#but when she has no one expecting her to be like that she’s way different

[wandaslittlebird]

You Look So Good (On Your Knees)

Voyeur!Mommy!Wanda x Daddy!Natasha x Reader

What was supposed to be just a weekly movie night quickly turns into something else when you catch a glimpse of something you weren’t supposed to see.

CW: Voyeurism, threesome, strap-on, flogging, orgasm denial (? A tiny bit?), caught in the act (once again a tiny bit), punishment, dacryphilia, degradation, hair pulling, choking (not really), reader calls WandaNat mommy/daddy

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is for @wandamaximoffsbadgirl. Thank you for all your help! I hope this was worth clawing your way under the door. Writing this (particularly the very end) has put me in a total WandaNat x Reader tailspin so expect some fluffy domestic stuff in the coming weeks.

A/N: I kinda sorta definitely double dipped for this fic, and it’s a spin of a different fic I did for a different fandom. But new fandom new crowd, and I figure almost none of you have read my non-marvel work. So the self-plagiarism is strong, but will probably go unnoticed anyway.

“Wanda? Natasha?” You called into the seemingly empty house.

It was Thursday night, your designated movie night with the couple: your long term friends and fuck buddies. They’d given you a key months ago. So, when you knocked and no one answered you just let yourself in.

You set down your bag in the living room, looking for them around the house. Their cars were both in the driveway. They had to be home. After investigating the first floor, you went upstairs. Maybe they were already in the bedroom waiting for you. That is where you always had your movie nights, after all.

You cracked the door open to find them both on the bed, Natasha underneath Wanda in an intense kiss. Natasha was grinding up against Wanda’s thigh, whining and breathless. You could tell by the way her hips were starting to falter, she was close. They must’ve been at this for a while. You didn’t want to interrupt.

You took a step back, trying to quietly shut the door. Maybe you could just wait downstairs until they finished. But before you could click the door fully shut, you heard Wanda’s commanding voice. “Not so fast, little girl.”

You sighed. You’d been caught. You opened the door back up, revealing Wanda pulling herself away from her wife. She looked at you with a cold glare, curling her fingers, instructing you to come to her.

She had you stand between her legs at the foot of the bed. “Did you not think to knock when coming into mommy and daddy’s room?”

“I-I knocked outside! I couldn’t find you! I was just looking for-“ you desperately tried to explain.

Wanda cut you off with a smirk. “Well, you found us.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh but honey, you did interrupt,” Wanda explained condescendingly. “You interrupted and now daddy doesn’t get to cum.”

“W-what? No but she was so close! Please let her cum mommy,” you pleaded on Natasha’s behalf. You genuinely felt terrible. You knew what that kind of denial felt like and you would never wish it on anyone, especially not your daddy.

Natasha smiled when you jumped to her defense, joining you and Wanda at the end of the bed. She beckoned you over to her, quickly pulling you to sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around your waist, whispering into your ear. “It’s okay, baby. You're gonna make daddy cum so good later, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, shivering against her. God, you had hoped movie night would start like this.

“But for right now,” Wanda started. “We’ve got to teach somebody a lesson about knocking, don’t we? It’s your fault daddy didn’t get to cum, so daddy should be allowed to punish you, shouldn’t she?”

You looked to Natasha, who just raised her eyebrows expectantly, and then you nodded. “Yes mommy.”

“That’s our good girl,” Wanda purred, running her hand down the side of your face and lightly pinching your cheek. “Now, daddy’s gonna get you all set up on the bench while mommy goes to get some toys, okay?”

They both stood almost synchronously. Wanda briefly disappeared into the next room while Natasha hoisted you up in her arms, laying you face down on the leather bench next to the bed. She propped the back part up so it turned into more of a seat.

Wanda came from the closet with a long black leather flogger, her implement of choice for this particular scene. She handed it to Natasha, who smiled and gave her a kiss. Wanda sat down next to you, propped up over a seat you were now straddling.

She wiped the hair from your face. “Ready?”

You nodded into the soft, plush leather of the seat. You could already feel yourself easily slipping into that fuzzy space, where all the thoughts, worries, and responsibilities became irrelevant.

Wanda smiled, noticing the way your eyes glazed over. “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

“Yes, mommy,” you said as clearly as you could muster.

Wanda ran the back of her hand down your cheek. You shivered. She was the only lesbian you’d ever meet who always wore acrylics. The sharp point of her stiletto nails on your face sent tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation.

You felt the leather tassels of the flogger brush lightly against your back. You whimpered, squirming in your seat.

“You don’t have to count, honey,” Wanda soothed. “Just let go. Mommy and daddy are gonna take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything at all.”

With that you felt the first sharp sting of leather snap against your back. You let out a noise between a whimper and moan. Natasha started slow, each hit a distinct sensation on your back, but as she started to pick up the pace, the strikes became less distinct.

In less than five minutes, she’d made a mess of you. You whined and squirmed against the leather seat.

“Aww sweetheart,” Wanda cooed. “Do you need mommy to hold you still while daddy whips you?” Before you could answer, the blows stopped.

“Nooo…” you whined. “Daddy keep going. Please I promise I’ll sit still. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your protest, you felt two strong hands pick you from your seat. “I’m not done, princess,” you heard Natasha’s soft voice say. “But you’ve gotta stop squirming or I’m accidentally going to hit you in the kidneys.”

You were lowered into Wanda’s lap, where your legs were forced wider apart in order to straddle her. It made it significantly harder to move. She locked her hand around your thigh to keep you in place. Her other hand gently massaged your hair. “That’s it honey. Mommy will make sure you stay nice and still.”

Her long nails against your scalp were almost enough to make the thoughts fly from your head. “But… But you’ll get hit.”

Wanda chuckled and kissed your temple. “Daddy has excellent aim, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about anything at all.”

The leather cracked against your back again. It hurt more now that your back was already raw. If not for Wanda’s hand pinning you in place, you might’ve jumped off her lap entirely. You whined wrapping your arms around Wanda.

She cradled your head over her shoulder, gently shushing your cries as she watched Natasha bring the leather down against your back over and over again.

“Mommy…” you whined into her ear. You were trying to ride her thighs like you had ridden the leather seat, but the awkward position prevented you from getting any friction whatsoever. It wasn’t even until Wanda felt drops of warmth on her thighs that she realized why you were whining.

“Aww,” she hummed, “you’re making a bit of a mess on mommy’s lap, baby.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” you mumbled into her shoulder. “I just… it feels so good.”

“All this just from a flogging, sweetheart?” She teased. She would’ve loved to tease you further, but she was genuinely afraid you’d accidentally hurt yourself if she stopped holding you in place, much less if she had her hand between your legs.

You blushed, burying your face into her neck. “Mommy…” you whined when the leather stung your back once again. “Mommy please…”

Wanda’s heart melted at your words. The combination of your pathetic voice begging her for relief and your frail body in her arms made her want to ruin you in a different way. You were just so vulnerable. It would be such a waste to not take advantage of you in this state. “Alright,” She cooed. “I think she’s learned her lesson, hasn’t she Tasha?”

Natasha chuckled, but she stopped her flogging. “Do you think she’s learned her lesson, or have you just gone soft for a ‘mommy please’?”

Wanda wrapped her arm around your back, long nails still masterfully massaging your scalp. She rocked you back and forth in her lap. “Oh come on Tasha, look at her: getting all pathetic and leaky in her mommy’s lap. Doesn’t it just make you wanna…”

“Throw her on the bed and fuck her into the mattress until the only things in her little head are mommy and daddy?” Natasha finished.

“Exactly,” Wanda smiled mischievously. It was such a marvelous thing that she married someone who was always on the same wavelength as she was.

You were promptly picked up out of Wanda’s lap from behind. You whined, reaching out for Wanda.

“Now now,” Natasha chided. “None of that. Mommy’s not going anywhere. She’s gonna be here with you the whole time.”

She guided you to kneel on the bed, nudging your legs apart. Almost instinctively, your hands were crossed at the wrist behind your back.

Wanda hadn’t exactly planned on binding your wrist, but when you sat so perfectly, so expectantly, she could hardly resist.

“Natasha, would you like to bind this little darling's hands for us?” She instructed.

Natasha smiled, eagerly grabbing a length of pink ribbon and getting to work on tying your wrists together. She so loved tying you up. While a simple figure 8 around the wrists would’ve done the trick, she decided instead on a more complex design that would bind you up to the elbow. She knew she had time. Wanda would require a thorough inspection before she’d let Nat fuck you.

Wanda ran a singular finger through your slit. Her cold rings and sharp nail bumped over your clit as she dragged her hand upward. The sensation caused you to jump and whimper. Wanda just chuckled, bringing her finger lightly up your body until it was at your lips. You took her finger obediently between your lips.

“Do you think your ready for daddy to fuck you, baby?” she asked. “Does this needy pussy want daddy’s cock?”

You nodded, trying not to wince as her rings made their way onto your tongue, filling your mouth with a metallic taste.

“Which of daddy’s toys do you want, huh?” She asked, intentionally pushing down on your tongue so you couldn’t talk. “I’ll think I’ll have daddy use the purple strap. The one with the- what did you call them- the ‘mean ridges’? The ones that scrap against your special spot?”

You whined around her finger, giving her the most endearing puppy dog eyes you could possibly muster.

“Oh sweetheart,” she cooed, “do you not like that one? Maybe you’d prefer it if daddy tied you to the chair and you watched her fuck mommy instead, hmm? Maybe you’d just prefer not to have any orgasms at all?”

You shook your head frantically. You wanted to protest, to promise you’d be good and take that dreaded purple strap, but you couldn’t speak.

She chuckled. “That’s what I thought, baby. You’re gonna be a good girl for mommy and daddy, aren’t you?”

You nodded. She pulled her finger from your mouth and tilted your head up to kiss you gently.

“That’s our sweet girl,” she praised. “Aw it looks like daddy’s finished tying you up all pretty. Can you say thank you to daddy?”

You craned your neck to the side, trying to see her behind you. “Thank you, daddy, for tying me up all pretty.”

Natasha laughed, pulling you back towards her by the ribbon. She kissed you and smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Can you show mommy your pretty ribbon?”

You attempted to turn around to show Wanda the way your hands and arms were intricately bound behind your back, but Natasha pushed you forward into the mattress. You yelped, surprised by the sudden move.

“A present, wrapped special for you, my love,” Natasha said to Wanda, leaning over you to kiss her wife.

“You always know just what to get me,” Wanda breathed against her lips. “Now go get ready, love. I wanna watch you make our sweet little girl cry.”

Natasha climbed off the bed behind you, disappearing into the next room.

Wanda’s nails were against your sore back, rubbing soothing as you lay in wait. You attempted to sit up, but Wanda clicked her tongue. “No, baby,” she chided. “Stay just like this.”

You felt the bed dip as Natasha climbed back on behind you. Her calloused hands lifted your hips so you were kneeling tall. The angle forced your face even further into the mattress. You couldn’t put your hands out to hold yourself up with them tied up behind your back.

Natasha ran the tip of the strap up and down your slit, pulling a muffled moan from your lips. She lined the toy up with your entrance, gently easing it inside. She threw her head back and moaned as she felt each of the ‘mean ridges’ push into you, then she pushed your hips forward and pulled them back, silently commanding you to fuck yourself as you adjusted to her girth.

The toy was, admittedly, slightly too big for you to manage without any discomfort. The ridges cruelly raked against your inner walls, causing you to wince with each movement. But with time, you were able to adjust to feel only a slight, delicious stretch.

After you’d grown to a moderate pace, Natasha took over, grabbing your thighs and pulling them back to meet her own. You let your body go limp, allowing Natasha to control your movements completely. You were putty in her hands.

“Fuck, Wands you should see her from here,” Natasha groaned, looking down and watching the large toy disappear inside of you over and over again. “Fuck it’s like she swallowing me whole. Needy little cunt. Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock can you?”

You tried to bury your face into the sheets to muffle the noises she tore from you, but you were unsuccessful. Without your hands or your arms, your range of motion was severely limited.

Wanda’s eyes went wide and her face cracked into a smile when she heard the first hiccup of a cry. She leaned forward. “Tasha, hold her up. I want to see her face.”

Natasha reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head up so you were face to face with Wanda. She could see the build up of tears in the corners of your eyes and the way your bottom lip quivered, threatening to give way to a sob.

“Aww, sweet girl,” she cooed. “Are you going to cry for mommy? It’s okay angel, you can cry. Daddy’s not gonna stop fucking you even if you are going to be a sobbing little mess.”

Natasha fucked you harder, nearly pulling all the way out before she slammed back into you again. She kept your head up, forcing you to look at Wanda even as your eyes rolled back and your vision went blurry with tears. Natasha wrapped her hand around your throat, grabbing you just under your chin. She braced her forearm against your chest, pinning you upright against her.

The position only accentuated the effect of the ridges, causing them to bump more aggressively against the spongy spot inside of you. “Aww look at how pathetic you look, crying your little eyes out while daddy fills you with her cock.” Wanda teased.

You felt Natasha’s breath hot against your ear. “Tell mommy how pathetic you are.”

You offered little more than a whine in response. Your bottom lip continued to tremble as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Aww, sweet girl, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Wanda assured. “It’s just me and daddy.”

You weren’t truly embarrassed, if you were being honest. You honestly felt like a masterpiece: a carefully constructed vision that Wanda and Natasha had crafted you into. But you played coy nonetheless. You had more fun when Wanda told you how pathetic you looked anyway.

“Poor thing,” Wanda taunted, “never learned how to take a proper fucking without crying.” Her eyes never left yours. Everything about watching her wife handle your helpless body drove her wild.

“I’m sorry mommy… I can’t help it… daddy’s cock feels so good inside of me,” you panted.

Natasha felt a burst of heat in her own core. Between yours and Wanda’s words she could feel herself creeping towards the edge. She just needed a bit of a different angle. She released her hold on you, causing you to fall helplessly back into the mattress. Wanda gently turned your head, preventing you from muffling yourself in the sheets.

You cursed. The combination of Wanda’s gentle hands and the new angle that hit all your most sensitive spots had you so close to an orgasm. All it would take was just a little more pressure on your clit. Unfortunately, with your hands bound behind your back, you were completely at their mercy.

“Please…” you begged mindlessly. “Please don’t stop. Fuck daddy. Please never stop.” You felt so certain that if Natasha pulled out of you right now, you’d simply die on the spot.

“You want to cum on daddy’s cock so badly don’t you?” Wanda teased. “But you can’t touch yourself. Poor baby.”

Natasha changed her pace. She could feel her own orgasm building as she felt the pull of the toy’s ridges pumping in and out of you. “Beg for mommy to let you cum, baby. I wanna hear you begging like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed. The words poured out of your mouth nearly as fast as the tears poured from your eyes. “Please I’m all yours. I’m mommy and daddy’s little slut. Please, you can use me whenever you want. I’m just a little toy for mommy and daddy. Please I just need daddy’s cock inside me forever. Mommy please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl,” Wanda praised, “begging mommy and daddy to use you like a little toy. That’s all you are right? A toy for mommy and daddy’s pleasure?”

“Yes!” you chanted. “Yes! I’m mommy and daddy’s toy. Please let me cum. Please mommy.”

“I wanna see you cum on daddy’s cock. Can you be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock for mommy?” She asked.

Natasha curled her arm around your waist, pinching your clit and milking it between her fingers. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart.

Natasha continued to fuck you as you came, clenching around the strap. The pulsing put the perfect amount of pressure on her own clit, sending her into an orgasm not long after you.

She steadied herself on your hips, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. She pulled the ribbon, and Wanda watched in fascination as the entire thing unraveled itself. They both chuckled as your arms bonelessly flopped down beside you.

Natasha hooked her arm around your waist to prevent you from simply collapsing when she pulled out. She laid you gently on your side before climbing off the bed. She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you with Wanda.

You whined as the toy left, suddenly feeling terribly empty. Wanda sat down on the bed next to you, chuckling again as she bent over to kiss your temple. “I know, love. It’s just devastating that daddy can’t stay inside you forever, isn’t it?”

You nodded, whining again as you felt her wipe away the remnants of your orgasm.

“You did so well for us, love,” she praised, adjusting your position on the bed so you rested against the pillows. She pulled up some blankets, smiling as you wiggled in blissful content. “Comfy, honey?”

You nodded, reaching your arms out for her.

She crawled into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you. She kissed your forehead, earning herself a dopey, blissed out smile from you. She kissed your cheek, licking up what was left of a few salty tears. She moaned at the taste.

Natasha came out of the bathroom, freshened up in nothing but a pair or boxers. She joined you and Wanda in bed, crawling in next to you. She kissed the top of your head. “Are you girls ready for movie night?”

You nodded. “I already promised mommy she gets my movie night cuddles this time, though.”

“What the hell?” Natasha said jokingly, pulling you forcibly into her lap and berating you with kisses. “Daddy fucks you so hard you can’t think straight and mommy still get the movie night cuddles?”

You giggled, squirming out of her kiss attack. “You always fall asleep anyway!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Because I just fucked you so hard you couldn’t think straight. You wear me out, little girl.”

“Fine, daddy cuddles until you fall asleep, and then mommy cuddles,” you compromise.

“That sounds perfect, princess,” Natasha smiled, kissing you briefly.

You looked to Wanda for her approval. She smiled. “Fine. You can cuddle with daddy for the 20 minutes she’s awake, and then you’re all mine for the rest of the night.”

You wrapped your arms around both of them, pulling them into a tight hug. “Deal.”

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[ikeucity]

jealous of jennie.

pairing. bestfriends brother!jay x reader

warning. this story contains sexual content (18+), explicit language, jealousy, and miscommunication. mild angst, fluff, and humor, as well as awkward tension. lighthearted themes of slight degradation/humiliation and insecurity are present, along with consensual smut. mdni.

wc. 33.7k

── .✦⸝⸝ masterlist

jay’s been crushing on you for as long as he can remember, but he’s always been too shy to do anything about it. just when you finally start realizing how interested in him you are, he suddenly starts seeing someone else, and you're not sure you like it. jealousy creeps in, leaving you questioning your feelings—until you stumble upon one of jay's secrets, a “jennie” that changes everything.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray real events or real people. the use of the name "jennie" has no connection to jennie of blackpink, nor is there any intent to sexualize her. any resemblance is purely coincidental. this also does not represent the real members of enhypen in any way. please don’t make it weird.

"so you're telling me, you thought making yeonjun jealous was gonna save your relationship?" you say, staring at hanna like you're trying to knock some sense into her. you emphasize each word, hoping it'll spark at least some shred of doubt about her terrible decision.

she's just sitting there, swirling her juice, while you pick a grape from the fruit bowl between you both at the kitchen island. and here she was, your best friend, diving headfirst into another trainwreck, as if you hadn't been through this with her a dozen times before.

"i mean, you don't think he'll care? you know him," she mumbles, eyes glued to the counter.

you let out a sigh. "oh, he'll care alright. but not in the way you're hoping."

hanna’s fingers fidget with the glass in front of her, the condensation dripping down her wrist. she avoids your gaze, chewing on her lip like she’s debating whether to defend her ridiculous plan or just give in.

typical. you can’t help but shake your head, taking another grape and popping it into your mouth.

"look, you’ve pulled some wild shit before, but this… this is different. yeonjun isn’t the type to play games, and you know that. jealousy’s not gonna make him come crawling back, it’s just gonna piss him off."

her shoulders slump, a little defeat sinking in. “i just… i don’t know what else to do. he’s been so distant lately, like i’m not even there. it’s like… he’s already checked out, and i’m just waiting for the final nail in the coffin.”

you roll your eyes but soften your tone. "hanna, if he’s acting distant, trying to push his buttons isn’t gonna bring him closer. you gotta talk to him, be honest, not… whatever this is."

she finally looks up at you, eyes a little glassy. "what if he doesn’t care anymore? what if i’m the only one still trying?"

that hit deeper than you expected. you lean back, exhaling slowly, thinking of all the times you’ve seen her chasing after something that was already slipping through her fingers. “then maybe… maybe it’s time to let it go, hann. if he’s checked out, then why keep pushing?”

silence lingers between you two for a second, the sound of the clock ticking in the background louder than it should be. hanna brushes her hair behind her ear, voice small. "i just don’t want to lose him."

you sigh, reaching out to rest your hand on hers. "i know. but sometimes, losing someone is better than losing yourself trying to hold onto something that's already gone."

hanna’s lips quiver like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. she just nods, the weight of your words sinking in. for once, she looks like she might actually listen.

"besides," you smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "you can always make him jealous when you’re happy and moved on. that’ll hurt way more than this petty shit."

she lets out a small laugh, wiping her eyes. "yeah, maybe."

"there you go, thinking with your brain again. it looks good on you." you give her a playful nudge, grabbing another grape and tossing it into her lap.

“oh, shut up,” she laughs, finally sounding like herself again.

but even as she smiles, you know the weight of her situation isn’t going away anytime soon. you can only hope she’s strong enough to face it head-on this time.

just as the conversation settles into a more comfortable silence, the front door creaks open, and you glance over to see jay shuffling in. he’s back from classes, hoodie pulled over his head, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

his eyes dart to you immediately, widening slightly before he looks down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

"oh, hey… didn’t know you were here," he mutters, voice barely above a mumble. his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does around you.

he might’ve been quiet and a bit of a loser, but damn if he wasn’t hot, like someone ripped out of a movie. you’ve known him for years—ever since he was that scrawny kid who always hung around his sister, but now, he’s filled out, tall, lean… though he still can’t seem to act normal around you.

"hey, jay," you greet casually, tossing him a quick smile. you can practically see the gears in his head stuttering, like he’s not sure what to say next.

he clears his throat, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "uh, did you guys… were you talking about something important? i don’t want to interrupt or anything."

hanna rolls her eyes at him, giving him a look that says, 'you always interrupt.' she turns back to you and lowers her voice dramatically, like she’s giving away some huge secret. "don’t mind him. he’s just here to stare at you for a bit."

"what?!" jay’s face turns a deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in panic. "hanna, shut up!" he shoots her a death glare, but she just smirks, completely unbothered.

you laugh, trying to ease his obvious discomfort. "nah, we were just talking about how your sister has terrible relationship advice."

jay shuffles awkwardly, clearly not sure how to respond, and hanna snorts. "yeah, don’t get her started on that," she adds with a teasing tone, "she’ll lecture you for hours."

"i do not lecture," you defend yourself, leaning back on your chair. "i just give good advice to people who clearly need it."

jay chuckles softly, still not quite meeting your eyes. "well, i’m sure your advice is better than hanna’s." he sneaks a quick glance at you, and you catch his gaze for a second, noticing how his eyes linger a little too long before darting away again.

it’s kinda cute, actually, the way he gets all flustered around you. he might not be outgoing like his sister, but there was something about the way he awkwardly stumbled over his words that made it obvious he was into you, even if he didn’t have the guts to say it.

"so, uh, i should probably… go study or something," jay mumbles, backing up slowly toward the hallway. he glances at you one more time, the corner of his lip twitching like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

"good luck with that," you say with a playful grin, watching him fumble to leave.

"yeah, thanks," he mutters, practically tripping over his own feet before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and hanna alone again.

once he’s out of earshot, hanna bursts into laughter. "god, he’s so obvious. i swear he’s had the biggest crush on you since, like, forever."

you smirk, picking up another grape. "yeah, i noticed."

"hanna," you start, popping another grape in your mouth, eyes glinting with amusement, "would it be so weird if i actually hooked up with him?"

her jaw drops, and she gapes at you like you just suggested the most forbidden thing in the world.

"are you serious? jay? my little brother jay?" she whispers, half laughing, half in shock, but there's a glimmer in her eye like she's trying to picture it.

"what? he's hot. awkward as hell, but still… hot." you shrug, completely unfazed by her reaction. you could see it now—the way jay would probably blush like crazy, fumbling around nervously, but you didn’t mind.

something about it was kind of endearing.

hanna raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. "okay, but can you imagine how flustered he’d be? he can barely look you in the eye without turning into a tomato."

"exactly. it’d be cute," you tease, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "i mean, he’s been crushing on me forever, right? might as well make his day."

"you're insane," she laughs, shaking her head, but you can tell she’s not actually against the idea. "i can’t believe we're even having this conversation. he’d probably pass out if you even kissed him."

you laugh, thinking about how jay would probably freeze up, all wide-eyed and nervous. "maybe, but i bet he’d be fun to mess with. who knows? he might surprise us."

"ugh, you’re terrible." hanna rolls her eyes but can’t help grinning. "but honestly? if anyone’s gonna break him out of his awkward phase, it might as well be you."

"exactly," you say, giving her a knowing look. "besides, if you’re out here making bad decisions with yeonjun, why can’t i make one with jay?"

hanna groans, burying her face in her hands. "oh my god, this is so messed up."

you chuckle, tossing another grape at her. "don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. he’s been staring at me like a lost puppy for years."

she peeks up from her hands, a mischievous look in her eyes now. "alright, fine. but if you actually do it, you better tell me everything. i’m not missing out on that gossip."

"hanna, you don’t find that weird?" you raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "you’re telling me you wanna know how he'll potentially fuck me? your brother?"

she snorts, completely unfazed, shrugging like it’s no big deal. "i mean, yeah, why not? i already know he’s got a crush on you, and if you’re actually gonna do it, i might as well get the details." her eyes glint with that mischievous spark again, like she’s enjoying this way too much.

you lean back in your chair, still staring at her in disbelief. "that’s some messed up shit, hanna."

she laughs, shaking her head. "okay, maybe it is, but c’mon. he’s a grown-ass man, you’re a grown-ass woman. if you hook up, it’s not like i’m gonna pretend it never happened. besides, think of it like… research. you can tell me if he’s as awkward in bed as he is in life."

"oh my god," you groan, rubbing your temples like you can’t believe you’re even having this conversation.

hanna just grins, leaning on the counter. "look, if anyone’s gonna handle jay, it’s gotta be someone i trust, right?"

"yeah, ‘cause nothing says trust like spilling the details of how your brother fucks," you mutter, but the smirk creeping onto your face betrays you. "fine. if, and i mean if it happens, maybe i’ll let you in on the tea."

hanna claps her hands together, clearly way too excited for this. "oh, i’m holding you to that. don’t chicken out now."

you roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "you’re unbelievable."

"so are you, thinking about banging my brother," she shoots back with a wink.

"touché." you chuckle while running your hands through your hair, the thought of actually doing something with jay making your stomach flip.

there’s a part of you that’s curious, but it’s also so damn messy. “what if he takes it too seriously? or what if it’s just fucking awkward?”

hanna leans back, crossing her arms, watching you spiral. "look, it’s not like you’re making a marriage proposal. it’s just a hookup, if it even happens. jay’s awkward, sure, but i doubt he’d make it weird."

you sigh, feeling the weight of all the shit you’ve been dealing with pile onto this already bizarre situation. "i just… i don’t know, hanna. it’s been a rough few months. i feel like everything’s been dry as hell lately."

hanna raises an eyebrow. "you mean, like… with sunghoon?"

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "don’t get me started. that whole situation was a shitshow."

"okay, spill. what went down?"

you take a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally letting it out. "it was just… boring. like, no spark, no nothing. we were together for months, and I swear, it was like he was just going through the motions. half the time I couldn’t even tell if he was interested."

"huh," hanna nods, thoughtful for a second. "so you broke up with him?"

"yeah, finally. i couldn’t take it anymore. it felt like i was dating a brick wall. no passion, no fire, and don’t even get me started on the sex. dry as fuck." you scoff, leaning back against your chair.

"i tried, hanna. i really did. but how can you stay with someone who makes you feel like you’re invisible half the time?"

"honey, you deserve way better than that," she says, her voice softer now. "it’s not your fault that sunghoon couldn’t keep up. maybe you just need… you know, someone who actually wants you."

"someone like jay?" you joke, half-heartedly, but there’s a flicker of something in your chest when you say it.

hanna smirks, not missing a beat. "hey, i'm not the one who said it, but now that you mention it… he might just be what you need. awkward as hell, sure, but he’s been into you forever, and at least you’d know he’s trying."

"ugh, i’m just tired of all this shit. the dating, the breakups, the dead-end relationships. it’s exhausting."

she nods, giving you a sympathetic look. "i get it. but maybe it’s time to stop worrying about all that serious shit and just have fun. if it’s jay or someone else, who cares? do what makes you happy for once."

you stare at her, taking in her words, feeling the weight of it all slowly lifting off your shoulders. maybe she’s right. maybe it’s time to stop overthinking everything and just do something for yourself.

it’s been months since that conversation with hanna, and somehow, you never followed through with it. maybe it was just something you thought about when you were in a dry spell, coming off a shitty relationship with sunghoon. at the time, jay seemed like the sweetest option, the safest—someone who wouldn’t complicate things. and hanna? she was fine with it, encouraging, actually.

but still, nothing happened. you chalked it up to a moment of weakness. yeah, jay was hot, awkward as hell, but hot.

it was like a loser got trapped in a really good-looking guy's body, the kind of guy who was too shy to realize how much he had going for him. but maybe that’s why you never pushed it—it wasn’t serious. just a fleeting thought after all the mess you went through with sunghoon.

yet, recently, something’s been gnawing at you. hanna’s been casually mentioning that jay’s been seeing someone, dropping it in conversations with that teasing smirk she always has. and, well… it piqued your interest. way more than it should have.

you try to tell yourself it’s nothing.

'good for him,' you say, like you mean it, but deep down, there’s this weird feeling, like something’s off. it’s not jealousy, not really. it’s more like curiosity… or maybe even a bit of possessiveness. after all, you’d been his little crush for years. it was kind of flattering in its own way, knowing he was always there.

"so, jay’s seeing someone, huh?" you finally ask hanna one afternoon, trying to sound casual as you lean back against the couch.

hanna glances at you with that all-knowing look, already sensing something beneath your tone. "yup. can you believe it? he’s finally getting out there. i was shocked at first, but i guess he’s growing up."

"yeah, he’s definitely grown," you mutter, thinking about how much he’s changed in the last few years.

hanna smirks, clearly not missing your choice of words. "what’s that tone? you jealous or something?"

"jealous?" you scoff, but it feels a little forced. "no, just… surprised. i mean, it’s jay. he’s never really dated, right?"

"he hasn’t. but people grow up, y’know? he’s not the awkward little kid anymore, even though he still kinda acts like it," she says, grabbing her phone and scrolling absentmindedly. "he’s been going out with this girl for a few weeks now. cute, right?"

you shrug, trying to play it off, but you can’t help the little sting of annoyance. weeks? that long, and you had no clue?

"yeah, sure. cute," you mutter, glancing away. but your mind’s already spinning, wondering what kind of girl has caught his attention.

hanna raises an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in your tone. "why? you miss him or something?" she teases, smirking over her phone.

"no," you snap a little too quickly, then clear your throat, trying to act unbothered. "just curious, that's all. haven’t seen him around here in a while."

she laughs, shaking her head. "wow, you really do miss him. he used to be around all the time, and now you're noticing when he's gone." she sets her phone down, looking way too amused by this. "admit it—you’re lowkey jealous."

"i’m not jealous," you huff, crossing your arms defensively. "i just didn’t think he’d be the type to dive into a relationship, that’s all."

"oh, so now you’re judging his love life?" hanna grins, leaning in closer, clearly enjoying this. "look, it’s not like they’re serious or anything, but yeah, he’s been busy. getting out there. i thought you’d be happy for him."

"i am," you say, but it sounds half-hearted, even to your own ears. "it’s just weird, that’s all."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk softening. "oh my god," she says, suddenly realizing. "you had your chance, didn’t you? back when we talked about it months ago, but you didn’t follow through, and now you’re regretting it."

"what? no!" you protest, but the way she’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve been caught.

"yeah, you are," she presses, laughing softly. "you thought about it back then, and now you’re wondering if you should’ve just gone for it."

you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

maybe she’s right, just a little. maybe part of you did think jay would always be there, orbiting around, waiting. now that someone else has his attention, it feels different. unsettling.

just then, jay comes stumbling in, looking flustered as hell. his hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed, and he’s wearing clothes that clearly scream date night—button-up shirt slightly wrinkled, dark jeans that fit a little too well, like he actually put thought into the whole thing. the sight of him in that state makes your heart do a weird little flip, but you force yourself to stay cool, act like it’s no big deal.

jay looks at both of you, eyes wide, clearly shocked to find you there, but he lets out a breathless, "hey," like he’s trying to play it off. you catch the faint tremble in his voice, though, and it makes you smirk internally. he’s so damn awkward, it’s almost adorable.

"hmm, hey," hanna says, immediately zeroing in on his disheveled appearance. she crosses her arms, her lips curling into a grin. "where you been, jay? out on a date?"

jay freezes for a split second, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "w-what? no, i wasn’t… i mean, i just—i was hanging out with some friends."

you can’t help but snicker at how awful he is at lying, and jay shoots you a quick glance before looking down, his cheeks growing redder. "friends, huh?" you say casually, trying to hide the amusement in your voice. "didn’t know your friends wore that much perfume."

his face flushes deeper, and hanna’s on him in a second, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "wait a second…" she leans in, sniffing the air dramatically. "oh my god, you’re actually wearing perfume. like, something a girl would wear." her grin gets even wider. "jay, did you steal her perfume or what?"

"no!" he stammers, taking a step back, clearly overwhelmed by the interrogation. "i didn’t—i mean, i wasn’t stealing anything. i just—i don’t know, maybe i hugged her or something, okay? it’s not a big deal."

the way he says her makes your stomach tighten, but you shove it down, refusing to let it show. instead, you raise an eyebrow, giving him a nonchalant look. "so there is a girl, huh?"

jay looks like he’s about to combust on the spot, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to defend himself. "i… it’s not like… yeah, i’ve been seeing someone, but it’s not serious, okay? we’re just hanging out. nothing crazy."

"hanging out," hanna echoes, clearly enjoying every second of this. "is that what we’re calling dates now? ‘cause, bro, you look like you just came back from date night."

jay groans, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly desperate to escape the conversation. "look, can we just not do this right now? i’m gonna go to my room." and with that, he rushes past, practically bolting toward the hallway.

but not before you catch it. the scent. that sweet, floral perfume lingering on him. it’s subtle but unmistakable—definitely something a girl would wear, and something that would drive any guy crazy. you can’t help but feel a strange knot form in your chest as you watch him disappear into his room.

"huh," hanna says, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied grin. "he’s really getting out there. good for him."

"yeah," you mutter, trying to act unaffected, but the perfume, the thought of him with someone else—it’s still swirling in your head. "good for him."

you sit there, staring at the spot where jay had been just seconds ago, the scent of that damn perfume still hanging in the air like some ghost that won’t leave. hanna’s sitting back, satisfied with her little interrogation, but you can’t help the weird pit forming in your stomach.

you try to shake it off, acting like none of this bothers you, but it does. way more than it should.

you stayed over at hanna’s that night, and the tension from earlier stuck with you like a bad itch. jay never left his room, not once, which only made your curiosity gnaw at you even more.

what the hell was going on with him? who was this girl? you tried to push it out of your mind, but it clung to you, especially with the scent of that perfume still lingering in your thoughts.

you and hanna were playing mario kart, both of you on the couch. or rather, you were playing, while she kept glancing at her phone, clearly distracted by a stream of notifications from yeonjun. every time her phone buzzed, she'd snicker or blush, completely zoning out from the game.

"yo, if you’re just gonna text yeonjun the whole time, i might as well play alone," you teased, bumping her with your elbow as she nearly drove off the track.

"huh? what? no, i’m playing," she muttered, not even looking at the screen as her character crashed into a wall. "yeonjun just sent me something funny, that’s all."

you roll your eyes, about to give up on getting her attention back when the doorbell rang.

"huh, who’s that?" hanna said, barely glancing away from her phone.

you pause the game, both of you looking toward the door. hanna finally gets up, heading over to open it. when she swings the door wide, you see him standing there—jay’s friend, heeseung. he’s clearly flustered, his hand shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s uncomfortable being there.

"heeseung?" hanna asks, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

heeseung shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "uh, hey. is jay here? we were supposed to hang out, but he hasn’t been answering his phone. i figured i’d just come by and check."

you almost smirk. god, another one of jay’s friends who was a total loser in the cutest way possible.

like jay, heeseung had everything going for him—good looks, tall, decent style, but somehow still gave off the energy of a guy who’d stumble over his own words if you looked at him too long.

"he’s been locked in his room since he got back," hanna says, rolling her eyes. "probably doing god knows what. you can go knock if you want."

heeseung glances at you for a split second, then back at hanna. "uh, yeah, cool, thanks."

as he makes his way toward jay’s room, you can’t help but chuckle under your breath. you knew heeseung and jay well enough—they were practically glued to each other most days, playing games together, screaming over discord at all hours of the night. and here he was, showing up like some worried girlfriend when jay wasn’t answering his phone.

"he’s definitely still in there," hanna mutters, sitting back down next to you. "but if anyone can drag his ass out, it’s heeseung."

you nod, but your mind is elsewhere. jay, locked in his room all night, avoiding everyone. was he embarrassed? hiding from whatever happened earlier? or was it something else?

your curiosity eats at you, but you shove it down, focusing back on the game as heeseung knocks softly on jay’s door.

the muffled sound of voices drifts down the hall, heeseung’s awkward murmur and jay’s low, strained reply. you can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tension lingers in the air, heavy and thick.

"heeseung’s probably just here to game with him, like always," hanna says, half-watching the screen. "but i gotta say, that boy’s a mess too. sometimes i don’t get how they even function."

you snort. "yeah, but they’re good guys. even if they’re both clueless."

hanna grins. "true. but damn, if only they weren’t such awkward losers. they’d probably have girls falling all over them if they weren’t so… i don’t know, them."

you laugh, shaking your head, but part of you can’t shake the nagging thought about jay, the girl, the perfume… and why he’d been acting so strange ever since. damn.

looks like jay eventually let heeseung in, because after a few minutes, you hear the low murmur of voices coming from his room. nothing loud or out of the ordinary, but just enough to confirm that heeseung’s been granted access.

you continue playing mario kart with hanna, your mind half in the game and half still on jay, wondering what the hell is going on with him.

hanna keeps glancing at her phone, and you don’t miss the small smirks she gives whenever a notification pops up. it doesn’t take long before she’s fully lost in her own little world, yeonjun obviously at the center of it. you roll your eyes.

“you’re not even playing anymore,” you say, bumping her with your elbow as she drives straight off the edge for the third time in a row. “might as well just text him if you’re that distracted.”

“ugh, fine,” she mutters, tossing her controller down with a dramatic sigh. “he’s been dying to talk, and I can’t concentrate anyway.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what’s going on with you two, anyway? things getting serious or what?”

hanna bites her lip, the kind of half-smile that tells you everything and nothing all at once. “we’ll see. he’s been acting all sweet lately, but I just want to clear some things up, you know? make sure we’re on the same page.”

“mm-hmm,” you hum, not buying her casual tone for a second. “sure, sure. go have your little heart-to-heart.”

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, getting up and grabbing her phone. “i’m gonna go to my room and talk to him. don’t get into too much trouble while i’m gone,” she teases, disappearing down the hall with her phone already pressed to her ear.

you’re left sitting there, the room suddenly quiet except for the distant sound of jay and heeseung talking behind closed doors. you play a few more rounds of mario kart, but it feels pointless now that hanna’s gone and your mind is drifting back to jay again.

curiosity gets the better of you. before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself walking down the hall, toward jay’s room. your footsteps are light, almost cautious, like you’re not even sure you want to be caught doing this. but something about the whole situation—jay’s sudden flustered behavior, the perfume, the secrecy—it’s gnawing at you, and you just need to know.

you stop just outside his door, pressing your back to the wall, trying to hear what they’re talking about. their voices are low, but you catch snippets here and there. heeseung’s calm, steady tone contrasts with jay’s more hesitant, awkward replies.

