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pearlescynt · 8 days ago

Text

I'm Not Glass

{ Pairing } - non-idol!Hyunjin x afab!reader

{ Genre } - forced proximity?, smut, pwp, acquaintance to lovers, developing situationship

{ Synopsis } - A vacation with your group of close knit friends? What could be better! Well, you were close with all but one person. He's an acquaintance, even after five years. A lot of things can change on vacation though... All you need is a tiny room, a bean bag, an olive branch.

(Or; the one where Hyunjin is too awkward to make any kind of move, and when you finally realize he may reciprocate your horny, lustful feelings... you make the move for both of you, or at least a comment to get things going...)

{ WC } - 5.2k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, forced proximity, smut, pwp (plot? what plot? Porn without plot!), shy Hyune, making out, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), slight nipple play, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, seriously he's fucking your mouth with his fingers, drool, spit as lube, praise kink, manhandling (as best he can in a tiny room on top of a giant bean bag), Hyune is sensitive, he is also worshipping you, unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), overstimulation, teasing, cream pie, sweating, slight aftercare, overuse of religious puns, a forgotten about game of super smash bros, everyone was basically waiting for you two to fuck but neither of you knew that, smug comments from Seungmin, not so sly comments from Jisung

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - Hello, I come with crumbs after... 9 months of inactivity from me... I sincerely apologize. I've made enough sad, emotional and apologetic posts though, so onto the story!

I almost renamed this fic to (I'll be honest, I'm tempted to rename it after the fact still): 'Bean Bag Shennanigans' or 'Bean Bag Mishaps' OR 'Bean Bag Escapades'. Then when I came up with the puns, it was going to be 'Blessed Bean Bag' or 'The Sanctified Bean Bag'. Can you count how many times I said "bean bag" in this fic? I think I've typed and read it so much, it doesn't feel like an actual word or piece of furniture anymore lmao.

I hope you enjoy 🩷

"Did you wanna play something? We could go check out the game room. Felix said there was a switch down there." You drawl in Hyunjins direction.

You’re laying flat on your back on a couch, staring at the ceiling. It was relaxing at first, but now you're quickly getting bored.

"Sure, it seems like everyone else is already preoccupied." He shrugs, and pops a halved strawberry in his mouth from the bowl he’d been eating. He gets up from the table where he was sketching, abandoning his work temporarily.

You’re on holiday with your friends for the week, and currently inside the ‘bnb’ you've rented together. The place was huge, with almost too many amenities.

There’s an indoor pool, a hot tub, karaoke, and a pool table. There’s lots of activities scheduled, places to visit, and sightseeing for everyone to do. But it was still nice to be able to have things to wind down with when you were inside. So everyone had dispersed not long after arriving, choosing to explore the surroundings and settle in.

Out of all your friends in this group, Hyunjin is the one you have the most... distance with. It has to be some sort of weird cosmic joke that you’ve been left alone with him right now. In the 5 years your little friend group existed, someone always usually stuck around to act as some sort of buffer between you two. Intentionally or unintentionally, you didn’t know. It’s not that you two hate each other, you just have never clicked with each other, not like you did with the others. You simply existed within the friend group together.

It seems now is an opportunity to get to know each other more in depth.

You both go down stairs, walking across the finished basement, passing Chan and Changbin. They’re at the pool table, both too consumed by the game to truly acknowledge you two. You keep walking through the room, ignoring the thuds above you. It’s the stomping footsteps and tumbling of your friends, play fighting and shouting. Hearing them brings a smile to your face.

Yes, you were all still stuck in childish ways in your mid to late twenties, but adulting is hard. Everyone deserves some fun, and a break once in a while.

They would even pull you into their shenanigans, often pretending to wrestle with you. Tumbling around on the ground, until one of them conceded from you tickling them nonstop.

Finishing your trek across the bottom floor of the rented house, you both stood in front of a door with a multicolored LED sign on it. It reads 'arcade'. You're unsure of what to expect, but Hyunjin opens the door, and you’re both met with... a tiny room?

If it weren't for the mounted tv, the shelf next to it that holds a switch, controllers, a box of tissues, and a few games. You'd think it was a large closet... Actually, taking another look around, that's probably exactly what it is... with a giant bean bag taking up the whole floor.

Seriously, you've never seen a bean bag that big. On top of it are a few throw pillows and a blanket.

"Well. This is certainly cozy." He says.

And you don’t know his tone well enough to know if he’s being sarcastic or snarky. So you huff out a laugh in response.

Grabbing the controllers, you sit on one side of the bean bag, leaving enough room for him to sit next to you. When he sits though, you both immediately slide into the middle of it, pressed up against each other. The two of you start chuckling awkwardly, and try to maneuver yourselves on to your own respective sides, but nothing works. You both just end up falling back into the middle every time.

Eventually you give up, no longer wanting to struggle and adjust, and instead just relax.

"I mean I can play like this." You shrug.

It truly didn't bother you.

"Mmkay." He hums, sinking into the bean bag further with his side flush to yours.

You scroll through the games on the switch, deciding on Super Smash Bros, but it needs to be updated. So you click on 'update', and sit up to dock it. Now you just need to wait for it to be finished.

You lay on your back again, submerging further into the bean bag, and Hyunjin, and pull your phone out.

Nothing else is planned for today, except cooking dinner when it’s time. Like you said, everyone wanted the chance to settle in before the real vacation started. So you’re in no rush to do anything, or go anywhere, but still. You’re getting more and more bored by the second, and Hyunjin is never much of a talker around you.

After scrolling in silence, you glance up at the screen. The game was only 24% done downloading, and you sighed.

“NO FAIR!” You hear Changbin yelling, with loud footsteps up the stairs.

You also hear Chans giggles as he follows after him with much softer steps.

Well. Now you’re really alone down here with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you look and see Hyunjin scrolling on his own phone. Surprisingly it's a comfortable silence, and you feel the awkward fog disperse while being alone in this tiny space. In your perspective anyways.

That is, until you notice that he starts fidgeting. His hips and shoulders are wiggling, trying to get comfortable. And his fingers have a death grip on his phone, and he’s double tapping a bit too harshly as he likes video after video, seemingly without even watching the whole thing. He goes to adjust himself again, lifting his thigh a bit before bringing it back down, accidentally squeezing the soft skin of your outer thigh under his own.

"Ah, sorry!" He says as a blush forms on his cheeks, and he instinctively goes to rub your pinched skin.

But then he seems to realize what he did by trying to comfort you, and retracts his hand like he’s been burned.

"It's fine." You laugh.

His shy demeanor is astonishing, especially when you’ve seen him act quite the opposite in the past with your other friends.

You're both adjusting again, trying to fit comfortably on the damned bean bag. It results in you both laying down on your sides, your back to his chest. He's unsure what to do with his arms. One is holding his phone above your head and resting on the bean bag, the other is twitching and hovering above you. He seems to want to rest it on your waist, but is unsure.

“You can hold me, you know, I don’t mind. We all cuddle anyways, it’s nothing new. It will probably be more comfortable anyways.” You mutter.

Which is true. You all are a cuddly and touchy friend group. Snuggle piles happen quite frequently, much to certain people’s dismay, especially on movie nights. Yet somehow, every time they happen, you and Hyunjin always end up the farthest apart from each other.

That doesn’t matter now though, you’re trying to reassure him and extend an olive branch. There’s no reason the two of you can’t be just as close as you are to everyone else.

“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks.” He manages to stutter out.

It’s cute, he’s always been a bit timid in his interactions with you. Not that there were ever too many. Regardless, he lets his arm fall over you, let’s his fingers dangle in that area below your navel, but above your pant line. Then he’s back to scrolling on his phone, still above your head.

You scoot back a bit, just trying to get more comfortable, but he stiffens. He’s immediately trying to back up, and ends up dropping his phone with a quiet thud, as it slips to the floor between the bean bag and the wall. His hand comes to your hip, squeezing surprisingly tight so he can hold you in place.

He seemingly wants to avoid his pelvis pressing into you.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry.” He spits out, his grip relaxing on your hip, but not moving so he could keep you still, “I didn’t mean to– well I didn’t want you to– just, I’m sorry.”

It's amusing really, ending up in this situation and position, with someone who is essentially an acquaintance. The two of you never hung out one on one, and only ever saw each other in group settings. Even taking all of that into consideration, this doesn't feel unnatural to you. And you won’t lie, your mind has wandered to impure thoughts about him before.

And there’s no way you’re connecting the puzzle pieces wrong. The way he’s always acted around you, the distance you both kept from each other, it’s got to be mutual.

So you figure, now’s as good a time as any to make a move…

A smirk spreads across your lips and despite his hand desperately trying to hold you still, you move backwards, snuggling closer to him. "Wanna know a secret?"

You can feel him filling out in his pants, he’s half hard already from barely anything. That gives you all the conviction you need to hopefully initiate something fun.

"Ah, sure?" His voice is shaky, adorable.

"I'm not made of glass, you can touch me. I won't break, promise. Plus," You say in a soft and low voice, "Maybe I like it a little rough."

He looks at you for a second, registering your words, and then slowly nods. Hopefully it clicked for him too.

You're sure it did, because his lips bloomed into a smile, and his eyes lidded. Then with all the sudden confidence in the world, he tugs at you rolling you over. Both of you face to face, as you dipped further into each other. He's staring into your eyes, and then he places a hand on your arm, tracing it up to your shoulder.

"So... you're okay with being touched? Anywhere?" His voice is silky smooth now, and alluring. Not to mention his eyes are sharp with a lustful resolve.

Whatever game you started playing, he clearly just took over.

You go to speak, but he brings his hand to caress your jaw, and holds eye contact with you. Gently, he grips your chin, slowly pulling you towards his face, his eyes darting to your lips. You close your eyes in anticipation, and instead feel his breath fanning your lips. His lips are ghosting over yours. He's waiting for you to make a move.

As confident as this man just was, he's still having you make the first move.

You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, so what the hell.

Your lips brush against his, and he's kissing you back fervently. He's tender, but desperate. Deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue between your lips. The taste of him is immediately intoxicating. Mint and... strawberries?

You never thought an odder pairing tasted better.

Where he was once too nervous to even accidentally touch you, he had all the intent to make you feel on fire now.

Your bodies pressed together felt so warm. One hand clutching a fistful of his shirt, and the other wrapped around him. His hand slides down your back, resting on your butt and kneading it. Both of your legs are a tangled mess, intertwined in a way that he was able to perch his thigh between yours. He presses his thigh up, and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a groan.

Something kept changing in him, or maybe it just kept revealing the true version of him, and you weren't prepared when he slipped his other arm underneath you, grabbed you and twisted, hauling your body on top of his. You were straddling him. His hands resting on your thighs, rubbing his thumbs in little circles. Looking down on him, you see the desire in his eyes, and you can only hope he sees the same in yours.

He no longer seems to be shy as he sits up a bit. It seems like he's admiring you, looking your body up and down. You watch as his eyes trail down to your lips, to your neck, to your heaving chest, and then lower... Where your body sat atop his, heat meeting heat. Then he's holding eye contact again as he grabs your hips, rolling you into his hardened length. Your head was clouded with lust and nothing else. He was letting you know exactly what he wanted. So when you started to move your hips of your own volition, his jaw dropped, his eyes fluttered closed, as his breath hitched.

This man is gratifyingly sensitive.

He wasn't gentle this time when he kissed you again. He sat up fully, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck. His tongue explored yours, kissing him felt like experiencing the hunger of a starved man. You were more than happy to feed him. He devoured you, and you savored each flick of his tongue. He cards his hand up into your hair from the base of your neck, and a shiver goes down your spine. His touch feels magnified. When he gripped a fistful of hair tightly, you moaned into his mouth.

He tugged you away from his lips by your hair, craning your head back and exposing your throat to him. And you're stuck, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You want to pout in protest, but when he starts peppering kisses on your neck, you sigh and close your eyes. His lips were so plush and warm as he pressed them against your skin.

He's loosening his grip on your hair, and dragging his hand down your neck. You jolted a bit at him groping your chest. His palm is warm against you, and he gives a little squeeze before massaging your tit. When his teeth nip your collar bone, you're whining and biting your lip. He soothes it with his tongue, and goosebumps bloom across your body. His kisses trail down further until they can't, and he's lifting your hoodie off roughly. Irritated at the boundary between you and him. You feel so overwhelmed with want, that it aches.

You started moving your hips, trying to relieve the throbbing between your thighs. He stops to look at you reverently, his eyes lost in your expression as you attempt to pleasure yourself. You take the opportunity of him being distracted to push him down onto his back, and he grunts as he lands. It gives you a better position to roll your hips against his bulge again, sending tingles throughout your body. His hands find your hips again, and he starts rocking you faster, and rougher against his cock. His own hips meeting yours in sync.

You hear the switch remotes fall off the bean bag, lodging themselves against the door, but you choose to ignore it.

Even through layers of clothing, the sensation feels completely electric, and you sit straight up to catch your breath. But he never stops moving your hips, and you have to bite your lip to silence a moan. He had found a better angle to rub himself on your clit, and you felt the pleasure building slowly. How in the hell does this man get you close without even undressing you?

Sure you've done this before, particularly in the early days of your sexual exploration. Usually in a rushed and fumbled manner, young adults trying to figure out what feels good for them and whatnot. But this man makes dry humping feel like a whole new experience.

He looks completely disheveled underneath you, as he starts to rub and flick your exposed nipples. His eyes boring into yours again is overwhelming, almost unbearable. But you never want him to look away. You were so overheated with anticipation, that his fingers felt so cold against you now. But his lips were still so hot, as you bent down to kiss him again. It was all tongue, and spit, and incredibly messy. That's when he snapped, fully and finally, letting go completely.

He lets out the smallest growl as he flips you yet again, pinning you on your back, both your wrists being held by only one of his hands.

"You said maybe you like playing rough?" He smirks down at you, fingers tracing up your ribs.

"Love it, actually." You answer breathlessly.

He nuzzles into your neck and turns to whisper in your ear, "Good girl."

