#if you hit someone with a car on purpose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpjaes · 8 months

Text

take the back-seat. (p.js & s.jy)

What’s the point in being a third wheel if Jake can’t watch anyway? or the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.

minors do not interact, otherwise― pls reblog my works

PARING ― jay x afab reader | jake sim x afab reader

WC ― 8.5k

TAGS ― exhibitionist jay, voyeur jake, dangerous driving (do not do this), jealousy, mentions of cleaning up clumped cum in a gas station bathroom lmao

A/N ― what’s that? you’ve read this before??? yeah that’s bc i wrote it on my other blog and now i want to shamelessly read it as jay and jake thanks!!!! (i am the original author: ncteez, this work is not stolen)

– read part two here!

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS ― THICK DICK JAY, daddy long dick jake, exhibitionism, voyeurism car sex, dangerous driving, unprotected sex, voyeurism, jerking off lmao, jake being embarrassed and Jay enjoying it, jealous jay, jealous jake

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake was used to it at this point, walking in to see you being, quite literally, fucked senseless by his best friend. Each time he had managed to barge into the room when the two of you were going at it, he was lucky to slip away unnoticed and embarrassed for the both of you. He never brought it up, never really thought about it after the embarrassment died down, and never wondered when it would happen again.

Still, though, it kept happening.

What Jake didn’t know is that it was intentional. Both you and Jay were aware each time he would walk into a room, stop in shock, and then shuffle away. It was something Jay enjoyed much more than you did at first but, you’ve grown to love it as well, maybe even more than your boyfriend does.

Jay liked to be almost caught on some days, other days he wanted to be caught. What he wants most of all though? That’s to be watched. To have someone turned on by what he can do to you, to have them feel jealous of him or even stare in awe at how good he is when he fucks you.

When Jake moved in, Jay hadn’t really thought about letting him watch or even catch the action in the process. Jay’s big thing was doing it at parties or clubs when everyone was too drunk to care if they were watching or not. However, the first time Jake saw them was a genuine accident on both sides.

It happened shortly after Jake moved in with the two of you (for financial purposes of course.) Neither of you had issues with having a roommate, considering the spare room and all. It was a small place but it easily managed the three of you.

Jay was so in his head that day when he had you against the kitchen counter, breakfast plans long forgotten when he noticed that your ass looked particularly good in the lighting. He was so in his head that, well, he might have forgotten that Jake could walk in at any moment.

A clatter of bowls full of ingredients hit the floor as soon as Jay made eye contact with his best friend coming through the doorway, your leg was wrapped around his waist as he was attempting a deep thrust into you. Unfortunately, instead of that deep thrust, he panicked and pulled out of you so quickly that you lost balance and sent the ingredients flying straight to spoilage. Jake just looked at him, then at you, and then at Jay’s very exposed cock that still managed to stay hard under the circumstances before he turned on his heel and paced back to his room.

That was the first and only time it was an accident on Jay’s part. Sure, he was into that kind of thing before Jake moved in, but it didn’t even cross his mind to include Jake in the fun until that day, at least.

That night, Jay sat you down in the silence of your shared room and discussed that he will most definitely be fucking you in all areas of the apartment regardless of whether Jake was there or not and that he wouldn’t mind in the slightest if he wanted to watch.

You reluctantly agreed in the silence of your bedroom, only after mentioning that you didn’t want to make Jake feel weird about it, that you didn’t want him to act differently around the two of you. But Jay didn’t relent, assuring you that it would be fine.

It was fine for the most part, even you started to get a kick out of it from time to time when you pretended to not see Jake stare for a little longer on some days before leaving the room.

Jake just shakes it off each time though. Because of course, it’s hot. Multiple times a week it’s like he’s walking straight into a porn film before having to excuse himself, and it gets really frustrating sometimes, considering he isn’t the one getting laid. All he gets are glimpses of the two of you, the sounds he hears through the walls, and the utter joy the two of you seem to have despite his presence.

He’s learned to accept that neither of you seems to care what he sees, so he decides he won’t either.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a warm day in July. All three of you are packing bags and blankets into the back of Jake’s car for the trip ahead, and all three of you are entirely too thankful to whatever god allowed your schedules to line up in order to have a five-day weekend at the beach. It’s a long drive, 12 to 13 hours at least, but Jake and Jay agreed to drive in shifts so that makes it a lot more bearable.

“Did we get everything?” Jay asks as he throws himself into the driver's seat of the car and pats the passenger seat as if it were an honor to be invited to ride shotgun by him.

You nod to him, admiring his slender fingers against the steering wheel and realizing it has been a long while since he had driven you anywhere. In fact, the two of you mostly walked or got an uber for your outings simply because traffic is a nightmare in this city.

“Wait!” Jake shouts, throwing himself out of the open back door of the car. “I forgot my phone charger!” He exclaims as he runs back to the apartment building door.

And then it’s silent.

“He’s a really good actor.” Jay laughs, looking over at you and then steering his attention to the console buttons so that he can connect your phone for aux privileges. “A true sport, that guy.” He shakes his head this time, flicking his eyes up at you.

It’s pretty normal, actually, for Jay to find reasons to talk about it. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten used to the way he looks at you when he’s clearly thinking of something mischievous, but you always did love what his plans lead to—so you nod at him with a polite smile.

“What’re you getting at?” You say, reaching over to grab his hand in yours. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

He smirks at you, quickly giving you a kiss on the lips before pulling back to adjust the mirror in front of him, mostly for the purpose of Jake getting a good view later. Jake is a bit shorter than him, so he adjusts the mirror in a way that it won't be dangerous when he starts his driving shift. Plus, this mirror is only half of the fun. Just wait until Jake gets to the beach rental.

At this point, Jake is already rushing back out of the door with his charger in hand, smiling at the two of you and mouthing a small ‘sorry’ before placing himself in the back seat. He is quick to make himself comfortable, leaving himself unbuckled as he lays his legs across the seat and sighs out.

“Any song requests?” You peek back at him when Jay reverses the car and carefully listens to the GPS that cuts through the speakers.

“Oh, yeah actually!” Jake claps with another one of his well-loved fond smiles.

From that point forward, the three of you take turns picking songs to listen to. The GPS would sometimes interrupt the best part of a song to alert Jay on where he needs to drive, but honestly, it was going quite well.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hours go by when Jay finally pulls into a gas station for a break, the road trip vibes died about two hours after you left the house. Songs were being sung less, the windows were being rolled up so that the air conditioning could take over, and Jake had even fallen asleep with the warm sun hitting his face against the window.

He was pulled out of his sleep when Jay opened the back door so that the man could quite literally fall out of it. Which is funny, you admit when you head over to slap Jay on the back of the head for it.

“Jake, it’s your turn to drive,” Jay says, already opening the gas tank and preparing to fill it up for him. “If you need a bathroom, I suggest you go now.”

Jake nods his head and then rubs his eyes so that they can adjust to the bright lights of the gas station. The sun is going down and now he realizes why Jay preferred to drive during the daytime hours. It’s definitely going to be a rough next six hours but, he thinks the sandy beaches and colorful shaved ice will be worth it all in the end.

He lets out a long and loud yawn before heading inside the gas station to relieve himself and find a couple of snacks. By the time he got to the snack aisle, he crowds up beside you and asks for help in debating on if he wanted salty or sweet.

“You can get both, y’know.” You say, looking up at him with your own handful of snacks for both you and your very hungry boyfriend.

Jake looks down at you with sleepy eyes and then moves his gaze to the crinkled bags of candies and chips.

“Oh! Sick!” He yells, suddenly very awake. “They got frosted animal crackers! I haven’t had these since I was a kid!”

You chuckle in endearment at him, nodding at his selection.

“Don’t forget to grab something to drink to wash all of that sugar down.” You clap with him because his joy always seems to seep into your own mood. Still, you were ready to free your hands up from these snacks so the small joyous moment doesn’t last for too long.

You slink away from him with ease, leaving him to debate on if he wants one packet or two packets of frosted animal crackers as you make your way to the cash register.

After purchasing your snacks you’re quick to head back to the car where Jay raises a brow at you when you attempt to get back into the passenger seat.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” He asks, flicking his head to the back seat as if to tell you he wants shotgun. You shrug in response, piling into the back with ease and without question, feeling more comfortable with the space it has to offer anyway.