“…so, how’d it go?” you hear heeseung ask, his voice muffled through the door.

there’s a long pause, and you can practically feel jay squirming from the other side. “…it was fine. great even but, god. it’s just… different.”

“different how?” heeseung presses, and now you’re straining to hear every word, your heart racing a little.

jay lets out a sigh. “i don’t know. i mean, she’s cool, but… i keep thinking about—”

you hold your breath, leaning in a little closer, desperate to hear what he’s going to say next. thinking about who? what the hell is he talking about?

but before you can catch the rest of his sentence, something creaks under your foot, the sound louder than you expected in the quiet hallway. you freeze, heart pounding in your chest, praying they didn’t hear you.

there’s a brief silence from inside the room, then jay’s voice, a little more alert now. “…did you hear that?”

shit.

you back away slowly, trying to move as quietly as possible, but your pulse is racing, and you can already feel the heat creeping up your neck.

your pulse quickens, adrenaline spiking as you slowly back away from jay’s door, praying he doesn’t open it and catch you red-handed. your foot moves carefully, barely making a sound as you step back down the hall, but you can hear the faint creak of the floorboards under your weight.

“nah, probably nothing,” you hear heeseung say, his voice trying to calm jay down. “this place is always making weird sounds.”

“yeah… maybe,” jay replies, but you can tell he’s still on edge. you hold your breath, waiting, listening for any sign that he’s going to open the door and find you there, eavesdropping like a total creep.

but the door doesn’t open. instead, their conversation picks back up, though jay’s voice is a little quieter now, more cautious, like he knows someone might be listening.

you exhale slowly, stepping back further into the hallway, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just slightly. that was too close, you think, your heart still racing as you slip back toward the living room.

but despite the close call, your curiosity hasn’t been satisfied. if anything, it’s only grown stronger. what the hell is jay thinking about? why did he seem so off today? and who was this girl, this mysterious person he’s apparently been seeing?

something about it all didn’t sit right with you, and it was starting to get under your skin.

as you make your way back to the couch, you try to shake it off, but your mind is still buzzing.

you hear hanna’s door creak open down the hall. she’s probably still on the phone with yeonjun, but knowing her, she’s already caught onto your little adventure. you hear her muffled voice through the walls, sounding serious, like she’s deep in conversation.

you try to focus on the game, but the more you think about it, the more frustrated you get. why do i even care so much? you ask yourself. jay was just a guy.

a sweet, awkward guy who’s been crushing on you for ages, sure, but still… why did the idea of him with someone else, even just hanging out, feel like it was getting to you so much?

you sigh, your grip tightening on the controller as you speed down the mario kart track, barely paying attention to what you’re doing. you know you’re overthinking it, but that doesn’t make the sick feeling in your gut go away. you hear a faint laugh from jay’s room, and your stomach twists.

hanna comes back into the living room, phone still in hand, but the conversation with yeonjun clearly over for now. she glances at you, raising an eyebrow as she flops down next to you on the couch, her eyes immediately narrowing like she’s picked up on something.

“you good?” she asks, half-amused, half-suspicious. she probably noticed the way you’ve been sitting there, controller in hand but not really playing, clearly lost in thought.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you lie, a little too quickly.

she smirks, shifting her position to face you better. “sure, sure. you’re ‘fine,’ but you look like you’re thinking way too hard about something. spill it. what’s going on?”

you pause, debating how much to say, but you know hanna isn’t the type to let things slide. she’ll keep poking until you give her something. you sigh, tossing the controller down in frustration.

“okay, fine. i’m just… curious.”

“about?”

“jay.”

hanna’s smirk widens. “oh? now we’re back to jay, huh? what happened while i was on the phone? did something weird go down between you two?”

“no,” you mutter, though that knot in your stomach tightens again. “it’s just… i don’t know. he’s been acting strange. like, he’s all flustered and avoiding us, and then there’s the whole thing about him seeing someone. i guess it’s just throwing me off.”

“hmm.” hanna leans back, crossing her arms as she studies you, clearly amused by your little dilemma. “so you’re bothered that jay’s hanging out with another girl. interesting.”

“i’m not bothered,” you say, but even to you, it sounds weak. “it’s just… weird, okay? he’s always been around, always crushing, and now suddenly he’s off with some other girl, wearing perfume and shit.”

hanna chuckles, shaking her head. “god, you really are jealous, just admit it. you had months to make a move, and now that someone else might be catching his attention, it’s messing with you.”

you shoot her a glare. “jealousy isn't the right term. i told you i'm just curious.”

“right,” she says, clearly not believing you for a second. “so curious that you probably tried to eavesdrop on him and heeseung just now, huh?”

your eyes widen slightly, but you try to keep your cool. “what? no. i didn’t—”

hanna laughs, cutting you off. “oh, please. i know you, and i definitely heard you sneaking around the hallway while i was on the phone. don’t even try to lie.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “fine. maybe i did try to eavesdrop a little. but it didn’t help. they were talking in these vague half-sentences, and now i’m just more confused.”

“so why don’t you just ask him?” hanna suggests, a grin tugging at her lips. “i mean, if you really want to know, just corner jay and get him to spill. he’s terrible at hiding stuff anyway.”

you consider her suggestion, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling inside you. “and what exactly do i say? ‘hey, jay, so i noticed you’ve been acting weird and smelling like another girl. care to explain?’”

hanna bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “honestly? yeah. he’d probably be so flustered, he’d tell you everything just to avoid the embarrassment.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. “you’re terrible.”

“nah, i’m just honest.” hanna nudges you with her elbow. “c’mon, it’s not like he’s some big mystery. he’s jay. awkward, sweet, and totally wrapped up in you. if you want answers, just ask.”

“maybe,” you mumble, still not convinced but knowing she’s probably right.

"should i ask heeseung?" you blurt out, half-joking but also half-serious. maybe heeseung would give you the details without all the awkward stammering that jay would.

hanna raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you just suggested something crazy. "heeseung? are you kidding me? he’d probably fumble even worse than jay."

you laugh, but there's a part of you that wonders. heeseung—god, another awkward mess but that’s also why he might just crack under a little pressure.

"i mean, it’s not the worst idea," you say, shrugging. "he might slip up and say something."

"honey, heeseung can barely hold a conversation without tripping over his words, especially when he’s nervous. and you asking him about jay? yeah, good luck with that." hanna grins, clearly entertained by the idea. "besides, he’d probably just defer to jay, tell you to ask him."

"ugh, you’re probably right," you groan, sinking back into the couch. "it’s just… ugh, something feels off, and i can’t let it go."

hanna tilts her head, studying you with that look she gets when she’s about to get all deep and sisterly. "okay, real talk? why does it bug you so much? i mean, seriously. if jay’s seeing someone, why does it bother you this much?"

you pause, not really sure how to answer that without sounding like a complete mess. because honestly, you hadn’t thought too hard about it until now. why does it bother me?

"i don’t know," you finally admit, sighing.

"hmm," hanna hums knowingly. "so maybe it’s not just curiosity. maybe you liked the attention. or maybe… you like him more than you realize."

"no," you protest immediately, though the knot in your stomach tightens a little. "it’s not like that."

"okay, okay." hanna holds her hands up in surrender, smirking. "but if you want to know what’s really going on, you either ask jay or wait for him to spill. heeseung’s not gonna give you any answers."

you sit there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, the idea of confronting jay still gnawing at you. “yeah, but asking jay feels… complicated.”

“well, then,” hanna says, nudging you with her elbow, “you’ve got a decision to make. either get the guts to talk to jay, or just let it go and stop driving yourself nuts about it.”

you lean back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering if you’ll actually have the nerve to confront jay. the curiosity is killing you, but there’s that part of you that doesn’t want to know… because what if it is serious with this girl?

realizing that maybe you shouldn’t dwell on this too much, you sigh, leaning back on the couch. maybe it’s just your ego getting in the way—getting worked up over the fact that jay’s attention was elsewhere, no longer revolving around you like it had for years.

it stung a little, yeah, but was it really about him? or was it just that weird feeling when someone you always thought would be there suddenly wasn’t?

you rub your temples, trying to shake off the thought. if it’s serious, do i even want to know?

you’ve already been through enough drama with sunghoon. getting tangled up in whatever jay had going on wasn’t something you needed right now. especially when your feelings about it weren’t even clear.

"maybe i’m just making a big deal out of nothing," you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna.

"huh?" she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe it’s just my ego, you know? i’m probably just annoyed that jay’s not giving me all his attention anymore. and if it’s serious, i really don’t want to mess with it."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk fading into something a little softer. "yeah, maybe. but it’s not wrong to feel weird about it. he’s been your little puppy for so long, it’s gotta feel strange to see him with someone else. but like you said, if it’s serious, maybe it’s better to just leave it alone."

you nod, feeling a bit of relief in her words. leave it alone. yeah, that sounded like the smart move. you didn’t want to ruin anything for jay, not when he’d finally found someone that seemed to have his attention.

"yeah," you say, more certain now. "i’ll just let it go. if he’s happy, that’s all that matters."

"huh, look at you being mature," hanna teases, though there’s a warmth in her voice. "proud of you."

you snort, rolling your eyes. "don’t get used to it. but yeah… i think it’s for the best."

you both settle back into a comfortable silence, the weight of your curiosity easing a bit. jay was figuring out his own life, and as strange as it felt, you couldn’t hold onto the past forever. people moved on, and maybe it was time you let him do the same without all the second-guessing.

weeks pass, and things between you, jay, and hanna settle into a weird but manageable routine. jay’s still around, but not as much. and you’ve mostly convinced yourself to stop overthinking it, especially when hanna lets slip that things with jay’s new girl seem to be going well.

every time she mentions it, you nod along, offering a polite "that’s great," even though you feel that familiar, subtle tug of something you can’t quite name. but you push it down and try not to dwell on it.

then one weekend, hanna decides to throw a party at her house. nothing too crazy, but she’s invited a bunch of friends over, and the idea is to just relax, drink, and let loose for a bit.

you’re half-excited, half-dreading it, especially since you know jay will probably be there too, along with a bunch of his friends, including heeseung.

"hanna, do we really need this party?" you ask a little nervously, standing in her kitchen the day of, helping her set up snacks and drinks. "i mean, are we celebrating something? or are you just in the mood to stir up chaos?"

she grins at you, mischievous as ever. "oh, you know me. stirring up chaos is my specialty. plus, we haven’t had a decent get-together in forever. and i need an excuse to dress cute and get drunk, so here we are."

you laugh, shaking your head. "fair enough."

“plus, yeonjun’s coming,” she adds with a wink, clearly excited about that little detail. “and i want him to meet some of my friends, show him off a bit, you know?”

“ah, so this party is really for yeonjun,” you tease, nudging her with your elbow.

“well, yeah,” she laughs, “but you’ll benefit too. lots of people are coming. you might meet someone.”

you roll your eyes but smile, part of you hopes he won’t bring his new girl to the party, though you hate yourself a little for even thinking that.

as the night progresses, people start trickling in. the house fills with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and music. you find yourself sipping on a drink, wandering between groups of friends, making small talk but keeping an eye out for familiar faces.

it’s a decent crowd—mostly people you know through hanna, but enough new faces to keep things interesting.

then, just as you’re starting to relax, jay walks in. and of course, heeseung is with him. jay’s wearing his usual casual style, but something about him seems different tonight—more confident, maybe? or maybe it’s just the way he’s been acting lately, more sure of himself. you can’t help but notice it, even though you’ve been telling yourself to stop.

your eyes flicker to his side, half-expecting to see the girl he’s been seeing, but to your surprise, he’s alone. no girlfriend in tow, just him and heeseung, who looks equally as awkward but still manages to make it work somehow.

hanna spots them and waves them over, and before you know it, you’re standing in a small group with jay, heeseung, and a few others, trying to act casual.

“hey,” jay says, his voice a little quieter than usual as he gives you a small, shy smile. "how’s it going?"

"good," you reply, forcing a smile back.

he nods, looking like he’s about to say something else when hanna jumps in, handing him a drink and teasing him about finally showing up. you take a sip of your own drink, trying not to stare, but you can’t help feeling that tug again, even though you promised yourself you were over this.

heeseung, meanwhile, is standing awkwardly beside jay, clearly a little uncomfortable in the social setting but still trying to make conversation. “so, uh, this party’s pretty cool,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

"yeah, it’s nice," you say, giving him a reassuring smile. "hanna always knows how to throw a good party."

"for sure," heeseung agrees, glancing around like he’s not sure what to do next.

as the conversation flows, you notice jay stealing glances at you every now and then, the party vibe is definitely kicking up a notch. the music’s louder, people are getting rowdier, and the drinks are flowing fast.

you’re on your second, maybe third drink, the buzz slowly settling into your veins, helping to loosen up that weird tension you’ve been feeling since jay walked in.

you're standing with jay, heeseung, and a couple of others, and it’s not long before everyone’s talking shit and laughing a little too loudly.

heeseung, bless his awkward heart, is still standing off to the side, clutching a drink like it’s a lifeline. the guy’s not exactly built for parties, but he’s trying. you watch as he takes a big swig of his beer, his face immediately flushing red, creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks.

you can’t help but smirk, leaning in slightly as you raise an eyebrow at him. “damn, heeseung. you okay? you’re turning red as fuck.”

heeseung sputters, looking down at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “what? no, i’m fine. just, uh, warm in here, y’know?”

“sure, sure. it’s the alcohol, isn’t it?” you tease, giving him a playful grin. “you’re a lightweight, huh?”

he flushes even more, if that’s even possible, and you can’t help but find it kind of cute. maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but seeing him all flustered like this has you feeling a little bold. “you know, it’s a good look on you. red suits you,” you say, giving him a slightly flirty smile.

heeseung’s eyes widen a bit, and he looks like he’s about to choke on his drink. “w-what? no, i—thanks, i guess?” he stammers, clearly not expecting that. he shifts awkwardly, trying to hide his face behind his cup.

jay, who’s been listening in, raises an eyebrow at your comment but doesn’t say anything, his eyes flicking between you and heeseung like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. you can see the confusion on his face, like he’s not sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

you can’t help but push a little further, just to see how flustered you can make heeseung. “you’re cute when you’re drunk, heeseung. maybe you should drink more often.”

heeseung’s practically glowing red now, his grip tightening on his drink as he lets out a nervous laugh. “uh, maybe I’ll stick to water,” he mumbles, clearly flustered out of his mind.

“nah, live a little,” you tease, leaning back casually, taking a sip of your own drink. you’re definitely feeling a little bolder than usual, the alcohol making you loosen up while jay’s still watching the whole interaction.

hanna comes over, laughing loudly with yeonjun hanging off her, clearly already tipsy. “yo, what’s going on here?” she asks, grinning as she looks between you, jay, and heeseung.

“nothing,” you shrug, “just giving heeseung some shit for turning into a tomato after one drink.”

heeseung groans, covering his face with his hand. “can we not?”

hanna snickers, nudging you. “i see you, though, giving him those flirty little comments. careful, or you’re gonna give him a heart attack.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, he’s fine. aren’t you, heeseung?”

heeseung gives a weak thumbs up, still too flustered to respond properly, and you can’t help but find the whole thing hilarious. jay, though, is still watching you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing, his jaw clenched just slightly. but you ignore it, deciding to have a little fun with the night.

“so, jay,” you say, turning to him with a smirk. “how’s the new girl? thought you’d bring her to the party.”

jay’s expression tightens for a split second before he relaxes, shrugging casually. “she’s busy. couldn’t make it.”

“oh,” you hum, “too bad. would’ve been nice to meet her.” the words come out a little more pointed than you intended, but the alcohol’s loosening your tongue.

jay just nods, sipping his drink, not saying much, but the tension between you two is palpable now. heeseung’s still standing there, awkward as ever, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

hanna gives you a look, raising an eyebrow. “damn, what’s going on with y’all?” she asks, half-laughing. “we’re supposed to be having fun, not having weird-ass standoffs.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “just making conversation.”

jay doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to figure you out. the tension’s thick now, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s caught on to your curiosity about him and his new girl—or if he’s feeling the same weird shift that you are.

the party is in full swing now, reaching that peak where everyone’s either too drunk or too deep in the vibe to care anymore. the music’s loud, thumping through the house, and the living room has turned into a makeshift dance floor. people are swaying, drinks sloshing, and you find yourself caught up in the energy of it all.

you spot hanna in the middle of the room, completely lost in the music, grinding on yeonjun like her life depends on it. she’s got her arms draped over his shoulders, moving with him in sync, her hips swaying to the beat. yeonjun’s hands are on her waist, pulling her closer as they move together, both clearly tipsy but having the time of their lives.

you can’t help but laugh at the sight of her. god, she’s really going for it tonight. you’re feeling the buzz too, a few drinks deep, and before you know it, you’re out on the floor as well, the beat taking over your body.

the room is hot, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol. the bass vibrates through your chest, and you let yourself move, swaying to the rhythm, feeling the weight of everything melt away. the drinks have loosened you up, and you don’t care who’s watching. it feels good to just let go.

you close your eyes, losing yourself in the music, your body moving in time with the beat. you can feel the warmth of the people around you, the brush of bodies as you dance, but you don’t think about anything except the way the music pulses through your veins.

a few minutes pass, and when you open your eyes, you catch sight of jay standing near the edge of the room, drink in hand, watching. his gaze is fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. it’s not just curiosity—it’s heavier, more intense.

the moment your eyes lock with his, you feel a jolt of something run through you. the alcohol in your system makes everything feel bolder, sharper, and you don’t look away.

instead, you let your body move a little slower, more deliberately, the music still guiding you, but now there’s a purpose behind it. you’re aware of his eyes on you, and you’re playing into it.

heeseung’s still somewhere in the crowd, flushed red from drinking, probably too shy to join in on the dance floor, but you’re not thinking about him anymore. your focus is on jay, standing there, watching, the tension between you two crackling in the air like a live wire.

hanna’s laughter cuts through the noise as she and yeonjun get even closer, practically wrapped around each other, and you shake your head, smirking at how wild she’s gotten. but then, almost instinctively, your eyes flick back to jay, and he’s still staring, not even trying to hide it.

as your hips swayed to the rhythm, you suddenly feel an arm drape around your shoulder, stopping you mid-movement. confusion flickers in your mind, and your eyes stay on jay for just a beat longer before you turn to see who it is.

then, you hear someone scream in your ear, trying to be heard over the booming music.

"hey!"

you blink, pulling back slightly, and there he is—sunghoon. your ex.

the shock hits you like a cold wave, making your whole body tense up. of all people, it had to be sunghoon. you immediately feel a rush of irritation bubbling up inside you, remembering all the reasons why you left that dry, emotionless relationship behind.

"sunghoon? what the fuck are you doing here?" you yell over the music, your face scrunching up in disbelief.

he smirks down at you, clearly tipsy, his grip on your shoulder firm but not exactly welcome. "just wanted to catch up!" he shouts, his voice laced with that familiar cocky tone, like he’s doing you a favor just by showing up.

you glance around, realizing how close he’s standing to you, the weight of his arm making your skin crawl. really, sunghoon? now?

"catch up?" you shout back, trying to shake him off. "there’s nothing to catch up on!"

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you feel a spike of anger mix with the awkwardness of the moment. "come on, don’t be like that! i was just thinking about you, y'know?"

your patience snaps. "dude, we're done. way done. move the fuck on already," you snap, stepping out from under his arm. your heart’s racing, and you quickly glance back at jay, who’s still watching, his expression unreadable now.

sunghoon looks taken aback, but that smug grin stays plastered on his face. "alright, alright. no need to be so cold. just thought you might’ve missed me."

"missed you?" you laugh, bitterness creeping into your voice. "nah, not even close."

sunghoon shrugs, clearly not getting the hint or just ignoring it, but you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes flicking back to jay for a brief second. his gaze is still on you, and you can tell by the way his jaw is clenched that he saw everything. there's a flicker of something dark, maybe jealousy, or maybe something else entirely.

you turn back to sunghoon, fed up. "look, you’ve got about ten seconds to fuck off before i make this real awkward for you."

sunghoon finally gets the message, rolling his eyes as he steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. "alright, alright. whatever. you’re missing out."

"yeah, sure," you mutter, watching as he stumbles off into the crowd. good riddance.

the moment he’s gone, you exhale, feeling the tension start to lift.

hanna, still wrapped around yeonjun but now clearly paying attention, turns to look at you as sunghoon walks away. her face is a mix of confusion and amusement, her eyebrows raised. she’s clearly not drunk enough to miss the drama unfolding in front of her.

"what the fuck was that?" she shouts over the music, looking between you and the direction sunghoon disappeared in. "why the hell is he here?"

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "hell if I know. i didn’t even know he’d be at the party. guess he just felt like showing up to ruin my night."

hanna looks equal parts amused and annoyed. "that guy’s got some fucking nerve. acting like you’d just fall back into his arms or something."

you shake your head, still fuming. "he’s delusional. fucking idiot."

hanna watches you for a second longer, then nods toward jay, who’s still standing on the edge of the dance floor, his eyes locked on you. "well, seems like someone else noticed that little encounter. what’s going on with him?"

you glance back at jay, who quickly looks away as soon as your eyes meet. even from across the room. part of you wonders what’s running through his head.

"nothing," you mumble, though you know that’s far from the truth.

hanna snorts, giving you a knowing look. "yeah, well, whatever it is, you should probably talk to him. looks like he’s been staring at you all night. and now with sunghoon back in the picture? don’t let this shit fester, babe."

"shit, what do i even say?!" you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna, but she hears you loud and clear. she leans closer, still swaying a bit from the alcohol and the lingering high of dancing with yeonjun, but her focus is locked on you now.

"easy," she says with a smirk, “you just walk over there, look him dead in the eyes, and say, ‘so, were you watching that whole shitshow, or do I have to fill you in?’”

you groan, rolling your eyes. “yeah, sure, because that’ll go over well.”

hanna raises an eyebrow, nudging you toward him. "you’re overthinking it. just go talk to him. you got this."

"yeah, easier said than done," you mutter, but you force yourself to move. you’re not about to let this weird tension drag out any longer, especially with the way your stomach flips every time jay looks at you like that.

you take a deep breath, pushing your way through the crowd until you’re standing in front of him. jay’s eyes widen the second he sees you up close, his usual quiet confidence completely unraveling as he visibly tenses up. god, he’s already a mess, and you haven’t even said anything yet.

"hey," you start, trying to sound casual, but the alcohol’s making your voice a little too soft, too loose. "you’ve been staring at me all night, you know?"

jay’s face turns bright red, his gaze immediately darting to the floor. "i—uh, i —I mean, maybe I was a little," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does when he’s nervous. "it’s just, well, you look—"

"jay," you cut him off with a smirk, stepping a little closer. "you’re a terrible liar."

his face flushes even more, and he tries to hide it behind a nervous chuckle. "yeah, okay, maybe I was staring. but it’s hard not to when—"

"when what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, feeling a little bolder than usual thanks to the alcohol. god, this drink was definitely getting to you. everything feels looser, like the tension between you two has been stretched so thin it could snap at any second.

"i mean… look at you," jay mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. "it’s hard not to stare when you look like that."

the compliment catches you off guard, but instead of letting it throw you, you press on, pushing the conversation to where you really want it to go. "and what about that girl you’ve been seeing? can't you make her come over for some fun? party's great, shame she couldn't make it."

jay looks completely flustered now, his eyes going wide as he stumbles over his words. "we’re not, like, serious or anything. just hanging out."

"still 'just hanging out,' huh?" you tease, taking another step closer, and now you can see the way he’s nervously shifting from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed red. god, he’s a cute mess.

"yeah," jay mumbles, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief second before he quickly looks away again.

you laugh softly, cutting him off again. "relax, jay. i’m not grilling you." but the way your heart’s racing tells a different story. why does this feel so intense all of a sudden? maybe it’s the alcohol.

jay’s still staring at the floor, shifting uncomfortably, clearly trying to gather his thoughts, but he’s failing at hiding how flustered he is. "i just… didn’t think you’d care."

"why wouldn’t i care?" you ask, your voice softer now, trying to ease him out of whatever mess of feelings he's stuck in. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, vulnerable for a moment, but then he looks away again.

"you’ve never been so curious about me before," he mutters, his voice barely above the music. "we’ve known each other for years, 'cause of hanna, but… you never really asked me questions about myself."

his words hang heavy between you two, the weight of years of unnoticed glances and quiet moments suddenly crashing down. it's not an accusation—just a quiet truth. you'd always been caught up in your own world, and jay had been right there the whole time. you felt bad.

“jay…” you start, but the words don’t come out as you hoped. it’s harder than you thought, confronting the reality that you’ve been blind to him all this time.

he finally looks up, meeting your gaze, and for a second, you can see the frustration and confusion bubbling under the surface. "yeah?"

you hesitate, not wanting to dive too deep into all the messy feelings swirling between you two. instead, you decide to lighten things up, if only for a moment. "where’s heeseung, anyway? thought you two were inseparable tonight."

jay blinks, looking surprised by the change in topic. "uh… heeseung? he’s probably somewhere getting even more drunk," he mutters, glancing around the room briefly. "he disappears when he drinks. tries to avoid embarrassing himself, i think."

you can’t help but chuckle at that. "yeah, i did see him turn red after like one drink. kinda cute, honestly."

jay’s expression softens slightly, the tension between you both easing, though he still seems unsure. "yeah, that’s him," he says, his voice a little lighter now.

"so… what about you?" you ask, biting your lip, your heart beating a little faster. "i mean, are you avoiding embarrassing yourself, too?"

jay laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances around, clearly feeling a bit off-balance. "um, yeah, i’m trying. but i’m starting to get a little drunk, so…" he trails off, placing his cup on a nearby shelf with an awkward, almost cute, gesture.

you can’t help but smile at how flustered he is, but the air between you is still heavy with the unsaid. it’s like there’s this invisible line you both keep dancing around, but neither of you is willing to cross it.

“you’re not doing a bad job so far,” you tease lightly, stepping closer. your heart’s pounding, the alcohol loosening your tongue more than usual. “though i wouldn’t say you’re avoiding embarrassment. not entirely, anyway.”

just then, as if summoned by the awkward tension hanging in the air, heeseung comes rushing in, his face red, flushed even more than before. his hair’s a mess, and he’s panting slightly, looking like he just barely made it through whatever disaster he’s been avoiding.

“hey, guys!” he blurts out, clearly drunk, his words slurring just a little as he stumbles into the room. his eyes flick between you and jay, not noticing the thick air of tension he just walked into.

“thought i’d find you here—what’s going on?” he says, grinning like he hasn’t just completely derailed whatever moment you and jay were having.

you and jay both freeze, caught off guard by heeseung’s sudden appearance. you can’t help but laugh softly at the timing, shaking your head as the moment you were sharing with jay evaporates into the background.

"heeseung, man," jay mutters, trying to keep his voice steady as he looks at his friend. "where’ve you been? you’re looking… rough."

heeseung waves him off, stumbling slightly as he leans on the wall for support. "don’t worry ‘bout me. just had a few too many, I guess." he grins, then looks at you with that drunken charm only heeseung could pull off. “but damn, am i interrupting something? you two look like you’re in the middle of a moment.”

jay groans under his breath, rubbing his face in frustration, while you can’t help but snicker at the situation. of course heeseung would show up now, right when jay finally had some alone time with you. well kinda—minus the other people partying.

“nah, just talking,” you say, waving him off, though you catch jay giving you a quick glance, his expression still a little tight. “what about you, heeseung? you look like you’re about to pass out.”

heeseung grins sheepishly, his face still bright red from drinking. “maybe. but I’m still standing! barely,” he jokes, clearly unaware of the tension between you and jay. "but hey, good to see you two getting along. for a second, i thought i was gonna have to play wingman."

“wingman? for who?” you tease, feeling a bit more playful now that the moment with jay has been interrupted.

jay shifts uncomfortably beside you, clearly caught off guard by heeseung’s drunken boldness. his eyes flick to you, waiting to see how you’d react, and when you just laugh and shake your head at heeseung’s comment, jay groans under his breath.

fuck, heeseung.

unable to hide his embarrassment, jay moves quickly, throwing an arm around heeseung in a side hug. but it’s not exactly friendly—more like a half-hearted attempt to pull him close and, at the same time, silently threaten him into shutting the hell up.

"yeah, okay, man," jay mutters through gritted teeth, rubbing heeseung’s shoulder in a way that would seem affectionate if it wasn’t for the slight squeeze of warning. "you’ve had enough. let’s not make things worse for you."

heeseung, still too drunk to fully catch on, just laughs, grinning as he looks between you and jay. “what? i’m just being honest! i mean, the guy’s been staring at you like—"

jay tightens his grip on heeseung’s shoulder, cutting him off with a forced chuckle. “alright, alright, that’s enough out of you.” he pats heeseung a little harder than necessary, shooting him a look that practically screams shut the fuck up before you make this worse.

you can’t help but find the whole thing amusing, watching jay struggle between mortification and trying to keep heeseung from spilling any more embarrassing truths. “looks like someone’s about to get dragged home,” you tease, biting back a grin as you watch the two of them.

jay throws you a look, his face still red from embarrassment. “yeah, and it’s about to be this guy,” he says, giving heeseung one last squeeze before loosening his grip.

heeseung, still grinning like an idiot, doesn’t seem to mind. “whatever, man,” he mutters, swaying slightly. “i’m just trying to help.”

you laugh, shaking your head. "help, huh? i’m not sure how much help you’re being right now."

"he’s not," jay groans, letting go of heeseung and stepping back, trying to recover from the mess his friend just created. his eyes meet yours again, still flustered but with a hint of nervousness, like he’s wondering if you’re taking this all in stride.

"but he’s right, you know," you say suddenly, your voice teasing but carrying a little more weight now as you look at jay. "you were staring."

"i-i… don’t have a rebuttal for that," jay stammers, his face flushing deeper as he struggles to maintain his composure. you can tell he’s embarrassed, completely thrown off by how the night’s turned out, and it’s honestly kind of adorable.

just then, heeseung suddenly sways, looking like he’s about to pass out. jay’s eyes widen with worry, and without hesitation, he wraps an arm around his drunken friend. “shit, he’s about to drop,” jay mutters, looking at you quickly. “i need to get him to my room before he makes a scene.”

you nod, stepping in to help, guiding heeseung’s other side as the three of you stumble through the house. the party’s still loud in the background, but the farther you get, the more it fades into a distant hum. it’s almost a relief when you make it to jay’s room, the door shutting behind you, instantly muffling the chaos outside.

as jay sets heeseung down on the bed, you take a moment to glance around. damn. you haven’t been in here in years, and it’s clear things have changed.

gone are the comic books and posters that once covered his walls. now, jay’s room has a more refined, almost minimalist vibe. his gaming setup is still the centerpiece, of course, but everything else—his sleek furniture, expensive-looking decor—makes it clear that he’s grown up in more ways than one. who knew jay had such expensive taste?

"wow," you say, unable to help yourself. "i remember when me and hanna used to sneak in here and steal your comic books."

jay chuckles, glancing over at you as he pulls a blanket over heeseung. “yeah, those were the days. back when you barely even noticed i existed,” he says it lightheartedly, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his voice.

you laugh, shaking your head as you take in the room. "well, your room’s definitely grown up. fancy, even."

jay smirks, leaning against the wall, finally a bit more relaxed now that heeseung’s out cold. “what can i say? things change. i figured it was time to upgrade.”

“clearly,” you say, raising an eyebrow at his setup. “you look like you’ve got your life together now.”

“well, appearances can be deceiving,” jay mutters, a slight smile playing on his lips as he crosses his arms, looking at you with that same vulnerable expression from earlier.

there’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you again. the party feels like a world away now, and for the first time tonight, you’re both alone.

as you stand there, the weight of the moment heavy between you and jay, you feel your legs move before you really think about it. you sit down on the edge of the bed, glancing at heeseung, who’s already out cold, sprawled out and snoring softly. the sight of him, completely knocked out, makes you chuckle softly under your breath.

“looks like he’s done for the night,” you murmur, leaning back slightly, your hand brushing the soft fabric of the bedspread. jay’s bed. it’s something small, insignificant even, but the realization hits you—you’re sitting on his bed.

and jay… well, if you could see inside his mind right now, it’d be a mess of chaos. holy shit, she’s sitting on my bed. his heart’s pounding, his brain scrambling to process the fact that the girl he’s been crushing on for years is casually sitting on his bed, her presence making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

god, if only it’d smell like her. jay inwardly groans, leaning against the wall, trying to play it cool. but every second you stay there, it feels like his mind is short-circuiting.

he’s had dreams about this exact scenario—well, maybe without the passed-out heeseung—but still, this was close enough to make him freak out inwardly. he’s trying not to stare, but he’s doing a terrible job of hiding how flustered he is.

“he’s gonna be feeling that tomorrow,” you say, looking up at jay, noticing how he hasn’t said much since you sat down. his face is a little too composed, like he’s trying not to let on how much this is messing with him.

jay laughs, but it’s awkward, his throat dry. “yeah, he’s gonna hate himself in the morning.” he forces himself to focus on something else—anything else—but his mind keeps drifting back to the fact that you’re sitting on his bed. fuck.

you glance around the room again, taking in how different everything feels now. “you’ve really grown up, jay,” you say softly, a teasing edge to your voice. “i mean, i remember when this room was all comics and random junk. now it’s… well, it’s like you.”

jay’s eyes snap to yours, and he swallows hard. “yeah, well… like i said, things change.”

there’s a charged silence, and you can feel the tension settling between you two again, heavier than before. jay shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell to say.

say something, idiot, his mind screams.

but the sight of you, sitting there so casually on his bed, your presence filling the space, is making it impossible for him to think straight. all he can think about is how he’s wanted this—wanted you—for so long, and now you’re here, and it feels too good to be true.

"so, are you also turning in for the night?" you ask jay, your voice soft but teasing, as you glance over at him.

he freezes for a second, not expecting the question. his eyes flick to heeseung, passed out on the bed, then back to you, sitting there looking way too comfortable for him to handle. holy shit, what do i even say?

"uh, no, not yet," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "i mean, i probably should, but…"

but the sight of you sitting on his bed, casually asking if he’s turning in for the night, is making his mind spin. fuck, this is not how I thought tonight would go, were you thinking he still had his own bedtime?

you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small smirk. "what? you too flustered to sleep?"

jay groans inwardly, his face turning even redder. "no, i just—i wasn’t planning on crashing yet, that’s all."

you chuckle softly, leaning back slightly, your hand still resting on the bed. "well, it’s your room, so if you wanna sleep, don’t let me stop you."

jay’s heart is racing. sleep? with you sitting there? yeah, right. he’s practically screaming inside, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but everything feels impossible right now. the tension, the proximity, the fact that you’re casually sitting on his bed like it’s no big deal—it’s all driving him insane.

"nah, i’ll, uh, hang out a bit more," jay says, his voice a little steadier now, but his eyes give him away. he’s nervous, caught up in the moment, and trying desperately not to make it awkward.

"you sure?" you ask, teasing him just a little, sensing how flustered he is.

"yeah, i’m good," he mutters, but his eyes are still glued to you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, the way he’s struggling to keep his composure.

there’s a silence between you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s charged, like something’s building, and neither of you is sure what the next step is.

"you’re acting weird," you finally say, breaking the tension with a playful smile.

jay laughs, but it’s nervous. "yeah, well… it’s not every day you sit on my bed, you know?" he admits, his voice quiet, but his words hit deeper than either of you expected.

"what?" you almost laugh, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. the fact that jay had been talking to a girl recently—someone who clearly had his attention—somehow makes this even more amusing. the contrast between his awkwardness now and the idea of him being confident enough to date just hits differently.

"you’re acting like this is the first time a girl’s sat on your bed," you tease, the words slipping out with a smirk. you lean back a little, watching him squirm. "but you’ve been talking to this girl, right? what’s her name again?"

jay’s face flushes even deeper, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for a second. he scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable now. "yeah, well… that’s different."

"oh? different how?" you ask, still teasing, but now there’s a genuine curiosity building inside you. it’s hard to picture jay this flustered around someone else, especially when he’s always been so awkward with you.

as your eyes drift around the room again, they land on the corner where his trash bin sits. everything else in his room is pristine, almost too perfect, but the mess around the trash catches your attention. then, something makes you pause.

huh? your eyes narrow as you take in what you’re seeing—a used condom wrapper, crumpled at the top of the bin.

the movement catches jay’s attention, and he follows your eyes to the corner of the room. the second he realizes what you’re looking at, his whole body tenses, and his face flushes red again, but this time, it’s not just embarrassment. defensive mode activated.

“shit—it’s not what it looks like!” jay blurts out, scrambling to say something before you can even comment. his voice comes out high-pitched, panicked, and he throws his hands up as if he can somehow stop you from thinking what you’re clearly already thinking.

"oh, really?" you raise an eyebrow, your voice teasing, as you glance between him and the trash bin. "because it looks like someone had a little fun recently."

"no, no, no," jay stammers, his eyes darting around the room like he's searching for an escape. "i mean, yeah, but it’s not—fuck." he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "this is so embarrassing."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing, but the grin’s already spreading across your face. "jay," you say, trying and failing to hide your amusement. "you don’t have to explain yourself. i mean, it's a condom wrapper. it speaks for itself, man."

he groans louder, clearly flustered and struggling to defend himself. “okay, fine, yeah, but—look, it’s not what you think..”

you tilt your head, genuinely curious now, but still teasing. "i mean, it’s pretty simple—girl, guy, wrapper—”

“please stop,” jay groans, cutting you off, his hands covering his face in full-blown embarrassment now. "this is literally the last conversation i wanted to have tonight."

"oh, come on," you laugh, leaning forward. "i gotta hear this."

"it's not that big of a deal," jay mutters, still trying to dodge the conversation, but you can tell he’s squirming under the weight of your teasing.

"oh, but it is," you tease, your grin wide now.

he lets out another groan, this time softer, more resigned, as he sinks back against the wall. "this is so fucking embarrassing."

jay, still visibly flustered and probably dying inside from the teasing, looks at you cautiously. his eyes flick from you to the bed, then back to you.

you can tell he wants to sit down, maybe get closer, but there's one problem—heeseung, sprawled out like a deadweight, has taken up almost the entire bed. his legs are hanging off the edge, and you’re already sitting on the last bit of available space.

jay hesitates, biting his lip as he steps closer. he looks at you, almost shy, clearly debating whether he should even attempt it.

"there’s, uh… not really anywhere for me to sit," he mutters, his voice low and awkward.

you glance at the bed and can’t help but snicker at the situation. "yeah, heeseung’s kind of hogging all the space, huh?"

jay nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "yeah. guess I’ll just stand."

you look up at him, still teasing, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel a little bad for how awkward this is for him. “well, you could sit, but you’d probably have to, uh… move me.”

jay’s eyes widen slightly, and you can practically see his brain short-circuiting as he processes what you just said. “move you?” he stammers, looking even more unsure of what to do.

“yeah,” you smirk, leaning back a little, enjoying watching him squirm. “unless you want to sit on me, which might be a little… much.”

jay’s face flushes bright red, and he looks at the floor, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate this without combusting from embarrassment. “i’ll… uh, I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, taking another hesitant step closer to the bed.

“you sure?” you tease, watching him struggle. “i don’t bite, jay.”

he swallows hard, still standing awkwardly beside the bed, clearly torn between wanting to sit and not wanting to make things even more awkward than they already are.

jay, clearly at the end of his rope with the awkwardness, finally sighs and says, “can you please move?” his voice is a little hesitant, but there’s a hint of desperation in it, like he’s trying his hardest to keep it together.

you raise an eyebrow, surprised he actually asked, but you can’t help but smile. “oh, so now you’re just kicking me off the bed?” you tease, but there’s no bite in your tone.

