#Just voicing everything I have on my mind

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[luveline]

hihihihi! 🥹💕 i want to let you know that i adore your hotch fics! and i wanted to ask if you’d be ok—but no pressure!!!— to write one with bombshell!reader waking up from anesthesia and forgetting hotch and her are already together and starts flirting with him the way bombshell!reader absolutely would lol? thank you!

thanks for requesting lovely! fem, 1k

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re sitting against a pillow with a yoghurt in your hand. You must’ve been on some sort of auto-pilot… Are you in a hospital gown?

You put your yoghurt down on the table that’s been wheeled over your lap and stare at the white-blue chequered gown creased between your thighs. Your head feels heavy. 

“You okay?” 

You drag your gaze to the source of the voice. 

Agent Hotchner sits in the chair next to your bed. He has one leg crossed over the other, but he notices your confusion and his nonchalance turns to concern. “You need help?” 

“With the yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Yeah, honey. I can help.” 

You roll that over in your mind. Stern Agent Hotchner just called you honey. 

You’ve been trying to convince him for a while that you’re someone worth being sweet to. Trying to sway him, because there are parts of him you can’t get out of your head when he’s not around. He has not yet been swayed. Honey is a hand held out you’re going to snatch. 

Hotch stands. He goes to pick up your yoghurt. 

“What, are you gonna spoon feed me?” you ask, a clumsy drawl to your voice.

“I was going to… but I don’t like your tone.” 

Is he flirting back? You must’ve hit your head. “Coward,” you murmur. Speaking of hitting your head, there’s a throbbing behind your eyes, and a dryness to your throat bordering on uncomfortable. The yoghurt was there for a reason, clearly, but you don’t have the energy in you to eat seductively. 

“My head hurts,” you say quietly. 

You close your eyes. 

“I know.” A hand touches your face. You stay very still, though your heart doesn’t. “You don’t feel too hot. Do you want a drink? I can get you anything.” 

“Your hand is so big…” 

“Not so much bigger than your own,” he says. 

“Prove it.” 

He says your name like he knows you well, which sets your racing heart off all over again. But, used to hiding from him, you open your eyes to watch him and wipe all surprise from your face. You raise your hand, and he raises his, and you press your fingers together. Your fingertips don’t reach his, his palm wider, warmer. You thread your fingers carefully into the gaps between his, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. 

Less satisfied when he closes his hand around yours. 

“You’re teasing me,” you say. 

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you lay back properly?” 

“Super, super forward.” You lay back under the pressure of his hand, stricken by the feeling that he’s done something like that before. You rest your head against your elevated pillows and have to give up —you can’t hide how surprised you are at his open touching, his face so close to yours you can see every warm fleck in his dark eyes. 

“You look startled,” he murmurs. 

“I think you’ve been bodysnatched.” 

“I have?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “I can’t keep up. And I’m usually pretty great at that.” 

“At what?” 

“Flirting.” 

“Oh,” he says, taking your hand again, pulling it toward his mouth, “you think I’m flirting?” 

“Is there something wrong with me?” 

“Not beyond the usual. You’re more lucid than they suspected you’d be, actually.” He kisses your knuckles. 

“I’ve hit my head.” 

“No, honey, you were under anaesthesia. Everything’s fine.” 

“You’ve hit your head.” 

He breathes out a laugh. “I don’t remember any injuries, but I’d love to know why you think so.” 

“You’re kissing me.” 

He pauses, lowering your hand. “Yes?” he says cautiously. 

“Would you want to do it again?” 

Hotch puts your hand on your chest. He cups your cheek in one hand, takes your shoulder into the other, and leans down to see you eye to eye. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. You can feel the love he has for you in each word. 

Weirdly, you can feel it in yourself, too. Like, more than a crush. More than wanting him to spin you around or play with your thigh under a desk. You really love him. 

“I think I forgot you,” you say softly. 

“Amnesia is a very common symptom of anaesthesia, don’t worry.” He pulls your face up to peck you, quick but not without a gentleness that has your hands thrumming with pins and needle. “I thought you were acting strange, but I put it down to discomfort. Sorry, I imagine it’s very disconcerting to feel you don’t know me.” 

He just kissed you. “No, I know you, I just… I think I love you, but you don’t usually want me back.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “I’ve always wanted you,” he says, his dulcet tenor another comfort entirely. “And I love you, whether you remember it or not. Should we try to finish your yoghurt?” 

“You really love me?” 

He turns your face to press a kiss into your eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” 

“I do–” You begin before thinking about it, and realise that you’re telling the truth. You remember that he loves you. Agent Hotchner loves you. He’s in your hospital room handling you like thin glass.  

“Well, is there much else to remember?” 

You practically smirk at him. “I can think of some things.” 

“Wow!” He leans down for another kiss. “You’re awful,” he murmurs, his smile soft on your lips. 

[mythicalmaven]

Revealed Desires - Lando Norris

(This is a sequel to Secret Desires, but could also be read separately)

Here is part two of the requested oneshot! I loved writing it so much, that I needed to write a part two! It accidentally turned out WAY longer than I intended, but I love how it turned out! Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you did! :)

Masterlist This is part two of this one (reading the previous part is advised for more context lol, but you technically could read it separately) ↳pairing: Lando Norris x f!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 8,9K ↳Summary: In which the story continues after the reader (Max Verstappen's twin sister) had a rather interesting text exchange with & FaceTime call with her best friend Lando Norris after he had drunkenly texted her about his sexual fantasies about her. ↳content warnings: reader is Max Verstappen's twin sister, Lando is her best friend, but also more, friends to lovers, first kiss, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, handjob, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, orgasm denial, p in v, making love, praise kink,

It had been a few hours since that intimate phone call with you, and yet the giddy sensation still coursed through Lando's veins like wildfire. He obviously still felt incredibly embarrassed about drunk texting you the way he did, but it lead to something great. Something he enjoyed so much, he can't put it into words. The knowledge that you felt the same way about him had turned the usually composed British driver into a lovesick puppy, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He'd been in love with you for quite some time, but now that his feelings were out in the open, everything felt more intense, more real.

Since that call, Lando had managed to shower, get dressed, and gather his things to hang out with a few of the guys at Charles’ place. But the whole time, he’d been distracted, replaying every moment of your conversation, every breathy word exchanged, over and over in his mind.

By the time he arrived at Charles' house and plopped down onto the couch, the weight of it all—how much his life had changed in a few short hours—settled in. But just as he began to sink into his thoughts, he felt a pair of familiar eyes boring into him.

Max was staring at him, that infuriatingly smug grin stretching across his face. "Good morning, Mr. Casanova," Max teased, the humor in his voice impossible to miss as he watched Lando try to hide within the collar of his hoodie.

"Oh god, please, shut up," Lando groaned, pulling the hood further over his face in a futile attempt to disappear. "I don't even remember half of what I said to you last night."

Charles, who had perched himself on the armrest of the couch, took a casual sip of his coffee. The amusement radiating off him was palpable as he clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Max remembers all of it."

Max leaned back into the cushions, making a dramatic gagging sound as if to punctuate his point. "I wish I could forget some of the things you said, mate," he chuckled. "But I have to admit, some of it was pretty funny. Adorable, even."

Lando's face flushed a deep crimson, his stomach twisting with embarrassment. "Do I even want to know what I said?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he avoided the eyes of both his friends.

Charles set his coffee cup down on the table, his expression turning thoughtful. "Well," he began, running a hand through his hair, "you started out pretty innocent. You were going on about how head over heels you are for her—though I can’t recall the exact words, it was clear enough."

Lando groaned again, his face burning with shame as he sank further into the couch. "God, Max, I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I never wanted you to find out like this."

Max raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You really think I didn’t already know you were in love with my sister?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You’ve been obvious for a while now, even when you weren’t drunk off your ass."

Lando’s eyes widened in shock, his heart skipping a beat. "A-Are… you s-serious?" he stammered, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Charles rolled his eyes, smirking. "Dude, you stare at her more than you do your own race car," he teased. "And let’s not forget that your entire way of talking to each other is just… well, flirting."

Lando felt his heart rate pick up, a mix of relief and mortification washing over him. "Oh," he muttered, his voice small.

"But if that was the innocent part," Lando began, dreading the answer, "what in god's name were the other things I said?"

Max snorted, leaning forward with a grin. "Well, once you were really wasted, you didn’t even seem to notice I was there anymore," he began, the disgust creeping back into his voice. "You were pretty much ranting to Charles about how hot she is and how you’d kill to see her naked."

Charles burst out laughing, almost spilling his coffee in the process. "Hey! Don’t leave out the best part," he chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You also said that if you had the chance, you’d fuck her on every single piece of furniture in your house."

Max made a dramatic gagging noise again, waving his hands in front of his face. "Okay, enough, ew," he protested, though the laughter in his voice was unmistakable. "We’re talking about my twin sister here, remember?"

Lando buried his face in his hands, sinking so far into the couch he thought he might disappear entirely. "Fucking hell," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. "I really am a gigantic idiot."

Max’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle as he leaned back into the cushions. "Well, spilling the beans on your feelings was one thing, but I’m curious how you’re going to talk your way out of this with her," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You kept going on about needing to text her about something 'very private.'"

Lando groaned again, this time so deeply it resonated in his chest. "Please don’t remind me," he mumbled, knowing all too well what Max was referring to.

Max grinned, clearly enjoying every second of Lando’s discomfort. "So, after I dragged your sorry ass home, I decided to give her a little heads up," he continued, his voice dripping with teasing humor. "But she told me it was a little too late because, apparently, you had already sent her quite the intense text."

Charles, who had been taking another sip of his coffee, choked on it immediately, coughing violently as he tried to suppress his laughter. "Mon dieu," he managed to gasp out between coughs, his face turning red from the effort. "What the heck did you even text her? Did you send her a nude or something?"

Before Lando could even process the question, Max threw his hands up in the air. "Don’t answer that while I’m in the room! I don’t even want to know!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half horrified. "We’re talking about my twin sister here! I need more coffee."

With that, Max got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Lando and Charles alone in the living room.

Charles eyed Lando with a raised eyebrow, the teasing smirk never leaving his face. "Now, do tell," he urged, clearly eager to hear the juicy details.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. "God, I don’t even want to think about it," he muttered, his voice filled with both regret and reluctant amusement. "I cringe at myself every time I read it back."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you at least talk to her about it?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious. "I mean, considering you’re not sulking in a corner, I assume she doesn’t hate you now, right?"

Lando felt the heat rise to his cheeks again, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ehm… yeah, we talked about it," he admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to downplay the situation.

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, you guys did not…" he started, his voice dripping with playful accusation.

Lando hesitated, biting his lip. "Maybe," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the back with a hearty smack. "So, let me get this straight," he began, still chuckling. "You got wasted, accidentally sexted your best friend, and she… liked it? And then you pretty much continued the conversation? Do you even remember a thing of it, or is your text history your only proof?"

Lando’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he avoided Charles’ gaze, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Ehm… it might’ve happened this morning through text… then later through FaceTime," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Charles let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nice job, mate," he said, his tone filled with both amusement and genuine admiration. "Better not tell Max that you had literal phone sex with his twin sister."

Before Lando could respond, they heard Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen. "God, I really did not want to hear that," Max groaned, his tone laced with exasperation.

Charles laughed again, turning his attention back to Lando. "Well, now that you’ve crossed that line, what’s the next step?" he asked, his tone more serious now. "Are you going to talk to her about where this is going?"