But, when Jay finishes gassing up the car, he doesn’t get into the passenger’s seat. He, instead, scoots into the seat next to you and leans forward between the two front seats in order to adjust the mirror a little bit more.

“Fuck yeah.” He says with a snide voice, peeking over at you as he leans back to get himself comfortable. You look at him with curiosity, wondering why the fuck he keeps messing with the mirror.

“What are you scheming? For real this time, tell me.”

Jay darts his eyes to the window of the gas station to look for Jake, and thankfully he’s still at the cash register paying for his stuff—probably because the dude likes to make conversation and refuses to read the signals of people just wanting to do their job and not hear about what his plans are for this trip. Then he leans in close to you, placing one hand on your thigh and the other against the nape of your neck.

If anyone else were looking at the two of you, it would look as if he’s about to make out with you—which would be fine, but he isn’t.

“Jake’s not gonna be able to run away this time.” Jay whispers as if the man inside the gas station can hear him. You furrow your brows a bit at his words before smiling with the same evil grin he gives to you.

“And did you not think to ask me if I even wanted to?” You shrug him off, pressing him away from you and turning to face the window, still smiling.

You’re definitely in on it but this isn’t exactly the safest way to do this. Still, your boyfriend has always been an adventurous one. Plus, you’re still gonna be a brat about it. Jay likes when you’re being difficult, and for the most part, knows you’d genuinely stop him if it were something you didn’t want to partake in.

“Of course you want to, I see the way you watch him when he sees us—” Jay gripes, glaring at you. “He can’t have you, but he can watch.”

You shrug at him again, acting as if you could care much less about this plan of his, but he can see that glint in your eye and the smile on your face.

“This is why I love you.” He says in a simple voice at the obvious confirmation on your face, and then he looks back to see that Jake is making his way back to the car.

“Don’t you think we should ask him first though? What if he doesn’t want to watch?” You quickly let out, knowing you’re down for the plan but still wanting Jake to be comfortable.

Jay is quick to shake his head at you. He knows his best friend is a fucking pervert.

“Relax, he pops a boner every time he sees us.”

You nod because he definitely does.

“If he says to stop, we can stop, okay?” Jay goes to reassure you again, but the conversation is cut short by Jake parking himself into the driver’s seat with a questionable look towards the two of you.

“No one is going to sit up front with me?”

Honestly, the way he says it seems so sad that you almost wanna say fuck the plan just to keep him company.

“I want to sit with my girlfriend since I haven’t gotten to in the past six hours?” Jay argues, kicking the back of Jake’s seat playfully.

“Bullshit! You were sitting up here with her the whole time! Who is gonna sit up here and keep me awake?!”

Jay is very well aware that Jake will definitely be able to stay awake. No question about it.

“I want to look at my girlfriend since I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the road for the past six hours. Stop complaining.”

Jake looks at Jay through the mirror, aware that it’s been positioned differently. Internally, he thanks his friend for not only adjusting the mirror for him, but the seat too. Less work on his part, honestly.

“You guys are the worst.” He complains, starting up the car and connecting his own phone to the system in order to continue the navigation and music on his own accord.

Then it’s silent. Jake starts to gently hum songs to himself as he gets into the groove of driving and you are in the back, with your boyfriend close by silently talking about god knows what. Jake feels comfortable despite the fact that he knew he would be the third wheel during this entire trip. Still, he really did think one of you would sit up front to keep him company.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Several hours later, Jake begins to feel sleepy again just as Jay wakes up from his own nap. You managed to stay awake the entire time because honestly, it wasn’t exactly easy to fall asleep with Jake up there grabbing into his loud-ass bag of animal crackers.

You just sat there in silence with your boyfriend using your legs as a pillow as he made his attempts at a comfortable nap, and you could tell he did manage that because of the way he fell asleep with his mouth open. You loved seeing him like this though, comfortable and warm against you. It’s really the only time it’s ever quiet when the two of you are together anyway, so you find the silence in this aspect quite enjoyable.

Typically, Jay is a quiet person. Not when he’s with you though, and certainly not when he’s with Jake.

Around you and Jake, he can typically be found forcing an argument about some bullshit he’s decided to be passionate about on that particular day, or perhaps talking shit about other people that, more than likely, didn’t mean to step on his toes. Other times, he’s dirty talking to you with such a booming and confident voice that Jake has no choice but to hear it through the walls.

Jay isn’t a quiet person ever when he’s within his own friend group, save for when he is asleep and that’s why, when he peeks an eye open and stretches in the cramped space against you, you become hyper-aware of the plan the two of you spoke about earlier.

You’ve been thinking about it the whole time since Jake started driving actually, realizing that the mirror is positioned in a way that would give him a perfect view of the backseat and the street behind him. All he has to do is adjust his eyes to where he wants the priority to be.

Surely, with Jay awake now, the priorities will change.

It’s dark now, rarely passing by another car every ten to twenty minutes you can guess. The music is still silently playing and the GPS is cutting in less and less with the long stretches of highways it has navigated the three of you to.

The car is smooth, there are no bumps in the road, no clouds in the sky to keep the moonlight from coming in, and no cars to distract Jake from what’s surely going to happen next.

And you were right. You knew you would be.

“Baby,” Jay lifts up and whispers in your ear, quiet enough to where Jake can’t hear him. “He looks a little tired—”

You look over at Jay with warm cheeks, already feeling the excitement and anticipation of what’s to come. He’s always so ready after a nap if you’re being honest.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You confirm to him, a little louder this time. Jake doesn’t falter or look back at the two of you through your hushed conversation though. Instead, he turns his music up a little more so that the two of you can discuss whatever it is you’re whispering about without him intruding.

“Should we wake him up a little bit?” Jay chuckles out through another whisper, already glancing down at your thighs. They’re bare in the loose pajama shorts you chose to wear for the car ride.

“Yeah?” He asks again, this time reaching over and hooking two fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

All you do is nod at him because any time he wants it, your body immediately reacts in the way it should. It’s almost like he’s managed to train your body to warm itself up the moment he even suggests sex.

Jay is very quick to take that nod as the green light to get to work. He palms himself gently with one hand to work himself up and uses the other hand to pull you against him. He makes it obvious that it’s a show when he positions both of you in the middle of the back seat, but doesn’t care if it looks dumb considering Jake likely won't be paying attention to where you’re sitting but, more worried about what it is you’re doing.

He palms at himself until his cock is restrained against his sweatpants, eyes concentrated on you where his fingers trace back and forth under your waist band. It really doesn’t take much for either of you, the small touch alone always gets you to start squeezing your thighs together.

“Yeah” He raises a brow at you, wanting that last little confirmation from you and glancing down at his bulge beneath his pants.

You look back at him with an eager and small smile, replacing his hand with yours.

“Yeah.”

“I’m ready when you are, baby—” He whispers out to you this time, more gently, and more for you than for Jake to eventually notice. Feeling the way your hands softly prod and press against his bulge with a sense of…nervousness.

You look at him, and then down at his bulge—for some reason, it looks more delicious in a moving car being illuminated by moonlight than it does in your apartment. Jake is barely in your thoughts now when you reach a hand over to pull it out, stroking it little by little until you can hear him gasp quietly to himself at the friction.

You jerk him off for a few minutes before he reaches over to touch you, only because he knows that you get wetter after you’ve been touching him for a while without any friction of your own—and he’s definitely right about that.

Side by side, your hand is slowly picking up the pace, circling around his length and twisting your wrist at the head. Only then does he let his hand slide into your shorts, straight down to where you, by now, actually need his fingers.

He can feel the slick almost instantly when he reaches your folds and firmly presses his palm against your clit. There’s somewhat of a groan that’s pulled out of his throat at that. The act alone is enough to get him hot and bothered, but knowing you’re already so fucking wet only amplifies the way his cock twitches in your hand.

Jake doesn’t notice a thing until he hears you breathe out loudly, mostly because Jay didn’t quite enjoy the fact that he hasn’t noticed yet. That sound you just made was solely to get Jake to look, and Jay pulled it out of you by plunging two fingers into you without warning, pressing his palm tight against your clit without warning.

It sends shivers down your spine, momentarily forgetting the small space you’re restricted by when you kick your legs out only to be met with the resistance of the back of the seats. Jay loves it. The way you spread your legs out at the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching said fingers.

