuine regret, feeling all the memories you tried so hard to suppress flood your head again.

you only now notice how she looks. it seems that only the style of clothing has changed, but you see before you a completely different, completely not your sabrina, who has changed everything about herself, right down to the manner of communication, posture and gait. you see an undisheveled appearance, carelessly collected hair, you see a mark on her neck that became noticeable only when she turned her head. you can tell for sure - it was left by a woman, a smeared mark of red lipstick still remained on her skin, flaunting next to a hickey.

"you come to my house at night with marks of another woman and ask me to come back? you're a fucking selfish person, sabrina."

sabrina sees where your gaze is directed and immediately shifts uncomfortably, but completely ignores your indignation, as if it's normal, as if you'll forgive her anyway and take her back, like you always did. she looks at you with barely noticeable hope, but after a few moments, a familiar dangerous light appears in her eyes, and suddenly her body is not a meter away from you, but barely an inch, her drunken breath cleans your lips, and as much as you want to, you can't find the strength to push her away and tell her to go to hell.

"i did everything for you," sabrina hisses, you can feel the venom in her voice, caused by the amount of alcohol in her system, her own guilt, and the sense of grief for what you once had. she doesn't need to be told what's going on with her, you just know her too well to ask.

you sigh, biting your lip and trying to take a step back, but her hand finds yours too quickly, not allowing you to move away even a millimeter. her grip makes you nervous, your stomach twists in fear, or maybe your body just remembers her rough touches and how much you loved it, how loudly you begged her not to be gentle and not to stop…

"you're still mine. you still belong to me!" she's almost going crazy, shaking you, her pupils dilating and covered in an invisible film, clouding both her vision and her mind, and you don't know what you're supposed to do now; slap her? slam the door? drag her inside and let her take control of you again?

you open your mouth to say something, to try to push her away, to tell her to go to hell, to show her that she doesn't own you anymore, but sabrina, to your surprise, manages it herself. the mood changes in an instant, her fingers leave your hand, and it feels like there will be bruises under her fingertips; the kind she left on you when you were her girl, her angel, hers. when she wanted to show you were taken, that you were beyond their reach.

"it's your fault. you were too much, sweetheart. wanting my attention when i just wanted to have some fun." her face almost snarls and her drunk body recoils from you, sabrina nearly falls down the stairs as she walks back to her car. your heart screams at her that she shouldn't be driving drunk, that she might get hurt, because your heart still aches and worries for her, like you still fall asleep in each other's arms every night.

there was no logic to her actions, but there was alcohol, lots of alcohol. you never found out how she found you, how she got there, why she decided to show up in your life again. sabrina decided to come herself, she tried to get you back, and then just as stupidly and recklessly threw the only attempt she had into the trash, leaving you with an empty heart and a head full of her.

perhaps that was her goal, perhaps she just really wanted your every thought to be saturated with her, her ghost and her sweet perfume.

you watch her leave, watch her slam the car door, watch her drive away, leaving behind clouds of exhaust smoke that dissipate into the night air. a chill runs through your body, causing another wave of goosebumps, but not because of her presence. in your head, besides her face and her caustic words, there is only one thought — never, ever let her into your life again. not for one moment. you must close this door and put in new locks for which she does not have the keys.

you closed the door, this time turning the lock twice, just in case. you threw off your snow-white robe, not bothering to hang it up, just tossed it on the chair like an unnecessary rag, which is what you felt like now. the warm bed seemed empty and carrying a solid cold through your body, your teeth chattering against each other until you wrapped yourself in the blanket so tightly that it was hard to breathe.

that night you didn't fall asleep, but you knew for sure that leaving her was the only right decision. no matter what, sabrina was no longer in your life, and you were determined that nothing would ever change that...

…until a week passed.

it's friday again, midnight again. the tv hums softly in the background, your body moves smoothly around the kitchen, gathering various ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, because right before bed you had an irresistible desire to cook something sweet. the idyll seemed unbroken until the doorbell rang, tearing you out of your dream world. you hastily wiped your hands from flour with a kitchen towel. barefoot, walking to the door.

the thought of sabrina flashed through your mind. what if she decided to come back again to remind you of herself, as if you had ever forgotten about her? what if she wanted to hurt you again with just her appearance.

"nonsense" you interrupt your thoughts, completely sure that she will not dare to do this twice. but despite any intuition, you rise on your toes so that this time you do not repeat your mistakes and know exactly who is standing behind your door. your eyes widen, your breath catches. sabrina.

you think you're dreaming, but she presses the doorbell again, making you jump at the loud, unexpected sound. she looks better this time; leather pants, a matching leather short jacket, a tight tank top. you're tempted, instantly forgetting everything you told yourself the night she showed up, making you look guilty. you want to open the door, but you stay still, hoping she'll leave on her own.

"open the damn door, i know you're home" sabrina raises her voice, her cheek pressed against the wooden surface, her hand dragging along the door, her fingertips tapping out a quiet melody that only she understands. her voice becomes a little higher, more seductive.

"baby, don't chase me away, please i want to talk... don't make me kick down that door and destroy your perfect dollhouse"

you break down. not because you know she could ruin the interior of your home, but because every atom in your body screams that you want to open the door, you want to give in to her, like you always did.

a smirk plays on her lips as she hears the lock slowly and hesitantly turn and you, in just your underwear and a cute apron, open the door for her.

this time there is a different feeling about her. she does not hesitate, does not look down, she steps forward, closing the door behind her, as if she is the mistress of this place.

"just because i didn't tell you to go to hell doesn't mean you can—" but sabrina doesn't really care. her hand finds the strap of your apron, fingers curling around it, pulling you hard and fast until your lips are crashing together and her tongue is exploring your mouth.

the kiss is messy, sloppy, teeth and tongue, passion and fire, the little guy igniting the heat in your bodies as you moan into her mouth, grabbing her shoulders, either to push her away or pull her closer. sabrina is persistent, rough, not letting you pull away until she's had as much of your lips as her lungs will allow, but no matter how much her dominance permeates the air, those soft, sweet whines escape her lips as you try to kiss her harder.

a string of drool remains between your lips as she pulls away, leaving you in shock for a few more seconds before you realize what just happened. your body jerks away from her, your breath catching again, but this time in outrage. your hand shoots up into the air, and before sabrina can dodge it, your palm hits her cheek with a loud slap that makes her hiss, fingertips pressing against her burning skin.

"i hate you, sabrina carpenter. i hate you with all my heart!" you almost scream, wanting to blame her for all the sleepless nights and tears she’s made you shed, but you only grab her face, quickly and desperately pulling her towards you for another, hungrier kiss.

her hands find your waist in a moment, pulling your body to hers. her palms slide down your back, finding the knot of your apron and untying it in one motion, pulling it off your body. her mouth leaves your lips, opens as she looks at your half-naked body again, now in person, able to touch it.

the way she looks at you with such genuine desire makes some of the confidence return to you, a lazy smile creeping across your face. you can almost feel the air change, her submission returning to her body as she literally falls to her knees in front of you, pushing your body against the wall. her hands move up from your ankles to your hips, remembering every inch of your body again.

“forgive me, my love” sabrina whispers, moving to lower your leg onto her shoulder, lips finding your skin, trailing wet kisses from your knee to the inside of your thigh, teeth bared to leave soft bites on the most tender and sensitive places, making you bite your bottom lip, trembling fingers buried in her lush locks, tied in a low ponytail. you’d be a liar if you said that the sight of her on her knees, submissive, loyal, doesn’t make you drip, wanting more.

"let me make it up to you" she continues to torment your body with her lips, gently lowering your leg and kissing the contours of your underwear, moving higher, leaving a trace of her touch on your stomach, sides, letting her hands feel your body as if you belonged to her. "let me treat you like a queen, let me lay the world at your feet, my angel"

her voice was and will always be your weakness, your death, your gate to hell, into which you are ready to descend together in her, hand in hand.

you push off the wall, don't say a word, just head to the bedroom, knowing full well that sabrina will crawl after you like a desperate puppy who can't live a second without her owner, and you're absolutely right.

your body sinks onto the mattress, your head rests on the soft pillows, your legs spread wide, inviting her.

sabrina's mouth is almost watering at the sight of her. her body instantly hangs over yours, her fingers slowly sliding over your perfect thighs, hovering under the elastic of your lace underwear, her gaze pleading, submissive, waiting for your permission.

"can i? please," sabrina whispers, almost shaking with anticipation, and it's pure joy to your eyes. you love seeing her like this, you love making her need you, need your taste, make her show you her true self; pathetic, willing to do anything to feel the taste of you on the tip of her tongue.

you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at her face, your hand moving down to her cheek, gently stroking it. “what do you want, darling?”

sabrina pouts, pink lips pouting adorably as she leans closer to you, pressing her cheek against the inside of your thigh. her eyes are pleading, her hands are pleading, her every movement is pleading with you.

"please, mama, i need to taste you. i need to make you feel good."

you swallow. the way she talks, the way she calls you, the way her eyes are already fucking you, makes the ice melt and your bottom lip get caught between your teeth. your chest rises with each new breath, and you can't find the strength to do anything but nod, giving her consent to do whatever she wants.

"use your words" sabrina teases, but her lips are already grazing the black bow on your panties. "tell me you want this"

your head falls back against the pillows for a few moments, your hand covering your mouth, preventing the quiet whine from escaping your lips. you can't let her win this game. it's your turn to lead, your turn to be in charge and give the orders.

"i want you to touch me" the tremor in her voice eats you up, but the look in her eyes radiates a residual power that overwhelms her. sabrina doesn't hesitate, her teeth gripping the elastic of your underwear, pulling them down your legs in seconds. you drip, wet, for her, just for her and for her eyes, her fingers, her tongue, all for her pleasure.

she smiles, spreading your legs wider until your cheeks flush from how brazenly and shamelessly she looks at your pussy, so perfect for her. her middle finger presses softly against your clit, running a stripe down your folds, collecting your wetness.

"stop fucking playing with me" you hiss, but sabrina doesn't really care about your opinion, raising her hand and bringing her finger to her lips, sucking slowly and moaning at the sweet taste.

"sorry princess, you just taste so good," she smiles, hands wrapping around your hips as she stops resisting her desires and buries her face in your pussy, wasting no time in pushing her tongue inside as your eyes blindly roll to the back of your head.

you had never doubted sabrina's ability to work her tongue, but now, after months of separation and longing, it was something else. she was devouring you like a starving woman, needing nothing more than your taste, your moans, both your hands in her hair, pulling so hard she growled into your flesh as your nails scraped her scalp.

her head moves wildly, smearing your arousal all over her face and your pussy, her thighs, turning the both of you into nothing more than a desperate mess.

her lips wrap around your clit, sucking, drawing out hundreds of sweet, melodic moans from you that she can already hear in her future songs, that she knows she'll hear every damn day from now on, making you fall apart under her grip.

"sabrina, fuck..." you choke, swallowing hard, feeling her become more insatiable, her addiction to your taste once again, dragging her down to a bottom from which there is no escape. her teeth leave weak bites at the sweetest moments, making you lift your hips in an attempt to get more, your thighs tightening around her head, trapping her in a cage from which she does not want to escape.

your legs are shaking, electric waves of pleasure are running through your body, and you almost have time to tell how close you are before her fingers plunge into your pussy, breaking any barriers and attempts to hold out a little longer.

you come with her name loud and dirty as hell on the tip of your tongue, the hottest whines not escaping her ears and only feeding her ego.

"damn, you taste divine" her tongue spreads across your pussy, collecting every drop with gentle, feather-like movements, savoring them on her tongue like the most exquisite dish

her hands land on the sides of your body, her face hovering above your own. "can i earn forgiveness?" you look at her for a few long seconds, as if trying to tease her.

"you'll have to work hard for it, my love"

౨ৎ tags; @brinasheqrt, @sabrinannlyn @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @itsdopewhatmorecanisay, @too-sapphic-to-function,

#◟⊹ 🎞️ ─ .✦ kara ! ˚˖#kara writes ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ #sabrina carpenter #sabrina carpenter x reader #sabrina carpenter fanfiction #sabrina carpenter fanfic #sabrina carpenter x y/n #sabrina carpenter x you #sabrina carpenter x female reader #sabrina carpenter drabble #sabrina carpenter blurb #sabrina carpenter smut #sabrina carpenter fluff #sabrina carpenter fic #sabrina carpenter x fem reader

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conelluwrites · 3 days ago

Note

I think about reader fucking up so bad, it makes Nam-gyu pause and re-evaluate his entire plan before deciding "I was going to leave with just a billion, but now? Now you're not leaving until we're the only two players left. You're going to split the prize money with me, and then I'm going to marry you."

Do whatever you want with this idea, I'm going to go pour one out for Nam-gyu's dead boyfriend and wonder how tf someone could threaten to marry you

You Shot Your Arrow Through Me

AO3 Link

Words: 3.5k

Requests open!

Warnings: Dark content (canon-typical Nam-gyu misogyny, violence, etc), manipulation, drug use, dry humping (dub con, public), forced kissing, special game doesn't happen, Nam-gyu has a VERY low opinion of reader, Thangyu isn't an explicit ship here but Nam-gyu does hallucinate his voice durign the fic so take that as you will, reader is pathetic (sorry for my strong girls, I projected a lil too close to the sun.)

Other: Longest fic i've done lessgooo. Mind was blank on how she could fuck up since she wouldn't be in the bathrooms for Thanos's death which was my first idea, so I just made it to where she voted to go home lol. Canon Nam-gyu I love you, you absolute bastard. I love the chance to write for more serious topics like this even if I usually just do cutesy type shit, so thank you for the opportunity, I hope it's kinda what you had in mind When I re-read it I feel like I didn't hit all the marks ( • ᴖ • ｡) My apologies if it's not exactly what you wanted.

When it comes to bad days, Nam-gyu has had his share of them. Between drug deals gone wrong, fights in the club, bad trips and wrong drugs at the wrong time, he could never get a break. It was always one thing after another, no slowing down- slowing down meant death and he wasn’t ready for that yet. When he got invited to these shitty games, he knew he had to take it. He needed the money; he needed a way out, or at least an illusion of a way out of his shitty life. Who could blame him? Certainly not any of the other players who seem to look down on him. They’re all the same pathetic type of garbage that he is. The bathroom was a murder scene, he wasn’t even in control of his own actions as he fought and stabbed and mocked. It was like he was just watching himself do it all, some astral projection shit. He could barely register the blood as it decorates his face, his clothing, his hands. When he’s done with the dumbshit on the ground, he stumbles over to Thanos. He doesn’t know how to feel when he sees him convulsing on the floor and gurgling on his own blood. Does it hurt? He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, not when he needs that cross around his bloodied, oozing neck. He grimaces when blood pulses out of his neck as he tugs on it to pull it off. Fucking sick, dude. Keep it to yourself. It’s slimy and wet when he puts it on, sticks to his skin in an uncomfortable manner. Makes his skin crawl. It feels like a hazy nightmare as Nam-gyu stumbles to his bunk. His breathing is hard and uneven, his movements stiff and uncomfortable. He practically hears the whispers of Thanos in his ear, taunting and goading him, calling him that stupid fucking name Nam-su. It eats him alive, makes him want to vomit, makes him want to peel his own skin off and replace it with steel. When she comes into his line of sight, he feels himself lurch forward on his bed and click his tongue like he’s calling a dog. The sudden movement and calling sound isn’t lost on her and she looks at him before looking down. That dumb cunt is really there fidgeting as she walks forward, it aggravates him. Can’t she think for herself, utterly pathetic. “Sit.” He orders, his voice rough. It cuts through the noise, at least in his own mind. The way her head jerks back up and she nods slightly before walking over to him makes him smirk. It’s a cruel, disgusting smirk that only exists for the sleaziest men to do. Perfect lil thing, too bad she’s as dumb as a fucking box of rocks.She sits obediently on the bunk, though she’s all hunched up like a damn shrimp. Makes him stick to his fucking stomach. What’s she got to be scared about huh? He doesn’t take into the account the blood all over him or the way he looks like a tweaker. Why should he take that into account? She’s obeying like a good lil pup despite it all anyway. Hell, this way she looks even weaker than that Min-su loser. When he’s satisfied with her, he gives her a sharp hit on the back and leans back against the wall behind the bed. She voted to go home, of course that cunt did. He couldn’t blame her, a poor thing like her expected to stay and mess up her pretty lil body for more money? It’s laughable, truly. Still ate him alive, made him wanna rip her limb from limb. She agreed to vote O, so why did she think she could get away with that dumb shit?! Must have thought that there were more pussies left over from the last game. Too bad, so sad, she didn’t get to go home. Now she’s stuck here with him. It’s not like she has other options, nah… She wouldn’t rely on that pussy Min-su and by now the players all had their own little groups.

Hey, Nam-su

He grunts, there’s his annoying ass voice again. Smug bastard disturbing him even in the afterlife. Fuck, is he even dead yet or still twitching in the bathroom like some bug. I know you can hear me. He feels himself sweat even more. He wants to tell him to shut up, that his name isn’t fucking Nam-su, but he doesn’t. It barely did any good to say shit when he was alive. Talking to a ghost in front of a bitch, well that’s not a good look at all. He runs his hand over his face, shaking his head. Disgusting.

It’s hard for her to even look at Nam-gyu, he looks like shit. Smells like it too- sweat and blood cling to him like a tight fitting glove. Not to mention the red X on her jacket sticks out like a sore thumb against her green tracksuit, it makes her feel self conscious as he sits staring off into space and murmurs to himself. The room, much emptier than when the games begin, feels like it’s closing in on her. She’s barely even able to process the way Nam-gyu acts, her hands tremble as she busies herself with the bottom of her tracksuit jacket. It’s bloodied, but the blood has long since dried to where it doesn’t rub off of her hands. “Face me.” His voice comes out trembling, making her look up. Her heart is pounding so damn hard that it aches. She obeys, of course she does, moving to where he can see her better. She looks terrified, it’s so damn cute. The way she looks like some lost, scared child. It’s almost enough to calm down the incessant Nam-su, can you hear me, Nam-su ringing in his ears. “Nam-gyu,” she whispers, her voice cracking. She knows she needs to ask for forgiveness, to come up with some excuse, some- some reason he could possibly give. She hit the wrong button? It was just an accident? It was- it was- it was-

“Keep those eyes on me. Stop looking around like you're so damn nervous, it’s annoying.”

“Sorry.” It sounds so weak and small.

“Worthless apology. Keep it to yourself.”

She has to bite back another apology.

His hands tremble as he pops open the cross in his hands. He’s getting real sick of this shit, the way she looks, the way she sounds, the way Thanos’ voice still rings out in that annoyingly happy cadence. He needs something, anything to numb the pain and he isn’t about to pump his limp dick in some whore like her for temporary relief. He takes one pill in his mouth. It’s disgustingly sweet, overwhelming sweet as it explodes over his tongue. His eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, wide and wild as he looks at her. The way her eyes glance down to his lips as he licks them before darting back up. It’s enough to make his chest clench in a twisted way. Another pill, he needs another one. He can’t afford to be feeling like a pussy over such a dumb cunt. It’s even sweeter this time, it makes him close his eyes tight for a second and then they’re wide open again. They don’t take a long time to work, thank fucking Chirst for that. He can’t imagine it taking a normal time to kick in. “You don’t need to do that.” She warns, it comes out without her even thinking. She doesn’t want to feel responsible for him if he overdoses and starts seizing next to her. He grumbles something under his breath, definitely something derogatory- definitely something that doesn’t need to be said.

The world ignites in more vivid colors, though within the confines of the walls it really only makes the green of the jumpsuits stand out even more starkly against the gray walls. The red of her velcro badge sticks out even more though, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. Her tugs on it, then his thumb brushes over the patch. Fuck, it feels good agaisnt his digit. All soft and shit. He licks his dry lips again, patting her shoulder. Hah, shit, guess he really is becoming a pussy over this whore. The way she looks at them with those concerned eyes, her fingers curling up tight in her sleeves, and of course her lips… He wonders what it’d feel like to push his against her, he wouldn’t care if she kissed back or not but he imagines she would feel like velvet even if he smashed his against her so hard that it hurt her. Fuck, he imagines what kinda pretty noises she’d make, if she’s grab onto him tightly or struggle to push him away. He’s so far in his simple thoughts that it makes her concerned.

“Hey, you okay?” She stammers out, leaning in to press a wrist over his forehead. Fuck he’s so sweaty, but at least his eyes follow her movements so he’s okay enough, he’s not so out of it that he’s impossible.

“Yeah, I’m good. Real good.” He gives her a smile he thinks is charming. She gives him a nod, she remembers when he and Thanos were discussing what kind of shit he’s done so surely a couple pills won’t kill him. She’s just on edge, as much as she wants to go home she knows that she can’t lose the last strong person on her team. Sure, she can go to Min-su, he wouldn’t turn her away at least, but if the next game was a team game relying on strength then they’d be a bit screwed.

She’s jerked from her thoughts as he suddenly cups her face. She grimaces at the feeling, his sticky, bloodied hand leaving a mark on her delicate skin. She flinches away, but he just holds her cheeks harder. His short nails dig slightly into her soft cheeks. “You’re not going anywhere, right now you’re mine. Let me see your pretty face.” Let me remind myself what it’s like to feel alive.

I want to spend the rest of my life with this piece of work. Make her my bitch forever, make her permanently tied to me. I don’t love this whore, I could never. Just want her to remember every day of her life that she’s stuck with me- a constant reminder of this hell. I bet she’d love the hell out of that, waking up every day with a reminder of the blood on her hands from voting correctly up to this point. What a way to get married, huh? What a perfect goddamn reason to wife someone up.

Make sure she wakes up every day to see my face, maybe even get some of that dumb fake blood to decorate my face just like this. Fuck, imagine the look on her face- it’d be so damn perfect. She’d never be able to escape the reality we’ve faced. The reality we’ve faced together, the reality we’ve forged with simple votes. Remind her dumbass every day of the people we knew, maybe even dye my hair goddamn purple. Wouldn’t that be sweet? I bet I could even paint a pretty, vivid picture of his damn corpse, tell her all about the gurgles and sputtering coughs. Maybe instead of a ring I could just have her wear his damn necklace.

I wonder if she’d even put up a fight or just accept it right out, no questions asked like some good little bitch. She’d probably look at me with those dumb confused eyes and wonder what the hell’s gotten into me, thinking it’s just the drug talking when this is far better than some singular trip or a thought I’d only have while I’m high.

He doesn’t say anything audibly, he just stares at her like a freak as if he thinks she can read his mind. His pupils are blown so wide, his lips parted slightly and his breath coming out in pants. His mind is racing so fast he can hardly finish one thought before another takes its place. He knows he’s scaring her, the way she bites her bottom lip and looks frantically over his face while taking in every microexpression he makes.

“Stop looking at me like that, it makes you look ridiculous.” He says, rolling his eyes but his words don’t sound venomous in the slightest. He’s too high for that shit, it’s a wonder how he could even get the words out without slurring them so bad it was incomprehensible. “Right, sorry.”

“Again with the pointless apologies. Don’t you ever get tired with that bullshit?” “No.” A simple response, but it’s the honest one. Apologies spill from her lips like a robot at this point whenever someone expresses even the slightest displeasure with her.

He can’t formulate a response that makes sense even to him, what is he supposed to say- No, no, you’re supposed to say ‘yes’ so I can keep seeing those pretty little lips of yours moving.