You're melting at his words, head clouding up with compliance as soon as you hear his praise. Up until now the entire ordeal was nearly silent aside from panting, moaning and groaning. If he keeps talking to you like that, your head is going to be floating away from you.

He's too busy slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts to notice. He sits up on his knees, and has your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one smooth motion. You, however, were kicking them off desperately.

He proceeds to spread your thighs, gazing at your center through those foxy eyes, "Look at this pretty, wet cunt." He mumbles.

You try not to clench your thighs, as he's holding them open still. But he feels your muscles tense. He leans closer, eyes still glued to wear you can feel slick leaking out, and licks his lips. His eyes shoot back up to you, and he tilts his head with a smile.

"Is it for me, angel?"

You whimper at the puff of warm air against you, before letting out a pathetically strangled, "hnng..." in an attempt to say yes.

He's massaging and kneading your thighs up and down. His hand draws closer to where you're craving his touch.

"We’re moving awfully fast, love. I need your consent if you want me to make you feel good. Yes or no?"

"Yes, please, I can't tak-" You're pleading without hesitation.

Before you could even finish your sentence, his tongue is licking a long strip from your opening to your clit. And you let out a pornographic moan.

He peeks up, wetness shining on his chin already, "Now, now. We wouldn't want anyone to find us in this compromising position, would we?"

"No..." You whine, bucking your hips towards his face, uncaring of how desperate you might look.

He just chuckles darkly, "Good, then keep quiet or I'll make you quiet. You'd look so adorable with your panties stuffed in your mouth."

Fuck, you had no idea he was like this. You thought he was the adorable one, all timid and cute and shy. Clearly he’d been hiding this other side of himself from you. All this time, you could have been experiencing this with Hyunjin. You curse yourself for not trying to break whatever resolve he was clearly holding back from you, earlier.

You clamp a hand over your mouth as he goes back to pleasuring you. His tongue is focused on your clit, teasing you with kitten licks. You need more, and try to roll your hips against his mouth. But he grunted softly while holding one of your hips down.

He’s swirling circles over your clit now, and brings two fingers to your entrance. He slips them in harshly, giving you no time to adjust, and you’re thankful for how wet he had gotten you first. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

"You're doing so well," He whispers against your cunt.

It feels so good, even better when he curls them and starts pumping into you quickly. Reaching that gummy spot inside you repeatedly.

It was nearly impossible to stay quiet, but you managed by panting through it.

Saliva starts collecting in your mouth from it, drool slipping out of your mouth.

You’re so close, you can’t help it when a quiet and whiny "Fuck..." Flies out of your mouth. You knew quickly though, that was the wrong move.

His fingers slow down to a lazy rhythm, still working into you but not enough to push you over the edge. He lifts his head to look at you. A smug smile plastered to his face, "Angeeeeel" He sings quietly, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

You hope he never stops calling you angel.

"Didn't I say to be quiet?" He asks as he removes his fingers from your pussy.

"I-I'm sorry, it just... you're so... God, it was so good." You're struggling to find your words, chest heaving, and walls clenching, searching to be filled again.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." He vocalizes and climbs up to face you, "I know a way to keep you quiet."

His fingers are prodding against your lips, and you open them automatically. He's shoving them deep, sliding against your tongue. Your lips close around them, and your tongue starts laving at them. You can taste yourself, and feel his fingers caressing your tongue. It’s like he’s teasing you, showing you what you could be feeling a little lower, if only you could be a little quieter. All it's doing is winding you up even more.

He's watching you in awe, his lips parted, eyes glued to your mouth engulfing his fingers. He pulls them out slightly and pushes them back in repeatedly, and you start drooling even more. Spit is gathering at the corner of your mouth and sliding out, his eyes tracking the glistening path it's leaving.

"When we're not in this cramped closet, I'm going to fuck your face like this."

You gurgled a bit at that, and that was enough to push him even further. You didn’t think he was holding anything more back, but you were wrong.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, and kneels, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. It springs up, bouncing off his stomach. He spreads the mixture of your wetness and saliva from his fingers onto his cock, and lets out a soft moan. Giving himself a few pumps, he lines himself up with your entrance, still on his knees.

He was looking down at you, seemingly admiring how fucked out you looked before his cock even entered you. You’re looking up at him expectantly.

Without warning he thrusts into you, this time pausing for a second. You moan again and that's when he lays on top of you, kissing you. You taste yourself once more, just on his tongue this time. Nearly all your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel your mind slipping into the abyss.

He whispers against your lips, "You need something in your mouth constantly, don't you, love?"

You whimper softly, and that triggers him to start moving, barely any build up to him snapping his hips against yours. His fingers slip back into your mouth, and his head drops to your shoulder, nosing against it and humming. He was whispering sweet praises into the crook of your neck, you were barely registering it.

“You feel so good, love.”

“I’ve imagined a lot, but I never imagined you’d get this wet for me.”

“You sound so pretty trying to hold back for me.”

”Taste divine, too.”

”Such a good angel.”

You weren't going to last long, you felt about three seconds away from cumming.

What you did register very clearly, was him letting out the softest whimper directly in your ear, and nipping your earlobe afterwards. Then you were falling apart. Pleasure crashing over you, and body jerking against his. He was kissing your neck now, but his pace never faltered. Instead of helping you ride it out by slowing down, he kept pushing you higher. Your thighs were shaking, it felt like this orgasm would never end.

It was hard to find the words you wanted to say in your hazy mind, but you found one,"S-sensitive." You whispered.

At that he did slow down a bit, and faced you again. Pressing more soft kisses to your jaw, cheeks, and lips. And you could breathe again.

"But angeeel," He sing-songed again, "Hyunie made you feel so good, don't you want me to cum too?"

You blinked up at him through teary eyes, trying to see him clearly as he was still slowly fucking you. It was still sensitive, and sore in the best way.

"Answer me love."

Your response was on instinct at this point.

"Yes sir."

And his eyes darkened, his grip on your thighs tightened and he pushed your knees further into your chest.

"Good girl." He praised you again, and you whimpered.

He gave no mercy though, skin slapping against skin as his hips jerked roughly into you. This time it was him clamping a hand against your mouth, he knew immediately you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet.

Your walls clenched around him, and you were in shock at the fact it felt like you were about to cum again so quickly. He grunted softly, eyes squeezing shut, and hips faltering.

"My angel feels so. fucking. perfect." He whispered, and punctuated it with one last pump into you.

His jaw dropped, and he was holding back strangled noises as he emptied his load inside you.

You were squirming, you’re so close, just a little more and you could–

But your thoughts were blown away when he brought his fingers to your clit, and started rubbing in quick circles. Your breath stuttered, and he still held his palm over your mouth. You were grateful, because you were cumming again in seconds, a long and muffled whine breaking through.

He didn’t keep going this time, he tapered his motions off, and as soon as he retracted his hand you were gulping for air.

“Fuck.” You panted.

He chuckled lowly, wiping the sweat from his brow with his inner wrist, and pushing his hair back off his face. Those piercing eyes were watching you still, as you heaved for oxygen.

“Holy fuck.” You murmured again.

“I wouldn’t say I’m all that Holy honestly, you’re the angel.” He smirked.

“No, but that was still a spiritual experience.” You laughed breathlessly, trying not to let the pet name fluster you further.

“Mmm… transcendent even.” He hummed.

Then he pulled out of you, and you hissed at the loss and the sting.

“Stay still, I’ll clean you up.”

You listened, letting the bean bag engulf you further as he moved towards the shelves. It’s a good thing this blanket was here. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to clean a bean bag.

He wiped you down as best as he could with the conveniently placed tissues, and then wiped himself before tucking himself back into his pants, and then the used tissues in his pocket.

He slid your bottoms and shorts back on, and tugged your hoodie over your head, before collapsing next to you with a huff. No hesitation in pulling you close to him this time.

You both lay there, eyes closed, listening to nothing but each other's breathing for a few moments. Then he breaks the blissful silence.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to keep going without talking to you about it first.” He muttered, giving you a squeeze.

“Overstimulation is 100% my thing, I’m not mad about it.” You mumble and peek an eye open to look at him.

He’s gorgeous, face still glistening in sweat, down to his neck, and hair stuck to his forehead. You sit up to reach for the tissues, wiping his face and neck down and attempting to pat his hair dry. You push it out of his face again, and look into his eyes.

“If I’m mad about anything, it’s the fact we could’ve been doing that for years.” You smirked.

He’s grinning now, and putting a hand around the back of your neck while you play with his hair.

“Well, we-”

But he’s cut off, because you both hear somebody outside of the door. You both scramble to sit up straight and apart from each other. You stuff the tissues you were holding into your hoodie pocket. Just in time for the door to swing open.

There stands a curious looking Seungmin, eyeing you both and then the surroundings of the tiny room.

"What were YOU guys doing?" He says with a sly smirk.

Jisung’s head pops into view and he's squinting at the two of you suspiciously.

You didn’t even hear anyone come down the stairs, then again that wasn’t a priority when you were too busy getting your guts rearranged sporadically. Just how much did these two hear?

"Oh, we were just playing a video game." You wave your hand at the tv, hoping to come off nonchalant.

"You were playing a game. Really?" Seungmin asks dryly.

“Must have been some game.” You hear Jisung chime in.

"Yeah," Hyunjin chuckles, "why, what's up?”

"Oh nothing, it's just funny how you can play a game with the controllers wedged underneath this bean bag here.” He says pulling them out and tossing them towards you and Hyunjin. “And the game is still on the start screen." Seungmin shrugged.

Hyunjin just smirked, and combed his hair back with his hand. You, however, feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at the screen.

"Anyways." Jisung says, "We've decided we're going to play a drinking game! Come with us!" He says bouncing up and down on his heels and dashing towards the stairs.

Seungmin looks you both up and down, before he hums and walks away. As they ascend the stairs, you hear Jisung not so quietly whispering.

“You think one of them finally made a move?”

Then you hear a smack, and Jisung shouting about violence not being his love language.

You let yourself exhale finally with a shaky breath, and look over to Hyunjin. He’s smiling entirely too brightly for just having almost been caught in a compromising position.

So you smack him halfheartedly in the shoulder.

“Now what was that for?” He says, his smile seemingly not going anywhere.

“Next time, we need a locked door, and preferably not a bean bag.”

“Oh, next time?” He raises an eyebrow, and you want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face.

But if you do that, you know it will escalate. And you two still need a proper conversation about whatever just happened, because you definitely want it to happen again. Plus you don’t think you can handle anymore beanbag shenanigans.

“Shut up.” You say instead, with a smile to match his own, “I need a shower before I play, good luck enduring the masses about what just happened.”

“Masses? More religious puns?” He jokes.

And it feels a little strange now, having a complete 180 and being able to converse lightly and joke with him. When not even two hours ago, you struggled with awkward silences. Then again, he was inside of you not even ten minutes ago.

Yeah, a shower, the drinking game, a proper conversation, and hopefully more fucking.

“What can I say, I feel blessed.”

“I feel sinful, in the best way though.” He continues.

“I will deliver your penance later, first, I shower.” You joke and finally get off the bean bag and out of the tiny room.

He follows behind you, as you both walk towards the stairs. But before you can get up the first step, he bends down to whisper in your ear.

“I'll be waiting for you, I am but a devoted worshipper.”

Holy fuck, this man is going to ruin you.

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @fox-in-y @irrevocable-exposure

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know if you did! And I hope I receive a warm welcome back to the world of writing ♡

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

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p0orbaby · 4 months ago

Note

Like can we pls pls pls pls pls get a smut where Reader sees alexias new photos for nike (though she had shown to reader some they did had the edit the impact you know) reader getting all hot and bothered and jumps on alexia qhen she gets home like do it everything with me

it’s not smut because i’ve got to save some material for bitter sweet

shameless plug

The day is, for the most part, unremarkable.

You wake up at 07:26, which is two minutes before your alarm, which is irritating because you could have had those two minutes. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, assessing your bodily functions—slight stiffness in your neck from the way you slept, residual warmth from the duvet, a faint need to pee but not urgent enough to act on. Alexia is still asleep next to you, her breathing slow and deep. There’s a dent in the pillow from where she’s been lying, a strand of hair curling across her cheek. You could stay here, watch her, but then your alarm does go off, and reality intrudes.

You shower, make coffee, scroll absentmindedly through your phone, thumb moving in automatic, practised motions. You see the photos at exactly 08:02.

And that’s when everything changes.

At first, your brain doesn’t fully register what you’re looking at. There’s a moment of lag, like a buffering screen, a stutter in your synapses. Then the full weight of it hits, and it’s like being smacked in the face with a sledgehammer. A very attractive, well-lit sledgehammer.

It’s Alexia. Obviously, it’s Alexia. But it’s Nike Alexia.

Sweaty. Flexing. Half-naked.

Her abs look like they’ve been sculpted by the gods. Her arms—veins subtly pronounced, muscles taut, defined—are a work of art. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, catching the light in a way that feels almost… obscene. Her gaze is focused, intense, fixed down the lense, like she’s contemplating the meaning of life but also potentially about to fight someone.

You stare. Then you blink. Then you stare again.

Something warm pools low in your stomach, and your grip on your phone tightens. You have seen Alexia naked. Repeatedly. You live together. You have firsthand knowledge—intimate, detailed knowledge—of every inch of her body. And yet, somehow, these photos manage to feel like a personal attack.

Your first thought is: How dare she?

Your second thought is: I need to sit down.

Which you do, heavily, onto one of the kitchen stools. Your coffee is abandoned, cooling rapidly. The world outside continues as normal—birds chirping, distant traffic noise, the faint hum of the fridge—but your internal landscape has been irrevocably altered.

You should say something. React. But words fail you, so instead, you just keep staring, swiping through the photos in what can only be described as a state of near-religious awe. You don’t even realise you’re making a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a groan—until you hear movement behind you.

Then, her voice, still thick with sleep.

“What are you looking at?”

Your soul leaves your body.