“no! no, that’s not… that’s not what I meant,” he stammers, his face flushing even more, clearly mortified at how it came out. “i just—there’s no room and—ugh, never mind.”

he rubs his face with his hands, groaning in frustration, and you realize how much you’ve been teasing him all night. maybe it’s time to ease up.

“alright, alright,” you laugh softly, finally scooting over to the side a bit, making room for him. “relax, jay. i’m just messing with you.”

he looks at you with a mixture of relief and lingering embarrassment as he awkwardly slides onto the bed next to you, carefully avoiding heeseung’s sprawled-out limbs. the bed dips slightly under his weight, and you’re suddenly much closer to him than you expected.

the air between you feels hot again, the teasing fading into something heavier, more serious. you glance over at jay, who’s still looking flustered, but there’s something in his eyes now—something deeper.

"thanks," he mumbles, not quite looking at you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders relax just a little.

"so?" you drawl, your voice teasing, hanging in the air between you two for a moment. but before jay can even process what’s happening, you stand up quickly, the sudden movement causing your perfume to linger in the air around him. it’s intoxicating, and for a second, jay freezes, his heart caught in his throat as he watches you leave the room with a playful smirk and a slam of the door behind you.

he’s left sitting there, staring at the spot where you’d been, his heart sinking for just a moment, thinking maybe that was it. maybe you were done messing with him for the night.

but not even a minute later, you re-enter the room, the sounds of the party still going strong behind you. you’ve got two cups in your hands, and without a word, you walk back over to him, handing one to jay with a small grin.

"here," you say simply, offering the cup.

jay takes it, still looking a little dazed, blinking up at you like he’s trying to piece together what just happened. "uh, thanks," he mutters, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the cup from you. the tension is back—thick and palpable—as you sit back down beside him.

"you thought i was ditching you, didn’t you?" you tease, leaning back against the bedpost, watching his expression closely.

jay chuckles nervously, taking a sip from the cup to steady himself. "maybe a little. i thought i scared you off."

"please," you laugh, shaking your head. "takes more than awkward flirting and heeseung passed out on your bed to scare me away."

he laughs, too, though there’s still that undercurrent of tension. he looks down at his cup, then back at you, his smile softer now. "i’m glad you didn’t."

there’s a beat of silence between you both, you’re sitting close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and for the first time tonight, jay’s not looking away.

"so," you say again, your voice softer this time, but still carrying that teasing edge as you lean just a little closer to him. "you gonna tell me how you got your cherry popped?"

jay practically chokes on his drink, eyes widening as he looks at you in shock. his face flushes a deep red again, and for a moment, you think he might actually implode from sheer embarrassment.

"w-what?!" he stammers, his voice cracking slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. "i… shit—"

you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off before he can finish. "jay, c’mon. i’m not judging you or anything. just… curious. seems like there’s a story here."

he groans, covering his face with one hand, clearly dying inside. "this is so embarrassing," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you’re really not gonna let this go, are you?"

"nope," you grin, taking a sip from your drink, enjoying how flustered he’s getting. "i mean, you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time. it’s only fair I get the details now."

jay exhales sharply, clearly torn between wanting to crawl under a rock and just giving in to your relentless teasing. finally, he lowers his hand, meeting your gaze, though his face is still burning red.

"fine," he mutters, glancing at the floor like he’s trying to find the right words. "but it’s not… it’s not what you think, okay?"

you lean in, eyes glinting with amusement. "oh, now I really wanna hear this."

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable but knowing he’s not getting out of this one. "it was just… one time. with someone I met, like, a few weeks ago," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "it wasn’t a big deal. nothing serious."

"someone you met?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. "was it the girl you’ve been talking to?"

he hesitates, then nods slowly. "yeah, her. but… like I said, it wasn’t serious. just… something that happened." he looks away again, clearly embarrassed, and you can tell he’s trying to downplay it.

you study him for a moment, the teasing smile still on your lips but softening a little. "so, was it good?" you ask, your tone gentler now.

god, you wished you didn’t ask. the moment the question leaves your lips, and jay’s face flushes even deeper, you feel a strange twist in your stomach—an unease that wasn’t there before. sure, you’d been teasing him all night, but now, the answer feels heavier than you expected.

"i mean… yeah?" jay says, his voice awkward, paired with that nervous laugh you’ve grown used to. but there’s something about his response that stings, a strange tightness in your chest as the reality of what you asked settles in.

you force a smile, trying to push through the sudden tension you didn’t expect. "well, congrats on finally joining the club," you say, though your voice lacks its usual bite. shit, why does this feel weird?

jay chuckles, but it’s quieter now. "yeah, well… better late than never, right?"

you nod, taking a long sip from your drink, trying to focus on something else, anything to get rid of this strange feeling gnawing at you. but it’s too late—the image of jay with someone else, feeling that same awkward tension with them, suddenly makes your stomach churn in a way you can’t explain.

you glance at him again, noticing how his eyes avoid yours, his face still red from the conversation. why did i even ask that?

"and you like this girl?" the question leaves your lips before you can think twice about it, hanging in the air between you like a challenge. you’re not sure why you asked, but now that it’s out there, you can’t take it back.

jay looks caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the question. he blinks, taking a deep breath, clearly not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “i mean… I don’t know,” he mutters, looking down at his hands. "again, it just… happened."

the way he says it, casual but unsure, only makes that weird, unsettled feeling in your chest tighten. you nod, trying to play it off, but something about the whole situation is starting to weigh on you.

"just happened, huh?" you say, your voice softer, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite hide.

jay shifts uncomfortably, clearly sensing the shift in your mood. "yeah. we don’t really talk anymore. it was… it didn’t mean much."

you look at him, studying his face for any sign of regret or emotion, but he seems genuinely unsure. it didn’t mean much. that should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. not really. it just leaves more questions hanging between you both—questions neither of you are ready to answer.

"so, no feelings?" you ask, and the words come out a little sharper than you intended.

"no," jay says quickly, his voice steady but cautious. "no feelings. it wasn’t like that."

but then, jay’s expression shifts into one of deep thought, his brow furrowing slightly, but a small smile tugs at his lips as he takes a sip from his drink.

you watch him closely, noticing for the first time how much he’s already had—his glass is halfway done, yet he doesn’t even seem the least bit drunk. except for those bloodshot eyes, you think, startled by how well he’s handling the alcohol. you swore you gave him a strong one, and yet here he is, not even wincing as he swallows.

and just as you're about to comment on it, jay sets his drink down and glances at you, the smile still lingering on his lips. his voice is calm but holds something beneath the surface, something you can’t quite place.

"there is someone i'd like to fuck though."

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets at jay's sudden, blunt confession, the words hanging in the air like a bombshell. what the hell happened to the shy, stammering guy from earlier? he’s sitting there, calm as ever, sipping his drink like he didn’t just drop the most loaded statement of the night.

your heart races, caught between the shock and the possibility that he might be talking about you. he’s been crushing on you for years, right? that’s what you’ve always thought, that underlying tension you’ve both danced around. but now, the way he’s speaking—completely unflustered, so damn confident—has you second-guessing everything. was I wrong? did he get over me?

the room feels like it’s shrinking, trying to read the shift in his demeanor. he’s not the awkward mess you’re used to. he’s subtly changed—grown into something more composed, more sure of himself—and it’s throwing you completely off balance.

"w-whoa, okay, that’s… bold," you manage to say, your voice faltering just a bit. you want to ask him if he’s talking about you, but something about the way he’s sitting there, totally relaxed, makes you hesitate. fuck, am I not the one he’s talking about?

you swallowed thickly, "so…" you start, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays your nervousness. "anyone i know?"

jay tilts his head slightly, his gaze still locked on yours, and for a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something familiar. "yeah," he says simply, his voice smooth and controlled. "you know her pretty well."

the words send your heart racing even faster, and now you’re caught in the middle of two conflicting thoughts: is it me? or has he really moved on?

you force a laugh, trying to break the tension that’s building in the room. "oh, so we’re playing guessing games now?" you say, hoping to keep the conversation light, but there’s a tightness in your chest that won’t go away.

just as you're about to press him further, heeseung suddenly shifts on the bed, letting out a groan as he stirs from his drunken slumber. the sound breaks the moment like a snap, making you both jump slightly.

jay glances at heeseung, his calm demeanor faltering for a second as the distraction pulls him back to reality. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, clearly frustrated by the interruption. he leans over, checking to make sure heeseung isn’t about to puke or do something equally as disastrous.

you, on the other hand, take the opportunity to let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. thank god for heeseung’s terrible timing, you think, but part of you can’t shake the frustration of the conversation being cut short. who the hell is he talking about?

heeseung groans again, rolling onto his back, his arm flopping dramatically over his face. “fuck… what’d I miss?” he slurs, still clearly out of it.

jay sighs, running a hand through his hair as he straightens up. “nothing, man. you’re fine. just… go back to sleep.”

you glance at jay, wondering if he’s relieved by the interruption or annoyed, but it’s hard to tell. his expression has shifted back to neutral, his earlier confidence tucked away behind a mask of casual indifference.

heeseung groans again, clearly not going back to sleep anytime soon, and you watch as jay leans back, his posture more relaxed, though you can tell he’s still tense underneath.

but heeseung, in his half-conscious state, has other plans. "don’t tell me you’re fucking jennie again, i swear to god," he mumbles, his words slurred but loud enough to slice through the tense air in the room.

you freeze, blinking at heeseung's unexpected outburst. jennie? again? your mind races, and you glance at jay, waiting for his reaction.

who the hell is jennie?

jay stiffens, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he quickly looks between you and heeseung. "heeseung," he mutters sharply, "shut up, man. you’re drunk."

"what?" heeseung slurs, barely managing to sit up slightly. "you said you were done. don’t get back into that shit."

jay looks mortified now, his eyes flicking to you, and you can see the panic settling in. great, so there’s another girl in the mix? your stomach tightens at the idea, and suddenly, the confidence he’d been showing earlier makes a lot more sense.

the silence that follows is deafening. you cross your arms, waiting, your heartbeat racing as you stare at jay, demanding an answer without saying a word.

jay clenches his jaw, running his hand through his hair, clearly scrambling to figure out how to explain this without making things worse. but how the fuck do you explain something like that?

the truth—that "jennie" isn’t a person at all, but a branded sex doll jay bought to… well, think of you—is something he could never, ever tell you. even just thinking about it makes his stomach twist. he feels a surge of guilt, embarrassment, and frustration, especially because the way you’re looking at him right now makes it clear you’re already jumping to conclusions.

but there’s no way he can let you keep thinking that jennie is some girl he’s hooking up with. he knows that this is the moment that’ll define the rest of the night and the rest of his life considering you were hanna's best friend and he girl he's loved for ages.

he takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. "it’s… not what you think," he says, his voice strained, clearly aware of how bad this looks but unable to give you the truth just yet.

"no, y/n, no," jay blurts out, his voice more desperate now, standing quickly as you begin to move, forcing a smile as if you're trying to brush off the situation.

"it's fine, jay," you say, though the forced smile on your face doesn’t reach your eyes. "seriously, i do realize it's none of my business, sorry for being too nosy, i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

you stand, fully intending to leave the room, the tension between you both now so thick it’s suffocating. you glance at heeseung, ready to use him as an excuse to get out of there, but before you can, jay reaches out, stopping you with a hand on your arm.

"no, wait," jay says, his voice strained but determined. fuck, he thinks, he has to say something—anything—before this spirals further out of control.

in a panic, jay’s eyes dart to heeseung, who’s still half out of it, sprawled on the bed. without warning, jay leans over and smacks him hard on the leg, making him jerk violently.

"ow, what the—" heeseung yelps, jolting awake, his head spinning as he finally takes in his surroundings. his eyes land on you, and a slow, confused grin spreads across his face. "oh… hey, y/n. didn’t realize you were here," he slurs, rubbing his eyes like he’s just now figuring out where he is.

"yeah, well, i'm here," you say, your voice clipped as you try to hide your frustration. you cross your arms, glancing at jay, who's still standing there, looking like he's barely holding it together.

"heeseung, man, you gotta help me out here," jay mutters under his breath, his hand still lingering on your arm, trying to figure out a way to salvage this whole mess.

heeseung, still half-drunk and confused, blinks at jay before looking between the two of you. "help you out?" he echoes, his voice thick with sleep. "with what?"

"just… don’t say anything else, alright?" jay groans, his face flushing with frustration. he doesn’t know how to explain this without making things worse, but heeseung’s loose tongue is the last thing he needs right now.

heeseung’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to piece it together, but then his face lights up like he’s just remembered something. "ohhh, right! jennie!" he blurts out, still grinning like an idiot.

jay freezes, his hand dropping from your arm, and for a second, he looks like he might actually strangle heeseung.

"yeah, jennie," you say, your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

jay looks at you, his heart sinking. fuck. this is it. if he doesn’t explain this now, it’s over.

"heeseung, get the fuck out," jay snaps, his voice low and tense, frustration finally boiling over.

heeseung blinks at him, clearly still too drunk to understand the gravity of the situation, but even in his drunken state, he seems to realize that jay isn’t messing around. "uh… yeah, okay, man," he mumbles, swinging his legs off the bed and stumbling to his feet, barely managing to stay upright.

"seriously, heeseung, just go," jay adds, his tone sharp, eyes never leaving you as he waits for heeseung to get out of the room.

heeseung, still dazed, finally stumbles toward the door. "alright, alright, i'm going," he slurs, shooting you a sheepish grin as he passes by. "sorry for, uh… y'know." and with that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

the room falls into an unbearable silence, the air between you and jay thick with tension. you stand there, arms crossed, your heart racing, waiting for him to say something—anything to explain this jennie situation.

jay sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks at the floor, clearly struggling with what to say next. "y/n…" he starts, his voice softer now, but still full of nerves. "i need to explain."

"yeah, you do," you say, your voice cold. "because right now, it sounds like there’s some girl named jennie who you’ve been fucking, and you’ve been lying to me about it this whole time."

you didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend or anything, but the words came out sharper than you intended. god, you hadn’t meant it that way, but something about the whole situation got under your skin.

jay, however, didn’t even catch the implication. he was too hyper focused on making sure you didn’t get the wrong idea, too panicked about you thinking there was some actual girl involved. he didn’t even realize you were interested—actually interested—in him.

jay winces at the sharpness in your tone, his face reddening. "no, no… it’s not like that," he says quickly, taking a step toward you. "jennie’s not… she’s not a girl."

you blink, caught off guard by his words. "what do you mean she’s not a girl?"

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly mortified. "she’s, uh… she’s a… sex doll."

your jaw drops, and for a second, you don’t even know how to respond. "a what?" you ask, your voice a mix of disbelief and shock.

jay’s face flushes even deeper. "yeah… i know. it sounds bad. but jennie’s not some girl i’ve been hooking up with. she’s just… this thing i got a while back, and… fuck, this is embarrassing."

the room goes silent again as you process what he just said, your mind racing. a sex doll? you’re not sure if you should laugh or feel weird about it, but suddenly the whole situation takes on a completely different light.

"so… jennie’s a doll?" you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around it.

jay nods, his face still burning red as he glances at you nervously. "yeah. and… it's stupid, i know," he mutters, shifting awkwardly, clearly wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"but i bought it, and… practiced?" his face scrunches up, like he’s wincing just at the thought of admitting it. he starts pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly mortified by what he’s confessing.

"practiced?" you repeat, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. holy shit.

"yeah," jay mutters, his voice tight with embarrassment. he runs his hands through his hair, groaning as the weight of his confession settles in.

"y/n, can you leave? i’ve literally embarrassed myself in front of you, and there’s no way I can ever come back from this. laugh all you want, okay? just not here."

before you can respond, jay’s hands are already on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you toward the door. you’re too caught off guard to protest, still processing everything he just confessed. the awkwardness, the vulnerability, the tension—it’s all hitting you at once, and before you know it, you’re standing just outside his room.

“jay, wait—" you start, but he shakes his head, his face flushed as he tries to avoid eye contact.

"seriously, just go, y/n," he says, his voice rough as he closes the door partway.

he’s clearly mortified, and you can hear it in his voice. it’s not like the shy, awkward jay you’ve known—it’s different. heavier. but before you can say anything else, the door shuts in front of you with a soft click.

you stand there, staring at the closed door, your mind racing. the tension between you, the rawness of jay’s confession—it lingers in the air. you’re not laughing. you’re not even thinking of laughing. all you can think about is the vulnerability in his voice and the weight of everything he just laid out in front of you.

and fuck, if you didn’t find it hot. what the hell?

you’re standing there, outside jay’s door, and the only thing running through your mind is how his vulnerability, the embarrassment, the rawness of it all—it was unexpectedly hot. you bite your lip, feeling your pulse quicken as you replay the conversation in your head.

what the fuck is wrong with me? you should be laughing, cringing, anything but standing here with your heart racing like this. every word jay said, every embarrassed stammer, it’s all stuck in your head. it should feel gross, but fuck, it doesn’t. instead, it’s making your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral.

he’s a pervert, and it’s making you wet. you’re standing here, outside his room, thinking about jennie.

your body reacts in a way you didn’t expect, and you hate it, but you can’t stop it. your mind runs wild with questions, wanting to know everything. what gets him off, what he’s into. this wasn’t the night you planned, but the way you feel now? you can't deny it. it’s wrong, but it’s fucking hot.

you knock on the door, breath shallow, your body betraying you as you try to get a grip. jay’s voice comes from the other side, shaky and tired, “y/n, just… go. please.”

the words hit harder than you expect. he doesn’t even open the door. he just shuts you out.

what did you expect? you think, backing away, feeling the sting of rejection. you pushed too hard. maybe he’s just too mortified to deal with it, maybe he thinks he’s fucked things up beyond repair. either way, he told you to leave, and you have no choice but to walk away.

you step back, away from his door, your pulse still hammering in your chest. you start to walk, heading back to the party, but your mind is still on jay—on everything he didn’t say, on everything you didn’t get to hear. fuck.

the following days, jay avoided you like the plague, barely making eye contact, leaving rooms when you entered, keeping his distance like he couldn’t bear to be near you. but it did nothing to stop the way your thoughts kept drifting back to that night. if anything, his avoidance only made it worse, made you obsess over it even more.

you couldn’t stop thinking about him—about what he’d confessed, about the doll, about what he wasn’t telling you.

you even googled the jennie brand, desperate to understand more about what jay had been using, what he had been thinking about all this time. and fuck, the results sent you spiraling. there were all sorts of types—full body, partial torsos, hyper-realistic models with intricate details.

it was almost overwhelming, seeing just how many versions there were. some were life-sized, some were just the lower half, and the descriptions made it clear these things were made to feel as close to real as possible.

your mind ran wild, picturing jay with one of them. which one did he get? was it a full-sized model that he could hold, position, fuck like it was real?

you couldn't stop yourself from imagining it—him in his room, with that doll, your name on his lips while he fucked it. your pulse quickened, your body betraying you with how much this idea turned you on. what the fuck is wrong with me? but you couldn’t stop. the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to know everything.

and the more jay avoided you, the worse it got. it wasn’t just the doll—it was him, everything he’d been hiding. fuck, you needed to talk to him, to get him to open up again,

you were helping hanna load some groceries into the kitchen, bags of chips, bottles of tequila, mixers—everything you’d expect for one of her infamous parties. she was chattering away about the guest list when she suddenly paused, her face scrunching up.

"shit," she muttered, checking her phone. "i forgot the lemons for the tequila shots."

you raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. “kinda essential for tequila, don’t you think?”

hanna sighed dramatically, already grabbing her keys off the counter. “i know, i know. i’m such a mess. i’ll run to the store real quick and grab them. you cool here for a bit?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone casual as you asked, “is jay home?”

hanna paused, looking over her shoulder. “nah, he’s not. he’s been out doing… whatever, avoiding people, i guess.” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “he’s been acting weird lately.”

weird, you thought. yeah, no shit.

"i’ll be back in an hour tops!" hanna called, heading out the door. as soon as it closed behind her, the house fell into a thick, heavy silence. you stood there in the kitchen for a moment, hands on the counter, the weight of everything suddenly pressing down on you.

jay’s not home. your heart raced at the thought.

your eyes flicked toward the hallway, where his room was. you knew you shouldn’t. this is wrong, you told yourself. but your curiosity had been eating at you for days—about him, about jennie, about what exactly jay had been hiding.

and now, here you were, in his house, alone. the temptation was gnawing at you, pulling you toward his room.

just a quick look, you rationalized, biting your lip. your feet moved before your brain could stop you, carrying you down the hallway, closer to jay’s door. you reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment as your heart pounded in your chest.

your mind continued to pull you in different directions, don’t do this. this is wrong. but fuck, you couldn’t help it. the need to know, to see for yourself, was too strong.

you twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. jay’s room was neat, not surprising, the clothes draped over the back of a chair and shoe boxes placeed neatly on one of his dressers, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. but what caught your attention was the nightstand next to his bed.

your pulse quickened as you stepped further into the room, your eyes locking onto the drawer. could it be in there?

you knew it was wrong but your hands were already moving, your fingers curling around the drawer handle, tugging it open.

you felt a surge of frustration as you rummaged through jay’s room, your heart pounding in your chest. where the fuck is it? you’d already checked the nightstand—nothing. under the bed? completely spotless, not even a speck of dust. goddamn, jay was keeping his room way cleaner than yours, that’s for sure.

your mind raced as you stood there, the last possible place calling out to you—his closet. you bit your lip, knowing you were going too far, but the curiosity was killing you. you couldn’t let it go. you stepped over to the closet and pulled the door open, trying to shuffle through the clothes without making it obvious that someone had been snooping.

the scent of his clothes hit you all at once, that familiar cologne mixed with something purely jay, and god, it went straight to your core. without thinking, you grabbed one of his shirts and brought it up to your nose, inhaling deeply.

what the fuck is wrong with you? you felt a wave of heat rush through you, your body reacting to the smell of him, the idea of him—the thought of what he does when he’s alone in here.

your fingers brushed against more hangers, searching, but with every passing second, you were losing hope. maybe he got rid of it, you thought, feeling a pang of disappointment. heeseung did say he threw it away. maybe he was too embarrassed to keep it after all that.

you sighed, letting go of the shirt as you stepped back from the closet. fuck, what were you even hoping to find? maybe this was all a mistake.

just then, your thoughts were cut short by the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut. your heart jumped into your throat. no way that’s hanna—the store was like thirty minutes away. it was impossible for her to be back already.

panic set in immediately. shit, shit, shit. you froze in place for a second, your mind racing as you tried to figure out what to do. you couldn’t let jay find you here, rummaging through his room like some creep.

your heart pounded in your chest as you heard jay’s footsteps nearing. you barely had time to think, instincts kicking in as you quickly darted toward the closet.

you slipped inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible, your breath shaky. good thing this closet has gaps between the wooden slats, you thought, praying he wouldn’t notice anything out of place.

your body was pressed tight against his clothes, the lingering scent of him overwhelming your senses again. the heat between your legs intensified as you tried to focus, tried to calm your racing heart, but it was impossible. the thrill of being caught, the tension in the air—it was all too much.

from your hiding spot, you could see through the narrow slits, watching as jay entered the room. his face was unreadable, but he didn’t look happy. he seemed tense, he stood in the middle of the room for a moment, eyes scanning the area.

shit, shit. you held your breath, trying to stay as still as possible, your body pressed up against his hanging clothes. your mind raced, wondering if he knew—if somehow, he could sense that you’d been snooping, that you were still in here.

jay walked over to the nightstand, his back turned to you as he opened the drawer, rifling through it like he was looking for something. his movements were quick, agitated, and for a moment, you thought maybe he was going to leave again.

but instead, he stood there, his hand lingering on the edge of the nightstand, his shoulders tense. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t hear it.

you swallowed hard, biting your lip as you watched him, your heart still racing. does he know? you had no idea what was going to happen next, but the anticipation, the danger of it, was making your entire body hum with tension.

jay didn’t seem to notice anything suspicious at all, his tension dissolving when his phone buzzed in his pocket. you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your ears as the sound felt too loud in the cramped closet space.

your hand instinctively clasped over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your own breathing. shit, calm down, you told yourself, but fuck, it felt like you were going to give yourself away any second.

"yeah?" jay answered, voice low, irritation lacing his tone.

heeseung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for you to catch snippets of the conversation. “dude, what the fuck? you ditched class without even telling me? we could’ve bailed together!”

jay sighed heavily, clearly agitated. "i didn’t want to hang out. i just want to be alone right now."

you watched through the narrow slits of the closet door as jay pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth in frustration. fuck, this was a disaster.

you were crouched in his closet like a fucking lunatic, and the tension was making everything worse. jay's mood, your presence, the fact that he didn’t know you were right there—it all made the air thicker, heavier.

"yeah, well, next time fucking tell me, man," heeseung barked, clearly pissed. "you’re being weird as shit lately."

"i’m fine," jay snapped, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. "i just need some space."

you could feel his agitation rolling off him in waves, making you hold your breath even harder, terrified that one wrong move would give you away. his words stung more than you wanted to admit. space. was this because of you?

jay ended the call with a sharp "later," his frustration palpable as he tossed his phone onto the bed. the device landed with a soft thud, but you were too focused on him to care about anything else.

with a grunt, jay slung his backpack off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. he stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his agitation visible in every tense movement of his body. then, without warning, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.

you froze, your eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. damn. jay was lean, muscles subtly defined in a way that caught you off guard. the soft light in the room highlighted the curve of his shoulders, the smooth skin of his back, the way his chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. your heart pounded harder as you stared, the heat between your legs intensifying.

it was impossible not to gawk at him. he was right there, shirtless, and you were hidden just a few feet away, watching like some kind of perverted voyeur.

jay muttered something under his breath, clearly still pissed about the call with heeseung, but you weren’t paying attention to his words. all you could focus on was his body, the way his muscles shifted as he moved. you bit your lip hard, trying to keep from making any noise, trying to control your breathing as your gaze roamed over him.

your thoughts were racing, a whirlwind of desire and guilt and sheer panic that he might catch you at any moment.

jay moved across the room, and you snapped out of your daze just in time to see him reach down toward the bottom of his dresser. is that a shoe box? you squinted, straining to see what the hell he was doing, still trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible in your cramped hiding spot.

he pulled out the box, staring at it for a moment before he opened the lid, revealing something inside that you couldn’t quite see from your angle. but whatever it was, it clearly rattled him.

“fucking hell,” jay muttered under his breath, the frustration clear in his voice. he stared down at the item inside the box like it held some kind of power over him, like just seeing it brought all that pent-up emotion crashing to the surface.

your heart pounded in your chest, curiosity eating away at you. what the hell is in that box? you bit your lip, your mind racing. it had to be something personal, something connected to everything he’d been hiding. your pulse quickened even more, your thoughts spinning wildly.

was that it? jennie?

jay ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling sharply, his body tense as if he were warring with himself internally. you could see the weight of whatever was going on inside his head, the way he seemed on edge, like he was at his breaking point.

you stayed perfectly still, not daring to move, not daring to make a sound. your heart was racing, your body reacting in ways you didn’t expect, torn between the thrill of being this close to his secret and the realization that you were seeing a side of jay no one else had.

jay pulled it out of the box, and fuck, there it was—jennie. the damn sex doll. except, it wasn’t a full-sized model like you’d imagined. it was just the lower half, tiny, just the silicone molded vagina and ass, small enough to fit in his hands.

your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him stare at it, almost like he was examining it for the first time. the way he looked at it—fuck, it was like nostalgia, like there were memories attached to this goddamn thing.

the little breath he let out, the way he turned it over in his hands, the silicone object slightly bouncing as he held it—was he going to use it?

your jaw dropped, hypnotized.

jay's fingers moved slowly, spreading the lips of the doll’s pussy open, staring inside like he was mesmerized. oh my god. your breath caught in your throat, trembling as you watched, his hands stretching the silicone flesh, spreading it as if he was testing its elasticity.

your entire body froze, torn between the raw arousal pooling deep in your core and the sheer disbelief that you were witnessing this. what the fuck, that was so hot for no reason.

your breath caught in your throat, and you nearly let out a whimper as you watched jay slide two fingers into the silicone flesh, stroking it slowly. the sight was enough to send a wave of heat straight through you, pooling between your legs. his fingers moved with practiced ease, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, like he knew exactly how to make it feel real, even though it was just a damn toy.

fuck, you thought, your entire body trembling. he’s really doing it.

jay’s face was focused, almost intent, as he worked his fingers inside the doll, his jaw clenched like he was trying to keep his composure. the little noises of the silicone as he moved—it was fucking obscene, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away. every part of your body felt like it was on fire, like the tension was going to drive you over the edge just from watching him.

his thumb brushed over the entrance, spreading the lips wider as his fingers pushed deeper, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound.

the image of him, fingers deep inside that tiny doll, stroking it like he was getting ready for more—your breath shallow as you tried to stay perfectly still, terrified of making any noise, but it was so hard not to react.

your body was betraying you, the heat between your legs making you press your thighs together, desperate for relief. you were watching something so raw, so private, and the fact that you were witnessing it in secret only made it worse.

jay sighed, pulling his fingers out of the doll, the slick noise almost too loud in the quiet room. as he moved to the bed, still holding jennie in his hands. he didn’t rush; there was something methodical about the way he moved, like this was just another routine. he laid back against the headboard, his shirtless body stretched out, the sex doll resting casually on his stomach, like it was no big deal.

your mind was spinning. fuck, he was just lounging there, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a tiny fucking sex doll laying on top of him. your legs trembled, heat coursing through you as you tried to comprehend the absurdity of it all, but also how insanely hot it was in a way you couldn’t explain.

his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of the silicone, stroking it occasionally while he scrolled through whatever was on his phone. his face was relaxed, almost casual, like this was something he did often—just him and the fucking doll. your body was betraying you again, the throb between your legs becoming unbearable as you watched him, completely mesmerized.

you watched, barely able to breathe, as he smiled slightly at something on his phone. his thumbs moved quickly, typing away—probably responding to something or commenting on a post.

then you heard it: heeseung’s voice, loud and obnoxious, screaming some game jargon, the sounds of gunfire and explosions cutting through the air. of course, you thought, recognizing the chaos. heeseung had probably posted some video of his latest gameplay, and jay seemed to be getting a kick out of it.

then, suddenly, jay’s face grew somber, and you froze in place, holding your breath. your heart nearly stopped when you heard your own voice boom from his phone.

"LET’S PARTYY!!" you and hanna’s voices echoed, loud and clear—it was the video you’d posted earlier when you were out shopping for tonight, holding bottles of tequila, grinning like idiots. oh no, you thought, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. he was watching your story.

his expression shifted, his smile fading into something more complicated, like he was torn between emotions he wasn’t sure how to process. you saw him sigh, his fingers pausing as he stared at the screen for a moment, biting his lip in thought. his eyes then darted down to jennie—and your breath hitched when you saw him squeeze the silicone doll tighter, his knuckles whitening slightly.

shit, you thought, trembling, feeling a rush of heat go straight through you as you watched him. the weight of everything became almost unbearable. he’s thinking about you. you could feel it. he was sitting there, staring at your story, your voice ringing in his ears, and here he was, gripping the fucking sex doll as if that could somehow make the tension inside him go away

and just like that, jay cursed under his breath before shoving his phone aside and ridding himself of his pants in one swift motion. "y/n," he groaned, the sound muffled as he buried his face in his pillow. your name on his lips, so raw, sent a shockwave through you that made your entire body tremble. fuck.

he shifted onto his stomach, laying there with jennie still clutched in his hands, bringing it closer to his face. you could see the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, like he was trying to keep control but couldn’t. his fingers traced over the silicone as if it were you, his frustration and desire clear in every movement. he still scrolled through his phone for a moment, but it was aimless now, just something to distract him while the thoughts in his head spun out of control.

he groaned your name again, this time a little louder, his breath ragged as he gripped jennie tighter. your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it, your entire body frozen as you watched, hidden in the closet. the tension in the room, the raw desire spilling from him.

you almost gagged, your hand instinctively flying to your mouth as you watched jay shamelessly dive in, pressing his face against the silicone pussy lips of the doll.

he licked it, his eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, like he was imagining it was you instead. the sound of him sighing in satisfaction, mixed with the obscene wet noises from the doll, sent a shiver through your spine.

jay was fully immersed, his body tense and rigid as he buried his face deeper, licking slowly and deliberately, like he was savoring every second of it. his hands gripped jennie tightly, pulling it closer as if he couldn’t get enough, his lips dragging over the silicone with such intensity that it made your stomach twist. fuck, he’s really into this.

you could see it on his face—eyes shut tight like he was lost in some fantasy he couldn’t pull himself out of.

jay groaned again, shifting suddenly as if the pressure inside him had built up too much. with a strangled grunt, he propped himself up on his knees, reaching for something on his nightstand. your breath hitched when you saw the bottle in his hands—lube. fuck, how had you missed that? the bottle wasn’t even labeled, just some clear liquid, but jay handled it with ease, like this was routine. wow, subtle, you thought, biting your lip as you watched.

he squeezed a generous amount into his palm, slicking it over jennie with slow, deliberate movements. his fingers teased the silicone clit, even flicking it as he smothered the doll in lube, his breathing growing heavier. when he slipped his fingers back in, he let out a dreamy sigh, his head tilting back slightly, lost in the sensation.

and then, finally, jay pulled his cock out. your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. god, he was big. thick, meaty, his cock slapping against his lower stomach with a heavy, wet sound. he was neatly groomed, the veins running down his shaft prominent, and the sight of him—so raw, so exposed—made your head spin.

your pulse raced as you watched him stroke himself, his fingers spreading the lube over his cock, making it glisten in the low light of his room. every movement was slow, and fuck, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. the heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body reacting to every single detail, to the way his muscles flexed, the way his breath hitched as he touched himself.

jay lined himself up with jennie, groaning your name under his breath again, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

"y/n," jay moaned, the sound of your name falling from his lips as he hovered over jennie, teasing the head of his cock against the slick, wet folds of the doll. "shit, you want it?" he groaned, his voice low and strained, full of pent-up desire.

your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between your legs unbearable as you watched him, his movements slow, teasing. your fingers trembled as they slid down, almost against your will, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

the sight of him, the way he was moaning your name, the way he was fucking thinking about you—it was driving you insane.

jay bit his lip, his body tense as he pushed just the tip inside, groaning louder as his hips shifted. "fuck, y/n, you’d feel so good around me," he murmured, his words making your breath hitch. your fingers moved instinctively, rubbing against your aching clit as you watched him, your body desperate for release.

you couldn’t stop. you were caught in the heat of the moment, every word he said, every movement of his hips, making your entire body throb with need. his hand gripped the base of his cock as he slowly slid deeper into the doll, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet room.

your body on fire as you mirrored his movements, your fingers working faster against yourself.

"god, y/n," jay groaned, his hips moved in a slow, almost torturous rhythm, his cock disappearing into the slick silicone, but all he could think about was how you’d feel wrapped around him. his head tipped back, eyes closed, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

"you're so fucking good," jay moaned, his voice ragged as he thrust deeper into jennie, but in his mind, it was you. every movement, every sound, was for you.

your fingers moved faster, desperate now, matching the pace of his thrusts. the way he was groaning your name, the raw need in his voice.

"fuck, y/n," jay groaned, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as he sped up, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. "you’d take me so good, wouldn’t you?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. he was losing himself.

you bit your lip, trying to keep from making a sound as you continued to watch him. his back arched, muscles flexing as he pumped faster, harder, the wet sounds of him fucking jennie filling the room. your name fell from his lips again, a low growl, and it sent a shiver straight through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

you’re so fucking good, his voice echoing in your head.

jay whimpered, his pace growing faster, more desperate, the bed creaking beneath him as his hips snapped forward. you could practically see the head of his cock pushing so deep into the tiny silicone hole that it nearly bulged through the other side. he was literally fucking through the damn thing.

you imagined what it would be like if he were inside you instead. if he could do that to a toy, what would it feel like to have him that deep, to be stretched out around him?

he let out another strangled moan, his hands gripping the doll tighter as he drove himself harder, his entire body trembling.

"y/n- shit, fuck yeah," he groaned, his voice shaking, and the way he said your name made your body ache. if he was inside you, he’d ruin you, fuck you so deep you’d feel him everywhere, fill you up until you couldn’t take anymore. the thought made your thighs clench together, your fingers moving faster as you imagined him pounding into you, that same desperate need in his voice.

"you’d take it, wouldn’t you?" he panted, his breath ragged, his hips slamming against jennie as his cock drove deeper. "like how i'm stretching you out? sunghoon could never fuck you like this."

"you want my cum?" jay groaned, you were drenched, the heat between your legs unbearable as you imagined being in jennie's position, taking every inch of him, his cock stretching you out, filling you up.

your hand shook as you carefully pulled down your cotton shorts and panties, your heart racing with the fear of being caught but too far gone to stop. you leaned back, pressing into his coats to muffle any noise you might make. the soft fabric cushioned your body, but your mind was miles away, completely fixated on jay—his moans, his body, the way he was losing himself.

you were dripping, your fingers sliding through your slickness, the pressure building as you bit down hard on the edge of your shirt, using it to stifle any noise that might slip out. so fucking close, to being caught driving you wild.

through the gaps in the wooden slats, you peeked at him, his muscles straining as he thrust harder. "love my cock?" he panted, his voice thick and desperate, "yeah, i always fill you up so good don't i? tell me you fucking love it."

your body jerked as his words sent shockwaves through you, you could almost feel him inside you.

jay’s hips snapped forward again, his breaths ragged as he neared the edge. he’s close, you thought, biting harder into your shirt, your body shaking as you rode the edge with him, knowing you were about to fall apart just as he was.

"gonna let me cum inside that pussy, huh? you want it?" jay's voice was rough, desperate, the words pushing you over the edge as your fingers thrust in and out of your soaked cunt. your eyes squeezed shut, your body trembling as you lost yourself in the fantasy of him filling you up, his cock stretching you just like he was with jennie.

but then, without thinking, you let out a soft, breathless moan. "please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

shit.

the sound hung in the air, and in an instant, everything stopped. the wet, obscene sounds of jay fucking the doll, his grunts and heavy breathing—all of it came to a sudden halt.

your heart dropped, panic flooding your body as you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes flying open in shock.

you totally fucked up, your breath caught in your throat as you stayed completely still, frozen in place, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t heard you.

but it was too late. you could hear jay shift, the silence between you deafening. his breathing had changed—quieter, more alert.

"who’s there?" his voice was low, edged with confusion, and you knew he had heard you. you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, your entire body trembling with fear and embarrassment.

you heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling—jay was moving, probably scrambling to put some clothes on. panic seized you, and you dug yourself deeper into the closet, your body pressing against the fabric of his coats in a pathetic attempt to hide. your heart raced, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it through the door.

then, the closet door creaked open slowly, and your eyes went wide in sheer terror. jay stood there, half-naked, only in his boxers, a fucking bat clutched in one hand. his hair was a mess, his chest still glistening with sweat, but the most absurd part was that his cock was still hard, tenting his boxers like he hadn’t come down from the moment at all.

"who the fuck is in here?" his voice was low, edged with tension as his eyes scanned the closet. he hadn’t spotted you yet, but it was only a matter of time. your entire body trembled, pressed against the back of the closet, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

and then, his eyes landed on you.

jay froze, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer disbelief. "y/n?" his voice cracked slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. the bat lowered, forgotten in his hand as his brain struggled to catch up.

you were caught—there was no way out now.

jay’s eyes locked onto yours, and in that split second, the disbelief on his face morphed into something darker—something between confusion, anger, and sheer disbelief.

“y/n,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. he let the bat drop to the floor with a dull thud, stepping closer to where you were crouched, his broad, still-sweaty chest rising and falling heavily. his body towered over you, cock still rock-hard and tenting his boxers, the tension in the room suffocating.