Her lips, her lips, her lips. They’re so damn kissable, part of him wants to slip one of those lil pills that make him feel so damn good but he’s already taken two… He’s gotta be smart about rationing the rest of the pills if he’s gonna make it through the games without losing his damn mind. He doesn’t even notice he’s leaning in until she pushes against his shoulders slightly. Goddamn his vision is hazy, she must be an angel of some kind surely to not slap him across the face. C’mon, some druggie trying to kiss on someone who’s visibly uncomfortable- get a damn hold of yourself. “Don’t push me away.” He commands, his voice sharper than intended. It makes her curl her fingers into his tracksuit jacket, her swallowing audible. Good girl, real good. How cute of her. He could get real used to this. “Just let me kiss you, just once.” He grunts, leaning in again. He watches as her cute lil eyes clench up tightly like she can will herself to be anywhere else, it’d be cute if it weren’t so fucking pathetic. “Just like that…” he whispers, then his lips touch hers. He imagines it’d be powerful even without the drugs running wildly through his system like electricity rapidly zapping around. But with the drugs? Oh shit- with the drugs- it’s so intense it makes him gasp like some loser pussy. Sure, she’s far from the first person he’s kissed while on some dumb shit, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt a kiss like this. Her lips aren’t pliable, far from it, but it still feels good enough that it makes his heart race. He presses his lips harder to hers as if it’ll make her kiss him back or relax her lips. He growls from the back of his throat, his hands moving to cup the back of her head. His lips move demandingly against hers until she loosens up more. Man, when she loosens up? It opens a whole new world for him to explore. His tongue feels disconnected from his mouth as it moves into her mouth. She’s delicious, he figures that’s gotta be an objective fact. Her resistance, her fear, her everything- it’s perfect. He tries to goad her tongue into moving with his, but he doesn’t care at the end of the day if he’s the only one actively kissing. He wants more- needs more, needs to feel that body of hers moving against his more. He wants to feel her on his lap, wants to feel those fingers curling up into his greasy, sweaty hair. He can’t calm himself down, not after those thoughts start. When they start, they don’t stop. Her riding him, the way her whiny little moans would fill the room full of these damn cockroaches. Showing everyone that she’s his in the best way possible, a way that she would be unable to take back. He knows she’d never agree to something like that and he’d never be able to get away with it, not here. She’s also stupid, but not stupid enough to come with him to the bathroom. Sure, he could threaten her, but he wants her to want him too. The second best thing makes his skin crawl, he’s not some fucking teenager anymore, but it would be better than nothing. “Not so bad, huh?” He pulls away after a moment, his lips turned up in some sort of a bastardized grin. He could eat her up, really. Mark up that pretty skin of hers.

“...” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand. She looks disgusted, angry even, but doesn’t say shit. “Tell you what, girl, why do you sit your pretty lil self down on my lap, hm?” He pats his lap invitingly, nodding down to his legs. “C’mon. Let’s talk.” He purrs, though it’s not nearly as charming as he believes it is. She knows he won’t give up and if she tries to stand up and go anywhere else he’ll just tug her back down on the bed. She relents after he nods his head again, rolling her eyes and climbing onto his lap. He lets out a low groan, adjusting her so she’s straddling him rather than sitting sideways. “Good, good, just like that.” His erection is obnoxiously apparent, he knows she has to be able to feel it against her ass as he stares up at her. She’s the prettiest damn thing he’s seen he decides in that moment. The way she looks into his eyes, her hands twitching and hesitating in the way before her hands settle on his shoulders. One of his hands rests on her hip while the other cups her cheek. It’s some cruel mockery of affection, one that makes her blood run cold. “Gonna move you ‘round now, ‘kay? Don’t draw attention to us.” With that, he begins to slowly rock his hips up. It’s not enough to be visible to anyone unless they’re watching the pair closely, but it’s enough for Nam-gyu’s sensitive cock to jerk and twitch. He won’t last long, the drugs making his sensitive cock even more sensitive. Each movement makes him leak in his underwear. It’s damn embarrassing but he doesn’t have time to care, not when she makes a cute lil gasp.

“Nam-gyu…” She doesn’t explicitly tell him to stop, which is enough for him to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck, and inhale deeply. Her scent is marred by the sweat that is on everyone’s skin, but it’s still so… so her. “Shh. Don’t talk, just let me do this.” Slow, slow, slow, he can’t move too fast and risk her getting so uncomfortable that she starts to fight back or make more noise. He just needs to rut enough to come, he can go to the bathroom afterwards and clean himself up- surely the corpses that litter than damned floor have been cleaned out by now. He grunts, biting into her shirt. All he can think about is how good her panty clad ass would feel against his bare cock, he doesn’t even care about fucking into her at this point, he just wants to feel her skin against his. He knows it's not possible, not yet, but fuck when they’re the final two and they vote to leave and make it out with all that fucking money? He’s gonna celebrate by feeling all of her. He ruts against her harder, he’s close… so, so, so fucking close. “Say my name.” “Wha-?”

“Say. My. Name.” It’s almost hard to understand him with the way he’s biting her shirt and growling silently.

“Nam-gyu?”

There it is, he nods. He wants to hear it again and again and again for the rest of his damn life.

“Nam-gyu.”

Ah- she repeats it, this time without that stupid fucking confused intonation. He buries his face harder against her shoulder and grips her harder. “Again.”

“Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu… Do it for me.”

Fuck, her voice is so breathless and needy. He loves it. He can’t hold back, not when she sounds like that. A low, gurgled groan leaves him as his cock pulses and pumps out spurts of cum. He can feel it spreading through his boxers and to the front of those stupid tracksuit pants. “Yes, for you, for my fuckin’ girl.”

His legs tremble slightly as he comes down from his high, hips languidly rolling up to get him through his high until he’s fully spent. It feels beautiful. It’s perfection, really, heavenly even. It’s a spiritual experience. A few moments pass, “Gonna make you marry me, baby doll. Gonna be just us at the end of this shitshow. Split the money, start a new life, it’ll be perfect.”

#nam gyu x reader #nam gyu #squid game #squid game x reader #fic request

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lostpiewrites · 2 days ago

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Troublemaker 👾

Ft : Karasu Tabito from Blue Lock

a/n : art credits unknown. also inspired by a fiction that is called by the same name as the title. a teeny bit angst but it gets fluff in the end.

synopsis : when you get seperated with your childhood bestie , only to end up together in high school...

You always told people that your favourite animals were crows. People didn't really understand what sth ugly like crows meant for you but never questioned it either. You had a childhood friend whose surname meant a crow. You were born together. In the same day , in the same hospital room , by the help of the same doctor group. You always played with him. He even confessed to you in a childish manner when you guys were 6 , but you thought dating is sth adults do so you rejected him and walked away , leaving him pouting and crying. A few months later , your parents bought a house that was closer to their job and that marked the day you guys were seperated.

10 years later , now you are in high school. There is another boy in your class now , whose surname also means crow. His whole name was "Karasu Tabito". But he doesn't give you the same warm vibe that your childhood friend gave you. So you aren't really close to him. Even tho he tries to be friends with you , you don't really react positively because he reminds you of him but lacks the warm friendship you both shared. So it feels fake.

Also he is the troublemaker of your school. Never has good grades , never clears his name from school fights ,drinks and smokes, is a flirt etc. He has a bad reputation. So you wouldn't wanna be friends with him anyways.

You were in the classroom right now , the first period started about 10 minutes ago. There is a knock on the door , followed by a familiar face. He was late , as always.

"Sorry Mrs. Can i come in ?"

He was disheveled like he didn't sleep in ages. Your teacher looked up and down at him , noticing how exhausted and depressed he look.

"This is the 3rd time you're late to the class this week , Karasu Tabito. Care to explain ? "

He looks down sadly , bites his tongue and swirls it into his mouth , clenching his jaw to not cry.

"Sorry Mrs. We have lost my dad due to cancer. My mom doesn't know how to read so i was dealing with my dad's heritance, will etc."

The room fell silent. The teacher felt bad and for the first time in your life , you have seen a teacher apologize to his student. And everybody understood that he wasn't the way he is because he wants to be. He was working for the last few months alongside of school and his life fell apart emotionally. The teacher let him in and he was exempted from the homeworks for a week.

During the following a few weeks , he was absent in your life. He didn't leave your fave snacks on your table , he didn't irritate you with his cringy ass flirting etc. You felt empty. That's when you realized you actually cared for him more than you thought. So after a few weeks when he got a grip of himself and returned back to the way he was , you started to react and answer to his shenanigans. He was DELIGHTED. So much that he asked for a "friendly" movie date in his house. You didn't know what possessed you but you accepted because hanging out with him started to be fun lately.

"Out of all girls , why me troublemaker ?"

You ask him who was busy trying to arrange the movie set-up with your help.

"You remind me of someone , that's why."

"And who is that someone may i ask ?"

You regretted asking it before you even finished your sentence. It would make things hella awkward for both of you. And it actually did. He stopped for a few minutes , then softly said :

"Nini."

"Nini ? That's my nickname ? WAIT WHAT ?! OMG ITS YOU! Karasuuu ? My little crow ?"

You say happily , jumping on him with all your fours to hug him like a koala. All the emotional tension he had over the years , multiplied by recently losing a loved one , made him like a bomb ready to explode. He doesn't hug you back out of spite and says :

"Took you long enough to realize your childhood friend , dumbass"

But then he gets serious , making you drop the hug and look at him suspiciously. Then he says :

"What are you looking at me like that for ? Isn't it obvious y/n ? I have loved you from the very beginning but i am just an old friend to you right ? You probably don't even remember my first confession... Tbh y/n , to me you're everything but to you it seems i am just a troublemaker."

The tears that he was trying to hold back so hard are now freely spilling out. It sting your heart to see the sadness and betrayal covering his orbs.

"You didn't even recognize me until i told your nickname. Why y/n why ? Am i that unimportant , insignificant for you ? I tried , from the first moment i saw you again after a decade. I tried to play an important role in your life but it obviously wasn't worth it."

The more he said , the more it hurt you. You didn't wanna see his miserable state anymore. You didn't realize you were shedding ugly tears. When you did , you turned around to hide from him. That made him even more upset.

"What's the name of the boy constantly sitting next to you for the last month ? Otoya , right ? You love him , don't you ? I know you do. I heard your conversation the other day. And why did you turn around ? Will you walk away like you did when we were kids ?"

The last sentence broke you. Did it really matter that much of him ? You were kids so you didn't think much of it when you rejected him. Your feelings were unsure but all you knew was that you would never forgive yourself for the unnecessary pain you have caused him. You tried saying sth but your throat was locked up. After a while , you spoke when you could because you weren't sure when your emotions would take the control of you again.

"Tabi i- listen , yes i love him and i know you had feelings for me. I still do remember your confession. But we were just kids and i thought your feelings would drift away when we grew up. Esp considering that we were seperated-"

Your sentence was interrupted when you felt two muscular arms wrapping around your waist. You turned around and he hid his face in your shoulder.

"I hate you y/n, i really do. But idk how to let you go."

He slowly backed you against the wall , making you look around and blink at him rapidly like a deer in headlights.

"Karasu ?"

He takes your hands in his when your back hits the wall , pinning them above your head by your wrist. He wipes his tears with his free hand and holds your cheek.

"You said you love him right ? I am sorry but this time you will be the one suffering. You have probably saved this for sbd that you wanted to choose but i am taking it from you. I don't think i will stop this time."

There was only a few inches between you now that his forehead rested against yours. When you looked into his eyes , you understood everything he went through. You wanted to make it up. So when he closed the gap passionately and sealed your first kiss away , you didn't hesitate to respond to him. At the first contact , your feelings for Otoya vanished. Because you felt the warmth that surrounded your innocent friendship in your childhood again. As you were trying to follow his steps inexperiencedly but eagerly , he smirked at how innocent you actually were inside but also how whipped you were for him. You felt your knees getting weaker just by his kiss alone , so much that he had to hold your waist for you to keep standing. He was doing wonders to your body and you were enjoying every single bit of it. When you pushed his shoulders away harshly , gasping for air like an asthma patient , he chuckled.

"Otoya won't make you this desperate for a kiss , would he now ?"

You glared at him , making him laugh lowly. You never really realized how attractive and charming he could be if he wanted until now. You joked while panting :

"You were a public bathroom tap a few minutes ago , what happened ?"

He laughed out loud. Unguarded and happy , a big contrast to a few minutes prior. He flicked your forehead first , making you wince and rub it. Then pecked the same spot to "soothe the pain".

"You made me crazy like you always do and i think now i know who is the one you really like".

#blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk fic #karasu tabito #blue lock karasu #bllk karasu #karasu tabito x reader #karasu x reader

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malueion · 8 days ago

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this fucking creature becomes more unhinged each passing episode

#tadc #tadc bubble #top ten most unhinged bugs in cinema #this was supposed to be a simple compilation of bubble moments but then i sorta got carried away with the editing #you've heard of sharing the same brain cell #now get ready for sharing the same tongue

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intromortal · 1 month ago

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ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

#✷ mortal works #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jay smut #jay x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong x reader #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut

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luvth0t · 1 year ago

Text

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks.

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst #lando norris #f1 angst #f1 one shot #lando norris fluff

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chiscaralight · 9 months ago

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cw: shy!choso x reader, prone boning, college au. sukuna and gojo ver linked at the bottom!

college athlete!choso who’s an absolute beast on the field. everyone loves to watch him play, it’s almost like a movie every time he’s out for the game! he’s always ready to charge headfirst when it comes to his sport, and he won’t let anyone take it away from him.

college athlete!choso who doesn’t talk to anyone outside his teammates and a select few. it’s fair anyway, a lot of people only want to speak to him bc he’s deemed important, not like they want to know him.

college athlete!choso who’s also known for his aloof personality. but when you’re partnered up for an essay, you soon realize everyone is painfully wrong.

college athlete!choso who’s the most shy thing ever! it almost breaks your heart how he starts to stutter and avoid your eyes while you work out the details, just humming in agreement and you swear he almost passes out when you ask for his number.

college athlete!choso who’s practically about to fall off the edge of your bed, trying to sit as far away from you as possible. it’s like trying to coax a hostile cat to eat food you brought it, but with the way you’re looking at him, choso is sure he wouldn’t mind you putting him in your mouth just a bit.

college athlete!choso who finally warms up to you after a couple of evenings together. there’s still significant distance between the two of you, both physically and emotionally, but he’s more open now. he can actually hold a conversation with you now, and he thinks you’re the coolest! he can’t get you off his mind at all, whether he’s walking to the field hoping to spot you on his path, or secretly searching for you in this shared class.

college athlete!choso who jerks himself off to the thought of you after practice, making sure the locker room is empty as he moans out your name, wishing it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

college athlete!choso who forgets he’s supposed to meet up with you, cussing himself out when he sees your texts and missed calls. you’re super understanding though, and you tell him to take his time or you can reschedule if it’s better. but he assures you he can be there in less than ten minutes.

college athlete!choso who’s at your door in three minutes, panting and soaked. you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower water or if it’s sweat, but your eyes are more focused on the outline of his exposed arms and damp shirt clinging to his frame. he’s babbling, saying sorry for wasting your time, he ran because he couldn’t find his keys! but his apologies are hitting deaf ears, your mind is definitely on something else. and he notices.

college athlete!choso who’s eyes widen when you pout, shyly asking him to kiss you. this is something you’ve been trying to avoid since the first day he sat in your room, but it’s so hard to hold yourself back when he looks like this!

college athlete!choso who presses his back to the door, holding you in his arms while your tongues tangle. he’s moaning around your tongue, shamelessly feeling you up while you grind your front against his hardening bulge. he’s almost embarrassingly loud, but each sound he makes sends vibrations straight between your legs.

and you’d have to say the same for yourself, fingers dragging down his arms, around his neck, across his chest. but the real kicker is when you softly place your hand against his abs. he’s unconsciously flexing beneath your touch and it draws you in like magic. maybe he’d have good core strength? you’re the one who’s going to put college athlete!choso to the test.

college athlete!choso who passes your test in flying colors, prone boning you with an ease that has you seeing stars. you’re face first in the sheets, cries muffled by the pillow your head rests on while he slams into you like he hates you, much different from the way he asks if you’re okay after a couple of thrusts. you can’t even get your head up! and he’s getting worried but you guide his hand towards your neck, struggling to place your head in the crook of his elbow before telling him to squeeze.

college athlete!choso who gets off on the way your eyes roll back and your voice gets whinier. his hips falter just a bit when you call out his name in that voice, and if not for how good you felt, you would’ve teased him for the way his cock just twitched.

college athlete!choso who can’t face you in class the next day. you’re a little sad when you don’t see him, so you decide to check the field later in the day.

college athlete!choso who freezes up when he sees you waving from the stands. his teammates don’t miss his change in demeanor, and they start to laugh and nudge him in the side, teasing him about the cutie cheering him on from the bleachers.

college athlete!choso who comes up to you during their break, face still blazing hot from the exercise and the memories of you from last night. he says he would have hugged you but he’s insanely sweaty right now. not like you would’ve minded, that sweaty body was all up on yours last night like it was nothing!

college athlete!choso who gives you a nice long kiss before he leaves. trying to drown out the sounds of his team hollering at the two of you from a distance. you break the kiss with a laugh and tell him he can come over later if he wants.

college athlete!choso who forgets his keys and runs all the way to your place for the fourth time this week. he doesn’t mind though, he just thinks of it as prep for the calories he’s about to burn with you in a couple of minutes.

sukuna ver here!

gojo ver here!

geto ver here!

choso pt2 here!

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x reader smut #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x you #choso my beloved #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut

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luvyeni · 2 months ago

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crazy questions ๑. ( 희승 - 제이크 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── who would’ve thought your random questions would lead to you being fucked by your best friends ..

( 対 ) lee heeseung and sim jaeyun + fem. reader wc. 3k genre smut · contains! unprotected sex , a little mlm ( their tongues touch ) , oral mature content. / back to library

heeseung and jake. they were your best friends , your roommates, they were use to you saying odd shit ; so normally they turned a blind eye with just a head shake — ‘that’s just yn , she says weird shit all the time’ they’d say when someone would ask why they didn’t flinch when you said crazy obscured things.

but this time they couldn’t let it slide; especially when you said it so smoothly they both thought they were sharing some weird dream. “is it possible for two dudes to eat a girl's pussy at the same time?” you said with the blankest face ever. “what crazy choices of words to form a sentence.” jake said , his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “why are you asking this?” heeseung asked.

“well i was watching a video — it was porn.” you started. “and there were two guys and they were eating the girl out at the same time , but they were both in between her legs.” both boys were now turned to you , looking at you and then at each other. “what porn are you watching?” jake asked. “it just didn’t look comfortable , her legs were so spread out and the boys looked uncomfortable and would flinch every time their tongues touched.” you said. “like if you’re gonna eat out a girl together you can’t be afraid to do a little tongue touching , it’s not that much space.”

“i literally have no idea how to answer this question.” heeseung said; for the first time you’ve left them speechless with the shit you say — “obviously it’s possible seeing as you’ve seen a video.” jake said. “but comfortable? i’ve never eaten a girl out with another dude before.” he said. “but you do have a point you can’t be scared of tongue touching the other guy.” you shook your head in agreement , heeseung laughed at the both of you. “what is wrong with both of you.”

“would you do it seung?” you asked. “eat a girl out with another dude?” he let out a light huff like chuckle. “are you okay with a little dude on dude tongue touching?” you said in a teasing tone. “i would.” jake spoke up. “we know you would , you have a lot bisexual tendencies that we’ll address later down the line.” heeseung was staring you down now. “what?” you asked nonchalantly — like you didn’t just ask your best friends the most outlandish question. “it was just a question , i didn’t ask you to co-sign a loan.”

“i think he might be thinking about it.” jake said. “or maybe he’s done it before.” heeseung rolled his eyes. “heeseung.” you drew out his name. “have you done this before , who was it with? sunghoon? jay? oh my god! who?” you were genuinely intrigued now. “i haven’t done it like that with anyone,” he said. “did he just admit to us he’s had a threesome before?” you asked jake. “i think so , did you know about this?” jake shook his head no. “it wasn’t me , must’ve been sunghoon.”

“it was jay.” you both gasped. “you and jay had a threesome?” you basically shouted. “bro why didn’t you tell me.” jake said. “because it happened like a week ago and we were all drunk.” he said. “it just happened me and jay haven't even talked about it.” he said. “why is it awkward , did you two kiss and it made your dick twitch a bit?” a pillow was tossed at your head. “umph-” he picked it up ready to hit you again. “shut up.” you were doubled over in tears; holding your stomach laughing as he continuously hit you with the pillow. “okay , okay i’m done , i’m done.” you held your hand up. “stop whacking me with that damn pillow and get your heavy ass off me.”

you wiped the tears from your eyes. “i can’t believe you had a threesome before jake; if anything i thought you two would do that together.” you said coming down from your laughing session. “i always thought you two would be the ones to do that together.” you shrugged. “us?” jake said. “yeah , i mean you two always spend everything waking moment together so i assumed you two would definitely fuck the same girl.”

“you think about us fucking another girl together?” heeseung said; jake smirked. “i didn’t — is that why you looked that up; wanted to see if it was possible and if we could do it?” jake spoke up. “i don’t like how this turned to me.” you said feeling the shift in the air. “why are you so shy now? you were so bold telling us the porn you goon to.” “it was just a question.” you mumbled , heeseung chuckled. “you were curious; so it had to be a thought you’ve had before am i wrong.”

well he wasn't wrong; maybe the thought had crossed your mind a few too many times for your liking. the look on your face told them everything they needed to know. “ah not another girl.” jake said. “you.” your eyes widen. “no-no that’s not — we’ve been friends for years we know when you’re lying.” he said. “you don’t know anything.” you said trying not to sound like you been caught even though all three of you knew you had. “i thought about it.” heeseung said. “can’t think of a day i didn’t think about it for even a second.”

“what?” before you could even say something about it jake spoke up. “me either , i thought about it the moment you said something earlier.” the look of shock on your face made them laugh. “what , you walk around here shorts tiny as fuck and without a bra , saying sexual shit all the time like it’s normal.” he said. “i’m your best friend but like i’m also a man yn.”

“not to mention these walls are thin as fuck and your room is right next mines , and let’s just say that pillow you bite down on isn’t helping at all.” heeseung said, you gasped jake quickly followed up. “fuck the thin walls i can hear her down the hall , she’s fucking loud , is there ever a day you give yourself a break?”

“well you listen , you don’t have to.” you said turning to heeseung. “and i don’t say anything when you walk around here without underwear like a slut.” he giggled , it was the most attractive thing you’ve heard in a while. “you think i don’t see you looking , you’re not subtle at all , just how we both know you feel jake staring at your ass all the time.” clearly there was some kind of tension that had been looming over the apartment that finally boiled over. “and we never said we didn’t like hearing you , just said we hear you; every single night , and now we finally know what you’re in here watching and what you’re thinking about when you’re in here stuffing yourself with your fingers.”

you bit down on your bottom lip; your thighs pressed together tightly; once again heeseung calling your bluff. “you’re getting turned on?” jake catching on , his eyes trained on your thighs waiting for the slightest bit of movement. “are you?” you were ready for them to get out so you can get rid of this new ache in between your legs. “okay , time to get out.” you said. “why aren’t we having fun?” heeseung pouted. “or is it because you want turn on your porn and goon out?” it felt like they were teasing you now , you whined. “fuck you heard that?” jake said. “told you sounds even better up close , when it isn’t muffled by a useless fucking pillows.”

heeseung tapped your bare thigh; his eyes darker than they were before — full of lust and hunger. “you gonna be a good girl and open them for us or am i gonna have force them open?” he gripped them , this is where you could’ve told them no , and they’d listen you could tell their eyes were also looking for a sign of rejection. but you’d also be a idiot to turn them both down; which is why you don’t say anything, slowly opening your legs. “you said you want to see if it’s possible?” his eyes flickering to jake who was looking at the both of you , mouth dry as he watched. “let’s see.”

jake got the hint; heeseung pulled you down so you were laying on the bed , pushing your legs far apart so they both could sit comfortably in between your legs; you let out a moan , then stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, you were surprised on how flexible you were. “moaning already and we didn’t even do anything yet.” jake who’s eyes hadn’t left your clothes lower region , brought his fingers to your clothed cunt , pressing down. “let me take these off , let’s see that pretty pussy.” you nodded and he quickly grabbed the waistband, pulling them down. “look at that.” heeseung kissed the inside of your thighs. “soaked right through these panties.” pulling them down your leg , your lower half now bare to them both.