Lando let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I mean… yeah, I guess I have to," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I can’t just pretend like nothing happened."

Charles nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "You’re right," he agreed. "But, honestly, it sounds like you two are already on the same page. You just need to have an actual conversation about it."

Lando nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his chest. "Yeah… I know, we talked about if for a little.." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I admitted my feelings to her. We did kind of agree to starting something real once she's back in Monaco"

Charles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his smile softening. "That's good"

"Yeah, I actually have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow" he told Charles, a hint of something else in his voice "I would lie if I said I wasn't nervous about it. Just scared that she might come to the conclusion that she regrets it, once she sees me in real life again"

*The following day*

Lando sat in his car at the airport, his nerves doubling with each passing second. His fingers fumbled restlessly in his lap as he tried—and failed—to calm himself down. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, his mind racing with thoughts of how he should greet you when you finally arrived. Despite offering numerous times to meet you at the gate, to carry your suitcases like a gentleman, you had refused each one with a teasing smile, insisting that you were "a big girl" and could manage on your own. Now, he wondered if he had been too pushy, if maybe he should have backed off and given you more space.

As he waited, Lando’s mind continued to wage a war against itself. Should he just hug you like he always did, keeping things light and familiar? Or should he throw caution to the wind and kiss you, putting everything on the line? The thought of kissing you, of finally feeling your lips on his after all these years of longing, made his heart race. But what if you didn’t want that? What if you pulled away, leaving him to wallow in his embarrassment?

His internal debate was abruptly cut short by the sound of a knock on his window. Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he met your eyes. There you were, standing just outside his car, a soft smile on your lips. That smile—the one that always made his chest tighten—sent a wave of warmth through him. He quickly opened the door, jumping out to help you with your luggage.

"Hi," you murmured softly, echoing the way you had greeted him during your FaceTime call. The familiarity of your voice, that gentle tone, sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando smiled back, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against yours as you both reached for the handle of your suitcase. The slight contact sent a jolt of electricity up his arm, and he had to resist the urge to pull you into his arms right then and there. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, but the proximity, the way you looked at him, made it impossible to think straight.

"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. In a swift movement, he reached up, sliding his fingers around the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. The world seemed to slow down as he tilted your face up toward his, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally closed the distance between you.

When his lips met yours, it was like every pent-up emotion, every moment of longing, exploded into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a release, an answer to all the questions that had been swirling in his mind. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as he let himself get lost in the sensation of finally, finally, kissing the one girl he had been in love with for what felt like forever.

Your response was immediate and overwhelming. You released the suitcase from your grip, one of your hands moved up to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer, while the other slid down to cover his hand, guiding it to your waist. The heat of your body against his was intoxicating, and Lando felt like he was drowning in you, in the softness of your lips, in the way you seemed to melt into him.

As your kiss deepened, Lando could feel your breath hitch, your body pressing even closer to his as if you couldn’t get enough. He took the invitation, gently parting your lips with his, and when your tongues met, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as he backed you up against the side of the car. The cool metal of the car against your back contrasted with the heat between you, making you gasp softly into the kiss.

Every touch, every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, could hear the soft, breathy sounds you made as the kiss grew more urgent. His hands roamed your back, sliding up to cup your face, then back down to your waist, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, his shoulders, as you gave in to the overwhelming pull of desire that had been building between you for so long. The way Lando kissed you—desperate yet tender, with a mix of hunger and reverence—made your heart swell with emotion. It was as if he was pouring all his love, all his need, into that kiss, and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. Lando’s fingers played with a stray strand of your hair, his touch feather-light as he whispered, "Sorry if that was too straightforward. I just… I couldn’t help myself."

You giggled softly, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Lan, we both know we crossed the 'too straightforward' line already when you sent me that one text," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Lando’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze dropping to the ground as he muttered, "Shut up."

But you weren’t about to let him get away that easily. Smiling, you tilted his chin up with your finger, forcing him to meet your gaze before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Hey, I never said I was complaining" you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with affection.

Lando felt a surge of relief wash over him, his lips curling into a smile against yours. All the tension, all the nerves, seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire being. As you pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours, finding only the same affection and desire that he felt reflected back at him.

"Now, let's get this stuff in the car and head back to my place. Because I think we both waited long enough now, don't you think?" you teased him, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

As Lando and you finally settled into the car, the engine's quiet hum filled the space, a stark contrast to the roaring thoughts and desires that swirled between you. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance more charged. The drive back to your place had never felt so excruciatingly long, and the unspoken understanding between you made the tension all the more palpable.

You both tried to keep the conversation light, casual even, but it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of desire that crackled between you like static electricity. Lando gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, his knuckles turning white as he navigated through the city streets. He stole glances at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen once you finally reached your apartment.

“So, did you miss me?” you teased, your voice playful yet laced with something deeper.

Lando chuckled, his voice strained as he responded. “Miss you?” He shot you a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

Your hand slowly inched its way over to his thigh, resting lightly at first, but enough to make him shift in his seat. You could feel the muscle tense beneath your fingers, his reaction immediate and telling. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, or the subtle clenching of his jaw as he tried to maintain his focus on the road.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and warning, though you could hear the underlying strain, the barely restrained desire.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, your fingers beginning to trace small, teasing circles on his thigh, gradually moving closer to where you knew he was most sensitive. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” Lando’s voice had dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried—and failed—to ignore the effect your touch was having on him. “About what, exactly?”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “About how long this drive is taking. Don’t you think it’s… too long?”

Lando let out a low, frustrated groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You giggled softly, the sound filled with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Your hand moved higher, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. He glanced over at you, his eyes darkening with lust, and you could see the tension in his expression, the way he was barely holding himself together.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, your voice dripping with mock innocence, though the wicked glint in your eyes betrayed your intentions.

“Fuck…” Lando cursed under his breath, his hips involuntarily jerking forward at the contact. “You’re going to make me crash this car if you keep that up.”

But despite his words, he didn’t make any move to stop you. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat, almost as if inviting you to continue. The knowledge that you had this kind of power over him, that you could unravel him with just a few touches, sent a thrill through you, your own arousal growing with each passing second.

As your hand pressed more firmly against him, Lando couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips, low and guttural, filled with the kind of raw need that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. The sound of it, the way his body responded so helplessly to your touch, only fueled your desire, your own breath becoming shallow as you leaned in closer.

“I think you like this,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke, your hand slowly, deliberately, palming him through his jeans. You could feel him hardening beneath your touch, and the thought of what was to come made your own body ache with need.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Lando admitted, his voice rough and strained. He let out another soft moan, his hips shifting again, seeking more of your touch despite his earlier protests. “But you’re also going to regret teasing me like this.”

“Is that a threat?” you teased, your hand now fully exploring the outline of his erection, your fingers pressing just hard enough to drive him crazy, but not enough to satisfy.

“Consider it a promise,” Lando growled, his voice thick with lust. The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, every second feeling like an eternity as you continued to push him closer to the edge.

The rest of the drive was a torturous mix of heated touches and ragged breaths, the air thick with anticipation. Every kilometer that separated you from your apartment seemed to stretch on forever, amplifying the tension that crackled between you. Lando’s eyes flicked from the road to your hand on his bulge, watching as your fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration. His breathing was uneven, the struggle to keep his focus on driving becoming increasingly difficult with each passing second.

You noticed how his grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles white, the strain evident in every line of his body. His jaw was clenched, his gaze forward, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, how his breath hitched every time your fingers palmed over the bulge straining against his jeans.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lando,” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers tracing the outline of his erection with maddening slowness. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his voice strained as he responded. “Trying to focus on not crashing the car, love,” he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and arousal. His eyes briefly met yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “But you’re making that damn near impossible.”

You smiled, pleased with the effect you were having on him. Leaning in closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “What would you do to me if we weren’t in this car right now?”

Lando’s breath hitched again, a soft groan escaping his lips as your words sent a surge of heat through him. He swallowed hard, his mind racing with images of all the things he wanted to do to you. “You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that made your pulse quicken.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your hand pressing more firmly against his erection, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me, Lando. What would you do if you had me all to yourself right now?”

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried to maintain control. “I’d start by pinning you against the wall,” he began, his voice thick with desire. “I’d kiss you until you were breathless, until you couldn’t think straight. And then I’d strip you down, piece by piece, until there was nothing between us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your body reacting instantly to the vivid images he painted with his voice. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the ache of wanting him becoming almost unbearable. “And then?” you prompted, your voice breathy, urging him to continue.

Lando swallowed hard, his hips shifting slightly under your touch. “Then I’d lay you down, spread you out for me,” he continued, his voice growing darker, more intense. “I’d take my time, kiss every inch of you, taste you until you’re begging for more.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips at his words, the need inside you flaring hotter with every second. “Fuck, Lando,” you breathed, your hand moving up to cup him more fully, feeling the hardness beneath your fingers. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You think you’re the only one?” Lando shot back, his voice rough with arousal. He let out another low groan as you began to palm him through his jeans, his hips lifting slightly into your touch, seeking more. “Keep that up and we won’t even make it to your apartment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you were affecting him. “Maybe that’s the idea,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe I want to see how much you can take.”

Lando let out a soft, desperate moan, his control slipping further with every touch, every word. “You’re fucking evil, you know that?” he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as he gave in to the pleasure, his body reacting instinctively to your teasing. “But god, I love it.”

The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, the air thick with the scent of arousal and the promise of what was to come. Every brush of your fingers, every shift of your body sent waves of desire crashing over both of you, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

As you continued to tease him, your own body was alight with need, every fiber of your being aching for him. The sight of Lando struggling to keep his composure, the way he was completely at your mercy, only fueled your desire, your own breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you pressed your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your touch.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando pulled up to your apartment building, the car coming to a sudden, jerky stop as he practically slammed on the brakes. He turned to you, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. “Get out of the car,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained, leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The moment you stepped out, Lando was there, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you back against the car, his lips crashing onto yours with a desperate, almost frantic intensity. The kiss was hot, urgent, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been building between you for so long. His hands roamed your body, sliding down to your hips as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the full extent of his arousal.

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Lando murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you moan softly.

“Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want to feel everything.”

Lando groaned at your words, his control slipping further as he kissed his way down your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, making you gasp.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you toward the entrance of the building. The anticipation was palpable, every step closer to your apartment only adding to the tension between you.

The elevator ride up was a blur of heated touches and frantic kisses, Lando’s lips never leaving your skin as he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough and filled with raw need.

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire as your hands explored the planes of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lando.”

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the taste of you. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you could feel every ounce of his passion, his longing, in the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his hands gripped you as if he was afraid you might slip away.

When the elevator finally dinged at your floor, Lando wasted no time, pulling you out and down the hall toward your apartment. His impatience was evident in the way he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and arousal as he finally managed to unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he had you inside, slamming it shut behind him as he pressed you up against it, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The kiss was even more intense this time, fueled by the knowledge that there were no more interruptions, no more delays. This was it. You were finally alone, and nothing was going to stop what came next.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt, up your back, down to your thighs, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the anticipation becoming almost unbearable.

Lando’s lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I’m going to make you pay for teasing me like that,” he whispered against your neck, his voice a low, seductive growl that made your heart race.

“I’m counting on it,” you replied breathlessly, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pulled him even closer, your body aching with need.

And with that, any remaining restraint between you shattered, the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over as Lando’s hands and lips claimed every inch of you, leaving you both lost in the heat of the moment, eager to make up for all the time you had spent longing for each other.