“what the fuck are you doing in my closet?” his voice was tight, like he was holding back a storm of emotions—rage, shock, but there was something else too. desire. his eyes flickered with it, almost daring you to explain yourself.

you were trembling, mouth dry, scrambling for words but coming up with nothing. fuck, you were pinned in place, completely trapped. his messy hair, the wild look in his eyes, the way his body practically radiated heat—it all made the situation unbearable. you swallowed hard, still pressing yourself further against the coats, like there was anywhere to hide now.

“i… i heard something,” you stammered, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, especially as his gaze dropped to your shorts, which were still tangled around your thighs. the way his eyes darkened when he saw how exposed you were sent a wave of humiliation and arousal crashing over you.

“bullshit.” jay’s voice was thick, his body stepping closer, looming over you. “you were fucking watching me, weren’t you?” his tone was accusatory, but it wasn’t just anger. you could hear the edge of it—the thrill. he was piecing everything together, and as the realization set in, his breathing deepened, his cock twitching in his boxers.

you tried to speak, to deny it, but your voice caught in your throat as he crouched down, his face inches from yours now. “you were hiding in my closet, getting off while I fucked a doll, and now you’re trying to pretend you weren’t?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with something dark and dangerous.

"sorry, i know how this looks," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of the moment crashes down on you. your words hang in the air, fragile and trembling as you watch him, feeling the heat radiating off his body. but it’s not enough—not even close—to stop what’s about to happen.

jay’s gaze darkens, his eyes lowering, and then he sees it—really sees it. your shorts are pulled down mid-thigh, your panties already pushed to the side, leaving nothing to the imagination. the briefest glimpse of your pussy lips catches his eye, and you can see his jaw clench. his face tightens, and for a second, he just stares before rolling his eyes, like the fucked-up situation had just reached another level.

“fuck,” jay mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process what he’s seeing.

“you’re… unbelievable,” he says, voice tight as his eyes roam over your body. it’s not judgmental, not anymore. it’s a mixture of frustration and desire, the kind that’s simmering just under the surface, waiting to explode. “i thought i was fucked up… but this?”

his hand twitches at his side like he’s debating what to do, but you can tell—he’s already made up his mind. the heat between you two is undeniable, and shit, you can feel the way your own body is betraying you, the slickness between your thighs only making this more intense.

“come here,” jay growled, his voice rough, commanding, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. his dick was still straining hard against his boxers, thick and heavy, the outline so obvious it made your breath hitch.

your mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing clicked. this was jay—the same jay who blushes when he talks to you, who’s always awkward and shy—and now look at him. his eyes were dark, filled with something so raw and intense that it made your stomach churn with a twisted kind of excitement.

you were practically shaking the whole time, and you didn’t know if it was from fear or the undeniable desire coiling tighter and tighter inside of you. you should be running. you should be pulling up your shorts, getting the hell out of here. but you couldn’t. not when his eyes were locked onto you like that.

“what are you waiting for?” jay’s voice was low, dangerous, and fuck, it sent shivers down your spine. his tone, his body language—he was different now, no longer the blushing boy who used to fumble his words around you. this was the real him, the one who’d been hiding beneath that awkward exterior all this time.

you swallowed hard, your legs feeling weak as you stood there—your pussy still slick, the heat pooling deep inside you, pulsing with the same desire you could see in jay’s eyes.

“i’m not asking again,” jay said, his voice tightening, frustration and need clear on his face.

jay walked back to his bed, each step deliberate, slow, like he was giving you time to take in what was happening. he sat down on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto yours. his gaze was intense, unwavering, filled with something raw and predatory.

“sit here with me,” he said, his voice low, steady, but there was a challenge in it. the way he was looking at you—it made your pulse race, your legs feel like jelly.

part of you screamed to leave, to stop this before it went too far, but another part of you—the bigger part—wanted nothing more than to follow him, to see where this would lead.

jay’s cock was still straining against his boxers, the outline prominent as he sat there, waiting, daring you to close the space between you. his eyes flicked down to your exposed thighs, taking in how your panties were still pulled to the side, how ready you were, and his lips twitched, almost like he knew what was going through your head.

the way he was looking at you, commanding you without even having to raise his voice—it made your entire body ache. your heart pounded in your chest as you hesitated for a moment, your legs trembling as you took a shaky step forward.

jay didn’t move, just watched you intently, his elbows still resting on his knees, waiting. “closer,” he muttered, his voice even rougher now, his patience running thin.

and without even thinking, you moved. you reached down, hands shaking as you tried to pull your shorts back up, the embarrassment burning your face. your mind screamed, but your body was on autopilot. you were halfway there, about to cover yourself up, when jay’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

you couldn’t even dare to look at him, feeling the weight of embarrassment swallowing you whole, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

jay’s hands hovered over your thighs, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. his breath was deep, ragged, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to believe this was really happening. fuck, it was like he couldn’t even believe you were standing in front of him, shorts halfway down, so vulnerable, so exposed.

“stop. don’t pull them up.”

his words were sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument. your hands froze, still gripping the waistband of your shorts, your breath catching in your throat. the intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you slowly let go of the fabric, letting your shorts hang awkwardly around your hips.

jay’s gaze was dark, hungry, roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. his eyes lingered on the space between your thighs, the way your panties were still askew, showing more than you ever meant to. he leaned back slightly, his elbows still on his knees, but his entire posture screamed control.

“come here,” he said again, softer this time, but no less demanding

his eyes flickered, tracing every inch of your body, and for a split second, you could see it in his face—the disbelief, the hunger, the way he was completely entranced by you. his fingers twitching as they hovered near your thighs, like he was waiting for permission, like he was afraid to break the moment.

and then his eyes dropped lower, down between your legs. could he smell how wet you were?

the realization hit you hard, making your entire body burn with humiliation and need. you were soaked, dripping with arousal, and it was impossible to hide. his breathing deepened even more, nostrils flaring as his eyes darkened, the tension between you snapping tight like a rubber band about to break.

“fuck,” jay muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained, almost reverent as he took you in. his fingers finally grazed the soft skin of your thigh, so gentle it almost didn’t feel real. “you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured.

jay’s hands moved with purpose now, one of them sliding between your thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you were dripping. his other hand gripped your inner thigh firmly, pushing it to the side, spreading you open to get a better view. fuck, his eyes darkened as he stared, taking in the sight of you exposed for him.

his thumb brushed over the slick fabric of your panties, grazing your swollen lips, and the sensation sent a shockwave through your body. your breath hitched, your legs trembling as you tried to stay steady, but it was impossible with the way he was touching you, the way his gaze devoured every inch of you.

the embarrassment, the intensity of the moment—it was too much, but fuck, you wanted more.

"care to tell me why you were spying on me?" jay muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his thumb grazed your slick skin. the sensation made you tremble, your legs barely holding you steady. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he stared up at you, his eyes dark with amusement and lust.

"i'm dying to know," he added, his voice low, teasing, as his thumb pressed harder, sliding against your swollen clit.

you couldn’t speak, your mind spinning from the intensity of his touch, from the weight of his question. you knew he could see exactly how much you wanted this—even though you shouldn’t.

"i… i'm sorry…" you stammered as jay’s thumb circled your clit again, sending shockwaves through you, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

he smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how much control he had over you in this moment. "come on," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "you can do better than that, can’t you? tell me why you were spying on me."

your breath hitched, your mind spinning, but all you could feel was his hand between your thighs, the slick heat pooling there, and the way he was pushing you to the edge.

"i said i’m sorry," you whispered, your voice shaky, barely able to get the words out as jay’s thumb pressed harder on your clit.

jay’s smirk widened, his fingers still working you over, teasing you relentlessly. "sorry doesn’t explain why you were spying on me," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his other hand gripped your thigh tighter, keeping you in place. "but I guess I don’t mind the answer as long as you keep squirming like this."

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, eyes flickering with something darker. "go on, tell me more. unless you’d rather just show me how sorry you are."

"fuck, jay, wait," you gasped, trying to shove his arms away, panic and pleasure swirling together as your hands pushed against him. but jay was stronger, his grip firm and unyielding as he fought against your weak attempts to stop him. his fingers dug into your thigh, pulling you closer, nearly making you stumble, but before you could find your footing, he locked your thighs in his arms, trapping you in place.

your heart raced, and you barely managed to steady yourself by planting one foot on the edge of his bed. the shift in position sent a jolt of heat through your body, his face dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed.

"you’re not going anywhere," jay muttered, voice low and dark, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he held you there, his grip relentless.

"i'm waiting," jay growled, his voice low and dripping with impatience as his fingers gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer. "tell me, why were you spying on me?"

"did you like it?" jay asked, his voice rough with desire as he leaned closer, his grip on your thighs tightening. "how I fucked jennie?"

the question hit you like a shockwave, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even look at him.

he smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you, the way you were unable to form words. "yeah," he muttered, his voice dark and taunting. "i think you did. the way you were watching, hiding in my closet, getting yourself off. you liked it, didn’t you?"

your body responded even as your mind screamed for control, the heat between your legs pulsing harder with each word he said.

"wow, aren’t you confident," you managed to say, but your voice shook, the words were meant to sound teasing, defiant, but they came out weak, unconvincing as you tried to regain some control over the situation.

jay’s smirk only deepened at your pathetic attempt to push back. his eyes were locked on you, dark and full of desire. "oh, come on," he muttered, voice low and mocking as his hands traced your trembling thighs. "don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy every fucking second."

his fingers slid dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed, making your breath hitch. "i can feel how much you liked it," he continued, voice rougher now. "you’re soaking, and all because you watched me fuck a toy, imagining it was you."

"but it was me," you weakly bite back, the words barely leaving your lips as your body trembled under his touch.

jay's fingers, which had been teasing your pussy, suddenly stilled. he pulled them back slowly, staring at you with disbelief, his jaw clenched tight. "you are so fucking unbelievable," he growled, voice low and thick with frustration.

then, without warning, he thrust a finger into you roughly, but the slickness of your folds made it glide in smoothly, the feeling almost too good. you let out a shaky breath, your body arching toward him involuntarily.

"first," he hissed, his voice full of raw intensity, "you make me fucking admit that I jack myself off with a sex doll, just for you. the person I've been wanting for years now, making me feel like a fucking loser. embarrassed. fucking ashamed. like I'm some kind of pervert."

his finger flicked deeper inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core, and you gasped, biting your lip hard to keep from crying out.

"and then you," he continued, his words dripping with disbelief and lust, "you end up in my closet, watching me. are you a fucking perv, too?"

yes, you thought, the word echoing in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

jay’s eyes bore into you, his finger still buried deep inside you, but he wasn’t moving, just staring, his voice low and dangerous as he asked, “are you here to embarrass me? is that it? is that why you were spying on me—to make fun of me?”

his words cut deep, and you could feel the weight of his frustration, the vulnerability he’d just exposed to you twisted into something dark. he thought you were here to humiliate him? but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. you didn’t know how to explain that this wasn’t about making fun of him—it was about something far more fucked up.

“because you know about my stupid crush on you, right?” jay’s voice was dripping with frustration, his finger still inside you, but unmoving. “is this your way of getting back at me? laughing at how pathetic i am? you think it's funny?”

his words stung, his tone laced with anger and vulnerability, he thought you were here to humiliate him, to make fun of the fact that he had been harboring a crush on you for years. that all of this—his shame, his embarrassment—was something you found amusing. fuck, you could see it in his eyes, how much this hurt him, how much he thought you were here to tear him apart.

"jay, no," you finally whispered, your voice shaky, barely audible. "i didn’t come here to make fun of you." your breath was catching in your throat, the shame in his voice cutting through you, making your heart ache. "it’s not like that… i—"

but before you could finish, his finger twitched inside you, rougher this time, and you gasped, your body betraying you once again, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "then what the fuck is it, huh?" his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a mix of anger and lust, his eyes narrowing. "you wanna tell me what the fuck this is, if it’s not to humiliate me?" "i got curious," you hiccuped, your voice shaky, barely holding together under the weight of the moment. "i… never thought it was funny… i thought it was hot."

"i wanted to know what jennie looked like… what you were into… i… shit—" you struggled to get the words out, your breath catching as jay's fingers twitched inside you again, this time with more intent.

your voice trembled, barely holding it together as you tried to explain. "i wanted to know what turned you on." the words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and honest, cutting through the tension like a blade. your heart pounded in your chest as jay froze, his eyes widening just slightly, disbelief flickering across his face.

"what?" he growled, his voice low, rough, the anger starting to shift into something else entirely. his finger inside you twitched, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration—it was from the shock of your confession.

"i thought it was fucking hot," you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath, the shame still heavy but mixed with the undeniable arousal coursing through you. "watching you… thinking about how badly you wanted me. fuck, jay… i wanted it, too."

"i'm just a loser, aren't i?" jay’s voice was rough, his breath heavy as his fingers curled inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. "why would you…?" he trailed off, his voice breaking slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying, or what was happening between the two of you.

"the way you ignored me for years," jay muttered, his voice strained with a mix of frustration and something deeper, rawer. "i liked you so much, y/n. fuck. you made me so fucking nervous." his fingers stilled inside you for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, full of emotions he had clearly been holding back for too long.

you shook your head, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as his thumb rubbed your clit, pushing you further toward the edge. "you’re not a loser," you whispered, your voice shaky, trying to hold on to whatever control you had left. "fuck, jay, I never thought that."

"do you promise you're not just here because you wanted to see how pathetic I am?" jay's voice cracked slightly, and when you looked at him, you saw his eyes were glassy, tears he was trying so hard to hold back. the sight of him like that—so vulnerable, so raw—made your chest tighten.

you frowned, shaking your head, your heart breaking at the thought that he believed that. "jay, no… it’s not like that," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "i swear. i’m not here to make you feel like shit. i’m not here to laugh at you."

his fingers loosened their grip on your thigh, his expression faltering as he struggled to process your words. you could see the pain etched across his face, years of doubt and self-loathing surfacing in that one question.

his hands loosened their grip on your thigh, and you moved to sit beside him on the bed, the tension between you still thick but shifting into something deeper, more vulnerable.

jay’s eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to tell him that this wasn’t some twisted game. you could see the uncertainty etched across his face, the way he was still bracing himself for the worst.

"jay," you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. the moment your fingers touched his skin, he shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, like he couldn’t believe this was real. his breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes again, they were filled with something raw—years of pent-up emotion, the pain of thinking he’d never have you.

jay’s expression twisted, like he was struggling to absorb everything, your touch, your voice. his lip trembled slightly, and he looked at you like he still couldn’t trust that you were really here with him. "why now?" he whispered, voice barely audible, like he was afraid of the answer.

you leaned in closer, your forehead resting gently against his. "because i didn’t know how much you meant to me until now," you admitted, your voice soft, but full of the truth. "and fuck, jay… i didn’t realize how much i wanted this."

"sure, you’re kind of awkward," you say with a soft smile, your thumb still brushing against his cheek. "but i’ve been seeing you, jay. i don’t think you ever realized."

he blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise, the vulnerability still there in his eyes, but now mixed with something else—hope.

"i’ve even been talking to hanna about hooking up with you," you admitted with a nervous laugh, watching his reaction carefully. "crazy, right?"

jay’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "you… what?" he stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. his breath hitched, and he blinked rapidly, clearly processing what you’d just confessed. "yeah," you laughed softly, the sincerity in your voice making him listen even more closely. "like, it started out as a light joke between hanna and me, but then I realized I was genuinely interested in you. you were so cute, jay. always blushing, stuttering around me." you paused, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you both. his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them raw and real.

"but before i could actually act on it," you continued, your voice softer now, "you started seeing that girl. and if i wasn’t sure about what i wanted before, fuck, i knew the second i got jealous."

jay blinked, processing your words, his face a mix of disbelief, "no way," he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"yeah," you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “although i did start to doubt your feelings for me when you got your cherry popped, i’ve known for a while. it was hard to admit to myself, though. i thought you’d finally moved on because… well, i wasn’t giving you any time of day.”

jay blinked, taking in your words, his expression shifting as you continued. “but i knew, jay. you weren’t exactly subtle,” you teased gently, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. "i thought i was being so careful. i was so sure i was hiding it," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "but i guess i was just making it worse."

"yeah," you chuckled softly. "but in a way, that’s what made you so… you. it’s why i started to notice you more. because underneath all the awkwardness, there was something real. and now, here we are."

"then when i found out that you have a jennie," you whispered, your voice barely audible, remembering the rush of that moment. "i… couldn’t stop thinking about it." the memory played in your mind—the way your pulse raced when you stood outside his door, the thoughts that swirled in your head.

jay's eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief flashing across his face. "shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky, "that's so fucking hot."

the confession hung heavy between you, the air thick with tension, but there was no mistaking the desire in his gaze. his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, to close the space between you, but he held back for a second, just staring at you, processing everything.

“i never thought you’d… even think about that,” he said, his voice rough with disbelief. “fuck, i thought i’d scared you off for good when you found out.”

"well, you didn't," you whispered, shaking your head, your voice soft but firm. the intensity of the moment hung heavy between you, the tension thick and electric.

you leaned in slightly, your hand still resting on his cheek, your thumb gently brushing his skin. "i wasn't scared off… if anything, it made me want you more."

jay’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt, but all he found was sincerity. his hands twitched, and he finally let himself close the gap between you, his lips dangerously close to yours, as if waiting for permission.

"shit," jay whispers, his voice trembling as he leans in even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth, "can i kiss you?"

his words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the world outside, the uncertainty, the confusion—all that’s left is the two of you, and the undeniable pull between you.

your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest as you nod, barely able to speak. "yeah," you whisper back, your voice shaky but sure. "kiss me, jay."

without another word, jay closes the distance, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that’s been building for years. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, the electricity between you both sparking into something intense, something raw.

and just like that, everything went flying out the window. your movements became frantic, desperate, as jay pulled you in closer, his arms caging you beneath him as you lay back on his bed. the kiss deepened, his lips pressing harder against yours, all the built-up tension between you both unraveling in a chaotic rush of need.

jay hovered above you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him. “fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his voice raw and full of emotion, his chest rising and falling rapidly. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles tense as he pressed against you, his breath coming out in harsh, shallow gasps. every inch of him was hungry, desperate, and fuck, you were right there with him.

“can't believe i'm not dreaming right now,” jay muttered, his voice low and strained as his lips found their way to your neck, trailing rough kisses along your skin. "you don’t even know." jay’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, hastily tugging down both your shorts and panties in one swift motion. the cool air hit your wet pussy, making you shiver, your body trembling beneath him. his grip was firm, his breathing ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with lust.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over your now-exposed skin, fingers brushing against your thighs, inching closer to where you were soaked. he seemed almost in disbelief, like he was finally touching what he had been dreaming about for so long.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” jay muttered, his voice low, the words barely audible as his hands found their way to your core, his fingers teasing your folds. you gasped, your hips jerking at the sudden contact, the heat between you two unbearable now.

his eyes locked onto yours as he let his fingers slide through your slickness, groaning softly at how wet you were for him. “you’re soaked,” he rasped, his voice full of desire. "shit, y/n, you’re driving me insane."

"i've imagined this so many fucking times," jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he ground helplessly against you, his hard cock pressing against your slick heat. his hands scrambled to touch whatever he could reach—your waist, your thighs, your breasts—gripping, groping, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

his breath was ragged, each grind of his hips sending jolts of pleasure through your body, making your own need surge. "you feel and smell so good," he muttered, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

you could feel him trembling against you, his body shaking with the intensity of the moment, his lips found your skin, kissing and biting your neck, his breath hot and desperate. "i’ve wanted you for so fucking long," he murmured between ragged kisses, his voice breaking slightly as he rocked his hips harder into you. "fuck, y/n, you have no idea."

jay’s hands fumbled to lift your shirt, his movements frantic as you shot your arms up to help him take it off. the second your breasts were exposed, his eyes widened, and a low moan escaped his lips. "oh shit, look at those tits," he groaned, his voice thick with lust.

without wasting a second, he dove in, his mouth hot and eager as he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, making you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shot through you. his hands gripped your breasts, kneading them roughly as he sucked and bit at your skin, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck," he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged as he moved to your other nipple, his mouth devouring you like he had been starving for this. "so fucking perfect." his hands squeezed your tits, his lips pulling and sucking in a way that made your head spin, each movement sending heat pooling between your legs.

he groaned deeply, clearly overwhelmed by the feel and taste of you, his hips still grinding against you helplessly, his cock pressing harder into your wet core. "you make me so horny," he rasped between sucks, his voice hoarse as he continued to devour you.

"i could do this forever," jay growled, his voice dripping with desperation as he grew more frantic, but still kept himself in control. his mouth moved from your breasts, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from the valley between them, his tongue hot and wet against your skin. he trailed down your body, each lick sending sparks of pleasure through you, his touch lighting your nerves on fire.

you gasped as his mouth finally reached your pussy, his breath hot against your slick folds. he paused for a moment, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at you, before licking a painfully slow, sensual stripe up your clit. your back arched, and you moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

jay’s eyes rolled back as he savored your taste, his tongue swirling over your clit again, this time with more intent. "fuck," he groaned against your pussy, his voice muffled as he lapped at your juices, clearly lost in the sensation. he was in heaven, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, drawing out every moan, every gasp from you.

he gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his mouth devoured you, licking and sucking with a desperate hunger. "you taste like fucking heaven," he mumbled, his voice hoarse as he flicked his tongue over your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

with precision, jay slipped his fingers into you, groaning as he felt how hot and wet your pussy was, his fingers sinking into your slick heat with ease. shit, he thought, shuddering at the sensation, his breath catching in his throat. this was so much better than that fucking sex doll.

“you feel amazing, so wet,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe as his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot.

the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, the heat, the wetness—him lose control as his mouth continued its assault on your clit, his tongue moving in time with his fingers. jennie was nothing compared to this. you were alive, warm, pulsating around him, and it was driving him fucking insane.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, flicking his tongue against you while his fingers pumped harder, curling deep inside. “clenching around my fingers.”

every time you moaned or gasped, jay responded—sucking harder on your clit, his fingers curling deeper inside you, matching your rhythm, like he was feeding off your pleasure. he was relentless.

"fuck, jay," you whimpered, gripping his hair tighter, pulling him closer, needing more. every flick of his tongue, every deep thrust of his fingers, was driving you closer to your breaking point, and he knew it.

“cum in my mouth, please,” jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he looked up at you, his lips brushing against your clit. “can you squirt? i-i even practiced how to do it, please tell me you can… i need it.”

his words sent a shockwave through you, the way he begged, the hunger in his voice, his fingers stroking that perfect spot with precision. you could barely breathe, every nerve alight with pleasure. the

“please,” jay begged again, his voice ragged, his fingers working faster now, his mouth hot against you. “i want to feel you cum, i want to taste you, fuck, give it to me.”

his desperation sent you spiraling, and so you do—your entire body tensing as the pressure inside you finally snaps. with a loud moan, you explode, spraying all over jay’s face, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the release hits you hard.

jay’s eyes widened in awe for a brief second before he dove in, his tongue out, eagerly lapping at your juices as you squirted all over him. his face was soaked, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in you, slurping at your pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“mmh, yes,” he groaned between licks, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm. your thighs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure, your body jerking with every flick of his tongue.

jay was relentless, his mouth and fingers working you over, milking every drop from you as he greedily devoured your release. "you’re really fucking perfect," he muttered, his face still buried between your legs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

jay didn’t waste a second, moving up swiftly and caging you beneath his arms, his body hovering over yours as he lined his cock up with your entrance. he teased the tip against your slick folds, the heat of his length rubbing against you, and a deep groan escaped his throat. "fuckkk," he hissed, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the moment.

"shit," he muttered, his voice full of awe and lust, "and i was just imagining this." his cock pressed teasingly at your entrance, the head slipping inside ever so slightly before pulling back again, torturing both of you with the anticipation.

you could feel the weight of him, the heat, and fuck, the way he was trembling with the need to finally take you. his breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back, but it was clear he was losing control. "can't wait to fuck you, oh," he groaned, pushing in a little deeper, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "ask me," you whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with need as you looked up at him. your body trembled beneath him, every inch of you aching for more, but you wanted to hear it—wanted him to say it.

jay’s eyes snapped open, dark and filled with lust, his breath catching in his throat. he stared down at you, his cock pressing dangerously close to pushing all the way in, but he paused, clearly thrown off by your words.

“ask you?” he muttered, his voice husky, his hips twitching slightly, betraying his restraint.

"yeah," you breathed, your hands sliding up his back, nails digging into his skin lightly as you pulled him closer. "ask me like how you fucked jennie earlier."

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. "you really want me to?" his hips twitched, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, and he could barely hold himself back now.

"shit," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading, swallowing thickly before mirroring his words.

"you want it?" his eyes locked with yours, burning with desire as he fought to maintain control, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"hmmm," you moaned, your hips moving back to meet his, teasing him as your wet entrance brushed against the tip of his cock. "yes, i want it, jay…" you whimpered, your voice shaky and filled with need.

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said. "fuck," he groaned, the desperation clear in his voice. he dipped his head, his lips grazing your ear as his body pressed harder against you, his cock twitching at your entrance.

"shit, you’re gonna fucking kill me," he muttered, his voice barely holding together as he lined himself up, teasing your entrance.

and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, groaning as he felt your tightness wrap around him. "fuck, i'm actually inside you," jay grunted, his voice rough and strained as he pushed deeper, his eyes falling half-closed as he stared down at you, blissed out by the feeling of your tightness around him. your body arched beneath him, your eyes glued to the sight of him sinking into you, stretching you perfectly.

he caught you watching, and the realization made his head spin. "fuck, really watching me fuck you, huh? you like that?" he groaned, his voice low and dripping with lust.

his hips rocked slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you, and the way you were staring at him, so fixated, made his control start to slip. "you like seeing me fuck you like this?" he muttered, his breath shaky, his movements becoming more desperate as he lost himself in the heat of you.

"shit, you even got off to me fucking a doll," jay growled, his voice rough as he started fucking into you mercilessly, the force of his thrusts pushing you deeper into the bed.

his lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as the intensity of the moment overtook you both. your mouths moved in a messy, desperate kiss, both of you panting and gasping for air between each frantic movement.

"you fucking wanted it too, didn’t you?" he grunted against your lips, his hips slamming into you harder, his pace relentless. "did you get jealous, huh?"

"yes." you whine, his words made you whimper into the kiss, your body trembling beneath him, your fingers dug into his back, gripping him tightly, pulling him closer as you moaned into his mouth.

your answer seemed to hit him like a tidal wave, flooding jay with emotion. he groaned deeply, his body trembling as he collapsed on top of you, his chest pressing against yours. the weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, made everything feel even more intense.

"oh god," jay whispered against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as his lips brushed your skin. "you don’t know how much i’ve wanted this. how much i’ve wanted you."

his voice cracked slightly, and you could feel the vulnerability in him, the weight of everything he had been holding back finally surfacing. he kissed your neck, soft and trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, keeping you close.

"i thought i’d never have you," he whispered again, but the depth of his feelings clear in every word. planting tender, almost reverent kisses along your skin as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, connected to you but now laced with something far more intimate than just desire.

you could feel his heartbeat against your chest, fast and erratic, mirroring your own. the intensity of his emotions poured into every kiss, every breath he took, as though he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

"i'm so fucking happy," jay whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear, his voice thick with vulnerability. "can't believe i'm fucking you. i don’t know what i’d do if this wasn’t real."

your hands slid up his back, fingers gently tracing the lines of his muscles as you pulled him even closer, grounding him, letting him know you were here with him, that this was real.

"i’m not going anywhere, jay," you whispered back, your voice soft but full of reassurance. "this is real. i want you, too."

jay shuddered at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. "fuck," he muttered, his voice cracking as he let himself fully lean into the moment.

jay growled low in his throat, gripping your thigh and throwing it over his shoulder in one swift motion. the new angle made his thrusts even deeper, each one hitting you so perfectly that the breath was knocked right out of you. he straddled your other thigh, his movements becoming more aggressive as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of you at a pace that left you gasping for air.

"jay," you yelped, your body jolting with every powerful thrust. jay’s hands were relentless, one hand gripping your waist tightly as he straightened up, towering over you, the other squeezing your breast harshly, kneading your flesh with an almost brutal intensity. his fingers dug into your skin, sending a mix of pain and pleasure through your body as he groaned, lost in the sensation of fucking you so deep.

he leaned over slightly, his hand pressing down hard on your stomach. the pressure made you feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you so fully it made your head spin. "holy shit," you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, your walls tightening around him as his thrusts became more brutal, more desperate.

"fuck, i love your pussy, y/n," jay panted, his voice rough and breathless as he slammed into you over and over, his cock driving into you so deep it felt like he was tearing you apart.

"looks like you don't even need jennie anymore, huh?" you teased, your voice shaky between gasps as jay continued to pound into you, the intensity overwhelming every sense.

jay groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he thrust deeper, his grip on your waist tightening. "hell," he breathed, his voice thick with desire and desperation. "i don't think i'd ever wanna use her again."

his thrusts became even more intense, driven by the raw need coursing through him, as if he was trying to prove just how much better you felt, how real this was compared to anything else. "oh god, y/n," he muttered, his hips snapping into you, "i don't think i can get enough of this."

"gonna use this pussy instead," jay growled, each word sent a shiver down your spine.

you gasped, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure built, overwhelming your senses. "fuck, jay," you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you.

"yeah, you like that?" he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down, his chest pressing against yours. "this pussy's mine now."

as jay leaned forward, each movement pushed against your walls, making you grunt and mewl with every inch he buried inside you. his hand reached for yours, fingers tangling through yours as he pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful, just enough to hold you in place.

"oh shit baby," he groaned, his voice low and filled with awe as his cock sank even deeper, hitting every spot inside you that made your body tremble. "i can feel your walls squeezing me, shit, i'm so deep." his words were ragged, each one punctuated by the sound of your bodies colliding.

"you like that?" he muttered breathlessly, his lips brushing against your ear as his thrusts became more urgent, your body responding to every move. "feels good, doesn’t it? fuck, look at that face," he panted, his eyes glued to your expression, clearly lost in the pleasure on your face.

jay crashed his lips onto yours again, moaning into your mouth between desperate, ragged breaths. his hands cradled your face, fingers trembling slightly as he held you with a kind of need that felt primal.

his hips anchored with one deep, deliberate stroke, burying himself inside you completely. he didn’t move, just held you there, his cock pressed impossibly deep, stretching you to your limit. the sensation was overwhelming, and it ripped a loud, unrestrained cry from your throat.

"too deep!" you yelled, your back arching off the bed, your body trembling from the intensity of it. jay groaned deeply, his forehead pressed against yours as he savored the way you felt around him, every inch of him buried inside you, the pressure making both of you shudder.

he gasped, slowing down his thrusts, jay's lips found their way to your neck, his movements becoming more cautious, more deliberate as his breath fanned against your skin.

he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering there for a moment before whispering, “can i leave a hickey?”

his voice was low, almost hesitant, despite the intensity of the moment. his hips slowed to a deep, grinding rhythm, the sensation still overwhelming but more controlled now, as he waited for your answer, his lips barely brushing your skin.

"of course," you giggled, giving him the go-ahead. jay’s lips latched onto your neck, but the more he sucked, the more impatient he grew. before you could react, he flipped you over with a sudden motion, making you yelp in surprise.

now straddling him, his cock still hard and pulsing, you gasped as he hit a new angle inside you, deeper and different.

he sat up quickly, pulling you against his chest, one hand gripping your waist, the other cupping your breast as his mouth found your nipple. his lips sucked on your skin, leaving more marks, his breath hot and ragged as he groaned against your flesh, leaving a trail of bruises down your chest.

"fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he held you tight against him. "i can’t get enough of you."

you pushed him down, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t felt before. god, you’d never been fucked like this—so raw, so passionate. every thrust, every moan, you could feel his emotions pouring into you. it was more than just physical; his love. the way his eyes locked onto yours, the desperation and desire in his touch—it all made your heart race.

you couldn’t help but wonder, would this fade? the thought of this connection, this intense heat between you fizzling out made your chest tighten. no, you couldn’t let that happen. you didn’t want it to end.

you rocked your hips, moving against him, feeling him so deep inside you. the look on jay’s face—the way he was staring up at you, completely captivated—made you feel powerful, wanted, needed. and fuck, you wanted him too, not just now but again and again. flashes of this moment replayed in your mind, the idea of having him like this over and over, coming back for more.

"i want you, jay," you whispered breathlessly, your voice full of need, your hands pressing into his chest as you leaned over him, "i want you to keep coming back for me."

"you think i'm gonna stop now?" jay growled, his voice dripping with intensity as his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you down onto him harder. "fuck no."

he bucked his hips up, meeting your movements with deeper, harder thrusts, the connection electric, and it felt like nothing could pull you apart now.

"you’re mine," he muttered, his voice rough and breathless as he stared up at you, watching the way your body moved above him, completely captivated by the sight of you. "and I’m not fucking going anywhere."

"shit, you can come here whenever you want," jay groaned, his voice ragged as he thrust up into you, his grip on your hips tightening as if he never wanted to let go. "i'll even fucking bail on heeseung—fuck, i don't care."

his words made your head spin, the desperation in his voice clear as he lost himself in the moment. his eyes were locked on yours, filled with nothing but pure need. "you're all i fucking want, y/n," he growled, thrusting harder, the intensity of his movements matching the emotion behind his words.

"even if," jay struggled to get the words out, his breath hitching as his hips snapped into you with more urgency, "you just want to come here for sex—I don't care." his voice was shaky, his balls tightening as he felt his climax approaching, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking, couldn't stop the flood of emotion that came with every thrust.

"let me have this again," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling as he held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. even in this moment, as he was fucking you senseless, he still had that sweet, vulnerable look in his eyes. god, jay, he was still so fucking cute even when he was wrecking you, making your mind go blank with every stroke. you straightened up, taking full control as you moved on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest as you slid up and down his cock. jay’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with pure pleasure as he watched you ride him, his body completely at your mercy. the way you moved—slow and deliberate, then faster, made him lose all control, his head falling back against the bed, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"you’re riding me?" he asked in pleasured disbelief, his hands gripping your hips tighter, trying to ground himself.

his body shook beneath you, overwhelmed, and you could see it in his face—the way he was trying so hard to hold on, but it was all too much. "shit, y/n," he gasped, his voice cracking as he nearly sobbed from the pleasure.

"fuck, you're gonna make me cum—" jay's voice cracked, laced with panic as he felt his climax rushing toward him, the tension in his body building uncontrollably. his grip on your hips tightened, like he was scared to let go, scared of what was about to happen. he tried to pull back, but you didn’t stop, moving even faster, grinding down harder onto his cock.

"it's okay," you panted, your voice breathless but full of determination, "i'm on the pill. cum inside me."

his eyes snapped open, his entire body trembling as he stared up at you in disbelief, completely overwhelmed. "fuck," he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked up into you, chasing the release he could no longer hold back.

"oh, god no- shit, i'm gonna—" jay babbled, his voice high-pitched and shaky, barely holding himself together as the pressure built inside him.

"shit, stop, i—fuck, i can't believe—" his words trailed off into desperate whines, his hips bucking up uncontrollably into you, his eyes squeezing shut as he started to lose it.

he tried to fight it, his head thrashing against the pillow as his hips stuttered beneath you, but there was no stopping it. "i can't—fuck, i'm cumming, i'm fucking cumming," he whined, his voice cracking as he emptied himself inside you, disbelief and pleasure making him reel. his body jerked uncontrollably, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, as he babbled incoherently, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation.

you followed suit, your body trembling as the intense pleasure hit you all at once. your orgasm washed over you in powerful waves, and before you knew it, you were squirting all over his cock. jay’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he watched in awe, his still-hard cock twitching inside you.

"what the fuck," he hissed, his voice shaking with disbelief, "you're squirting all over me, y/n. shit, that’s so fucking hot."

his hands gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he rocked up into you again, unable to stop himself. the sight of you cumming like that had him completely undone, his head falling back with a groan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"fuck, you're incredible," he moaned, still feeling the heat of your release soaking him. both of you lay there panting, the weight of everything that had just happened sinking in. jay’s body was still trembling beneath yours, his hands resting on your hips, holding you gently now, completely different from the roughness moments before.

he was the first to break the silence, his breath shaky as he spoke, still flustered. "so, um… was it just the dick? or… did you like me back, too?" his voice was awkward, almost nervous, as he tried to act casual about it, but his eyes gave him away.

he was staring at you, waiting for an answer, unsure of himself despite everything that had just happened.

you chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "jay, seriously?" you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest. "if I just wanted your dick, I wouldn’t have let you stay inside me like that."

he blinked, processing your words, clearly surprised. "wait… so you actually like me? like, like me like me?" his voice cracked slightly, his face flushing red as if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. it was almost adorable how shy he still was, even after everything.

"yeah," you nodded, smirking at him. "i want something more. it’s not just about the sex, jay. though…" you bit your lip playfully, making him blush even harder, "that was pretty damn amazing, too."

jay’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest, and for a moment he looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a shy, awkward laugh. "holy shit, I didn’t think… I mean, I never thought you’d like me like that."

"why wouldn’t I?" you asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly, making him melt under your touch. "you’re sweet, you're cute, and you just rocked my fucking world."

jay’s face turned beet red, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "can I, um… kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was still too shy to believe you’d say yes. his eyes were full of vulnerability, like he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this was real.

you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorably awkward he was, despite everything. "you don’t have to ask, jay," you teased, leaning down to kiss him gently, feeling his hands hesitantly slide up to cup your face.

he kissed you back, this time slower, sweeter, as if savoring every second of it. when you pulled away, his face was still flushed, his lips parted as he stared at you like you were the most unbelievable thing in the world. "I seriously can’t believe this is happening," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"so… you're my girlfriend now? or is there, like, a process?" jay asked, his voice soft but filled with nervousness, his eyes darting around like he was unsure of the right way to approach it. his awkwardness was endearing, especially after everything that had just happened between you two.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and playful as you sat up slightly, still straddling him. "a process?" you teased, your lips curving into a grin. "jay, I think after everything we just did, we're skipping the process."

his face flushed bright red again, but a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "right… yeah, that makes sense." he looked away for a second, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "so, uh, I guess we’re… official?"

"i guess we are," you smirked, leaning down to kiss him softly. "unless you want to fill out some forms or something."

jay chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips as he looked up at you with that sweet, almost boyish grin. "nah, I think I can live without the paperwork. but, just to be clear…" he hesitated for a moment, his voice dropping to a more vulnerable tone. "you really want this? like, not just curious about… you know?"

you rolled your eyes playfully and gave him a gentle smack on the chest.

his grin widened, still a bit shy but filled with excitement. "can I kiss you whenever I want now? or do I have to ask every time?" he joked, though you could tell he was still a bit hesitant, not quite believing that this was real.

"you better," you teased, pressing your lips to his again, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kissed you back, his awkwardness slowly fading into pure happiness.

as you both lay there, the warmth between you growing into something comfortable and real, jay’s eyes drifted lazily around the room.

and then he froze. in the far corner, barely peeking out from under a pile of clothes, was jennie, his infamous sex doll, the one he’d relied on for so long.

"shit," he muttered, his voice soft but filled with disbelief, "jennie." he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at you, clearly embarrassed. "i guess I won't be needing her anymore, huh?"

you smirked, following his gaze toward the doll and giving him a teasing look. "yeah, probably not."

jay flushed, the reality of the situation hitting him again. jennie had been his secret for so long, something he never thought would be exposed, especially not to you. but then he turned back to you, his expression shifting from embarrassment to something more playful, his voice softening as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "but I never thought you’d be such a pervert, y/n."