He picks up the pace, feeling a dribble of his pre-cum spill against your stilled hand on his cock. And then? He glances up into the mirror to note that, yes, Jake is absolutely fucking watching. His sleepy eyes adjusting to the way your hand is wrapped around a cock a bit too thick to let you close your hand around it entirely, and, well, those spread legs, of course.

And then? Jake shifts his eyes away the second he notes Jay glancing up.

Oh. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Jay internally hates the fact that the two of you can be so absolutely shameless like he isn’t even here. That he can and fucking will just have a go at you right in front of him like this when he has nowhere to run, yet, Jake still pretends it’s not happening, even with his eyes practically boring holes into the two of you.

Jake turns his music up more now, drowning out the small gasps the two of you are letting out and trying to keep his focus on the road. He can just pretend this isn’t happening, after all, it’s really not his place to like, watch what’s happening.

No matter how much he wants to.

And when Jay hears the music turn up, he knows that Jake still hasn’t caught on and smirks over at you, plunging a third finger in and watching you gasp a little louder this time. He does it again, with more force, and then again, and again, until you’re almost whining and rolling your hips forward against his fingers so you can receive more pressure. So you, in your own little world, can force his fingers to reach ever deeper inside of you.

Then, it stops. Your head spins at the emptiness within you when you snap your head to your boyfriend.

There’s a low chuckle from Jay’s throat when he pulls his fingers out of you and swipes your hand away from his cock—he leans forward quickly and kisses you. You already feel overheated in this small cramped space, but feeling Jay’s lips against yours right now only makes it feel hotter, especially when he licks against your tongue in a way that shows you how much he wants you.

You kiss back with the same energy and he knows exactly what it means, just like you. The two of you know exactly what each other’s cues are. When the green lights go and the red lights flash—you’re both entirely in tune every fucking time.

Jay is quick with his hands, keeping his lips connected with yours when he pulls at you, trying to drag you onto his lap where his cock stands tall and glistening from the precum. You squeak out a small sound at him, turning your back to the front seat and easily throwing your leg over Jay to sit exactly where he wants you.

“Should we let him see more?” He leans in to look at you, but honestly can’t really contain himself from doing it anyway.

This is the first time he has ever done this sort of thing with you in a car, and it’s the first time Jake has nowhere to run so that he can act like he doesn’t like watching. Jake should be thanking him, honestly. There are no morals at this moment and Jay thinks it may be the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“I don’t think I can wait—” Jay chokes out now, answering himself when he feels you lean down to kiss against his neck with a humming sound coming from your throat. He’s already grinding up against you and releasing his own groans at this point, unable to ignore the fact that he needs to be inside of you right now, simply because this is his fantasy.

He quickly hooks his fingers into the crotch of your loose shorts, pulling both the shorts and panties to the side with ease before pressing up, you match his actions and sink down, feeling his length stretch you open inch by inch. The girth of his cock is always a struggle to fit at such a quick pace, still, he fills you to the brim when you struggle to sit further down. Thrusting up while simultaneously pressing you down by the hips.

It feels more desperate this time. Usually, the touching can last for upwards of an hour —but your boyfriend is looking so desperate and so good right now that you can’t really bare to resist him or his harsh thrust into you. Mostly because he always manages to make you feel just as fucked up as he does in any given situation. Enough to forget where you are. Enough to forget anyone is watching at all.

And as Jay feels your cunt squeeze around him, slowly beginning to spill your own wet onto his balls, he glances up into the mirror again—lips slack as he gasps out for you, a small and wordless praise at how tight you are, and then he smirks because there is Jake’s eyes, looking directly back at him, struggling now to keep his gaze where it belongs: on the road.

Right then and there, Jay makes a point to thrust into you for the first time with full force just so Jake knows that he’s aware that he’s watching, and he wants him to watch. For Jake, one could even say.

When he does it, you immediately gasp out at his cock tearing you open with that one tight thrust. You’ve barely managed to adjust fully, but goddamn is he deeper than usual at this angle. You can feel his length pulse inside of you which was enough already to have you panting against him, but now? As he slowly thrusts in and out, holding you up by your hips?

“God, Jay.” You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder as you see stars just from the lack of adjusting.

At those words, he’s only inclined to fuck a bit faster, sending a tingle of pain and pleasure straight through you as your jaw falls slack against him.

Jay hold your hips, helping you stay slightly elevated above him so that he can drive his cock into you, again and again, stretching you out and dragging against your walls at such a quick pace you literally can barely take in a breath—and when he moves a hand up to pull up to his lips by the back of the neck, his eyes are dark when you finally look at him.

He lips are still parted, he is out of breath and his eyes are hooded, still fucking up and into you with so much stamina. Too much stamina, actually, after his six hour driving shift.

“He’s watching,” He whispers against your lips, catching them just for a moment in a heated kiss before he continues. “Show him how much you love me.”

That alone causes you to moan out, the very idea of Jake watching hitting you directly in your stomach more than it ever did before, back when he was so quick to leave the room.

“Jay—I wanna see,” You stammer out in a small hiccup as he continues to practically fuck himself as hard as he can into you.

He only smirks with a breath at your request, gripping your hips even tighter before pressing you down, forcing his leaking cock into you ever deeper. He intentionally flexes it inside of you, smiling at the wince on your face at that constant stretch he always gives to you.

“You wanna see Jake watch you get fucked?” He asks in a smug and breathy voice, leaning to lick a stripe against your neck. “You’re so dirty—” He adds in a half-moan, releasing your hips and pulling back to look at you again when you immediately lift on your knees for relief.

“Turn around then.”

You do, carefully pulling him out of you with a wince of relief and shuffling your way around to sink back down on him again, this time with your back to his chest. Mostly so you can make direct eye contact with Jake this time, now that you know he’s watching.

You’re a little nervous but your thoughts are spinning so quickly that you don’t really care about any of that right now. If things are awkward after the car ride, it’ll be because Jake won't admit to liking it.

Which he clearly does, when you see his eyes flicking from the road back to the mirror with furrowed brows. You make a point to keep your eyes on him when you slide back down on Jay’s cock, leaning yourself against his chest and resting the back of your head on his shoulder.

This time, Jay keeps his hands at your thighs, one spreading your legs and the other hooking your shorts and panties to the side—holding them in place so that Jake could get a full view of his cock stuffing you entirely.

He can imagine how painful the stretch must look. Damn, your pussy always does grip when he’s burying himself into you. He’s almost jealous of the view.

That’s when you physically see Jake shiver as he darts his eyes down to what you presume to be the very spot Jay is displaying for him right now but, your attention is very quickly pulled away when Jay thrusts up, placing his chin on your shoulder and gripping your thigh even tighter to keep your legs open.

“Look at him—” Jay demands in a whisper when he bucks into you again, turning his head only slightly to whisper this time. “He’s loving this.”

And he is, as unfortunate as it is.

Jake is unable to drown out the sound of your moans with his music, he doesn’t even want to drown them out at this point. He could barely pull his attention from the mirror at first, but now? He definitely can’t now. Jake is keeping his eyes on the road only to glance back up and see a full view of your face staring back at him, your pussy pulsing around his own best’s friend’s cock—It’s a bit much, he will admit but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been when watching the two of you.

Mostly because, this doesn’t feel accidental now. With the way you’re either moaning and rolling your eyes back before looking dead at his eyes in the mirror, or you’re reaching down to spread your pussy out even more for him to see. Wiggling and wincing at the way Jay’s cock forever stretches you past your own limit.

Jake feels like he’s going fucking insane watching this, unable to bring himself to outwardly groan at the image just yet.

Unfortunately, that happens anyway. Against his will, even. His throat forces a groan out of him when he notices your blown pupils staring back at him as you gently bounce behind him. He can fucking hear how wet you are as you bounce, he can hear the desperate breaths and the pornographic moans—it’s taking everything in him not to pull this car over right now and take Jay’s place.

But he can’t. You’re not his to share. And while he can’t pull over to take over—he can, at the very least, attempt to release his own tension.

He is trying to be sly when he moves one hand from the steering wheel down to his own pining and jealous cock, palming himself through the soft fabric. He moans at the sensation without intention at the same time you do. Forcing his eyes to darken as you stare at him in the mirror.

You’re maintaining as much eye contact with him as you can, but it’s becoming difficult each time Jay whispers small praises in your ear.