When his lips left yours again, you barely had time to catch your breath before they were on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His hands continued their slow exploration, moving higher until they reached the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing teasingly over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the contact, your back arching slightly as you pressed into his touch. Lando’s breath was hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands moving to unhook your bra with practiced ease. The garment fell away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

“You have no idea how much I want this,” Lando murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and desire. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he captured your lips in another searing kiss.

“Then stop teasing,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want you, Lando.”

Lando groaned softly at your words, his resolve crumbling as his hands began to roam lower, sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he tugged the fabric down your hips, leaving you in just your panties.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing before him, half-naked and completely vulnerable. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as his hands traced the curve of your hips, his thumbs brushing against the delicate lace of your panties.

Without another word, Lando’s hands moved to your thighs, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. He stood in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness.

The cool air against your exposed skin only heightened your sensitivity, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Lando’s hands moved back up your thighs, his touch firm yet gentle as he spread your legs wider. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to an exposed bit of skin, just behind your ear, before his fingers began their slow, torturous journey closer to your core.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling with need as his fingers hovered just above where you wanted them most. He teased you, his fingertips brushing lightly against your sensitive skin, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. The tension in your body grew unbearable as Lando finally let his fingers slide through your wetness, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He began to move his fingers with expert precision, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, each moan, each gasp fueling his desire. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as his fingers delved deeper, the sensation building with every stroke. You could feel the pressure mounting, your body arching into his touch as you teetered on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, Lando’s movements slowed, his fingers pulling back, leaving you hanging in that unbearable space between pleasure and release. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him, your body aching with the need for more.

But Lando only smirked up at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. “That’s for teasing me in the car,” he teased, his voice low and filled with satisfaction as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. You pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before your hands moved to the waistband of his jeans.

But before you could undo the button, Lando’s hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the kitchen counter. He placed you on the cool surface, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs.

His lips were on yours again, hot and demanding, as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his breathing heavy as he knelt down between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open before him.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his gaze locked on yours as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot. The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your hands flying to his hair as you arched into him, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Lando’s tongue moved with precision, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every second. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, your body trembling with the need for release as he continued to pleasure you with slow, deliberate movements.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, just when you were about to tip over the edge, once again, Lando pulled back, leaving you gasping for breath, your body aching with the need for more.

“Lando!” you cried out, your voice filled with frustration as you looked down at him, your chest heaving with the effort to catch your breath.

Lando only chuckled, a smug smile playing on his lips as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I told you I would make you regret teasing me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with satisfaction as he nipped at your lower lip.

“You're lucky you're hot” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with your fingers. You pushed the fabric down his hips, letting it fall to the floor as you slid off the counter, your hands moving to his hips, guiding him against the kitchen counter, sinking to your knees.

Lando’s breath hitched as you knelt before him, your fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers as you looked up at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. “Is this what you want?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as your fingers brushed against his erection, the contact sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Please,” Lando groaned, his hands clutching at the counter behind him as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and lust. “Don’t tease me.”

But you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted to make him feel the same frustration, the same desperation that he had made you feel. Slowly, deliberately, you began to kiss your way up his thigh, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

"You look so good, Lan. You make me so wet.” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and desire as your fingers teased him, brushing against his erection but never quite touching him where he needed it most.

Lando’s hips jerked forward, a soft moan escaping his lips as he clutched at the counter, his control slipping further with every touch, every kiss. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled up at him, your hands finally sliding up to his boxers, pulling them down to free his aching length. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your own arousal heightening as you took him in your hand, feeling the warmth and hardness of him against your palm.

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. Your thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, gathering the bead of moisture there before sliding back down his length. His hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low groan escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark with lust.

“F-Fuck, that feels so good,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with need. His hands gripped the counter behind him, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. But you could see the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to every touch, every twist of your wrist.

You increased the pace slightly, your strokes becoming firmer, more purposeful as you worked him with your hand. Lando’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to keep his composure. “You like that?” you whispered, your voice sultry, dripping with seduction as you watched him with hooded eyes.

“God, yes,” Lando groaned, his head falling back as another moan slipped from his lips. “So fucking good.”

You smirked, your confidence growing with every sound of pleasure that escaped him. You changed your technique, your grip tightening slightly as you twisted your wrist at the top, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive underside of his tip in a way that made his hips jerk forward, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this what you’ve been fantasizing about?” you asked, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. “Thinking about me, touching you like this?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to find the words. “Yes,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. “Every night. Fuck, you have no idea.”

You smiled, satisfied with his response as you continued to stroke him, your movements becoming a little faster, a little more intense. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, his body trembling with the need for release. “Do you want more, Lando?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the base of his length as you spoke, sending a shiver through him. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

Lando’s eyes flew open, the raw need in them making your own arousal spike. “Please,” he groaned, his voice a desperate plea. “I need it. I need you.”

His words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and without breaking eye contact, you slowly lowered your head, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth. The sensation of his hard length filling you, the taste of him on your tongue, was intoxicating, and you let out a soft moan as you began to move, your mouth working him with the same deliberate, teasing pace you had used with your hand.

Lando’s reaction was immediate, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to maintain control. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

Encouraged by his praise, you began to move faster, your tongue swirling around him, flicking against the sensitive underside as you bobbed your head, taking him in as deep as you could. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his muscles tightened and quivered under your touch, his body responding to every flick of your tongue, every suction of your lips.

You placed your hands on the back of his thighs, your fingers digging into his flesh as you pulled him closer, encouraging him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. “Is this what you wanted?” you asked, pulling back just enough to speak, your voice breathy and filled with desire. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Yes,” Lando groaned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His words only spurred you on, and you resumed your pace, your mouth working him with more intensity, more urgency as you brought him closer to the edge. His breathing grew ragged, his moans becoming more frequent, more desperate as he hovered on the brink of release.

But just as you felt him start to tense, his body trembling with the need for release, you pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a teasing smile. Lando let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back as his hands tightened in your hair, the sensation of being so close yet denied driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed out, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with lust as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, that wicked glint in your eyes. “Why did you stop?”

“Two can play that game,” you whispered, your voice filled with playful challenge as you looked up at him, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his thigh. “How does it feel, Lando? To be so close and yet so far?”

Lando’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and raw need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough with desperation, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he was enjoying this, even if it was driving him crazy.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, heated kiss. “Fucking hell, you have no idea what you do to me” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the counter.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the heat in his voice, the raw intensity of his words sending a surge of desire straight to your core. Lando’s lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly so he could press you even closer against the counter, his body flush against yours. You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, tugging lightly as you deepened the kiss, your tongue teasingly flicking against his.

You could feel the tension building between you, the need to be even closer, but you couldn’t resist playing with him just a little more. You nipped at his lower lip, pulling back slightly to murmur against his mouth, “You’re holding back, Lando. What’s wrong? Afraid you can’t handle a little teasing?”

Your words drew a low, frustrated growl from him, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked at you, the playful spark in your gaze only spurring him on. “Oh, I can handle it,” he replied, his voice a rough whisper, full of promise. And with that, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands grabbing you by the waist as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Your laughter echoed through the kitchen as Lando carried you towards the bedroom, his grip on you firm, yet gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The intensity in his eyes sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as you felt the cool air on your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, and before you knew it, you were on the bed, Lando hovering above you, his hands framing your face as he stared down at you with a mixture of love and raw need. The look in his eyes made your breath catch, the reality of the moment crashing over you. This was real. This was happening.

Lando’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, over your hips, before coming to rest on your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them.

But just as Lando was about to move lower, his lips brushing against the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, but carrying a depth of sincerity that made your heart swell.

“I’m sure, Lando,” you whispered, your voice filled with certainty and affection. “I want this. I want you.”

Lando’s eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if making absolutely certain, before he spoke again, his tone gentle but serious. “I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured into anything. This… this means a lot to me. It’s more than just sex for me.”

Your heart melted at his words, the care and concern in his voice making you fall even more for him. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin as you smiled up at him. “I don’t feel pressured at all. I want this just as much as you do, Lando. It means a lot to me too.”

Relief washed over his features, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, filled with all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. “Thank you,” he whispered against your lips, his hands gently caressing your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing warmly against yours.

With that final confirmation, the last of his restraint melted away. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as Lando’s hands roamed your body with a newfound purpose, exploring every inch of you with reverence and need. His lips moved down your neck, to your chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver with anticipation.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the evidence of his desire only fueling your own. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to your touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, the need for him becoming overwhelming as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you moan softly.

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you arched into him, your body aching with the need for release. “I need you.”

Lando let out a low groan at your words, his hands sliding down to your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as he whispered, “I want to make this perfect for you.”

“It already is,” you whispered back, your voice filled with affection as you cupped his face, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss. “Just make love to me, Lando.”

With a soft, almost reverent sigh, Lando pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he slowly, gently, entered you. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and emotion that made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he filled you completely.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you both adjust to the new, intimate connection. The feeling of him inside you, of being so close, so connected, was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it sending waves of pleasure and emotion crashing over you.

He began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a tenderness that took your breath away. Every movement, every touch was filled with love, with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with affection for him.

You could feel the tension building again, the pleasure mounting with every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours. Lando’s hands roamed your body, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, as he whispered sweet, breathless praises in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with love and desire. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Lando,” you gasped, your voice trembling with emotion as you clutched at him, your body moving in sync with his. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the raw truth of your feelings finally breaking free. Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, his movements slowing for a moment as he stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. The words hung in the air between you, a promise, a declaration that made your heart swell with happiness.

With those words still echoing in the air, Lando’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you held onto him, your body trembling with the need for release.

Lando’s breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough and filled with desperation as he whispered, “Come for me, love. I want to feel you.”

His words, the way he moved inside you with such passion and tenderness, was enough to send you over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your breathless moans filling the room as you came undone in his arms.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the way you cried out his name in pure ecstasy, was enough to push Lando over the edge with you. With a few more deep, urgent thrusts, he followed you into bliss, his body trembling as he found his release, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing of two people who had just found something they had both been longing for. Lando collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You held him close, your fingers running through his hair as you both came down from the high, your bodies still entwined, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“I love you,” Lando whispered again, his voice soft and filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your heart swelling with happiness as you held him close, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the warmth of his body against yours, the contentment that filled you both as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of the most intense, passionate, and loving moment you had ever shared.

Masterlist | Promptlist (requests are still open)

[caramelkoo]

honeysuckle

boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut

summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.

warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.

a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo

"Oh yeah baby, just like that"

"You fuck me so good"

'Take my cock like a good slut you are"

Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.

Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.

Step 1 : take an everything shower

Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background

Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.

Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.

Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.

You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.

Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.

Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.

Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.

If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?

After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.

As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".

Spoilsport, your ass.

Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.

The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.

When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.

You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"

When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.

"What's with the song, sweetheart?"

"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"

After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.

You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"

"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.

"What was that?"

"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.

"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.

Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"

Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.

"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.

Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"

Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.

"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"

Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.

Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.

Him.

Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.

When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?

With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.

Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?

"So, how was the business trip?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"

You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.

"Jungkook"

"Come here"

"Wh-"

He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'

You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.

Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.

His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.

"How long did you say they were going at it?"

You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"

He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.

"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"

Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?

"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"

The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.

"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.

She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.

His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.

"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"

The sound that leaves her is filled with need.

"Jungkook, baby please."

He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.

Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.

His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.

Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.

"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.

His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.

Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"

Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.

She screams.

"That's my girl"

He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.

"You want it faster, sweetheart?"

"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"

Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.

"Oh my fucking god"

"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"

He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.

She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.

When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.

"Aghh"

It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.