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing smile. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," he chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. "watching me like that… hiding in the closet. fuck, I couldn’t believe it. i mean, it was so hot—but still." he paused, biting his lip before continuing, "you’re a perv."

you laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "you’re one to talk. you’re the one with a sex doll."

jay groaned, his face reddening. "yeah, well, i had my reasons," he muttered, still unable to meet your eyes completely. "but fuck, y/n, the fact you were watching me… that’s something I’ll never forget."

"and you liked it," you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest.

"hell yeah, i did," he grinned, pulling you closer, his hands sliding up your back.

"you okay with a loser like me?" jay asked, his voice soft, a hint of insecurity still lingering despite everything. his eyes searched yours, like he was waiting for reassurance, still not fully believing you were here, choosing him.

you smiled warmly, running your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "jay, you’re not a loser," you said, your tone firm but gentle.

he blinked, his lips parting slightly as he took in your words, his cheeks flushing red again. "i just… fuck, i never thought you’d actually want me, y/n. i’ve liked you for so long and thought i didn’t stand a chance."

"well, you thought wrong," you teased, leaning down to kiss him softly.

just as jay was about to respond, the door flew open with a loud bang, and in stormed hanna, her eyes wide with shock and a mix of disbelief.

“what the actual fuck?!” she yelled, freezing as she took in the scene—both of you tangled up in bed, clothes scattered everywhere. “oh my god, no fucking way!”

jay nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to pull the blanket up, his face flushing a deep red as he stammered, “h-hanna! it’s not—it’s not what it looks like!” but the look of pure embarrassment on his face made it clear it was exactly what it looked like.

you couldn't help but laugh, though you were equally mortified. “uh, hey, hanna,” you said sheepishly, trying to pull the blanket over yourself as well.

“are you serious right now?” hanna stared, her hands on her hips. “you two… really?!”

“okay, okay, calm down,” you said, sitting up, still laughing a little. “it just… happened.”

“just happened?!” hanna shrieked, her eyes darting between you and jay. “i leave for five minutes, and now you’re… this?” you roll your eyes, "you were gone for an hour."

jay looked like he wanted to disappear, his face a permanent shade of red as he mumbled, “yeah… it kinda just… happened.”

hanna groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “oh my god, you guys are ridiculous. well, at least now i don’t have to listen to you both pine after each other anymore.”

you and jay exchanged a look, both of you clearly embarrassed but unable to hold back the smiles creeping onto your faces.

“wait,” hanna said, suddenly pointing at jay, “so this means i win the bet, right?”

jay groaned, burying his face in his hands. “oh, come on, hanna!”

"what bet?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in confusion, glancing between hanna and jay, who now looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

hanna grinned, clearly enjoying jay’s embarrassment. “oh, didn’t jay tell you? we made a little bet a while ago. i told him you liked him, but he was too much of a chicken to believe me.”

jay groaned again, his face buried in his hands. “hanna, please,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

“so,” hanna continued, ignoring his protests, “i bet him that if he ever got his act together and made a move, you’d be into it. and look at this!” she gestured dramatically to the two of you tangled up in bed. “guess who just won?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “are you serious, jay?” you teased, lightly poking his arm. “you made a bet about this?”

jay peeked up from his hands, his face still bright red as he mumbled, “i didn’t think i’d ever actually win, okay? i was convinced you’d never be interested in me like that.”

“well,” you said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. “you should’ve listened to hanna.”

hanna laughed, clapping her hands together. “maybe now you won’t be so awkward around her.” she paused, then raised an eyebrow at jay. “or are you still gonna be shy even after all this?”

jay blushed again, mumbling under his breath, “probably still awkward.”

“so was he good?” hanna smirked, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let this moment go just yet.

“hanna, leave!” jay shrieked, his face turning an even deeper shade of red as he grabbed a pillow and hurled it toward the door. hanna ducked just in time, laughing as the pillow bounced off the wall.

“fine, fine!” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“i’m going, but listen up, jay.” her playful tone turned serious for a second as she pointed at him, her eyes narrowing. “if you hurt her, even once, i’ll disown your ass. seriously.” she shot you a wink before stepping out, still laughing as she shut the door behind her.

jay groaned, flopping back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands again. “i can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

you couldn’t help but giggle, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “don’t worry,” you teased. “you survived her wrath, and I think you did just fine.”

jay peeked out from under his hands, his cheeks still flushed, but a small smile crept onto his face. “yeah?” he asked, sounding a little shy.

“yeah,” you whispered, leaning in closer, “more than fine.”

jay’s eyes softened as he stared deeply into yours, his face inches from yours as he nuzzled into your neck, finally relaxing now that hanna had left the room. his breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the tension melt away as the two of you sank deeper into each other’s embrace.

"y/n," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath, "i like you a lot."

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. there was something so genuine, so raw in the way he said it, like he’d been holding onto that confession for so long and could finally let it out.

“i like you a lot too, jay,” you whispered back, your voice filled with the same tenderness. “a lot more than I realized.”

he smiled against your neck, his arms tightening around you, holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “fuck, this feels like a dream,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin. “i can’t believe this is real.”

"it’s real," you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. "and i’m not going anywhere."

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his face still flushed but full of warmth. "yay." he said with a small, shy grin.

♡⸝⸝ be sure to check out my navigation page for all my stories, updates, permanent taglist, and a sneak peek at upcoming content! everything you need is right there.

to be added to my perm taglist, please follow the instructions on this post or drop an ask! it's so hard to keep track of everything because it's scattered! i will only add those that have followed instructions, ty! ❤︎

[cool-island-songs]

Analysis of ALNST Character Relationship Metrics

My art book won't be here for a minute, but I ran some screenshots I saw on twt through an image translator and have a lot of thoughts:

TILL: Despite claiming to hate everyone in the world, Till ranks Ivan at 70% intimacy even as he identifies perturbing behaviors of Ivan's going back years and refers to him as "a bother". He also ranks Sua at 10% in spite of having little to say about her and finding it uncomfortable to be around her.

Though he postures at being misanthropic and has all the manners you'd expect of a boy who was half off at the human child pound, he's actually quite gentle and sensitive. This is reflected in one of the graduation messages he's left by a classmate as well:

The person he feels closest to is an unattainable crush, and someone who doesn't feel that close with him in return, likely because he's too shy to really approach her or carry on a conversation.

MIZI: That's Mizi, of course, who's rather childlike and naive initially. She likes everyone, but since Till chokes when he tries to speak to her and often keeps his distance, she wonders if he's avoiding her because he dislikes her.

Mizi gravitates towards people who she sees as "perfect", which is how she describes Ivan and Sua in her graduation message to Ivan:

She doesn't see the darker side of Ivan's personality (which has been described on several occasions, even by himself, as "twisted") because he's attractive, successful, and helpful to her.

Though she likes everyone, Sua is her "God", and the only thing that can keep them apart is the tragedy of their situation, which forces Mizi to grow up in a brutally painful way.

SUA: Sua is far less idealistic and naive than Mizi, and has clearly thought about sacrificing herself to save Mizi, since Ivan picks on her for thinking of doing so in an official comic. Accordingly, her feelings about Mizi are far more tinged by the knowledge that they will one day be torn apart by external circumstances. She laments that reciprocating her feelings will one day cause Mizi great pain.

She's always been more somber, and despite her surface similarities to Ivan (which he notes in a follow-up comic wherein he realizes he was wrong about Sua's feelings for Mizi being unrequited), she's quite different on the inside. Sua's more sensitive and thus her colder exterior serves to protect her, whereas Ivan's outward persona creates an illusion of normalcy that doesn't reflect his reality.

Sua views Ivan and Till as a threat and a nuisance, respectively. Like Till, she senses something strange about Ivan, and when it comes to Till, it's just one person too many around for her. This is fascinating to me, because I thought she might pity Till! Her feelings about Ivan were already pretty clear from this panel of the 'piggyback' comic, and she seems deeply hurt in the first comic linked by his prodding.

IVAN: For his part, Ivan is fascinated by Till even though he's content to sit back and observe, pestering him to get a reaction or his attention for a brief time. He doesn't expect anything in return but wants more than anything to be on Till's mind (hence behaviors like stealing Till's belongings and returning them to him, pretending he had found them).

He prefers Sua to Mizi despite his awareness that Sua doesn't particularly like him, seeing her as a sister and even telling her she's "twisted" like he is. He likes Mizi well enough, especially her sincerity, but seems to find her optimism a bit much at times.

The fact that Mizi and the others would likely consider Ivan and Mizi quite close while Ivan does not reflects how much he postures even in his closest relationships. He struggles to connect with those he's most compelled by and it's not clear if he really wants to.

Some Ivantill thoughts before I go:

There seems to be a common sentiment that it's tragic Till was unable to see how much Ivan loved him, and I think we'll likely get more of Till's perspective on Ivan and their relationship in round 7. But it may not be the case that Ivan even wanted his true feelings to be seen, or would have known what to do if Till had reciprocated them.

There's something almost voyeuristic and self-negating in his feelings for Till (see: "I can’t reach you, so I imagine alone/You who shines, I stand next to you" from 'Black Sorrow'). He has far more self-awareness and willingness to accept things as they are than Till, who doesn't see that Mizi only has eyes for Sua and who would likely struggle to accept that reality.

Ivan, on the other hand, is well aware that his feelings for Till are "shallow", a bright fantasy to get him through his dark reality, and he seems to sincerely believe that his death won't scar Till because he's never really broken through to him. He's a schemer, and comments he makes in his graduation message to Till and the interview he gives in advance of round 6 suggest that he may have been planning to sacrifice himself for some time.

Part of me wonders if he hoped it would leave a mark on Till. Choking, kissing, and violently sacrificing oneself are all aggressive, forward acts, especially from someone who used to toy with people to get his kicks but was otherwise quite passive and unfeeling.

There are a lot of parallels in the one-sided loves, like Till acting out of his usual character for Mizi, and Ivan doing the same because of Till, putting all hopes of being saved in something just out of reach, staying in chains for that one special person. But Ivan's psychology is quite different from Till's, and in fact closest to Luka's re: low or no empathy. Both Ivan and Till are significantly traumatized by their upbringings but Ivan's difficult early life in the slums and his experience being dangled off that rooftop seem to have damaged his ability to connect to others or feel much of anything.

Till is the first person for whom he feels anything while for Till, Mizi is an early crush he puts on a pedestal in a much more commonplace way. I think the shared trauma of competing on that stage makes it much more difficult for either of them to imagine moving on, but Ivan is not wrong in identifying that he won't find that feeling again.

The thing that intrigues me most about this series is the way the contestants' differences play out, particularly with regard to how they view love and how they respond to their individual and shared challenges. I'd love to get into it further another time but this is quite long already so thanks for sticking with it if any have (haha)

[thaatdigitaldiary]

for the first time

hopkins paige bueckers x hopkins fem reader

for a long time, paige didn’t know why she felt the way she did about her best friend, someone who she “wasn’t” supposed to love, she didn’t want to ruin things. it was unfortunate she didn’t know you were waiting for her first. (kinda got this idea while listening to bags by clairo so i hope this makes your heart tingle and your eyes water!)

fluff and flirtationnnn (ofc🙏🏽), slight angst & minor argument, internal homophobia, cuteness and clarity at the end | this is lengthy! i hope ya like

enjoy!🙂‍↕️

disclaimer: i write nothing but angst or fluff when it comes to hopkins p, considering she was in highschool. thank you! - im considering this a “throwback story” so i can make a part two for older reader and older paige. 🫶🏽

paige and you were completely different when it came to high school. her priorities consisted of basketball, her future career, and passing senior year so she can make way to uconn. you however, were all about academics. you were in basically any club available, maintained a 4.0 gpa, and quickly climbed the rank of class president. how you two met was random, your sophomore year you were in photography club, meaning you took pictures of all the sports teams for the yearbook, and she stayed behind to talk to you.

"cool ass camera." she said going to touch it, but you quickly swat her hand away.

"hey! no touching. you break you buy." you say slightly stern, pointing your finger at her.

"technically YOU'D have to buy, this has nothing to do with me." she says laughing and shrugging her shoulders, getting a smile out of you. for her first time seeing you smile, she sure was in love with it.

"okay "miss photographer", what's your name?" she asks you, hoping she can get to know you. "mine's paige."

"i know, i see you all the time, you're like.. the best basketball player here." you say bragging on her, feeling kind of shy when you give away that you're a big fan of her.

"oh really, you think so?" she says in a flirty tone while she flexes, making you blush out of nervousness.

"okay, okay, don't get too in your head now, but yeah, you're really good. i'm the one who records and snaps all your shots. but my name is y/n, since you asked." you say with such a sweet voice, something that sent her in a trance, completely dazed in the sound of you speaking.

"cute name. hey uh, i was gonna ask did you need any help packing this stuff up, i won't break it i promise." paige says chuckling, her smile pure and full of life, an image that stayed in your head since you met her.

two years pass, and you and paige can never separate. despite being utter opposites of each other, you're glued to the hip. you still did photography, getting the best candid photos of your best friend on the court, excited to post them on social media so she gets the attention she deserves. you gathered the pictures together and created a collage to post on instagram.

you were paige's biggest fan to say the least, buying a hoodie with her name and number on it, and being able to sit on the sidelines and watch her play, with your photographer privilege of course. anytime she made a three, she'd point at you, making you smile. watching her play was something you couldn't get enough of, learning the game so you could understand when she was frustrated with a play, or if she just rambled on to you about it, you'd know exactly what she was talking about.

paige and your bond grew stronger, going to family events together, having sleepovers every weekend, even during the week, as well as going on family trips with her. you felt like you had your person when it came down to paige. you didn't really know much about anyone at your school, and you definitely didn't expect the school's star basketball player to befriend you.

life wasn't always so peachy though. you really struggled finding yourself. for a long time you were confused, not when it came to school, when it came down to your feelings. ever since you met paige, there was this feeling you couldn't shake, this feeling of nurture and love that you gained from her, the type no one else could give you. growing up, you weren't one to express your feelings to your parents. they were always busy, super strict, and for some reason never found too much time for you. but paige, she always dropped anything even if meant seeing you for 5 minutes.

the first time paige saw you, she noticed how you radiated positive energy, even though she had no clue what you were going through at home. all she wanted was to be the person by your side through thick and thin, forever and always.

with about a month and a half of school left, paige and her teammates took home the trophy for the final game of the season, and you were more than proud for her, ecstatic even. when the final buzzer went off for the end of the game, paige made a 3 pointer, beating the buzzer. you stood up and cheered as loud as you could, while paige ran towards you and swiftly lifted you up into a hug, making your feet dangle in the air.

"i'm so proud of you p." you said, muffled into her shoulder, as you feel her start to tear up from her words, and one of her biggest achievements.

"i really couldn't have done it without you, you're my motivation y/n." you feel a catch in your throat, signaling you're about to cry, and she quickly wipes your tears.

her family takes you both out to eat, and you had a duffel bag in their trunk that you packed the night before, so you could stay over at paige's house tonight.

after eating and making it to paige's place, you and paige made it up to her room, where she dropped her bags and your duffel that she insisted on carrying so you didn't "hurt your pretty hands" as she'd say. her room has evolved so much over the years, furniture moved around, basketball posters growing on the walls every visit, but one thing that never changed, was the framed picture of you and her on your nightstand, you on her back after her first win, both of your smiles bright and lively. the same picture lingered on her lockscreen ever since you two took it, your lockscreen being a picture you and her took at a sleepover at your house, you two under a fuzzy olive green blanket, exceptionally close for "best friends", but you never really cared.

that's another thing when it came down to paige, you never really cared. sure, questions and rumors spread, "are y/n and paige together?" "is paige gay?" "what's y/n's sexuality?"

it got annoying after a while, and paige and you always seemed to avoid the questions, and simply ignore them. it sucked that you wondered the same thing though. that was a sensitive topic, you couldn't ask paige about that, what if she finds you weird and stops talking to you?

you though, you should've been asking yourself that question. you've dated one guy throughout high school, and sure you liked him, (so you thought), but he was rude and belittling. after a conversation with paige, you immediately broke up with him. "he's not good enough for you," she said to you, always knowing what was best.

the real question was, what really was good enough for me?

paige never dated anyone in highschool, she turned down girls AND guys, so it made it extra hard to read her, even though you knew her like a book, cover page to the summary on the back of it. you wanted to know, but you didn't want to lose her in the midst of your curiosity.

sitting on paige's bed, you took your shoes off and got comfortable like you usually do, and she took off her practice gear and sat next to you.

"thank you for always being here for me y/n, like seriously." she sounds so genuine and would do anything to keep you here forever.

"p, i'm always gonna be here for you, you're my best friend." you go to embrace her, her muscular arms holding you close, your perfume lingering in her nose, making her feel at home.

you and her let go and look at each other for a while, eye contact never breaking, when she leans in for a kiss, and you let her in. the kiss is slow, as she tries to learn your body language, the kiss is meaningful, but is cut short when she starts freaking out.

"jesus christ y/n i'm sorry."

"i didn't mean to do that, it was an accident,"

an accident?

"oh, uh, yeah it's fine." you say, confused on what the big deal was, you've been wanting to do that forever, but i guess things weren't reciprocated.

things quickly got awkward, and then paige says something that honestly breaks your heart a little.

"maybe you shouldn't stay the night tonight, i uh, got family stuff."

you knew that wasn't true, she just didn't want you around after a moment like this just happened. but why is she shutting it down?

"you don't wanna talk first, i mean a lot just happened i think we should ta-" you try to explain to her when she cuts you off.

"just go home y/n." her voice cold and bleak, making you queasy.

paige was never like this with you, can a kiss really change everything? you thought asking your best friend a question would make you lose her, but you two KISSED. your heart dropped to your feet with the thoughts swarming in your head, "is she gonna leave me?" being the main one.

the next day rolls around, it was 12:30, the time she usually got back home after practicing with her dad, and you’ve received no sign of her, no texts or missed facetimes, which was unusual since you promised each other two years ago you'd try to facetime every. single. day. "she just needs time," you thought to yourself, but you text her anyway.

"hey paigeyyy, i'm gonna go to the store later, did you want me to pick anything up for you? i can drop by your house and give it to you?"

read 12:35pm

she read your message, but didn't respond until ten minutes later with a simple and dry "no" which made you sigh and move on about the day.

you missed paige. you slowly start to regret last night, but there's nothing you can do to change it. you already miss her face, her hugs, her lips, and how she looked at you. you open your camera roll to see a picture you and her took last night after her game, her holding you bridal style while you hold up her trophy, both of you smiling at each other. you put your phone down and decide to lay down for the rest of the day, as you had no motivation to do anything knowing your best friend didn't even wanna speak to you.

but deep down it was more than that, you had really fallen for paige, not wanting anyone but her, was that so wrong?

paige on the other hand, was losing it. she didn't know what to do with herself. there was no way she liked girls, let alone her best friend.

so why did she kiss her?

she wanted answers, but she couldn't and didn't want to talk to anyone about it, scared of how others would perceive her, worried she'd lose people over this, and worst of all, she didn't want to lose her best friend. she had to push her away, she needed space to think.

she thought there was nothing wrong with that, but it was the worst thing she could've done.

a week passes, neither of you are talking much, you haven't facetimed in what seems like forever, and her responses to you are weak and bland, making you feel as if she's not interested in talking to you anymore.

prom is approaching, you and paige planned to go together, to dance, make fun of other peoples dancing, and have another lively moment before summer break. but after that night, you're not sure what you two are gonna do, mainly because the day of prom, paige hadn't texted you at all. you weren't gonna go since you figured she wasn't, but you needed to get out of bed and go do something fun to get your mind off of the situation.

a couple hours go by, and you're finished getting ready. you have on an all black floor length dress, with small purple accents, since you already pre picked it out, intending to match with paige. you took your pictures with your parents, and drove to the school, as prom was being held in the gym this year.

you get there, hands clammy from your nervousness. you hate being here without paige, you wanted to take so many pictures, make so many memories, slow dance, and this was gonna be the night you were ACTUALLY planning on kissing her for the first time, showing her how long you've loved her.

the whole time you've been standing around looking bored, knowing you'd have so much fun if paige were here. that's until a guy from the football team comes up to you, asking you to dance with him. you insist, as you have nothing better to do. a slow song starts, and you and him are dancing slowly, until you notice a familiar face walk in the gym. paige.

she sees you and him and storms off to the bathroom, furious at the fact that you looked so beautiful, and that she wasn't the one with hands around your waist, taking in all your beauty.

you excuse yourself from his grasp, walking towards the bathroom, letting it clear out before you walk in.

"hey.." you say softly, not wanting to come off aggressive as if she hasn't been talking to you in what seemed like ages.

"what the fuck is he doing slow dancing with you? that was our thing y/n." she says, sort of yelling at you, but you quickly retaliate.

"no paige. you don't get to be mad at me because YOU shut me out. all i wanted to do was talk to you, you made me feel crazy, like something was wrong with me." you say, starting to cry.

"you completely went ghost on me, since before that night i've wanted no one but you, but i guess it doesn't matter,"

"i didn't come with him, he just asked me to dance because i looked bored, so i said yes." you tell her, looking at the tiled bathroom floor.

paige cups your chin and pulls your head up so you can look her in the eyes.

"i'm sorry y/n. i shouldn't have ran from you, i was scared. i really did mean to kiss you, just not like that. i wanted it to be special, i wanted it to be while we danced. i thought he was about to take that opportunity away from me. it woulda been memorable y'know?" she says while looking deep in your eyes, hoping you'd forgive her. “i know i’ve been acting weird, i just didn’t know what to do if i lost you.”

"i was also scared of what people would think of me, yknow, liking girls and shit. especially liking you, you're perfect, i didn't wanna ruin anything for you."

you don't respond immediately, until she says what's been on her mind since she met you.

"i'm in love with you, y/n. i've loved you since the first time i met you, you keep me sane, and without you i was losing my shit. there’s nothing wrong with you ma, and i apologize for making you feel that way."

your eyes go a little bit wider, and you finally respond, "i love you too paige, i always have. forget what other people think p, nobody matters but me with you." you smile wide at her and she smiles back, finally feeling content with herself, knowing she said what needed to be said, and could kiss you whenever she wanted to.

she leans in to kiss you, but you stop her.

"what cmon, i can't kiss you now?" she said to you while rolling her eyes.

"you said you wanted it to be special right?" you grab her hand and hold it for a while.

"yes ma'am i did," she says, leading you out of the bathroom and back to the gym, where another slow song has started. she quickly rests her hands on your waist, your hands on her shoulders, as you two sway to the song blasting through the cheap speakers the school borrowed.

"god, you look beautiful baby." paige says, finally taking in all of your perfection. your hair, makeup, and jewelry aligned perfectly, fitting you so well, she just loved looking at you. before you two continue dancing, she pulls her phone out of her dress pants pocket, and while she does so you take a good look at her. she looks stunning. a black button up and black dress pants, a silver chain completing the look. she goes to her camera app, and you kiss her on the cheek as a pose for the picture. she snaps multiple and eagerly changes her lockscreen.

"i love seeing this beautiful face everytime i turn my phone on," she says, you roll your eyes out of her corniness, but it still makes you blush. you also take a picture of the two of you, and you update your lockscreen as well.

"and i love seeing yours, and plus, this button up looks a little too good on you," you tell her, making her bite her lip slightly.

she grabs your hand and twirls you, bringing you back in, your faces exceptionally close to one another. the slow song comes to and end, and paige takes one hand off of your waist to cup your face, and connects her lips with yours and utters the words that make you happy to have met her,

"i love you y/n."

"i love you too paige."

and for the first time, you knew you had a forever person, and that person was paige bueckers.

HEY BAD BITCHESSS!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDD I KNOW THERE’S NOT MANY HOPKINS FICS OUT THERE SO I WANTED TO TRY! i’ll try and be consistent with posting, just bare with me 🙂‍↕️ love you

tags: @rosemariiaa @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter

🫶🏽🫶🏽

the collage that “would’ve been posted”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Could you perhaps write something? It’s the readers birthday and Reid waits all day to see if she brings it up, but they never do. So he shows up at her apartment with a gift for her and tells her he’ll always remember her birthday, even if she doesn’t tell anyone when it is. And then a little smut occurs. 😱

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, forgotten birthday

Word count: 7.9k

a/n: this is such a great idea i'm so sorry it took me forever to get around to writing it !! it's probably way smuttier than you thought lolol i was in a smut slump but we're back !

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving) protected PinV

The day unfolds like any other, with the usual rush of paperwork, coffee runs, and the occasional moment of laughter echoing through the bullpen. You stay focused on your work, avoiding any unnecessary interactions that might draw attention to yourself. After all, it’s your birthday, but you’ve chosen to keep that to yourself. It feels strange, withholding such personal information, but in a high-stakes environment like this, there’s a part of you that prefers to blend into the background. Birthdays aren't meant to be a spectacle here. 

You glance around the room, noticing the typical energy coursing through the space, unaware that a pair of eyes have been subtly watching you all morning. Spencer Reid, as meticulous with people as he is with facts, has always been someone who notices the little things others tend to miss. Today, it’s your silence, the absence of a celebratory card, or a slice of cake that catches his attention. He’s well aware of what today means, not because you told him, but because he knows. Just like he knows the birthdays of every other team member, except yours is different—yours matters more to him. 

Spencer taps his pen against his notebook, his gaze drifting toward you. He debates internally whether to say anything, to let you know he’s aware. He’s read enough about social norms to understand that birthdays often come with expectations—balloons, cake, a few awkwardly sung lines of "Happy Birthday"—but that’s not your style. He’s noticed how you avoid the spotlight, how you prefer quiet moments over public celebrations. Still, he wonders if there’s something you’re hoping for today.

Penelope, typically the beacon of all things celebratory, hasn’t said anything either. But Spencer figures you’ve kept it quiet on purpose. He knows Penelope would have plastered the office with decorations had she been aware, and since the office remains as normal as ever, Spencer figures you’re not in the mood for that kind of attention.

He watches you, waiting for a sign—a smile, a quick glance his way, anything that might suggest you’d appreciate a private acknowledgment. When nothing comes, he respects your decision, but there’s a gnawing feeling inside him. Birthdays are supposed to be special, and even though you’ve chosen not to celebrate, he can’t just let it pass without doing something. Not for you.

The day comes to an end, and not a single word has been spoken about your birthday. You’ve kept it quiet, of course, but still, the silence lingers a bit more than you expected. Not from anyone else, and not from you. Spencer has watched the day unfold in his quiet, observant way, and though he knows you’re not one for grand gestures, he can’t let this pass unnoticed. 

After leaving the office, Spencer’s mind is already set on what he needs to do. He stops by your favorite restaurant, carefully picking up dinner. You never told him your favorite spot, but he’s always been the kind of person who pays attention to the little things—especially when it comes to you. He takes pride in knowing these details, even if he’s never made a show of it.

From there, he heads to a local bakery, the door chiming just as the frustrated baker is about to close. Spencer, out of breath and apologetic, manages to convince the baker to stay open just long enough to get a small cake with your name written on it. The generous tip helps, but more than anything, it’s the desperation in Spencer’s voice that softens the baker’s resolve. 

Now, standing outside your front door with his arms full—dinner in one hand, cake in the other—he uses his elbow to press the doorbell, feeling a flicker of nervousness that’s unusual for him. He never shows up unannounced like this, but he knows this is different. This matters.

Inside, you’re curled up on the couch, completely absorbed in the book your parents sent you as a gift. It’s one you’ve been dying to read for months, and it’s been the perfect way to end your quiet day. The unexpected ring of the doorbell pulls you from your peaceful moment, your brow furrowing slightly as you set the book down. 

You tiptoe toward the door, glancing out the sheer blinds to see who it could possibly be at this hour. When you spot Spencer standing there, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the door, a confused grin tugging at your lips.

"Reid?" you ask, your voice light but puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

He shifts awkwardly, his arms still burdened with dinner and the cake, and there’s a sheepishness in his expression that’s both endearing and unexpected. 

"Happy birthday," he says, though it comes out more like a question, his uncertainty evident.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, the surprise of his gesture hitting you all at once. You glance at the dinner in one hand, the cake in the other, and something warm blooms in your chest.

"Thank you," you say, your voice soft as you open the door wider. "Come in, please."

Spencer followed you into the kitchen, his eyes subtly taking in the details of your small, cozy home. It occurred to you that this was the first time he had ever been inside, and that realization only added to the strange, fluttery feeling that had been building inside you since he showed up at your door.

He set the bags down on the counter, the quiet clinking of takeout containers filling the brief silence between you. 

“How, um... how did you know it was my birthday?” you asked softly, a hint of shyness in your voice. 

Spencer didn’t look up immediately, making himself busy with the food, carefully unpacking it as though it were an everyday task. “I would never forget your birthday, Y/N,” he replied, his voice so matter-of-fact yet warm. 

His words struck something deep inside you, and your heart swelled all over again, the warmth spreading through your chest and into your limbs. “Reid... that's so sweet,” you murmured, barely able to contain the emotion in your voice.

He smiled over his shoulder at you, that soft, almost boyish grin that made everything feel lighter. “I hope this is okay,” he said, turning around to show you what he had brought. “I guessed you’d like this.”

You blinked, staring at the familiar containers in his hands, and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just any takeout—it was your favorite order from your absolute favorite restaurant. Your mind struggled to process how he could have known, and your body felt like it was on the verge of exploding with a tidal wave of affection and gratitude.

“H–how?” you stammered, unable to get out anything more coherent as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Spencer shrugged in that sweet, almost bashful way he did sometimes, his eyes meeting yours as he simply said, “I pay attention.”

Those three words hit you harder than anything else he could’ve said. It wasn’t just the dinner, or the cake, or even the fact that he’d remembered your birthday without you saying a word—it was that he saw you, truly noticed you, in ways you didn’t think anyone ever did.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your eyes soft and full of everything you couldn’t put into words. “Reid, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you whispered, but there was no mistaking the happiness in your tone.

He smiled gently, placing the food down on the counter. “I know,” he said, his voice soft, “but I wanted to.”

And just like that, your quiet birthday became something more than you ever could have expected—because of him.

As the two of you settled into an easy rhythm of conversation over dinner, it felt surprisingly natural—despite the unexpectedness of the evening. You sat across from each other at your small kitchen table, the soft clinking of forks against takeout containers punctuating the space between your words. Spencer, usually so reserved and careful, seemed more relaxed, as if the intimacy of the moment had broken down some of his usual barriers.

“You know,” Spencer began between bites, “this restaurant has one of the highest customer satisfaction ratings in the area. I didn’t just pick it at random—I wanted to make sure it was perfect.” He looked up at you, his eyes bright with sincerity.

You smiled, taking in how thoughtful he had been without even realizing how much it meant to you. "I can’t believe you went to so much trouble for this. I really don’t expect anything big for my birthday."

Spencer shrugged, his expression so genuine it made your heart ache just a little. "Well, it’s not just any day. It’s your day. And you deserve to feel special."

His words landed gently, but with a depth that made your pulse quicken. You had always seen Spencer as more than a colleague, but you’d never really considered him in a romantic light. The way he was speaking tonight, though, made you notice things about him you hadn’t before.

“You’re really thoughtful, Reid,” you said, picking at your food, your voice soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone remember the little things like you do.”

He glanced at you with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up slightly. “I like to notice the important things. People tend to overlook those details, but they matter.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you suddenly realized how much attention he must’ve been paying all this time. Spencer was always observant—he was a profiler, after all—but this was different. He was talking about you, not in a way that made you feel studied, but in a way that made you feel seen.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that,” you replied, your voice light, though your heart felt anything but. “Most people don’t pay that much attention.”

Spencer looked at you intently then, his gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s hard not to pay attention to you.”

The statement was simple, but the way he said it felt like something more. You felt your cheeks warm, caught off guard by the realization that Spencer Reid might see you in a way you hadn’t seen yourself.

“Reid, I—” you started, but he interrupted, not even realizing the shift in the conversation.

“And you’re always so organized with your case files,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “I appreciate that about you. You make my job easier, and honestly, it’s hard not to enjoy working with you.”

You laughed softly, feeling flustered but trying to keep it light. “You make me sound like I’m perfect or something.”

He tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I’ve always thought you were... well, pretty amazing.”

“I... I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted quietly, playing with your fork to avoid looking directly at him.

Spencer, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his own words, shrugged again. “I'm not always good at saying what I’m thinking, but you’ve always stood out to me. I guess it’s just… obvious to me.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for the first time, you found yourself really considering Spencer Reid in a different light. Sure, he was brilliant, kind, and more attractive than you’d ever let yourself dwell on—but you had never imagined he might see you that way.

You felt... average. Just you. How could someone like Spencer, with his genius mind and thoughtful nature, possibly see you as anything more than a friend or colleague?

As you looked across the table at him, his expression soft and open, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you had been wrong about where you stood with him.

After the plates were cleared, you and Spencer sat side by side, laughing as you decided to abandon any pretense of formality and dig into the cake with forks. It was just the two of you, after all, and the evening had become too comfortable for anything else. Every bite seemed to add to the warmth between you, and even though neither of you had touched a drop of alcohol, it felt like you were both intoxicated—drunk on the unexpected affection and connection between you.

You noticed Spencer watching you with an intensity that was both thrilling and unsettling. His gaze felt heavier than usual, more present, more... intentional. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little self-conscious under his watchful eyes. “What?” you asked, your voice light but breathless as your lips curled into a small, uncertain smile.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, a sound so gentle it sent warmth coursing through you. He shifted closer, his hand lifting, and before you could process what was happening, his palm was cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed across your lips tenderly, lingering there. 

“You have...” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, “some frosting.”

His touch was electric, sending a shiver through you, though you were frozen in place. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but you couldn’t move. Spencer's thumb continued to gently trace the curve of your bottom lip, the moment stretching between you, thick with something you hadn’t realized was there until now.

He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “Y/N… I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

His words, soft and tentative, sent your pulse racing, and you barely registered the nod you gave in response. But that was all he needed. Spencer's gaze flicked down to your lips, and he closed the remaining distance slowly, as if giving you every chance to stop him, though you knew you wouldn’t.

His lips met yours gently, a hesitant kiss that was soft, warm, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you, locked in something fragile and sweet.

Spencer’s hand stayed cradling your face as he deepened the kiss just slightly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his forehead rested gently against yours, and his eyes were still closed as if he were savoring the moment.

“Was that okay?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion, still holding onto the last traces of your kiss.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. “Mhm, very okay,” you whispered, smiling softly as your heart raced in your chest.

Spencer opened his eyes slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The room felt heavier with meaning now, but it was the kind of weight you welcomed, a sense that things had shifted between you in the best possible way.

“Can I do it again?” Spencer asked, his voice playful, his lips pulling into a silly grin that made your heart flip. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, your cheeks warming as you nodded once more. This time, though, you didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You leaned up toward him, your hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck, your fingers gently threading through the soft strands of his hair.

Spencer’s hands moved from where they had been resting on your face, sliding down to your waist as he pulled you in closer, your bodies now pressed together with a new, delicious kind of tension. He let out a soft, happy hum, the sound vibrating through you, making you feel like your entire body was alight with warmth. 

When you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring your mouth with such tender care, you couldn’t help the soft, sweet moan that escaped you. The sound seemed to stir something in Spencer, and you felt his fingers tighten on your waist just as a low, deep groan rumbled from his chest.

Encouraged by his reaction, you tangled your fingers further into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The world outside this moment seemed to fade even more, leaving just the feeling of Spencer against you, the intoxicating heat between your bodies, and the soft sounds of contentment that passed between you both.

Each kiss was deeper than the last, each touch more deliberate, as if you were both slowly learning a new language made of gentle caresses and lingering glances. Spencer’s lips were soft and insistent against yours, but always so tender, as if he was savoring each moment, never wanting to rush. The feeling of his body pressed so intimately against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go, made your pulse race.

Spencer pulled back ever so slowly, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You let out a soft whine, your body instinctively leaning forward, both at the loss of his lips and the delicious pull of his teeth. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured, his voice soft and almost breathless, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your heart skipped at his words, and you tilted your head slightly, curiosity getting the better of you. "How long?" you asked, your voice just as quiet, as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy between you.

Spencer laughed, the sound low and almost bashful. "Two years and three months," he said with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your skin.

You paused for a moment, realizing how specific that time frame was. Then it hit you. "That's... that's when I started at the BAU," you said slowly, your mind racing to piece it together.

He nodded, his forehead still resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between. "Since the first day I saw you, I knew you were special."

His words hung in the air, and something inside you shifted. You could feel the weight of his confession settle in your chest, and it only made the moment feel more intense, more real. Spencer had been feeling this way for so long, waiting patiently, watching from the sidelines, all without you ever knowing.

That’s when you made your decision.

"Take me to the bedroom, Reid," you said, your voice steady but filled with anticipation.

Spencer pulled back instantly, his eyes wide in surprise, his expression almost comically stunned. "What?"

You held his gaze, your hand gently brushing his cheek as you repeated, more softly this time, "The bedroom, please?" You threw in your best puppy dog eyes, knowing it would be hard for him to say no.

For a moment, Spencer was frozen, his mind clearly racing to catch up with the reality of what was happening. "Okay—yeah, yeah," he stammered, still in shock but unable to hide the excitement building in his voice.

He stood back quickly, offering his hand to you with a mix of eagerness and hesitation. You took it, letting him pull you gently from the kitchen, the warmth of his palm against yours sparking something deep inside you. As he led you down the hallway toward the bedroom, your heart raced, the anticipation growing with every step. 

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind you, your hands were already tugging at Spencer’s sweater vest, pulling it over his head with eager fingers. His usually neat hair was left a little wild and messy, and you couldn't help but giggle softly at the sight. He grinned back at you, shaking his head like a dog trying to shake off water, making you laugh even harder.

"You're ridiculous," you teased, but your words were laced with affection.

Spencer just smiled wider, his eyes filled with mischief and desire. Without missing a beat, his hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up as you raised your arms in surrender, allowing him to undress you with deliberate care. The fabric slipped over your head, and as soon as it was discarded to the floor, you could feel his gaze roaming over your body.

His eyes lingered on your chest, clearly noticing the absence of a bra, and the way his breath caught sent a shiver through you. There was something so intense, so reverent in the way he looked at you that it made your skin tingle. His hands found their way to your breasts, his touch gentle yet filled with hunger, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Without another word, Spencer dipped his head back down, capturing your lips in another kiss that left you breathless. This time, it was deeper, more urgent, as if all the emotions he'd been holding back for years were pouring into this moment. His thumbs rubbed at your nipples as he kissed you, and you could feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own as you whined softly into his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his hair again, tangling in the soft strands as you pressed your body closer to his, craving more of him, more of the way his lips moved against yours, more of the way his hands explored you.

The moment you felt the unmistakable press of Spencer’s arousal against you, your instincts took over. Your hands trailed down, quickly working at the waistband of his pants, eager to feel more of him. Spencer’s fingers left your body only long enough to undo the buttons of his shirt, your breaths becoming heavier as the distance between you both shrank even more.

Soon, he was down to just his briefs, his skin warm against yours, and for a second, you thought he was about to pull you into another kiss. But instead, he surprised you by crouching down in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. You looked down at him with curiosity and amusement, tilting your head.

“What are you doing down there?” you asked, laughing softly, though your heart was racing.

Spencer looked up at you, and the look in his eyes sent a rush of warmth through your body. There was something almost reverent about the way he gazed at you, like you were the most precious thing he'd ever laid eyes on. “I have wanted this for so, so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to savor every little bit of you.”

His words made you flush with heat, the intensity of his desire crashing over you like a wave. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and before you could say anything in response, Spencer's hands were moving again, removing the last pieces of your clothing as he kissed the newly exposed skin. 

And then, you were standing completely bare before him, your most intimate parts now level with his face. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the raw hunger in Spencer’s eyes, made you feel dizzy, but you couldn’t look away.