“look at that; she’s fucking dripping.” heeseung smirk. “how long have you been thinking about this?” you whimpered , the light feeling of their breath on your cunt. “fuck just touch me.” you huffed frustrated. “oh someone is fucking needy , not even a please.” jake chuckled. “real ungrateful, here we are trying to worship your pussy and this is how you treat us.” heeseung pouted. “i’m upset princess , i don’t think we should give her anything jake.” “you’re right; she doesn’t deserve it.”

“n-no please touch me.” you shifted your body a bit , heeseung holding you down. “say it again.” jake smirked , you would’ve slapped him if you weren’t in this predicament. “pl-please touch me.” you repeated. “please.” heeseung hummed in satisfaction. “i think that’s enough , i feel like she deserves a reward right?” jake nodded. “i think we should test her theory out yeah?” heeseung agreed. “show her that it’s possible right?”

you felt the feeling of both their tongues on you, gasping out. “oh fuck.” you moaned; head falling back against the pillows. “oh my god.” you’ve been eaten out before , but this new feeling of both of them on you was addicting; eye rolling in fact , you had no clue what to do with your hands , but they eventually found themselves tangled in both of their hair yank at both their roots as they licked at your folds.

jake was definitely enjoying himself; just as he thought he would, jake never doubted his attraction to you , he was attracted to you the day you moved in; heeseung as well. they often talked about it together , the things they’d do to you, hearing you moaning and whimpering at night when you touched yourself , of course they've touched themselves to you , both thinking about what it would be like to have you , touch you , taste you — to fuck you. hearing you ask that question just set them both off , they had to have you.

they both were so deep into it , they didn’t even flinch like the guys did in the movies when their tongues touched; if anything it made it hotter to them , hearing your moans up close , not being blocked from the walls , tugging at their hair as you shout out a mixture of both their names and curse words. “fuck , fuck i’m about to cum.”

you felt the stretch of a finger entering your cunt. “so fucking tight , how can you take a cock if you’re struggling to take a finger?” jake cursed. “she’ll take what we give her.” heeseungs burned holes into your skin with his stare , wait for jake to add another finger pressing on your clit. “right.” you nodded. “yes yes , fuck!” you shouted. “you gonna cum yeah?” you nodded. “gonna make a mess.” jake switching between fingering you and licking your folds , heeseung staying up to rubbed your clit , watching your every movements. “i wanna see you cum.” he said biting his lip. “go a head, cum.”

a loud moan ripped from your throat as you came , your legs unable to close , which encouraged them to keep going. “ca-can’t , too mu-much.” heeseung pulled his hand from your clit , slapping in between your tighs , jake had to be pulled away. “calm down , gotta give our girl a break here.” jake’s lips were glossy , licking them. “sorry , she just tastes too good.”

“did you like that?” heeseung asked , you nodded. “it-it felt good , but my legs are a little sore.” you giggled , heeseung let your legs down , jake moving out the way. “it’s achievable for sure , but fuck after a while i thought i was gonna lose feeling in my legs.” you could feel heeseungs hard on pressed against your thigh. “seems like i wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it.” you grabbed his cock , he groaned. “was it me or was it jake.” he scoffed , grabbing both of your wrists. “you’re such a fucking brat.” he turned to jake. “lets do something about that yeah.?”

your shirt was quick to go along with their clothes , heeseung pushed your legs open once more , jake on the side of you. “get a look at these.” the aussie boy grabbed your boob. “been waiting to see these for months now , real nice.” he gave your bust a squeeze, you didn’t have a chance to even react to that because heeseung was pushing himself past your folds. “fu-fuck you’re so tight.” he groaned. “such a tiny pussy -fuck- you’re choking my cock.” cursing as he stretched you out. “heeseung fuck!”

as quick as he entered you , he was moving; his hips slapping against yours. “come here.” jake guided your hand to his cock. “lets put that pretty mouth to use.” helping you guide your mouth down on to his cock. “oh fuck.” he sighed , throwing his head back. “such a good cock sucker.” he held the back of your head , using your mouth to get off. “god damn , such a good cock sucker.” he pushed your head down , gagging on his cock.

it was pure pleasure that you were feeling; heeseung pushed your legs to your chest as he pounded into you. “oh fuck such a good cocksleeve huh , letting us use you like this - fuck - is this what you think about when you’re in here alone?” he grunted. “playing with your pretty pussy while thinking about your best friend use you like this.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “look , we’ve fucked her dumb.” jake still using your mouth. “sh-shit , should’ve used this mouth long ago.”

“wait until you feel her pussy , fuck i’m in heaven.” you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you; unable to warn them , your legs shaking as you came— no you squirted , all over heeseungs lower half. “of fuck , she squirted.” he pulled out , stroking his cock. “fu-fuck!” he came directly after ; painting your stomach white. “shit that was too fucking hot.” he huffed.

jake came not soon after; pushing your head down. “gonna let me cum in your mouth? fill your tiny throat with my seed?” you nodded. “good girl -fuck- then take it all the way.” he held your head down, groaning. “ah fuck.” his cock twitching as he came. “sh-shit.” he pulled out , tapping his wet cock on your cheek. “fuck , i’m still fucking hard.”

it didn’t stop there either , the three of you went at it for what felt like hours. sometimes one of them would take a break and you and the other would go at it , it was like the three of you were trying to drain each other of everything you had — and you did , the known but unknown tension in the apartment fueling the three of you until it didn’t any more and the three of you passed out right then and there , covered in sweat; the room smelling of sex.

you woke up last , the sheets were changed; your body covered in a shirt that wasn’t yours and a pair of panties. you slowly got up, the consequences of having your legs open for that long definitely caught up with you in your sleep , trudging down the hallway to the living room. “oh she’s risen.” jake said with a smile. “you’ve been out for 4 hours , i was certain you were gonna sleep the night , really did a number on you.” heeseung smirked to himself. “oh haha , laugh it up , sorry i don’t have the fucking stamina of a high rhino like you two.”

“us two?” heeseung said. “baby you’re the one with the never ending stamina.” he said as you sat down. “we were trying to keep up with you.” jake nodded in agreement. “at one point i was about to tap out completely.” your face was hot. “you’re either really freaked out or you really wanted to fuck us” you scoffed. “you definitely have many talents.” heeseung said. “you were real eager to show us them too.”

“says the only who was overly excited to play tongue twister with his best friend in between my legs.” you bit back. “why am i in it?” jake said. “you and that mouth , gonna get you in trouble.” he said. “really?” jake stood up from the table. “count me out this time , i have nothing left in me.” he left the both of you at he table. “i’d rather tap out now , than embarrass myself by shooting blanks later , you two have fun.”

heeseung burning holes into your skin once again. “what are you looking at?” he didn’t say anything, just got down on his knees under the table opening your legs. “st-stop im sensitive.” you whimpered. “good.” he said.

“i want you in tears by time im done this time.”

©️LUVYENI

#heeseung x female reader #heeseung fic #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim fic #jake sim hard hours #jake sim hard thoughts #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

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skzstarl0ver · 2 months ago

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One Bed, Two Problems

Jeongin x reader / enemies to lovers / only one bed / smut / possessive!Jeongin

**involves!!** sex, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, Insulting / pain kink, cursing

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You don’t remember when exactly it started — this thing between you and Jeongin.

Maybe it was that first time he rolled his eyes at something you said during a game night, or the way he’d always challenge you on the most mundane things. What movie to watch. Who made the best ramen. The right way to fold laundry. Every moment between you turned into a petty argument — but the weird part?

It never really pissed you off. It exhilarated you. You craved it.

Which is why this trip with the friend group was already risky. You didn’t need to be around Jeongin for seven straight days, sharing vans and meals and long stares across group dinners. But you never expected this.

“We have a little mix-up in the booking,” the hotel receptionist said sweetly. “Looks like… one bed in the room for you two.”

Jeongin laughed. Actually laughed. And that smug little dimple popped.

“Perfect,” he said. “Y/N snores anyway. I’ll suffer through it.”

You spun toward him. “I do not snore.”

“Sure, baby. Whatever gets you through the night.”

You could’ve punched him right there. Instead, you grabbed the key and stormed off.

Now it’s 12:37 a.m. and you're lying as close to the edge of the bed as humanly possible, gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline.

Jeongin is on the other side — same position. Same tension. Same awareness.

Every rustle of the sheets feels like an earthquake.

You toss onto your back and exhale sharply. “Can you stop moving?”

“I’m not moving.”

“You’re breathing loud.”

“It’s called being alive, princess.”

You groan, covering your face with your arm. “I hate this.”

He chuckles under his breath, voice low and far too hot in the dark. “No you don’t.”

You peek at him. “Excuse me?”

“You love fighting with me,” he says lazily, one arm tucked behind his head. “You’d be bored if I stopped.”

You roll your eyes. “Trust me, I dream of silence.”

He hums. “Do you dream of me too?”

That silences you.

For a full beat, neither of you says a word.

“…You wish,” you finally murmur.

But it comes out too soft. Too shaky. And he hears it.

He shifts, and you feel the bed dip as he turns onto his side to face you.

“You know what I think?” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You don’t breathe.

“I think you hate me because you can’t stand how badly you want me.”

Your chest tightens. Your heart is racing, hammering. You can’t look at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, voice brushing the shell of your ear, “if I was flattering myself, you’d be begging already.”

You turn, ready to throw another insult, but the words die the second you meet his eyes.

God. His face is so close. Lips parted. Eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. That cocky confidence is still there, but it’s coated with something else now.

Desire.

Raw and real and hungry.

“You want me to shut up?” he whispers.

You swallow hard.

“Then make me.”

You don’t know who moves first — maybe both of you. Maybe the universe finally snapped and said enough — but your lips crash like a storm.

It’s not sweet. It’s heat. Tongues, teeth, years of teasing and tension unraveling all at once. His hands tangle in your hair, your fingers clutch his hoodie like you need something to anchor you. Every kiss is a battle and a surrender all at once.

When you break apart, breathless, his forehead presses to yours.

“I knew it,” he whispers.

“You’re so cocky,” you pant.

“You like it.”

You kiss him again just to shut him up. This time slower. More desperate. You feel his hand slide under your shirt, warm against your skin, and your breath catches.

“I should hate you,” you whisper.

He smirks against your throat. “You do.”

“But I want you.”

“I know.”

You don’t remember who yanked whose shirt off first.

All you know is that one second you were clawing at each other’s clothes like animals, and the next he had you pinned to the mattress, body heavy over yours, lips swollen from kissing you stupid.

“You gonna whine the whole time?” he growls, dragging his mouth along your jaw.

You squirm beneath him. “Depends. You gonna fuck like you argue?”

His smirk is pure sin. “You want me to be nice?”

“God, no.”

He grins — but it’s feral now. Dangerous.

“Good,” he mutters, “because I don’t do nice with brats like you.”

His hand wraps around your throat — not tight, just enough to make you freeze. To make your breath hitch.

“Always mouthing off,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Always so fucking annoying. You need to be put in your place.”

And then his mouth is on yours again, biting, claiming, owning.

You gasp as he flips you over, chest to the bed now, his weight pressing you down. You feel his teeth scrape your shoulder, and you moan — loud, shameless.

“You like that?” he whispers, fingers sliding between your legs. “Didn’t think a stuck-up princess like you could be so wet for someone she ‘hates.’”

“I do hate you,” you breathe.

He laughs against your skin, nipping your ear.

“Liar.”

You feel him rutting against your ass, hard through his boxers, and you push back just to feel him groan.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So desperate. So cocky all day, and now you’re just begging for it.”

You try to turn your head but he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking it back — just enough to make you moan again.

“Say it,” he growls.

You shiver. “Say what?”

“That you want me. That you need me.”

You grit your teeth. “Never.”

He laughs again — dark and low and absolutely wrecking you.

“Fine,” he mutters, lining himself up behind you. “I’ll fuck the truth out of you.”

And when he thrusts in, hard and deep, your brain short-circuits.

You cry out into the pillow, hands clawing at the sheets. He doesn't give you time to adjust — and you don’t want it. You want it raw. You want it rough. You want him.

Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. He leans down, chest to your back, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

“You take me so well,” he growls. “Bet you’ve thought about this every night after we argued, huh? Bet you played with yourself thinking about how good I’d fuck you.”

You moan, helpless.

“Oh my god—”

“What was that?” he taunts. “No more snarky comebacks now?”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit while he keeps thrusting. You arch like a live wire, crying out for him. Your entire body trembles.

“You close already, baby?” he whispers in your ear. “I’m not even close to done.”

You choke on a moan, tears pricking your eyes.

“Fuck, Jeongin—!”

“Say it,” he demands again, voice sharp.

Your pride is barely holding on — but your body? Your body is screaming for him.

“I need you,” you finally cry. “F-fuck—please—Jeongin—”

He groans at that, slamming into you harder, relentless. You’re so close it’s painful.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, watching your body quake beneath him. “My bratty little problem. So fucking perfect like this.”

His hand grabs your jaw, turning your face toward him just enough so he can kiss you while you fall apart.

And when you do, it’s earth-shattering.

You moan his name like a prayer, like a curse, and he follows with a low growl of your name, burying himself deep, shaking against you as he loses control.

The room is filled with panting, sweat, tangled sheets, and the aftershock of a storm you both saw coming — but still couldn’t prepare for.

You're still catching your breath when he pulls out, breath heavy, hand sliding slowly down your back. You're both slick with sweat, clothes tossed somewhere across the room, and your thighs are still trembling.

You don’t speak — you can’t. Your brain is fogged with pleasure and chaos and something dangerous that tastes a lot like need.

Jeongin lies beside you, propped on one elbow, staring. His skin is flushed, hair a mess, lips red from kissing — and biting.

“Didn’t think you’d actually say it,” he says finally, voice rough.

You blink at him.

“Say what?”

“That you needed me.”

You scoff, rolling to your side, back to him. “Shut up.”

He smirks — you can hear it.

“You’re such a brat.”

You’re about to shoot back something petty — “At least I’m not obsessed with me.” — but then he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your back.

You yelp. “Jeongin—!”

“I’m not done with you,” he growls.

Your breath catches. Your legs fall open without permission.

“You came so pretty for me,” he mutters, dragging his fingers down your inner thigh. “But I want to see you fall apart again. I wanna see how messy I can make you.”

You swallow hard. “Again?”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, “you started this.”

And then he’s kissing you again — deeper this time. Less anger, more claiming. Like he needs to remind you who you just begged for.

His tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers slip between your legs — still so sensitive, so soaked — and you whimper instantly.

“Still wet for me?” he teases.

“I hate you,” you breathe.

He smiles darkly. “No you don’t.”

Two fingers push in deep. Your back arches. You gasp.

“You love this,” he says, voice like gravel. “Love being split open by the guy you pretend to hate.”

He leans in, mouth brushing your ear.

“You like when I treat you like a toy, don’t you?”

You whine.

“You like it when I ruin you.”

You don’t answer — can’t — because his mouth is moving lower now, trailing kisses down your chest, nipping a path along your ribs, licking the sensitive spot just beneath your breast.

Then lower.

And lower.

And you already know what’s coming.

But when his tongue touches you — slow, deliberate, possessive — your hips jerk off the bed.

“Fuck—Jeongin—!”

His hands grip your thighs tight, holding you in place.

“Don’t run,” he murmurs. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He eats you like he’s starving — like he’s addicted. Like every moan out of your mouth makes him harder.

And god, he’s relentless.

He flattens his tongue, circles your clit, then sucks — and you almost scream.

“Jeongin—oh my god—”

Your fingers knot in his hair, pulling — but he just groans into you, the vibration making your vision blur.

“You’re gonna come again,” he growls. “Right on my face. Like the needy little problem you are.”

You do. Harder than the first time. Writhing, sobbing, wrecked.

But before you can even come down, he’s crawling back up, lips shiny, eyes dark.

“You’re not done,” he says.

You blink. “I—”

He kisses you, slow and filthy. “I’m not done.”

You feel him line up again, and this time, he doesn’t ease in. He slams into you in one long stroke, and your mouth drops open in a silent moan.

“Jeongin—please—”

“Yeah?” he pants. “What do you want?”

“You—fuck—you—harder—”

He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head, and starts pounding.

The bed creaks.

Your cries echo.

And Jeongin just keeps going.

“Mine,” he grits. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.”

You sob, body barely holding on.

“*Yours—*fuck—I’m yours—”

“Good fucking girl.”

And that’s when you snap.

You fall apart beneath him — again — tighter, messier, more ruined than before. He curses, stutters a breath, and follows, hips jerking, burying himself deep.

You both collapse in silence.

Breathless.

Shaking.

Destroyed.

You wake up to the worst sound imaginable.

Knocking. Loud. Rapid. Too damn early.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Chan’s voice calls from the hallway, sing-songy and unforgiving.

Jeongin groans from behind you, burying his face between your shoulder blades. “I hate him.”

You whisper, “He doesn’t know—right?”

“Not unless you screamed really loud.”

You punch his arm. He just laughs.

But panic is very real now. You sit up, immediately clutching the blanket to your chest.

“Jeongin. What if someone heard us? What if they know?”

He props himself up on one elbow, messy hair, lips swollen, the faintest bite mark still on his neck.

“Then let them.”

You gape at him. “What happened to keeping it lowkey?!”

He grins, stretching. “You’re the one who said ‘Jeongin, harder, please—’”

“JEONGIN.” You throw a pillow at his face, shrieking.

He catches it, laughing as he drags you back into the sheets.

“I’m kidding. Relax,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear. “We’re cool.”

Spoiler alert: You are NOT cool.

20 Minutes Later — Downstairs at Breakfast

You walk into the hotel café like you’ve never sinned a day in your life.

You are showered, dressed, dead-eyed, and pretending like Jeongin didn’t have you folded in half against a headboard exactly eight hours ago.

But the second you slide into the booth with the rest of the group, all conversation stops.

Chan stares at you.

Felix blinks.

Hyunjin looks between you and Jeongin like he’s watching a reality show finale.

“So,” Minho says, sipping his coffee, eyes sharp. “Sleep well?”

You almost choke on your orange juice.

Jeongin clears his throat and starts buttering a croissant like it’s a weapon.

“Fine,” you mutter. “Normal. Totally average.”

Seungmin raises a brow. “Right. Because totally average sleep ends with you wearing his hoodie to breakfast.”

You glance down. Shit.

Jeongin looks up with the fakest innocence you’ve ever seen. “Oops.”

Felix leans in, chin resting on his hands. “You guys were fighting so much yesterday. But now you’re all…” he gestures vaguely between you, “glowy.”

“Did you guys…” Hyunjin pauses. “Work out your tension?”

Minho: “With communication? Or—”

Jeongin: “—Body language.”

You whip your head around. “OH MY GOD.”

The entire table bursts into screaming laughter.

“You guys totally fucked!” Chan yells, slapping the table. “I knew it!”

“I heard moaning,” Hyunjin gasps.

“I thought someone was being murdered,” Seungmin adds casually.

You hide your face in your hands. “I am never showing my face again.”

But then you feel it — Jeongin’s hand slipping under the table, resting on your thigh. Quiet. Comforting. Yours.

And you peek at him. He’s smiling down at his plate, cheeks a little red, but eyes only on you.

He squeezes your leg gently.

And suddenly?

The shame melts away.

Because this isn’t just about last night anymore.

This is about what’s next. (pt.2??)

#stray kids #skz #jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin x y/n #i.n skz #smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut #enemies to lovers #enemies with benefits #viral #viralpost #skz fanfic #fanfic #like #follow4more #follow me #request open

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kamaluhkhan · 4 months ago

Text

LOVE, VIOLET

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 12.9k summary: history might say that you and vi were only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated. (or: you and vi celebrating valentine's day warning: friends to lovers arc, lots of sapphic yearning, brief mention of homophobia and bullying....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and sappy lesbian monologues and lots of smut [oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), thigh riding, strap usage(r! receiving), needy+possessive! vi and slightly (?) dom! reader] (18+) ! a/n: happy (belated oops) valentine's day girls and gays <33 been working on this for a while and hoped to get it out like....actually in time for love day but such is life. ANYWAYS this is set in the same universe as this x-mas themed fic (and kinda a modern au of this one?? reader has the same nickname and there's a friends to lovers arc so....). hope y'all enjoy!!!!

♪: "glue song" by beabadoobee ft. clairo (sun); "home by now" by MUNA (moon); "love is a kaleidoscope" by chappell roan (rising)

also - header image was cropped from a gifset from @arcanegifs , pls check out their beautiful work !!!

track 1: “feeling you” by cat burns

(now)

"fuck, vi," you moan as her tongue splits your folds. "we don't have time for this...."

you have to get to studio and vi has to get to work, but the combination of the hot water hitting your skin and vi’s mouth on your cunt was something you did not want to give up just yet — even if you didn't want to admit it.

"baby," vi pouts, looking up at you innocently, as if she wasn't the one who decided to push you against the tile wall and get on her knees in front of you. "it was your idea to shower together this morning.”

"well, sorry for wanting to save water," you breathe, your grip tightening on her hair when she wraps her lips around your clit. "the planet is dying."

vi pulls away from you once more, lips shining with your slick. "well, excuse me for thinking you wanted to start today with a bit of romance. if all you care about is the environment...." she gets up and reaches behind you to turn off the water. "we better get going, pretty girl."

you whine at the sudden loss of warmth and clench your thighs together at the nickname, something that does not go unnoticed by vi. she licks her lips before leaning forward to kiss you, your back pushed against the cool tile once more and the taste of yourself faint on her tongue.

hearing your alarm go off reminds you that there are other responsibilities you each have to attend to. reluctantly, the two of you dry off and make your way to your shared bedroom. you put on a fuschia boyshort / bralette combo (your favorite set because, yes, it matches your girlfriend’s hair) before slipping on some dark jeans and a heart-printed turtleneck, and moving on to your makeup. in the meantime, vi had been in the kitchen making coffee, and reemerges now with two mismatched mugs. she sets one on the desk next to you, kisses the top of your head before getting herself ready for the day.

you swipe some eyeliner on your waterline, watching in the mirror as vi searches in the closet for something to wear, still only dressed in black briefs and a sports bra. you smile as you see the stars tattooed on her upper thigh, sparkling with every movement she makes. once she picks out an outfit, her eyes catch yours.