When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.

"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"

Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"

"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.

At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.

He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"

He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.

"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.

"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.

Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.

"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.

"I love you"

"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.

Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.

Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.

Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.

He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.

The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.

"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.

Thrust Thrust Thrust

As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.

"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"

Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.

He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.

A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"

"That was…" you bite your lip.

"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.

his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"

"One more?"

"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"

He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.

Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.

"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,

"So warm"

Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.

His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.

So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.

Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"

When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.

He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"

Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"

So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.

Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.

"I fucking love this body of yours"

She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.

Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.

"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"

He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.

He hopes.

[fumiliar]

self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.

your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.

"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.

kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.

"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.

"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.

"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"

"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.

"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.

"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.

"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.

"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.

"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.

"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.

restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.

"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.

"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.

"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.

"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.

"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.

"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.

"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.

"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.

"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."

kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.

"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[gojoidyll]

stubborn heart ch. 5

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

previous | next

You found yourself tossing and turning in the bed. Your body eventually landed on your side as you could only find yourself staring at the side of Capitano’s face. At least one of you could sleep next to a total stranger. Then again, you doubted that Capitano would be afraid to sleep next to anyone. To you, he had no equal when it came to other humans. Sighing to yourself for what seemed to be the millionth time, you turned over to your side and gently reached for your nightstand where one of your old favorite books laid.

Then, turning a small knob on the gas lamp, a light flickered before igniting creating a small flame. Looking to Capitano to see if he woke up, you were glad that he didn’t. So you smiled slightly and turned back to the lamp while also opening your book.

Back at the Hearth, you did this plenty of times. You would always light a lamp with a small enough fire to be able to read in, then you would huddle up into your covers and delve deep into the fictional world that managed to paint itself across the pages.

It was the only way that you could put your heart and mind at ease so you could fall asleep. It also helped when the nights were too cold, or when your stomach was too empty, or when your hands would bleed or when tears would dry.

A good book was a good book.

And just as you were about to turn the page, you felt the bed shift on your right.

“What are you reading?”

It was odd how quiet his voice was in the night. It wasn’t soft per se, but it wasn’t his usual harsh tone either. Maybe he’s sleep talking?

“Wife.”

Ahhh, never mind. There is that demanding tone of his.

“It’s one of my books that was brought from the Hearth. It’s about a princess who…,” you trailed off. You were not exactly sure if Capitano wanted the full details of what you were reading.

“Go on. What is it about?”

He just keeps surprising you.

“It’s about a princess who falls in love with a knight. But she isn’t supposed to because her parents tell her that she is already betrothed to a prince in a faraway land.”

“You said it was one of the books from the Hearth, did you read it a lot?”

“I have.”

There was a brief silence before he spoke up again, “what happens next?”

You wondered if his question was genuine, but you decided to ignore the thought as you turned towards him and noticed how he was also sitting up in his bed, giving you his full attention.

“The princess ends up being sent to the faraway prince, but at her request she is allowed to take one guard, And that guard ends up being the knight she falls in love with. To her, as she lives in her new home and prepares herself to be married to the prince, she thinks she will be able to live happily as long as her love was right by her side. But… she realizes it to be impossible. She ends up sad over everything that even her knight can’t cheer her up. And the prince doesn’t like how sad she looks. He only wanted her for her beauty and the radiant smile she was known well for. Tired with how he can’t get her to smile as beautifully as he wants, he plans to kill her and dispose of her and find a new bride who he could call beautiful. The knight, learning of this plot, cuts down the prince with one strike and takes the princess away to live peacefully in a small, unknown village.”

“Does the princess smile again?”

“She does.”

Capitano “hmmed” in response before holding out his hand, your eyebrows scrunched together at the gesture before it finally clicked.

You handed the book to him, and he opened it to the first chapter.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I am going to read to you.”

Huh?

“I have been told that doing things together can make a relationship go smoother.”

“And that includes reading to me?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion.

“If it must.”

With how he was waiting for you to get comfortable, the hold on the book, and how he was scanning the page, it was clear that you weren’t going to read on your own. So, you laid back, your head hitting the too soft pillows as you pulled the covers more up to your chin.

Capitano looked at you briefly before looking back to the book.

“The world will only turn when she smiles…”

Out of all the things that have happened to you in the past two days, this would most definitely take the cake.

Though, your thoughts soon ceased as Capitano’s voice lulled you to sleep. One chapter became two, and two chapters became three. And before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

Sensing your breath evening out, Capitano closed the book and got out of bed to walk over to your side to turn off the lamp before going back to his side. Then, getting under the covers once more, he looked to you who was finally fast asleep.

“Books, huh?”

The next morning, just as Capitano had said, he was nowhere to be found. His side of the bed has long gone cold and the book he had been reading to you the night before rested gently on his nightstand, under it was a note. A slip of paper that peeked out just from under the book. Frowning at it, you flopped across the bed and stretched. Your arms reaching out as your fingers managed to snag against the slip of paper and gently pulled it out.

Quickly unfolding the note, you read through it quickly.

“Wife,

There is a library within the manor, but no books occupy it. I have left mora for you on the kitchen table. Feel free to go to town to buy as many books as you wish and fill the library to your heart’s content. Take your maid with you when you go out.

We will see each other again in two to three weeks. I expect you to hold true to our marriage despite not consummating it as I will do the same.

If you run out of mora for your books, go to the bank. Your name is attached to mine, so my mora is yours. Before you decline, do know that I do nothing with it. The mora merely sits there collecting dust. Put it to use.

-Capitano”

You found yourself rolling onto your back and rereading through the letter over and over again. It wasn’t romantic and it honestly felt like he was ordering you rather than offering a suggestion. And despite it being a simple note, it still had that authoritative tone and intimidating aura in it. Honestly, you wondered what an official letter from Capitano would be like. Like what it be if he was writing down orders or writing down a punishment?

You shivered at the thought as you rolled to the side of the bed and moved to sit on the edge of it. Your feet lightly kicked back in forth as you reached for your nightstand drawer and opened it before slipping the note inside and closing it right back up.

“I wonder what books I am going to get today!”

taglist

@nas-ha @simp-simp-no-mi @emmathecouchpotato4583 @sendria @riotakire @littlekohai77 @lvtuss @kreishin @floffytofu @nastylilcvnt @mikoslightnovels @feral-childs-word @barbatoss-bitch @venicecherryblossom @squirrelboxer @temperamentupgrade @avalordream @immahuman @xavlyzn @greensunflowerjuna @sarah22447 @naviabestgiirl @nevermoresworld @depressedbearblogs @ppancakesforu @0vendettaself

some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)

Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol

Warnings: angst galore!

Word count: 2,801

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.

The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.

A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”

You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.

“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”

“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”

You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.

“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.

The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.

~

The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.

"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"

You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"

Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."

Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."

His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.

"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.

Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.

"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.

"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.

"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"

His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.

“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"

You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.

"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.

"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.

For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.

Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."

Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.

"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.

You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.

His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.

Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.

You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.

[thedensworld]

The Moves | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: Suggestive, humour

Summary: Here's the plan, get you on the bed.

Title number 50!

Mingyu had been restless these past few days. He missed you, and all he could do was stare at his phone, waiting for any sign of life from you. Mingyu had never been the type to get desperate. In fact, he's always been a man full of ego and pride. But ever since you came into his life, all of that had been tossed in the bin. Now, you were the priority.

Sure, Mingyu could have just bought a ticket, hopped on the next flight, and come straight to you. But he knows you too well—he knows you’d hate that, and that’s exactly why he’s been so restless ever since you left for that business trip.

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table, his thumb idly scrolling through articles to distract himself. One caught his eye: "5 Moves That Will Have Women on Their Knees." He snorted, amused. Mingyu did love seeing you on your knees, but honestly, he'd probably be the one on his knees for you. Either way, it worked out.

As he kept reading, ideas started forming in his mind. Maybe he could surprise you when you got back, do these five things and drive you wild:

1. A strong-Proximity stare after a hug or kiss

2. Gentle touch at the right moment

3. Whisper sweet, sultry compliments—mostly about how irresistible you look, of course.

4. Pin your hands above your head and take his time with you during make out.

5. Lock eyes during… well, you know.

He chuckled to himself. Okay, maybe this was making him sound like a total perv, or a man with a serious sensual streak, but he couldn't help it. It’s been a week since he last touched you, and all the conversations between you had been through texts, calls, or video chats—if you weren’t swamped with work. And he'd be lying if he said he didn’t miss you in bed.

With a heavy sigh, Mingyu leaned back on the couch. He had to admit it—he was a desperate man now. Desperate for you.

A notification from his phone caught Mingyu’s attention immediately. He glanced down and saw it was your message, letting him know you had arrived safely in South Korea and were on your way home with your manager. A wave of relief washed over him, and without thinking, he kicked the air in excitement before quickly typing back, "See you soon, my love."

He didn’t waste another second—he headed straight to the shower, the anticipation of seeing you building with each passing minute.

An hour later, Mingyu stood by the curb, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying his hardest to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. Your manager was still there, after all. But the second you stepped out of the car, his heart leaped. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, and everything in him screamed to close the distance between you.

He busied himself with your luggage, exchanging polite goodbyes with your manager, before finally following you into the house. Once the door clicked shut behind him, he set your luggage down near the entryway.

"Hi. How are you?" You asked softly, turning to him as you peeled off your jacket and tossed it onto the nearby chair. Your eyes, though tired, softened as you opened your arms.

Mingyu didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and embraced you tightly, as if afraid to let go. God, he missed this. He missed your warmth, your familiar scent, the way you fit perfectly in his arms. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo, and felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. Your hugs weren’t just comforting; they were his sanctuary, a place where all his worries seemed to melt away.

"I missed you so much," you whispered against his chest, voice laced with exhaustion. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring back, "I missed you like crazy. I wanted to hop on a flight to LA so badly."

You let out a small chuckle, though he could feel the weight of your weariness. "How was the shooting?" he asked gently, his arms still wrapped around you, unwilling to let go just yet.

You shook your head slowly, the frustration clear without needing words. Mingyu's heart clenched at the sight of your exhaustion. He tightened his hold, his other hand coming up to rub soothing circles on your back. "It's okay, love," he said softly. "You can tell me all about it when you're ready."

You pulled him even closer, as though you wanted to meld your bodies together, to make up for every second of distance between you over the past days. Mingyu could feel how much you needed this closeness, the way you trembled slightly against him, and it only made him want to shield you from everything.

"Later," you whispered, your voice small and tired. He kissed your forehead, a silent promise of understanding. "Take your time," he said gently.

Mingyu held you a little longer, savoring the moment, thankful that you were finally home. Nothing else mattered as long as you were there, in his arms, where you belonged.

*

Mingyu sat at the dining table, a soft smile tugging at his lips as his eyes followed your every movement in the kitchen. It had been a while since he’d seen you in your element, confidently moving around and preparing a meal. Watching you cook brought back memories of all the times he’d admired your skill, but more than that, it reminded him how much he loved savoring the food you made with such care. There was something so intimate, so comforting, in the simple act of seeing you master the kitchen.

You came over with two plates in hand, setting one in front of him with a quick peck on his cheek—the sweetest finishing touch. Mingyu grinned, feeling warmth spread through him. Tonight’s dinner was pasta, and he was more than ready to devour it.

"Thanks for the food," he said, his eyes sparkling as he dug in.

After dinner, you settled on the couch, your eyes fixed on the TV as a Western drama played on the screen. Mingyu, however, couldn’t bring himself to focus on the show. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, admiring the way the soft light from the screen illuminated your face. He had missed this—missed you. It wasn’t just your presence he craved, but the small, quiet moments like this when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you.