“You must look so good from his angle, I’m so fucking jealous—” Jay grunts out against you, now holding you down again and taking over by thrusting into you with powerful, tight thrusts. “Are you spreading it out for him?”

You nod against Jay, finally allowing yourself to throw your head back against his shoulder again, this time swirling your own hips against him and using your fingers to spread your lips out impossibly wide for Jake.

Jay hums out at that, relaxing his body beneath you so that you could work your magic on him for his best friend. He holds onto your hips for a moment before glancing up again at the mirror.

He can see that Jake is driving one-handed and smirks to himself about that.

“Is he getting off right now?” Jay chuckles quietly as he moves your hair from the side of his face and uses the other hand to grip your chin and forces your eyes back to the mirror to witness what he’s witnessing himself.

You just moan at the sight, not only noticing that Jake is clearly still watching, but he’s moving too, his shoulder moving in a very obvious way in which would tell practically anyone that he’s fucking his fist as best he can right now.

“Talk to him.” Jay demands this time, wincing at the way immediately you pull yourself up and prop yourself on the center console, head peeking far enough past the seats to see exactly what Jake is doing and startling him enough that he swerves the car only a little bit in panic.

Jay stays leaned back in his seat, staring down at your ass and the way you bounce, forcing his cock in and out at such a beautiful pace at this point, no more pain in regards to his thickness. Just full on stretched pussy gripping him with each slide.

God, the view is always so fucking good.

You’re easily riding him now, perched up so that you can dirty talk his best friend just to get a rise out of him, Jay is loving it as he reaches a hand forward to spread your pussy out around his cock before pressing down on your back so that you sit against him harder.

You moan out next to Jake, attempting to keep your composure when you look down at his length pressing heavily against his pants. “Are you watching us?” You ask, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue.

Jake can see your body moving even though he can only see your face in his peripheral vision, unable to face you completely—it’s kind of killing him that you’re just talking to him while getting fucked. He’s embarrassed, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do?!

“It’s okay, Jakey—” You coo out, the pet name coming out like honey against your tongue. “We want you to watch.” You urge him on, seeing him immediately move his hand back to his cock.

You stare down at it, wondering how big it is and how good he is with his hands, but you know your boyfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate that much.

So, you whisper very quietly, leaning a bit more towards Jake as you watch his fingers grip his cock tighter than they were gripping the steering wheel earlier. “Why don’t you pull it out?”

Jay heard it, and honestly, he would normally be jealous because he will not share you with anyone under any circumstance, but the fact that he wants his own best friend to watch kind of calls for at least letting him cum right? By his own hand though, no more, no less.

You feel Jay thrust a little harder into you this time, pushing and holding you down by your hips. Knowing he’s kind of become the third wheel himself, despite actively fucking into you.

He fits himself into you with a force that tells you not to push it with Jake any further though, and you listen to his body language the same way you would with his words.

“Jay is okay with it, but you can only watch—okay?”

Your sweet voice hits Jake's ears, slightly moaning with each word. He knows you’re feeling good right now and he can’t contain it anymore. He can no longer pretend like he doesn’t think about watching the two of you like he doesn’t go and rub one out in his room each time he sees it.

That’s when he finally uses one hand to pull his sweats down with one tug, eyes fixated on the road as he listens to you. He knows you’re watching him, and doesn’t know what else to think about aside from the fact that his cock is springing out and leaking heavily against his t-shirt. Showing you how badly he fucking wants it.

“Oh—” You gasp, and Jake isn’t sure if it’s for him or for Jay.

You would never admit that it’s because of how much bigger he is in length compared to Jay, and how perfectly it fits into his hand, with those long and pretty fingers.

Jay is becoming increasingly jealous though, especially with the way you begin to bounce against his cock as if Jake is doing something that really gets to you, but goddamn it feels so good that he can’t bear to stop you. Hoping to god that Jake doesn’t manage to steal his girl from him while he’s literally balls deep.

He throws his head back this time and just lets you fuck yourself on him as you talk to Jake. You’re unable to stop yourself from riding Jay in a way that seems entirely too out of character for you. But when you look back, your boyfriend seems to really be enjoying himself.

You turn your attention back to the front, seeing now that Jake is moving his hand much quicker, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he desperately attempts to drive the speed limit at the very least.

“I bet you wish it was you, don’t you?” You urge him on, watching his reaction each time you speak to him. “Bet you wish you could feel how wet I am, Jakey, right?”

Jake can’t even contain his nod, moving his fist up his length at a quicker pace than before.

“Show me how you’d d—” You’re cut off with a moan when Jay reaches forward and grips your hips again, taking over for you and aggressively fucking into you at a pace that shows you that he’s either pissed or about to cum.

“Show me how you’d do it, ” You repeat through the thumping of the thick cock inside of you, attempting to keep a level voice as Jay aggressively spreads and grips your ass, grunting through each thrust.

Jake finally turns to look at you for a moment, a very short moment, and then intentionally fucks up into his hand once, twice, and then a third time before shooting his eyes back to the road in a panted groan.

He wants to show you just how hard he would fuck you right now if he were given the chance.

The way he moans throws you for a loop, much deeper sounding than your own boyfriend’s but the sound of it hits your core and spreads heat throughout your body.

You instantly reach down with one hand to circle your clit, clenching around Jay as he attempts to pull you back to him—but you stay in place, eyes trained on Jake’s cock being pumped relentlessly. You know he’s showing you the way he would fuck you, and goddamn he would probably be so good at it.

“Shit—” Jay chokes out. “Baby—” He warns this time.

You’re not sure if your boyfriend is telling you to pull off to prevent orgasm, or simply warning you that he’s absolutely about to fucking obliterate your cunt as best he can, all for Jake to watch.

Jay can tell you’re rubbing your clit, at least, but fuck you’re so goddamn wet. His cock slides in and out of you so much easier compared to some days and it feels so good to him. Warm and wet walls hugging him, pleading for his cock to keep going, and going, and fucking going.

He feels so good inside of you right now, more than usual, in this tiny space that the car offers. With your pretty moans, and maybe even Jake’s moans on top of it all. It’s a bit overwhelming, Jay can admit, as he suddenly, and desperately wants all three of you to cum with him.

Thankfully for Jay, you also desperately want to see Jake cum, and you hate to say that it’s kind of Jay’s fault for prompting all of this. Including the fact that you’re only pressed between these fucking seats watching him work himself because your boyfriend told you to talk him through it.

“Are you going to make me cum?” You ask out to Jake suddenly, sighing between your words and wondering why the fuck you just said that but, it sets off a fire in the man with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping his cock.

It gives him the illusion that he is fucking you, and that he will make you cum.

“Come on, Jakey, Jay’s close too.“’

And just like that Jake is squeezing himself so tightly, dragging his hand only once up his length before he’s nearly slamming his foot on the breaks. He lets his foot off of the gas instead, thankful that there is not a single car on this street when he cums. Visibly shaking and attempting to hold in his moans as he hears you directly next to him being fucked senseless.

“Oh my god–” Jake half-moans, unable to keep his eyes from rolling back as he stutters his body through the pulses of cum shooting out of him.

You praise him for it, wanting nothing more than to reach over and kiss him for looking so fucking erotic doing what he just did, but you opt to just compliment him.

The image of Jake breathing his way through his orgasm, keeping the three of you safe in this car throughout all of it, and obviously wanting to fuck you has you nearing your own climax as Jay’s hips stutter against you.

Your fingers against your clit grow increasingly aggressive as you finally allow yourself to fall back against Jay, taking over for his tired hips as you attempt to work him up to his orgasm.

Honestly, you feel like the sexiest person alive right now, two men unable to contain themselves over you—it feels so good.

And when Jay growls against you with an audible ‘never talk to him like that again’, you release, surprisingly, before Jay does. Cumming around his thick cock and gripping against the seats in front of you as your ears ring and your eyes begin to see colors.

Something about your boyfriend being jealous is just entirely too hot, you might just have to absolutely talk to Jake like that again. Only so you can feel the way he grips you possessively and mumbles strings of both praise and arguments against you when he finally hits his own orgasm.