"what?" she asks with a lazy grin, slipping on a tight black henley.

you smile, adding some pink glitter to your eyelids.

it’s only been two weeks since you’ve moved into this new place. there are still plenty of unpacked boxes, and you still get a bit lost navigating around the neighbourhood, but otherwise, it’s been a dream.

you love seeing your clothes woven together in the same closet; you love waking up with her arm around your waist, doing laundry together, and coming home to vi having tried a new recipe for dinner. you love how you sometimes wear each other’s rings because you keep them all in a pile on the nightstand, how she falls asleep with her head in your lap during movie night, how her skin smells like the rose body wash you picked out together at lush.

you love this — this home you’re starting to build. you’ve known vi for so long, but your lives are intertwined now more than ever.

"nothing," you respond, finishing with a layer of vanilla lip gloss. "want me to do your eyeliner?”

it’s a familiar position: vi sits on the edge of the bed while you straddle her hips. she leans forward and presses a kiss to your sternum before you hold her chin between your thumb and pointer finger.

“so….tomorrow’s valentines day,” vi suddenly points out, though, really, you didn’t need the reminder.

you’d spent these past few years apart and this is your first valentine’s day since the break-up.

you both agreed — no pressure — but…..there’s definitely a bit of pressure. you’d been working on your gift for her for weeks, and you’re really hoping that she likes what you’ve planned.

“i thought it would be nice to get dinner tonight at bacchus. i called earlier this morning and got us a reservation for 7:30.”

you hum in appreciation.

vi might be taking a break from the band, but she’s still the violet lanes, the pink-haired rockstar of every lesbian’s dreams who’s written award-winning songs and sold out entire football stadiums. there are new perks of being her girlfriend this time around, like a nice apartment in new york and getting a day-of-reservation at the most expensive italian restaurant in the city.

“valentine’s day is tomorrow,” you repeat, a playful lilt to your words. you swipe your thumb near the corner of vi’s eye where you’d smudged an otherwise sharp wing of eyeliner. “someone’s eager to get a head start.”

with that, you snap the tube closed, press a kiss to the tattoo on vi’s cheek, and get up to gather your things for studio. you’re tucking your sketchbook into your messenger bag when you feel vi’s strong arms wrap around your middle.

“you always said i was impatient,” she teases. you can feel her smirk against the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your skin and whispering: “can you blame me, stargirl? for wanting to get dressed all fancy and go somewhere nice and romantic with the prettiest girl in the world?”

“of course not.” you crane your neck back until your lips practically brush against hers as you speak. “except, you’re the prettiest in the world, baby.”

a beautiful blush spreads across vi’s freckled cheeks, the way it always has whenever you comment on vi’s beauty.

she clears her throat, still a bit flustered. “agree to disagree?”

you pretend to think about it for a second, nudging your nose against hers. “agree to disagree,” you reply, teasing her by continuing to hover above her lips, just a sliver of air between you.

yeah, vi’s impatient — but, sometimes, you love it. like, right now, when she turns you around to face her so she can close the gap, deepening the kiss by sliding her tongue into your mouth without any preamble.

vi groans as another alarm goes off from your phone. "i will never get used to how many alarms you set."

you giggle, and pull away slightly to swipe the cancel button. vi takes the opportunity to move your shirt slightly and leave bites on your exposed collarbone. you check the time on your phone.

you can spare a little more time. it is valentine’s day, after all.

(age 13)

“vi, your precious stargirl is on the phone for you!”

at the mention of your nickname, vi flinches, inadvertently failing to dodge a lethal attack. green goblin crashed his glider into her spiderman avatar, and the words GAME OVER fill the screen in an angry red font.

vi groans, throwing her playstation controller on the couch before heading to the kitchen.

powder is sitting on the counter, twirling the telephone cord around her finger and yapping away before vi takes her place.

“hey.” vi clears her throat, tries to sound casual. “what’s up?”

“so, my mom promised to make something for ekko’s valentine’s class party, but she just got called in for a shift….which means i’m stuck baking 30 rainbow confetti cupcakes, and hoping i don’t give any eight year olds food poisoning. you doing anything right now?”

“oh - i’m actually, uh, busy! i have homework, and….”

and she’s busy avoiding you, ever since she heard something about you — from drea, of all people — and wondered why you wouldn’t confide in her, your supposed best friend.

“please, vi,” you coax. vi’s heart beats a bit quicker as she pictures your bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “can you come over and help me bake? it feels like forever since we’ve actually hung out. i miss you.”

vi is certainly not god’s strongest soldier when it comes to you, so of course, she caves. rainbow confetti cake is her favorite, so that’s a bonus. she and powder throw on their coats and head next door to yours; powder and ekko keep each other company in the living room while vi joins you in the kitchen.

“hey,” she greets.

“there you are!” your face lights up with the sweetest smile, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flap up a storm.

gods — do you realize the effect you have on her?

there’s already flour dusting your cheek; vi has to resist the urge to brush it away with her thumb, wanting to feel how soft your skin must be.

she snaps out of it though, as you instruct her on what needs to be done, and the two of you work in a comfortable silence, the sounds of your siblings watching cartoons in the other room filling the space between you. at one point, probably realizing that vi isn’t in the mood for talking, you switch on the radio. vi catches you smiling at her as she hums along to freddie mercury, but you’re quick to blink away and get back to work.

you’re sifting confectioner’s sugar into room temperature butter for the icing while vi slides the first batch of cupcakes in the oven, starts prepping the second, her mind starting to wander.

you and vi are playing the leads for your final english project, where you have to reenact scenes from romeo and juliet. powder caught the two of you rehearsing last week, and spent the whole night singing that stupid playground chant. now vi can’t get it out of her head: you and her, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G —

“the rumor’s not true, by the way,”

vi looks at you as she pours batter into another cupcake liner, which accidentally overflows onto the counter.

“shit,” she groans, but you slide over to the other side of the kitchen counter to bring her a towel.

you don’t elaborate on what you’ve just brought up as you wipe up the thick batter. vi figures you’re waiting for her to say something.

“what rumor?”

it was never vi’s instinct to play pretend with you, but frankly she had no idea what else to do without letting her emotions burst into flames and inevitably burn you.

“vi,” you sigh. “i know you’ve heard it. the whole school has. it’s not true, though. i wasn’t kissing james.”

oh. the spark of envy in her gut simmers down.

“did he ask you to the sweetheart dance?”

you shake your head, and the spark extinguishes completely. “even if he did….i wouldn’t want to go with him.”

“why’s that? not your type?”

you finish wiping the counter, and vi takes the now-sticky towel from you to rinse it out in the sink. as she does this, you get back to frosting duty, stirring in some pink food colouring.

“drea saw me kissing someone with dark brown hair,” you explain. “so isabel started told her that it was james, and that’s what she’s been telling everyone. but really….it was her.”

vi blinks at you. “her?”

“yeah, her,” you smile hesitantly.

“you were kissing isabel?”

isabel was the prettiest girl in eighth grade — though, according to vi, you’d have that ranking, and it would go way beyond the scope of your middle school. you’re the prettiest girl in the world; not that vi would ever have the courage to tell you that.

you nod. “you’re not, like, weirded out that i like kissing girls, are you?”

“what? no, of course not! especially since….i, uh, i like kissing girls too.”

in theory. vi likes to imagine kissing girls, especially when they look like korra from the legend of korra, or shego from kim possible, or hayley kiyoko in lemonade mouth.

or….you.

vi watches intently as you — a very pretty, very real girl — swipe your finger through the fluffy pink frosting and taste it, flashing her a sugary smile.

“good to know.”

(age 16)

when josie asked her out, vi had completely neglected the fact that dinner on friday would mean dinner on february 14th.

which is how vi finds herself getting ready for a date with someone she met during your short-lived attempt at starting an all female fight boxing club. josie is sweet and vi felt bad cancelling on her, so like the gentleman she is, vi promised to pick her up at 7:30pm. on friday, february 14th.

it’s 6:44pm, and vi is in your room. you helped her pick out an outfit — something nice but not too formal — and you’ve moved on to makeup, carefully applying her eyeliner.

vi tries not to stare at your lips — which are slightly red from the cinnamon hearts you’ve been eating — so she keeps squirming, and you keep gently guiding her chin towards you. her eyes wander to your decorated walls, filled with posters and photos and other things you’ve collected throughout the years. she’s featured in quite a few, and she catches a glimpse of an old valentine card she’d given you in elementary school.

“it’s weird that we won’t be spending valentine’s day together,” you comment as though reading her mind.

you’d never spend the holiday as anything other than friends, but it does still feel strange, not spending it with someone she knows for sure she loves.

(again — like a friend loves a friend.)

“yeah, definitely,” vi agrees. “do you have anything planned for tonight?”

“huge plans, actually.” you pop another cinnamon heart in your mouth. “i’ve got a super romantic date with the prettiest girl in the world.”

vi tilts her head in confusion — did you mention this to her? — which causes you to shake your head with a lighthearted laugh and guide her towards you once more.

“really? with who?”

you roll your eyes. “i’m kidding!”

“oh.”

“it’s cute how gullible you are,” you whistle. by now, you’re done with her eyes and move on to dusting her cheeks with some sort of shimmery powder. “i’m probably just gonna put on a rom-com and finish — well, start — writing my english essay on romantic literature. lowercase ‘r,’ because ms. chavez was feeling festive. i’m leaning more modernist, but that’s only because i want to write about virginia woolf.”

it’s inching towards when vi should leave, but vi doesn’t care what time it is — she’d listen to you talk forever if she could.

“what’s it about?”

you pull away to examine vi’s makeup one last time.

“the movie, or my essay?” you nod once in approval and give the compact you’re holding to vi so she can take a look. “you look beautiful, by the way.”

vi watches her reflection blush, almost enhanced by the makeup you put on her.

“thanks, stargirl.” vi clears her throat and decides to get back to your original conversation. “the movie and your essay, i guess.”

you offer vi a cinnamon heart, which she accepts, the candy burning sweet on her tongue. you then reach into your backpack, for the ring pop that vi had left in your locker this morning, just before you handed her a box of rainbow confetti cupcakes. you slip the candied jewellery onto your right ring finger before answering.

“i want to analyse the letters between virginia woolf and this other writer — vita sackville-west. they’re essentially love letters, but, you know.” you give an exaggerated shrug. “history says they were only best friends. at least, according to ms. chavez’s interpretations, along with most of the class.”

vi chuckles. “thankfully, you’re here to prove them all wrong.”

“exactly.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, the feeling of your body familiar next to hers. “and, for the movie, i’m thinking when harry met sally, which i remember watching with you for the first time.”

vi definitely remembers watching that with you, too. the whole question of whether or not men and women can be friends without romance getting in the way brought up another, much more relevant question in vi’s mind: can two sapphic women be friends without any complicated feelings?

it’s definitely possible.

“so….you excited for this date?”

vi shrugs. “yeah.”

“wow. i totally believe that,” you say, words dripping with sarcasm.

“it’s just….it’s valentine’s day,” vi whispers. she starts fiddling with one of her rings — you’d gotten it for her last valentine’s day, a silver thumb ring with a star in the middle. “what if she wants to kiss me tonight?”

“well, you kiss her back, if that’s what you want.”

“that’s what i want,” she responds, way too quickly to be true. “it’s just — i’m not sure i’ll be any good.”

“you’ll be fine,” you assure.

“but — i mean, i’ve never…..”

“oh.” your eyes widen and your lips part in shock, the blue-raspberry of the ring pop turning them from red to purple that’s intoxicatingly close to violet. “oh.”

“what! it’s not, like the end of the world.”

“of course not! it’s just — you’ve gone out with a bunch of girls, so i just figured….”

vi shakes her head, her cheeks heating up. “guess i never found the right one. i know it’s cliche, but i kinda wanted my first kiss to be —”

“special?” you guess, and vi nods.

“and now, there’s all this pressure, i’m worried that i won’t be good.”

you clear your throat. “right. well, if it helps relieve the pressure….i could show you….how.”

“show me?”

“well — i mean, like teach you, i guess. plus, then i can let you know whether you’re, like, a good kisser or not.”

that’s how you find yourself practically in vi’s lap, slotting your lips between hers. it started off with a quick peck, but clearly, you’ve both decided that this lesson requires a bit more.

every single one of vi’s senses is heightened: the stickiness of your glossed lips, the sugar on your tongue, the giggles rumbling through you and bouncing down vi’s throat. time seems to slow down — no, freeze entirely — which is a stark contrast to the burning in her lungs.

needing air, vi pulls away.

“h-how was that?” she breathes, her words warming your mouth.

“good.” you smile, almost shy. you’re so close together that vi can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. “maybe….a bit gentler this time.”

“gentler?”

“slower,” you suggest.

so, you kiss again. gentler, this time.

“your lips are a bit chapped,” is your next note. you reach for the tube of lip gloss in your pocket. “can i?”

“go ahead, stargirl,” vi whispers. “you’re the expert.”

you paint a layer of sticky vanilla glitter onto vi’s lips.

“there,” you sit back after swiping your thumb underneath vi’s bottom lip.

vi blinks at you. her lips feel like they’re coated in honey. “how do i look?”

“really pretty,” you reply, with a small smile. you sigh, glancing at the scooby-doo alarm clock on your nightstand, the one you’ve had since you were six years old. “you better go. have a good time with josie, okay?”

“okay.” vi gets up and grabs her jacket, tugs on her shoes. “and, thanks again for, well, you know.”

you shrug. “that’s what best friends are for. happy valentine’s, vi.”

vi hesitates just as she’s about to climb out your window. “look, stargirl, i don’t have to – i mean, i’m perfectly happy canceling my, uh, date, and just hanging out with you.”

“you’re sweet, vi, but i’ll be fine. go — have fun.” you walk closer to her so you can slip your tube of lipgloss into vi’s button down shirt pocket. you pat her chest affectionately. “and remember to be gentle, yeah?”

later, when she’s making out with josie in the backseat of her dad’s car, vi tries not to think about your soft voice guiding her through the movements, or the dizzying taste of your lips — cinnamon hearts and sour candy and sweet, sweet vanilla.

history might say that you and vi are only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated.

___

[image: a cartoon scooby-doo, holding a bouquet of hearts. the message reads: BE MY VALENTINE!]

to: stargirl <3

from: vi

___

track 2: “you’re my best friend” by queen

(age 7)

“mom?”

“yeah, kiddo?”

“can you be in love with your best friend?”

her mom, felicia, smiles knowingly, the question hanging in the air until the end of song. it’s part of an old mixtape that felicia plays sometimes, mostly glam rock like queen and david bowie. she put it on this afternoon while her and vi get ready for the valentine’s class party tomorrow. vi scribbles names on cards while her mom fills clear heart-printed bags with candy. powder’s fallen asleep on her lap.

“definitely,” felicia finally answers, reaching over to tap vi’s nose playfully. “love, violet, can be a million different things. that’s the fun part.”

felicia pinches vi’s cheek affectionately. vi frowns, thinking about this whole love thing.

love is definitely not the next classmate whose name she’s writing — drea, who always cheats during sports and teases vi for being a tomboy. she’s tempted to just leave her out, but the policy of ms. julie’s second grade class is that everyone needs to get a valentine. so, that’s not love, either.

instead, vi thinks of her family — her mom, vander, powder, and even ekko; movie nights and lively dinners and warm hugs. she thinks of her friends — mylo and claggor; laughter and skinned knees and running so fast it feels like flying.

when she thinks of you, though, her heart beats differently.

vi thinks about how you always carry around a spiderman bandaid because she always scrapes herself during recess, and the nurse only carries plain, boring bandages. she thinks about how you ‘accidentally’ spill paint on drea’s art project after she calls vi mean names.

she thinks about how you doodle on her arms during math or braid her hair as you watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal on saturday mornings.

she thinks about the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear, the perpetual marker stains on your hands, the dimple on your cheek.

you’re her best friend, and your smile alone wakes up a million butterflies in her stomach.

vi’s mom suggested spiderman valentine’s cards, but vi wanted to pick out something that you’d like; vi knows that scooby-doo is your favorite show, so that’s what she went with. she adds a ring pop to your bag of candy, because she knows they’re your favorite candy. she adds a little heart by your nickname, too.

the next day, everyone is decorating their shoeboxes, transforming them into mailboxes before exchanging valentines. vi’s hands are sticky with glitter glue when you walk over — ms. julie said that you and vi distracted each other, so she assigned you to desks on opposite sides of the room.

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you say, sliding a card into her mailbox and smiling ear to ear before moving on to the next person. vi eagerly reaches in for the valentine.

it’s spiderman-themed, and there’s a heart next to her name.

(now)

when you walk through the door, you’re engulfed in the scent of warm garlic bread and sweet, ripe tomatoes. the restaurant is bustling with waiters delivering colourful dishes, everyone wearing crisp suits and silk dresses. someone’s playing piano, soft music dancing throughout the room, and the overhead lights are dimmed, with each table illuminated by a candle in the centre.

the maître d' greets you with a welcoming smile and settles you into a table. once they’re gone, vi reaches across the table for your hand.

“you look beautiful, stargirl.”

vi’s skin is always warm, but the cool metal of her thumb ring sends a shiver through you as she brushes over your knuckles. the flame between you flickers, darkening vi’s powder blue eyes as she gazes at you lovingly.

“you let me borrow your clothes,” you point out. “i’m wearing one of your suits.”

“what can i say….” vi winks, releasing your hand so she can open the menu in front of her. “i have good taste. looks better on you, anyways.”

“were you always this much of a flirt?” you tease.

vi smirks. “like a fine wine, i just get better with age.”

“you are so corny,” you say with a slight laugh.

“well, some people do think my love songs are cheesy.”

“even the ones written about me?”

vi looks up from her menu, one eyebrow raised. “baby, they’re all about you.”

your cheeks heat up at vi’s confession, and you take a sip from your glass, ice water trickling down your throat, in hopes of steadying your heartbeat.

a waiter comes by; you each order pasta dishes and vi orders a bottle of wine for the table. the wine arrives quickly, but given how busy the restaurant is, you anticipate the food will take longer.

you fill the time easily, catching each other up on the details of your lives since this morning. you start by telling her how hectic your art studio has been as you prepare for your big spring exhibition, but how excited everyone is. you’re especially excited since you get to explore different mediums along the way; these past few weeks, you’ve been learning how to use a pottery wheel. you went through the final step of the process today — glazing — and you’re happy at the end product.

“i don’t think i’m gonna include it in my exhibit, though,” you conclude.

“well, it’d be nice to have some of your art on display all the time.” vi smiles. “you should bring whatever you made home.”

“that’s the idea,” you muse, a twinkle in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “how was your day?”

vi started teaching guitar at the local community centre. some adults take lessons, but it’s mostly little kids with too much energy and too little patience. still, no matter how chaotic it can be, it’s clear that vi has been loving her job.

“i swear, this one girl, marceline, is a budding rockstar. i taught her a jimi hendrix song and she picked it up —” vi snaps her fingers, smiling proudly. “like that. such a talented kid.”

“you would know, pretty girl,” you praise.

your waiter arrives to bring plates full of pasta. you and vi thank them, your stomach grumbling at the delicious smell, a reminder that you had barely eaten all day. you’re so ready to dig into some quality fettuccine alfredo.

you and vi eat in a comfortable silence, until you hear an unfortunately familiar voice grate at your ears:

“oh my god, it is you! i saw you from the other side of the restaurant and just had to come over and say hi!”

you don’t need to glance to know who it is, but you do anyways, and so does vi. your stomach drops as you watch her bite back a scoff before turning back to her food.

“hi, drea,” vi clips before taking a big gulp of wine. she continues eating, barely sparing the woman another glance.

drea continues to hover. she’s wearing dark lipstick, her black hair cut into a classic bisexual bob, and her amber eyes silently pleading at you to break the ice.

“hey, drea,” you greet with a stiff smile, and drea relaxes her shoulders at your veil of friendliness.

“nice earrings,” she winks, reaching over to tap the dangling purple gem. “thought you might have gotten rid of them after we broke up.”

vi chokes on a sip of wine. “broke up?” vi coughs, reaches for her water glass. “since when did you two date?”

you open your mouth to respond, but drea beats you to it, clearly too focused on being the centre of attention.

“maybe like a year or so ago.” drea turns to you. “right, starlight?”

vi’s jaw clenches, and she drops her fork, metal clattering against the plate.

“starlight?”

“yeah, because of the star-shaped birthmark behind her —”

“i know,” vi snaps. her eyes are locked on you, and slightly glazed over. “you never told me you dated drea.”

“i-it was only 3 months,” you stutter.

“that hurts,” drea groans, clutching her heart. she always did have a flair for the dramatic. “it was 4 months, babe.”

“you dated for 4 months, and i’m just hearing about it now?” vi seethes, trying to keep her voice low. the tables around you have already taken note that something is happening, though, their conversations hushing down to an idle whisper. “did you somehow forget how much of an asshole she was in high school?”

“um, i’m right here?” drea chides, still not taking the hint that neither of you are interested in a happy reunion.

“we need a minute,” you and vi say simultaneously. drea rolls her eyes and mutters something you don’t care to hear; you’re too concerned with explaining yourself to vi, whose cheeks are burning with a deep shade of red. whether it’s jealousy, anger, or embarrassment, you’re not quite sure.

“vi, just let me —”

you reach out for her hand, but as soon as you make contact, vi pulls away abruptly.

“i…i need….to not be here right now,” vi mutters. the last thing she wants is to make headlines tomorrow morning — violet lanes, caught having argument with girlfriend at upscale restaurant during on valentine’s eve. flip to page 6 for the full story! — so, she gets up and slips on her jacket.

“please, baby, let’s talk about this —”

“order dessert, if you want. don’t rush home.”

her voice cracks at that last word before she storms out the door, leaving you with two unfinished meals and stomach heavy with regret.

___

[image: notebook opened to a page filled with chaotic, scribbled writing]

FOR STARGIRL (FINAL DRAFT!!! COME UP WITH TITLE LATER!??!!)

i’m stuck on you, baby

you taught me what love is

sugary sweet kisses,

frosting on your lips;

first tattoos,

promises on our skin

i’m stuck on you, baby

have been since we were kids

you’re not just the sun or the moon

you’re all my stars

know that i’ll love you

wherever we are

___

track 3: “true romantic” by indigo girls

(age 18)

the auditorium is decorated with red and pink streamers, heart garlands and bouquets of roses. a red spotlight shines on the stage, painting each performer with a pink hue. there are small tables and chairs arranged to make the space feel more like a parisian cafe, instead of where drama club rehearses for the spring musical.

you’re sitting at one of the tables, inhaling all the free coffee and pastries you possibly can and chatting with viktor and jayce, like you’ve done for the past three years at your highschool’s annual valentine’s day coffeehouse.

the first time vi performed, during your freshman year, she was all nerves, her fingers fumbling at chords and voice trembling through the lyrics of a joan jett song she had played for you perfectly that morning. when her eyes landed on yours in the crowd, you gave her a thumbs-up — you’d been just friends at the time, after all — and vi seemed to warm up, finishing to enthusiastic applause.

now, vi walks on with confidence right away, electric guitar the same pink as her hair, with a constellation of stars scribbled on its body with black sharpie. she’s grown out her hair, still keeping it shorter on one side to display her growing collection of piercings. the newest addition is a silver loop in her nostril, which glints underneath the spotlight as she leans closer to the mic. she’s wearing lowrise jeans and showcasing a sliver of her hips; you can’t help but think about what’s hidden just a bit lower, the stars sparkling along her upper thigh, etched into her skin at the same time you got violets blooming between your ribs.

“hey everyone. most of you know me as the captain of our hockey team —”

beside you, jayce whistles and there’s a scattering of applause for the team, who just made it to nationals. vi landed an athletic scholarship, too, to play at university of piltover. even though you have a hard time picturing your girlfriend as an enforcer, you’re so proud of her. plus, it’s only a twenty minute drive from zaun university, where you’ve decided to go so you could be close to your family.