You turned your head, feeling his gaze, and gave him a curious look. "Why are you watching me?" you asked, a hint of worry in your voice. "Is something wrong?"

Mingyu sighed, feeling a flicker of guilt for making you worry. He shook his head, rubbing his face as he mumbled, "I just missed you."

"You missed me?" You raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your eyes at his sudden confession.

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, feeling a slight heat rise to his cheeks. "Yes," he admitted, more confidently this time, though the blush deepened.

You stood up from your spot beside him and without a word, moved to sit on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace, your love and affection evident in every movement. Mingyu’s hands instinctively found their place around your waist, as if they had always belonged there. It was second nature now, this closeness, this comfort. Every time you were alone with him, it seemed like you always ended up in his arms, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He held you tight, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back, while you rested your head against his chest. For a moment, neither of you said anything, content to just exist in the peaceful silence, the unspoken love between you filling the room.

Is it time to make a move? Mingyu thought, his pulse quickening as he gazed at you.

You pulled back slightly, but Mingyu’s hands remained firmly on your waist, keeping you seated on his lap. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with adoration, but beneath that was a simmering desire.

Number one: a strong, lingering stare after a hug or kiss.

You smiled at him, your hands gently cupping his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Mingyu leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth of your hands. His fingers began to explore the contours of your body, tracing familiar lines as he slowly leaned in for a kiss.

Number two: a gentle touch at the right moment.

His lips met yours, soft at first, but as the kiss deepened, his hands moved with more purpose. He pulled away from your mouth just long enough to pepper your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, each one sending shivers through you. His mouth hovered near your ear, nibbling lightly before he whispered in a low, breathy voice, "You look so beautiful… it’s almost painful."

His fingers deftly began to unbutton your pajama top as he murmured, "I just want to make you feel good," his voice raspy and filled with desire.

Number three: whisper sweet, sultry compliments.

The kiss grew more heated, more urgent, as Mingyu lowered you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours. Your hands found their way under his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his toned skin, igniting the passion between you. The tension was palpable, each kiss more intense than the last. Without warning, he gently took your hands from his body and pinned them above your head, holding you in place. He paused, breaking the kiss just long enough to gaze down at you. His breath caught as he admired how breathtaking you looked, flushed and beautiful beneath him.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity and longing, before claiming your lips again.

Number four: pin her hands above her head and take his time during the make-out.

Everything was building to this moment, but Mingyu was patient, savoring every touch, every kiss. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, and as he hovered above you, he realized he was falling deeper in love with by every second.

The final move? It was just about a matter of time.

Mingyu took his time with you, showering you with compliments about your body and the effect you had on him every time you were together. He sighed in pleasure when your hand found his, loving how you made him feel.

"Babe..." you mumbled, but Mingyu couldn’t care less. He was too busy exploring your mouth and savoring your softness.

Then you dropped a bombshell. "I'm on my period."

Mingyu froze, a stunned silence enveloping the room for what felt like an eternity. "Seriously?" he finally asked, disbelief etched on his face. You nodded, heat rushing to your cheeks from the embarrassment of your confession.

He buried his head in your shoulder, laughter bubbling up. What kind of comedy was this? He had been mentally counting the moves he’d read about in that article, "5 Moves to Make Women on Their Knees." But how could he attempt the fifth one when you two had agreed never to go there while you were on your period?

With a heavy sigh, Mingyu shifted away from you, sitting up and leaving you still lying on the couch. "I’m sorry... I just couldn't control it. I really miss you," he said, frustration creasing his brow as he rubbed his face.

"No, don’t be sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I should have told you sooner," you replied, squatting in front of him and gently pulling his hands away from his beautiful face.

He sighed again, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as if he found the situation amusing. "Why are you smiling?" you asked, genuinely puzzled.

Mingyu shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "I’m still hard," he whispered, resting his head back on your shoulder.

What you said next took him by surprise. "Want me to take care of it?"

He couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t need to deploy any of the five moves to get you on your knees. All the embarrassment and longing suddenly felt worth it. Mingyu's heart raced at the thought, and he couldn't help but grin. This was turning into an unexpected night, and he was all in.

He's glas he's married to you.

[lxvsiick]

CUTE PIZZA DELIVERY BOY | KIM LEEHAN X READER

PAIRING: pizza delivery boy! kim leehan x fem! reader

SUMMARY: To thank her friends for helping her move in, Y/n orders them a pizza, not expecting the pizza delivery boy to be super cute -- or in which Leehan fights with his coworker to deliver pizza to Y/n.

GENRE: imagine, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

A/N: honestly this isn't my best work :( i wanted to write more but my head is kinda killing me right now and i have to study for 2 midterms :/ anyways, i know nothing about RIIZE but i like anton so is this a sign to get into RIIZE ??

Boxes scattered across the floor, bubble wrap littering every surface, and the scent of new beginnings filled the air in Y/n’s brand-new apartment. Her friends bustled about, helping her organize and unpack her things. Laughter echoed through the space as they joked about where things should go and reminisced about their last get-together. To thank them for their help, she had ordered pizza—a classic move when no one had the energy left to cook.

“Should be here soon,” she said, checking the time on her phone. “Thirty minutes, they said.”

As time ticked closer, the doorbell rang, startling her from where she was stacking dishes in the cupboard. She glanced at her friends. "I'll get it!"

She hurried to the door, wiping her hands on her jeans before opening it. The moment the door swung open, her breath caught. Standing there was the delivery boy—blonde hair tousled perfectly, big brown doe eyes, and a casual, friendly smile playing on his lips. He wore the typical pizza uniform, but something about him felt... different. He was absolutely beautiful.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at him, her mind drawing a blank. Was this real? Was a guy this cute really delivering her pizza?

“Uh… the total comes to $25.50,” the delivery boy said, his voice snapping her back to reality.

“Oh! Right. Sorry!” she stammered, fumbling into her pocket to grab the money. Her fingers shook slightly as she counted the bills, still thrown off by how utterly gorgeous he was. After what felt like an eternity, she handed him the money.

He smiled warmly, clearly amused by her nervousness but in a sweet, nonjudgmental way. “Thanks for ordering with us! Hope you enjoy it,” he said, his voice kind and light. His smile widened just a bit, giving her a cute, almost shy wave as he turned to leave.

She couldn’t help but watch as he walked away, disappearing around the corner of the hallway. It was only once the door clicked shut behind her that she realized she had been holding her breath. She stood there for a second, pizza in hand, feeling her heart beat just a little faster.

“Everything okay?” Yoon called from the living room.

With a shake of her head, she snapped out of it and walked back to the group, setting the pizza boxes down on the coffee table.

“So…” she started, her voice still a little flustered. “The delivery guy was really cute.”

Her friends immediately perked up, eyes widening. “Wait, what? Cute how? Like, movie star cute or cute cute?” J asked.

“Like, blonde-haired, brown doe eyes, I-thought-I-was-dreaming cute,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly as she thought back to his smile.

They burst out laughing, teasing her as they grabbed slices of pizza. “You should’ve gotten his number,” Wonyoung teased.

She shrugged, but the blush on her face gave away that the thought had crossed her mind. Maybe next time, if she was lucky, the same delivery boy would show up.

For now, she tried to focus on her friends and their excitement over the pizza, but her mind kept wandering back to the way the boy had smiled at her—like maybe he had noticed her staring but hadn’t minded at all.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

The soft hum of her phone filled the cozy living room as Y/n scrolled aimlessly through social media. The low lighting from the nearby lamp cast a warm glow on the walls, and the sound of faint music played in the background, but her mind wasn’t really on any of it.

Instead, she kept thinking about him. The cute pizza delivery guy from a few days ago. His tousled blonde hair, the way he’d smiled at her—it kept replaying in her mind. It was silly, really. She had only seen him for a few minutes, but there was something about that moment that stuck with her. Maybe it was the way he had caught her off guard with his unexpected charm. Or maybe it was just the fact that he seemed so sweet.

Her stomach suddenly growled, breaking through her thoughts. With a sigh, she glanced at the time. It was getting late, and she had no energy to cook. A smirk crossed her face as an idea popped into her head. Pizza. Again. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky.

Without hesitating, she picked up her phone and ordered a pizza from the same place as last time. She felt a small rush of excitement—though she wouldn’t admit it—as she tapped ‘confirm order’ and set the phone aside.

Time passed slowly as she lounged on the couch, trying not to get her hopes up. He probably won’t be the one delivering it, she thought, trying to keep herself grounded. It could be anyone.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat, and she jumped off the couch, quickly making her way to the door. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath before swinging it open.

There he was. Leehan, the blonde pizza delivery guy, stood there, holding the pizza box with the same charming smile that had left her flustered last time.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and familiar. “Good to see you again.”

Her heart fluttered. She suddenly felt shy, her cheeks heating up as she met his gaze. Why am I acting like this? she thought, trying to compose herself. “H-hi,” she stammered, trying to smile back. “It’s good to see you too.”

He handed her the pizza, and she handed him the money. Their fingers brushed slightly, and she couldn’t help but feel a little spark. She quickly pulled her hand away, pretending to look at the pizza box so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“So, ordering pizza again, huh?” he teased lightly, his tone playful.

She laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… I guess I’m just too lazy to cook.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said with a grin. “Pizza’s always a good choice.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them stretching, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She wanted to say more, ask him something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just smiled, feeling her heart race in her chest.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, “I better get going. Enjoy your pizza.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes lingering on her before he turned to leave. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied softly, watching him as he walked down the hallway.

As the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she headed back to the couch, pizza in hand. Something told her this wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

It had been a few days since Y/n had ordered pizza, and once again, her laziness got the best of her. She scrolled through her phone, contemplating what to eat, and in the end, her craving won. She ordered pizza from the same place, as she secretly hoped Leehan would be the one delivering it again.

As she waited, her mind wandered back to their last interaction. The way he smiled at her, how casual but sweet their conversation was. Her heart fluttered just thinking about it. Could he really be interested in me? she wondered, though she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts. Her heart raced with excitement, and she practically jumped off the couch. But as she approached the door, she noticed something odd—there were multiple hushed voices behind it. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, curiosity piqued. What’s going on?

She opened the door, and to her surprise, there stood Leehan holding a pizza box with a nervous smile on his face. Behind him, five of his coworkers—who clearly weren’t trying hard to hide their grins—stood bunched together like they were witnessing the most exciting thing to ever happen. The whole scene was unexpected, to say the least.

"Uh… hey," he said, laughing nervously. "So... this is a bit awkward."

Her eyes widened in surprise, still taking in the sight of him and his grinning entourage. "What's... going on?"

With a sheepish chuckle, Leehan lifted the pizza box and slowly opened it, revealing a pizza in the shape of a rose. The crust curled up in delicate petals, and she couldn’t help but smile at the creativity. It was adorable, and it was then that she realized this wasn’t just any pizza delivery.

"I, uh... I thought you were cute the first time I delivered to your place," he admitted, looking more and more embarrassed as he went on. "I was planning to ask you out tonight, but while I was making the pizza, these five idiots," he gestured toward his coworkers, "got nosy and insisted on coming along. So, here we are."

His friends gave an encouraging thumbs-up from behind him, clearly enjoying the whole situation.

She laughed, the tension in the air dissolving. "Are you serious? You made a pizza rose?" She couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. "And brought your entire fan club with you?"