Words like “what the fuck was he doing up there for you to get so wet, huh?” and “don’t ever use that voice on him again–”

When it’s all said and done, the car is a mess and Jake is immediately taking the next exit to the closest gas station. Partially so he can hide in the bathroom and cry before shamefully cleaning his juices off of the damn windshield (this is an exaggeration), but mostly so you could get cleaned up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake is standing in the bathroom staring at himself, opting to give up on cleaning the cum off of his shirt because this gas station appears to have the hottest water known to man and it only clumped up against the fabric.

He’s sighing to himself, realizing how much of an absolute freak he must seem to you and Jay when, speak of the fucking devil, the man himself walks into the bathroom and crosses his arms at Jake.

“Yknow—” Jay starts with a glare. “I could have sworn for a full ten minutes you were going to take my girlfriend away from me.”

Jake’s eyes widen in embarrassment, because in all honestly, he would have fucking tried if you’d have let him.

“It’s not like that.” Jake stutters, backing away from the mirror and forgetting that Jay is actually right behind him, so he ends up bumping into him. He very quickly twists around and properly backs away from him this time.

“Oh my god, relax.” Jay steps forwards and claps him on the shoulder. “I was the one who suggested we even do this, just like—watch what you’re doing.”

Jake nods, looking down.

“What do you mean?” Jake questions, still looking at the floor.

“What? You thought we could do all of this and expect you not to stay the next time you walk in on us?”

Jake blushes, fixing his eyes on the soiled spot of his shirt.

“I’m embarrassed—I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I just, did what she suggested?”

“That’s good.” Jay pats him on the shoulder again and forces him to look at him. “Jake, if you don’t touch her, you can do whatever you want with your cock—just know that I don’t share.”

Something inside of Jake both shatters and swells up. Yeah, part of him wondered if all of this would lead to a beach vacation threesome, but it doesn’t appear that way. Nevertheless, Jay is still offering up a pretty sweet deal.

“Is she okay with that?” Jake asks.

“More than okay. I couldn’t tell if she came for me or for you, which pisses me off, not gonna lie.” Jay pulls away from Jake and pulls his length out casually, dabbing it with a napkin before attempting to wet the paper towel.

“Fuck! Why is the water so hot!?” He exclaims, jumping back and looking over at Jake.

“This is too weird—” Jake says to himself with heated cheeks, and then turns his back to Jay. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, it won't happen again, honestly,”

Jay just shrugs, allowing his paper towel to cool down like an actual smart person before dabbing away the dried cum. It’s not like he didn’t rent out a single-roomed beach house in order to prompt Jake to watch during this vacation.

“She’s the one in trouble for that one. But we already talked. So we’re cool, just letting you know the boundaries, that’s all.”

Jay had specifically asked you not to dirty talk Jake the way you did or to call him by any sort of nickname. But you had urged that it was honestly the hottest thing Jay has ever done for you, though it was supposed to be for Jake.

He guessed you might be more into the whole being watched thing than he is, and that’s fair considering you never so much as tried anything kinky before meeting him. The two of you compromised. You’re only allowed to praise and talk to Jake that way if Jay is allowed to absolutely humiliate him at the same time. They’re not even sure if Jake is into that sort of thing, but you’d both stop the moment he felt uncomfortable.

“Okay, so… “ Jake says, waiting for Jay to finish his cleanup. “Is this gonna be a normal thing then?”

“Maybe, if you keep wanting to catch us, that is.”

“I swear, I never did that intentionally!” Jake defends himself but finally looks over at Jay who has his pants pulled up now.

“Oh, I know. It was also my idea to have you catch us all the time. You definitely liked watching though.” Jay winks at Jake knowingly, but before he could even attempt to respond there’s a toilet flushing and a burly man walking out of the furthest stall in the back.

Both men stare at each other, too stunned to move based on the fact that this man had been sitting on the toilet listening to the entire conversation and hearing them clean cum off of themselves. Honestly. If there was a hole nearby, Jake would probably bury himself in it (no pun intended).

“Gentlemen.” The burly man says with a solemn tone, and all Jake can do is turn around and walk the fuck out of there as quickly as he can.

“Uh—” Jay says to the man, pointing behind him with his thumb and an awkward smile before turning on his heel and pacing out directly after Jake.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

– read part two here!

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #jake smut #jay smut #enha smut

2K notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

Note

I love all your stuff! Are you planning to update Passion for Fashion, Child Support, or Congratulations It's Triplets soon? They are some of my favorites! If not, it's chill. Everything you write is kinda awesome so I look forward to anything you are willing to give

The Justice League has kept a weary eye on Danny Constantine because he is the son of one of their less than willing-to-work-in-team members and has found his way onto the youngest hero's team.

Robin, Abuse, and Superboy (the new one, not the Young Justice one) rarely went into the field. They mostly worked within Gotham, handling minor things until they got a feel for the dangers and the work of being a hero.

Bruce, assured everyone that within his city he was fairly sure he could keep them safe. (fairly because let's be honest, it is Gotham. That place was crawling with lunatics- Batman being one of them)

Clack would have preferred if Jon started in a smaller, less dangerous place, but his son has proven more than willing to sneak out to meet with Damian and Colin. It was no secret that Robin was the most trained and the most prepared to lead his team.

That didn't mean they were comfortable with three little children running around risking their lives. Phantom was the group's eldest but also the newest member of the team. He did struggle with his powers, but every day, under the careful eye of Batman's son, he grew more and more in control.

They were pleasantly surprised by how well he fit into the Super Sons. (A work-in-progress name developed when the team had only been Robin and Superboy.). The Justice League had been even more astounded by how careful Phantom was about property damage.

It's true that in a fight, they couldn't help with some damage, but Phantom always went out of his way to remind the other kids mid-battle to be careful and avoid breaking anything. He was more often than not racing after whatever car or building was thrown to faze it through other things.

He even helps the citizens take some photos for insurance purposes. It was shockingly refreshing to see someone worry about the logistics of being a hero.

When asked, Phantom would only blush in embarrassment. "My dad caused a lot of property damage when he drove. I got good at helping people file cases as an apology."

John denied it to everyone, but seeing as Danny's other father was literal Time itself, there was no way he wasn't the idiot on the road. Bruce prepared some lawyers for the people he may have hit and run.

It also helped that Danny seemed to be the new voice of reason within the Super Sons. One that wasn't convinced to try anything by Damian- --- Jon- or follow blindly behind Damian-Collin. He was respectful of Robin's role as leader but was always willing to talk him into respecting the team's suggestions and how to properly communicate. The success rates of Super Sons were skyrocketing with Danny, especially since Danny seemed to be great at PR.

Before Robin and Abuse were not as welcomed by the masses. Robin for being far more violent and rude than his pressors and Abuse for the absolute mountain of muscle that reminded people too much of Bane. Even Superboy was not as warmly noticed simply due to Gothamnics having a bitter rivalship with Metropolis City.

Phantom, on the other hand, was cheerful, helpful, and had enough of his father's sass to make even the worst of Gotham's grin. He also made time out of his day to help the community, walking people home, finding lost pets, cleaning up neighborhoods, and even appearing to clothe and feed whoever he came across.

Bruce himself claimed that a majority of the goons that Danny fought were slowly attempting to turn their life around. Danny had this strange ability to make people feel safe around him, and that let them get comfortable enough to talk about their issues.

It was hard to remember that Danny was blood-related to John Constantine out of all people. His civilian lifestyle, on the other hand, was completely different from his magical father in another way- he was a loser.

While Phantom had this glow, attention-grabbing charisma about him, Danny Constantine seemed to shrink in on himself and fumble with social interactions.

Bruce theorized that his human blood side lacked the near hypnotic attraction of Clockwork. Texts and tombs spoke of Clockwork as temptation itself, and he figured Danny had inherited that intoxicating ability.

This meant that Damian had to be worried about his teammate being bullied out of his sight.

It was displeasing to know that somewhere in the country, Danny was being made fun of, pushed around, or even attacked while he sat in the comfort of his elite school.

If there was one thing Damian Wayne could count as his flaw, it was being feireicly overprotective of those he considered his. That's why he strong-armed his father into paying for Colin to go to Gotham Academy while attempting to convince Clark to transfer Jon.

Jon himself didn't suffer from bullying, so he remained in Metropolis Middle School. His Beloved was moved to his classroom, where Damian had attached himself to his side and scared away anyone foolish enough to attempt to make Colin cry.

Beloved had awarded him with sweet kisses every time, so sometimes Damian hoped the fools of the Academy would try him more often.