It seemed like this was exactly what he had wanted all along. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin before his tongue traced a sure stripe through your slick folds. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, your knees almost buckling from the sheer intensity of it.

A gasp escaped your lips as Spencer continued, his mouth working with a determination that made it clear this was something he had imagined countless times before. His hands gripped your thighs, steadying you as he continued his ministrations, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes designed to unravel you from the inside out.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair once again as he savored you, just like he said he would.

"You taste better than I imagined," Spencer murmured between breaths, his voice thick with desire before he dove back in, his mouth moving over every inch of you, leaving no part untouched. His tongue was thorough, his lips relentless, and each movement made it harder for you to hold on to any coherent thoughts.

Your grip on his hair tightened as a desperate whimper escaped your lips. "You—ungh—you imagined this?" you managed to gasp out between moans, your voice shaky and breathless.

Spencer hummed against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his mouth latching onto your clit with more intensity, suctioning his lips tightly before shaking his head back and forth, creating a sensation so intense it made you scream out, your body trembling with the force of it.

The sound that left you was raw, completely involuntary, as waves of pleasure rolled through you, Spencer's hands gripping your thighs tighter to hold you steady as you lost yourself in the moment. He was relentless, devouring you with an eagerness that matched his earlier words. It was clear he had thought about this—dreamed about this—and now, with you here in front of him, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

"Reid..." you moaned, your voice breaking as your entire body responded to his touch, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Each movement of his tongue, each gentle bite or hum, pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on tight, letting him take you wherever he wanted you to go.

But then, just as you were teetering on the edge, Spencer pulled back, leaving you breathless and aching for more. The sudden absence of his touch made your body tremble, a desperate whine escaping your lips. When you looked down, confused and still dazed with pleasure, you noticed the almost stern look in his eyes, his lips glistening as he gazed up at you.

"Spencer," he said, his voice low, full of intent.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your mind hazy from the high you had been riding. "What?" you managed to ask, your voice breathless and needy.

His eyes softened, but his expression remained firm. "Call me Spencer," he repeated, his tone a mixture of command and affection, as if this small detail mattered more than anything in that moment.

Before you could fully process it, he leaned back in, parting you gently with his thumbs to give himself even more access. The feeling was overwhelming, your body trembling as he resumed his ministrations with renewed intensity, his tongue and mouth working in tandem, more precise and focused than before.

The need in you swelled again, even stronger than before, and this time, you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. "Spencer," you gasped, his name escaping your lips like a prayer, your body arching into him as he pushed you further and further toward the edge.

Hearing his name on your lips seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more deliberate as he devoured you with every ounce of the hunger he had been holding back. You were completely at his mercy, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as he brought you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure, his name falling from your lips again and again.

Spencer could sense how close you were, your breath hitching and your body trembling beneath his touch. He doubled his efforts, his tongue moving with precision and urgency, his fingers pressing against your thighs to keep you steady. The need to see you completely unravel, to give you that release, spurred him on as he focused entirely on you.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, and then, finally, the tension that had been building in your core snapped. You tilted your head back, your body arching as the overwhelming pleasure took over. With a loud, uncontrolled moan, your hands found Spencer’s hair, gripping it tightly, tugging hard as you released, your body shuddering and your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.

Spencer didn’t stop, his mouth never leaving you as he worked you through your climax, swallowing everything you offered him. The feel of your fingers gripping his hair, the way your body shook as you released in his mouth—it was everything he’d dreamed of, and more. Only when your body began to calm, your breath evening out, did he slowly pull back, his lips brushing against your skin one last time, savoring the moment.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of satisfaction as you slowly came back to reality. You were still breathless, your body weak from the intensity of your orgasm, but the way Spencer looked at you, filled with awe and admiration, made you feel like you were floating.

"That," he murmured softly, "was everything."

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, still floating in the afterglow, your head in the clouds, your body humming with the remnants of pleasure. Spencer slowly rose from his knees, his hands gently skimming your skin as he stood to his full height, a soft, amused smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“You with me, beautiful?” he asked, his voice full of warmth and amusement as he stroked your hair, fingers threading through the strands tenderly.

You blinked up at him, your eyes still hazy with satisfaction, but your smile was soft and content. “I’m with you,” you replied, voice breathy but sincere, your whole body feeling like it was made of light.

Spencer chuckled, the sound affectionate and full of something deeper. “Good, good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Do you want to keep going?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, and the way you said, “Please, Spencer,” made his heart race with excitement and affection.

Spencer grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he gently guided you down onto the pillows, his hands firm but tender. He leaned over you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Anything for the birthday girl.”

With that, Spencer lowered himself over you, his body pressing against yours with a sweet, delicious heat. You could feel the warmth of him, the anticipation growing as his lips found yours once again, slow and lingering, savoring every second. His hands explored your body as though he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin, and the way he touched you made your heart race all over again.

This wasn’t just about physical pleasure anymore—it was about something deeper, something that had been quietly building between you both for much longer than either of you had realized.

"Can you..." you started, but then hesitated, suddenly feeling a wave of shyness crash over you. This was Reid, after all, your colleague and friend, someone you'd see at work tomorrow. The reality of that hit you, and it made your heart race for an entirely different reason now.

Spencer, noticing the shift in your demeanor, raised an eyebrow, his voice soft and reassuring. "Can I what, darling?" he asked, a small, amused smile on his lips as he looked down at you.

You shook your head, trying to brush it off, but Spencer’s expression quickly shifted to concern. His hands, which had been tracing gentle patterns on your skin, paused, and his voice became softer, more serious. "Y/N... are you okay?"

You let out a quiet sigh, nodding, but there was still a lingering tension in your chest. "Just... is this going to be weird tomorrow?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment, the emotions wrapped up in everything that had just happened—it suddenly felt fragile when faced with the idea of seeing him at the office the next day, going back to the usual routine like nothing had changed.

Spencer's face softened even more, and he tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. "Weird?" he repeated, his voice thoughtful, as if he was carefully considering your words. He shifted slightly, his hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "No, Y/N, this doesn’t have to be weird."

You blinked up at him, your heart settling slightly at his calm demeanor. He continued, his voice gentle but certain. "We can take it one day at a time, okay? But if you're worried about work, nothing between us will change unless you want it to. I care about you too much to let this ruin anything.”

"If anything, this makes everything better," Spencer continued softly, his eyes full of sincerity as his hand stayed gently on your cheek. "I’ve wanted to be close to you for so long. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up or make you feel uncomfortable. We can handle this however you want—slow, steady, or even just keeping it between us for now."

His words soothed the unease that had started to form, the tenderness in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t rushing anything, wasn’t trying to push for something more than what you were ready for. Spencer, as always, was careful, deliberate, and understanding. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, made you feel safe, even in this new, uncertain territory.

You took a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. "I just… I don’t want this to change things in a bad way," you admitted, your fingers lightly brushing over his arm as he hovered over you, your bodies still close but the air between you calmer now.

Spencer shook his head, his smile warm and full of affection. "It won’t. I promise. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you. And we’ll figure out whatever this is together, one step at a time. You don’t have to worry about work or anything else right now. Just... be here with me tonight."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, his words grounding you in the moment. The fear of what tomorrow might bring began to fade as you looked up at him, trusting that Spencer, with all his care and thoughtfulness, would never let this turn into something that would hurt either of you.

"Okay," you whispered, offering him a small smile. "I’m here with you."

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft, almost shy grin as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hands once again finding their way to your waist, holding you close as if reassuring you through his touch.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and comforting. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

With that, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the moment. Spencer guided you back onto the pillows, his movements slow and deliberate as he kissed you again, this time with more ease and tenderness, making it clear that whatever happened next would be on your terms, whenever you were ready.

Spencer groaned deeply into your mouth as you pushed his briefs down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. You guided him into position, your need for him clear in the way your body responded. His lips never left yours, but his breath grew more ragged as the tension between you mounted.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, his voice thick with restraint.

You whimpered in response, the feeling of him grinding against you, the tip of his cock hitting your clit, making it impossible to think of anything else. “Please, Spencer,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “I want you so badly. Please.”

He let out a strained groan, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as your words washed over him. "Okay, okay," he whispered, trying to soothe you even though he was losing his own control. "Shh, you never have to beg me for anything, ever."

Your body writhed beneath him, desperate for more, for him, and you shifted your hips instinctively, trying to coax him to push inside. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and your need for him was palpable in every shaky breath you took.

Spencer, however, managed to hold onto a sliver of resolve, even as it wore thin. "Y/N, beautiful," he said, his voice rough, "we need to use a condom."

"Top drawer," you gasped, your words nearly a plea as your body moved beneath him, craving the release only he could give you. "Hurry!"

With a nod, Spencer fumbled toward the bedside table, pulling the drawer open with shaky hands. He found the box quickly, tearing it open with urgency. Your eyes stayed locked on him, watching every movement, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin burning with need.

He returned to you swiftly, sliding the condom on with practiced care, though his hands were trembling. The moment he was ready, he positioned himself above you again, his eyes filled with both desire and affection as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slower, savoring the feel of your lips against his.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice softer now, filled with reassurance as he finally pressed forward, slowly pushing inside of you, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure crashing through both of you.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud, satisfied moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely, your body welcoming him in a way that felt natural, perfect. Spencer groaned, his breath hitching as he felt your tight walls constrict even further around him. 

"Y/N, darling, relax, please," Spencer panted, his voice laced with both urgency and concern as he struggled to hold himself back, his body tense with restraint. He could feel your tightness, the way you clenched around him, and it was driving him wild, making it hard to stay in control. 

You whimpered, your body still adjusting to the sensation. "You're just—ah!" Your voice broke into a loud gasp as he finally pushed all the way inside, filling you completely. The stretch was intense, overwhelming in the best way. "You're so big... why didn't you tell me you were so big?"

Spencer let out a tense chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction despite his own effort to keep himself in check. "I, uh... didn't think it was that big," he managed to get out, his breath shaky as he looked down at you, his forehead damp with sweat from the strain of holding himself back. 

“You’re a fucking liar,” you laughed breathlessly through your whimpers and whines, your body trembling with both pleasure and amusement.

His chuckle, though filled with affection, was also tight with restraint, and you could feel the tension in his body as he tried to keep from moving too quickly. "Just... breathe," he murmured, his voice gentler now as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, trying to calm both you and himself. "I'll give you as much time as you need. I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, taking deep breaths as your body slowly adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. Spencer’s hands stayed gentle, stroking your sides and thighs as he gave you time to acclimate, though you could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

After a moment, you shifted your hips, testing the sensation, and the movement elicited a low groan from Spencer, his self-control wavering. "Okay..." you whispered, your voice soft but filled with need. "I’m ready."

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he slowly began to move. His pace was careful at first, each thrust deliberate as he let your body adjust to his size, but the tension between you built quickly, and soon, the rhythm grew more urgent, more desperate.

Each movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, the sensation of him filling you so completely making you dizzy with desire. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he moved so perfectly in sync with you, as if you were made for each other.

Spencer groaned deeply, his forehead pressing against yours again as his movements grew more intense. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice strained as he fought to hold himself back just a little longer, wanting to make this last as long as possible for both of you.

"Spencer!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Yeah, baby?" he panted, his voice rough and breathless as his hips slapped against yours in a steady, rhythmic motion. "Tell me what you need."

"You! More! Please!" Your voice was a desperate plea, every inch of your body burning with want.

"Fuck," he breathed, his control slipping as he sped up, his thrusts becoming more intense. His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub you in time with his movements. The sensation made you cry out again, the combination of his fingers and his body sending you spiraling toward the edge.

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you whined, your body trembling as you clenched tightly around Spencer, the sensation pushing you toward the brink.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice strained as he tried to hold on. “Calm down, baby, you’re going to push me out.”

But you were too far gone to hear him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you. Your whimpers grew louder, your body thrashing uncontrollably as Spencer’s fingers moved faster, working in perfect rhythm with your body's need.

Suddenly, it hit you all at once, the most intense release you’d ever experienced. You let out a violent scream, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, something deeper and more powerful than anything you'd ever felt before.

Your walls clenched so tightly that you did, in fact, push Spencer out, and you gushed all over him, your body overwhelmed by the force of your orgasm. Spencer let out a low groan at the sensation, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and arousal as he watched you come undone in front of him, watched your release coat his stomach and thighs.

“Did you just... squirt?” Spencer asked, his voice full of pure awe as he looked down at you, his eyes wide with amazement.

You were a panting mess on the bed, completely spent from the intensity of what had just happened. “That, or I just peed on you,” you mumbled, half-joking but still trying to make sense of the overwhelming sensation you had just felt.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head as he dipped down to kiss you, his lips soft against yours. “You are so sexy, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice full of affection and admiration.

You kissed him back tiredly, your body too exhausted to do much more, but the desire to give him what he needed still lingered. "Want you to come too," you whined softly, your words almost pleading.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer soothed, his breath hitching as he positioned himself once more, slowly pushing back inside you. The sensation made your body jolt, and you cried out, your back arching from the overstimulation. It was too much and yet not enough, the oversensitivity sending sharp pulses of pleasure through you.

“Are you okay, darling?” Spencer asked, his voice breathless as he fought to hold himself back, concerned about your comfort.

You nodded quickly, though your body was trembling beneath him. “Nuh huh,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you gripped him tightly, pulling him closer. “I’m okay, I want this. Please,” you urged, your body still sensitive but craving the closeness, needing to feel him chase his own release.

Spencer groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he began to move again, thrusting into you with an increasing pace. His body was tense, his breath ragged as he neared the edge, each movement sending both of you into a dizzying spiral of pleasure.

You clung to him as he chased his release, your breaths mingling, your bodies connected in a way that felt intimate and overwhelming all at once. And when Spencer finally let go, his body shuddering as he found his own climax, you held him close as he groaned and whispered your name. 

After Spencer had taken care of both of you, gently cleaning you up and even changing the sheets that had been soaked in your release, the two of you finally settled into bed, wrapped up in each other's arms. His body was warm against yours, his breath steady as he held you close. Everything felt so perfect, so right in that moment, like the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that cozy little space.

You nuzzled into Spencer's chest, feeling his heartbeat under your lips as you placed a soft kiss there. "I want things to be different," you mumbled, your voice quiet and filled with a softness that made his heart swell.

Spencer looked down at you, his hand stroking your hair gently. "Yeah?" he asked, the happiness in his voice evident. "Different how?"

You shifted slightly, still cuddled close, your lips brushing over his skin. "I want everyone to know," you murmured, your voice more certain this time.

Spencer chuckled softly, though he held you tighter, a smile spreading across his face. "Know what exactly?" he asked, teasing slightly, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes with a sweet, serious look. "That you're my boyfriend," you said, your voice full of affection, but also with a sense of determination.

Spencer’s heart fluttered at your words, and he couldn’t help but break into a grin. He’d never thought he’d hear you say something so simple yet so powerful. "Boyfriend, huh?" he teased softly, though his own voice was thick with emotion. He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. "I think I’d like that," he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you like a blanket. "Good," you replied, kissing him softly. "Because I want everyone to know how lucky I am."

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his thumb gently tracing the outline of your face. "I think I’m the lucky one, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but pure, overwhelming happiness. And in that moment, with the two of you wrapped up in each other, everything felt like it was exactly as it should be.

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tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance 

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[icallhimjoey]

supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

---

Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.   

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.” 

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

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add yourself

[ronanceautistic]

I love the idea of like, on the surface it looks like Nancy is the one conforming with the traditional values and societal expectation but in reality Robin is the one with that mindset.

Hear me out okay. I feel like basically so many kids who grew up as girls have had this experience of like aggressively hating girly stuff as like a form of internalised misogyny. And I like the idea of Robin - especially in a Rebel Robin universe - having that mindset of how she's always been treated different and wrong by the girls who wear pink and love clothes and care about the way they dress. So she's not conforming to that and she's gonna be different and refuse to touch any of the things those kinds of people like!

And then she meets Nancy, who likes all of those things, but also sees the gun-wielding, mouthy, nerdy side of her and her brain is like "how can those two qualities possibly co-exist" and she goes on like a crusade to prove to Nancy she's been like shackled by gender roles. And then I think Nancy opens up to Robin about her experience working at the Hawkins Post and being like, yeah, being born a girl sucks sometimes, but these lil hair clips are cute as hell.

And I think the more Robin starts paying attention and stops seeing Nancy the way she always saw her at school she realises Nancy just like, likes stuff. She has hair clips and pink sweaters and leather gloves and combat boots. She wears pastel floral skirts and blouses and dark brown jackets and plaid shirts. She's got cat ornaments and teddy bears and pictures of graveyards stuck to her wall. And she's ultra polite to strangers but swears like a sailor.

And when they hang out together Robin notices Nancy's willingness to try absolutely everything Robin likes, she steals Robin's comfortable clothes, tries on her rings and earrings and sometimes they go missing and Robin knows Nancy took them. And she thinks about her own aversion to Nancy's stuff and thinks 'if someone as different as Nancy Wheeler can like all this stuff then why am I so scared of it?'

Anyways!

[cerisemerald]

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

[gguk-n]

Alternate Universe (Daniel Riccardo x Reader)

Summary- You're in college when there's an invasion. You and your friend try to find a route to safety but end up being the chosen one to fix this problem. What if you try to find a solution but end up in a different world and don't know how to come back?

{Reader's POV}

I was a simple college student who was trying to get her Masters Degree and be done with this college once and for all. Honestly, I hated the college I went to and I had to settle for it due to my family wanting me to be closer to them instead of going to another one that was in another city since this one was in the city I grew up. I had conceded and right now I hated my college with a burning passion. The only good thing that came out of joining this college was the friend I made along the way.

I was a poor judge of character is what I realised soon after I joined. I had made friends with people who laughed at my expense and the moment someone or this friend in particular stood up for me; all hell broke lose and now I felt like I was in high-school all over again and surrounded by kids who fought about the pettiest of things. That's how me and Rhea became friends. Quite the unusual situation but hey, if I get a life long friend out of it, so be it.

Now today, was just another day. I had texted Rhea whether she would be coming to class or not and since she said she would, I left for college too. What I didn't expect was that in the middle of the day when we were about to head out for lunch the whole college went into lockdown. It was so sudden, we barely had anytime to react. All the students were ushered into the main building and the Principal was stood there with a microphone.

"Students I have gathered you here today to announce that there has been an outbreak of some sort. People are going crazy and harming their friends and family and any one near them. We've been saved since we were all inside, if you go out you will also be harmed and end up contaminated. I advice you all to stay put until we figure something out."

I immediately called my parents and they said that they had safely gotten home and everyone was at home and safe. I informed them that we were in lockdown in the college and that I was perfectly fine, for now.

There was mass pandemonium and hysteria and everyone was screaming. The principal and the college authority were able to settle everyone down eventually and food was rationed out. Me and Rhea found a place for ourselves in the college halls near the classes. We spent the next few hours just chatting away until there was a large alarm that was sounded. We were informed to evacuate the building since people inside were also affected and told to leave. Since the college was shut we were stuck. We saw people killing people and it was unbelievable. I felt like I was in my own sci-fi movie. Me and Rhea started running while actively trying to avoid the swarms of people that were trying to kill anyone and everyone. We found stuff along the way that would help us like knifes and sticks.

After running around for a while, we found a tightly shut room in the next building. We had never been there and it would usually be locked but not this time. We opened the door to an almost empty room and locked it behind us. A few feet away from the door was a latched door. We opened it and decided to climb out of this windowless room. Maybe this would lead to safety. After some time, we ended up running into an old man in the tunnels. Both of us screamed and almost hit the aged man. He was quite short maybe only 4 feet with a hunched back and a stick for support. His beard was long and covered half his body, wearing a grey clock.

"You are just in time" the old man crocked. "Who are you?" we asked calming ourselves down. "I'm here to help you." he said. "We just want to get out of here. We wanna go home" I said. "You are the chosen ones" he whispered. "We are not, we are dumb college students that wanna go home. This isn't fucking dora the explorer or the purge" Rhea huffed. "Children, you must understand, the world is in danger and you can save it. There are somethings you must collect and make your journey forward. There will be a door and it will help you solve the problem at hand. You will need a peacock feather, ash of precious rock, hair of a fair rabbit and last but not the least a stone from the house of the keeper" he announced. "Ok, sir, I don't know anything about this. This sounds straight out of Final Fantasy. We wanna go home" I cried. "You can once you find all this, the first 3 things are close by for the last you will have to travel far and wide from the door ahead. Collect everything and I hope to see you here in an hour" he said pushing us back to where we came from.

"That man is unbelievable. This is real life not fantasy. Let's leave from the main gate, we'll just jump it." I said. Rhea nodded her head in agreement. At the main door we were swarmed with hungry people after our flesh. We quickly ran back to the animal shelter on campus. That's where we found a fair rabbit sleeping. Rhea saw the rabbit and said, "Maybe it is our destiny to save the world." She slowly found a shaver and shaved the rabbit off and put his hair and put it in a zip lock bag. I was ready to go along to anything as long as I had Rhea by my side so then we went to the storage where we found the peacock feather in a box. We then headed to the chemistry lab which had coal; a precious rock which burnt to an ash. We burnt the coal and collected it's ash in a bag.

We threaded the area carefully to end up back in the tunnel where the old man had disappeared. "This was a hoax, I told you. Let's go" I said skeptical. "No, let's go ahead. If there's a door we'll follow his advice, if not, we'll head out" Rhea reasoned. After much deliberation, I agreed. We walked forward and after a long while, I saw the door the old man had talked about. Rhea looked at me, "Let's get the last item" she said and opened the door. I expected to be out of the college campus, maybe on the road. The tunnel ahead lead me to some sub-burbs. An area I had never seen before. I'd grown up in this city, I've seen it expand and grow with me; this area was new and foreign to me.

We walked around until I saw a big white house. It was gorgeous, the structure was tall with many floors and balconies, the porch was lined with many cars and you could see many people going about the house doing stuff. We looked a mess, from the chase that happened to threading an underground tunnel, we looked unkept and unruly. "Shooo, go away." the man at the entrance of the white house gate shooed us. "Ugh, these people, where do they come from?" he muttered. "They hear of our master's kindness and come seeking it" another mumbled. "Please, can you tell us where are we?" I asked. "Oldest trick in the book" the previous man sneered. He started pushing us away, "You'll dirty the place, you are disgusting looking" he said pinching his nose close. We fell from the hard push until a man with striking and approachable appearance crouched to our level. He had a warm smile that radiated friendliness and confidence, with a cheeky grin. His dark hair was tousled and slightly wavy, giving him a relaxed vibe. He had an athletic built. His brown eyes were so warm an inviting. He was wearing a casual outfits, a graphic tee paired with jeans and a leather jacket.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked. "I'm fine" I muttered, brushing myself off until I felt a sting in my palm only to find them scrapped. The man who helped me stand saw it, "How many times I have I told you to behave? It was some one who needed help and we cannot be pushing the away like this" he reprimanded the man that pushed me. "I'm so sorry about him. Let's get you fixed up" he suggested. "I don't know who you are" I retreated towards Rhea. The man's eyes softened, "I'm Daniel, Daniel Riccardo. I'm the owner of this house" he said pointing at the white house. "I'm sorry about my staff. Let me make it up to you" he suggested. "Y/N, we don't know where we are. We don't know what we are supposed to do. Let's take his help" Rhea whispered. I sighed "If something happens I'm killing you first" I whispered back, she nodded. "Okay" I told Daniel. "Splendid." he announced leading us in.

He asked his staff to get us clothes and a room where we could freshen up. He had a doctor visit us and look at my scrape. We showered, got changed. I changed into a short white flowy dress. We walked out, "this place is huge and beautiful" I whispered. "I know right, the room he's having us stay at is like a 5 star hotel" Rhea whispered back. We were led to the dinner table which was lined with delicacies of various varieties. It was a spread of any and every kind of meal you could think of. "I didn't know what you would like to eat. So, I had them prepare everything" Daniel said. "That would be wasteful" I exclaimed. "Don't worry, there will be no wastage. I never got your names" he said now standing tall in front of me. "I'm Rhea and this is Y/N" Rhea replied. "What a beautiful name" Daniel mumbled taking my hand in his and kissing it. I pulled it back instantly. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Sorry for startling you, but you are very beautiful and I can not seem to take my eyes off you" he said. Daniel was a very attractive man and I would be lying if I said that it didn't affect me. "Shall we eat?" Rhea coughed. I quickly nodded and took a seat opposite to Daniel. I saw his eyes flicker for a moment but I wasn't sure what they wanted to say, so I dug right in. We'd been so hungry, since a lot of time had passed since our last meal and the weird events of the day.

"Thank you for the meal, Mr Riccardo" I thanked him. "Call me Daniel" he purred. "We'll be leaving soon" I stated. "No, please stay. Stay for as long as you need to" he suggested. "That would be over stepping. Thank you for the meal and clothes and for also doing our laundry. We greatly appreciate it" I said. "Why are you saying no to an attractive man that seems to be interested in you." Rhea whispered. "We're here on a mission. We should finish it and leave" I said. "Please do stay" Daniel insisted. "It's already dark" he said. I agreed to stay the night.

We couldn't fall asleep for whatever reason. So, the two of us started exploring the house. It was big and ornate and had paintings and expensive items littering the place. After walking around for a while, I saw something. It felt familiar but it wasn't, I had never seen this before. A stone in a glass case at the end of a long basement. I was about to touch it when, "What are you doing here?" a voice asked. I turned around to find Daniel. Rhea and I had split up a while back. "I got lost" I stammered. "Why are you out of bed so late?" he tsked and wrapped his hand around my shoulder leading me out. "Couldn't sleep" I mumbled. "I make really good camomile tea" he suggested. We walked in silence, back in the kitchen, his staff was cleaning up when we entered. "Continue your work" Daniel announced and asked me to sit on the chair in the corner. He got the kettle going. I could hear the staff whispering, "He doesn't make himself a cup of tea but he'll make her one." I felt small and awkward there. Daniel soon came back with 2 cups of camomile tea, "Let's enjoy this in the garden" he said leading me out. The garden was just as, if not even more beautiful than the main house. He handed me the cup and we sat there sipping in silence. The moon was big and bright, the sky littered with stars. "Where are you from? I've never seen you around and I know everyone here?" he asked. I started choking on the tea. Daniel started rubbing my back and took the cup from me. After I had settled down, "It's ok, you don't have to tell me now. Whenever you're ready. Just promise me you'll stay" he almost begged. I thought about it for a moment before nodding.

The next day, we sneaked out to find the way we came here but that place was no where to be seen. The small hill from which we had emerged had disappeared. We returned sadly to a very worried Daniel, "Where have you been?" he almost shouted. "We were walking around" I lied. "Don't scare me like that" he said and suddenly wrapped me in a hug. I pushed him away, "Daniel" I said. "Sorry, I was just worried. If you're okay then that's fine" he smiled slowly and went in. We had lunch together but the atmosphere was tense.

We'd been here for almost a month now. Daniel was a gracious host but his staff weren't. We could hear them whisper about how we were leeching off of Daniel. When in reality, if I was not in his vicinity he would freak out. I had yet to understand why that was. My friendship with Daniel had deepened. We would spend our sleepless nights walking the garden or hearing Daniel tell me about his adventures. We spent a lot of time together, even Rhea noticed and asked me about it. I wasn't sure what I felt but I knew it felt different.

"What's that stone in the basement?" I asked one day at our nightly stroll. "I have no clue, my family is supposed to guard it till it's rightful owners come" he replied. "Can I see it?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. Daniel agreed and led me back to the basement where the stone was and I held it in my hand. Some how, I felt it; like this was mine. I was the rightful owner. I placed the stone back and headed to sleep.

The next day, I spoke to Rhea. "I think the stone we are looking for is in the house's basement" I said. "How do you know?" Rhea asked. "Well, Daniel said that his family was supposed to guard a stone till it's rightful owner came and when I held it yesterday, it felt like it was ours. The stone from the house of the keeper. I believe Daniel is the keeper, I'll get it tonight and then we can leave" I said. Rhea looked elated.

At nightfall I asked to see the stone again. We were standing in the basement when, "You can keep it for now, I know you will keep it safe" he said. "How do you know that?" I laughed. He shrugged, "Even if you don't, I don't care" he said. "I just want you to be happy. I just want you to stay with me. I love you Y/N. I think I fell for you the moment I saw you and that's why I wanted to have you stay. I don't care where you came from or what you do. I just know that I need you" he said. I gulped hard, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. "You don't have to say anything, take your time. I'm always here" Daniel explained and we headed back with the stone in my possession.

The next day we tried to find a way out but we were unsuccessful. The next few days, we kept the search up. The whispering among the staff had gotten louder, they said that I was using their master and I had probably cast a spell on him to make him fall for me. That was unbelievable. I couldn't wait to get out of here.

A few weeks later, we found it. A similar tunnel through which we had come. As I stood at it's entrance, I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave, just yet. "let's go" Rhea said, ready to leave. "No, let's wait for a few more days" I said. "What if it disappears?" Rhea sighed exasperated. "It won't" I hoped. I couldn't leave Daniel, I realised that night. As I stood in front of him, his brown eyes bore into mine. "I think I like you too, Daniel" I said abruptly. He looked elated, he cupped my cheeks and leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was warm and soft and familiar. I melted right into his hands.

After the love confession, Daniel was even more tender and loving if that was possible. Rhea wanted to leave, as soon as possible. "I don't think I can leave, I think I love Daniel" I said. "people are dying and we have to save them. We must" she reasoned. "You should leave. I'll stay here" I said. "Don't you miss your family. Won't you miss me?" she asked. "I do and I will but I love Daniel" I said. "I'll wait for you, let's wait for a few more days and then leave" Rhea stated.

We did wait, I only got closer to Daniel. He got me a ring, he showered me in gifts. It overwhelmed me, in a good way. I had never been loved like this. One night just before our nightly stroll, I escaped the house with Rhea. We went to the tunnel and opened the door. When we reached the other side; the old man stood there "Took you long enough" he stated. He took all the things we had collected and started working on it in a huge open field. As the potion simmered, a huge cloud of smoke rose and enveloped everyone and anyone. And then suddenly everything was okay. No more chaos, no more harm. Everything back to normal. "I know you gave what you love to save us, so thank you child" the old man told me. I cried.

Time hadn't passed since we had left. It was like it had stopped. I was able to reunite with my family and even went on to finish my Masters. But I could never forget Daniel. I left all the gifts he got me except the ring; I couldn't get myself to leave it.

One day, I was returning from work when I saw a man that looked an awful lot like Daniel. He was looking around and as our eyes met, he ran to me and hugged me; "I missed you" he whispered in my neck. "Why did you leave me?" he asked. I had tears running down my face. "I love you Daniel, I'm sorry. I had to" I tried to explain. "What happened?" he asked. "I wasn't from your world, I had come there to get the stone so I could save my people." I explained. "Did you?" he asked. "yes" I nodded. "I thought I would go mad when you didn't come to our nightly stroll or when I didn't find you or your belongings in your room" he explained. "I'm sorry" I apologised. "I love you so much, please be mine" he mumbled now crying himself. "I love you too and I'm forever yours" I said. He pressed a kiss against my lip, the feeling was so perfect, like everything just fell into place where it was supposed to be. I saw that old man from afar smiling as he watched Daniel hold me in his embrace.

[angegiarratanawriter]

Unplanned

Warnings: Smut, Intersex Character, Pregnancy

Word Count: 8292

Summary: A hook up after a night at the club has unexpected consequences

After a long shoot week at the Smosh office, some of the cast decides that you all deserve a night out. So, after wrapping on your final sketch on Friday, everyone heads out to Courtney’s favorite club in hopes of being able to let loose for the night. After all, you’ve all worked hard this week and could do with blowing off some steam.

As you walk into the club with Angela and Amanda by your side, you clench your jaw in anticipation. You’ve always liked going out with your friends, but a dive bar with karaoke is much more your scene than the loud music and flashing lights. The feeling of the bass pounding through your chest is already making your heart beat faster, and you readjust the collar of your crop top to give yourself some more room to breathe.

“Bar first?” Angela asks, looking at you and Amanda.

“Sure,” you reply.

“I could use a drink,” Amanda agrees.

You follow Angela up to the bar, where she opens a tab and orders all of you drinks. It’s a little bit surprising that she knows what you want before you do, but she’s always been attentive, and you have been going out together more since you moved in with her. When the bartender comes back with your martini, you take a sip and revel in the shiver that rolls down your spine at the taste.

“Good?” Angela asks, taking a sip of her rum and coke.

“One of the better ones I’ve had,” you say before taking another sip. “It’s a little strong, though.”

“Strong’s good,” Amanda nearly yells, having to raise her voice over the music.

“True.”

Before the conversation can take a turn in a different direction, you are being joined by a couple more of your castmates. Courtney and Shayne show up together, with Arasha and Chanse right behind them. They’re quick to get their own drinks, and then Amanda is ordering a round of shots to really get the party started. You take yours immediately, wanting to get to the other side of the nausea that hits after drinking tequila.

For now, everyone seems to content to stay at the bar, and that’s fine by you. You like dancing, but it’s always better when you’re already a little bit tipsy. When Courtney orders another round of shots, you realize that you’ll probably be there sooner rather than later, not that you really mind either way. This time it’s vodka, and it goes down a little bit smoother than the tequila did.

“Hey,” you hear an unfamiliar voice say from beside you.

You look up to find a girl with short dark hair and brown eyes looking at you with a coy smile on her face. If you’re honest, the smirk reminds you a little bit of Angela. That’s the only reason that you decide to actually talk to this girl. Usually you’d shoot people down when you’re out with your friends, but you’ve got a buzz going, and you realize that this is probably going to be one of those nights where all you think about is your feelings for your roommate.

“Hey,” you say, giving the girl a smile in return.

“I’m Ava. Can I buy you a drink?”

Before you have the chance to answer, you feel a strong arm come to wrap around your waist. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, having not been expecting it. After taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you look up to find that it’s Angela who’s come to stand next to you. She’s glaring at the girl standing across from you, but as soon as she realizes she has your attention, she gives you hers.

“Hey, some of us are gonna go hit the dance floor,” Angela says. “You coming?”

“Uh, I-” You cut yourself off when you feel Angela’s hand squeeze at your waist, a clear indicator that you coming is not a debate. “Sure, yeah.”

With a sheepish smile in apology to the girl who had offered to buy you a drink, you follow your roommate out onto the dance floor. Chanse and Courtney are already there, and you can see Amanda and Arasha on their way back from what you guess is the bathroom. The only one missing is Shayne, but you find him closing out his tab when you glance back at the bar.

The song changes as you reach your friends, and you’re thrust into a throng of bodies dedicated to moving to the beat. You’re able to catch up quickly, moving your hips and throwing your arms in the air, just letting the bass settle deep inside your chest to guide you. The next hour is spent getting lost to the music and just enjoying being in the moment, something that you really haven’t gotten to do in a while. Maybe clubs are more fun than you thought.

As another, more sensual song starts blaring through the speakers, you feel a strong pair of hands grip your waist. A flash of short brown hair catches your eye, and you’re really hoping that the girl from the bar has come back to take another shot, because if it isn’t her, then that would mean that it’s Angela, and you don’t know if you could handle that.

Content to live in the fantasy for as long as you can, you press your hips back and start moving with the music again. The contact is intense, setting your whole body on fire and burning you from the inside out. The buzz that had been running through your veins for most of the night is starting to fizzle out, getting replaced by something else. Fuck, you’re gonna go home with this girl.

That though is only solidified when you grind back again and feel something hard pressing into your ass. You choke back a moan, your eyes closing and your head falling back against your dance partner’s shoulder. This ends up leaving you neck exposed, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel soft lips pressed against a patch of skin just below your ear. A moan does tumble out of your mouth this time, and you hear a soft chuckle that decidedly doesn’t come from bar girl.

“You’re so hot like this,” Angela murmurs in your ear, nipping it lightly. “Such a beautiful mess, and I haven’t even really started yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” you challenge, gasping when she pulls your hips back into hers. “What does ‘started’ look like?”

“Us finding a really dark corner in this place and you getting on your knees for me.”

“As much as I would love that, we really shouldn’t do this here.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby. You think I’m getting in a cab when I’m this hard?”

“Fuck, okay. Together or separate?”

“Together,” Angela answers, biting down roughly on your neck. “Everybody else is distracted, so we don’t have to worry about being seen.”

You nod and start to pull away, but Angela’s hands stay steady on your waist, not letting you move. The action is hot, you’ve always loved a display of strength, but it’s also confusing. Didn’t she just say she wanted to find somewhere more private? When you feel a hand trail in between your bodies and the shift of something hard against your ass, you realize exactly why she had kept you in place.

“What, don’t want anyone to see how turned on you are for me?” you tease.

“Trust me, baby, it has nothing to do with that,” Angela says, leaning closer to your ear. “I couldn’t care less if people saw just how desperate I am for you right now. I just don’t want to get caught before we have the chance to get going.”

“You make a good point. Let’s go.”

As you grab Angela’s hand, you pull her towards the back of the club and down the hallway that houses the bathrooms. You go past them, hoping that there’s some sort of storage closet or something that’s unlocked so that you’re not out in the open. After trying a couple of door knobs, you finally manage to find a room that’s open. You drag Angela inside and lock up behind you before turning on the light to find yourself in what seems to be an office.

“This is as good a place as any,” Angela says, walking behind the desk and leaning back against it. “Over here. On your knees.”

Never one to disobey, you quickly round the desk before moving to kneel for your roommate. Could she technically still be called your roommate after this? You have no idea, and don’t care to find out right now. Instead, you set your sights on the belt that is holding up her jeans and unbuckle it, pulling through the loops. As you toss it to the side, you look up to see her staring down at you with dark eyes.

Swallowing hard, you run your hand over Angela’s length, earning a sigh. You smile as you trail up higher, unbuttoning her jeans and then pulling down the zipper. The sight of her cock straining against her boxers has your eyes widening, and you pause for a minute, wanting to commit all of this to memory. Once you’re sure the image will have a hard time leaving your brain, you pull down her jeans and underwear and start to reach up.

“Wait,” Angela says, grabbing your wrist before you can touch her. “Are you sober enough to consent to this?”

“Yes.”

“And do you consent to this in general?”

“A thousand fucking percent,” you reply.

Angela searches your face for any signs of apprehension or uncertainty, and when she doesn’t find any, she releases your wrist. You smile up at her before moving your attention downwards, reaching out to wrap your fingers around her cock and stroking gently. She lets out a soft sigh, and you decide that your goal tonight is going to be to break her. You want to hear her moan your name.

Wanting to make that a reality as soon as possible, you lean in and lick a line all the way from the base of Angela’s cock all the way up, swirling your tongue around the tip. A hand comes to rest in your hair, encouraging you to keep going, so you do. You dip down and start to take her in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow rhythm. With every bob, you take more of her until your nose is pressing against her stomach. You pause there for a second, looking up.

“Fuck,” Angela grunts. “So good for me. Can I chase it, baby?”

You do your best to nod, and Angela gets the message, because she immediately starts to rut her hips. The feeling of her cock hitting the back of your throat has you dripping, and you briefly consider shoving a hand down your pants just to get some relief before you feel the grip on your hair tighten. She’s close, and you want to focus on getting her there.

As you feel Angela start to tug at your hair, you hollow out your cheeks to create suction while using your tongue to trace the vein on the underside of her cock. You watch as her abs contract, the lines becoming more and more defined the closer to the edge she gets. It’s a beautiful sight to watch, but it doesn’t compare to her throwing her head back and biting down on a moan as she comes.

“Fuck,” Angela says as she comes down. “You-fuck.”

“That good, huh?” you tease as you tuck her cock back into her boxers.

“Better than. Come on, let’s get home so I can return the favor.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“If you think I’m not eating you out after that performance, you are sorely mistaken.”