Leehan rubbed the back of his neck, his smile growing. "Yeah... I guess I did. But, uh, if you think it's too weird, you can just pretend this never happened."

Still smiling, she glanced at the pizza and then back at him, warmth spreading through her chest. "No, I don’t think it’s weird at all. In fact, it’s kind of cute."

He exhaled, clearly relieved by her response. "So... does that mean you'll accept my pizza rose and, uh, maybe my confession too?"

She giggled, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming her. "How could I say no to a pizza rose?"

His friends erupted into quiet cheers behind him, and he gave her a genuine smile, stepping closer to hand over the pizza box.

“Then... maybe we can go out sometime? Without the peanut gallery?” he asked, shooting a playful glare at his friends, who were still buzzing with excitement.

"I’d love that," she said, taking the pizza rose from him. "But seriously, next time, lose the backup dancers."

They both laughed, and as she stood there with the pizza in her hands and a flutter in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something wonderful.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

FLASHBACK 

The pizza place was bustling, as usual, with orders coming in left and right. Leehan was wiping down the counter when one of his friends and coworkers, Taesan, glanced at the screen and smirked.

"Yo, another order from Y/n’s place," Taesan said, casually pointing to the order ticket.

Immediately, Leehan’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her name. He’d been waiting for this. It was the same excitement he felt every time she ordered pizza, knowing he might get the chance to see her again. Before he could react, though, Jaehyun chimed in.

"I’ll take this one," Jaehyun said, stepping forward as if he was already claiming the delivery. "Might as well give her a little variety, y'know?"

Leehan immediately stood up from the counter, frowning. "Whoa, hold on. What do you mean you’ll take it?"

Jaehyun grinned, enjoying this far too much. "She sees your face all the time, Leehannie. Maybe she needs a break from the usual."

Leehan shot him a glare, stepping closer. "No way. I’m delivering this one."

Taesan leaned against the counter, clearly entertained. "What’s the big deal? It’s just a delivery."

Leehan felt the heat rising in his cheeks but kept his cool. "Yeah, but—"

Jaehyun cut him off with a smirk. "Oh, come on. Admit it, man. You just want to see that cute girl again. What’s her name? Y/n, right?"

The rest of their coworkers nearby started to perk up, sensing the brewing argument. Riwoo let out a low whistle, fully aware of the crush Leehan had developed on the pizza-loving girl.

Leehan crossed his arms. "And what if I do?"

Jaehyun’s smirk widened. "Then maybe I should deliver it and, y'know, ask her out for you. Save you the trouble."

"Oh, no way." Leehan narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me." Jaehyun grabbed the delivery bag, making a move toward the door.

Without thinking, Leehan lunged forward, blocking him. "Over my dead body."

Taesan, now thoroughly enjoying the show, chuckled. "Wow, this is really happening, huh? Fighting over a pizza delivery. I’ve seen it all now."

At this point, half the staff was watching, holding back laughter as the two friends faced off like it was the battle of the century.

"Seriously, man. I got this," Leehan insisted, his voice rising in intensity. "I’ve been delivering to her every time. She knows me. I can't break the streak."

Jaehyun folded his arms, tilting his head. "Or maybe you’re just chicken."

That did it.

"Chicken?!" Leehan exclaimed. "You know what? Fine. Let’s settle this." He motioned dramatically to the pizza oven. "Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three."

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help grinning. "You’re on."

The crowd of employees grew, forming a loose circle around them, eager to witness the showdown.

"On three," Leehan said, both of them raising their fists.

"One, two, three—" they called out in unison.

The first round went to Leehan with rock over scissors. The second round went to Jaehyun with paper over rock. By the third round, the tension was palpable, coworkers holding their breath.

"One, two, three—"

Leehan threw scissors.

Jaehyun threw paper.

The room erupted in cheers and groans as Leehan pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. "Yes!"

Jaehyun let out a defeated sigh but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. "Fine, fine. The pizza’s yours, Romeo."

Leehan grabbed the delivery bag with a grin, already imagining seeing Y/n again. "You bet it is."

As he headed toward the door, he heard Taesan call after him, "Good luck, man. Don’t screw it up!"

With a final glance over his shoulder, Leehan smirked. "I got this."

And with that, he walked out the door, ready for his next chance with the girl who unknowingly had him wrapped around her finger.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[luveline]

What about sharing a bed with roommate James Potter after a nightmare? The comfort and yearning would be everything

He can hear your harsh breathing before he sees you. You raise your hand to knock his door and realise it’s open, but James is already up and walking toward you. 

“James–”

“What? What’s wrong?” He ducks his head a touch to meet your gaze. “Woah, seriously.” 

“I had a dream that somebody was in my room.” 

He cringes. You’ve grown to be more than roommates, and even if he didn’t consider himself your friend he wouldn’t like to see you panicking. “There’s nobody in there,” he promises, giving you half a hug. He looks over your shoulder just in case, and then steps back. “You want me to check?” 

“No… I don’t know, I don’t think there’s someone in there, just–” You choke on half a breath. “Sorry, it freaked me out.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says softly. It’s harder at night to be bubbly. Harder to conceal bone deep, gentle affection for you. “Come on, you can sleep with me tonight.” 

He encourages you with an arm deeper into the room, shoving his book aside to make room for you where he’d been laying. He shuffles across the bed. “You can turn off the lamp if you want, I don’t mind.” 

You climb into bed next to him. You don’t turn off the light. He’s surprised when you lay down in the pillow where his head was moments ago and turn away from the door, but he hides it and follows your lead. 

You’re almost nose to nose. 

“I can go check, if you want me to. It doesn’t bother me,” he says quietly. 

“I know it was just a dream.” 

“But it rattled you,” he says, looking up and down your face slowly, carefully. 

James will confess to himself that he finds you beautiful, will feel no shame as his gaze trips lazily over your lips, your nose, and your tired eyes. He doesn’t even feel bad when he gives in to temptation and holds your arm, though that’s less to do with liking you and more to do with the way you relax at his touch. 

“Can’t remember the last time I had such a bad dream,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, alright? I’m here, n’ I’m not about to let somebody come near you.” 

“I woke up and I didn’t even look to see if it was true. I wigged.”

“You wigged,” he repeats, smiling gently. 

“Completely.” 

“Well, you’re allowed to wig every once in a while.” He snorts at your word choice. “But it’s alright. I can put the telly on, if you want?” 

You shake your head, pushing across the bed to be closer to him. You tilt your face down, murmuring, “You can put it on. I won’t watch much of it.” 

“I don’t have to put it on,” he murmurs back, voice turned to loving silk, “I just want you to feel safe.” 

“I feel safe.” 

James is glad for your closed eyes. He smiles like a fool, how awesome to get to be that safety for you. “Okay,” he says, pulling the blankets up to both your chins, his hand dropping lazily over your shoulder, “I have you.” 

[astars-things]

Pls can I request for lukey: reader gets overwhelmed after meeting Luke’s family with “ you never need to apologise to me. ever. and certainly not for crying… ” 🙏

(I can relate to this)

I stood in the mirror, double-checking my outfit, hair and makeup. "Honey you look perfect" Luke said wrapping his arms around me,

“Are you sure?” I asked, tugging on the fabric again. “I just want everything to go well.”

Luke chuckled gently pulling my hands away from the dress and holding them in his. “Y/N, they’re going to love you. I love you, and trust me, they’ll see everything I see.”

His words made me feel a little better, and I squeezed his hand. “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

The drive to the Hughes’ family home was short but felt like it stretched on for hours. My mind kept spinning with all the things that could go wrong. What if I said something stupid? What if they didn’t like me? What if I just didn’t fit in?

When we arrived, Luke squeezed my hand one more time before leading me inside. The warmth of the house hit me immediately. It smelled like home, a mix of cooking and something sweet, maybe cookies.

“Luke!” a familiar voice called from the kitchen. His mom, Ellen, emerged, wiping her hands on a towel, her face lighting up when she saw him. She immediately enveloped him in a hug before turning to me.

“You must be Y/N,” she said warmly, pulling me into a hug too, catching me off guard. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Good things, I hope,” I said, trying to make my voice sound steady.

“The best things,” she assured me, her smile kind. “Come on, everyone’s in the living room. We’re just about to start dinner.”

We followed her into the living room where Luke’s dad, Jim, and his brothers, Jack and Quinn, were lounging on the couches. Jack immediately sat up, grinning widely.

“So, this is the famous Y/N, huh?” Jack teased, his playful tone instantly putting me at ease. Quinn gave me a nod and a soft smile from his spot, quieter but no less welcoming.

Dinner started out well. Luke’s family was just as close and loving as he’d described. The conversation flowed, filled with teasing, laughter, and stories about the boys’ childhoods. I tried my best to relax, but I could feel my nerves creeping back in, especially when the conversation shifted toward me.

The questions started coming, all of them well-meaning but overwhelming. They asked about my family, my job, my relationship with Luke, and I suddenly felt like I was under a spotlight.

I tried to keep up, answering politely, but my chest felt tight. I could feel the weight of their attention pressing down on me. The noise of the conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warmth of the room suddenly felt too much.

My breath hitched, and I excused myself as casually as I could, slipping out of the room and heading for the front porch. The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, and I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm myself down.

A few minutes later, I heard the door open behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Luke. He came up beside me, leaning against the porch railing in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I wiped a tear that had slipped down my cheek. “I just… I got overwhelmed.”

“Hey, look at me,” Luke said softly, turning to face me. When I met his eyes, they were full of understanding, no judgment. “You never need to apologize to me. Ever. And certainly not for crying.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “But I wanted everything to go well. I wanted them to like me.”

“They do like you,” Luke reassured me, stepping closer and gently pulling me into his arms. “You don’t have to be perfect, Y/N. You just have to be yourself. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

I buried my face into his chest, his warmth and the steady sound of his heartbeat calming me. “Thank you,” I whispered.

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

cw for this chapter: discussion of assault (reader)

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Try as he might, Toji could not escape the sounds of your frightened voice from the night prior. He slept horribly, tossing from his side to his back only to stare up at your ceiling fan. When he finally got up, he busied himself with cleaning the house before your return.

You had told him not to worry about staying past the afternoon, that you expected to be back in time to feed the dog, but Toji insisted on staying. He wanted to see you. More importantly, he wanted to speak to you. There were several things he would have liked to have spoken about, but the one thing weighing on his mind was what had happened the night prior.

Your desperate apologies, your wavering voice. All of it felt so disconcerting.

So Toji stayed.

He stayed and washed the sheets, stayed and made up the bed, stayed and swept the floors.

He was a decisive man. If he wanted to do something? Consider it done. So why? Why was he second-guessing himself when he heard your car pull up the driveway? Why did his heart pound as if he was in some kind of danger? Why did he find himself pacing, looking for something to occupy himself with? All so he didn't seem like he was waiting for you.

But he was, he was waiting for you.

A pause permeated the foyer and kitchen when he heard you open the door and for a moment his throat felt tight, you hadn't seen him yet. His grip on the rag he was "washing dishes" with tightened. He heard a light gasp and spun around. Finally.

"Toji! I didn't realize you were here, I didn't see your car." You spun around to peek out the window, Toji dropped the towel and moved to the island. Closer to you. To observe you. You looked fine.

"Glad you made it back. He's been waiting for you." Toji pointed to the dog that was currently bounding around you in a show of tender love.

You kneeled down and scratched the dog's neck. "Thank you so much for watching him, I know how much he loved your company, but, Toji, how did you get here?"