You exit out of the app too quickly, fumbling with your phone like a guilty teenager caught watching something they shouldn’t be. Which is ridiculous. You are an adult. You are in a committed relationship with this woman. There is no reason for you to be acting like this.

And yet.

“Nothing,” you say, entirely unconvincing.

Alexia pads barefoot into the kitchen, wearing one of your T-shirts, her hair slightly messy. She yawns, stretching, and your eyes immediately zero in on the movement, the flex of muscle beneath skin. It is unfair that she looks this good first thing in the morning. Unethical, even.

She squints at you, then at your phone. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve seen God.”

You take a slow, steadying breath.

“Not God,” you say. “Just Nike’s new campaign.”

She blinks. Then, the smirk starts, slow and knowing. “Ah.”

“Don’t ah me,” you say, pointing accusingly. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” She moves to the fridge, retrieving the orange juice. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You posed.”

She laughs, pouring herself a glass. “I did.”

“You flexed.”

“I did.”

“You—” You gesture vaguely, helplessly. “You glistened.”

She tilts her head, amused. “That’s usually what happens when you’re sweating.”

“I don’t sweat like that,” you say, almost mournful. “I sweat like a normal person. You sweat like—like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “Like a Nike advert.”

Alexia sips her juice, looking infuriatingly pleased with herself. “That’s convenient.”

You exhale sharply, dropping your head onto the counter. “I need help.”

“Probably.”

Silence stretches. You can feel her eyes on you, can hear the faint clink of her glass as she sets it down. Then, her voice, softer now, but with an unmistakable thread of amusement.

“Do you want me to sign one for you?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

She gestures toward your phone. “A print. I can sign it for you. Make it personal.”

You gape at her, scandalised. “Do I look like the kind of person who would have a signed picture of their girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You have my old Barça jersey framed.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s—” You flounder. “It’s memorabilia. Historic.”

She raises an eyebrow. “So these pictures aren’t historic?”

“Not unless I drop dead from looking at them,” you mutter.

Alexia grins. “Want me to flex for you right now?”

You make a noise that is neither dignified nor human.

Alexia laughs. It’s light, teasing, but there’s something else behind it, something knowing. She closes the small distance between you, leans in, voice low.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” you lie.

Her hand brushes your arm, slow, deliberate. “You are.”

You swallow. Your mouth is dry. Your heart rate is—scientifically speaking—fucked.

This is fine. This is manageable.

Then, she actually flexes.

And you black out.

Metaphorically.

Mostly.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

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thedbahub · 1 year ago

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Optimizing SQL Server Memory Allocation: Understanding and Managing High Memory Usage

Mastering SQL Server Memory Usage: Key Strategies Managing memory on a SQL Server, especially with substantial resources like 1TB of RAM, is crucial for system performance. When SQL Server starts, it may rapidly consume up to its max memory setting, in this case, 900GB. This article explains why and offers solutions. Why SQL Server Grabs Much Memory SQL Server’s design aims to optimize…

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#adjusting SQL Server memory settings #monitoring SQL Server memory usage #SQL Server buffer pool management #SQL Server memory management #SQL Server performance optimization

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neopuppy · 2 years ago

Text

Cookie Jar (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader x Jaemin

genre. stuck in a dryer AU(because why not), meany step-brothers Jaemin/Jeno, pwop(and yet a plot twist), crack if you squint, M/F

warnings. dubcon(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), stepcest, profanity, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 7000

now playing. Cookie Jar//Doja Cat

smut warnings. baby oil, pet names, threesome, unprotected vaginal sex, double penetration(one hole), degradation/praise

“God damn, your step-brothers are so hot.” Your friend says, sucking a hissed breath between her teeth. “I’d do anything to get stuck between those two.”

“You’re sick,” you mutter, slapping her oiled up shoulder, warmed and glistening under the last days of summer sun. “They’re my brothers.”

“Step-brothers.” She shrugs, continuing to eye the two dunking each other underwater with headlocks. “Come on, that’s like… universally a big turn on.”

“Yeah, well not to me.” You say, rolling your eyes before returning to watch the commotion in the pool travel closer, splashing too close to where you lay. “You wouldn’t think they’re so hot if you had to live with them like I do.”

“Believe me, I definitely would.” She sighs, dragging one of the legs of her sunglasses between the seam of her lips. “Don’t know how you resist, I swear they get bigger and buffer every time they visit.”

Now that is true, you silently agree, shielding your eyes from the sun to take in a better look.

“Jaemin’s so broad,” she continues, nibbling at her glasses. “And Jeno’s so lean.. nothing but muscle on him. I bet they get real rough.”

“You need to get laid.” You mumble, focused on the way Jeno’s veins ripple with each squeeze around Jaemin’s neck. The two red in the face from rough-housing for the last hour. “And not by one of my brothers.”

She whines, pouting and sticking out her tongue. “You’re no fun, if you’re not gonna allow me to do it… one of us should.”

Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively, leaning back and fanning herself as they begin to exit the pool. Jeno smiles, eyes more squinted with the sun beating down on his face and tight sculpted chest. “Hey, we’re going to head inside. You want anything?”

The dreamy sigh your friend let’s out doesn’t go unnoticed, whether it be from Jeno’s charm or Jaemin’s perfected way of continuing to not acknowledge your existence; too busy patting his flat smooth stomach dry. It’s all a show of course, he knows he looks too damn good.

“I’m okay, thanks Jeno.”

He nods, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder to continue their playful match as they pass through the sliding doors back into your house.

“He’s so cute,” your friend continues to fawn over the two, squealing that you must have been a saint in a past life to have ended up in such a lucky situation.

“It’s not luck.” You disagree, shushing her. “Anyway enough of this, I have a date to get ready for tonight, the last thing on my mind is Jeno or Jaemin.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping as she lays back. “Meanwhile, I’ll be home dreaming about your step-brothers railing me into the next universe.”

Yeah, in your dreams they’ve had their way with you once or twice.. maybe more than a couple handful of times. It doesn’t help that neither of them has ever attempted to be discreet about their sexual conquests when they’re home. It’s the main reason you can’t even stare at a phallic shaped object for too long without venturing into lewd thoughts of your step-brothers acting out their usual horny himbo behavior with you.

The headache you currently have for example is all Jaemin’s fault, keeping you up into the late AM hours with two sluts screaming from his bedroom akin to something straight out of a horror film. That’s how you found your way to the kitchen to distract your mind from the deeper throaty moans between their banshee-like cries. Maybe water would quench the thirst closing up your throat, but how to stop the aching heat between your thighs..

“What’re you doing up?” His groggy voice emerged, feet patting their way across kitchen tile toward the open fridge you’ve been standing in front of for a minute now contemplating if you should make a sandwich or not.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you sneer, side-eyeing him with a mean look. Your step-brother's afterglow has his eyes dropping at the corners, smiling lazily as he reaches past you for two water bottles.

“Try counting sheep?” He doesn’t even acknowledge you with a glance, moving to sit at the kitchen island and chug down one of the waters. Not even bothering to pull on a shirt before coming down, because why would you question the bright red and pink scratches lining his upper back. It’s dim enough to make it weird if you mention it, too observant on your part.

“I don’t think that will help.” You say, rolling your eyes and shifting down to the cabinet filled with snacks. “Too much noise, not even sheep can drown that out.”

“Hmm,” Jaemin hums, fixing his messy hair still sweaty at the roots. “That’s weird, I never hear anything.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

The sound of a chair scrapes across the tile, feet patting toward the same way he came in from but coming to a stop too close, right behind you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He whispers, hovering near the back of your ear. “Am I doing something to keep you up at night?”

Jaemin knows you hear everything with your bedroom being right in-between his and Jeno’s. Only a wall apart from the debauchery taking place mere feet away from you. “You’ve never complained before..” he reaches for your hair, tossling it behind you and gathering most down the center of your back.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re eavesdropping?” You can pick up a smirk in his tone, shivering down your spine as his palm weighs down on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me my sweet innocent little sister is a pervert? What would your father think.”

He presses closer, reaching out in front of you to grab a protein bar, groin rocking against your backside as he leans up to reach for it above both of your heads. “It’s—it’s not that.” You bite down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut to push away the thought of just how thick he feels pressed against your ass. The shape of his length prominent and hot, half-hard where he digs into you.

“Then what is it?” Jaemin grunts, pushing down on your shoulder heavier for leverage to reach higher, lightly grazing the bar with the tips of his fingers. “What’s keeping you up?”

“Neighbors.. neighbors dog.” You lie, shaking away the memories of high-pitched moans and screams buried into pillows. “Barks a lot, near my window.”

Jaemin tsks, successfully pulling down the snack he’s been reaching for but not without aligning the dip between your ass with his growing size. “What a pesky dog.” He leans forward, lips brushing your ear. “Maybe you need some new headphones, I’ll buy you some this weekend. Can’t have my baby sis losing out on precious sleep.”

With one last dig of his hips against yours, he grins, patting the top of your head. “Get some sleep baby.”

You had to grip onto the end of the cabinet to keep your knees from failing you, dropping your head down to suppress a whimper. Jaemin’s so mean, so fucking mean for what? Maybe you are a pervert though, secretly lusting after not just one—but both of your step-siblings. God your parents would ship you off to boarding school if they knew you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep after that.

No, not with your ear pressed up against the wall trying to mute every sound that couldn’t have come from one of the main characters of your daily fantasies. Between having both Jaemin and Jeno back home for summer, you haven’t seen a day of peace.

Your friend was right, maybe she needs to get laid, but more than anything you need to be fucked. Fucked hard enough for your soul to leave your body and make a trip to heaven and back.

That explains the deep set bags under your eyes today, hidden under the sunglasses that also do a great job of masking your lack of ability to take in each wet rippling muscle lining Jeno’s stomach, or Jaemin’s thick biceps flexing and gripping around his neck.

A defeated sigh solidifies your decision to get in a quick nap before it’s time to get ready for your date tonight. You won’t be of much use for another man if you’re still stuck in a horny whirlwind fantasy anyway.

What was that Jaemin said to you last night? Count sheep?

One. Two. Three..

“Where are you going?”

Jeno’s sitting on top of the dryer mindlessly scrolling through his phone, double-taking at the sound of you entering the laundry room; his eyes nearly falling out of their sockets at the length of your skirt.

“Out.” You say, squatting a bit to sort through your clean basket of clothes. “Have you seen my favorite bra?”

Jeno jumps off the machine, head ducking lower, catching a glimpse of sheer lace baby pink between your thighs. “What?”

“My bra,” you stand, cupping around your chest. “It’s light pink, floral trimming, the cups are see-through.”

He gapes, mouth going dry taking in the rest of your appearance. “Where are you going?”

“Hello, earth to Jeno!” Waving around, you reach out to flick his forehead, wrist caught mid-air before you reach. “I asked you a question!”

He scoffs, tugging you closer. “Why would I have your bra?! Are you not wearing it?” The realization has Jeno pulling you arm up to better stare at your chest, a faint shadow of nipple peeks through the cotton material hugging your breasts.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” He’s flabbergasted, scanning up and down your figure and shaking his head in disapproval. “You can’t go out like this.”

Pulling free from his hold you roll your eyes, returning to the basket of fresh laundry in search of your undergarments. “You don’t like it?”

Jeno pauses, mouth opening and shutting again, lips pouting out. He definitely likes it, but you shouldn’t be out in public revealing this much of your body to anyone.. it’s different at home; no one other than him and Jaemin to see you prance around in oversized t-shirts barely hitting beneath your ass. Not that they’ve ever wondered what would happen if you bent down to pick something up in front of them, not that they’ve ever caught themselves turning their heads toward the stairs in unison when you come skipping down, bouncing away.

“You look..” Jeno hums, taking too long to admire the smooth backs of your thighs leading up to the plump roundness your skirts doing a poor job of hiding. “..it’s just.. would your dad let you wear that out??”

Snorting, you stand up to glare at him with your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side. “He’s not here to stop me, is he?”

“No but he asked us to watch over you, I don’t think your dad would like it if he knew I let you leave the house looking like..”

“Like what?” You snap back, stepping forward to get in his face.

“Like..”

“Go on.”

“Like a common street whore.” Jeno straightens out, clearing his throat, chin tilted in to appear serious. “Walking around like you’re asking for it.”

Smiling, you poke at his chest, your step-brother’s resolve crumbling as you softly laugh. “Maybe I am.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jeno groans, shaking his head again. “I can’t let you go out like that, I won’t allow it.”

“Oh you won’t allow it? Do you think you’re my daddy?” You ask, taunting him further with another prod at his chest; mascara heavily coated eyelashes batting mischievously.

Jeno swallows, biting at the sides of his tongue, annoyed and aroused by everything. The way you’re dressed, the way you keep touching him, the silky tone you say that word in.

“Where exactly do you need to go dressed like that?” He repeats, the sound of the dryer cycle coming to an end clearing his foggy mind for a moment.

Sighing, you roll your eyes, adjusting the loose bolero cashmere slipping from your shoulders. “The new neighbor invited me over for dinner and a movie, we’re not going out. He’s gonna cook me a nice American meal because I mentioned how much I miss it back home when we met.”

Jeno’s eyes dart back and forth in thought, a light bulb coming to life behind them. “THE AMERICAN GUY? THAT GROWN ASS MAN?!”

“He’s 28!”

“Exactly!” His demeanor changes drastically, arms flailing angrily. “Oh you are not going out to see him dressed like that! In fact! You aren’t going anywhere near that creep!”

“He’s not a creep! God Jeno.” Shoving past him you continue muttering about how he needs to calm down, you don’t need to take orders from him or anyone. “I’m an adult.”

“He’s way too old for you.” Jeno paces behind you, too frustrated to notice you’ve begun to pull out his dry laundry, sorting through it in search of your bra. “I’m gonna have to call your dad.”

“Jeno! Do not!” You snap again, letting out an annoyed huff. “I never snitch on you and Jaemin all the nights you sneak out and bring back girls to fuck!”

Jeno gapes again, moving to stand by your side and snatch his boxers before you grab them. “We don’t do that!”