Deciding not to argue against something you actually want, you stand up and wipe some of the stray spit from the corner of your mouth. Angela tracks the action with a dark gaze, but ends up shaking her head before moving to rezip and button her pants. You grab her belt and hand it to her, and she pulls it through the loops before buckling it in the front.

“Do I look presentable?” Angela asks.

“You’re fine,” you answer, running your fingers through your hair to smooth it out. “Am I good?”

“Yep. Ready to go?”

“For sure.”

Getting out of the office unseen is the easy part. The hard part is making it past your friends without them asking a million questions. Courtney had noticed your absence, but you’re able to play it off by saying that you’d been hugging the toilet in the bathroom for the last twenty minutes, with Angela there to comfort you. Your disheveled appearance helps sell that story, and soon enough you’re both on your way home in a cab.

The drive to your apartment building feels like it takes forever, and the elevator ride up to your floor is even worse. By the time you make it through your front door, you’re practically vibrating with impatience. Luckily for you, Angela is too, because as soon as you both have your shoes off, she lifts you up by the backs of your thighs and carries you down the hallway.

You find yourself being thrown onto her bed, and with in seconds, she’s crawling on top of you and pressing your lips together. Even with everything you’ve done tonight, you have actually kissed, so it takes you a little bit by surprise. It doesn’t take you long to recover, though, and soon you’re pushing back against her lips with equal fervor.

After a few minutes of exploring each other’s mouths, Angela moves down your jawline and then to your neck, kissing and sucking at the same spot she had at the club. Your hips jump at the feeling, and you feel her smirk against your skin before moving down to leave what is definitely going to be a mark on your collarbone. As she starts to move down to your chest, she tugs at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?”

“Fuck yes,” you say, eagerly sitting up.

Angela smirks as she rips the shirt over your head, but the sight of your bare chest wipes it right off of her face. Apparently she hadn’t been ready for you not wearing a bra. She looks up at you with hunger in her eyes, and when you nod, she immediately leans down and takes a nipple in her mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

You arch your back so that Angela can get more of your breast in her mouth, and you moan as you feel her suck hard. A hand comes up to cup your other tit, massaging it gently, and your hips buck into her again. You manage to find some friction this time in the form of Angela’s leg between your thighs, so you start grinding into it, chasing some of the relief that you desperately need.

As Angela switches to lavish your other nipple with affections, you bring your hand up to pinch at the one she just left. This has a wave of heat washing down your spine, and you grind down harder now that the end goal is within reach. Before you can get there, though, strong hands push your hips down into the bed, elimination the friction that had been building you up.

“Baby,” you whine, reaching down to grab her hips and try to pull her flush against you.

“You’re not coming on my thigh,” Angela says as she starts to kiss down your body. “I have somewhere else in mind for that.”

With a wink, Angela undoes the button of your jeans with her teeth and then pulls the zipper down the same way. She makes quick work of pulling them off of your body, and you think she’s about to take your panties off too, but she stops short. When she looks up at you, you realize that she won’t go any farther without your consent.

“I know you said yes at the club, but I need to hear you say it now,” Angela says.

“Yes,” you reply, trying and failing to keep the whine out of your voice.

Consent now established, or re-established, Angela wraps her fingers in the hem of your panties and pulls them down slowly. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as you feel them stick to you, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. In fact, you’re pretty sure you hear her let out a little hum of appreciation.

The first trace of Angela’s tongue against your slit has you crying out her name. You’re embarrassingly close already, but that only seems to spur her on as she draws circles around your clit before briefly moving down to your dripping entrance. She repeats the pattern over and over again, drawing moan after moan from your lips as you feel your core start to tighten.

“Ange, I’m-”

A burst of white hot pleasure explodes from your center, and you feel your entire body start to shake as your orgasm engulfs you. Angela works you down from it expertly, slowing her movements down before completely coming to a stop when you go slack against the bed. You feel start to trail kisses back up your body, and you open your eyes as you feel her breath fanning against your lips.

Embarrassingly, a full body shiver runs through you at the sight of Angela’s face. Her chin is covered in your wetness, and her perfect lips are a darker shade of pink than you’ve ever seen them. Before she has the chance to tease you about your reaction, you lean up and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

“God, you’re so hot,” you murmur. “Fuck, do you have condoms?”

“What?” Angela says, pulling away in surprise.

“Condoms. Do you have them?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to-”

“I don’t, just like you didn’t when you said you wanted to go down on me,” you say, cutting her off. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“I do,” Angela says quickly. “I really fucking do.”

“Then get naked, grab a condom, and come fuck me.”

Angela nearly falls off the bed as she scrambles to get up, but she manages to get her feet under her. She stands up and pulls her collared shirt over her head before undoing the clasp of her bra and letting it fall from her arms. You take a minute to admire the view, but quickly get distracted when Angela pulls off her pants and underwear. She goes into the side table and grabs a condom, ripping the packaging off and rolling it on before climbing back on top of you.

“Are you sure about this?” Angela asks softly, positioning herself between your legs.

“Yes.”

“Because we don’t have to do this. We can leave it here for tonight and talk in the morning, or-”

“Angela, just shut up and fuck me already.”

The desperation in your voice seems to get Angela to understand that you want this, and she lines herself up at your entrance before pushing in. You do your best not to tense up, taking deep breaths to keep your muscles relaxed as she presses more into you. As soon as your hips connect, you feel your walls clench around her cock.

“Fuck, this isn’t gonna last long,” Angela mumbles. “Feels so good.”

Before you have the chance to tell her that you don’t care how long she lasts, she rolls her hips into you. The friction is delicious, and you find your head falling back against the pillows as you let out a loud moan that seems like it bounces off every single wall in your apartment. God, your neighbors are gonna hate you.

As Angela starts to build a rhythm with her thrusts, she shifts her hips slightly on every stroke. You wonder what she’s doing, but then you feel the tip of her cock rub against your g-spot, and you suddenly can’t think anymore. She smirks at the little choking sound that escapes your lips, and then she’s picking up speed and pounding you into the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for Angela to have you worked up and on the brink of orgasm, but you hold it, not wanting to let go yet. You dig your fingertips into her sides to give yourself something to hold onto, and suddenly her hips are stuttering into you. Low grunts are falling from her lips on every thrust now, and her eyes are glazed over as she chases her high.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Angela moans. “I need-I need you to come. I can’t-”

“I’m there,” you whine.

Your walls convulse around Angela’s cock as you come, and your legs try to clamp shut, only to be held open by the girl in between them. A sharp moan escapes your lips, and you hear her say your name again, which only adds to the pleasure that is coursing through your veins. It takes a long time for you to come down, only really coming back to yourself when you feel soft kisses being peppered across your cheek.

“You okay?” Angela asks, resting her head in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should probably get cleaned up and head to bed.”

When you nod in agreement, Angela carefully pulls out of you before peeling the condom off and tying it closed. She gets up and offers you a hand that you take gratefully, before you both head out of her room and down the hallway to the bathroom. After a quick clean up, she leaves you to use the bathroom. As you pee, you realize that you never heard her door shut, and take that as an invitation to rejoin her. That night, you fall asleep feeling safe and sound in her arms.

—

An alarm blaring yanks you out of your sleep, and you groan, rolling over to bury your face in the pillow. This is the third time this week that you’ve woken up feeling like shit, and it’s only Wednesday. Before you have the chance to wallow in how miserable you feel, there’s a knock on your door and it opens just a crack.

“Hey, time to get up,” Angela says softly. “We have to be at the studio in less than an hour, and I wanna stop for some coffee if that’s cool.”

“Sure,” you say, sitting up slowly to avoid making your nausea worse. “I’ll be ready to go in twenty.”

Angela nods and closes the door, leaving you to start your day. Things between you two have been a little bit different ever since you hooked up. She’s been distant, but honestly, so have you. It’s like neither of you know how to walk back the line that you crossed that night a few weeks ago, and now you’re both just trying to learn how to live in the awkwardness.

Sighing, you climb out of bed and are immediately hit with a wave of nausea. Like the last two mornings, you sprint across the hall to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the faucet so that Angela doesn’t hear you throwing up. After a minute of just sitting in front of the toilet, you get up and flush before starting to get ready. 

You brush your teeth and take a quick shower, then head back to your room to get dressed. Buttoning your jeans takes a little extra effort this morning, but you chalk it up to bloating. Once you’re dressed, you put on some light makeup and grab your bag before heading out to the living room. Angela is waiting for you there, and as soon as she sees you come in, she stands up.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you reply, heading to the door.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage brings on another wave of nausea, but you manage to dispel it by the time you climb into Angela’s car. The drive to the nearest coffee shop only takes five minutes, and then you’re heading off to the studio. When you get there, you head inside to find Amanda and Courtney chatting with Arasha in the main office.

“Yeah, I feel so much better,” Courtney says. “That cold was awful. I’m just glad my period was ending when I caught it.”

That statement makes you stop dead in your tracks. Wait a minute. Courtney’s period was ending? No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? If it was, that means yours was late. Like, extremely late. You guys weren’t perfectly synced, but you would have for sure started your period a few days before she did, as happens every month. A sinking feeling hits you in the pit of your stomach as you realize what this could mean.

“Hey, are you okay?” Angela asks from beside you. “You just got really pale.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say. “I-I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

Without waiting for Angela to respond, you practically run down the hall and into the single person bathroom. You shut and lock the door behind you then walk over to the sink, turning the water on cold and splashing your face with it. The coolness does nothing to dispel the rising feeling of dread in your stomach, and you find yourself rushing to the toilet for the second time today.

After taking a minute to regain your composure, you take your spare toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bag and start brushing. All the while, you think about what’s going to happen now. You’re pregnant, you have to be. Your period is is a week and a half late and you’ve been waking up nauseous every morning for the last couple days. There’s no other logical explanation, right?

Knowing that there’s nothing you can do right now, you squash down your panic and resolve to go to the drugstore at lunch. Then you’ll be able to get a test and confirm that you actually are pregnant before you start really freaking out. With a sigh, you spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth before putting everything away and walking back out to the office.

“There you are,” Amanda says, smiling as you walk over to the group that has formed. “We saw you come in, but then you disappeared.”

“I just had to use the bathroom,” you say, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “Are you ready for the shoots today?”

“God yes. I’ve been dying to play Gentleman’s Moose Master again.”

“The last one absolutely killed me,” Courtney agrees. “I can’t wait to see what we’ve got this time.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a good video,” you agree.

“What about you?” Amanda asks. “You’re filming a reaction video for Pit, right?”

“I am. God, I hope they don’t do me too dirty. Tommy got Angela good on the last one, I had to deal with her pouting for days after filming.”

“Hey, it was not that bad,” Angela protests with a pout.

“Oh, it was that bad,” Chanse chimes in. “You were grumpy for two days, and that was just what I saw here. I can’t imagine what you were like at home.”

“Mopey,” you say cheekily.

“Whatever,” Angela mutters, though you know she’s not actually feeling put out. “Let’s go, we’ve got to start getting ready.”

With that, the brunette turns around and starts walking in the direction of the art department. Shayne, Courtney, Amanda, and Trevor follow her, leaving you with the a few of your other castmates. You turn around to find Chanse looking at you with an eyebrow raised, but before you can say anything, Erin comes over and starts herding you to the stage you’re going to be shooting on today.

While you’d had a brief reprieve from your thoughts while you had been joking around with the rest of the cast, as soon as you sit down at the table on set, they all come rushing back in. You spend almost the entire shoot pretending to pay attention to the screen in front of you, but in reality, you’re a million miles away. When they call the final cut on the video, you let out a little sigh of relief and stand up, ready to move on to the next thing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chanse asks as you walk back out to the main office. “You seem…off. I don’t really know how to explain it. And Angela has been pouting for weeks. Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” you say, sighing heavily as tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes. “It’s a long story, but I think I really fucked up and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you cover for me at lunch? I need to pick something up, but Angela can’t know about it.”

“Of course,” Chanse says softly. “I know this might be overstepping, but do you want someone to go with you?”

“Maybe,” you say, biting your lip as you think it through. “Yes. But then who’s gonna cover for us?”

“I’ll talk to Amanda, she won’t ask questions if she thinks I’m taking you out to lunch so that I can gush about the guy I hooked up with last weekend.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course. Now come on, we just have to get through an hour long shoot before we can go do whatever you need.”

You nod your head and follow him off the stage and back into the main office, where you find Ian and Anthony setting up for the sketch shoot. Most of it has already been filmed, but the final part got delayed due to some technical difficulties the other day so the final scene had been squeezed into today’s schedule.

This shoot goes a lot better than the last, with you being able to turn on your actor’s brain and set everything else on the back burner. It ends up running a little bit long, but that just means that lunch will be pushed back a bit. Not a complete travesty in the grand scheme of things. When the shoot ends, you walk off towards the kitchen to get Chanse, and you find him talking to Amanda.

“Wait, why are you going out for lunch?”

“Because I need to talk to her about something,” Chanse replies. “I hooked up with a guy this weekend, and I need adv-”

“Nope, stop,” Amanda says, holding her hand up. “I don’t wanna know. I’ll tell Ange that you guys went out.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into the kitchen. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Chanse says, walking towards you. “Let me just grab my keys.”

With a little nod, you turn and head back out towards the bullpen. You stop off at Chanse’s desk to grab his keys, and then you head out to the parking lot. He opens the door of his pick up truck for you and helps you in before going walking around the vehicle and hopping into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine though, just looks over at you with a soft expression.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I slept with Angela,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “A few weeks ago. We were drunk and it just kind of happened, but things have been weird ever since. I think she thinks it was a mistake.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“No, I…I don’t know how to. I mean, how do I tell her that I…”

“Do you have feelings for her?” Chanse asks softly.

“I do. But now everything is weird and complicated, and I-”

“Why are things complicated? You slept together, that wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t feel something too.”

“Because I think…I think I’m pregnant.”

Chanse just sits there for a moment in stunned silence, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You want him to say something, anything, even if he just calls you a fucking idiot for letting this happen. But you know he would never do that, he’s too kind and compassionate to have that kind of a response. Instead, he just puts the key into the ignition and turns it, then starts backing out of the parking spot.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To the pharmacy,” Chanse answers. “We’ll pick up a test, and you’ll take it. If it’s positive, then we can start to panic.”

“Yeah, right. Okay.”

The drive to the nearest drug store only takes five minutes, and soon you find yourself in the family planning aisle. Chanse stays by your side, offering silent support as you look at the pregnancy tests. Eventually you grab two Clearblues, then you head up to the front of the store and check out. With the tests now in hand, you’re tempted to just take them here, but you know that a CVS bathroom probably isn’t the best place to find out that you’re pregnant.

When you get back to the Smosh studio, Chanse takes you down a side hall that avoids the eating area before opening the door to the women’s bathroom for you. You swallow hard, but he gives you a look of encouragement, so you head inside and go into the first stall. After reading the directions, you pee on the sticks and then flush the toilet before heading out of the stall. You put the tests on a paper towel on the counter and then wash your hands.

After setting a timer on your phone for five minutes, you poke your head out of the bathroom. Chanse looks up at you, and when you nod your head back inside, he pushes himself off the wall and follows you in. For the next few minutes, you sit in silence, waiting for the alarm to go off with a pit of dread in your stomach. When it does, you take a deep breath and walk back to the counter, flipping over the tests.

“Positive,” you choke out, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. “Both of them.”

“Fuck,” Chanse breathes out, walking over to wrap his arms around you. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll figure this out.”

“I don’t-I didn’t-”

“I know. I know.”

“Nobody else can find out,” you say, sniffling. “Not before I talk to her.”

“They won’t.”

As if he knows exactly what to do, Chanse grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wraps one of he tests up before putting it into your backpack. He then wraps the other one up and buries it, making sure that nobody will find it unless they’re looking for it. When he’s done, he turns to you and wraps you in one last hug.

“Everything’s going to be okay, I promise,” Chanse says.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. “Now I just have to figure out how to get through the rest of my day.”

With a sigh, you pull out of his arms and you both head to your next shoot. You spend most of it trying not to throw up, the confirmation of your pregnancy bringing back your nausea in full force. You notice Amanda watching you, a concerned look on her face, but before she can say something, Chanse stops her with a shake of his head and a few hushed words. If he hadn’t promised to keep your secret, you would have been concerned that he had told her.

When you’re finished shooting the short sketch with Chanse and Amanda, it’s time for you to get ready for your last video of the day. At this point, not having had lunch is starting to catch up to you, but there’s no time to find something to eat. You struggle to push away the brain fog that’s come down heavy in the past couple of minutes, and you manage to fight it back far enough that you can at the very least function.

As you walk onto the Reddit Stories set, you see Shayne and Angela talking over by the couch. They both look up when you come in, and he says one last thing to her before nodding in your direction. You watch her take a deep breath as she starts walking over to you, her hands fiddling nervously with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“Hey,” Angela says quietly. “You weren’t at lunch.”

“Yeah, I went out with Chanse,” you reply, looking down. “He wanted to talk about some stuff that happened over the weekend.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’m sure he would’ve asked you to go if he actually needed advice, but he kinda just wanted to gush, so…”

“That’s not-” Angela cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip. “Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…things have been different since…you know. And I didn’t expect them not to be, but this feels…I don’t know. Like you’re mad at me?”

“Ange, I-”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? Do something you didn’t want?”

“Of course not,” you say immediately, not wanting her to think that she did anything wrong. “I’ve just had a lot to think about, and then today…”

“Today what?”

“I’ve just been feeling off, okay? It has nothing to do with anything that you did. I promise.”

Angela looks unconvinced, but she nods her head before walking over to the couch and taking a seat. You sigh and follow her over, plopping down and grabbing a pillow to wrap your arms around. Courtney does a few final checks with the crew, and they you start rolling. Shayne goes through the intro and introduces the theme, which happens to be ‘Am I The Asshole’ stories centered around roommates.

Listening to the stories is hard at first, but after two you manage to zone in and start actually giving your opinions on them. Engaging in the conversation seems to make the time go faster, and pretty soon, the episode is wrapping up. As Shayne does the typical sign off, you watch Chanse slip in through the stage door behind the cameras. He doesn’t seem to be here for you though, walking over to Erin and asking her a question.

When Courtney announces the final cut, you sigh in relief. As you go to stand up, your vision goes black and your legs buckle a little bit underneath you. Reaching out to steady yourself on the couch, you sit back down to try to regain your bearings. You hear Angela’s voice come from next to you, but it sounds really far away.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” Chanse says, walking over from behind the camera.

“Dizzy,” you manage to stutter out, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“You literally took her out for lunch,” Angela says, sounding annoyed.

“Last night,” you say quietly. “I was too nauseous to eat this morning.”

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Chanse says. “I’m going to go grab you something from the kitchen, and Angela is going to take you to Ian’s office so that you can lay down on his couch. Alright?”

You nod, blinking your eyes open to shoot your friend a grateful look. He returns the gesture, then gets up and heads out towards the main office, leaving you alone with Angela. You look up at her slowly, and find that she already has her eyes on you, a concerned expression on her face. Before you have the chance to say anything, though, she helps you to your feet and starts leading you to Ian’s office.

“What’s going on with you?” Angela asks as soon as you’re inside, her jaw clenching.

“It’s nothing,” you say, hoping that denial will buy you a little bit of time.

“Don’t do that. First you lie about lunch, and then I find out that you were nauseous this morning and didn’t tell me. Seriously, Y/N. Tell me what’s going on.”

“This isn’t the right place to have this conversation-”

“The hell it isn’t,” Angela says angrily. “Look, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong-”

“I’m pregnant.”

That stops Angela in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, and then they trail down to your stomach before moving back up to your face. She almost looks like she doesn’t believe you, so you reach into your backpack and pull out the positive test. You unwrap it and hand it to her, but it only seems to make her freeze more.

“Say something,” you beg.

“I-”

Angela stutters and looks from you to the test and back up again, but she never actually says anything. You give her a minute to start to wrap her head around things, but the longer she stays quiet, the more your chest begins to ache. When she looks up at you again, you think that she’s finally about to say something, but she doesn’t. She just stares at you, her jaw clenched.

“Right,” you say, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I, uhm, I think I’m going to stay somewhere else tonight.”

You turn on your heels and walk out of the office, heading towards the kitchen at a brisk pace. Tears are falling freely down your cheeks now, and your vision is blurred enough that you almost smack into someone on your way down the hall. It takes strong hands on your shoulders to get you to focus, and you look up to see Chanse standing in front of you.

“What happened?”

“I told her,” you say quietly. “She, uh, she didn’t…”

Thinking about the way she looked at you is the clincher, and you collapse into Chanse’s arms, sobbing. He wraps his arms tightly around you, allowing you to let it out. By the time you manage to get yourself together, the shoulder of his shirt is drenched and you’re somehow in a closet instead of the hallway that this conversation started in. You have no idea how he moved you to somewhere more private, but you’re glad he did.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask, sounding small.

“Of course. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

For the second time today, you find yourself being led outside and helped into Chanse’s truck. You rest your head against the window as soon as he closes the door, and you watch the greenery that surrounds the studio thin out as you head back into the city. It doesn’t take long to arrive at his building, and soon you’re seated at his kitchen island, watching him cook.

“How are you doing?” Chanse asks, setting a plate of stir fry down in front of you.

“I’ve been better,” you reply honestly. “I mean, I didn’t expect her to be over the moon about this, but she could have at least said something.”

“She didn’t say anything?”

“Nope. Just stood there like a statue and stared at me.”

“Maybe she’s just processing.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Hey,” Chanse says softly, walking around the island to take a seat next to you. “You won’t be doing this alone. If she isn’t there, I will be. I know it’s not the same, but…”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him softly.

Before Chanse can say anything in response, his phone starts buzzing on the kitchen counter. He gives you an apologetic look before getting up and going to grab it. As he picks it up, he looks at the screen and frowns. He taps something and puts the phone back down, but it immediately starts buzzing again, so he sighs and answers it.

“Amanda, what’s up?”

“Do you want to tell me why Angela just called me in a panic, looking for Y/N?”

“No, not really,” Chanse says, putting the phone on speaker.

“Well, have you seen her?” Amanda asks. “Because I think our girl is going to have a panic attack if she doesn’t find her in the next five minutes.”

“It would serve her right. And she is definitely not my girl right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re mad at her. You’re never mad at her. What did she do?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“It’s fine, she’s gonna find out anyways,” you say, sighing.

“Wait, is Y/N with you?”

“She is,” Chanse says.

“So she’s not going home? What the fuck happened?”

“I’m pregnant,” you say quietly. “It’s Angela’s.”

“WHAT?” Amanda practically yells into the phone. “How? When? Does she know? Sorry, dumb question. She wouldn’t be panicking right now if she didn’t. But wait, why are you with Chanse?”

“Your girl froze,” Chanse says. “Y/N told her, and she just stood there.”

“Fucking idiot. I’m going to kill her.”

Before either you or Chanse has the chance to say anything back, there’s a knock on the door. You exchange a look with each other, but ultimately decide that whoever it is can go the fuck away. As you turn your attention back to the phone and Amanda, another series of knocks sound from the door, this time with a voice accompanying them.

“Chanse, I know Y/N is with you,” Angela calls out. “Open the door.”

“Is she at the door?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah,” Chanse says, walking around the island with his phone in his hand. “Look, I have to let you go. I’ll call you later, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, he hangs up and turns towards you. “What do you want to do? Do you want to see her?”

“Not really, but I should,” you say. “We need to talk about this eventually.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be tonight.”

“I know, but it should be. Let her in.”

Chanse nods and then heads to the front door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back to give you one last chance to change your mind. When you don’t, he takes a deep breath and opens the door. He’s immediately shoved back, and you watch Angela walk into the apartment, her eyes scanning the room until find you. As she starts to walk over to you, you climb off of the stool you’re sitting on and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

“Hey,” Angela says, visibly softening at the sound of your voice. “Can we talk?”

“We probably should.”

“Chanse, do you mind giving us a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Chanse replies, before walking over to you and giving your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

“Okay.”

With a soft smile to you and a glare to Angela, Chanse heads down the hallway and into his room. As soon as you hear the door click shut, you turn back to the girl standing in front of you. She’s looking at your stomach, a mix of wonder and uncertainty clouding her eyes. When she notices you watching her, she clears her throat and straightens up.

“So you’re really pregnant?” Angela asks quietly.

“Yes,” you reply softly.

“When did you find out?”

“Today. I…I heard Courtney talking about coming off of her period when we came in this morning, and I realized I was late. Chanse took me to the pharmacy during our lunch break, and I took a couple of tests. They came back positive.”

“Okay,” Angela says, taking a deep breath. “Okay. So, uhm, I know you probably have a lot that you want to say to me after what happened at the studio, but can I go first?” You nod your head, and Angela lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay. First, I want to say that I’m so sorry for how I reacted. Never in a million years did I think our conversation was heading in that direction, but that’s no excuse.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I don’t forgive me, but I appreciate it. The second thing that I wanted to say is, I’m in. I want to be a part of this, with you. In whatever way you want me. But before you decide on that, you should know that I’ve been helplessly in love with you for the last six months.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you,” Angela repeats, taking a step closer to you. “I love the way you make everyone around you smile, the way you care so deeply about all of our friends, the way you can make me laugh even when I’m having a bad day. I love your smile, and your laugh, and that little crease on your forehead that is only visible when you’re concentrating really, really hard. And so help me God, I love the way that you taste, the way you moan my name, the way you make me feel like I’m burning up from the inside out.”

“Ange,” you say quietly, tears welling in your eyes for the hundredth time today.

“I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. Please, just give me a chance to show you that.”

“Only if you give me the chance to show you right back.”

“Deal.”

Not wanting to spend another second out of Angela’s arms, you close the distance between you and pull her into a passionate kiss. She responds immediately, sinking into the embrace and letting her body melt into yours. It just feels right, and you realize that no matter what happens next, you’ll always have Angela.

[nightcolorz]

I think part of why communities autistic representation with Abed is so good isn’t just how it portrays the symptoms and experience accurately, but also how it conveys plot lines and story arcs about the different types of people and interpersonal conflict an autistic person would face. Community definitely isn’t the first show to have ableism as a conflict, but in my experience of watching stuff it’s the first show I’ve seen that has such a nuanced approach to so many different types of ableism and different realistic reactions and solutions (all while being a sitcom with a cast of morally corrupt characters and absurd fantastical scenarios).

Frankie Dart for example, who is introduced in season 6, is kind of that level headed business woman archetype, conveys that she has a lot of experience with disabled ppl in her personal life, and (as is later confirmed) a lot of affection for them bcus she has a sister with a high support needs disability. This draws her to Abed, being that he’s autistic, and the two begin and understanding and friendship. Frankie is very kind and unusually understanding and compassionate towards Abed and his needs, and communicates with him in a way that is refreshingly easy for him to understand. And at the same time, patterns of infantilizing and condescending behavior begin to occur in their dynamic, until eventually Frankie outright says that abed “doesn’t know any better”, conveying to him that she thinks he’s too disabled to be aware of what he wants and believes, or to make his own decisions without someone who knows what’s best for him to guide him. And the great thing is everyone who witnesses her say this is disgusted 😭🫶 she is berated bcus everyone who knows abed knows that he is a grown ass man who doesn’t need to be hand held or condescended to.

But what’s so interesting about this conflict with Frankie is that she does earnestly mean well, she’s not a one sided abliest villain, she’s a person who could really exist. What is conveyed is that Frankie infantilizes abed bcus she has an expectation of autism that does not apply to every autistic person. She assumes that bcus her sister has high support needs and needs help making decisions, that abed is the same way, bcus she thinks all autistic ppl r like her sister and acts accordingly. And then she learns that this is wrong, and abed is fully capable of functioning without her help. It’s great! There’s no moral speech about how autistic ppl aren’t babies or anything like that. Frankie means well, fucks up, and is forgiven when she changes her behavior.

I just love it bcus ableism and other forms of bigotry aren’t often portrayed with so much nuance. Ableism isn’t usually this big thing, most people r on some degree abliest, and a lot of the time people who have a lot of experience with disabled ppl and mean well (especially ppl with disabled family or siblings) end up having the most abliest biases, it just feels so real.

[sepublic]

The core to Belos’ character is that he’s everything wrong with the United States of America. Why else is he a Puritan, a group of racist settlers who helped found the U.S. and contributed to the genocide of the Native Americans? Why else does he dress up like a Founding Father when not in papal robes, with a ponytail resembling a powdered wig?

Luz thinking he’s a great explorer, only to find out Philip is just an entitled asshole who takes credit from others to make himself look better, is a play on people IRL finding out that people like Christopher Columbus and Thomas Edison were assholes who stood on the shoulders of others. It’s a play on white mediocrity and how white guys do the bare minimum and expect to be praised.

Belos is a bigot whose entire motive and goals are based on genocide-level bigotry, and he refuses to unlearn any beliefs; Being a historical Puritan he is 100% racist and misogynistic and unlike Caleb, didn’t take the chance to grow out of it. He wants to believe he’s born special and better than everyone else, and that’s why he buys into white supremacy.

There is an explicit connection between the colonial genocide of Native Americans and Belos’ genocide of witches and demons, down to imposing a Christian misunderstanding of the local religion. He feels entitled to their magic but does none of the work to understand, nor does he cultivate a sustainable relationship with the land the way indigenous people do, hence consuming palismen.

He coined the term Savage Ages, with Savage having racist connotations. His fantasy is the Monster Hunter, the idea that it’s okay to dehumanize anything and even anyone that’s different to kill them. He believes in the Evil Races trope which is of course inherently racist. Belos treats Luz like his White Man’s Burden, a brown child who needs a White Savior to civilize (just as the U.S. kidnapped Native American children to assimilate), and then tries to kill Luz when she doesn’t go along instead of just. Leaving Luz alone or dragging her into the human realm with him anyway.

Belos makes exceptions to his religion when convenient, allowing himself to use magic but then demonizing those who do, just as homophobic Christians and Republicans do. Think of all the anti-gay politicians who are caught being gay; They’re not repressed victims, just hypocrites who think they’re entitled to special treatment. Philip didn’t rat on Caleb for hanging out with a witch for the reasons Pro-Lifers let loved ones have abortions; Caleb was important to him, and he’s not one of the witches Philip planned to murder. And even then he still killed Caleb for ‘crossing a line’!

The Puritans and other groups informed the Alt-Right in the U.S., as well as Evangelicals who rage about how something as innocuous as Pokemon is a Satanic influence (Yes this happened; The Conformatorium doesn’t seem so unrealistic after all, and remember that Dana’s father gave her a copy of Pokémon Red before he died that she latched onto). But like the Televangelist, Belos indulges in material wealth and glory via the glamour of Catholicism, because he’s not even consistent to Puritan values either.

He’s Trump, he’s Elon Musk, he’s Ron DeSantis. He’s the incel/mass shooter who fell down the pipeline, who feels cheated out of the promises of a white supremacist society and takes it out on minorities but not other white guys, because he thinks the system’s idea is fine it just isn’t working as it should, at least he’s better than those guys.

Belos’ reaction to Caleb being with Evelyn was undeniably motivated by racial disgust at his brother for committing miscegenation and making Philip related to a savage in the process. He thinks taming a wilderness and its natives makes him a tough man because he’s insecure. He has a sniveling victim complex that can’t comprehend why minorities would dislike him, except that they’re mean. Belos epitomizes the U.S.’s racial and colonial violence, its white supremacy, and its global police narrative that decides the existence of another, independent world is an inherent threat to his own.

The conflict between Philip and Caleb was over racism, and so it’s black and white because racism is always wrong. Making it ‘nuanced’ would take away from the fact that the motives for real life racism are inherently nonsensical and insincere; Caleb wasn’t selfish for living with another culture on its terms, instead of staying in the racism village (The Gravesfield statues corroborate Philip being an adult when he arrived in the Demon Realm, according to the memory portraits; Caleb waited until Philip was an adult before leaving). Philip was not a weird kid, he was adhering to his social norms with games about how anyone different or actually weird should die, and he wanted to do this.

Even if he was weird, Belos isn’t telling other people they should fit in for their sake, he’s telling them they should just die (Unlike himself, because he’s ‘special’); It’s what he admits to the Collector in the finale about not bothering teaching them anything, just wiping them out. And the choice for the villain to be a genuine Puritan makes sense, because this is a show about weirdoes, so who’s designating them as such and why? Luz has a conflict with the IRL system since the first scene and Belos symbolizes the system, his Puritan ideology marked the foundation for it and the U.S.

Belos killing Caleb is just the cherry on top of his actual motives and what his character was always about, that’s why his death scene isn’t him lamenting about Caleb or how lonely he is, it’s him being racist and demanding special treatment for his race. A racist white man feels no guilt for the witches and demons he murdered, just his white brother and clones; He still keeps killing them too btw.

Deeming someone a lost cause and killing them instead of working to rehabilitate is un-Christian, because Belos is not secretly bound by his religion, he picks and chooses. His guilt is not Catholic, he is the Protestant belief in his own superiority. Belos isn’t just a Nazi, he’s an American racist, he’s the KKK; He’s a condemnation of American Values and Exceptionalism, and lowkey I think that’s part of the reason why Family-Friendly Disney canned TOH, because Belos is a condemnation of a major consumer base. Disney being more progressive than other companies means jackshit because it’s performative and the bar is in hell.

[tennessoui]

3 or 60 for the Stacy's mom AU pretty please?

thank you for sending this in <3

[from this list of prompts] / [Stacy's Mom AU]

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

honestly as much as they'd both probably enjoy wearing each other's clothing, their styles and color choices are just so different that it's too noticeable and both of them are committed to flying under the radar with their relationship. the most they could get away with is probably anakin dumping his cloaks on obi-wan's shoulders at the slightest shiver from a slightly chilly day. obi-wan now owns like. 12 of anakin's cloaks. he has no intention of giving any of them back.

i imagine obi-wan attempts to give anakin a poorly carved jappor snippet after he reads about the cultural traditions on tatooine. it's really really ugly and it sort of looks like someone's hacked it to pieces and then set it on fire, but master skywalker takes to wearing it religiously.

also i think master skywalker's fascination with obi-wan's hair grows deeper now that he gets to play with it whenever he wants and lace his fingers through it, etc etc, and he takes a lot of calming joy out of playing with it at night if he's awake and obi-wan's asleep, which turns into braiding different sorts of hairstyles into his hair. obi-wan takes to wearing them around the Temple when he's awake - they're much fancier than the padawan braid and much, much more elaborate (because anakin can never do anything half-assed)

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

lmao ok i think obi-wan's preferred sleeping position is with anakin draped on top of him which anakin is happy to accommodate. but anakin also runs hot, and obi-wan hates being hot in his sleep so anakin often wakes up to obi-wan-shaped fists and feet shoving him away (only to get cold a few hours later and pull him back closer as if he's not a jedi master but obi-wan's personal weighted blanket)

anakin doesn't really mind but he definitely fantasizes about retiring from the Order, convincing obi-wan to follow him, and moving them to some arctic snowy planet where obi-wan is always a little cold and never ever shoves anakin away during the night

snippet (pertaining to question 3)

At first, Obi-Wan is inclined to believe that Quinlan is doing this on purpose, out of some practical joke or in an attempt to tease him and prod at him as if they're still padawans. As if Quin doesn't have a padawan of his own now.

Obi-Wan blinks down at the young girl's upturned face. "Uh," he says, glancing up at Quinlan and resolutely not turning to stare at Anakin, who he can feel shaking with silent laughter beside him.

"Please," Orka adds, placing her hands behind her back. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wonders how in the Force such a sweet child became Quinlan Vos' padawan.

"Uh, well," Obi-Wan says. "The thing is..." he stares hard at Vos, but the other man just looks expectant and slightly confused, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the tall duracrete pillar of the fountain behind him. "I think actually Master Skywalker would be thrilled to help you with your hair, Orka."

Quin raises an eyebrow. "Seems unlikely," he mutters, just low enough for Obi-Wan and Anakin to hear. Obi-Wan flushes even as Orka stomps her foot.

"But I want you to braid my hair, Knight Kenobi!" she says. "You have the best hair in the entire Order, all the padawans think so! Please braid mine to look like yours!"

Obi-Wan winces. Behind him, he can feel Anakin's hair traversing up his back to tug teasingly at the end of one of his longer braids. It's incredibly unhelpful. So is the fact that his lover is sitting there and laughing about this whole thing instead of trying to find some way to be helpful.

"The thing is, Orka," Obi-Wan says, clearing his throat. "I don't. Ah. Know how to braid your hair."

Quinlan and Orka both tilt their heads to the side in perfect mirror of each other. It would be cute if Obi-Wan did not feel so incredibly close to humiliation.

"What, you can't figure out how to braid someone else's hair?" Quinlan asks with his eyebrows firmly knitted together. "I'd think it'd be easier than doing your own. Less need to be...you know. Flexible. To get it done. And I mean, I know you're flexible, but..."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, even as he feels Anakin's chin come to rest on the top of his shoulder. Oh of course, he's no help at all when faced with a youngling's innocent request for assistance, but the moment Quinlan Vos even slightly alludes to his and Obi-Wan's shared sexual history, and Anakin has to say something.

"I braid his hair for him, little one," Anakin tells Orka, reaching out and tucking a longer braided piece of hair behind Obi-Wan's ear. "What Knight Kenobi is too proud to say is that he doesn't actually know how to braid at all."

Orka's eyes widen and she turns to look in between the three of them as if this is an incredible, total betrayal.

Quinlan's own eyes also widen, but he looks more like Life Day has come early. "Oh," he says. "Oh."

"Shut up," Obi-Wan snaps in forewarning. "Whatever you're going to say---"

"But it's always all pretty by breakfast!" Orka protests, eyebrows knitting together. "Do you braid his hair for him every morning? Even before you eat?"

Anakin's Force signature is far too smug. He's enjoying this far too much. Obi-Wan is far too in love with him anyway. It's terrible for his health and his pride.

"Sometimes adults like to have sleepovers just as the younglings do," Obi-Wan says delicately. "Just as the younglings do," he repeats loudly when both Anakin and Vos snort. "And yes, sometimes Master Skywalker enjoys braiding my hair. During those sleepovers."

Mostly, Anakin enjoys braiding his hair either in the aftermath of sex or sometime during the night when Obi-Wan is asleep and malleable and Anakin is kept awake by some nightmare or another. Mostly Anakin enjoys braiding his hair because it's the only sort of claim he can lay on him--not while they're both still Jedi.

And mostly, Anakin. enjoys braiding his hair because he spent years seeing Obi-Wan walk around the Temple with another master's braid hanging down his shoulder, and he'd hated the sight of it.

"Oh," Orka says. She considers this new information before she turns with narrowed eyes to Anakin. "So you can braid my hair."

It sounds like a threat. This time, it's Obi-Wan who has to cover his snort with a cough.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE TEN◾ELEVEN TWELVE

As he drags her deeper and deeper into his world, introducing her to yet another dominant character, she quickly realizes it's all too much. Or is it?

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Fem!Dom. Bondage. Fingering. Sex toys/vibrators. Double penetration. Overstimulation. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 9.2k

ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN

The worst thing about being measured isn't the act itself, but how this woman keeps handling her as if she were a doll, talking about her as if she weren't even here. She's glad he's with her, and his presence does give her enough comfort to endure whatever the seamstress does to her next, but it's still an ordeal she really doesn't want to go through. Even if it means he'll buy her new clothes, clothes that will really fit her body, not just randomly picked shirts and skirts and underwear that came always only close to properly fitting her.

He's putting in so much effort for her, probably leaves quite a sum in this strange store, and she is grateful, but she also has never been this humiliated in her life – and that is after spending an entire weekend with a stranger who choked her on his cock, fucked her ass as if it were the most natural thing and made her lose control over her body in the most mortifying way.