Danny however, remained in some stupid school that had teenage boys bother him. John claimed he couldn't afford to send Danny anywhere better, and was seen stressing in the Watch Tower computer room looking into homeschooling.

Apparently, Danny's health depended on healthy relationships with humans. His biology literally attacked him if he couldn't be around people, and John was always pushing for Super Sons to have more meet-ups outside of suits as much as possible while trying to find a new school.

Danny has been moved to four schools already. The bullying just didn't seem to stop no matter where he went as a human.

"Father, it's important," Damian says for the fifth time. "Danny is struggling. It would be better to place him near us to provide protective support."

"Damian, I can't just pay for all your friends' education. It will get suspicious." Bruce sighs. "There are already rumors about Colin."

"But Father, you must think logically. Constantine may have sired him, but Danny is still Clockwork's son. He controls time. He is an entity we can not afford to make into an enemy. I highly doubt he will be pleased by how some mortals have been treating his son." Damian counters, ignoring the rage of the comment about his Beloved. He will find the mouths that will need to be taught to keep Beloved's name out of later. "This could stop whatever retaliation that is sure to be coming in its tracks."

Bruce considered it. "I could try to make it seem like Danny won something on his own....but I'm worried the board is starting to catch on. The other day Babs had to block an investigation of me possibly emblazing funds. "

"Father you do not understand-"

"Bruce!" Tim yelled, racing into the room, holding a laptop. "Bruce, it's Klarion! He's in Gotham."

Damian and Bruce both stiffen in horror. They dislike magic the most, seeing as it rarely follows predictable logic. Not that they couldn't eventually find the answer or the rules of whatever magic user was flowing, but it was a lot longer and headache-inducing. "Why is he here, and what does he want?"

"Well....he's not really doing anything bad?" Tim says, flipping the screen around. On it, the two Waynes can see a flouting teen snapping his fingers turning everything on the street into gold.

"If I was your husband, you would want for nothing!" Klarion cries, sinking to one knee before the startled-looking Phantom. "Oh, great heir of Clockwork, our union would be spoken for generations!"

"Lord of Choas Klarion, I am flattered by your offer but I'm not considering marriage right now." Phantom awkwardly says, rubbing his neck.

"But my young lord, Clockwork has proclaimed that your marriage partner is yours to make," Klarion says, snapping more of his fingers and turning the lined-up cars into large bouquets of roses. People scramble around from the demon, screaming as his magic nearly turns them. "Surely you see if our houses combine we would be unstoppable?"

Phantom's face hardens. "First of all, I don't date anyone for interest. Second, you're starting to bother the people of Gotham so cut it out. Third, I already said no so you-"

"Take a bloody hint and leave my boy alone!" John Constantine screams portaling into the scene with a wave of magic. He throws five powerful spells at the Witch boy who hisses back.

Hisses like a snake.

"Insolent mortal! This does not consider filth like-"

"Don't talk to my dad that way!" Phantom shouts cutting the Choas Lord off.

Klarion demonic features shrink back into a regular face as he blinks in shock. "This moral is your father?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Forgive my rude behavior, sir." Klarion's tone smooths out in an instant, snapping his figures to dust Constantine's shoulders. John frowns at him which makes the witch boy actually stumble. "Surely I can make it up to you? I am very interested in becoming your son-in-law and wouldn't want to make our relationship strain by my hasty behavior"

Bruce reaches over and closes the laptop before they can hear Constantine's response. "We are not dealing with whatever soap drama that was."

"Father!"

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #child support #Part 3 #Danny is dealing with many marriage propsals #He is also struggling as a human #Klarion is trying to marry up #Bruce is too tried for this #John is even more tired #Phantom has siren-like allure to humans #Clockwork is laughing his ass off somewhere #Team Super Son getting some much needed PR

1K notes · View notes

mingigoo · 7 months

Text

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

1K notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 7 months

Note

can’t help but to think about jake being your family’s car washer, shirtless in the garage, sweat all over his face and dripping down his abs, panting due to extreme fatigue. You can’t help but stare at him as he noticed how you’re drooling over his naked body and how you practically eye fuck him. And of course, who is he to ignore your stares as he walk towards you and made you touch his exposed chests and abs, which leads to the both of you fucking on every car you have in the garage. 🥵

As one of the best writer here in this app, I request you to continue this 🤭 I love your fics btw and thank you for interacting with me 😫

HOLY FUCKING SHHIIIITTTTTTTTT YOUR BRAIN IS CHEF KISS ON G O D. I am so in love with this scenario like just imagining shirtless, sweaty, wet, and soapy jake fucking you on the clean car he just finished washing, leaving soapy stains and hand prints all over the hood…and THANK YOU for requesting this🤭 I am happy you put me into the category as one of the best writers…it gave me a hella ego boost fr fr!! this one is for you bae 😘🩷

jake x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

Ever since your family hired Jake as their personal car washer, you’ve struggled to keep your eyes to yourself.

You thought the idea of your family even hiring someone for such a job was, in fact, stupid. Completely ludicrous. Why hire someone to wash your cars when there are LITERAL car washes to drive your car through? Or ya know, the hands of the family members doing it

You guessed since your family had money to blow and not enough time on their hands, hiring Jake was something they wanted. You couldn’t argue with your parents, not when they are paying for your college and letting you live at home still rent-free…who were you to complain?

Obviously, the first few times Jake came to wash the cars, you’d scrunch your nose at him, purposely getting in your car and driving away, making his job harder on him. You didn’t care at first, you thought this idea was stupid and a waste of money when you could just wash your car yourself.

But it wasn’t until you took a nap after class completely forgot Jake was scheduled to wash the cars. Hearing the sound of water from the hose hitting the hoods of one of the cars that you jolted from your bed and quickly rushed to the window peeking behind the blinds, seeing Jake bent over your father's car, clothes completely soaked and soapy with the massive sponge in hand as he cleaned the hood.

You are filled with anger after seeing your car was moved and parked in the grass, seeing it was already cleaned.

Jake wasn’t stupid, he knew you hated him even if it was for reasons unknown, not that he even cared, he was getting paid bank to wash four cars once every week. So when he arrived for his scheduled time and saw your car parked in the garage…oh the sweet shenanigans that filled his brain.

He’d knock on the front door like he does every time, smiling at your mother’s face when she opened the door for him, her earpiece attached to her ear showing that she was in the middle of a meeting. She smiled at him, raising her index finger to her lips and giving him a wink, waving him inside to grab the keys.

Jake grabbed the keys from the key bowl your family kept beside the garage door, his smirk growing ever more wide at seeing your keys sitting there.

So Jake washed your car first, pulling it from the garage. He didn’t even put the seat back into place after he was done like he normally would. He wanted to make your life hell the next time you sat in your car. Wanting to give him side-eyes, scrunched nose, and nasty looks every time you saw him? He’ll play your game. He even moved all the mirrors so you’d have to move them back and purposely leave your car parked in the grass in the front lawn knowing once you put two and two together you’d either rush outside to yell at him or stare at him from the second floor in your bedroom.

But you took too long to notice him, and he went ahead and started on your father’s car.

The early summer heat was making Jake exhausted. He was soaked, had soap literally everywhere, and could feel the sweat dripping down his face and body. He flung his head back, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows cursing the heat. But when he opened his eyes and saw you staring down at him from your bedroom…the game was back on.

Jake dropped the sponge into the water bucket, eyes going back to you and keeping eye contact as his fingers reached for the ends of his shirt, slowly lifting it above and over his head and dropping it onto the ground.

You quickly looked away from the window, slamming your back against the wall, hands slapping against your face.

Oh god, he’s hotter than I thought.

Since then, you didn’t mind Jake being around. You purposely started putting reminders into your phone on the days Jake would show up.

You always found Jake attractive, but that day he took his shirt off…it sent you to another world you didn’t think was possible. You were so angry at your parents for hiring him, but now all you did was thank them.

At first, you tried to hide that you were watching him, but he’d catch you every single time. And as the seasons changed from spring to summer, the less clothes Jake started to wear.

Again, he wasn’t an idiot. Jake knew you were eye fucking him every chance you got. You stopped being so secret at watching him. Giving every excuse in the book to walk into the garage to “grab something” or “get something from your car before he washes it”. It boosted his ego every single time knowing that you wanted him. He purposely started showing up wearing tighter shirts to tight tank tops that showed off his toned arms. Tighter shorts that gave away completely that man is packing.