“Oh you don’t? I must have imagined those girly moans coming from your bedrooms screaming oh yes! Daddy please! Rip my ass apart! Your cocks so fucking big!” You slap down on the dryer moaning out, arching forward pressing your breast against the machine, eyes rolling up sarcastically. “Ugh yes daddy! Cum on my ass!”

Jeno gulps, eyebrows twisting together as his cock jumps inside the confines of his jeans, gnawing at his bottom lip to contain an anguished groan. “That’s..”

“Piece of shit dryer,” you curse, bending down to reach further inside, the strap of your bra meeting your fingers. “I swear if this thing ate my bra!”

Jeno runs his hands through his hair, tugging at chunks trying to regain his composure. The position you’ve dropped to on your knees, ass shimmying in the air further pushing him to his limit not helping one bit.

There’s no way he can let you leave this house dressed like this, no way he can let that pervert down the street take advantage of his little innocent step-sister, no way he can let anyone ruin you other than him.

His hand trembles inches away from your backside, soft supple skin fully exposed just aching to be slapped, marked up and bruised by his hands.

“Jeno! Help me!” You whine, shaking and kicking out your feet annoyed. “I think I’m stuck!”

Oh fuck.

“Wh-what..” Jeno’s eyes travel around quickly, ending back on your ass wiggling around in a weak attempt to free yourself from the machine you’ve gotten stuck inside of. “W-what… quit fucking around.”

“I’m not! I’m stuck, Jeno! You have to get me out!” Your sad excuse of a skirt flares up as you start to kick, ankles knocking together the more you whine and yell at him. “I can’t believe this!”

Me either, Jeno thinks, swallowing a thick wad of saliva to coat his throat. “This has to be a joke, you’re…you’re trying to..” he pauses, mewling over what exactly it is you’re doing to him. On your knees, ass rippling under your cute little panties, back arched low in this much too perfect position.

“I’m not joking! Jeno I’m really stuck! I think my sweater got caught in the machine!” Your whiney high-pitched tone doesn’t help Jeno’s growing problem twitching against his inner thigh.

“What am I supposed to do?! Break the fucking dryer?!” Jeno splutters, forcing himself to look away and draw in shallow breaths.

SHE’S YOUR SISTER.

The chant shouting in his head gets interrupted by the devil on his shoulder, speaking in an oddly similar tone he’s more than familiar with. ‘She’s just our step-sister Jeno, it’s not a crime.’

That’s what Jaemin’s always said whenever they’ve drank a little too much and toyed with the idea of hooking up with you. ‘Believe me, I’m gonna fuck her at some point, you know I can’t keep it in my pants this long.’

Jaemin had a point, but even then Jeno can’t deny the guilt he feels as his gaze retreats back to your ample backside, arched out pathetically, fully pushing your plump folds out against the thin layer of underwear leaving nothing to his imagination.

“Do something!” You shout, near tears from the dryer's heat sweating your makeup off. All this effort to look pretty for Johnny only for it to be completely wasted over this stupid damn bra. This is all Jeno’s fault! He never even clears out the lint before throwing his clothes in!

“Okay okay!” The existential crisis your step-brother’s going through fails to transcend through his response, even if he’s fully messed up his hair style by ripping at tufts while pacing behind you. “What if.. I can try to pull you out?”

“Hurry! It’s so hot in here! I’m melting!”

Could you be more dramatic? He wants to scoff, rolling his eyes as he drops down to his knees and his hands hover over your hips. “I’m going to try and reach in, alright?”

“God damnit Jeno! Fucking hurry up!” You screech, feet stomping against the ground between his thighs.

“Oh shit,” Jeno presses in closer to avoid your heels colliding with his sack, eyes going wide upon contact with your core, all warm and damp where his lower stomach meets the forbidden area between your thighs. “Fuck.”

He has to catch his breath again, sliding his hands through the space left at your sides. He definitely could avoid touching you given the amount of space, but that doesn’t stop him from smoothing up your hips and waist, squeezing his way up as he bends closer with his chin resting atop the dryer. The new angle aligns his hips with yours, his now fully hard length digging into your thigh the more he leans his body in to lock under your armpits and pull your shoulders back. “Come on, work with me here.”

“That hurts! It’s my sweater Jeno! My sleeves wrapped up in the machine, I can’t get it out!” He can feel you tug, shifting back further into his groin the more you attempt to move and release your arm from the uncomfortable position you’re trapped in.

“Sorry sorry..” he gasps, unable to stop himself from rocking forward against your warmth. “Should I try to take your top off?” Shaking his head in disbelief, he circles against your ass, biting down on his teeth to suppress a groan when his length slots between your folds. Even with the material of your clothes keeping you apart, the idea alone of having you so vulnerable to his ministrations is more than enough. High alone off how unsuspecting his every calculated move is, because why would your big brother take advantage of you like this? Jeno would never, he loves you too much.

“Ughh…” you whine, head drooping with sweat pouring down your face faster than a river flow. “This is so stupid!” You cry, shimmying back again, too exhausted to pick up on the hard shaped rod pressed flush to your core.

“I’m so tired..” blinking slowly, you wonder how stupid it may be to call up 911 for this.

‘Hey my step-sister got stuck in a dryer trying to find a bra. Can you make it fast? She’s supposed to have a hot date tonight with this sexy American beef cake that lives down the street.’

Because that’s something that could only ever happen to you. Public humiliation that would only draw attention to your house with a blaring fire truck uselessly parked outside only to decide that the jaws of life would be necessary to free you from this comedic porn scenario mess of a situation you’ve landed yourself in.

“I’m doing my best baby.” Jeno soothes, maneuvering his hands to your back in search of a bra clasp to release. Oh right.. hard nipples, no bra. The entire reason you’re stuck to begin with. “I’m going to take your top off, okay?”

No bra, that should make this easier, he gulps, untying the halter strings connected at the back of your neck. “Maybe if we can get you out of this..” he tries to imagine your tortured cute face, tear stricken the longer you suffer in there. The image of your distress only makes his cock jump, rutting harder against your ass.

“Fuck, I can’t do this.” He whispers quietly to himself, too caught up in his own form of torture. What are the chances of pulling you out, tits bouncing freely as you fall back and land ass first onto the seat of his lap. Jeno nods to himself, pulling your top lower until he can sense the release of your breasts, likely resting against the still warm metal insides of the dryer.

“Try to pull your arms free now baby.”

Maybe it’s due to your exhaustion, lazily pushing back only to be met with your step-brother’s hips and a low groan. “I can’t Jeno, I can’t anymore.” You sob, pathetically dropping flat with your arm strung up still locked in place.

“I’m going to have to cut your sweater.” He thinks fast, glancing around quickly before noticing you’re no longer alone.

“Jaemin?!”

“Jaemin!” You shout, shocked by the mention of your other brother. “Huh?!”

An amused laugh traces up your back, followed by a round of applause and feet shuffling forward. “No no, keep it going Jeno.”

He leans against the washer, smirking to one side. “All this fun without me? You dirty fucking dog.”

“Jaem, it’s not what it looks like! She’s st—“

“No no, seriously, by all means—go on, don’t let me interrupt. I’m dying to know what you’ll do next.” He says sarcastically. “You’re really the luckiest motherfucker I know, Jeno. Found her like this before I had the chance.”

“Dude, it’s not like that!” He groans, gripping around your waist roughly out of frustration.

“Ow!” You squeak, pushing back harder against his crotch. “Jaemin, do something!”

“Do something?” He muses, squatting down near his brother to get a good look at your connected lower halves, skirt pushed high above your hips and underwear scrunched up between your buttcheeks. “I can do a lot, if you really want me to, princess.”

“Jaemin, no..” Jeno begs quietly, knowing his sibling better than himself. “You can’t.”

“Oh, but you can, right?” He snickers, snapping his fingers. “All this struggling and neither of you idiots has considered oil yet?” He laughs, patting Jeno’s back roughly before exiting.

“Where’d he go?!” You kick at the ground again, maybe Jaemin could get you out of here, he’s buffer than Jeno.. always flexing his muscles in front of you talking about ‘gains’.

“Uh..” Jaemin walks back in before he’s able to coin up a lie, a clear bottle of baby oil in hand. “Man, why do you even have that??”

“You know why.” He grins cockily, returning to match Jeno’s position on his knees. “We’ll just lube her up real good and she’ll slip right out.”

“What is this?” Jeno asks, genuinely bewildered. “Am I dreaming?” He raises an eyebrow, reaching to pinch your buttcheek.

“Ow! What the fuck!”

Oh right, he’s supposed to pinch himself. Not you.

“Don’t think you are but either way, hope we don’t wake up.” Jaemin chuckles, nudging his elbow into his brother’s side. “I think you’ve had enough failed attempts at this, it’s my turn.”

Reluctantly Jeno’s shoulders drop and he shifts off to your side, hard-on pressed to your hip as if that will help hide how insanely turned on he is right now.

Jaemin makes a face, whistling quietly as he leans in to whisper for you not to hear. “I’d be 8 deep in her right now, you’re an idiot.”

“Whatever man, I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“Step.” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t count, besides, look at us and look at her—we’re like some PornHub dream come true. Think of the money we could make if we filmed this..”

“Hello?!” You cry out, unable to hear anything aside from muffled voices. “Are you going to help me or what?!?”

“Of course princess.” Jaemin says reassuringly, handing Jeno the bottle of baby oil to free his hands to grab onto your hips. “You’re stuck real good in there unfortunately, but your big brother has a great plan to get you out.”

Jeno shakes his head, mouthing ‘you sick fuck’ to the other, receiving only a much too cheerful smile in return.

“Okay, thank you..” you don’t sound too convinced, but at this point with your makeup all sweated off and hair ruined, you don’t have much of a choice other than to just go with it.

“I’m going to try oiling you up, but I don’t want to ruin your pretty outfit baby.” He winks at Jeno, mouthing ‘watch this’. “Is that okay with you?” He tugs on your underwear to ask without flat out asking.

“Take off my clothes?” With your top already rolled down to your waist and this bent over position you’ve been stuck in for too long now, you can’t fathom how much more humiliating this situation can get at this point.

“Yeah, sort of like when you use butter to help remove jewelry that’s too tight.” Jaemin shrugs, convinced he made that up. “It’s worth a shot to try, or would you rather I call the fire department to have you craned out of here. Might be hard to explain the hole in our roof to mom and dad later, and think of how much that repair will cost them.”

“Fine, fine! Get me out of here, please Jaem.” You whine again, lazily collapsing onto your stomach and chest.

“You don’t have to beg baby.” Jaemin can’t stop the smile on his lips from growing, slowly rolling your panties down to unveil your bald smooth cunt. He sucks in a hissed breath between his teeth. “Fuck, even prettier than I imagined.”

Jeno leans in closer, swallowing down a sob. “Yeah, real nice..” his hand lifts, hovering close by. “You’re right, fuck, I’m an idiot.” His hips jam closer, digging his painfully hard length into the side of your thigh.

“We should oil your entire body.” Jaemin pipes up. “You know, to make sure you slip free easily. I wouldn't want my baby sis to get hurt.”

That doesn’t make a lick of sense, you think, but who fucking cares anymore. Jaemin skims his palms beneath your skirt, tugging it over your hips ever so gently. Clueless to the visual of your ass bouncing against the material with each light tug, he curses under his breath.

“You see that Jeno?” He nods to your exposed rim, tight as fuck, as if nothing’s ever penetrated back there. “That’s a damn shame.. Our poor baby, so neglected..”

You hate to admit but everything your step-brother has said in his usual monotone calm voice has your thighs rubbing together anxiously. Because when you weighed the pros and cons of sacrificing your pride and ego, you failed to consider the most humiliating one: leaking down your thighs for your step-brothers to watch from a front row seat.

“Fuck.”

“What was that my angel?” Jaemin chimes, reaching for your top to drag down over your wide hips, the material showing resistance as seams pop open passing over the round pert of your ass. “You’re doing so good for me.” He says, acknowledging Jeno with his arm slung atop the dryer to stop himself from hunching forward and burying his face between your butt. “Well, for us.”

This has to be some type of punishment, you can’t even bite down on your fist to drown out the moan you let out next. Jaemin uses your weakened state to fully control the dip in your back, hoisting your hips higher to make your cheeks spread naturally and leave you completely exposed.

“God damn.” He grits pushing down on your waist and pressing his crotch to the back of your thigh. “Hurry up Jeno, soak her up.”

“You have to say it like that?” Jeno sounds near the verge of tears trying to uncap the baby oil in his tight grip. “Isn’t this—sort of..”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna shove my dick inside of her in the next five seconds!” Jaemin hisses at his brother, reaching for the string keeping his sweats up. “Five! Four!—“

“Okay okay!” Jeno practically drops the bottle out of fear, squeezing its contents out rapidly with his jaw hung at the sight of your ass gleaming back at him absolutely drenched. “Can’t do this, Jaem! I need—need to fuck her!”

“What?? What’s going on!?” You shriek, jumping back as the oil dribbles up your back, only magnifying how obscene your ass looks shining with a thick coat of oil.

“This is insane.” Jaemin mumbles, shoving his sweats and boxers down in one go. He lowers down to speak into the dryer, snaking in to smear the oil higher up your back. “Hey, I don’t want to get my clothes dirty either, right Jeno? I’m sure you understand, baby.”

“What?” You sigh, eyes flying wide open when you feel it, hot and thick against your soaked ass. “Is that?—“ to make matters worse, you feel it again against your other thigh, bigger even, pulsating where he’s pressed, nearly burning your skin from how hot he feels. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin moans, smoothing his oily hands to your chest, squeezing the second he cups your breasts. “Fuckfuckfuck, I think it’s working!” He pulls you back more, the top of your stomach sliding against the dryer making the nastiest squeegee-like sound.

“You’re doing so so good for us.” Jeno finally manages to speak up, pouring out the entire contents of the now empty bottle in his hold, tossing it aside to massage in the mess pooling between the crevice of your ass. “Shit. What the fuck. You’re so fucking pretty down here. Of course you are, so damn pretty everywhere aren’t you?”