It is actually this other woman that makes her feel worse than he could ever make her feel (though forcing her to walk around with his cum leaking into her underwear and that woman definitely noticing is a weird little transition between the two). While he always made sure she was okay afterwards, she is downright mean to her.

Called her an object. Actually slapped her.

She also has cold, clammy hands, and the way her measuring tape cuts into her skin and pokes at her nipples and other sensitive areas is not how she expected to be treated here. Not that she expected to be brought to a tailor in the first place. The entire day (and it's only a little after lunch, she assumes) has been far from anything she could have ever expected. Packing up her stuff, leaving her apartment for the last time presumably, letting him lead her into a new life... It is, simply said, more than overwhelming.

The ordeal continues, and she is either staring at the floor, biting her tongue to keep quiet and still, or she's looking at him, how he leans against the wall, strong arms crossed over his chest, in his fancy suit, so tall and intimidating and strangely enough the only anchor she has here. His gaze is intense, and she can only imagine what he is thinking about, fantasizing about.

Probably how he will take her next, and the thought alone makes her squirm on her feet a little, the heat seeping right between her legs where his cum is still caked into her panties, warm and wet, initially a mortifying feeling (because she knows the other woman must have seen it too), but also weirdly comforting. His mark on her, almost as obvious as the countless bruises on her neck that still throb slightly when she moves her head.

But as with most of her aches, she's ignored them enough to almost forget about them. They're part of her now, of her situation, her life. She's still trying to wrap her head around it all. She's living with him now. Staying with him, more likely. Will he keep her in his bed, locked into his bedroom when he's not there? How will this go? Will he lock her up like a pet or give her more freedom? What would she prefer?

She doesn't know, and while she is caught in her thoughts about it, she suddenly feels a soft slap to her butt cheek that startles her. “All done,” the seamstress says in a mock friendly tone, and while she stares at her, she notices him walking closer, a cold “Tsk” on his lips that makes the other woman flinch slightly.

His hand closes around her wrist as he pulls her off the platform and against him, and she looks up in relief, focusing fully on him now, even though his eyes are fixed on the tailor behind her.

“I'll have your order ready by tomorrow,” she says, and he nods while his hand moves to her lower back, warm and comforting as he pulls her a bit closer.

With how she tilts her chin up to look at him, she doesn't notice what's going on behind her, and frankly, she doesn't care about the seamstress anymore. She wants to forget about this whole thing as soon as possible.

“Raise up your arms.” His voice makes her blink, and she realizes she has just stared at him without paying any attention at all. He's stepped back a little, let go of her, and now her dress, the little pale pink one he chose for her to wear, is in his hands.

She lets out a surprised gasp, but obliges and raises her arms, still focusing on him, though a little bit more present when he pulls the dress over her head and smooths it down her body. His hands slip around her neck and into her hair as he frees it from the collar, thumbs brushing over her jaw as he looks down at her, a strange mixture of a dark hunger and a soft admiration shining in his eyes. She bites her lip, a nervous gesture she's utilized a lot lately, and he raises an eyebrow as he watches her closely. She stops immediately, taking a shuddering breath.

He cups her face, his own a stoic mask, before he straightens up again and lets go of her, exhaling loudly. Without another word, he grabs her hand, nods towards the tailor she had already erased from her mind, and pulls her out of the room, back along the narrow hallways to the door they had entered through. Instead of turning to the elevator, he walks to the left, further into the belly of the building until they reach another unassuming door.

She's never been behind the scenes of these fancy department stores before (and she assumes that's where they are – the normal places she's bought clothes at before certainly didn't have their own tailors in hidden backrooms, just bored teenagers waiting for their shift to be over), and despite the rather humiliating start, she is fascinated by it. His world is so different from hers, it makes the whole situation feel more like one of those princess makeover shows instead of the abduction movie that it is.

As she was being measured, her mind had gone all different directions, back to the beginning, crossing over that sentence that made her question everything: “You made me take you,” he had said, making it sound as if it had been all her fault. And maybe it had been. She had approached him, made the literal first move, and he had reacted. Not the way he probably should have, but does it even matter now? Abduction sounds so much more serious than what she had experienced with him. He might have taken her, but she can't remember anything of the actual taking, so maybe she did agree to it?

And maybe she even agreed to all the vile things he did to her, and maybe they had felt a little wrong to her just because she was so inexperienced, had nothing to compare his behavior to. If anything, she now knows a lot more, about sex, about her own body, about his body, about the thin line between pain and pleasure, and most of all, she knows that despite her initial reluctance, she wants this, whatever it is, with him. As long as she's allowed to stay with him, as long as he keeps giving her that precious head-empty-feeling, she will be fine with whatever he does.

Even though her stomach is tensing up, in the worst way, at the mere thought of what that may be. Even after a weekend of being used in ways she could have never imagined, he is still the most unpredictable man she has ever met. And it scares her – more than it excites her, though she's learned to come around eventually. Emphasis on come...

Inhaling deeply, she watches him as he raises his hand to rap his knuckles against the door they've stopped in front of. But then he seems to hesitate, his eyes moving down to meet hers. She feels a blush creeping up her neck at the intensity in his gaze, but it's when he suddenly crouches down in front of her that she lets out a soft yelp. His hands slip under her dress, fingers hooking around the waistband of her panties, and while she stiffens, on the verge of protesting, he pushes her underwear down her legs so swiftly she can only stumble back slightly.

As he balls up the garment in his big hand and stands up again, she stares at him in confusion, instinctively pressing her thighs together at the sudden loss of fabric between them. He puts her panties into his pants pocket, an unreadable expression on his hard face. Instead of giving her any explanation or doing anything else to her, he turns back to the door and knocks.

Her head is spinning, and to ground herself, she focuses on her surroundings again. The hallway around them is bland, as is the door, but there is a tiny sign with a symbol on it, and when she realizes what it portrays, she feels a single bead of sweat run down between her shoulder blades. It's got the shape of a freaking butt plug.

Her hand twitches against his leg on instinct, and he meets her gaze for a moment as she stares up at him with widening eyes. He only has time to give her a crooked smirk before she can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. It opens and takes his attention away from her. Slowly she follows the motion and feels her heart sink at the sight in front of her.

“Ah, what a lovely surprise,” the woman that greets them says with a strangely exotic accent that she can't place. She is... beautiful, to say the least. Dressed in a tight black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, accentuating an impressive bust as well as a narrow waist and wide hips, the woman balances on precariously high heels, shiny and bright red, her legs are long, her arms are toned, golden rings and bracelets hang from the hands she extends towards the man next to her, completely ignoring her.

He steps towards the woman whose long hair falls in heavy waves around her slim shoulders, framing a face that could belong to a model for sure. High cheekbones, full lips, long dark lashes, a smile that would disarm anyone – but it only creates a deep, dark void inside her stomach as she watches the tall woman throw her arms around the slightly taller man. Something cold grows within her like tiny little ice flowers when he puts his big hands lightly on her tiny waist, the same hands that have been on her body before...

She feels like a literal child next to the two adults, not just small, but hideous in her pastel pink sundress and old shabby sneakers, while the handsome man receives not one, but three kisses on his cheeks from the woman who moves so elegantly on those shoes slash murder weapons that she feels unsteady just looking at her.

Once their greeting ritual is over, she hooks her arm around his, throwing a blinding smile at him and slowly pulls him through the open door, whispering something she cannot understand that makes him smile back at her – all while she, the tiny girl, is left standing on the bland hallway with her heart racing and something ugly festering inside her stomach.

The strange feeling dissipates the moment he suddenly turns back and looks at her, extending his hand, and she almost trips over her own shoes as she steps forward and grabs it, too eager to follow, too eager to touch him as well. The smile on the woman's face freezes, turning cold and fake as her dark eyes follow his gesture, and she feels a shiver crash down her spine as they meet hers.

She quickly averts her eyes, squeezing his hand tightly as she catches up and almost presses into his side, trying to hide behind him to get away from the scrutinizing gaze of the other woman who's let go of his arm to hold the door. Together they leave the unassuming hallway and step into a space that doesn't feel much better.

It's a wider hallway, the walls are black, and as she brushes the knuckles of her free hand against them she notices that they feel soft like velvet, shimmering slightly in the dim, almost purple light shining from the fancy chandelier hanging high above them. She looks around curiously, sees various doors, framed by golden trim, adorned with golden details and handles. It looks expensive, exclusive, too fancy for her tastes, but it's not the luxury that twists her guts. There's a faint smell in the air, and she can't quite put her finger on it.

The woman walks past them, fixed on ignoring her, her heels thudding softly over the carpet. She turns to the second door on the left, that fake smile back on her beautiful face as she looks at the man she's clinging to like a lost child. He keeps holding her hand as they follow her into another room. The light is brighter here, the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves that hold various sizes of black boxes she cannot look into.

The door clicks shut behind them, and the smell becomes overwhelming. Like rubber, plastic, with a strangely sweet undertone, earthy like leather. Artificial, weirdly familiar. She swallows dryly. They walk to the middle of the room, there's some sort of bar, and the woman steps behind it while he pulls her to the other side, nudging her to slip onto one of the two bar stools while he remains standing behind her, one large hand on her shoulder to hold her there.

She feels him close to her, his warmth a comfort she certainly needs when she lets her eyes wander through the room once more. And slowly, very slowly, it dawns on her. He brought her to a freaking sex shop.

Apart from the unassuming boxes on the shelves, there's a wall, plush looking and red, that holds an array of objects that make her frown and shiver: things that looks like riding crops and canes, whips and paddles, some solid, some with holes, most made of leather, some with wood, expensive looking, intricate, and she forces herself not to think back to the few times she's followed her curiosity into the darker corners of the Internet.

Despite her great aversion to sex toys, she knows of them (before she was forced to experience them), seen them in use in various porn clips and gifs, she may be inexperienced, but she hasn't been living under a rock. Though her desire to pleasure herself has been majorly dulled after seeing one too many of these darker themed videos centered around helpless girls in precarious situations, unable to move, bound and gagged and then... tortured, there's no other word that comes to her innocent mind. It had been deeply disturbing.

It's only now, after spending more than 48 hours with a man who would seem to enjoy exactly those kinds of clips, that she learned that there is pleasure in pain, but she still doesn't want to get near any of the objects hanging from the wall. She can still feel the phantom pain of his hand on her butt cheeks when he'd spanked her, she can't imagine what it must feel like to be hit with a wide leather paddle or a thin wooden cane.

Shuddering deeply, she looks away quickly, but her gaze only falls onto another display, another plush wall, this time there are hand cuffs hanging from hooks, things that look like collars and leashes, leather and metal gleaming in the soft lighting. There are even masks and muzzles and blindfolds and... gags. More items she doesn't want to learn more about.

When she brings her attention back to the woman behind the bar, she notices that she's watching her with a dark smile, full lips curled, a glint in her eyes. She clears her throat and turns slightly to look up at the man behind her, and he has the same glint in his eyes. Her frown deepens as she looks from one adult to the other. (She's technically one as well, but still feels like a damn child between them.)

“I have to admit,” the woman says in her sweet, exotic voice, “I am a little surprised. You visit me so rarely, and usually not with... this kind of company,” she adds with a smile, her eyes moving away from her to him, and she feels him shifting against her, his hand curling around her shoulder, and despite the somewhat possessive touch, she feels that coldness poking at her insides again when she imagines these two alone in the same room, surrounded by sex toys. “Did you come to pick up your order?”

“No,” he replies, his deep voice vibrating against her, cutting through her dark thoughts. “I doubt you have it ready so soon.” The woman's smile turns a little sour at his mocking tone, but she keeps her facade, tilting her head slightly, shifting from one leg to the other as she leans against the bar. “I need something more immediate, to go, if you will.”

A surprised laugh escapes the older woman before her eyes land on hers, and while she looks back at her in confusion, she smirks darkly. “To go, huh? That's why you brought your little pet?”

It's like another sting inside her, being called a pet after being called an object, but she tries her best not to let them see how flustered she really is, not only by the names, but by the implications. She's in a sex shop, and whatever he wants to buy for her, she already knows she'll hate it. It's only been this morning that she woke up with a damn dildo stuffed inside her, held in place by a freaking harness. Does he really want to fill her up again? Can't he give her a break?

No. Of course he can't. She is his to use, to have, to control, he'd told her that, and she can't say no, because she somehow agreed to this. Submitted to him. And if they'd be in his penthouse and he'd ask her again to choose one of those many colorful toys he stores in his bedside table, she'd be somewhat okay with it, but it's the place, it's the woman, it's everything that happened prior, that makes her wary, that twists her stomach, that feels worse than anything he'd made her do before.

She feels the blush creeping up her neck even before the woman bends down to pick up something stored beneath the bar, and when she puts a large glass case in front of her, her heart sinks and her cheeks burn up fully. It's two rows of items lying on soft looking red velvet, and by now she can tell by the shape of them, where those are supposed to go. She feels the respective holes clenching in terrified anticipation. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she fights the shudders crashing through her body, her fingers clawing at the hem of her short dress.

He steps beside her, his hand still on her shoulder, his grip tight, demanding, as he leans closer to take a look at the display on the bar.

“The usual?” the woman asks, and she notices how he stiffens beside her, and it's that motion that distracts her from her spiraling thoughts. The two words hang in the air, making her wonder. She actually never questioned his large collection of sex toys, but it makes sense. He's a popular man, she's seen him disappear with various girls before he had finally picked her. It shouldn't surprise her that there have been others in the bed he'd taken her virginity in, others he's used those toys on. (She just hopes he's cleaned them afterwards...)

How he now looks at the woman though, it feels strange. As if she said too much, said something she shouldn't have said. It only deepens her frown. Before she can make sense of it, a deep vibration hums in the air, and she looks down at the glass case with a raised eyebrow, goosebumps crawling over her exposed arms, but it's not one of the toys, it's his phone.

He lets go of her shoulder and pulls it from his pocket, then sighs as he glances at the display. “I gotta take this,” he says, letting the device buzz in his hand while he moves his free one over the spotless glass. “That one,” he says quickly, his voice harsh and business-like, pointing to one of the larger, longer items in the case, and while she stares at him, his words and choice settling heavy in her stomach, the woman nods with a professional smile. “Prepare her for me?” he adds with a last look, and she can hear the sharp inhale and slight hesitation of the shop owner (and frankly, she feels the same. What now? What kind of service is that?).

“Of course,” the woman says despite her initial reaction, her voice calm and friendly, while her face is a mask of dark disdain as she watches him turn around and leave the room with quick steps, the phone already pressed to his ear – and the girl squirms on the stool, eager to follow him, absolutely not wanting to stay here, alone, with that woman, surrounded by freaking sex toys and horrifying bondage equipment – and the prospect of being prepared to take something up her ass again.

Her heart clenches as she fists the hem of her dress, trying to ground herself, her breath quickening when the woman taps her manicured nails on the glass case in front of her. She looks up timidly, meeting a rather sinister smile that makes her skin crawl with goosebumps.

“Well then,” the woman says and stores the display case back beneath the bar. “Let's get... ready then, hm?” She walks towards one of the shelves and picks up a medium sized black box, then nods towards a corner of the room that's partitioned off by a heavy looking curtain. “Get in there,” she adds, her tone much rougher than before.

“Yes, ma'am,” she mumbles, unable to stop the words. It's a reflex, an instinct, an inborn thing to obey when met with people like this. Demanding, dominant. She's just surprised this works with women as well.

Shuffling on her sneakers, her thighs still pressed together, she makes it past the curtain, and freezes. It's a room filled with strange benches, plush ones, leather ones, some lower to the ground, some higher up, definitely shaped to accommodate a body draped over them. There are wooden structures behind them on the wall, boards in an x-shape, and when she notices the hand cuffs dangling from them, she feels a cold shiver rushing down her spine.

“Bend over that one,” the woman tells her, her formerly flowery voice cold and demeaning now, and she follows the delicate hand pointing to one of the benches, a leather one shaped like a triangle of some sort.

Unable to stop herself, she walks to it, inhaling deeply, her whole body shaking, but somehow she does as she is told and presses her stomach against the soft leather, then bends forward, her hands gripping a metal bar on the bottom to steady herself. It's a strange position, leaving her rear completely exposed, and it's only after she's bent over, that she realizes that he took her panties from her.

A soft laugh comes from behind her, pushing even more blood into her already red face. “You came prepared, huh?” the woman mocks, and she flinches badly when she feels two hands on her hips, slowly moving up the thin fabric of her dress. “Of course you'd be. He always thinks ahead...”

Her comment distracts her from the humiliation of the situation. Always? He's brought girls here before? Then again, why is she surprised? She's established he's a popular man with unique tastes, why should she be the first to go through this treatment? Swallowing hard, she grips the metal bar tighter, resting her cheek on the cold leather beneath her, trying to breathe her fears and doubts away.

A sudden slap makes her yelp, her body convulsing against the bench. “So responsive, good,” the woman whispers, more to herself, while she flips her skirt up fully, scratching her seemingly gloved hand over her throbbing ass cheek, the sound of the rubber making her skin crawl. “So, are you familiar with having things up your pretty little bum?”

When she doesn't reply immediately, the hand is back on her rear, the smack even louder, crashing through her nerves instantly. She gasps, almost chokes on her spit, before croaking out: “Y-yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah? Like what? Dainty little metal plugs? Vibrators? Cocks?”

“M-metal ones,” she whispers breathlessly, shame burning through her body when she adds: “And... c-cock...”

It's one thing to experience those things, but talking about them with a complete stranger? And she thought being measured by a rude woman was bad. Her day seems to spiral more and more, so even the idea of being roughly fucked on a desk, unprepared and raw, sounds better than having to endure this. Actually, anything that includes him would be better right about now.

She feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she wonders where he's gone, when he comes back, if he comes back, why he's left her alone with this woman in the first place, why he lets her get so close to her body that's presumably all his...

A sudden stab of something cold rips her right out of her thoughts, her choked yelp coming almost a second too late, when she feels a thin finger pushing into her puckered hole without hesitation. She clenches around it as the woman moves something wet and cold around her insides. A whimper escapes her at the feeling, it's soothing as much as it is uncomfortable. The finger retreats, she hears the squirt of some liquid, and another cold dollop of what she assumes to be lube finds its way into her ass.

Weirdly enough this feels better than when he had his fingers inside her, dry and rough, forced and unexpected, and for a moment her body is confused by the attention, her core clenching, warmth settling low in her stomach, her thighs twitching slightly against the bench. But then the woman adds another finger, pushes deeper, and she feels her long sharp nails on her tense muscles, even through the glove.

Stiffening under the sensation, she grits her teeth, forces down her noises, doesn't want to draw too much attention to herself, wants it to be over soon. Her mind is spinning. Why is she even allowing this? She's come to terms when it came to him, wanting to please him because he gave her a new life, but this woman? Will she never be able to say no ever again? Will she let anyone do to her whatever they want? Is this what she's become?

A groan is forced out of her throat as she feels more pressure on the tight ring of muscles when the woman adds another finger, or maybe she's even using her whole hand now, she can't be sure, it feels like too much, stretching her, pushing deep, the lube squelching out of her with an obscene noise that makes her shiver deeply.

But then the strange sensation is gone, and she's left empty, her muscles clenching in confusion, her breath quicker, her heart thundering inside her chest, a single tear running down the side of her face. She hears the crinkling of paper behind her, the squirt of the lube bottle again, gloved hands rubbing over a wet surface. It's still a surprise when she feels something solid pressing against her sphincter, no matter how well she's been prepared.

As it is pushed deeper into her ass, she sees the shape of it in the glass case, sees his finger pointing at it, and she shudders deeply. It's longer than any plug she's had, not as long as his cock, but close, and luckily not as girthy, but it's made of differently sized balls pushed into a hard line, and she can feel every single bump as it slips into her, how her muscles tense around it, then give way, allowing the next to move in.

The woman is surprisingly gentle, but she still lets out quiet whines as the toy fills her up. Then it stops, resting hard and heavy inside her, and she yelps when her ass cheek is slapped once more, causing her muscles to clench around the insertion, holding it in place. She sniffles, biting her lip, trying to adjust. It feels strange, unfamiliar, but ultimately not as bad. Not that she can do anything against it anyway...

“What an obedient little pet you are,” she hears the woman's voice behind her, almost soft, as she moves her wet hands over her skin, her thumb poking at the base of the plug. “I'm almost jealous he found you first...”

Another slap clears the confusion in her head as she rocks against the bench, gasping. She feels her dress being pulled down again, then hears the sound of gloves being removed with a snap of rubber. She's still breathing a little harder when she's nudged off the bench and forced into a standing position again. Her legs are shaking, that object inside her moving with every twist and turn of her body, making her flinch.

“Thank you, ma'am,” she hears herself saying, her eyes glued to the floor, head bowed in a mixture of submission and shame, but there's something else swimming in the back of her mind as well. Gratitude, excitement at being praised, even if it wasn't by him.

The woman laughs softly. “Call me Mistress, pet,” she says, her long nail scratching along her throat as she grabs her chin and makes her look up. “You've earned it.”

She stares at her, chest rising and falling faster, her core clenching involuntarily. “Yes, Mistress,” she echoes quietly, making her opposite smile warmly.

Footsteps sound behind her, and she dares to break eye contact when she sees him pushing the curtain aside and entering the room. She blushes deeply, averting her eyes, standing stock-still while the woman lowers her hand and turns around.

“All done,” she says with a tilt to her head. He nods approvingly, stepping closer, his large hand suddenly finding her arm before he twists her around and presses her back to the bench.

She gasps, stiffening when he rips her dress up to expose her rear, then presses his finger to the base of the plug, forcing a choked groan out of her throat. “Any trouble?” he asks, rubbing over her probably reddened cheek.

“No, she's been very obedient,” the woman replies, and he huffs a grunt in response.

“Good,” he says and pushes her dress back down, before gripping her arm again and pulling her against him. She stumbles slightly, looking up at him. He meets her gaze, and a smile creeps onto his stoic face. “How do you feel?”

He's asked her the same thing when he has stuffed the dildo into her cunt, and back then she has felt full, it has been uncomfortable, strange, and having the larger plug in her butt still feels weird, with her muscles trying to adjust to the unfamiliar intruder by clenching around every bump of it, but overall she feels... okay.

“I feel fine,” she replies quietly, trying herself at a shy smile as he studies her face.

“Fine, hm?” he repeats with a dry laugh.

He looks away then (and she follows his gaze), nodding towards the woman who extends her hand to him, holding a piece of paper with a QR code on it. One hand on her shoulder, he slips the other into his pocket and retrieves his phone, quickly scanning the symbol, before the smile widens on his handsome face, almost turning diabolical.

She wonders what made him so happy, what's this all about, but then something strange makes her flinch, something from within. A yelp escapes her, and she grips onto his arm in surprise, feeling her muscles vibrating. No, not her muscles, the plug inside her. It's humming, buzzing against her flesh, a deep thrum that makes her entire body shudder. Her core clenches in response, her thighs trembling, and she leans against him helplessly.

He watches her with interest while his thumb moves along the screen, and the motion bleeds into the movement of the vibrating plug. It gets stronger, harder, throbbing inside her, coaxing little moans out of her that turn into gasps that turn into whimpers. She's clinging to him, and luckily he lets her, as her body quickly gets overwhelmed by the assault of sensations pulsing through her, all centered deep within her ass, but soon her cunt starts contracting too, clenching around nothing, and she cries out, squeezing her eyes shut.

“So responsive,” she hears the woman's voice, it's quiet and barely registers in her clouded mind, but she senses the hidden praise and it only makes everything worse.

The vibrations crescendo once more, loudly buzzing now, her whole body shaking, her nails digging into his arm, her lips parted, her shoulders hunching, her back arched, her legs feel like jello, everything moves, hums, shudders, muscles clench, convulse, contract, and she can only manage to issue a single croaked groan before she collapses against him, something warm and sticky dripping down her inner thigh.

He holds her, one strong arm around her, and slowly the thrumming gets weaker until it stops altogether, leaving her still shaking badly, the phantom sensation of having her insides vibrating clinging to her like she clings to him.

“Still fine?” he whispers, pressing her into him, his lips brushing against her damp forehead.

She's breathing harder, her heart still beating out of her chest, but she nods, a dumb little smile creeping onto her lips. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles, the words swimming out of her unchecked. Head empty, how lovely. He chuckles softly into her hair, before he slowly extracts her from himself, grabbing her shoulder to look at her. She can barely stand, but tries her best to remain upright, as she looks up at him out of hooded eyes.

He tilts his head, a curious glint in his gaze as he watches her closely. “Give me the same thing for her cunt,” he then says, the words barely make sense to her, but the woman moves behind him, replying with an amused: “Good idea.”

Her leaving footsteps are drowned by the soft yelp she issues when he suddenly picks her up and carries her towards another bench. This one is reclined, like a lounge chair, and she sinks into the soft leather, relaxing, eyelids fluttering, but as soon as he raises her legs and puts them into strange contraptions that hold them up and spread far apart, she slowly comes down from the high he's forced upon her.

He's standing between her open thighs, hands on her shins, holding her in place, his eyes wandering over her exposed lower body. She blinks in confusion, still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. The plug rests still and heavy inside her, the relaxed position pushing it a little deeper. She inhales sharply, wondering what's going on.

The woman returns, holding another black silicone toy in her newly gloved hands. There are leather straps hanging from her right forearm. A harness, she recognizes, and somehow that brings her down to earth with a force she hasn't expected. He wants to fill her even more, plug her up fully, and these things aren't normal dildos, they are vibrators, and he can control them with his phone. Oh for crying out loud!

She squirms in her seat, her legs kicking fruitlessly against his hold. He shakes his head and lets out a few “Tsk”s as he looks at her. It takes her a moment to obey the unspoken command, and it takes even more self-control to force herself to sit still. She bites her lip hard, breathing loudly through her nose as she looks from him to the woman and back, her heart beating harder again.

Once she's somewhat calm, he takes his hands from her shins, watching her closely, assessing if she'll stay calm, but then he sighs and fumbles with the thick leather bands attached to the contraptions that hold her legs up until they are bound in place, and she tests them immediately, tensing against them, but they won't budge. Her mind starts spinning as a strange kind of panic settles deep within her stomach.

He leans in then, a hand on her face. “Shh, it'll be alright, relax,” he soothes her, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “Be a good girl, okay?”

She lets out a whine and nods obediently. He's playing dirty. He always did, but this feels like betrayal (and it's not even that he doesn't trust her to stay still, that he saw the need to restrain her), it's because he isn't alone. The woman watches her curiously, a dark smile on her full lips as she twists the toy between her long fingers. “Do you want me to prepare her?” she asks sweetly, her eyes boring into hers, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

“No, I'll do it,” he replies quietly, his hands already sliding down her inner thighs. And she's glad he does. The woman she's supposed to call Mistress still feels a little suspicious to her. She wants to feel good, sure, if she has the option, but not by her hands. He is the center of her new world, she doesn't need the confusion that comes with someone else pleasuring her.

Though this doesn't seem to be about her pleasure. With how they both look at her, she feels like a rabbit forced into a corner with not one, but two predators staring down at her, like grinning hyenas, eager to play with her.

And somehow it's all wrong when she feels his fingers sliding along her outer lips. What should have been an intimate gesture, a shared moment, a mutual exploration, is now a witnessed thing, with her being on full display, strapped into that strange chair-like bench, it would be almost clinical if it weren't for the soft lighting and dark interior of the room.

She's acutely aware of the woman watching his every move, how his fingers rub over her mound, creating these highly embarrassing squelching sounds when they dip between her folds, and she can't help it, she squirms, strangled whines escaping her as she turns her head away and squeezes her eyes shut.

Footsteps round the bench and then she feels two hands, gloved and a little cold, on her jaw, holding her head, turning it back, before a soft breath brushes against her forehead. “Open your eyes, pet,” the woman whispers, and she shivers, eyes flying open on instinct, a croaked gasp slipping from her parted lips. Her wide gaze finds his, and he watches her, stern, stoic, head tilted slightly, as he continues to rub his hand over her sex.

She's stiff on the bench, breathing harder, heart thundering, held by the woman's hands and the leather bindings around her legs, but it's his dark stare that freezes her to the spot, makes her shiver involuntarily. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she forces herself to relax, to focus on him. He holds her attention as he finally dips a finger into her already clenching hole, and she lets out a muffled moan at the sensation.

For a moment he just looks at her, moving his digit in and out slowly, testing the waters, teasing her resistance, almost a little too keen to coax those lewd sounds out of her wet cunt. Her nostrils flare as she fights the shame trying to burn up inside her. To soothe her, the woman presses her fingertips against her throat, applying soft pressure, but her sharp nails still scratch along her skin occasionally. She furrows her eyebrows, almost loses the battle against all these kinds of stimulation.

Eventually she does, when he adds another finger and really pumps into her now, and she feels her hips bucking, her shoulders tensing, body shuddering intensely. Her suspended feet twitch in their restraints, her toes curl, and she parts her lips to let out a wanton cry, her eyelids fluttering. He prolongs the moment of bliss by curling his fingers and bullying that special spot inside her with hard thrusts of his hand until she thrashes her head into the woman's hands and moans loudly, eyes rolling back, vision turning white.

And it's all gone for a moment, her orgasm crashing through her like a cleansing wave, letting her forget all about the strange room with its strange contraptions, the shop full of toys and whips and gags, and it's just his strong fingers guiding her through the exploding lights behind her eyelids, her body seemingly floating... if it wasn't for the pair of hands holding her neck.

The number of hands confuses her, and she slowly drifts down again, limbs relaxing, all of her sinking back down on the soft bench, while her heart is exploding inside her chest, her breath coming and going in hard puffs to fill her lungs with air again.

“Good pet,” a soft female voice whispers into her ear. “What a display...”

“Th-thank you,” she croaks out, still dizzy from her release, not sure who she's thanking and why, but the inborn instinct loosens her tongue enough to allow the words to spill out. Pointy nails dig into her throat, and she gasps, eyes fluttering open, the added word “Mistress” flying from her quivering lips.

But when the woman behind her eases her grip, her eyes fall onto him, and his gaze is darker than usual, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched, and she lets out a strange whine, bucking up from the bench, wanting to get closer. Her hands, that have been gripping the sides of the bench in sheer panicked necessity, fly up and reach for him. She manages to slip from the woman's hands, but with her legs raised up and held in place as they are, she sits in a strange position, barely able to hold herself up, but her fingers still brush against the front of his shirt, fruitlessly trying to grab onto him.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, feeling the need to apologize, tears burning under her lashes. He watches her, standing so tall and intimating between her legs, one of his hands raised, shimmering in the light, her juices dripping past his knuckles.

She feels the woman retreating, and suddenly his wet hand is around her throat as he folds himself over her, and she gasps breathlessly, hands now gripping at his wrist, eyes wide, lips parted in a silent cry.

“Right you are,” he hisses, his voice low and dark and dangerous. “You are mine, and only mine,” he looks up when he says those last words, and she hears a shuffle behind her. When he looks back at her, she stiffens even more, holding her breath (not that she could breathe anyway with how he squeezes her throat). “So what do you say to me?”

Her mind is blank with fear (and strangely enough a bit of arousal, may it be the remnants of her orgasm or a new wave of excitement), so it takes her a moment to understand his question, causing him to apply more pressure on her neck, but once she moves her jaw, he eases it and lets her speak, or lets her try to speak.

“Th... tha... thank y-you,” she stammers, her voice hoarse and feeble, her breaths panicked and fast, so she tries again. “Th-thank y-you, s-sir.”

Her attempts calm the anger that has overtaken his handsome face and it relaxes. He exhales loudly, and nods, slowly leaning back, his hand moving to slip around her head, gently squeezing her nape as he watches her, before he leans in again and presses his forehead to hers, staring deeply into her eyes.

“You are mine,” he says again, his voice vibrating through her. “Mine to use, mine to have. Is that right, darling?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, much quicker, holding his gaze, feeling herself sinking into his eyes, his dominance, his guidance. “I am yours.”

A smile grazes his tight lips, and she could have sworn he is fighting the urge to kiss her, show her the affection he usually would if they were alone, but they are not, so he just leans away, lets go of her and straightens up. She relaxes into the bench, hands falling limply onto her stomach, fingers curling into the hem of her dress, her eyes following his every move.

He inhales deeply, his large form growing for a moment, before he breaks eye contact and turns to the woman who has retreated into the shadows (and she wishes she would stay there). She hands him the black silicone toy, already lubed, shiny in the dim lighting, its shape a little different from the plug still sitting heavy in her ass. It's a little thicker, about as long, but more rounded, imitating the shape of a cock but only just, also bends a little as he rolls it between his long fingers.

She stares at him, waiting for whatever happens next. Her mind is still buzzing from what already happened, from entering this store to being bent over and plugged and pleasured, to being strapped down and pleasured all over again, and it's not over yet. Despite the dizziness swirling within her, her body is already reacting to the sight in front of her, as he approaches her, steps between her legs again, the shining item in his large hand. Her chest rises and falls faster, heart still beating as if it wants to jump through her ribcage, palms sweaty and lips dry in anticipation.

He holds her gaze, a little glint in his eyes while hers are wide and fearful. She doesn't even know anymore why she prefers fingers over sex toys, maybe it's more natural, more personal to feel somebody's heat instead of a cold, lifeless item. A toy pushed into another toy. Does it even matter? She shouldn't fight this, she knows that, he won't like it if she did, but she can't stop the involuntarily twitch of her body, the bucking of her hips, the strain in her spine as she tries to move away from where he's pointing the dildo.

His hand is on her stomach, large and heavy, pushing her down but also grounding her, giving her that warmth she's missing, and somehow she calms a little under the touch, every deep inhale pushing back against his palm. In her raised position with her legs spread so wide open, she can see when he rubs the silicone toy between her wet folds, gathers her slick, adds it to the lube shining on the smooth material.

He prods the tip against her entrance, and she stares, holding her breath, tensing up despite herself. His hand presses harder into her stomach, coaxing a gasp out of her, the motion making her look up at him, and he looks at her, hard, but his eyes seem warmer, reassuring, calm, sure of what he's doing, telling her it's okay. And it is okay. She inhales deeply, clenching her fingers around the fabric of her dress as she tries to relax the rest of her body.

She reminds herself she's had a toy inside her before, for several hours to be exact, and it was okay, more or less. She's felt full and a little stiff, but it was okay. She has been able to sleep with it lodged inside her no problem (kindly ignoring the outcome of that endeavor). But then she realizes she is not in his penthouse, not in a bed, but in a store, in the middle of the city, and she is supposed to walk around with not one, but two toys wedged inside her holes. How the hell is that supposed to work?

“Ah!” A pained yelp breaks from her throat as her thoughts are rudely interrupted by him pushing the dildo past the initial resistance and then continuously further, without hesitation, deeper, forcing it past her tense muscles, and she whines at the sensation, at feeling so incredibly full, and even worse when she feels the toy nudging against the other one in her ass through the thin layer between.

She writhes on the bench, almost howling now by how strange it feels to be stretched this much, to be filled this much, and suddenly the woman's hands are back on her shoulders, pushing her down, holding her in place. She feels tears streaming down her face as she watches him out of hooded eyes, vision blurry, her body still fighting the intrusion, clenching, tensing up even more, her legs kicking fruitlessly in their leather bindings, but he doesn't seem to care, just pushes the toy as deep as it will go, and she sees it disappearing inside her, feels it prodding her innermost spots, or so it feels, stretching her limits.

The hand on her stomach presses down again as if wanting to feel said toy through her skin, and she is certain it has to bulge out of her with how deep it is inside her, but when he removes his hand, there's nothing, just her fluttering belly, flat and covered in a thin layer of sweat. The woman hands him the leather straps she's carried earlier, and he starts arranging them around her thighs and her waist and hips, nudging her shuddering body to accommodate his handiwork.

Her whines are breathless little gasps now, her arms shaking from how hard she clutches at her dress to ground herself. She barely dares to breathe with how full she feels, how snug the harness sits around her lower body, holding everything in place. The last buckle is closed and secured, and she stares down at the contraption, those thick black leather straps, shiny and expensive looking, straight out of one of those BDSM clips she's stumbled across before. And in stark contrast to that, there's her pastel pink sundress, wrinkled from how she's holding onto the skirt part, with its cinched waist and modest neckline and those cute little white flowers.

And the girl on the bench is confused, to put it mildly. How is this happening? How did she end up strapped to a bench in a sex shop and plugged up by a toy in each of her holes, holes that have been virginal only a few days ago, holes she wouldn't even touch herself. Surrounded by two dominant adults, who are now stepping back to marvel at the sight in front of them. Surely they must see the contradiction too, how innocent she is on the surface while her insides are stretched and bullied by those silicone things that have no right to feel this invasive and yet so...

It's growing on her, to say the least. The longer they sit within her, slowly becoming a part of her, or so she hopes, the less stressed she is about it (well, we'll talk about how she is supposed to actually walk with them later). At least she thinks so now, lying on the bench, unmoving except for the nervous flutter of her stomach, with everything resting.

And while she calms down, savoring the quiet moment, the woman and the man walk behind her, out of her line of sight, and for a few more minutes, nothing happens – until it all explodes.

She almost jerks off the bench when the first vibration crashes through her. It's a single stab of movement deep within her, the attached toy throbbing hard against her tense muscles, and in turn pushing even harder against the other toy, and she bucks her hips, cries out, kicks her legs in their restraints, her hands flying to the harness between her thighs, clawing at the straps as she whines in protest.

“Relax,” sounds his voice, loud, demanding, echoing in her ears, and instantly grounding her as she stiffens, body shuddering as it is forced to remain still. She's breathing harder, frozen in her cramped position, before a hand pushes her back onto the bench.

He reappears between her legs, one hand on her knee, rubbing soothing circles into her skin as he looks down at her, the other hand holding his phone, his thumb pressed to the screen. She watches him breathlessly, new tears burning in her eyes. The hum grows inside her as he moves his digit over the device, and she clenches around the vibrating toy, grits her teeth, forces herself to endure.

His hand moves down her leg, short fingernails scratch along her inner thigh, teasing her sensitive skin, scraping over the leather straps. She is fixated on his fingers, focusing, distracting herself, and she realizes the harness sits low on her hips, a thick leather band running from her pubic bone all around her mound until it comes back up between her ass cheeks, tight and snug, thinning. And it sits right over her clit, and all he has to do, is push it down against it, and she wails, kicks her feet helplessly, convulses uncontrollably.

He holds the pressure, moves his thumb over the screen again before the buzzing grows stronger inside her. She thrashes her head back, hips arching upwards, insides singing with these unfamiliar sensations, and he pushes further, increases the vibrations once more, drives her closer and closer to the edge (of pleasure or insanity, she isn't sure at this point).

Her noises are loud and shrill in the room, the sound dampened by the velvet walls and other equipment, her throat quickly straining under the constant stream of whines and wails and cries, as she spasms on the bench, not even registering how the woman holds her shoulders, fingernails seemingly digging into her skin through the fabric of her dress.

She is overwhelmed, more than that, is barely able to breathe, to function, to think. Everything is buzzing, humming, twitching, fireworks explode behind her eyelids, pain crashes through her, turning into waves of pleasure that pull her away, threatening to drown her. Amidst the inescapable bliss, she hears a different kind of humming, voices, soft, amused, maybe even mocking, not that she cares.

“Such a sensitive little pet.” bleeds into a deeper thrum of “Good girl.”, and the praise spirals her even higher until she fades away into unconsciousness, letting go completely.

ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN

End notes: So I wanted to introduce a female character that could fuel our poor girl's jealousy, but then Mistress stepped into my head and dominated everything. That's just how it goes sometimes. She makes another appearance, but I'm not sure if I want to keep her, maybe in the next season? We'll see.

Also sorry for the confusion I'm sure I created by writing a scene with two unnamed females, I hope it came through who did what and wasn't too redundant either.

Thank you for reading!

Next chapter on Sunday!

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ELEVEN