He smiles, "Took the bus, needed gas." He didn't, he just wanted an excuse to stay. But by the look on your face, this was clearly the wrong response.

"Oh, my- Toji! Oh! You should have said, I would pay for your gas!" You had shot up at his statement and were looking at him with embarrassed disappointment.

"Oh please" He rolled his eyes, "You're plenty generous enough."

"I don't want you riding the bus at night, I'll give you a ride, or I can order you an Uber, like before."

Toji was thinking fast, why were you so keen on his leaving? Was it because you were uncomfortable? Or did you feel like it was a burden for him to stay? Whatever the answer, he was still caught up on the fact that you didn't want him riding the bus. How silly, to worry about his safety.

"Nah, it's no problem, I was staying here regardless." He shrugged.

"Was everything alright? Did you have everything you needed?" You smile at him and he eases a breath, okay, no more talk of leaving.

"Everything and then some. You've got a real nice place." He took a step closer to scratch the dog's ear. "Good trip?"

He didn't want to push. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the curiosity. Especially when he watched your face falling at his question.

"Oh... yes, well" You sighed, shrugged, and avoided eye contact. "Work, you know."

"So..... not a good time." Toji tried for a tone of joviality but your eyes did not brighten.

"No. Wish I could've been here." You spoke so quietly that he could barely hear. He was worried that, within a moment, you would call him a cab, or usher him to your BMW. This was it.

Toji had been hungry for information since your text. It was for no reason other than his experience with law enforcement that he stayed up last night. Thinking about what type of situation you were in.

"Can I ask you a question?" Toji began, your head whipping to his face, nodding slightly, "It's about last night."

He noticed instantly- your eyebrows rose, along with your shoulders. You took a breath in as your chin lifted up. Unaware to you, your arms encircled your torso. You were so easy to read.

You didn't speak though. Toji took the silence once again. "Something happened, while you were away." Not a question, he realized as it came out. Damn, what was he saying? You didn't respond and he scrambled for the right words.

"Did-I mean. Did something happen?" So eloquent.

You sighed, looking at your shoes. Right on cue, your dog whimpered at your feet. "Yeah...' You draw it out, there's humor in your tone. "I didn't want to go on the trip anyway." Sighing, you look up at the ceiling, Toji gets the feeling that you were speaking to yourself.

"Didn't realize you saw a lot of crime in your business." How is it he can hold eye contact so steadily? How is it he can look through to your soul?

"Hmm?" You raise a brow, and then your eyes grow, "Oh! No! No! I don't." He laughs from his chest. The prospect of criminal activity leaves you aghast. "It wasn't a crime! Well..." You begin that mumbling "talking-to-yourself" way of speech, "Not a serious one, I've had problems with him for ages now."

Toji stops. You stop. You said too much.

"Him?" Toji's brows are stitched tightly together. Had he misheard?

"Oh!" You begin, catching his eyes that are glued to you. "It's not serious. If it was I would do something. It's not that!" You huff out, “Not like that…”

But Toji hadn't said anything. He remains silent. Waiting for you to continue. The dog begins to pace. You run a hand through your hair and then wave nonsensically as if to ward off the air around you.

"Who are we talking about." Toji's voice has only once sounded like this. It had sounded this way over the phone that night he carried your dog a mile, drove him to the vet, and silently watched you bandage his hands.

It had sounded like this when he was desperate.

"Aagh!" You shook your head. Dispelling some unhappy thought or memory. "I'm not... really supposed to be speaking about all this. It's been handled." You wave your hands dramatically, making a show of finding the time, you start up again, "Oh goodness, look at the clock, Toji let me get you a ride so you can be home for dinner!"

"I'd like to hear about this actually." He doesn't move. He slowly maneuvers his head to follow your gaze. "Having trouble with a co-worker?"

Toji had his fair share of experiences with unsavory characters in his time working in different industries. They were never too difficult to handle, though.

You laugh painfully, "Unfortunately, yeah, but there's really nothing to do..." Your making "shooing" motions with your hands again, motioning between him and the door.

"That why you didn't wanna go on this trip?" He watches your motion - ignores it.

"Gosh, yes. You know how it goes." Toji hums.

"Police involved?" He watches you. Your hands shiver to a stop, you turn to meet his eyes, suddenly still.

"No." You look at him. "No, it was handled before that."

"But he wasn't fired." His head slants to the left.

"No reason to fire him." You're looking at him differently now. You sound different now. Finite. Tired.

"Well, if police could be involved, there has to be some reason." He looks at you, but you're not speaking. You're not smiling. You're not moving.

"He was the one to make you cry that night." He asks, but it's not a question this time either.

"I think you should go get dinner, Toji." You speak softly, but there is really no room for disagreement allowed.

"There's gotta be something, just tell your boss if you don't wanna work with some dickhead." He's trying to help, he is, but it's coming out all wrong. He doesn't know the situation, and he's never had a real job before, he doesn't know - that even though your position is one of power - although you are high up in a huge conglomerate - although you have a million opportunities in front of you that he's never been offered - although you make real, honest money - some of the most evil people are in those positions as well.

And things that, he, a killer, a prostitute, a gambler, a criminal, could never imagine even in his most dark moments, go on, under the veil of the shiny "opulence" so easily desired.

"He's not just a colleague, Toji." Your sentences are chopped as they leave your lips. Toji realized suddenly that the only reason you're speaking now is because he has obviously made you upset. "He's a stakeholder's son. And everyone loves him. Trust me. I've reported him before. But nothing comes of it. It just." You sigh, detached. "It just makes me look bad. He's popular and charismatic, and everyone thinks he's.... he's the best! So there. He can do what he wants. He can touch who he wants. He can make decisions for everyone else. And there's nothing I can do, actually."

Toji is taken aback, and your dog huffs at your legs, "I'm sorry..." You mutter behind your hands. Likely embarrassed at your lengthy diatribe. But Toji takes no notice of your apology.

"He touched you?" There is something new now, something Toji does understand, and this, this will not happen again, he is sure of it.

"Just briefly. And he was drunk. So what does it matter." Your hands remain in front of your face. A grievously aggravated tone in your voice for the first time.

"It matters all the same. It matters- it matters-" Toji is racing for the right thing to say but he’s never been good with words.

He has experienced being touched when he did not like it. He had experienced allowing somethings to happen for a dollar. But he had never been in the position of being attacked. He had never been the weaker of two people. But you, he cannot image such a feeling. Such a feeling being completely uncontrolled.

And suddenly he's remembering your texts, your jittery voice, your apologies and he wants to puke.

"Why not go to the police. Something must be done. Y/n, please."

"I can't." He bends down to see your sunken face, trying to spot any tears. "What if nothing happens? What if I make a fool of myself? What if- Toji, what if I lose my job?"

Seeing now, the darkness within what he believed to be grandeur, he wonders if you are really any better off than he.

"You won't. Y/n- I, I can do it. I can get this... handled." His mind is flooded with memories, a man, someone who worked for his handler, he was good with technology, good with blackmail. His thoughts were interrupted by a chuckle.

"No-Toji, that can't happen. It just... I don't think that's possible. I'm just." You heave a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said a thing. I think I'm just tired. It's okay."

"No." He's shaking his head. Slow. But you don't hear him. You've closed him off. You've resigned yourself and he wonders, sickeningly, how long you have been resigned for.

That night grew dark faster than either of you knew. You had told him not to think about it. You told him to let it go. But that night, reminded of a similar evening he spent in a car that was paid to bring him back to his apartment. He considered the situation.

When he climbed his way into his dark apartment, he did not hesitate. Measured steps brought him to the ventilation above the stove in his kitchen. He reached up, grabbed the flip phone found there, a burner he knew remained.

He didn't even mull it over before he sent the text.

"Need a favor. Call me."

And he didn't sleep that night until he'd been back in contact with the man he thought he was done working with for good.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[band--psycho]

Zayne x Reader - Doctor Visits

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Warnings: Doctors appointments, brief mentions of a blood test, mature themes towards the end

I do intend to write a Part 2 for this

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“Thank you for checking in,” the receptionist at the hospital said with a polite smile, “Dr Zayne will be with you soon”

Your heart dropped at her words. 

Dr Zayne? 

“I think there must be some mistake?” You stated; trying to understand how you’re seeing Zayne for this appointment when 1) you didn’t book this appointment with him and 2) he was meant to be on holiday; at least that’s what he told you a few days ago when you last spoke to him. 

“The doctor you booked to see is unavailable right now,” the receptionist clarified her focus shifting from the screen she’d been staring at for a few moments. 

Obviously your unease must’ve been written all over your face because the receptionist followed her own words up with, “If you wish to wait until the doctor you originally booked in to see is available we can reschedule your appointment.” 

You wanted to reschedule. 

But you knew that you couldn’t. 

The Hunters Association had very strict rules on keeping up to date with doctors appointments so that medical records could be kept accurate. 

And recently you’d been so busy with missions and studying; that booking the appointment had completely slipped your mind, that was until Tara mentioned it a few days ago.

This was the last day you could have an appointment before you would be overdue on it.

Which although it wasn’t the end of the world, wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. 

But neither was having Zayne as your doctor for this. 

“It’s fine,” you reluctantly said, moving away from the receptionist's desk and taking a seat in the waiting area.

Zayne was your usual primary physician, he was the one that kept a vigilant eye on your heart condition and made sure that your blood pressure and everything else was okay. 

And although this was just a routine doctor's appointment, knowing that Zayne was now going to be asking you private questions and listening to your answers, made you want to run out of the hospital eight that second.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Zayne, you did.

More so than you trusted anyone really. 

And you knew that he would remain professional regardless of your answers.

But the truth was you were embarrassed; embarrassed to admit things that you hadn’t shared with anyone.

Things that you certainly didn’t ever think you’d have to admit to Zayne. 

“Y/n,” a familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts, looking up you saw Yvonne standing in front of you, “Dr Zayne will see you now.”

You nodded briefly, giving her a small smile as you rose to your feet. 

It was like your body was on auto-pilot, and you followed Yvonne straight to Zaynes office. 

The nurse gave you a small nod, signaling that you could go in, before walking away down the hall. 

You took a deep breath; your hand gingerly hovering over the door knob, wondering if you could attempt to make a last minute dash to the exit without anyone seeing.

The opportunity to do so was there, you could go now and no questions would really be asked. 

Except Zayne would know that he was meant to see you today…and if you didn’t show up to your appointment, he’d start asking why. 

And it would mean that you’d have to reschedule it for another day without knowing when the original doctor you booked in with would be free. 

‘The sooner I go in, the sooner it’ll be done’ you thought to yourself, placing your hand on the door handle, pushing the door open and walking into Zaynes office. 

“Y/n/n,” Zaynes stoic voice filled your ears, only raising your already heightened anxiety

‘Just breathe,’ you thought to yourself, turning to look at the doctor sitting behind a desk. 

“Please have a seat,” Zayne continued, extending his hand slightly towards the chair on the other side of his desk. 

You let out a shallow breath, attempting to compose yourself as you sat down in the chair opposite him. 

“I apologise about that change to your appointment,” Zayne began; typing away on the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. 

“It’s okay,” you answered quietly, absentmindedly fidgeting with your hands as they laid in your lap.

“You seem nervous,” Zayne pointed out, glancing up at you over his glasses briefly, before turning his attention back to the computer.

His words made you aware of what your hands were doing; halting your fidgeting movements.