“Jaem, Jeno—what’s—“ you huff out, short of breath the more you get pulled out but your step-brothers thick biceps caging your hips.

Jaemin hushes you dismissively, gaining better leverage around your middle to pull you out, your sweater barely clinging to your arm anymore. “Come on Jeno, grab her legs for me.” He grunts, exuding strength he’s only had to use in the bedroom before. Lucky for you his favored positions have always left him in complete control, tossing whoever he’s fucking around to his will.

Jeno’s fast to listen to orders, especially if it means he’ll be in the perfect position to actually have you landing in his lap as if he manifested it to happen.

“Ahhh!”

Once your elbow unhooks from your sweater, you shoot out of the dryer like the log ride and Disney world, hurdled back by the extra force you and Jaemin had been using to free your upper half. The relief of finally being free washes over you, panting for breath that doesn’t reek of lint and musty heat. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it!”

Too stunned and eager to fix your sweaty locks, you nearly miss the sad pathetic groan Jeno lets out, clutching around your waist to keep you slotted against his rock hard length. “Je—oh fuck.”

Jaemin sits up on his knees, regaining his composure and breath as he wipes off his greasy palms by slapping them together repeatedly. “That was some show, look at what you’ve done. Poor Jeno looks about ready to burst.”

He crawls forward, grabbing onto your knees before you even think to slam your thighs shut, too caught up in the thick size nestled between your ass to even fully understand how naked all of you are. Naked and completely doused from neck to toe in baby oil, it almost seems too ridiculous to be real…

“Now now,” he drawls, relaxing between your thighs only held open by his palms cupped under the pits of your knees. “In a sense, this is like pulling out the Excalibur..”

“Dude, I’m fucking dying here! Be fucking for real!” Jeno sounds more desperate than you’ve ever heard him, whining like a puppy into your shoulder and apologizing with a feather light kiss.

Jaemin laughs, could even qualify as a cackle, smoothing down to your inner thighs. “Don’t you think we’ve earned a prize from our princess?”

The sweet charming smile you’re used to seems more menacing than ever now as he inches lower, heavy palms cupping your inner thighs and pulling apart your cunt with his thumbs to show off how wet you are. “Is all that for us? You nasty dumb little slut. Want your big brother’s to fuck your holes so bad don’t you?” Jaemin finishes with a hot wad of spit landing at your entrance to further drill in your shame, shivering back into Jeno’s hold as he sets a searing kiss on your clit.

“Fuck Jeno, she’s so tight.” Dragging through your folds he stretches his digits out for you to see the thick mix of baby oil and slick arousal forming clear strings between his fingers.

“Wetter than a fucking slut.” Jeno bites your earlobe, trailing one of his palms down the smooth expanse of your stomach to your clit. “Let me fuck her ass first at least.”

“Huh? N-no—not there, I haven’t before.”

Jaemin’s tongue clicks, kissing the backs of his teeth and squinting his eyes as if to call your bluff. He reaches between your split ass, thumb pressing to your rim meeting tight resistance. “Fuck, she’s not lying.”

Jeno can feel a prickle of tears burning at the backs of his eyes, his sack drawn up tight and heavy from being edged this long. “I can’t anymore!” He really can’t, he’s been hard since you mimicked the forgettable skanks that pass in and out of his bedroom. None of them would ever match up to you, only confirmed as his hips lift up and the tip of his cock struggles to penetrate past your wet tight circle of muscle. That doesn’t stop him from using his hold around your waist to his advantage, gliding you down his length with ease the more pilant you turn in his arms.

“Fuckkkkkkkkkkkk.” He thinks he might cum from this alone. Pussy walls too smooth around his size, sucking along each pulsing vein as he inches in until he meets resistance and has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from screaming out.

“Greedy motherfucker.” Jaemin mutters, pushing the backs of your knees up higher until you’re pretzeled between the large sculpted bodies of your step-brothers, the same two whose names you’ve cried into your pillow with your hand down your pajama pants many nights.

Jeno rips a fresh batch of tears out of you, the stretch of his cock bordering painful if not for how obscenely wet you are, but the moans singing from deep within your chest are short lived; cut off by a thick prod at the top of your entrance right above the length already filling you up.

“I’ll fuck your ass next time.” Jaemin groans, shoving his cock in against the push he’s met with between your tight hole and his brother’s unrelenting thrusts. “That’s it, taking both of our dicks baby? So easily too? Who knew my baby sister was such a fucking slut.”

“N-no, not—a slut..” you wail, unable to handle how hard and big they both feel thrusting inside of you at different times. The friction cuts off your breath, sucking in your stomach to pull away from the fast unforgiving speed they both fuck into you. “S’too much! Too full!”

“Like that baby? So fucking full with both of us inside of you.” Jeno sounds strangled, pouring sweat the more he exerts himself to fuck into you faster and harder than Jaemin. He should have fucked you first to begin with. “Feel us both sliding into you? Taking two dicks like nothing, you know what that makes you?”

“A dirty fuck hole,” Jaemin says between clenched teeth, reaching for your neck to hold your head up and watch your eyes well up with tears, nodding and agreeing with everything they say just like the good little fuck toy you are, only for them.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” Jaemin manages to rasp out, throat locking up with each bury of his size engulfed in your tight heat. He grips your cheeks roughly with his palm cupping your chin. “What. A. Fucking. Whore..” He says it in a nasty tone on purpose to make your stomach turn, hitting deep inside with pointed demanding thrusts between each word. The shame of letting both your step-brothers fuck you is already enough to weigh 500 pounds of guilt down on your chest, but letting them both do it at the same time..

Everything crashes hard, unable to fall back or arch forward between their burly builds. Too overwhelmed, overheated and crazed with each sheathing thrust, your neck drops back gasping for air; weakly slapping Jaemin’s shoulders as tremors roll up from your toes to your shoulders and your eyes roll up. The squeeze around their lengths almost has them both slipping out as you cum and pour out more arousal around them, both using the extra glide to fuck you faster through your orgasm.

“I’m cl-close.” Jeno’s eyes practically match yours, wet from the maddening clamp around his throbbing member. “Can’t… fucking..” Pushing you forward against Jaemin’s chest he pulls out, pussy snapping around his cock noisily with gushing wetness following. It only takes one stroke to have him spilling out onto your ass with a chorus of curses and muffled shouts, slapping his length down on the rounded part of your butt to watch his cum dribble down between your ass faster. “Fuck me.”

He’d pass out clean if not for his brother pushing you right back to where you were against his chest, slamming his dick back into you without anything to hold him back anymore.

“Jaemin!” You scream, reaching for his shoulders to slow down the viscous grueling slap of skin colliding with skin, bounced up and down his length as if you weigh nothing to him.

“Fucking take it.” He growls, thrusts turning erratic as each vein lining his neck bursts out, skin pink and hot from driving all of his power into each ram of his hips. Each plunge of his size backed with intent to leave a mark. Stuttering forward, his head falls back releasing a long winded groan, chest rising against your face as his eyes roll up and he hits peak deep within you.

“Y-you—you came inside?” You ask, still coming down from your high, neck rolling against Jeno’s shoulder. “I-inside of me?”

Jaemin grunts, slamming in one final thrust with a pained expression, you just feel too good to stop. “You’re on the pill anyway, don’t be so dramatic.”

Jeno scoffs behind you, shoving between your bodies to push Jaemin’s weight off of you. “You’re such a dick.”

Jaemin smirks proudly, slowly drawing free from your wrecked cunt. “God baby, how am I supposed to stop now?” He lets out a deep breathy sigh, reaching between your tighs to circle your entrance for the rest of his cum to trickle out onto the floor and run down your ass. “Such a perfect pussy.”

“C-can’t— no more Jaem.” You mumble half-asleep, turning your face to burrow in Jeno’s neck. “Tired.”

“You heard her, Jeno.” Jaemin raises his full eyebrows up and down, sneaking his brother a knowing look. “She can’t handle me anymore.”

Jeno nods, dragging his lips down the side of your face to your mouth. “He’s right angel, how are we supposed to stop now?” With that he moves your hips back, lining his hardening length up with your gaped entrance. The space molded from your step-brother's combined cocks allows him to fully enter you with one hard thrust, cursing against the corner of your lips.

“Je-jeno—please..”

“Yeah, it’s all for you baby.” His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you down until you’re crushing his balls.

“Ca-can’t—“ the last thing you hear is Jaemin cooing on and on about how adorable you are, still squirting out a mess of arousal even as your eyes fall shut and Jeno continues to brutally snap his hips up.

“Didn’t she say something about a date tonight?” Jaemin’s voice comes through muffled, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the three of you finished, judging from the burning crave for more between your thighs.

“Yeah, about that..” Jeno whispers, sounding more distant. “Think I heard her telling her friend she’s going out with that guy from Chicago, you know that big motherfucker down the street.”

“What??” Jaemin barks out much too loud, completely erasing the last bits of exhaustion away from your body. “He’s way too old for her!”

“I know. We can’t let her go, right?” Jeno sounds more stressed than his brother, mumbling like he’s chewing on one of his nails. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing she’s out there with him of all people. That guys a dick..”

“He has a huge dick too.” Jaemin retorts, clicking his tongue annoyed. “Why don’t we tell her he called and said he couldn’t make it tonight? Change of plans or something.” He nods to your phone, inching closer to sneak it away, pinching the device between his fingers.

“She’s going to hate us if she finds out.” Jeno snatches your phone from him, typing in the code he’s seen you punch in while peeping over your shoulder. “It’s for her own good.” He finds your chat with Johnny in an instance, scrolling through quickly and sending himself the different scandalous selfies you’ve messaged. “Little slut..”

“Send me those too.” Jaemin pipes in, nudging his brother's side. “We should wake her up, it’s getting chilly out here.”

“Can’t believe she knocked out like that, her friend even left already.”

“Mmmhhhmm.. Jeno..”

They come to a pause, locking your phone after successfully deleting your chat with Johnny and blocking his number. Jaemin mouths ‘wake her up’ to his brother, shoving his shoulder to move closer to you.

“Hey..” Jeno sits at the edge of the pool chair you’re laid out on, reaching to tap your arm. “You should wake up.”

“Few more minutes..” you grumble, slapping his hand away. Jeno coughs, grabbing both your shoulders to shake you awake.

“It’s been long enough, come on, time to wake up!”

“Wh—how long have I been asleep?” The sun’s still setting behind the expanse of Jeno and Jaemin’s broad frames, making your eyes squint shut as you sit up quickly and pat around. “What.. what are we doing out here?!?”

Jeno helps you sit up, patting your back. “Hopefully you don’t get sick from sleeping out here for so long, we thought you’d gone inside.” He leaves out the mention of your date, sneaking a look at his brother.

“Wha—“ a fast glance around clears up your confusion. You had fallen asleep in the backyard. “It was all a dream?!”

“What was?” Jaemin asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow at your frazzled response. “What was all a dream, huh?”

“I—uhm..” your step-brothers eye you quizzically, both intimidating as they stand above you waiting for an answer. “Nightmare! I mean, about the dog next door.” You scramble to get up, stumbling forward as you try to shove your feet into your sandals.

“Where are you running off to?” Jeno says, arm looping around your waist before your knees can meet pavement. “Can’t be that silly date, he called while you were knocked out to cancel anyway.”

Hoisting you up he pushes you toward Jaemin, back crashing against his chest to easily lock you in place with his thick biceps caged around your sides, lips finding your ear to whisper. “Now, tell us more about this dream.”

#jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #neopuppy fics #nct dream imagines #lee jeno fanfic #na jaemin fanfic

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nsharks · 5 months ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-eight —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

France feels just as haunted by ghosts, the kind that cling to silence.

The next morning, you follow the road south near the Belgium border under a punishing sun and suffocating humidity. Sweat pools under your clothes as you leave the coastline behind, passing overgrown rose bushes and grand estates crumbling to rotted beams. Without the raft or truck, supplies rest on everyone's backs, lighter now with all the food you’ve already gone through—a stark reminder that you’ll need more soon.

You were the last to wake, stirred from a deep sleep by the sounds of bags being packed. It shouldn’t be surprising—you’d slept well after two orgasms. It’s a miracle the night’s events didn’t spill into your dreams, but now, in the daylight, keeping them at bay is harder. Thankfully, Kyle and the two kids create a buffer as you all follow Price’s lead. Their presence helps keep your eyes from drifting to him. You force your gaze on the passing signs, making a mental game out of trying to pick up on some French. It's distracting enough. So far you've gathered that sortie means exit and allez means something like go.

The first break comes when your shoulders burn from the weight of the backpack, the straps biting into your skin. You slip it off with a groan, sinking to the ground, and nurse the canteen of water. Just enough to wet your throat and keep the dizziness at bay—rationing is a habit.

Price's plan echoes in your head: Méteren by nightfall. That’s ten hours of walking, minimum. Your toes throb at the thought, each step promising fresh blisters, but you force yourself to focus. The faster you reach Switzerland, the safer you’ll all be. If the place they heard of is actually waiting there.

"Hey. Do you want this?"

Blue lowers beside you, offering a near-empty jar of peanut butter she was snacking on.

"Not much left but it's really good," she shrugs.

"I'll finish it off, thanks."

The salty taste is not exactly refreshing, but you choke it down anyway, the boost of protein more of a necessity than a pleasure. Blue pulls at the grass beside you, her gaze drifting to Ari, who’s sharing food with Kyle. You try not to look, but your eyes flick to Ghost anyway.

The mask is still on, as always. Why is he obsessed with it, even after you just saw him naked? Despite its presence, you can still see the furrow between his brows as he pores over the map with Price. Sweat rings the collar of his black tee, and his biceps flex as he gestures down the road. You’re definitely checking him out when he catches your eye mid-conversation, adjusting his mask, and without missing a beat, you turn your attention back to Blue.

She is staring at you, her brow furrowed.

You instinctively touch your neck, your thoughts racing to the bruise hidden beneath your hair.

“Do you think he likes him?” she asks abruptly.