“but, i’ve been writing songs, too,” vi continues. “i realized that i’ve gotten up here every year to sing someone else’s love song to a girl i’ve had a crush on since before i even knew what a crush was. but this is a song i’ve been writing, for and about her, for years. and now that we’re actually dating….well, i wanted to do something special for our first valentine’s day. ” vi looks at you with a toothy grin, and you blow her a kiss. “wait, actually, can we get a spotlight on my girlfriend? right there?”

vi gestures in your general direction, and suddenly you feel the heat of the spotlight and 50 pairs of eyes on you. your cheeks flush at the attention, but you play along and wave nonetheless.

“there she is,” vi gushes. “my beautiful stargirl. i wrote this song —”

“oh my god, we came here for music, not your sappy lesbian monologue!” drea, current goalie of zaun high’s hockey team and perpetual pain in vi’s ass, groans. “hurry up and play the song already!”

one of the teachers hushes the bubbling laughter, and it dies down just as quickly as it emerged.

vi rolls her eyes. “as i was saying, i wrote this song-slash-sappy-lesbian-monologue for you, stargirl. i hope you like it. happy valentine’s day.”

you don’t know what makes your heart soar more — the sweet lyrics falling from the lips of the girl you love, or the girl herself.

later, vi is falling asleep in the middle of chemistry class when she hears a light clink against the window. she glances outside and sees you waving at her, smile as bright as a shooting star. you have paint stains on your jeans that weren’t there earlier and you’re gesturing at her to follow you. vi just shrugs and nods her chin towards the front of the class.

your bottom lip juts out into a pout, and you curve your hands into a heart before disconnecting them. vi snorts at your antics.

“ms. lanes, are my slides on organic compounds amusing to you?”

“uh, no mr. michaels. of course not.” vi clears her throat, whips her head back towards the smartboard. “may i, uh, go to the bathroom?”

vi checks her phone as soon as she closes the door behind her.

stargirl

hurry UP!!!

dyke spiderman <3

easy romeo

i’m omw

where should i meet u???

stargirl

our spot

“wait!” you call as soon as vi reaches the bottom of the staircase and starts to turn the corner. “close your eyes!”

“how’d you know it was me?” vi laughs, but does as she’s told nonetheless.

“the axe body spray is a pretty dead giveaway,” you deadpan.

“hey, i stopped using that in middle school. can i look now?”

you ask her to wait one more time. vi feels you shift behind her, wrap your arms around her waist. on instinct, vi reaches a hand down and laces her fingers through yours, your skin slick and cold.

“okay,” you whisper, your breath hot against her ear. “open your eyes.”

and when she does, vi is glad that you’re holding her, because she’s suddenly weak in the knees at what’s gracing the wall before her: a small mural reminiscent of klimt’s famous painting, ‘the kiss’. except — it’s the two of you, surrounded by stars and violets.

“happy valentine’s day, vi.”

you untangle yourself from her, but vi doesn’t let go of your hand, even when she realizes it’s wet with fresh paint.

“you….you did this?”

“yeah.”

“wow….it’s amazing. beautiful.”

vi squeezes your hand, still in awe at how you beautifully swirled together each color, the loving expressions you managed to portray with each delicate stroke of your paintbrush.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love….” she turns to you. “i love it. you didn’t have to do all this though, it must have taken you forever.”

“you’re worth it,” you muse. “like you said — it’s our first valentine’s day. as a couple at least. i wanted to do something special. i made us a playlist, too.”

so, even though it means she’s skipping chem and you’re skipping history, the two of you curl underneath the staircase, a pair of earbuds split between you.

“i’m gonna miss seeing you every day after we graduate.”

vi hums in agreement. she gently lifts your head from her shoulder, holding your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “you know i’ll love you wherever we are, right?”

“i know, i heard you early on stage,” you swoon, settling back against her shoulder. “seemed a bit dramatic for only being, like, 20 minutes away from each other. though, i guess that is the farthest apart we’ve ever been.”

vi takes a deep breath, as your fingers dance along the doodles decorating her skin, the ones you had drawn on in sharpie during calculus. “except…. it might be further than that, depending on how things go.”

your pointer finger pauses halfway through an outline of a heart. “what do you mean?”

“i’m, uh….i don’t want to go to university of piltover. actually, i don’t want to go to college at all. i turned down the scholarship; made the official decision two weeks ago after the big game.”

“you did what?”

“i wanna move to l.a. or london, pursue this whole music thing. i think it could really take me places.”

“right,” you clip.“and why are you just bringing this up now? have you told vander? have you talked to anyone before making a huge, life-changing decision?”

you continue shaking your head in disbelief as you gather your backpack and turn the corner, emerging from underneath the staircase; vi follows you.

“no, but it’s my life — and i know what i want.”

“and it’s always about what you want, right?” you scoff.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“it’s just — did you ever think about your family in all this? how powder might feel having her sister so far away just as she’s starting high school?”

“i’ve spent the past 13 years of my life worrying about powder, taking care of her especially after our mom died,” vi reasons, trying to keep her voice steady. “i need a break. my dreams are bigger than this town.”

“do you…” you trail off, hesitant to even speak the words aloud, but the coil in your gut tells you it’s unavoidable. “do you need a break from us?”

“stargirl.” vi whispers your nickname like a promise itching to be broken. “i thought you’d love having a rockstar girlfriend,” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“don’t,” you grumble, brows furrowed. “if you wanted to make things work between us, you would have at least talked to me about this.”

“i am talking to you,” vi counters. she grabs her hands in yours. you pull away.

“but, you spent these past two weeks listening to me imagine our future together, while you had already made other plans. what does that say about our actual future?”

before vi can respond, someone clears their throat from the top of the staircase. your principal, looking down on you with an expression that can only be described as disinterested, addressing you by your last names.

“pro tip,” she continues. “if you want to skip class and have a lover’s quarrel, make sure it’s not somewhere that carries sound directly to the office.”

you and vi get assigned detention that afternoon. you’re told to sit on opposite sides of the room, but that doesn’t stop vi from throwing a crumpled ball of paper your way.

glancing over at your girlfriend, you have to admit that you find yourself melting at those puppy dog eyes of hers, pleading and so full of love as she waits for you to respond to her message.

even though the future feels uncertain, you scribble something back, then toss the paper towards her desk discreetly. it lands on the floor. vi unfolds it and smiles as she reads the note, cheeks tinted a light rose.

___

[image: a crumpled ball of paper. unfold it, and it reads….]

(in hot pink gel pen)

I WANT TO MAKE THINGS WORK BETWEEN US

I LOVE YOU

(in black sharpie)

I LOVE YOU TOO

OF COURSE WE’LL MAKE IT WORK

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A ROCK STAR GF, BTW

BUT ONLY IF SHE’S AS HOT AS YOU

___

track 4: “home by now” by MUNA

(age 21)

“wait, hold on — what does that sign say?”

violet lanes, will you be my valentine?

“i’m flattered,” vi chuckles. “but, sorry ladies — i’m a happily taken woman. i’ve got a pretty girl waiting for me in the crowd.”

“and, lemme just say, it’s a good thing we’ve all got separate hotel rooms this time,” caitlyn groans.

vi rolls her eyes. “anyways. this is a very special night because it’s the first time my girlfriend is watching us perform live! she’s over there, looking as beautiful as ever. everyone, say hi!”

the spotlight shines on you, and you giggle shyly. the necklace she’d given you this morning practically glows between your collarbones, illuminates your skin with a violet hue.

“isn’t she the cutest?” vi gushes. “the first time i performed this next song was to celebrate our first valentine’s day as a couple. and — fun little easter egg — when we released this as a single, the cover was a painting she had made for me on that same day. she’s just so talented, kicking ass at this fancy art program….she’s basically the frida kahlo to my joan jett…..and i’m just rambling, now, sorry guys. i could probably talk about my girl all day.”

“oh, and she does,” maddie grumbles.

“the fans love sappy-lesbian-monologues, don’t they?” the crowd roars, and vi flashes maddie a winning smirk. “so, yeah, i love my girlfriend every day, of course, but today it’s with roses and ring pops and those cheesy cards kids hand out to each other in elementary school. happy valentine’s day, stargirl. this one’s called — stuck on you.”

when the show’s over, and the band’s played not one, but two encores, you’re flinging your arms around vi’s neck before she even has the chance to put down her guitar. she’s all sweaty, white tank top sticking to her torso. her ears are still ringing and her throat a bit sore, but all vi cares about is the feelings of your soft lips kissing across her cheeks.

“you’re so fucking amazing,” you gush, pecking her lips delicately. “i mean, i’ve seen you play before, but never like this! vi, you’re….wow. electric, fucking radiant. you must be exhausted, though, ahh —”

vi kisses you, sweaty and breathless, until she’s practically sucked all the air from your lungs.

“not at all,” she replies with a cocky grin. “we’ve got all night and i’m not planning on getting any sleep.”

“ugh, gross. get a room,” caitlyn scoffs, playful but with a bit of an edge.

“oh, we will,” you reply coolly. maybe you’re a bit jealous with how seamlessly caitlyn fits into vi’s new life, how much she’s able to see your girlfriend much more than you’re able to. she hasn’t been particularly friendly since you’ve gotten here, and she’s been a bit too touchy with vi in the tabloids lately. “i’m guessing you don’t have any valentine’s plans?”

caitlyn narrows her eyes at you.

vi laughs, probably about to make a lighthearted comment to diffuse the tension between you and caitlyn, but she’s called aside by their manager for a quick chat before she gets the chance.

“i’ll be right back. cait, stargirl — play nice,” she advises, like you’re children fighting on the playground.

once she’s gone, caitlyn’s frown turns into a smirk.

“stargirl, huh? guess that explains her thigh tattoo. i didn’t think vi was that sentimental, though, so it must have been at your request.”

you straighten your back, trying to mirror caitlyn’s combative confidence. “i think i know her better than you.”

“maybe before, when you were kids growing up in that nothing town. things change, darling. people change — who they are and what they want. if i were you, i’d accept that sooner rather than later,” caitlyn snarks as she finally walks away, bumping your shoulder just as vi returns to the pair of you.

you don’t quite have the time to register the interaction, not with vi intertwining her fingers with yours and tugging you towards her body.

“let’s get out of here, yeah?” she brushes some hair behind your ear. “we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

and, there was so much time to make up for — the days that have turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years since you’d last seen each other in person, sometimes only speaking to each other once every month, for only two minutes at a time.

you’d gotten so used to being apart that being together feels like a dream.

vi’s warm body presses against yours, barely making it to the bed. you just couldn’t resist pushing her against the door of the hotel room as soon as you were inside, lodging your thigh between her legs.

“i, uh, i have a surprise for you,” vi breathes, groaning as you hum and start to suck bruises down her neck.

“yeah? what is it, pretty girl?”

blushing and slightly flustered at the nickname, vi removes her shirt and sits back on the bed, gesturing at you to follow her. you hover on top of her and take in her naked form.

“you…got your nipples pierced.”

vi grins.

“can i touch them?”

she nods enthusiastically. you brush your thumb over one and she shivers, causing you to pull away.

“no, it’s okay,” she assures, guiding your hand back towards her. “feels good.”

you start kissing her again. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” until you reach her chest. “can i?”

vi blinks up at you, eyes glazed over with honeyed want. “please. f-fuck,” vi moans when you latch your mouth to her nipple, rolling the cold, silver piercing along your tongue.

“you’re so sensitive,” you coo. you release her nipple with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting it to your wet lips. your fingers slip underneath vi’s underwear, gliding through her soft curls and down into her sticky heat. “so wet. you really missed me, yeah?”

“course i did, stargirl,” vi lets out a shaky laugh. “i want to show you just how much.”

you pout, and vi has the urge to capture that beautiful bottom lip of yours between her teeth. “but i wanted to show you how much i missed you.”

“well, like i said — we have all night.”

three orgasms later, and you’re nearing the point of exhaustion, but you’re determined to keep going, if anything because of how full you feel with vi’s fingers fucking into you at a truly impressive pace. the pads of her fingers are rougher than before, calluses from playing guitar so often, but she still knows exactly how to curl and curve them in every way that makes you unravel. her lips are shining with your cum, and you still taste her sweetness on your tongue.

she grinds her bare cunt against the soft skin of your thigh as she brings you closer and closer to your peak while desperately chasing hers.

“you close, pretty girl? gonna cum for me again?”

vi whines, nods eagerly. “i’m so fucking close. fuck — i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you groan when vi starts sucking at your pulsepoint, running her tongue over the chain of your new necklace. you reach a hand up to tug at her hair, gently coaxing her to look at you.

“don’t worry about that,” you promise. vi takes a deep breath as though inhaling your words and buries her face in the crook of your neck, butterfly lashes fluttering closed and tickling the skin behind your ear. “you’re being so good for me, so messy.”

“s-sorry,” vi sniffles, blood rushing to her cheeks. her body stills while she moves to meet your gaze, her puppy dog eyes shining with desire and desperation.

you shake your head and dig your fingers into the plush of her hips, urging her to keep going.

“i love it,” you clarify, prompting vi’s face to brighten, her smile pure sunlight and sugar.

you run your thumb over the scar on her lip that stretches with such familiarity, before crashing your lips against hers. vi welcomes your slick tongue into her mouth, swirling around every crevice until your tastes combine into one. the knot in your abdomen tightens and you, somewhat reluctantly, pull away to admire your girlfriend.

“i love how gorgeous you look on top of me, fucking me while using my body to get yourself off,” you continue, words flowing from your mouth like thick, sickly-sweet nectar. “i want you to cum with me one more time, yeah?”

vi whimpers into the crook of your neck, the vibrations intensifying the waves of pleasure crashing throughout your body. it doesn’t take long for vi to feel you clench around her fingers, and for you to feel her gush against your skin, staining the bedspread beneath your entangled bodies.

vi pulls away her fingers — you whimper this time at the sudden emptiness — but she places the softest kiss on your lips as an apology before adjusting to lay down on her side. she nestles into the curve between your neck and shoulder. her teeth graze your pulsepoint as you run your hand through her damp hair.

you should probably take a shower — the two of you drenched in each other’s sweat and saliva and cum — but all you want to do is to melt against her. maybe if you stay in bed, then time will slow down.

“i wish you could stay longer.”

“me too,” you whisper, idly tracing your fingers down her body.

“you know, the art scene in this city is amazing,” she mumbles. “lot of galleries where you could show your work. nice, big apartments where you could have your own private studio space. you could move here after graduation.”

you laugh. “maybe in another life, where i could afford a place in new york. plus, at this point, i think it’d be best for me to move home after i graduate. but, hypothetically speaking — yeah, that would be cool.”

“well, hypothetically speaking, you would share rent with the pink-haired butch of your dreams.”

“you mean the one whose cum is drying on my thigh right now?”

“the very same,” vi nods with a cheeky grin. she throw her arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

you nudge your nose against hers. “paint me a picture — what does this dream life with my dream girl look like?”

“well, we get a place in an artsy neighbourhood, obviously, surrounded by a strong, welcoming community of queer artists, who are all quirky and colorful in their own way.”

“we’d actually be friends with our neighbours — host dinner parties and have movie nights and dance all night at gay bars. our apartment would have an open-floor plan, and we’d have big windows that give us a ton of light and a great view.”

“a beautiful kitchen, too. one that’s a little outdated, but we prefer the term charming,” vi adds. “and there are always fresh flowers on the counter, in a gorgeous vase.”

“we thrifted most of our stuff, so the furniture is all mismatched furniture and in every color of the rainbow —”

“but it works.”

“it works,” you echo, heart glowing. “we adopt a dog, too.”

“and, the dog’s name?”

you think for a second. “scooby.”

“of course,” vi agrees, her smile suddenly sad. “sounds like a nice life we’d have together.”

“yeah. it does.”

you swallow down those dreams with a bitter dose of reality. you’ll be on a plane tomorrow, heading back to your childhood home, while vi continues travelling the world, performing to sold-out stadiums.

i don’t know what i’d do without you.

the sad truth is that vi does know what to do without you, and you know what to do without her. that’s what this relationship has become: together, in theory, but growing into your adult selves and towards lives that don’t necessarily include the other.

the vi beside you, hair a mess and eyeliner smudged, looks the same, give or take a few new tattoos and piercing. but, you wonder about all the little ways she’s changed that you might not ever have the chance to appreciate, about all the details of her day that you’ll never get to hear about.

you wonder if, possibly, caitlyn is right. you know that people change — who they are, what they want. you want to believe that you and vi are the exception, that no matter how much you changed, you’d always be together. always.

you then remember something else that caitlyn had said, and abruptly stop tracing designs onto vi’s skin, your eyes lingering on the stars on her upper thigh. vi must notice how you stiffen, because she cups your cheek, prompting you to meet her gaze.

“hey — are you okay?”

“i just — don’t take this the wrong way — but….has anything ever happened between you and cait?”

vi freezes. “why….why would you ask that?”

“o-oh, it’s just….she mentioned something about your star tattoo and, i, uh, i don’t know. seems like the type of thing she’d only know if the two of you had —”

vi shuffles away from you beneath the sheets and sits up. “you think i’d cheat on you?”

“you aren’t answering the question,” you notice, watching carefully as a nervous blush blooms across her freckled cheeks. “did anything happen between you and caitlyn?”

“why does it matter? why are you asking?”

“i’m starting to think i have a good reason to.” you get out of bed in a huff and slip on her oversized graphic tee, starting to pace back and forth.

“i — look, i was going to tell you, at some point — we, uh….well, nothing actually happened.”

“well? what didn’t actually happen?”

“baby, just let me explain —” vi catches your arm to stop you. “we were both drunk and high and sharing a cigarette by the pool and….she….we….almost kissed.”

you scoff. “so that’s what this weekend was all about — you felt guilty, so you put on this heart-eyed romantic act to make yourself feel better. everything — this last minute trip, the shoutout at your concert, the fucking necklace you got me — was all because you felt guilty.”

“maybe that’s part of it,” vi admits. “but, mostly, i wanted to see you. i miss you.”

you don’t confess to missing her, too. instead, you say:

“maybe we don’t know each other as well as we used to. maybe….things are changing a bit too much.”

“what does that even — where is this going?” vi drops your arm like its a hot coal, red-hot and blistering. “do you wanna break up?”

the tension hangs in the air, a cloud of smoke and darkness between you and the girl you’ve always loved.

“do you?”

you get on a plane the next morning, bone-tired and heart-heavy with deja vu.

you kiss each other goodbye, promise that you’ll make things work.

you don’t. can’t.

a few months later, you’ll break up.

___

[image: postcard reading GREETINGS FROM PARIS! messy handwriting and misspelled words on the other side]

stargirl,

i promised powder id send her a postcard from paris but im really really drunk rn and urs is the only address i can rememer

they say this is the city of love and it’s the most romantic day of the yer but it means nothing without u. i miss u.

that mesage was 4 u not powder. just tell her i say hi.

xxx

p.s. i know were not together anymore, but i still love u.

___

track 5: “i’ve loved you for so long” by the aces

(now)

“vi?”

all the lights in the apartment are off, the only sign that vi is home being her discarded doc martens strewn by the door. there’s a chill in the air, too — the window to the fire escape is open, so you head outside.

the string lights twisted around the railing flicker like fallen stars, and the city sparkles in the late winter night. vi perches over the edge, her silk shirt unbuttoned at the top, her dark lipstick faded, and a cigarette smouldering between her ringed fingers.

“i stopped at magnolia’s on my way home – got us a slice of confetti cake for dessert,” you try, keeping your voice light in hopes of avoiding a fight. you hoped that the sweet treat would be a welcomed peace offering; that maybe you could sit down in your shared kitchen and actually talk through the conflict like the well-adjusted adults you’re trying to be.

instead, time collapses into itself; you’re both teenagers again, keeping secrets from each other in hopes to ease future pain, and you have a feeling you’re about to bicker like an old married couple, fall back into familiar patterns.

“sure you wouldn’t want to share it with drea, instead starlight?”

you don’t take the bait; you know vi wants to push your buttons, and you know that she knows exactly how.

“didn’t realize you still smoked,” you say, moving to lean against the railing next to her.

“whenever i get stressed.” she takes a drag to prove her point, exhaling smoke into the ink-black sky. “guess we don’t know each other as well as we used to.”

“vi, please,” you sigh. “can we actually talk about this without you lashing out like a wounded dog?”

and, it’s true — vi’s instinct when she’s upset has always been rushing to sink her teeth into something to protect herself from more harm, or gnawing on old wounds until fresh blood emerges.

“what’s there to talk about?” she snarls, tapping her cigarette, ash falling down into the abyss below you. “how you lied about dating drea?”

“i didn’t lie,” you huff. the winter night shivers down to your bones, but you cross your arms over your chest to keep yourself steady. “i just didn’t tell you that i’d gone out with her, specifically. we each admitted to seeing other people after our break-up. you never gave me a list of every fangirl you took to bed.”

“i told you about caitlyn —”

“the tabloids told me about caitlyn,” you counter.

“you knew how much i hated drea!” vi barks, finally whipping her head to look at you. “do you not remember how much of a homophobic asshole she was? how she told the entire hockey team that i cornered her in the showers one day and tried to kiss her?”

you bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper.

“vi, if you just let me explain — she meant nothing to me.”

vi laughs, cold and bitter as the winter air. “i mean, jesus christ, you still have and wear the earrings she got you. meanwhile, you never wear that necklace i’d gotten you. as soon as we broke up, you were perfectly happy getting rid of me.”

“please, vi —”

vi’s eyes shine under the starlight, and she clenches her jaw so tight that you’re worried the bone might shatter. “did you not care about me at all, even after all that time, everything we’d been through?”

you uncross your arms and reach out to her, but she flinches away.

“violet —”

“no — you stopped caring about me to the point that you dated someone who made my life a living hell.” vi takes a shaky breath, and she chokes out your name. “we were best friends first, and i thought….god, i thought that meant we’d always love each other.”

the words hang heavy in the air, your heart pierced by her icicle-sharp words. in a haste, you wipe away the cold tears burning on your skin, turn around on your heels, and storm back inside.

vi finds you a few minutes later in the living room. you’re using the swiss army knife you usually keep clipped to your belt to tear through unpacked boxes. though she’s not sure what you’re looking for, vi turns on the lamp to help your search.

“what are you —”

you finally pull something out and offer it to her without a single word.

vi’s fingers are still slightly frozen as she holds it, her eyes following the precise swirls and crisp lines, designs similar to the tattoos on her back. you must have drawn them on the worn cardboard.

“what is this?”

“open it,” is all you say before sitting cross-legged on the velvety purple couch, which the two of you had lugged up three flights of stairs from the street corner just the other day. you pick at one of the tears in the fabric as you wait.

vi stays standing while she carefully cracks open the lid, well aware that it could disintegrate in her hands like sand through an hourglass.

what looks like a forgotten, ready-to-be-recycled shoebox turns out to contain much more than old sneakers:

valentine’s cards she’d given you in elementary school; notes you passed to each other during class or detention; her first songwriting notebook she must have left at your place; a jolly rancher lollipop wrapper from the halloween party where you first…you know. little trinkets vi had given you throughout the years. receipts, movie tickets, photobooth strips of your younger selves. so carefree and full of love.

her anger, her hurt, melts away into sappy affection; knees turning to jello, she slides onto the couch next to you.

you watch through the corner of your eye as vi rustles through contents of the shoebox-turned-time capsule, teeth worrying at your bottom lip.