Jake obviously thought you were hot too and he couldn’t deny that fact he’s thought about dicking you down against every single car in the garage. Imagining how completely dumb he’d have you on his cock.

And he finally was given that opportunity.

It was one of the hottest days of the week. Jake took off his tank top to cool himself off for once instead of doing it to make you tremble. But it worked in his favor as he walked into the garage to cool and dry off before moving the final car back into the garage, and you walked out.

Jake stopped halfway into the garage, eyeing you up and down.

You were wearing a white crop tank top that hugged your breasts perfectly. Jake loved the fact you weren’t wearing a bra, noticing quickly how your nipples poked through. And oh GOD he noticed how tight your shorts were, hugging your thighs and pushing up in between your pussy’s lips, showing off the outline. Jake could only imagine how good your ass looked in those shorts, silently begging that you’d give him an excuse to grab something and turn around so he could see the view.

“Oh uhhh…” you said, eyes scanning his body and stopping at his abs. You weren’t expecting to see him in the garage, clearly already finished his job. Every excuse you had to use was thrown out the window, “Finished already?”

Jake chuckled slowly walking towards you, “Since when have you cared when I’ve…finished?”

Jake was getting too close to you, well not too close to the point you didn’t like it, you obviously wanted him closer, but you weren’t prepared for it at this moment.

“I uhh…” you tried to search for the right things to say, any excuse you could say. At this point any bullshit. You’ve only ever stared at him from a distance, talked to him in passing so you could stare at him. These were the consequences of your actions.

“Use your words, baby,” Jake said, his body now inches away from yours, chuckles escaping his mouth, “What? You were so vocal about how much you hated me when we first met, why so quiet now?”

Because you’re the hottest human being I’ve ever met

You just slightly shrugged, still trying to find literally anything to say.

“I said,” he whispered, his wet, soapy hands grabbing both of yours and blessing them on his wet, soapy, sweaty chest, “Use your words,”

You tried to not moan out just from touching him. The warmth of his chest was enough to send your whole body temperature skyrocketing. Your eyes wander down to his chest, watching as the water mixed with his sweat rolled down his body, how his chest raised and fell, feeling how fast his heart was racing.

You slid your hands down his chest, stopping at the top of his abs, letting your fingers trace around them.

Just from your touch, Jake was already rock hard. He wanted nothing more than to drag you up the stairs and bend you over your bed, face pressed so deep into the sheets while he railed you from behind. But he couldn’t get up the stairs without passing your parent’s shared office. The garage would have to do.

Jake wasted no time flying his hands to your waist and pressing you to him, his lips pressing aggressively with yours.

Your thighs rubbed together at feeling him against you. You wanted him. Oh god did you want him.

Jake mapped out the garage in his mind, looking for a place he could fuck you without making anyone in the house take notice of it.

And there was only one place he could think.

Jake quickly twisted you around, your back being pressed against the hood of your car. The water and soap from Jake’s body were now seeping into your clothes, making them soaked.

Jake groaned at your now wet shirt, your nipples showing through completely and he didn’t even have to remove your shirt for it.

Jake’s lips found yours again, his fingers sliding down to your heat, rubbing it gently. You were already so soaked and he barely touched you.

“Fuck baby girl, already so wet for me?” he smirked against your lips, “Already so needy for my cock.”

You quickly nodded, wanting to feel more than just his fingers rub against your cunt.

“Use your words, we’re both adults here,”

You now wanted to beat the shit out of him. Jake was loving this, loved the way you scrunched your nose at him teasing you.

“Fuck me, Jake.”

Jake took your wrists in his hands, pinning your hands above you, “Where are your manners?” he rubbed his clothed hard dick against your cunt, “Only good girls get what they want.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to be a brat, but didn’t want to test Jake’s patience.

“Fuck me please Jakey,”

Jake groaned at the nickname, his hand going back down to your folds and sliding your shorts to the side and pushing his wet shorts down far enough to release his throbbing cock.

You bit your lip at the sight of his cock, your pussy clenching around nothing at the anticipation of him fucking you.

Jake lined himself up with you, then pushed himself in.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you, pushing him deeper inside of you.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he moaned in your ear, having to steady his hands at the side of your head to help fuck into you, “Fantasized so much on how good your pussy would feel wrapped around me.”

You had to bite down on your lip to keep your moans from escaping, not wanting to get caught.

Jake had other plans.

His hand reached up to your chin, fingers pulling your lip from your teeth and spreading your mouth open, “Oh no sweet thing,” he growled, “You’ve been so vocal before, you aren’t going to go quiet now.”

He fucked into your harder, faster, making the car beneath you two shake at his pace, “Moan for me. Moan my name, use that pretty voice of yours.”

You tilted your head to the side, attaching your lips to his ear, moaning out his name.

If you were going to be vocal, it was going to directly be in his ear. And oh man Jake was loving it.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, his fingers trying to keep their grips on the hood from how wet and sweaty he was, from the soap that covered his body making it hard to keep in place. But he didn’t care. He was balls deep inside you, you were moaning his name like it was the only word you could speak. He was in heaven fucking an angel.

Jake didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to last, your tight cunt was sucking him so good and he was so pussy drunk he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until he was unloading himself into you. His climax was fast approaching, but he’d be damned if he came before you.

His hand flew to your cunt, thumb rubbing circles against your clit and his lips sucking on your soft spot just below your ear and jaw, “Cum for me baby,”

Your pussy clenched around him, the sensation and the magic of his fingers was sending you over the edge. Your hands gripped the hood of your car the best they could as you released onto him.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he moaned biting your skin, his thrusts slowly coming to a stop as he made one final push, painting your gummy walls white.

Jake placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you and setting your shorts back into place.

Fuck you were a sight to see, looking so fucked out against your car that he just finished washing that now had your and his hand prints all over the hood.

Damn, guess he now has an excuse to have to come back over tomorrow to “wash it again” or better yet fuck you against it and every car in this garage.

And by the look on your face, Jake knew you were thinking the same thing.

#jake bby #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #reader x jake #sim jaeyun x reader #reader x sim jaeyun #sim jake smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #yeonzzzn writing #yeonzzzn asks

1K notes · View notes

bunnys-kisses · 7 days

Note

hii, could I order a croissant, a mince pie, and an iced tea served by toto? (maybe with brown or horner reader:)

thank you, honey🤍

bakery menu

welcome to the bakery! how can i take your order? want to submit your own order, then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you!! as for this lovely anon, i changed one thing. that it wasn't an accidental launching of the relationship. but rather toto did it on purpose! (oops), i hope you love the fic

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mince pit ("i'm not jealous) + iced tea (accidental launching relationship) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/50s), size difference, zac brown!reader, launching relationships, roadside sex, car sex, cow girl position

toto sipped his drink and watched you from a short distance. the drink was sour in his mouth as he watched you talk to your father. you had always been a daddy's girl. he knew first hand how that manifested itself.

your daddy issues were so painfully clear cut, he didn't know why you would question how you ended up with them. your father was zak brown and yet you went home with toto wolff. if you were all royalty, this would count as treason and your two nations would go to war.

but this was formula one, and while it was different. toto still shouldn't have been bedding you for several months now. even now as he watched you chat with your father over drinks, toto wanted to undress you and kiss every inch of soft skin.

your father be damned.

it was after a night of drinking and toto was more than happy to take your keys away and drive you home himself. you could grab your car tomorrow, tonight toto needed to make sure that you were okay.

"thanks for doing this, toto." zak said as he shook the other man's hand.

toto nodded, he would play the shining knight. at least until he got you into his flat for the night. you looked nicer in toto's bed than you ever did your own. too many stuffed animals all over yours. he said to your father, "it's not a big deal, zak. it's better someone drive her than she drive herself."

zak chuckled, "i remember drinking that much at her age. it would kill me now." he laughed, "i bet you remember those times!" sometimes toto was reminded that he was your father's age almost to the t.

but as you once said to him, 'sucking your cock is cheaper than therapy.' as you filed your pretty nails that he would later pay to get painted.

you were soon at your father's side and laughing, "who's taking me home?" then looked to toto then your father, "he's taking me home?"

zak chuckled and looked at you, "yes. you'll be nice to mister wolff, right? no getting sick in his car?"

you nodded dumbly and smiled at toto once more, the smile was knowing and it made toto hot all over. you said to your father, "of course! thank you daddy, i'll text you when i get home!" then kissed your father on the cheek.

little did zak brown know. little did he know.