You blink. “What?”

“Ghost,” she whispers, leaning closer. “Do you think he likes Ari?”

Relief floods you. “Oh. I mean, sure. He's a good kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” she corrects with a huff. “He’s thirteen.”

“That’s still a kid, Blue.”

She rolls her eyes but hesitates before adding quietly, “He kissed me.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down. And don’t tell Ghost.” She pinches your arm, her cheeks reddening.

“I won’t,” you assure her. “But… when? How?”

“The other night, when we kept watch. Just on my cheek, but still.” She pulls her knees to her chest. “He's cute. I think I like him, but… what if he doesn’t actually like me? What if he just sees me as a kid?”

Her uncertainty tugs at something deep in you. “Have you talked to him about it?”

She shakes her head, looking horrified. “No way. What if he doesn't feel the same? It could get weird.”

“Then kill him,” you deadpan. At her glare, your lips twitch. “Fine, I’ll kill him.”

She snorts despite herself. “Be serious.”

“Okay, how about this—just ask him, ‘Why did you kiss my cheek?’ Keep it simple.”

Blue considers this, her expression softening. “I could do that. But it has to be when Ghost isn’t around. Which is almost never.”

You're telling me. You pick at your nails, avoiding her trusting gaze as your chest tightens.

The sound of Price's boots back on the gravel ends the break.

Even after the brief rest, your limbs drag with exhaustion for the next few hours, but the extra calories push you forward. You make it to Méteren before nightfall. As the guys pitch tents, you rip off your socks to survey the damage. Open blisters stare back at you. With only so much gauze in your kit, you've been hesitant, but you cut a conservative strand and wrap up your heels.

Behind a bush, you change from your sweaty clothes and hope there is freshwater somewhere to wash them in the morning. You dab a rag with a bit of water from the canteen and scrub the biggest offenders; armpits, between your legs, the back of your neck. Changing into a clean shirt, the sound of them unpacking the sleeping bags beckons your heavy shoulders and sore legs. You head back to the tents, ready for sleep, when you overhear Ghost volunteer for first watch.

"Twix will help me."

You hope the surprise isn't visible on your face as you nearly drop your backpack, swinging your gaze at him.

"I will?"

"It's been a few days since you've taken watch."

Your lips roll together then flatten, shoving down the blush that crawls your neck at the thought of being alone with him. Kyle looks like he is ready to take your place, but you nod in resignation, clear your throat, and finish tugging on the zipper over your clothes. "Yeah, of course. I'll help."

The others disappear into the tents, and you turn to sit on a fallen log, bow in hand. But before you can settle, you feel his presence—a shift in the air just behind you, then the solid pressure of his hand curling around your forearm. Without a word, he guides you forward, pulling you with an ease that leaves no room for hesitation. Your body moves instinctively as he leads you out of earshot of the tents, behind an abandoned car. It is now you realize he's changed into a black hoodie and shedded the tactical vest. He leans his rifle against the side of the car and looks down at you, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"Did you take away my chance to sleep and pull me over here just to stare at me?" you whisper, arms crossing against the gentle breeze that has cooled with the fallen sun.

He exhales through his nose before responding. "About yesterday."

You blink at him, hoping you don't fail at hiding how even the mere mention sets your nerves alight. "What about it?"

The way his eyes move slowly over your face suggests he is searching for the words. Finally, he says flatly, "It was just fucking. A distraction."

"A distraction," you repeat slowly under your breath. The bluntness hits you harder than expected. You bite the corner of your cheek, a bit too hard, and you narrow your eyes. "You really think I don't already know that?"

His broad shoulders roll back in a shrug and his tone shifts far too casual for your liking. "I just didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

The wrong idea. You rip your gaze away, scraping your fingertips into your arm, before looking back at him with a forced shrug of your own. "I can handle fucking, Simon. Like I said, I'm a big girl."

There is an audible inhale, then a low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he leans in, his darkened eyes locking onto yours. He cages you in with his arms, the familiar heat radiating from his touch and already making your brain fuzzy. His hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you onto your toes as he tears off the mask and lays it on the hood of the car. The glimpse of his strong jaw and the flick of his tongue wetting his lips sends a shiver through you despite the lingering irritation at his words.

"Yes. You are," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, before capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that feels like the deep, soothing release of sinking into warm water after aching for relief.

You could kiss him for hours, you quickly realize, pleasantly fascinated by how hot and demanding his tongue feels against your mouth. He tastes like how he smells. Pine and salt. You submit to the pace of his lips, every graze of his teeth making your heart thicken. You move your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp, pulling him closer.

"There's something I need," he mumbles, voice etched with a tremble of impatience, and his fingers clench your shirt. With his other hand, he blindly reaches for the car door and forces the rusted thing open with a few tugs.

"What do you need?" you breathe out, secretly thrilled that he wants you, again, even when it's been only twenty-four hours since he last had you. The mutual desire erodes the fatigue in your limbs and awakens your arousal.

Without an answer, he spins your bodies, easing into the passenger seat, then pulls you in with him, closing the door with a soft click. The position is awkward at best—your head bumps into the roof, one knee wedged painfully into the center console from the lack of space. The car smells like stale leather and dust, but thankfully not like rot. It's far from enticing, but none of that matters when he forces the seat to recline, creating just enough room for you to lay on top of him.

You can feel him, hot and straining within his jeans, as you kiss him again and begin to move your hips instinctively. It is a thrilling notion, that you have made him hard so quickly, and you wonder if he ever touched himself like you did, stroking his cock with a callused hand that he imagined as you. The image of it, in combination with the friction on your pussy, has you greedily reaching to undo his belt buckle.

He breaks from your lips with a grunt and grabs your wrist. "Not that."

Huh?

You don't have the chance to question him before the notch in his throat bobs, and he begins unzipping your jeans, instead. "My face. Sit on it."

The blush on your cheeks is hidden in the car's small, dark space. His half-lidded gaze lifts to yours, and you nod absently before helping him push your pants and underwear to your ankles, shifting awkwardly to discard them to the floor. His hand immediately moves between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your wetness with a sharp inhale. It should make you embarrassed, but it doesn’t—not with the way he watches you, his other hand peeling off your shirt, the whites of his eyes flashing over your naked body with such unabashed hunger that you realize it must’ve been simmering in him for as long as it has in you.

Again, you're the only one undressed. His hands knead the plush of your ass, the massage to your sore glutes drawing a moan from you. He pushes you up his chest and you move your knees, until his face is level with your cunt, nose caressing your throbbing clit. You have to grip the headrest of the backseat to keep yourself steady, neck craned. His palms cup the backs of your thighs, keeping them apart.

He's already put his mouth on you, but for some reason, this time feels more vulnerable. You become unconsciously alert of the fact you are not the girl you used to be, the one who shaved every inch of her body before going on a date, and scrubbed her skin with perfumed body wash. You have been sweating all day in the French humidity, and not a single part of you is hairless. When he attempts to pull you to his mouth, you resist with a wiggle of your hips.

"You don't—we don't have to do this, you know. I mean, I haven't shaved in years and—"

He bites your thigh. "Stop talking."

"Ghost, I'm disgusting."

His brows furrow, confused, before he exhales a soft laugh, breath fanning your cunt. "I don't care."

You writhe. "No, seriously—"

"I'm a big boy, Twix," he throws back you.

His tone is final, and with that, he ignores your protests and tightens his hands on you, pulling you to sit on his jaw. His tongue licks a bold stripe from hole to clit, then back down to your hole, where he swirls it a few times before pushing in. Your mouth hangs open in a silent surrender. It is you at his mercy now. His mouth feels even hotter on your cunt for some reason, causing your head to lull forward because of the ceiling, hair dangling.

Your nails scrape into the leather. His tongue fucks you, nursing the sore flesh that his cock had stretched. He pushes you down with more force, and meets the juncture of your thighs with an arch of his neck, pressing his face deeper. There is a small worry that he might not be able to breathe, but it is erased when his tongue visits your clit with a heady groan, the vibrations of his vocal chords making your muscles flinch. He circles it with a light pressure. You reach down to grip his hair, silently demanding more. He listens, pressing his tongue harder.

"Fucking... yeah, like that."

One of his hands glides up your stomach and squeezes your breast. He keeps sucking, toiling with your puckered nipple at a similar pace. Despite the uncomfortable position, your hips buck and thrash. Your hand slaps against the window as he makes a sloppy mess out of you. The overgrown stubble on his jaw scrapes between your tightened thighs and the sting adds to the overwhelming sensations. You attempt to lift off, seeking a break, but he growls and strikes your ass, forcing you back down.

He licks at you expertly, as if having figured you out in just a few minutes. You screw your eyes shut, a small but swift orgasm rolling through you when you hear him slurp at your folds. He gathers it with a sweep of his tongue, humming. The aftermath leaves your trembling, breath jagged, as a larger one grows towards release.

"Been thinking about that all day," he whispers against you, continuing his ministrations. "Got another one for me?"

His tone feels mocking and desperate at once. Your nails press painfully into the condensation-painted glass. Your other hand fists back in his hair, curling and uncurling, but there is no point in trying to fight it, not when he parts your cunt with his fingers so he can lick more of it. You cum again, harder, almost convulsing as your head bangs upward. It feels never-ending, your moans uncontrollable. He laps you through it, even more relentless, drawing the pleasure for a near-minute, until your lungs can hardly function and you feel like you might collapse.

Your body is pliant and jelly-like when it finally fades. He takes hold of your waist to keep you upright, and pulls his mouth away with a dribble of leakage down his chin. Already, you know it will be impossible to forget that sight, his eyes dazed as if he is the one who just came twice.

His touch turns somewhat tender when he helps you back down to his lap. He doesn't bother wiping the obscenity from his mouth when he kisses the corner of your lips, firmly, then helps you slip back into your clothes since your brain doesn't seem to have full control over your limbs yet. It's when you place a hand on his thigh to shimmy on your jeans that you feel a distinguishable wet spot.

He finished, too.

The discovery makes your chest swell, and you nibble at your lip as you finish changing.

"Thanks," you whisper to him.

He doesn't say anything. He keeps the seat reclined and allows you to lay limp against him, feeling the uneven pace of his heart that matches your own. Clearly, he is a man of his word. This will not be a one time thing, even if it is just fucking. You sigh in sheer exhaustion from the day's activities, unable to ignore the weight in your eyelids as you inhale the residual musk in the air between your bodies. His chest feels firm and warm, a decent place to rest your head, and you think you feel a touch caress your hair.

You are supposed to be staying up to keep watch, but he doesn't seem ready to move you. Somewhere between wondering how long you can keep this hidden from Blue, and dreading how far you will have to walk again tomorrow, you drift to sleep.

When morning arrives, you are not curled up in a car, but tucked in a sleeping bag.

Ghost must've put you here, but you have no recollection of it, squinting your eyes against the harsh incoming of sunlight through the nylon walls. Nereida is in the bag beside you, not Blue, which offers a thread of relief. You carefully extricate yourself without waking her and join an awakened Price and Kyle for breakfast.

This morning feels slower than the last. Satisfied with the distance covered yesterday, Price is content with just making it to a town called Englos today. Then, you can focus on finding food and water during the evening.

Your energy is replenished with tomato soup and stale crackers. Blue sits with Ari to eat, and you casually glance at her, but she gives you a subtle shake of her head. No, she hasn't talked to him yet. You offer a small, forced smile and look away.

The day's journey begins after what you would guess is around 8 am. As you walk, you redo your braids, tucking the strands into place so they don't stick to your forehead. Kyle falls in step beside you in comfortable silence, while Ghost moves to the front of the group. He treats you exactly as before—offering only the rare glance of acknowledgment. As if you hadn't just sat on his face last night. As if he hadn't ate you out like you were a source of sustenance.

Though, you’re grateful for his distance. It makes it easier to stay discreet. If he were to look at you too long, you might give yourself away.

It's just fucking.

Nothing but small towns and sprawling fields surrounds you. You pick up a few more words of French and think back to how your parents took you here, but never to the countryside. It's beautiful. Picturesque, even, except for the occasional skeleton tucked between ambery stalks of wheat. You pass through a place called Bailleul, where the remaining buildings remind you of England, when you spot black graffiti inked on a small clock tower.

N'allez pas à Fleurbaix.

"Allez means go," you murmur, stepping over some broken glass. "So what does n'allez pas mean..."

"Picking up a new language?"

You swing your head at Kyle, blinking, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

"Yeah. I thought it might come in handy when chatting with the thriving local population."

He shakes his head in amusement. "Have you been here before?"

"When I was a kid. Once to Paris, and once to a ski resort."

"Ah. So you were one of those kids."

You frown. "What kids?"

"The kids who had money to go skiing."

You shrug, thinking back. "I mean, we weren't rich by any means. Just comfortable."

He nods, the companionable silence resuming as you replay the graffitied words in your head. N'allez pas must mean do not go. Do not go to Fleurbaix. You are about to ask Kyle if that is where you are headed when he speaks first.

"Are we good, Twix?"

His question throws you off guard. You make eye contact and he raises an expectant brow as if he is referring to something...

Right. He kissed you. It feels like forever ago since it happened, but it was only a week maybe. The memory almost makes you cringe, especially in comparison to what you've done with Ghost the past two days.

"Yeah," you dismiss breathily. "Yeah, of course. We're good."

He seems genuinely relieved by your answer, smiling with a sliver of teeth. "Good. I'm glad. I was an idiot and not in the right headspace. But still, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I've been trying to give you space."

"It's fine, honestly," you tell him. "We are all under a lot of stress."

He releases a breath, then brushes a shoulder against yours. "So we're friends, you and I? Or something like that."

You nod with a little laugh, shifting the backpack. "Something like that. By the way, do you know if we are going by a place called—"

"Gaz. Come here for a moment," Ghost calls.

His tone is abrupt, causing everyone to halt. Without question, Kyle jogs over, his boots scraping against the gravel as he moves toward Ghost, who is crouched on one knee, fingers brushing over the matted grass at the side of the road. You squint, trying to figure out what’s caught their attention, and step closer to get a better look.