“you….you kept all of this?”

“i put this box together on the first valentine’s day after our break-up. i was going to set it on fire,” you timidly admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

vi snorts. “seriously?”

“some sort of stupid ritual i read about in autostraddle, to get rid of your ex. but when it got to that point…all of this — all these memories — i couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. i didn’t want to get rid of you.”

you reach into the box and pull out a faded, drunkenly-written postcard, chipped-polish nail fiddling with the french stamp in the corner.

“what about the necklace?” vi can’t help but ask. she runs her fingers through the delicate, dried violets from your corsage, which your mom had helped vi pick out a week before prom.

“ekko wanted new sneakers for his birthday, so i did the nobel big sister thing, and sold my most expensive piece of jewellery to pay for them,” you explain. you and vi had instinctively shuffled in closer together, the shoebox balanced on one leg from each of you, your knees touching. “plus — yeah, i was mad at you. god, i hated you — which probably was the reason i started going out with drea in the first place, and i’m really, really sorry that i did. but, i need you to know — i never stopped caring about you. i never stopped loving you, violet, and i don’t think i ever will. ”

silence stretches between you. vi stares at you in the warm living room light — how your eyes are darker, your lips parted, shoulders curling in to protect your bleeding heart. vi gently takes the postcard from you and places the shoebox on the floor.

“i never stopped loving you, either,” she promises, placing her now thawed hands on your cheeks. “and i don’t think i ever will.”

you smile softly as vi leans in closer, her eyes flickering between yours and your lips. you nod; vi presses her lips to yours, a tender vow that grows into something hungrier, something with teeth.

“gentler,” you tell her as you pull away slightly. you want to take your time, inhale the dizzying nicotine in her lungs, savor the acidic red wine on her tongue.

“gentler?” vi’s already eager, though, her hand inching up your thigh.

“slower, violet.”

vi shudders as you trail your fingers over the tattoo on her neck. “have i ever told you how much i love it when you say my name?”

“drea definitely wasn’t a fan of that habit,” you confess with a guilty grin. “one of the reasons we broke up is because, well...i kept accidentally saying your name during sex.”

“really?” vi chuckles darkly, a lightning bolt of possessiveness striking through her. “fucked you so good that i ruin you for other girls, hm?”

you roll your eyes, then suck in a breath when vi dips her fingers beneath your underwear, finding you wet and waiting.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re soaking. all this, just for me?”

“hm, i don’t know. drea did look pretty good in that dress,” you tease — because you know how to push vi’s buttons, too. “i have to admit, she was a pretty decent fuck.”

“don’t,” she warns, but her eyes are burning with desire.

you smirk, slipping your hand underneath her shirt. her skin is always warm, but, right now, it’s electric. her abs are sculpted by the gods, pave way to a thick haven of curls between her legs.

“maybe you need to remind me why your name always fell from my lips whenever she’d make me cum.”

vi’s cheeks are red-hot, her heart pounding against your chest as she pushes you onto the couch, and presses her body into yours.

“it would be my genuine pleasure.”

everything else to ash, and you’re left with this: your lace underwear dangling off your ankle as vi pushes your legs over her shoulders. her slick, skilled tongue sliding through your folds and her rough fingers squelching into your hole at an expert pace.

“f-fuck, vi,” you moan, running your fingers through her messy hair. you don’t miss how eagerly she grinds down onto the butter-soft velvet once you start tugging at the strands more firmly.

“feels good, yeah?” she moans like you’re the one fucking her. “i’m the one making you feel good?”

“yes.” you exhale sharply when she sucks on your clit. “i’m close, vi.”

“i know, baby,” she drawls, smirking against your skin.

“don’t stop.” you plead as she sucks a bruise into your thigh, fingers curling into you. “don’t stop, don’t stop —”

and, she fucking stops.

“vi,” you whine.

“uh-uh, you don’t get to cum quite yet, pretty girl.”

she sucks her honey-soaked fingers into her mouth as she gets up from the couch.

you pout, licking your lips even though you wish you could lick hers. “why not?”

“i’m still mad at you,” vi states. “you really did hurt my feelings. how do you plan on making it up to me?”

vi tries to resist, play the part of the jealous, possessive girlfriend — but, god, it’s hard, with how fucked out, how beautiful you look right now: your lips the color of ripe plums, swollen and stained with vi’s lipstick; the curls between your legs twinkling with droplets of your desire; and your eyes glazed over with lust as you gaze up at her from the couch.

“that new strap we got,” you suggest, still breathless. your breasts strain against the now-wrinkled silk of the shirt you’re wearing. vi’s thankful that it’s hers, because she wants nothing more than to rip the fabric off your body. “you — you can fuck me with it.”

“is that what you want?” vi hums, fire burning in her abdomen as she watches you nod eagerly. usually, you’re the one who takes control, and that’s perfectly fine with vi, but tonight….

tonight, she has something to prove.

you’re both naked by the time you reach the bedroom, clothes thrown across the apartment floor as you take turns leaving bites and bruises on exposed areas of the other’s skin. you get down on your knees, the shag carpet shocking your skin as vi looms over you, gnawing at her scarred, kiss-swollen lips. you help her adjust the harness and attach everything accordingly, leaving a kiss on each star glittering across her thigh once you’re done. she makes you wait patiently as she coats the dildo with a healthy amount of lube.

vi offers you her hand, sticky with lube and your essence from earlier, and lifts you to your feet. she kisses you sweetly before pushing you onto the bed.

"turn around," vi instructs. "on your knees."

you comply, already feeling yourself dripping onto the comforter in anticipation. vi kneels behind you on the bed, grasping the plush of your hips between her strong hands. you gasp when she spits onto your hole and starts to fuck into you, inch by inch.

"you okay, baby?" vi asks once she’s halfway inside you.

"yes," you breathe. "keep going.”

so, vi continues gliding further into your silken heat, and once she’s nestled inside you completely, her thighs meeting your ass — that’s when she turns on the vibrations. vi moans, so loud that you’re sure the entire building can hear. she starts grinding into you, but otherwise doesn’t move.

“violet.” you snap your neck back as far as you can, appreciating how perfectly dishevelled vi looks behind you, eyes rolled up to heaven, drool trickling from the corner of her plump lips. “are you gonna keep fucking me any time soon?”

“it’s just so much,” she whines, and continues rutting against you.

it is so much — the waves of pleasure quivering from her body to yours, the subtle burn of her happy trail rubbing against your skin, the melodic timbre of her voice — but it’s not enough.

“i know, baby. but i need more. if you don’t do something now….maybe there’s someone else i can call…”

your words effectively reignite that spark of jealousy, and she growls. vi slips out slightly, only to thrust back in, over and over, until you’re a moaning mess beneath her. your body starts to shake, but before you almost collapse onto your elbows, so vi reaches one hand to your neck and lifts you up so that her pierced nipples brushed against your back.

she kisses the back of your neck, trailing her hand down to pinch one of your nipples and you hiss, dizzy with pain and pleasure. she moves her other hand below the harness, rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles and gathering as much slick as she can. she brings those same fingers, glistening in the moonlight, to your lips, and you let her shove them into your mouth so you can finally taste her.

"this enough for you, greedy girl?" she taunts.

you are greedy, when it comes to her, suckling on her digits like a lollipop while she stretches you open so deliciously, the obscene squelching of your pussy accompanying a symphony of moans and curses.

"yes, violet. f-fuck, yes!"

you feel vi groan against the crook of your neck, where her teeth had been nibbling at the sweat-soaked skin.

“fuck — i need to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

with that, vi flips you over, so she can watch you unravel. she hisses when your nails find purchase on her shoulders, digging down her tattooed back.

“you’re so fucking hot. so gorgeous. i’m so lucky that you’re mine.” vi’s voice is still rough and coarse with lust, but she’s looking at you all wonder-filled and soft-eyed, like you’re a work of art displayed at the louvre. “you….you are mine, right?”

the question is shockingly vulnerable from the woman who’s fucking you at a truly brutal speed, deep enough that you’re sure you’ll feel the lucious ache of her for days now.

you bring your hands to gently cradle her face as you wrap your legs around her hips. vi snakes one of her hands down to rub at your throbbing clit, while the other rests lovingly on your tattooed ribs, where delicate violets bloom.

“i’m yours,” you assure, and your heart glows when she beams above you. “you’re mine too, right?”

vi nods, damp strands of her hair tickling your forehead.

“i’m yours.”

there’s a mess pooling underneath your entangled bodies by the time you’re both finished.

for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, until vi breaks the silence:

“did you say that you brought home a slice of cake?”

the two of you throw on some clothes, throw the sheets in the wash, and vi pulls you into her lap as you share the slice of cake at the kitchen table, chattering about everything and nothing for however long, until vi glances at the oven clock.

“shit — it’s midnight already. guess time flies when you’re having fun.” vi wraps her arms around your middle, and kisses your shoulder. “happy valentine’s day, stargirl.”

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you smile, weaving your fingers through hers. you crane your neck back so you can feed her a bite of cake. “you’re the sweetest.”

“this cake’s pretty sweet, too,” vi jokes. she peppers kisses across your face until you’re giggling, skin sticky with frosting.

“i’m glad you like it,” you laugh. “they do wedding cakes, too, but i think we should explore our options before settling on one for ours.”

vi’s lips pause just as she starts to kiss underneath your jaw.

“do you mean for our wedding?” she smirks. “is there something you wanna ask me, stargirl?”

“damn it —” you cough, almost choking on a mouthful of cake. “i - i had this whole thing planned - wait, let me —”

you disappear into the bedroom and reemerge with an intricately painted vase. you hand it to vi and sit in the chair next to her.

“this is what i made in my pottery seminar,” you explain. “it’s supposed to be like —”

“that mural you made of us senior year,” vi finishes, looking between the vase and you with stars in her eyes.

“exactly. except we won’t have to spend saturday detention painting over it.” you chuckle at the memory as vi shakes her head with a small smile dancing across her lips knowingly. “i was gonna promise to bring my beautiful wife fresh flowers for this vase every week and then i was gonna ask you to look inside….” you gesture at vi to do so, and she reaches in to pull out a velvet box. “and then i was gonna get down on one knee —”

“it’s okay — you’ve already done plenty of that tonight,” vi laughs, and you bump her shoulder playfully.

“and i was gonna tell you that i love you, that i have for basically my whole life, and that i want to spend the rest of it with you,” you finish, heart fluttering in your chest.

“i can’t believe you were going to propose to me.” vi places the vase on the kitchen counter behind her, smiling at you softly.

“is that a yes or….?”

instead of answering, vi walks over to the couch, reaches behind and pulls up a heart-printed gift bag, and hands it to you. she watches intently as you pull out a turquoise-blue collar.

“damn, i did not know you were this kinky.” you raise an eyebrow at vi. “so, is this a yes to my proposal or….just something you just wanna try in the bedroom?”

“w-what? no!” vi stutters, her cheeks blooming pink. “i mean, yes! well – okay, i also had this plan for valentine’s day.” it’s very endearing, how vi’s scrambling to find the right words. your punk rock girlfriend, flustered and lovesick for you. “okay — there’s a dog at the shelter i thought we could adopt. i brought home the paperwork for us to fill out, if that’s what you want — it’s all in there. there’s a picture of him, too.”

you reach in the bag again and find a printed photo of an adorable brown lab with the warmest eyes.

“he’s adorable,” you squeal. “does he have a name?”

“scooby, of course.” vi grins. “so, do you wanna adopt a dog together?”

“i do.”

“i love the sound of that,” vi hums. “there’s one more thing in there for you….”

it’s a ring pop — and you’re not sure if it’s the sugar rush, or the woman getting down on one knee and asking you, so tenderly, so sweetly, to marry her, but your heart is absolutely soaring.

“we might have to tell our kids a more pg version of the night we got engaged,” vi whispers later, when you’re back cuddling in bed under fresh sheets.

“kids?” you twist around in vi’s arms to find her grinning at you. “is there something you want to ask me?”

“is scooby not our first child?” vi guffaws and you poke her ribs at her cheekiness.

“true.”

“besides, you know what they say, stargirl,” she practically sings. “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes —”

you cut her off with a sugary, confetti-flavored kiss, your smiles melting into one.

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starryjake · 7 months ago

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Heyy girl I’m obsessed with your writing could you do like what would enhypen do if they were jealous? I feel like that would be sooo good! 🙋‍♀️🔥🔥

(a/n sorry this took me forever to post 😍😍)

heeseung: def the most nonchalant about it. like you couldn’t even tell he was jealous at the bar you guys were at with friends, so that’s why you were so shocked when you two got home and he was suddenly taking it all out on you.

fucks you rly rly hard and rough, gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave finger imprints. he’s def hitting it from behind because it’s the position where he can be roughest and manhandle you the easiest. he’s just spitting out the nastiest, dirtiest sentences to you. :(

“i don’t want another guy in your vicinity ever again,” he spat. “you fucking hear me?”

you sniffled, turning your head to the side. your entire body bounced from just how hard he was giving it to you.

“yes,” you whimpered out.

he grabbed you by the cheeks and forced your head to look at him.

“can’t hear you,” he nearly growled.

“yes, heeseung!” you repeated. “don’t even want any other men—fuckkk—near me.”

he slapped your ass harshly and continued pounding you. you were practically dripping wet so he just knew you were enjoying this.

“that’s what i thought, princess.”

would cum all over you to mark HIS territory!

jay: visibly pissed. it just makes him SEETHE seeing another man trying to flirt with HIS girl. and it makes him even more pissed that you’re so oblivious, not catching on at all that this guy clearly fucking wants you.

still, he’s a gentleman. once you walk back over to him, he forces a smile and tries his very best to not show that anything is wrong. he ushers you to the car, eager to get the hell home.

you’re barely through the door when his arms are wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his body.

“you know who you belong to, baby, don’t you?” he asks, dark eyes scanning your face.

“you, jay,” you say, slightly confused as to why he would even ask that. “you know that.”

“yeah,” he mutters. “do me a favor, yeah? go upstairs and get on the bed. i want you naked and i want your legs spread, hear me?”

how he could be so soft spoken yet stern at the same time was beyond you.

“jay, wha—”

“now, angel.”

you don’t argue. you’re quick to leap upstairs to your shared bedroom and strip out of your clothes and undergarments, laying spread on the bed just like he told you to.

five minutes later and jay is between your legs, giving you the most sloppy, toe-curling, delicious head of your life. he’s absolutely worshipping your pussy, making out with your clit and diving his tongue into your dripping hole.

“fuck, jay!” you cry out, shamelessly grinding your pussy against his face.

“my fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your folds. “no one will ever eat this pretty cunt like i do. all mine.”

his words send you flying over the edge, and you’re quick and eager to return the favor to him once you’re done.

jake: my pouty baby :( the type to get the saddest out of all of them, starting to feel insecure when he saw you talking to another guy and laughing so hard at what he was saying.

when you made your way back over to jake, he was quiet and out of it, so it was clear something was wrong. however, he said it was nothing, so you dropped it.

back at home, he’d be clingier than usual which gave you the impression that something was wrong, but you still didn’t know what.

it was only when you’d be getting ready for bed that jake would ask something like, “you only love me, right?”

and then by that sentence alone, you just knew he was jealous. to prove how much you loved him and only him, you showed it to him in the best way possible.

that was how you ended up kneeling between his legs with his cock all the way down your throat. he would be so much more sensitive than normal, feeling like electricity was flying through his body every time he thrusted into your mouth.

you felt so bad for making him think you could’ve ever been attracted to anyone else, so you let him fuck your mouth as long as he wanted, not even minding how much you were gagging and how much saliva was drooling out the sides of your mouth.

you swallowed all his cum because you’re his good girl after all <33

sunghoon: like heeseung, doesn’t really show that he’s jealous. he just gets super quiet and you literally have to PRY it out of him to find out what’s wrong.

“just don’t like how that guy was lookin’ at you,” he would mutter, avoiding eye contact at all costs since he’s so embarrassed. :(

you would feel so bad and you just want to make him feel better, so you do so in the way you know he’ll enjoy the most: riding him. <3

he watches with blown out eyes as you sink down onto his cock, both of you letting out a sigh of pleasure simultaneously. it never got old: that feeling of first being intertwined with each other.

you plant your hands on his abs for leverage and slowly raise yourself up before lowering back down, slowly milking his long cock.

within a few minutes, you’re bouncing rapidly up and down his length and his lips are attached to your nipples. he’s moaning around the hard bud and your fingers are tangled in his hair.

“i love you,” you tell him through heavy breaths. “just you, hoonie. fuck.”

he’d look up and attach his lips to yours, embracing you in a kiss before he dumps his load deep into your pussy and keeps his cock stuffed inside you for the rest of the night.

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jazziejax · 2 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐕 *𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Things get a little heated between Smoke and Juicy…more than once. But it’s also kind of cute.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild sensual tension, soft dom undertones, food play(??), suggestive dialogue, light language. (let me know if I missed any!)

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - this was honestly just something cute after all the love from my last chapter. If you guys keep it up with the feedback, trust, you’ll get more and more chapters out of me. ALSO, before you even start, this is heavily out of character. Halfway through, I realized this is more Stack coded and unless you’re nit-picky like me, it might not bother you. If you are, just close your eyes and imagine this is Smoke without all the trauma. I hope you guys enjoy! Sorry for the grammar mistakes and spelling errors!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,966+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 | 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

Ever since that day after the skating rink, ever since the kiss they shared on her porch, Juicy had been over the moon whenever it came to Elijah Moore. Simply seeing him made a huge smile appear on the girls face, and though they hadn’t really agreed on what they were, even talked about it really, they were less than subtle.

Their eyes met every time the other entered the room, with stares that said more than they knew. Their lingering touches went untied, but they each felt the connection that seared between them. Their laughs were shared as usual, but there was a softness behind them that wasn’t there before.

They were not different. They were still the same.

But now new feelings were in the mix and things had started to shift into something more. Something more longing. Something more…lustful.

It first started after a long day Juicy and Mary working during the hair salon rush, she and Smoke sit on the porch alone. Stack was on her couch, asleep after the meal she and Sinclair made, and Mary was at home, getting ready for a date. Juicy was tired, barefoot, her legs in his lap while she eats from a bowl of peaches she’d sliced earlier.

Smoke watches her, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of her ankle.

“Why are you eatin’ like that?” He asked, and his voice was a bit hoarse from not speaking for a while, and now that he did.

“Like what?” The girl questioned, just before she slurped an another peach slice into her mouth.

“Like you tryna drive me crazy, girl.” He responded, causing her face to heat up at his innuendo. She let out a small laugh, but her voice is breathier than she means.

Ever since their kiss, sly comments like that have been having more of an impact on her than before. At first, she’d simply blush with a small laugh as she tried not to let her mind race, but now, she had this primal urge to pounce on him whenever she saw him, and his words didn’t make it any better.

Feeling bold, she leans forward, with the objective to feed him one of her slices and maybe say something as suggestive in response. But, just like that, his face was in bed from hers. And the world seemed to still around them as her breath got caught in her throat.

She slowly raised her fork to his lips, the dripping fruit leaking into the bowl she held up under his chin. Her eyes flickered from his intense eyes that never left her, and the fruit hanging between them.

He didn’t open his mouth until the peach was rubbed against his plump lip, and Juicy wanted to clench his legs as she watched his long tongue peek out as he took the fruit into his mouth.

He was barely done chewing before they were both leaning in, their eyes closed. And when their lips touched,she couldn’t help but think that the peach tastes way better on his lips. It wasn’t until he his tongue graced her lips didn’t she pull back from the kiss, an overwhelming feeling taking over her.

But Smoke took it as something else. He simply nodded before speaking gently. “Whenever you ready.” He said, his large hands subconsciously rubbing at her leg.

And Juicy simply continued eating her peaches, though they seemed a little closer now. And that moment stayed between them, warm and glowing like the sun touching her skin.

And those moments became more bold as time went on. Tension rose, feelings peaked and moments lingered.

The overhead bell of the Crown & Glory Beauty Supply store jingled softly as Smoke pushed the glass door open. It was dead in the store—just the faint buzz of an old fan rattling from a corner and a box TV in the top corner playing 106 & Park on low. The air-conditioning was working overtime, but it still couldn’t keep up with the summer heat beating against the glass windows. It was hot outside—real hot—the kind of heat that made everybody move just a little slower.

Juicy was behind the counter, leaning over a fashion magazine with a chewed-up pen between her fingers, glasses low on her nose, lips glossed just enough to look edible. It was new, a sparkly peach color that had a bit of flavor. He’d know, he’d tasted it when she first bought it.

Her hair was up in a messy up do, a slightly puffy roller set that was in need of a redo by her standards, with two curls escaping at the front to frame her face. She wore her name on a gold necklace and a cherry red tank top that clung to every curve like a second skin. She looked up when she heard the door, and saw Smoke stepping inside, her whole expression shifted—eyes bright, mouth soft, body leaning back with that familiar little grin she always tried to bite back.

“You ain’t supposed to be here.” She said, but there was no real protest in her voice. Only that teasing lilt he had grown addicted to. “You might make me forget I’m on the clock.”

Smoke grinned and held up a white plastic bag with ‘Thank you’ plastered over the front. “What if I said I brought you lunch?”

Juicy’s stomach answered before she could, and she rolled her eyes, laughing as she grabbed her little purse from under the counter. “Let me tell Keisha I’m takin’ my lunch break before you turn me into a damn stereotype.” Smoke chuckled low as he watched her lean over the little half-door to call into the back. “Keish! I’m takin’ my lunch now. I’ll be back in thirty.”

“You got forty-five.” Keisha called back. “But only if you bring me a pineapple soda.”

Juicy didn’t answer, just gave Smoke a playful side-eye as she walked out from behind the counter and toward the door, hips swaying with nothing but pure temptation in her denim shorts. “Come on, Mr. Delivery Boy.” She said as she passed him, while Smoke watched her as she licked his lips.

The sun hit them hard the moment they stepped outside. Smoke held the door open to his cutlass for her, parked just under the shade of a half dead oak tree off center of the stores entrance. The inside smelled like Black Ice air freshener and a little bit like him, clean clothes, cologne, and something vaguely minty.

He slid into the drivers seat and handed her the paper bag before she’d even fully shuffled into her seat. She took it, eyes wide with creepy delight, already knowing what he’d gotten her. Smoke helped her take the food out, and held the white Styrofoam to-go plate like an offering. “Figured you’d forget to eat. Got you the ten piece lemon pepper from Dock’s.”

Juicy blinked, then her lips parted in a slow grin. “You got me the good fries?”

“Seasoned and crispy. Just how you like it.”

“Mmm.” She reached out for the plate and brushed his fingers as she took it, her nails freshly done in that glittery nude pink he noticed last night when they were tangled up on her bed whispering secrets into each other’s necks. “You’re spoiling me.” She said with a little smirk, already opening the box and letting the smell take her over. “You’re gonna make me expect this every shift.” She said as she grabbed a fork to pick her fries.

Smoke leaned back in his seat, his eyes taking her in without shame. “Maybe I like spoilin’ you.”

Juicy tried not to blush, but it came anyway, spreading warm and rosy across her cheeks. She sat back in the passenger seat and picked at the fries first, licking the Cajun salt from her fingertips like she didn’t know it was killing him slowly. Smoke leaned back and watched her pick at the wings, the smell of zesty spice thick in the car. She took one bite and hummed.

“I swear, this might be better than sex.” She said with a mother full.