“You don’t need to be, this is just a routine appointment,” he assured you with a small smile; but his words didn’t do much to ease your anxiety. 

~~~~~~

The questions started off normal, like “How have you felt since your last check up?”, “Have you had any new injuries from any recent missions,” etcetera, etcetera, and then they started to get a bit more private, a bit more personal. 

Starting with, “Any irregularities in your menstrual cycle?” 

“No,” you answered back finitely, making Zaynes eyes fall on you once again; but this time, he held your gaze.

He knew that you were lying. 

And you knew that he knew. 

The way in which you answered the question was an obvious giveaway. 

But even without that, you knew Zayne would probably have sussed out that you were lying, he always knew. 

“Y/n, it is key in these appointments for you to be honest with your doctor,” he reminded you softly, urging you to tell him the truth. 

But you knew what your answer could imply; you were a week late, just one week and you knew that it was probably because of stress and exhaustion; not because of any other reason. 

You knew your answer would open a door to more personal questions; but you also knew that you needed to tell Zayne the truth.

“I’m a week late,”

“I see,” he replied, turning back to his computer screen, for a brief moment you saw something in his eyes, a look of…hurt, you watched how his jaw tightened and he continued typing away on his computer, “and when was the last time you were intimate with someone?” 

And there it was, the very question types of questions you were trying to avoid.

You knew what he was implying with his question.

His question was almost laughable, had you not been so embarrassed about the answer you knew you’d have to give, you probably would have laughed.

In truth, you could barely remember the last time you went on a date with someone, let alone the last times you were intimate with someone; and now you had to admit that to the very man who was part of the reason why. 

You liked Zayne, as more than a friend… in all honesty, to you, no one else compared to him. 

So even if you did have the time to date people, or be intimate with them, you wouldn’t because they weren’t Zayne. 

Sometimes, you thought he held the same feelings for you,even though he’d never said anything to give you such an idea. 

It was more in the way you caught him looking at you sometimes…with a look that not only made your heart skip a beat, but a look that made you wonder. 

A look that made you wonder if he felt the same; or if it was just your hopeful heart messing with your mind.

“A year,” you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment fill your cheeks.

It was a year ago, with someone you met in a bar, one thing led to another and you ended up in their bed. 

It was then that you realised how you truly felt for Zayne…because all you could do whilst you were being intimate with them, was imagine Zayne.

After that, you couldn’t bring yourself to try and meet anyone else. 

You didn’t want to. 

Which is why you kept yourself busy with work; it stopped you from being able to think about your own loneliness too much. 

Zayne said nothing in response to your answer; though you did notice his expression seemed to soften as he typed your answer up on your medical record sheet.

A few more questions and a blood test later and your appointment was over and you were following Zayne to the door to his office. 

“I’m going to sign you off for a few days; so you can get some rest,” he said as he put his hand on the handle of the door. 

“Zayne-” you attempted to argue back but he just shook his head, silencing your words, before you could even finish your counter argument. 

“A few days of rest,” He repeated softly, though you knew by the look in his eyes that there was no use arguing with him.

“Understand?” His voice was just above a whisper but it was loud enough to send a small pleasurable shiver throughout your body. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how much of an effect he had on you by just whispering to you like this. 

“Y/n,”

You hated your first name, so you always went by Y/n/n. 

Hearing your full first name was unusual, no one called you it anymore; but it was especially unusual hearing it fall from Zayne's lips; though for some reason your name sounded good on his lips.

“Do you understand?” he asked again

You knew you shouldn’t have found his question as erotic as you did; it was a simple question, but the authority in his voice mixed with the way his eyes were burning into yours, made you feel very hot and tingly all of a sudden. 

You were turned on...

You needed to play it cool, act like you perfectly fine, so you nodded in agreement.

Not daring to trust your voice at this very moment; not when you were this close to each other. 

“Good,” was the last thing he said to you before opening the door, allowing you to walk out of his office.

You'd barely take a few steps away from his door before you heard it click shut behind you; it was only then you released a breath you hadn't been aware of holding as you replayed what just happened in your mind.

He was so close to you...so close...

'Stop it,' you mentally scolded yourself as you began walking down the hallway.

You passed the reception and left the hospital quickly, trying to think about what you were going to do with your now free days, instead of how much you wanted Zayne...

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[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Psychotic! Lee Felix/Love Straved Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"We're done, Felix. I can't do this anymore," you scoffed, tugging your wrist back from his grip. Felix felt his blood boil, "What do you mean, we're done. I can't stay having another break from you just because you don't understand that I hate it when they stare at you, baby. You're mine, my little darling," he growled, glaring at you.

"Not a break, it's over. I'm sick of you being possessive of me. I'm sick of you watching over me. Just leave me alone, we're breaking up," you sniffled as angry tears dripped down your cheeks. Felix's eyes widened, "Baby, you can't do this to me. I'll give you more space. I just hate when people gawk at you like some toy. Darling, you're worth more than that. You're my everything. Please don't leave me," he pleaded, feeling his knees get weak.

You looked away, dragging your suitcase, "I'm sorry," you whispered, closing the front door behind you. Felix held his head in his palm, laughing controllably at the events that just happened, "It's a nightmare. It's all just a nightmare. They'll come back for me. They have to," he babbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wailed.

You curled up in a hotel bed, clutching the plush Felix won you at an arcade. You sighed, "It was for the best, right?" You sniffled, feeling the usual familiarity of loneliness. "It's not like he wouldn't find another. He's handsome, charming. He can easily get another partner that's just like me," you sniffled, your voice cracking as you spoke.

You looked at the plush, staring into its eyes, "This is where I belong," you whispered, crying yourself to sleep. Felix clenched his jaw and stared at the screen, his gaze icy and blank. Tear stains etched into his pale skin, "You can't escape me, darling. I understand where you're coming from though, those stupid ex partners of yours surely implanted those thoughts in your mind, but I'll come after you. I'll show you true affection, I'll teach you. Mark my words," he growled, staring at your sleeping face through the plush he gave.

Weeks went by and the loneliness grew heavier and heavier. It felt like Felix's constant affection was filling up the empty gaps throughout the day. It felt like he was distracting you from the heavy thoughts in your mind. You stared at the plush, "Is he right?" You whispered, stroking the plush. You questioned your decision, pondering if it were the right choice to make or were you just too caught up to escape.

You couldn't tell the difference, "Maybe I should go on a blind date and see how that goes," you murmured, calling a friend to step you up. Felix pressed his tongue against his cheek, "Not on my watch," he grits, eavesdropping on the call and forming his plan. You dressed up nice, it's been a while since your first date with Felix and you know that first impressions matter. You kissed your plush goodbye and left for the venue.

When you walked in, someone was seated at your table. You went up to them, but they were on a call. They gave you a guilty look and apologized. You nodded and waited for their call to end. It was a quick date, one with not many defences, just a smooth sailing date. You exchanged numbers and went to the bathroom. It wasn't like your first date with Felix. His eyes weren't glued to you and his smile was half-hearted.

When you first met Felix he gave you the brightest smile you've ever seen. He made you feel seen. You sighed, filling the bathroom with an odd sense of longing. Felix waited by your car, waiting and lurking for your arrival. He had a cloth drenched in chloroform, ready to kidnap you in your own car. You walked through the parking lot, mind still dazed from the odd longing in your chest, you missed him.

You missed the way he would cheer you up when you're down. You missed the way he would tighten his grip around your waist and bite the back of your nape to claim you. "I miss him," you whispered, holding the hood of your car. Felix shifted his jaw, 'You just met him, and you miss him?' he thought, waiting for the right moment. You sighed, unlocking your door when you felt a cloth over your nose and mouth.

You panicked, thrashing away when you heard a familiar deep voice, "You're mine," he purred, holding the cloth closer. You felt yourself subconsciously relax, knowing that it was Felix that's holding you. He furrowed his eyebrows, subtly questioning why you gave in so quickly, but he paid it no mind. You were in his arms, and that's where you'll stay. Felix placed you in the back seat, bound your ankles and wrist, and taped your mouth.

You stirred awake hours later, your arms bound to the back of the chair and your ankles tied apart. Felix sat in front of you, watching your sleeping body like a drug, "Wakey, wakey," he chuckled, seeing you stir. "Slept well?" he asked, twirling a pair of scissors in his hand. You blinked at him, "Where have you taken me?" You asked, your speech slurring.

Felix chuckled, "Curious, aren't you? We're in my relatives' cabin house, in the middle of nowhere, darling. Even if you run, I know these acres better than you," he warned, holding the knife to your throat. "Tell me, was all our love for nothing? I just want you to love me like I love you," he pleaded, tears dripping down his cheeks. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him with wavering eyes.

Felix threw the scissor aside, "Answer me, Godamnit!" He lashed, gripping the chair behind you. "I don't know! I don't know what love is, Lix," you sobbed, hunching over. Felix felt his breath hitch at the nickname, "I know you don't, darling. That's why I've been showing you. I didn't mean to overwhelm you," he said, wiping your tears.

You leaned into his palm, "Teach me? I can learn to be as lovesick as you. Please, I want to love like you," you sniffled, looking at him. Felix took in a deep inhale, "Okay, precious. You'll see the way I'm obsessed with you," he whispered, patting your cheek.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Fuck, you're so tight," Felix groaned, his hands tied behind your back and his ankles tied apart. You held a knife to his throat and rode his hot girthy cock, "Can't, can't," you moaned, trying to ease down to the hilt. Felix groaned, digging his nails into his fist, "Yes you can, darling. You can ride my cock without my help," he hissed, feeling your slicked tight walls clench around his cockhead.

You sniffled, bouncing your hips up and down his cock, barely taking half of his length up your puffy cunt. Felix chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "See precious. This is how you depend on me. This is how you let me take care of you," he said, removing his hands from behind, easily undoing the rope as he took the knife away from you. "Now let me help, yeah?" He said, thrusting his hips upwards with your bounces.

He held your waist tight as he buried his cock deep within your cunt. You cried into his shoulder, the stretch dulling your mind from the sheer pleasure and pain coating your senses. Felix kissed your shoulders, "There we go mmh down to the fucking hilt," he chuckled, kissing up your neck. You clawed his back, "Please make love to me?" You pleaded, looking into his eyes with a pitiful gaze. Felix smiled, kissing your cheek, "Of course, my darling. We have all night for this," he said, thrusting his hips at a languid and lazy pace. Taking his sweet time to engrain this moment into your heart.

AMAB

"Fuck, you're so tight," Felix groaned, his hands tied behind your back and his ankles tied apart. You held a knife to his throat and rode his hot girthy cock, "Can't, can't," you moaned, trying to ease down to the hilt. Felix groaned, digging his nails into his fist, "Yes you can, darling. You can ride my cock without my help," he hissed, feeling your slicked tight walls clench around his cockhead.

You sniffled, bouncing your hips up and down his cock, barely taking half of his length up your puffy hole. Felix chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "See precious. This is how you depend on me. This is how you let me take care of you," he said, removing his hands from behind, easily undoing the rope as he took the knife away from you. "Now let me help, yeah?" He said, thrusting his hips upwards with your bounces.

He held your waist tight as he buried his cock deep within your hole. You cried into his shoulder, the stretch dulling your mind from the sheer pleasure and pain coating your senses. Felix kissed your shoulders, "There we go mmh down to the fucking hilt," he chuckled, kissing up your neck. You clawed his back, "Please make love to me?" You pleaded, looking into his eyes with a pitiful gaze. Felix smiled, kissing your cheek, "Of course, my darling. We have all night for this," he said, thrusting his hips at a languid and lazy pace. Taking his sweet time to engrain this moment into your heart.