"A lot of them," Kyle says quietly, his palm pressing gently into the flattened vegetation. Now, you can see it—clear signs of something recently passing through. The ground is torn up, the plants bent and trampled. "It can't have been long ago," he adds, frowning as he observes the damage.

Ghost doesn't look up as he responds. "A horde went through here. Maybe in the last day." He inhales the humid breeze, and shifts his gaze toward Price. "I can smell them from the east."

"We could run right into them if we keep following the D231," Price mutters, drumming his fingers on the rear of his gun. He glances at the nearest road signs, then unfolds the map. "We could shift west for a few kilometers, through Fleurbaix, then cut back toward Englos."

"I just saw something that warned against going to Fleurbaix," you speak up.

Ghost's brow rises. You ignore the nerves that prickle your cheeks beneath his stare.

"I mean, there are signs saying keep out of everywhere by now," Kyle reasons. "That's probably from the start of the infection."

"It's either Fleurbaix, or risk a run in with the horde," Ghost says.

You nod, more so to yourself, and murmur under your breath. "Fleurbaix it is, then."

Bailleul fades at your backs as you keep moving.

The scent of Greys lingers in the shifting air, but it is difficult to detect amid the strong aroma of flowers that pop up in every shade, replacing the fields of wheat. Roses, violets, and some yellow one you don't recognize ornate the rolling hills for as far as you can see. The buildings turn more upright, strong stone that has yet to falter from neglect. You keep reading the signs, even though you don't have the map to refer to, and your spine tightens when you read Fleurbaix: 1 km.

You unsling your bow without thinking, tapping your nails against the wood.

The road becomes a bit windier as it cuts through some small farms. You even spot a few cows roaming the overgrown pastures which Blue seems curious by. You notice more painted words on the sides of the homes: Nous devons expier nos péchés. It repeats a few times, but you fail to translate it. The only part that clicks is nous, which you think means we.

We something... something...

After crossing a small bridge over a dried creek bed, you excuse yourself to relieve your bladder.

"Keep going, I'll catch up."

You step over what looks like a metal dog chain left on the road and situate yourself between a tree and old BMW. Squatting burns your thighs, and reminds you of your dried cum on them that you've tried, yet failed, to completely wipe off. You clench your teeth as you pee, when there is a sudden sound behind you that makes you flinch, and you quickly zip back up before whirling around. A rat—your shoulders sink. It sits up on its hind legs and stares at you with beady eyes.

"I guess I'm just jumpy sometimes, little guy," you whisper, leaning in. "You would be, too, if you've had to deal with what I have." The rat doesn’t blink. "Right. Well, I’m sure Ghost would think this is incredibly sexy—me having a talk with a rodent."

You sigh, watching him scurry away, but then another rat darts over your boot. You jerk back, gaze following its direction to an old building—a schoolhouse or chapel, judging by the circular stained-glass window below the roof. Beautiful shrubs lines the sides, seemingly well-kept. The door hangs ajar, with more vermin pouring out in an endless line.

"Jesus. Quite a lot of friends you have, huh?"

You glance down the road. The others are still close but walking ahead. You should catch up. It's not safe alone. But against your better judgment, you step toward the door, pushing it open. Rats scatter underfoot as a thick, rancid smell hits you. Death—fresh and cloying, even more so than the flowers.

Blood streaks the stone floor inside, pooling where vermin feast. Splintered pews lead to an altar. You freeze. Lying there ceremoniously is what's left of a body, hardly recognizable—ribs torn through flesh, a dangling optic nerve, a mangled groin. A plethora of bite marks cleave through the remains. Bile rises in your throat as the sound of gnawing echoes through against the sun-lit walls.

But what truly grips you is the writing, in blood, draped over a small cross.

Nous devons expier nos péchés.

You whip around and run, the door closing heavily behind you.

"Simon!" His name claws up your throat.

#simon ghost riley x you #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

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someonegoood · 4 months ago

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THE CORPORATE EQUATION sweet epilouge ✫ jeon jungkook

the company heads out for a corporate retreat, where tensions run high and personal boundaries blur. During a casual evening event, the HR team inadvertently discovers the secret relationship between you and Jungkook.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

The private resort was a picture of luxury—secluded, sprawling, and nestled between mountains and a crystal-clear lake. It was meant to be a “corporate retreat,” a weekend of bonding and strategizing between the HR and PR teams, with the CEOs in attendance to ensure productivity.

In reality, it was an excuse for overworked employees to drink expensive wine on the company’s dime while pretending to network.

And, unfortunately for you, it also meant being stuck in the same space as Jungkook for an entire weekend—with no desks, boardrooms, or email chains to act as a buffer.

The HR and PR teams were already packed onto the large charter bus by the time you arrived, hurrying down the aisle in search of a seat. Unfortunately, it seemed every spot had been taken—except one.

Right next to Jeon Jungkook. Great.

Jungkook, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, barely spared you a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Uh… there aren’t any other seats,” you muttered, gripping the headrest beside him.

He exhaled through his nose, then shifted slightly, gesturing to the open space next to him. “Sit.”

You hesitated for half a second before sliding in, careful not to brush against him. But the space between seats was too small, and despite your best efforts, your thigh pressed against his.

Jungkook stiffened but didn’t say anything. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from his body. This was ridiculous. It was just a bus ride.

Minji, sitting a few rows ahead, turned and wiggled her brows at you. You shot her a glare. The bus rumbled to life, and soon, the city blurred into the countryside. Conversations hummed around you, but in your little corner, silence stretched.

Until Jungkook spoke.

“You’re fidgeting.”

You glanced up, caught off guard. “Huh?”

He tapped his thigh. “Your leg. You keep moving it.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—Sorry.”

You stilled, but then the bus hit a bump, and you really didn’t have a choice but to press into him. Jungkook tensed. His jaw ticked.

“Relax,” he muttered after a beat, voice lower than usual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal? Easy for him to say.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as your heart pounded against your ribs. It was going to be a long ride.

The night was warm, and the resort’s pool was dimly lit, the water reflecting the soft golden glow of the nearby lights. Jungkook leaned against the edge, half-submerged, the cool water doing little to dispel the heat curling in his stomach.

Because you were there. Laughing. Smiling. Completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

You had arrived late, dressed in a sleek black swimsuit that made his throat dry. The HR team had cheered when you finally joined them, and he had tried—really tried—to keep his eyes off you.

It didn’t work.

Especially not when you waded into the pool, water gliding up your body, trailing over your skin in ways that made his fingers twitch.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away.

“Bro, you’re staring.”

Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of it. He turned to find his friend floating lazily beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Jungkook scowled. “Shut up.”

Taehyung chuckled, but before he could say more, a splash of water hit them both.

“Oops,” you said, all faux innocence, blinking at Jungkook through your lashes. “Was that too much?”

Jungkook raised a brow. “You did that on purpose.”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Something hot and dangerous curled in his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play this?

Without a word, he lunged—water sloshing as he grabbed your wrist and tugged, sending you tumbling toward him with a yelp. The movement was quick, effortless.

Suddenly, you were pressed against his chest, eyes wide, breath hitched.

Jungkook smirked, voice low. “Still feeling playful?”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, Minho’s voice rang out.

“Hey! No making out in the pool!”

Laughter erupted. You pushed away from Jungkook, face burning, while he merely leaned back against the edge, looking far too pleased with himself.

Yeah. This weekend was dangerous.

The resort’s garden was quiet, the scent of blooming flowers lingering in the cool evening air. You strolled along the path, enjoying the peace—until you spotted Jungkook leaning against a wooden railing, watching the koi pond.

Alone. You smirked, perfect.

“CEO Jeon,” you drawled, stepping beside him. “Brooding again?”

He didn’t look away. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

You blinked. Heat flooded your face. “What?”

Jungkook finally turned, lips twitching. “You’re easy to fluster.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I hate you."

Jungkook smirked, the glow of the lanterns catching the sharp curve of his lips. "No, you don’t."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I came here for peace, not to be bullied."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Funny. I thought you came here looking for me."

Your stomach flipped. The way he said it—low, teasing, dangerous—made heat creep up your neck.

Before you could retaliate, a voice cut through the still night air.

"Jungkook!"

You stiffened. Eunji.

She walked toward you both, poised and effortless, her form-fitting dress swaying around her thighs. She wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t rushing. No—Eunji never rushed. She moved like she owned every room she entered. And worst of all? Jungkook didn’t immediately tell her to leave.

Your stomach twisted.

“I was looking for you,” she said smoothly, barely sparing you a glance. Then, with a practiced smile, she added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

With her.

The unspoken words lingered, thick as smoke in the air.

Your mood soured instantly.

Jungkook, oblivious—or maybe just indifferent—to the sudden shift in energy, raised a brow. “What do you need?”

Eunji stepped closer, closing the space between them. Then, as if it was nothing, she laid a hand on his arm.

Your breath hitched.

“Just a quick chat about the PR strategy,” she murmured, her fingers grazing his sleeve like she had every right to touch him. Like it was normal. Casual. Expected.

Something bitter curled in your chest. Seriously? She couldn’t have waited? You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm.

Forcing a tight, polite smile, you cleared your throat. “I should go.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his focus snapping back to you. “You don’t have to—”

But you were already turning away. And when you glanced back, Eunji was still touching him.

Still smiling up at him like she belonged there. Your chest ached.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

The scent of burning wood curling into the cool evening air as the flames from the bonfire flickered against the dark sky. The corporate retreat had been filled with structured team-building exercises and tedious strategy meetings, but this—this was the first moment that truly felt alive.

People gathered in clusters, some perched on wooden benches, others sprawled out on blankets across the grass. Laughter echoed around the open-air patio, the sound of clinking glasses blending with the low hum of conversation.

You glanced across the bonfire-lit patio, where your HR team—Soojin, Dohyun, Minji, and Minho—were deep in conversation, laughing over something Minho had said. Further down, Hajun, Jungkook’s ever-efficient assistant, was nursing a glass of whiskey while keeping a watchful eye on his boss.

Jungkook, for his part, had claimed one of the large wooden logs arranged in a circle around the fire, lounging with an effortless kind of ease that contrasted sharply with the tension you felt coiling in your stomach. He was surrounded by his cousins, Seokjin and Yoongi, both looking equally relaxed.

Seokjin, as usual, had taken up the role of storyteller, gesturing wildly as he spun some exaggerated tale from their childhood, much to Yoongi’s quiet amusement.

And then, of course, there was Taehyung. How he had ended up at a corporate retreat when he didn’t even work at the company was beyond you. But when you’d asked, he’d merely smirked, claiming he was an “unofficial consultant” before pouring himself a generous glass of whatever expensive liquor had been set out.

“Someone had to make sure this trip wasn’t completely boring,” he had added with a wink.

The fire crackled, sparks dancing into the night as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions loosened. Someone had brought out a speaker, soft music blending into the conversations. The warmth of the flames mixed with the lingering buzz of the drinks, and for a moment, the lines between colleagues and friends blurred.

But as you watched Jungkook from across the fire, his jaw tight as he laughed at something Seokjin said, his gaze flickering to you for the briefest second—something told you tonight was going to be different.

Then there was Eunji—your not-so-subtle rival from PR—who had been eyeing you all evening with barely veiled suspicion.

"You're being weird," Soojin murmured beside you, nudging your arm.

You blinked. "What?"

"You keep sneaking glances at CEO Jeon." She wiggled her brows. "Got something to confess?"

Minji, overhearing, gasped. "Wait—no way. Do you have a thing for Jungkook?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"She better, considering they’ve been secretly dating for months."

Every head at your table snapped toward the source—none other than Seokjin, who had the smuggest expression imaginable as he leaned back in his chair.

You choked on air. Jungkook, seated beside him, tensed but said nothing, his gaze flicking toward you as the words registered across the firelit patio.

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted.

Soojin nearly spilled her drink. Minho swore. Dohyun clapped a hand over his mouth. Minji, ever the dramatist, gasped so hard she nearly lost consciousness. Hajun, sipping his whiskey, merely raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised.

Eunji, on the other hand, looked delighted. "You and Jungkook?" She leaned forward, eyes glinting. "So that's why you've been so smug lately."

"I— No, we-" You turned to Jungkook, expecting him to deny it, but instead, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered something under his breath.

That was all the confirmation anyone needed.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TRUE!" Soojin shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjected. "Since when?!"

Yoongi, who had been silently sipping his drink, finally spoke up, deadpan. "Since forever."

"Why are we just now finding out?" Dohyun demanded, looking genuinely offended.

Jungkook sighed. "Because it was none of your business? We're not dating."

"Wrong answer." Minji shook her head. "The correct answer was, ‘Because we were waiting for the right time to tell you, our dear and beloved friends whom we trust deeply.’ But no, you went with ‘None of your business.’ Unbelievable."

Soojin turned to you, still in shock. "Are you seriously dating Jungkook? As in, our CEO Jungkook? Grumpy CEO Jungkook? Will-fire-you-with-one-look Jungkook?"

Your face was on fire. "Yes."

The reaction was instant—cheers, dramatic gasps, and a round of mock applause. Even Taehyung looked impressed.

"I'm actually kind of proud of you," he told Jungkook, nudging his arm. "I thought you'd die alone."

Jungkook shot him a glare. "Thanks, Taehyung."

But before the conversation could spiral further, Hajun finally spoke, his voice calm and steady as always. "Alright, enough with the theatrics," he said, setting his glass down. "What matters is that they're happy. And if they wanted to keep it private, we should respect that."

A pause. Then—

"You knew, didn't you?" Minho narrowed his eyes at Hajun.

Hajun smirked, taking another sip of whiskey. "I know everything."

Jungkook groaned. You buried your face in your hands. This retreat was not going as planned.

The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly against the darkened sky. Most of the group had dispersed—some retreating to their rooms, others lingering near the patio, finishing off bottles of wine and whiskey. But you had wandered away, needing space, needing air. The cool night breeze off the lake did little to calm the turmoil in your chest.