He arched a brow, watching the way she licked her fingers. “Might?” He questioned.

She smirked and didn’t answer, reaching for a fry instead.

For a while, they sat in easy silence. The windows were cracked just enough to let the summer breeze tease its way in. Smoke tapped a beat against the steering wheel while Luther Vandross’s ‘Take You Out’ played low from the stereo.

They hadn’t exactly told any one of their…relationship, yet. That much was understood without it needing to be said. Not Mary, not Stack, and definitely not Martin, needed to know about why they had going on. It wasn’t out of shame—at least not for Juicy. It was protection. Privacy. It was not wanting to hear her brother’s mouth or deal with Mary’s need for graphic detail or the way girls in the neighborhood would start watching her.

Smoke didn’t push. He never did. He just kept showing up.

At the end of her shift last time, he’d been parked out front with the windows down and Aaliyah playing low, just waiting to walk her to her car. The time before that, they sat in the backseat of his Cutlass for thirty minutes saying goodbye with their mouths and not a single word. His hands had found the small of her back, the inside of her thigh, the curve of her neck. None of it was ever rushed. He was always asking for permission with touch alone.

Now, watching her eat, he had to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out.

“How long you got left?” He asked.

“’Til six. Bianca’s mom coming to drop off some things, and I gotta tag ‘em and put ‘em up front.” She took another bite from a wing, eyes fluttering as she chewed. “This so good. I should slap you.” She hummed.

“You wanna slap me?” He teased, leaning in just a bit. “What happened to all that lovin’ from the other night?”

Juicy’s eyes met his as she sipped from the stare of her cup, and for a moment, everything else went quiet. The radio, the passing car, even the hum of the air conditioning within the vehicle.

“You keep bringin’ me food and walkin’ me to my car like some gentleman, you can get some lovin’ alright.”She said softly, lips curving into a grin. “You gon’ mess around and make me soft, Smoke.” She pouted, faking annoyance with him.

“Maybe I want that.” Smoke said, his voice low, head tilted. “You already soft in all the right places.” He smirked, his head tilted as he looked her up and down.

Juicy didn’t know how to respond to that, she just looked at him for a long second. Her eyes were deep brown, like pools of warm syrup, and they narrowed just enough to let him know she was feeling it.

“Anyway.” She said, turning her eyes back to her plate. “You don’t gotta keep doing all this.”

Smoke leaned closer, his hand sliding across the center console to tap her wrist. “You don’t want me to?”

Juicy’s lips parted just enough to suck in a breath. “I didn’t say that.” She murmured.

He gave her a crooked smile, one that pulled slow and easy like honey off the spoon.

“Then hush and eat.”

She smiled like she couldn’t help herself. “You gon’ wait here until I’m off?” She asked, playing with a fry.

“Maybe.” He said before glancing at his gold watch. “Maybe I’ll wait outside. Or maybe I’ll go nap and come back. But I’ll be here.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but it didn’t match the quiet joy stretching across her face. “You need to stop acting like we go together.” She said, letting her impulsive thoughts win as typed with him.

Smoke leaned closer, voice brushing her ear. “Oh, we don’t?” He questioned, already knowing what game the bratty girl was trying to play with him, so he decided to play a different one.

She paused, the bite of her fry halfway to her mouth. Her lips twitched again, this time with something softer—something unsure but open. “Boy, go on somewhere.” She whispered, turning her eyes away from him.

But he stayed right there. Watching her eat. Watching her smile. Watching her pretend like they weren’t already wrapped up in something they couldn’t name yet—but it was definitely felt.

“Oh, I can’t be on your space now?” He questioned, leaning a bit closer over the console, his eyes trailing her face. “This my car, I can be where I want.”

“You’re gonna smell my breath, Smoke, move.” Juicy said, leaning away from him a bit, just as he was trying to trial his lips closer to her.

He didn’t flinch. “So?”

“My breath probably smells. And that fruit punch ain’t made it no better.” She said, looking over at him, her hand over her mouth as if to block the smell from reaching him. Smoke simply started into her eyes, the only thing he could see over her hands. His eye bounced between hers as he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. “Still wanna taste it.”

Juicy’s whole body went still, the corner of her lips twitching like she was fighting something. She turned to face him fully, one leg tucked under her. “You are real bold today, huh?” She questioned, letting her hand drop.

Smoke leaned in more, his palm resting on the back of her seat, his eyes locked onto her mouth. “You been sneakin’ around with me in parking lots and empty rooms for how many days now?” He retorted. “It ain’t about being bold, baby.”

She didn’t answer, only nipped at her bottom lip.

“You lettin’ me touch all up on you, makin’ me wait just to kiss you again…”

“You already kissed me.” She said, soft as a confession.

“Yeah.” He said, his thumb now brushing against her jawline. “But it ain’t enough. Not when I think about it every time you walk away from me.”

Juicy’s eyes fluttered closed for a half-second, the tension so thick it hung in the car like fog.

She opened her eyes again, and they were darker now, shaded in lust and something tender. “I’m really feelin’ you, Smoke.” She murmured. “I just don’t want nobody in my business yet. Not my brother, not Mary, nobody. Not ‘til I know this is real.”

Smoke nodded slowly. “Then let me show you it is.”

He leaned in again—closer this time—and just before their lips met, she pulled back and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Wait, wait, wait.” She said, laughing softly. “I told you. My breath probably smells like lunch.”

Smoke smirked. “I told you. I don’t care.”

Then he kissed her.

Soft at first, warm and slow, like a question he already knew the answer to. Juicy melted into it, her hand slipping behind his neck, her lips parting without hesitation. He kissed her like he’d been waiting since the rink, since the last car meetup, since every sideways glance and half-second pause between them.

She sighed into him, her body turning so her knee brushed his thigh, and his hand slid down to her waist, tugging her closer. Her fries were forgotten on the dash, the radio hummed on, and somewhere in the distance, construction work buzzed—but all she could focus on was the way his fingers pressed into her hip, the heat of his mouth, the way he kissed her like she was his favorite food and he was starving.

By the time they pulled apart, her lip gloss was gone and her heart was racing.

Smoke looked at her, thumb brushing the side of her face like she was fragile, like he was still tasting her.

“Is that real enough for you, Juicy?”

She caught her breath, smirk tugging at her lips.

“It’s a start.” She said cheekily.

Smoke laughed, low and warm, already leaning in again.

And outside, the sun beat on the windows, heavy and golden, while Aaliyah’s voice floated from the tiny TV in the corner:

“Boy, I’ve been watching you like a hawk in the sky…”

The next time was about a week later, and they were sort of high off not seeing each other for a minute.

The house was quiet. The kind that came only when the day had finally exhaled. A low hum from the box fan in the corner of her room carried through the walls, but otherwise, silence blanketed the place like the thick heat outside.

Tyson was down for bed, knocked out cold after a long afternoon of playing with his toy dinosaurs, goldfish crackers, and singing Whitney Houston songs off-key around the house. Sinclair was out on a date with some boy guy, and Martin was God-knows-where, probably laid up with the flavor of the week. The house was Juicy’s for the night, and she’d planned to take full advantage of that.

She had just slipped into her favorite silk moomoo—champagne-pink and ultra soft, loose fitting but clinging in just the right places while letting everything else breathe. Her legs were smooth, freshly shaven and moisturized, and her roller set was tightly secured beneath a silk, butter-colored scarf. Her room smelled like bag champa incense and cocoa butter, a familiar blend of calm and comfort. The lights were dim, casting a warm amber glow from her bedside lamp. Juicy glanced at the clock. 10:46 p.m.

She was leaning over her nightstand, lighting a second stick of incense when a sharp tap-tap at the window made her jump.

Her heart stuttered.

Wide-eyed, she turned slowly, suspicious, hand hovering near her dresser drawer where she kept her little knife—just in case. Another knock followed, softer this time. She crept toward the window, staying low, her silk moomoo brushing against the floor as she moved. She peeked between the slats of her blinds and gasped.

Smoke.

Standing outside her window, straight faced, his stature intense as if he could see through the blinds. His gold chain glinted under the streetlight, and he lifted his hand in a slow wave, eyes locked on hers.

Juicy let out a tiny squeal, panicking. “Oh my God,” she whispered to herself, yanking the curtain closed.

Her room turned dark again, but her mind was racing. She spun around, clutching her moomoo. Why tonight? Why when she had her scarf on, her rollers showing through the wrap? She felt so exposed, caught mid-transformation. She wasn’t cute, she wasn’t ready.

She paced, muttering, “Why the hell would he come tonight? I look crazy…” She was in distress.

Then, from outside, his voice cut through the quiet.

“I’ve already seen you in your rollers.” He said, cool and calm, like he was talking with his lips pressed against her skin instead of standing on the other side of a pane of glass. “Open the window, Juicy.”

She froze. Could he hear me? She thought.

Her breath was caught in her throat, somewhere between embarrassment and excitement. Then, with a soft curse and a helpless little pout, she padded back over to the window and lifted it with a quiet creak. A second later, Smoke was climbing through like some bad-ass high school boyfriend in a ’80s movie. It seems easy and he seemed unbothered, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

His feet touched down on her carpet and his eyes immediately swept over her.

“Damn.” He said, voice a little lower now. “You always look good, but this right here? Yeah…this different.” He said, his tongue peeking out to trace over his bottom lip.

Juicy crossed her arms, suddenly shy. “Don’t start…” She warned.

“I’m serious.” He said, taking a slow step closer. “I don’t know why you hidin’ from me like I ain’t seen you in a bonnet before.”

“This ain’t no bonnet.” She said, fussing gently, cheeks warm. “This a roller set. Whole different level of ugly.”

He chuckled. “Ugly where?”

“You’re blind, Smoke.”

“Nah.” He said, taking her hand. “I see just fine.”

And that was all it took for her shoulders to drop a little, her nerves to settle into something soft and warm.

She turned from him to straighten her bed, trying to keep her hands busy. “And now what’s given you the gall to show up this time of night?”

“Ain’t nobody home but you and the baby.” He said, settling onto the edge of her bed. “And he sleep, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, but you know how Sinclair be. If she find out you was over here this late, she gon’ tell everybody and they mama.”

Smoke leaned back on his palms, his chain sliding against his chest. “Then I guess we better be quiet.”

Juicy turned slowly to face him, chin lifted in that defiant little way she always did when she was trying to keep herself from melting. “Smoke…” She trailed off, trying not to grin as she fluffed the pillow, avoiding his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I missed you.” He said, voice dipping again as she changed the subject. And by the way he rushed it out, it’s been meaning to come off his tongue since he first laid eyes on her. “Been runnin’ all week, tryna get shit done with Stack. I been thinkin’ ‘bout you, though. How you sound.” He began, his hands trailing over to her, pulling her closer by the fabric of her gown. “How you taste.” His raised his hand to light grace over her lips, which were buttered in chapstick. “How you make them little sounds when I kiss on that spot right there…” He reached up and brushed his fingers gently along the side of her neck.

Juicy shivered, tucking her neck a bit. “You can’t keep doin’ this…” She mumbled with a small pout.

“Doin’ what?”

“Showin’ up late, and sayin’ stuff that makes me forget why I said you couldn’t come over in the first place.”

He grinned slowly, a look Juicy knew was dangerous. “Then don’t say I can’t come over.” He shrugged, as if it was such a simple solution.

She rolled her eyes but her smile gave her away. “You get on my nerves.”

Smoke stood and stepped toward her, closing the small gap between them. “Good.” He said, hands sliding to her waist. “Then you gon’ really hate this.”

He leaned in slow, lips almost brushing hers when she suddenly pulled back a little, nose scrunching up.

“Wait.” She whispered, laughing nervously. “I just brushed my teeth…”

Smoke paused, then smirked.

“And?”

“And that’s nasty!”

“I don’t care if your breath smell like hot dogs at a block party.” He said, lowering his voice. “I still want it.”

She let out a laugh, hand lightly pushing at his chest. “Oh, you’re nasty.”

Then he kissed her, something warm and deep. And just like that, they melted.

The kiss grew, slow but intense, their bodies pressing close, her silk moomoo whispering as it moved between them. It deepened naturally, his hands resting gently on her waist while hers slid around his neck. His hands roamed gently, not grabbing but holding onto her he was trying to memorize every curve. Juicy kissed him back, one hand curling around the back of his neck, the other resting softly on his chest.

The incense smoke curled around them.

His touch was slow, reverent, but had an unmistakable heat underneath them. When he backed her against the dresser, one hand sliding along the small of her back, she gasped softly, then caught her breath in his mouth.

Her silk moomoo slipped between his fingers like water.

The incense kept burning. Outside, the world kept spinning, but inside that room, it was just the two of them, quiet and tangled, while suspended in heat and candlelight. They stayed locked in that moment, breath against breath, a love they weren’t ready to explain yet.

Eventually, Juicy pulled away, breathing a little harder, her lips kiss-swollen, eyes heavy and breath barely above a whisper. “You better go.” She whispered. “I don’t stay too long. You know I gotta be up early.”

Smoke rested his forehead against hers. “I ain’t stayin’. Just needed to see you.”

She brushed her fingers across his cheek. “I know.”

Then he kissed her once more before he turned to the window. But before he left, he glanced back at her over his shoulder and grinned. “You look real good in that, you know. Like, a housewife or some, might have to get you another.”

Juicy couldn’t fight her grin as she grabbed her pillow and threw it at him, laughing softly. “Get out, boy.”

He caught it easily, flashed a smirk before he tossed it back at her, and disappeared out the window into the thick summer night. Leaving Juicy standing in her incense filled, candle lit room, heart thudding against her moomoo, smiling like a woman who had it bad.

And then there were the soft moments between them neither questioned.

Two days later, the sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the neighborhood as Juicy walked over to Stack and Smoke’s place with a plastic bag hanging from her hand. She held Missy’s peach cobbler mingling with the buttery scent of her famous pecan pie. Tucked beneath it were still-warm containers from Sinclair cooking—fried catfish, cabbage, and macaroni and cheese with a crunchy, golden crust.

Juicy had just planned to drop it off. She assumed both men were home—maybe out back playing dominoes or arguing over the game on TV. So she didn’t bother calling, didn’t reapply her lip gloss, didn’t even leave with the intention of staying long. She had plans with Mary, anyway, to get their nails done and gossip.

But inside of the More residence, the house was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of weed and linen spray. The blinds were turned just enough to let in slats of warm afternoon light, stretching across the hardwood like tiger stripes. It was one of the rare days Stack wasn’t home—off somewhere chasing money or women or both—and the place felt too quiet without his usual loud presence. Smoke didn’t liked it that way.

But there was nothing he could do about it, so he had just settled on the couch, a blunt half-rolled between his fingers, when a soft knock landed on the front door.

He knew that knock. And he was giddy about it before even getting up, though his face didn't really show it.

When he opened the door, there she was. His Juicy, dressed in a fitted white tank top and jeans that hugged her hips just right, gold earrings swaying gently with every movement and and her baby fat belly peeking out proudly, crowned by a ruby-studded belly ring that glinted in the sun. She held a little plastic grocery bag in her hand like she was just dropping something off, like she hadn't planned this.

When Juicy knocked, she expected Stack’s voice booming through the door or both of them calling out to her. But instead, it was Smoke who opened it—shirtless, as usual, his chain glinting in the light and his black durag still on.

“Oh.” She said, blinking.

His lips curved. “Oh?”

“I thought both y’all was here.”

“Nah. Stack out handling something. Just me,” he said, stepping aside and nodding her in. “Come on.”

She hesitated only for a second before stepping into the house. The cool air brushed against her skin, goosebumps rising as the scent of sandalwood and cologne hit her nose. Her skin was glistening from her coco butter later and smelled like brown sugar and his eyes trailed her figure as she walked by.

She set the bag on the kitchen counter and was already turning to leave when she felt him. His presence was close, his body blocking her path without even touching her.

“Where you going?” Smoke asked softly.

Juicy tilted her head, eyes narrowing, but her lips twitched. That voice of his. That low, patient, and just on the edge of coaxing voice, always meant trouble.

“I just came to drop these off.” She said, brushing invisible lint off her shirt. “Mary’s waitin’ on me. We supposed to go get our nails did.”

He didn’t move.

“I want you to fix me a plate.”

Juicy raised a brow. “You want me to fix you your plate?” She repeated, a bit take aback by his audacity.

“I’m hungry.” He said, voice deeper now, eyes still gentle. “Come on, Juicy.” He pleaded.

She let out a breathy laugh, not even bothering to hide her smile now. “Alright, damn. Let me wash my hands.”

In the kitchen, she moved like she’d done it a hundred times before. Opened the cabinets, found the plates without asking, scooped a fat helping of mac and cheese onto a plate, along with some catfish and added a side of cabbage, warmed it up in the microwave all while Smoke leaned against the fridge and watched her with something that looked dangerously close to adoration.

When the microwave dinged, she grabbed a fork, set it on the plate, and handed it to him.

But he didn’t take it.

Instead, he jutted his head before he turned and walked to the living room, flopping back onto the couch with the blunt now behind his ear, juicy following.

When juicy stood there, his plate and fork in her hands, Smoke looked back up at her and then patted the cushion next to him. Juicy narrowed her eyes. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“Come on, Juicy.” He said again, sweet and smooth and far too tempting.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, but made her way over and sat beside him, holding the plate out to him again. But Smoke simply looked over at her again, a rare playful glint in his eyes, and Juicy was rolling her eyes at him before he even opened his mouth.

“You ain’t gon’ feed me?” He asked.

“Boy, what?” She asked, scoffing softly, though her amusement was apparent as she held a small smile at him. Smoke snaked his lips, cutting his eyes at her. “Come on, Juicy.” He said, and his voice was soft but thick with something heavier. Something that sat right beneath the surface and made her heart skip just a little. She stared at him, lips parted, that nervous excitement fluttering in her chest when she noticed how…domesticated this felt and how soft it was. She could feel her body heat rise. He was shirtless, gold chain glinting, and close enough that she could count the lashes on his eyes.

“Okay.” She agreed before she broke a piece of the fish and brought it to his lips. He took it, slow, like he was tasting her fingers as much as the food. She rolled her eyes and fed him a bite of mac and cheese next. He let out a low groan of approval that sent heat curling up her spine.

“You gon’ spoil me.” He murmured between bites.

“Ain’t that what you want?” She asked, smirking.

He looked at her, eyes soft and unreadable. “I want you.”

She cut her eyes to him as she gather food onto the fork and held it in front of his mouth. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” And they sat down on the couch beside, and she feed him for a while, with the plate and fork in hand. The vibe had shifted into something playful to soft. The television played in the background, an episode of The Sparanos, humming low through the TV speakers.

She fed him fork after fork, laughing when he groaned dramatically at how good the food was, rolling his eyes and leaning back like he couldn’t take it. Juice wiped a bit of hot sauce from the corner of his mouth with her thumb and licked it away.

“You act like you ain’t never ate before.”

“I ain’t never ate like this.” He teased.

When the plate was clean, she started gathering it up, brushing crumbs off her lap. “Alright, I gotta go. Mary gon’ think I stood her up—”

“Hold up.” Smoke said, stretching. “I ain’t get dessert yet.”

“You want dessert?” The girl asked, a bit sassily as she placed her hands on her hip. “Yeah, I want something sweet.”

She rolled her eyes but was smiling too hard to pretend she meant it. “Fine. Pecan pie or cobbler?”

He pointed at her. “You pick.”

“That was the entrée. I want somethin’ sweet.”

She went to the kitchen and cut him a slice of Missy’s pecan pie. This time, she sat closer. Their thighs touched, as she fed him bite after bite while he kept his eyes on her, not the TV. Her fingers brushed his lips as she fed him, and he kissed the pad of her thumb when she wasn’t expecting it.

“Boy, don’t start.”

“I ain’t even done nothin’ yet.”

By the time the plate was clean, they were both smiling and too close. They laughed at something dumb on the screen and Juicy shook her head and almost dropped the fork when Smoke licked a bit of filling off her finger instead of letting her wipe it. “You a mess.” She murmured, but her tone was fond.

He took the plate and set it on the coffee table, then leaned forward, brushing his lips across her jaw before resting his forehead against hers. “Let me take you to Mary’s.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

So she gave in. Of course she did.

She climbed in his car, trying not to smile the whole time. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh, slow strokes up and down that kept her distracted the entire ride. The windows down and the radio humming some slow R&B track that made her cheeks warm.

They didn’t talk much—just let the cicadas hum outside and the warm summer breeze float through the cracked window.

When they pulled up in front of Mary’s, she started to unbuckle, but he caught her wrist.

“Hold on.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded stack of bills. She tried to protest, but he shook his head.

“Smoke—”

“Get somethin’ extra. Gel or whatever y’all get.”

“You know I don’t need your money.” She whispered.

“I know. But I want you lookin’ good for me. You not payin’ for your own nails and toes when I’m around. That’s mine now.”

She looked at him, lips parted, unsure whether to argue or melt.

“You always doin’ the most.” She muttered, cheeks hot. And he didn’t answer, he just leaned in and kissed her, deep and slow. It was soft and slow on the cheek, just behind the curve of her jaw, before it moved to her lips. A hand found the small of her back, and before she could fully process the moment, he took a handful of her denim covered bottom into his hand, causing Juicy to let out a small yelp into his mouth. When he pulled back, and she was on her way out of the car, he gave her a light smack her on the bottom as she stepped out of the car. “Go on now, Juicy.”

She stumbled out the car, heart racing, money clutched in her hand, cheeks redder than cherry polish. She let out a tiny squeal and grinned all the way up the walkway. She walked into Mary’s house still smiling.

Mary was in the living room, filing her nails. “What you grinnin’ for?”

Juicy simply let out a sigh, fluttering her eyes to make sure this was still real life. “Don’t worry about it.” She muttered, waving her off. But the grin didn’t fade. Not even a little.

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saerins · 1 year ago

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ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk imagines #bllk sae x reader #blue lock sae x reader #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi sae imagines #sae imagines #blue lock imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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jinxs-gf · 10 months ago

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snack thief

the team x spider!reader

summary: someone is stealing your snacks and you’re going to figure out who.

content, warnings: kind of a crack fic, spider cusses a lot? not proofread

word count: 1.8k

a.n. Aunt May mentioned! who cheered?

It was peaceful in the confines of Mount Justice. So peaceful it was almost suspicious to the team. They barely get downtime nowadays, something they used to practically beg for. Now all they want is a break.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful.

Until they hear their friend scream bloody murder.

Spider.

Everyone jumps up, alarmed and ready to fight.

You're in the kitchen holding an empty container, the refrigerator wide open, and looking more stressed out than they've ever seen you. But there was no threat?

The team is still worried but confused. There was no one else in the kitchen with you so...? Why were you screaming? And there was seemingly no spider on the container you were holding, the only creature that could scare you bad enough for you to freak out like this. (You denied this claim again and again, unfortunately they didn't believe you. How embarrassing was that? Spider had arachnophobia? How damaging to your reputation.)

You continue to stare at the container, and your friends have concluded their near heart attack at your cry for help was all for not.

Their shoulders all sag simultaneously, breaths of relief leaving their mouths.

Kaldur is the first to speak, "What has gotten into you, Spider? You scared us all." He does not sound happy.

And if you took the time to look at the rest of your teammates, the annoyance would be evident.

But no. You continued to stare at your stupid container.

"Hello!" - Artemis

"Earth to Spider!" - Robin

"We're not getting any younger over here." - Wally

Roy only sighs, shaking his head, Conner raising a brow beside him, amused for the most part.