You were still thinking about earlier. Jungkook and Eunji.

Eunji’s hand on his arm. Her effortless smile. The way she had looked at him—like she had a right to be there. Like she had a right to him. And worst of all? The way he hadn’t immediately pushed her away.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you stared at the water, your reflection rippling under the moonlight.

Then, footsteps. Jungkook.

He approached quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Something cautious. "You okay?" His voice was low, just for you.

You let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked humor. "I mean… our secret kind of... relationship just got very public, so I’d say I’m still processing."

Jungkook’s lips twitched. "Seokjin is never going to let me live this down."

You scoffed. "Seokjin? Jungkook, none of them are letting us live this down."

"True." He tilted his head, watching you carefully before adding, "Are you… mad?"

That made you turn to him fully. "Why would I be mad?"

Jungkook hesitated, his jaw tightening for just a moment. "Because of earlier. At the park."

Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew.

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze back to the lake. "I mean… you didn’t exactly stop her from touching you."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. "You think I wanted that?" His voice was firm now, edged with something frustrated—like the idea of you doubting him genuinely bothered him.

You bit your lip, but before you could speak, he took a step closer, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill. "I only have eyes for you," he said, voice quieter now, more certain.

"I don’t care about Eunji. Or about my ex. I never have. And if I didn’t shut them down fast enough, it’s only because I was too busy watching you and trying to figure out how the hell to make it right."

Your breath hitched.

"So let me make it right now," he murmured, closing the last bit of space between you.

You reached for his hand first, lacing your fingers through his. "I don’t mind," you admitted. "If anything, I think it’s kind of a relief. I hated pretending you weren’t—" You swallowed, cheeks warming. "—important to me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head. "Because I’m done pretending, too."

And then, under the soft glow of the moon, with the sound of the lake lapping against the shore, he kissed you—not in secret, not hidden away, but out in the open.

For the first time, it wasn’t a secret. And for the first time, it didn’t need to be.

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eddiazx · 7 months ago

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frosty - eddie diaz x reader

(I was staring at this gif for an embarrassingly long time. Angry Eddie is my JAM)

You might be cursed.

What other reason could there possibly be for you to be stuck in a cabin with a man that you loathe while there was a record-breaking blizzard happening outside?

Bobby thought that renting a cabin in Big Bear for the weekend would be a nice way to celebrate the holidays and for the team to bond (never mind that you guys already willingly spent every waking moment together). You weren't on shift the Friday, so you had decided to head to the cabin earlier and bake a little something before the rest of the team headed up the Saturday. Little did you know, Eddie Diaz had a similar plan.

To say that Eddie was a thorn on your side was an understatement. He was always critiquing you, disliking your reckless ways and stubbornness. The two of you had never gotten along, and Bobby had understood to never pair the two of you in tasks around the firehouse. Poor Buck got the brunt of it by being best friends with the two of you and never knowing whose side to take.

"You know, I've seen dogs wait for their owners like that." Eddie quips from his position leaning against the staircase railing. You were practically glued to the large window overlooking the cabin's front yard, desperately hoping the snow would slow down. The rest of the 118 would not be able to make their way up if the weather continued like this, and you don't know if you'd be able to make it another second alone with this man.

"Shut up, Edmundo."

"Don't call me that." Eddie seethes.

"Or what, huh?" You walk over to him haughtily, jabbing your index finger right in his chest. "What're you going to do?"

Eddie grips your wrist, preventing you from poking him further. His nose is flared as he stares down at you, his cheeks turning a faint red. You're subconsciously aware that this was the closest the two of you had ever been; always having a buffer in the form of another 118 member. This was the first time you were seeing Eddie up close and personal, and your body was betraying you. Your heart was racing and your whole body was flushing warm. You found Eddie... attractive?

Oh no.

Eddie seems to have some sort of realization himself, because he crashes his lips onto yours, the momentum of it making you stumble back. He places his hands under your butt and lifts you effortlessly, before turning and sitting you on the stairs.

"You drive me insane, you know that?" Eddie breathes, settling his hands on the stairs on either side of you, caging you in.

"Ditto, Diaz. Now, are you gonna fuck me or what?"

Eddie shakes his head. "You're infuriating. I will, but I wanna do something first."

You observe as Eddie settles on his knees between your legs. His fingers deftly unbuttons your pants, pulling it down until they pool at your ankles. He doesn't bother to fully take them off before he moves your underwear to the side, and his lips latch onto your clit.

"Oh my GOD." You moan, intertwining your fingers in Eddie's hair and pulling him closer to you.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back at the firehouse, Buck, Hen, Chim and Bobby are seated at the dinner table.

"Do you really think your plan is going to work, Bobby?" Chim asks, blowing into his cup of hot chocolate.

"Yeah, shouldn't we check that they haven't killed each other yet?" Hen chimes in.

"I have a really good feeling about it, guys." Bobby simply grins.

#eddie diaz smut #911 x reader #911 x you #911 imagine #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz #eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #christmas fic #enemies to lovers #I don't live in the states guys so sorry for the geographical mistakes

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crimsonmochi · 5 months ago

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Disarray ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Satoru had always been a bit unhinged, but he would never hurt anyone without a reason, right? That went against his philosophy, what he stands for... right?

Pairing. yandere! Satoru Gojo x gn! reader

Content. MDNI, obsessive! gojo, sorcerer! gojo, violence, murder, mentions of blood, gorey descriptions, dead dove: do not eat, traumatized! reader, no gendered pronouns for reader, mentions of therapy, mentions of medication, mentions of non-religious consumption of alcohol, no beta we die like―

Word Count. 1.9k

A/N. idk lol im just yappin luv u all

A vetted machinery, operating on the principles instilled within its very core from the start, killing methodically rather than senselessly. Or rather, he thought he did, but all principles are nearly a facade which are easy to cross. A weapon trying so hard to fit amongst a world incapable of restraining him or withstanding his lethality could only sacrifice so much humanity, could only chip away at his mind for so long.

As he stood over your boyfriend's limp body, the heart which was once beating inside the man's chest obliterated and hollowed out by his disastrous technique, Satoru Gojo felt like a man instead of an artillery. A confiscating rush of force, a surging envy to do what he wanted, was all it took. There was no single individual on this earth capable of holding him accountable for what he had just done, what he had accomplished.

He was an impossible force of nature with the power to force anyone he judged to stand in his way to be met with a fatal outcome if he saw fit.

Of course, Satoru had a justification for this seemingly senseless outburst. He deemed you would never be truly free under the guidance and influence of this pathetic, moronic individual you had the nerve to call your boyfriend. What kind of man screams at their other half for wearing clothes that they chose to purchase with their own money and agency?

A real man would bring the whole world to its knees if it meant that their partner could walk the streets protected from wandering eyes, catcalls and harassment. A skirt would not be a threat to months of work on a relationship but rather an emblem of security. Satoru pitied your now-deceased boyfriend for not bothering to look past his futile insecurities but detested him for making you responsible for his fragile ego.

Crimson blood pooled on the floor, a river of what could have been seeping into the ground and threatening to stain Satoru's pristine white shoes. He took a step backwards, abruptly hit by the cool air whirling past his ears, his focus torn from the lifeless corpse before him.

Satoru could have easily disposed of the body, could have demolished it and let him fade away from the conscience of all sentient life on earth. Though that would have made sense to any other killer person, it would have tainted his process with unnecessary buffering. It served to have the body be found, as it could cast a warning to other specimens eager to get with you, advising them not to get close, and it would save you time worrying about the idiot he took his time to get rid of for you.

And he walked instead of teleporting that night, his anxiety flared up. Would you accept the truth? The reality that the one you said you loved is gone for good? If you pieced it all together, if your mind settled on him as the culprit, would you understand? Would your reasoning match his? Would you smile despite your grief?

Were you just as depraved as him?

You had to be. You were crafted specially for him, a dove waiting to be cradled by his hands, no matter how spoiled and rough they were. Even if his hold stained your pure white feathering.

Annoyed was an understatement when you cried for your murdered partner, your state of shock leaving your chest desperately heaving for a molecule of oxygen as you questioned the reality of the news given to you by his no-good parents. But alas, he forced waves of tenderness through his limbs as he stayed for you, to comfort you. You would understand someday. You would learn to forget him.

Your rehabilitation was slower than the timeframe Satoru anticipated. He could not fathom your sappy attitude towards it all. This was meant to be a gift, a liberation―and yet, your heart was taking it as a living nightmare. As the weeks stretched, his sneers grew bigger, and his scoffs louder. His impatience was never directed at you but rather at the memory of your dead boyfriend simply not fading quick enough.

Satoru's takeaway? He should have killed him sooner.

One could only imagine the state he was in as you told him about a new date you had planned with a nice man from the bakery down the street, wearing a smile on your pretty face that still wore the scars of your depression and exhaustion. Disbelief was one thing; another was pure rage, rage that you did not pick him once again.

But no matter, he understood what he had to do. If you could not get it through your beautiful little head that he was the primary constant in your life, he just had to go ahead and make sure to be the only remaining choice you had left. He needed you to realize the extent of the all-consuming adoration he reserved for you and only you.

Which is precisely why he stalked and killed your date as he commuted to his home, the man's oozing blood reflecting the yellow-toned light of the streetlamps, washed down by the rain into the sewers. Grinning, Satoru took in the disfigured head of the ugly bastard he had rid life from, brains and grey matter pouring out from where he hollowed out, right in the middle of the victim's face.

Except that this repeat offence did not help you see clearer whatsoever. You cried in the shower instead after getting the news, murmuring that perhaps you were simply cursed, one of those horrifying creatures Satoru spoke to you of.

Speak of the devil, he was quick to gather your form in his arms, quick to comfort, despite being the culprit of those atrocities that just seemed to follow you around. He cooed into your ear until you fell asleep, salty, tear-stained cheeks sticking to his cotton shirt. How could you not understand, after all of this, that this is perfectly where you were meant to be?

He made his presence more permanent as he unconventionally moved into your apartment with you by making your meals, taking care of your groceries, watering your plants, doing chores―all under the guise of being simply an overly concerned friend. You poor thing, all these tragedies must be getting to your head, hm? Why else would you see his eyes a bit crueller than before?

It was as if you had lost touch with the ground and the space all at once. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, nights. Weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. You felt guilty for even breathing, empty for daring to experience a flicker of anything other than the deep pit those back-to-back losses left in the depths of your heart.

And then, there was Satoru, always at your beck and call, affectionate to no end, revered by patience itself. A saint.

The illusion finally started to end the night you brought back flowers from work. An array of gentians and African lilies peppered with baby's breath in various spaces. You made the mistake of, in an attempt of celebratory happiness, mentioning to Satoru that they were from a coworker, one you had known for quite a few years. A faded smile, a scowl he denied wearing, an accusation, and a few awkward words were enough to leave you both in silence, ruminating.

Satoru did the only thing he knew how to do by this point; he killed. And he killed. And he killed two more whilst he could. He remained kind to you, grateful that you still hadn't pieced that the common denominator was himself, the man who stayed alive through it all.

Explaining this all to your therapist made you feel insane, your own brain trying desperately to catch up with the constant whiplash the death and decay around you inflicted. The medication professionals prescribed was only enough to make the survivor's guilt quiet but not enough to get rid of the urges to end the cycle of massacre.

All the tears, the swirl in your brain of intrusive and impulsive thoughts putting you down, and the never-ending search for clarity led you to familiar vices. One or two nights of too much expensive wine you were gifted long ago, and you were pissed and emotional, letting all your guards down, making decisions you would have never believed yourself capable of making.

One of those decisions was kissing Satoru, tired eyes shut closed as you impulsively gave in to months of loneliness and trauma-bonding.

Reasonably, you panicked. You had now shown interest in a man―surely, in the morning, you'd peek your head from the hallway, look to your couch and see his blood staining the heavyweight cotton. You were a death sentence, after all, a walking grim reaper with too big of a heart and never enough time to say sorry, goodbye. Maybe you wouldn't get to say sorry to Satoru either, right?

And yet, he was content and smiling in the morning, alive and warm to the touch, palpable. For a moment, your heart started beating at a normal rate, as opposed to the uneven tambourine rhythm at which it had been beating before last night. You could touch him; he was there. You could hug him, wrap your arms around him, and he wouldn't vanish.

Satoru was over the moon that you had finally come to your senses. That you had chosen him after the senseless cruelty he had to abide by in order to make this shift happen. It had taken months of tireless efforts to get to his goal, but he had you within his grip.

It took months of reassurance that he was still alive―texts every five minutes, constant physical touch, staring at him and lying by him on the floor―for your anxieties to subside. The emptiness still remained an ache that Satoru himself had caused yet now tried to soothe. He worshipped the ground that you walked on and took care of your every need, and it felt too good to ever question.

His anger, his resentment for those pesky flies orbiting around you and trying to steal you away, finally subsided. He never quite got out of the habit of jumping to murder once an individual dared to show interest in you, but the reminder that you loved him now brought him back to earth. The comfort of knowing that would always be an option, though, was enough to hold him back. For now.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

As your head whipped up from the wedding planner in your soft hands to look at Satoru, a piece of your hair fell over your face, his careful hand reaching to place it back behind your ear, a gentle grin painted on his face.

"What a question to ask after proposing," you chuckled, the corners of your lips curling up to match his expression. "I mean, a little. At least, after everything."

Your eyes gazed back at the images of flower arrangements. A particular one caught your eye; gentians, African lilies, and baby's breath. You checked the little tick box with the marker attached to the binder on the shiny laminated sheet.

"I guess that's fair."

Hell only stopped once you accepted him to be the one for you.

Soulmates, those words echoed as you pranced down the aisle, looking like heaven itself. Like the dove, Satoru always saw you as. As though he, a curse, a wicked being for utilizing his power for purely selfish gain and the expense of the one he claimed to love, was deserving of this moment.

And as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, hearing those words for the first time, hearing the answer to all of your turmoil, you smiled, worn out.

Relief, at last, to know the truth behind all of your heartache.

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