M'gann just stands quietly, wondering if she should read your mind without your permission to figure out the problem or not.

"Which one of your imbeciles did this?" Your voice was eerily calm...it was disturbing.

They all shared the same sentiment. What?

You glare in their direction, eyeing each one of your supposed friends carefully.

"One of you is the cause of this," you hold up your empty container. "Someone ate my cookies. I've had the worst day of my life and the only thing that could help was having my precious cookies. Only I get here and they're gone!" Ah. They get it now.

"I'm going to find out which one of you is responsible. And it won't be pretty."

"Uhh why was it in the fridge anyways?"

"Shut it Robin. They’re leftovers. And you’re at the top of my suspect list. You and your little buddy there," you eye Wally.

He squirms in his spot.

You were grocery shopping for your aunt when you spotted them.

Spider-Person gummies.

You wince, the name Spider-Person did not roll off the tongue correctly. You prefer Spider like the team calls you. Or maybe Arachnid would be cool? Oh well, it's too late now. The name Spider-Person was plastered onto kid's snacks for Pete's sake! There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. You threw it in your basket and immediately opened the box when you got home. Showing off to Aunt May, she was very proud, just like you thought she’d be. Except for when—

"I always thought you'd be known for curing diseases or something, but children’s snacks? This'll do!"

"Hey!" She was joking of course (right?).

And later that day you brought it to the team's kitchen, wanting to show off to them. You didn't want them to eat it of course, it was going to be your post-mission snack. A little pick-me-up.

No one but Red Tornado was there, which was a little weird but it was a rare day off. You'll just come back when everyone is here.

You made sure to stick a post-it on the box of gummies, effectively claiming them yours that shall not be touched.

You hadn't left your snacks alone in the kitchen of Mount Justice since your cookies disappeared a mere week ago.

You still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

You will. One of these days.

You leave and don't come back until the next day, everyone is there.

"Oh goodie! I have something to show you guys!"

Only you get to the kitchen cabinet, open the box, and...no.

Nonononono

The box of "Spider-Person Gummies" was completely empty.

The box that clearly had your name written with the words "DO NOT EAT!" on the post-it!

You scream like the first time.

"Who did it?!"

The team is a little slower this time around, not trusting your panicked screams after the first incident.

Robin face palms, "Come on spider, it's not that serious."

You gape at him, "Not that serious?! Are you crazy?!" You eye him suspiciously, "it was you, wasn't it?"

"What?! No! I'm just being reasonable here. You can always buy more,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing the bigger picture. Someone is eating your snacks without permission. Deliberately ignoring your name that was written in bold on the post-it stuck to the front. You try a different approach though.

"First of all, I don't exactly come from a background of money. I can't just waste valuable green for some fruit snacks! And second, it was the last box in that section. How do I know they'll be restocked by the time I get back? What if they were there for limited time?!" The thought terrifies you, "oh no."

The team watches you nearly have a breakdown over your gummies "...those snacks are usually less that 10 dollars, Spider."

"And that's too much!"

"You can't be that poor."

"Eh, you'd be surprised."

It’s a full two weeks of the snack thief’s attacks.

Your spidey senses go off at the two week mark and they lead you to the kitchen.

You gasp.

"You!"

Wally is caught mid slice into the chocolate cake you made for the team, he looks petrified at being caught.

His voice cracks, "what?"

"It's been you! I knew it was you!"

"What! No! You made this for the team, right? That's not fair to pin the blame on me when I have permission to eat this!"

Okay, he's got a point.

"Whatever. You're still at the top of my list."

You’re in stealth mode with the rest of the team, waiting for your cue to attack.

You communicate through the mind link to keep yourself from boredom, this is gonna take a while.

You decide to bring up the most recent snack attack.

‘I still need to figure out who this snack thief is. They took my leftover brownies this time! The ones May made for me. Do you know how upsetting it was to see the brownies made by my very precious, hardworking Aunt all gone?’

You hoped to weed the rat out through sympathy.

‘Oh...that was yours?’

‘M'gann!’

‘I'm sorry! I didn't know!’

Just then, Kaldur makes your cue to attack. And before you know it, you’re in battle. However, your mind is elsewhere.

The distraction earns you a kick to the face, your spidey senses were screaming but you couldn't be bothered to really care at the moment, too focused on the fact that M'gann admitted to eating your brownies.

She's the snack thief?! But she was at the bottom of your list...

You regret ignoring your senses immediately, that kick was more powerful that you thought it’d be. Definitely going to bruise later.

‘I'm not the snack thief! I just thought Red Tornado left them! Remember? He said he wanted to be more involved with us outside of missions? I swear I know better! You forgot a post-it with your name this time. I'm really sorry, I should've known.’

You sigh, she sounds too sincere for it to truly be her.

‘It's alright, I forgive you. This time. It was my bad anyways.’

There’s many instances of coincidences as your friends would call it.

Robin caught digging into your chips;

“But you said I could have some!”

“No not those ones! My other chips!”

“Wow, thanks for specifying that.”

Conner caught…eating your candy?!

Conner doesn’t even eat sweets like that, so what changed? Or was that all a ploy? Pretending to not be fond of sweets only to eat yours behind your back…

But his eyes pleaded forgiveness, truth. Damn him.

Roy, Kaldur, and Artemis also had their moments of suspicion.

So who was it?

You only had one more course of action. You beg May to let her borrow your phone.

“It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency that could last all day? Or more?” She lifts a brow, don’t let her intimidate you, Spider.

“Pleeeaaaase,” you bat your lashes at her.

She can’t resist you. The child she’s come to see as her own. You are hers, no one could tell her otherwise. She sighs, “Don’t know why I even try with you.”

“Thanks May!” You plant a kiss on her cheek, “love you!”

“Whatever kid,” trying not to show disappointment in herself for allowing you to get to her.

Set your phone up in the kitchen cabinet of Mount Justice with your snack. Hit FaceTime with Aunt May’s phone and accept on yours.

There’s no way you don’t catch your thief now.

You wait a good 20 minutes before you’re already tired of your plan.

You groan in annoyance, can they hurry up and attempt to take your snack already?!

It takes another three hours before something happens.

Your spidey senses blare, making you jump from your place on the couch with Artemis and Roy. They look at you like you’re crazy, yeah you were getting used to that.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the call.

Whoever is in the kitchen is toast. You look down at May’s phone.

“You!”

“Uh oh.”

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! From the beginning! How could I be so stupid and not listen to my gut?!”

Wally states back at you through the phone screen, eyes wide.

“You lying son of a-”

“Listen, we can talk this out-”

“Put my cookies down! You know damn well my name is written on the box!”

He surrenders, placing the cookies back in its place.

The rest of your team came out to witness this very amusing and long awaited moment.

It was funny, the living room you were in was right next to the kitchen, meaning speaking through the phones was pretty useless. They won’t say anything, lest they catch your attention and get yelled at.

“I’m going to ruin you for what you did, Speedy Bitch.”

Roy hears his code name and it’s enough for him to scare. He holds his hands up, “whoa! What did I do?”

“Not you! Obviously not you!”

You get up from the couch, bolting to your “friend.”

Wally panics, “Someone call Superman! Spider’s gone crazy!” And he books it.

It’s okay. He may be the fastest man alive, but no one messes with a Spider’s food.

so who’s attending Wally’s funeral? definitely not spider.

this is based off a video I saw, someone’s sibling was on FaceTime w a phone in the cabinet to catch who was eating their snacks 💀 I just HAD to use it

#spider & the team #young justice x reader #conner kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x you #superboy x reader #kaldur’ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #wally west x reader #artemis crock x reader #m’gann m’orzz x reader #roy harper x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #dick grayson x reader #omg it’s 2am what am I doing #young justice fanfiction

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darkmatilda · 6 days ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer’s curiosity leads to the exposure of your shared secret

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, reference to spencer and reader getting married in vegas, the secret marriage not so secret anymore, penelope and reid being my favorite sibling duo, reader is trying to murder reid and im saying that with the straightest face imaginable, MASSIVE diva reader lore drop, oh and lowkey angsty ending

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: request

“I’ve got him! I think I’ve got him…” Penelope spun halfway around in her chair, landing at her second monitor and typing rapidly, her fingers flying across the keyboard with focus. Spencer was standing right next to her, one hand resting on the desk, leaning over so he could see the results of her search. If their reasoning was correct, they had just managed to identify the unsub. But it was still too early to celebrate. “It has to be him! Thomas Murphy, 47 years old. Between 1994 and 2005 he worked as a plumber in Seattle before moving in with his now ex-wife… I’m sending you his address.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Hotch replied.

Then the call ended — and that was it from their end. From Garcia’s office, there was nothing else they could do except stay by the phone in case they were needed again. Spencer finally straightened up and then, a bit aimlessly, dropped into the smaller chair beside his friend. Penelope was taking a deep breath and sliding her glasses off her nose to polish them with a yellow cloth patterned with flowers. He stretched out his legs and laced his fingers together over his stomach, trying to push away a certain stupid thought that had just appeared in his head.

“So…” Reid began, trying to convince himself it wasn’t too late to bite his stupid tongue. “We don’t have anything left to do. And I was thinking…”

“That you finally want me to teach you how to play video games?” Penelope offered smoothly, slipping her glasses back on.

Thrown off, Spencer furrowed his brows and wrinkled his nose. “What? N-no, that’s totally not what I meant, I was thinking more like…okay, never mind. It’s stupid.”

For the first time, his friend turned fully to face him, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I forbid you to back out now. I’m far too intrigued. So?”

He held his breath for a moment before exhaling heavily. He could’ve just said nothing. But since he already had… and since he couldn’t shake the idea from his head…

“You know, I’ve been thinking lately about how much information about specific people you’re able to find in such an impressively short amount of time…”

“Oh my goodness, you want me to stalk someone for you!”

Despite the flush on his cheeks, the look on his face was absolutely, deeply, immensely offended.

“Using the word stalking in this context is a serious misuse,” he objected, raising both hands as if shielding himself from the mere suggestion. “And you should know that, working here. Stalking refers to persistent harassment, systematic pursuit and intimidation of a person that causes them fear, anxiety, and a sense of danger — it is definitely not the same as retrieving publicly accessible information from the internet…”

Penelope rolled her eyes dramatically.

“That’s just what people say. But the answer is yes, my love, I’ll happily stalk someone for you.”

Spencer felt like he couldn’t open his mouth and actually ask her to do it out loud. Deep down, he still thought it was stupid. But maybe he gave himself away — that flicker of gratitude in his eyes in response to her readiness. Penelope clapped her hands excitedly, spinning toward the screen.

“Who’s the lucky one? Kidding, you don’t even have to tell me. I know who it is.”

He scoffed at her confidence — how could she possibly know?

“I bet you’re wrong…” His expression fell the moment Garcia pulled up the exact name he’d intended to give her in the first place. He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Okay, yes, that’s who I meant, but it’s not what you think!”

“Sweetie, there’s no need to explain anything to me. I get it completely, even if you don’t get it yet.”

He opened his mouth to disagree, only to find himself stalled by his own words. Especially that second part. He stayed quiet for a long moment, turning them over in his mind. What brought him back was her next question.

“Tell me what you want to know.”

He shrugged, genuinely unsure.

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I want any sensitive, private information or anything I couldn’t ask about myself…”

“Mhmm, just like I thought. Ex-lovers.”

He quickly started shaking his head.

“No… I mean… not exactly…you’re the one who suggested—”

“Wait, did you know she used to be a model?”

Until now sitting with his back fully pressed against the chair’s backrest, Spencer jumped up so fast he nearly smashed his nose on the computer screen. Penelope didn’t even tease him, which indicated she was just as surprised. In the heavy silence, barely blinking, they watched an ad for a lip makeup line from about ten years ago. A brand small enough that they didn’t use real celebrities, but big enough that it was…impressive.

But Spencer wasn’t silent because he was impressed. He was silent, head slightly tilted to the side and lips parted just a little, because he had just realized he had never seen—or even wondered about—how she used to look. Younger, with a different hairstyle and even a different gaze, less experienced and less relentless, but still carrying plenty of confidence. Just not as much as now.

For the record, he also had to admit she was very attractive. But that part hadn’t changed.

Penelope mouthed wow—just the movement of her lips. Or maybe she had said it out loud, but he was slightly dazed, meaning focused on something else, and only registered the movement, not the sound. Either way, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching herself.

“Right. You asked about her ex-lovers.”

Spencer was immediately snapped out of his daze—meaning focus.

“I didn’t!” he protested, which, technically, was true. She had been the one to bring it up; he’d just failed to shut it down. But he didn’t want the responsibility for it sticking to him. Garcia had already gotten back to the keyboard when he went on. “I didn’t ask about her ex-lovers, that’s just your projection. Honestly, the last thing I’m interested in is her—”

“Oh, she was engaged once,” she cut in.

Reid froze.

“What happened to her fiancé?” slipped out of him before he could stop it.

Penelope gave him a sideways look, mockingly.

“Right. The last thing you’re interested in.”

“Oh, come on. You were so happy to help me stalk her, so now at least do it right and tell me what happened to her fiancé.”

“Ouch, no need to bite. I’m trying to find out! Believe it or not, she’s my friend too and I’m also curious.” She opened some page in the browser. Suddenly, she paused, one finger hovering over the mouse. She turned slowly to Spencer. “We are disgustingly nosy, aren’t we?”

“We…” Spencer hesitated, feeling like Garcia kind of had a point. But his curiosity won. “Maybe a little. Who isn’t. So what about the fiancé?”

“Look, that’s them at his sister’s wedding.” All of Penelope’s moral hesitation evaporated as she showed him a photo. “I mean, the fiancé. And here they are together.”

They both went silent for a moment, judging. Eventually, Spencer gathered himself enough to form a truly eloquent, thoughtful sentence.

“Compared to her… he kind of looks like…a loser.”

“He lowkey looks like you,” said Penelope at almost the same time, apparently not hearing his previous comment. He gave her a look, which she ignored. His eyes went back to the screen, to the photo of them with their arms around each other, but this time he focused on the man beside her, absolutely disagreeing with his friend’s remark.

That guy looked nothing like him. Sure, he was tall, had brown eyes and a slender frame, but other than that his hair was darker. Two completely different people. As he analyzed their similarities, Garcia kept rambling.

“You know, I’ve been out for drinks with her a few times and judging by the kind of guys who always hit on her, I was convinced her type was more…chunky guys, you know what I mean. Oh Reid, I feel bad that I found this. She never told me she was engaged, probably didn’t want to talk about it. I wonder what happened. Did they break up or… wait, you don’t think he… oh whew, haha, he’s alive and well. Look, he has a labrador now. So they broke up… WAIT!”

Penelope leaned toward the screen, her face suddenly tense. Spencer jumped in his seat.

“What is it?”

“Did you know she has a husband now… wait, is that the same guy…?”

A cold sweat flooded not just the back of Reid’s neck, but also his spine, ribs, and even heels. He became cold sweat. He shook his head quickly, desperately trying to steer Garcia away from that thought.

“You know, you were absolutely right, we shouldn’t be digging through her past like this, I’m really not comfortable with it…”

He trailed off — it was already too late. Penelope turned to him, jaw dropped in shock, eyes full of disbelief, accusation, and a clear demand for explanation.

Flowers and coffee.

Flowers and her favorite coffee.

That should do the trick, right?

Okay, Spencer wasn’t deluding himself—it wouldn’t. He was just hoping, really hoping, that when she inevitably decided to murder him, she’d at least do it in a not-particularly-brutal way. But seriously, if he delivered the news gently…okay, no, she’d still be furious. There was no avoiding it.

Spencer stepped into her lab after putting it off and standing outside the door for so long that the coffee he’d brought her was nearly cold. She was busy working, so she didn’t even notice as he approached, slowed, and finally stopped just behind her. A bit of her blouse was sticking out from under her lab coat—it was almost exactly the same color as the dress she’d been wearing in that photo with her ex-fiancé. Funny, that this was what he thought of right now...

“How much longer are you planning to stand there breathing down my neck?” she hissed, not showing even the slightest sign that she’d noticed him. But she had.

Startled, he stepped back half a pace. He cleared his throat—none of the twenty versions of this conversation he’d rehearsed had started like this. Think, Reid, think...

“I brought you something,” he said, just to break the strange silence that had fallen between them. They weren’t entirely alone in the room, but none of the other chemists paid them the slightest bit of attention.

The woman paused at his words, then slowly turned around, resting both hands on the counter behind her, raising an eyebrow even before she saw what he was holding. Once she did, her brows only went slightly higher.

“What’s the occasion?”

Spencer swallowed—her eye contact made him even more nervous. He couldn’t…he couldn’t just blurt out hey, I brought you flowers so you won’t kill me for the fact that I accidentally spilled to Penelope that we got drunk married in Vegas…

He decided to start vague. Then ease into the specifics.

“What’s the occasion…Well, I realized I never thanked you for last time. When I got beaten up and you…took care of me.”

Technically, he really hadn’t thanked her, so he sounded very sincere. Because he was sincere, with the small problem that this wasn’t the whole story. And because he sounded so sincere, he felt like with every word he said…her expression softened just a little more, showing not the slightest trace of suspicion.

Internally, Spencer was panicking.

He wanted her to be suspicious! He wanted her to be skeptical! He’d rather she were in a bad mood from the start, so the change that was about to happen wouldn’t be so abrupt!

A heavy feeling was crushing his chest.

“So, that’s what it’s for. Thank you.” First, he handed her the coffee, so she could set it down on the counter behind her, and then the bouquet.

Red roses—probably had some symbolic meaning, but he hadn’t cared when buying them. He just wanted them to be her favorite color and ridiculously gorgeous.

She accepted them with an unreadable expression. The bouquet was so large she had to tilt it to one side so it wouldn’t block his face while they talked. Her head tilted slightly as well.

“Thanks accepted,” she replied with a nod.

It wasn’t a dry response. In fact, her tone was unusually soft. But also expectant.

Expecting whatever else he was about to say.

He drew a breath.

"You look…luminous, sophisticated, truly breathtaking today," he added, eyes wide from the stress, not blinking. “Penelope knows we got married.”

Her arms dropped sharply to her sides, bouquet and all, and a petal from one of the roses floated to the floor.

“Oh, I fucking knew it!” she shouted at him, punctuating it with a stomp of her heel. For his own safety, Spencer took another step back. “I knew the moment you started complimenting me. Before that, I was still holding on to the delusion that the flowers were actually out of the goodness of your heart and gratitude…”

“...because they are out of the goodness of my heart and gratitude—”

“Shut up. Shut up, don’t you dare interrupt me or correct me right now.” She pointed a warning finger at him. But after a moment, her hand curled into a fist, and her eyelids clenched as she took a calming breath. Without opening her eyes, she ground out through clenched teeth, “How did it happen that Penelope—whom I obviously love, but who can’t keep anything a secret—found out?”

Spencer raised both hands in a defensive gesture, his brain spinning and steaming, doing everything it could not to reveal the actual circumstances of how it all happened.

“By accident—really, I… let it slip,” he lied, hoping the desperation in his voice would mask the lack of truth, and that she was too angry to act as a lie detector. “Honestly, it was my fault, I’m fully aware, I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry—”

“And you really thought that some stupid flowers would make me not angry?”

“Well, flowers and coffee—”

He had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face with them.

“I thought maybe you’d be less angry!” he explained. “And don’t hit me with them, they didn’t do anything…!”

“That’s exactly why I’m hitting you, dumbass.”

But that was, in fact, the last display of such open aggression toward him. Sure, she was still furious, tense and ticking but Spencer, watching from what he considered a safe distance, felt slightly more secure.

For a moment, silence fell between them.

She leaned her lower back against the counter, arms tightly crossed over her chest.

“You know we have to do something about this, right?”

Spencer nodded, terrified that saying anything might reset their relationship to what it had been two minutes and forty-one seconds ago.

“I already know what,” she declared. “And you, as compensation for what you’ve done, are going to help me. Also, put those flowers in some water.”

Naturally, he did as he was told.

“This is weird.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have spilled, and we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“It’s still weird! I mean, we could’ve just politely asked her not to tell anyone. I’m almost certain she would’ve respected that…”

“Exactly—almost certain. And I want full certainty. So hush, I think she’s coming.”

Penelope stepped into the interrogation room where they’d arranged to meet her, glancing around uncertainly.

“Are we even allowed to be in here?”

Spencer gave her a reassuring—and at the same time apologetic—look, even though he wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to be there either.

His companion didn’t even flinch.

“My dear Penelope, do you know why we wanted to see you here today?”

Garcia sat down on the opposite side of the table—right where they usually placed the people being interrogated. Though initially hesitant and reserved, she suddenly clasped her hands together with an impressively bold expression.

“As a matter of fact, I do know why you wanted to see me here,” she declared, her eyes darting between their faces. “Because even though on a daily basis you claim you don’t even like each other, you literally got married. And that’s not something normal people do. I mean—I love you two, and I’m rooting for you—but those are just the facts.”

Spencer was watching her profile as she listened to those words. He noticed she rolled her eyes at the I love you two, and I’m rooting for you part. But other than that, she didn’t seem particularly moved by what Penelope had said.

Unlike him.

Reid had apparently needed to hear it from a third party to start actually wondering if, yeah, maybe it wasn’t entirely normal.

“I guess we’re not normal,” she said plainly, shrugging nonchalantly. Then suddenly she sighed and looked at the woman in front of her with something almost like tenderness. “Penelope, you know I love you, but I will murder you if you tell anyone. Just to be safe, I’ve prepared this.”

She reached into the front pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a document.

“A nondisclosure agreement. Just a little incentive for you to keep quiet.”

Both Spencer and Penelope stared at her, completely baffled.

His confusion was layered with something else.

“You’re really embarrassed you married me, aren’t you?” slipped out of him.

She turned her head toward him—they locked eyes.

Garcia stood up nervously from her chair.

“Maybe I should give you two a moment—”

She was stopped with a quick hand gesture.

“I’m not embarrassed that I married you,” she said, looking at him sternly. She barely blinked. “I’m embarrassed by the circumstances. And the fact that we still haven’t dealt with it.”

“Well, if I recall correctly, it was a mutual decision.”

“A stupid decision. What were we even thinking?”

Spencer felt a strange, uncomfortable tension inside him, in her, and between them.

Penelope clearly felt it too, because she quickly pulled the document toward herself and signed it with an exaggerated flourish.

“There you go. And now I’m off. Nothing worse than getting stuck in the middle of a marital argument. Kisses!”

And just like that, she disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the interrogation room.

For a moment, the silence was incredibly heavy. Spencer was used to silences like that. He’d conducted dozens, if not hundreds, of interrogations. But this was the first time the silence felt like his problem.

They stood across from each other on either side of the short table, which, given the size of the room, meant they were fairly close. He no longer stole uncertain glances at her profile—he stared openly now, with far too many questions about her sudden shift in how she was approaching the decision they had once made together.

“We should’ve gotten divorced right away,” she said coldly, turning her head but not her body toward him. “Then it wouldn’t have gotten so...too real.”

Too real. Spencer didn’t even get a chance to reflect on those words before she walked out of the room, leaving the two of them, him and the silence, behind.

Too real. He didn’t understand those words, not even when he did think about them. Or rather, he understood their meaning, their connection, what they implied but he didn’t understand how they related to them.

And yet, as the next few minutes passed, he remembered that small stab of excitement when Garcia agreed to look her up for him and the other sharp pang when he stared at the photo of her with her ex fiancé and maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to understand what the whole too real thing had meant.

#criminal minds #diva reader ♱#spence reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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