"you're jealous. you're jealous!" you said in a sing-song tone to toto once you were out of the venue, "you're jealous of my dad!" you giggled and rested against him as he brought you to his expensive car.

"i'm not jealous" he replied as he opened the car doors and got you inside. even buckled you in and you reached for him cutely to place kisses all over his face. if freud were alive, he'd be gawking at this moment. toto closed your door and then got into the car on the driver's side.

before his door was closed, your hands were all over his face. feeling the masculine nature of his features. those dark eyes, that strong jaw, that nose of his. it all excited you as you tried to get your hands all over him. you were like an insatiable puppy who demanded kisses.

he held onto the back of your hair to keep some distance between the two of you. he looked at your lips and sighed, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you pouted a little, "my daddy has no idea."

"maybe he should find out at some point." all toto knew was that if his phone went missing, there was a folder with so many photos of you in various states of undress and redress. from your pretty pussy on display to a heavy skiing jacket when you went on vacation with some 'friends' (it was toto). he knew if he ever sold them, he could make a healthy dollar. but he'd never do that. he had a hard enough time with you wearing a two-piece swimsuit around your friends.

soon toto was driving and his hand was on your thigh. slowly he inched up that skirt until his long fingers were in between your thighs, just over the waistband of the poor excuse you called panties. a lacy white number that toto bought for you.

"you wore them."

"only for you."

"did anyone else see them?"

you looked at toto with the cutest expression that fell naturally on your face. you smiled at him, still a little drunk, "of course, daddy. only the best for you."

the road you were on was quiet and toto had no choice but to pull over. he couldn't very well send you back to your cute little apartment without a pussy full of his cum. not when you were giving him such delicate looks. you were already heated and toto wanted you between his teeth.

with the car lights off, you could only maneuver yourself in the dark as toto leaned back the driver's seat to let you onto his lap. he undid his belt and his cock out of his slacks. your panties were over the back of the passenger's seat for safe keeping (they'd be lost).

in the dark you managed to find his cock and sink yourself down on it. your eyes went wide for a moment from the stretch of his cock settling inside of you. you shuddered and your inebriated mind made everything feel heightened.

"you're going to be a good girl for daddy?" he asked. he wanted to show you off to the world. show zak brown that he didn't have that tight of a grip on you. that you were a woman and you were dating a man. and there was nothing that fucker could do.

you might be brown's daughter but you were toto's baby girl. once again, daddy issues sprouted their ugly heads into the back of your mind as you rode the older man. he pushed the skirt of your dress up and kissed at your neck.

the car rocked a little bit from your movements and you panted heavily. the windows fogged up on the quiet back road. toto's hands switched from your breasts to your hips then back to your breasts when he groped them with those paws he called hands. they were huge, it was intimidating. you still didn't know how those digits managed to fit into your poor pussy.

he licked his lips as your held onto his hair, he then pressed kisses up against your heated skin. he felt the heat in his gut as he pressed kisses at your skin. his hands were eventually full of the softness of your hips as he guided your faster up and down his cock.

you panted heavily before you pulled his hair to get him to face you where you made out with him once more. you whimpered between kisses a simple, 'daddy.' and it made toto hot all over. your back arched as you really worked at his length.

you felt the sweat cause your dress to stick to your back and you make up to run a little around the edges. toto thought you looked beautiful, like a debauched little princess. all because of him. wasn't that something? that zak brown's daughter was riding toto without a car, in a semi public space. anyone could drive by and snap a photo. wouldn't that make headlines.

he held onto you tighter and started to move you faster on top of him. your noises were loud as the car rocked to your movements. and toto felt himself get so close to orgasm.

but you were first. you held onto your lover tightly and whimpered, "daddy" as you felt yourself climax. your back arched with your head almost hitting the roof of the car.

but toto kept you close to him. there was nothing that could hurt that (empty) little head of yours. not while toto wolff was still breathing. you felt so good against him even when you went a little limp against him. but he continued to work your hips against him, he buried his cock in you as deep as it would go.

your noises soon turned pathetic and the car reeked of sex. eventually toto finished inside of you with one last heavy thrust. he spilled himself into you. not that you cared, sometimes toto wondered if you enjoyed the risk of him finishing inside of you. that maybe you'd be mostly wolff dna if he came into you enough times. and toto was happy to comply because that meant you'd eventually have toto's baby at your hip. but that was for later. right now he had to get you alert enough to get into the passenger seat so he can get you home.

"come on. pull down that dress a little and get yourself seated."

you woke up the next morning in your bed to a flurry of messages, a full voice mail inbox and even fifteen emails from various people within your network. through bleary, sleepy eyes you basically made out one thing. check social media.

upon opening the app, any tiredness was zapped from your body and you felt hyper away. your eyes went wide when you saw toto's page, the newest photo wasn't of the cars or the tracks or anything. it was you in his apartment in monaco in one of his shirts (with no bra given that you could see your nipples through the fabric) looking not at the camera but at the book on the history of mercedes that he kept on the coffee table. you knew the exact moment that was taken... and now the rest of the world wanted to know every detail about your little love affair with toto.

especially your father, who was calling your for the fifty-first time that morning. there was a lot of explaining to do. <3

#bunny writes #the bakery #torger toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fanfic #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one smut #f1 smut #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

360 notes · View notes

nadvs · 2 months

Text

better off (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary your split with rafe left its mark. when you feel like you’re finally getting over him, he pulls you back in. you decide that break-up sex is the best way to say goodbye once and for all.

warnings substance use, smut, toxic relationship

» masterlist

You have to remind yourself of his temper. Of his need for control. Of how fucking mean he can be.

Because when you’re at a party in a beach house on the north side of the island and your phone flashes with a text from Rafe, your drunken instinct is to reply to him.

It’s been a month since your last explosive fight. That argument in his car was the final nail in the coffin, the wake-up call that whatever you were trying to put back together was unsalvageable.

It ended abruptly. Your mind has replayed your last screamed words over and over again. This isn’t working, you shouted, your throat burning. Fuck it then, he shouted louder.

And you got out of his car and haven’t spoken since.

Despite its end, it’s not like your six-month relationship was all bad. Between great dates and even greater sex, you two had formed a real friendship. Because of those good times, you’ve been holed up in your bedroom since, grieving, crying your eyes out.

But when it was bad, it was toxic. You yelled at each other. Called each other names. Played mind games.

The worst was that you were both fuelled by spite when you were angry. He purposely hit you where it hurt, validating your insecurities just to crush you.

Although you exchanged some vile words, you think you’ll always regret when you told him he’s just like his father. His face fell. He went quiet. You’d never seen someone’s eyes lose their light quite like that.

Your eyes travel over Rafe’s text. You at Dec’s?

Your mutual friend Declan is the host of the ridiculously loud party you’re standing in the middle of. This is the first time since the break-up that you’ve felt okay enough to go out. And your stomach turns with anticipation that Rafe is somewhere here in the crowd.

At first, you wanted to text back that you are. But as your mind flashes through everything he did to you, every time he called you sensitive like it was ridiculous of you to be hurt by his mistreatment, making you feel crazy, you angrily respond: why tf do you care??

Your phone buzzes within a few seconds with his message. Lol calm down

It’s downright incredible how quickly he can piss you off. With that text alone, your blood is boiling.

Calm down. It’s what he always said whenever you brought up a valid reason you were upset. You would be completely collected, but he’d still tell you to calm down. He wanted to frustrate you.

You reply: fuck you. And you want to find him simply to chew him out.

You tell your friends you’ll be right back. You leave before they can ask where you’re going. After all the venting you did about Rafe, about what a toxic asshole he is, you know they’d give you shit for seeking him out.

Rafe’s heart is racing. From the coke, from the booze, from the way that missing you is still such a heavy fucking weight on his chest that isn’t going away.

It’s been weeks and he’s still pissed off about it. Life feels unliveable. When the argument started, he thought it was just going to be another bad night. You had threatened breaking up with each other a million times before. But this time, it was real.

And every time his phone vibrates, he hopes it’s you. He looks at your photos in his camera roll, wallowing in the hole you left in his life. He still has videos of you two fucking and he watches them late at night, touching himself and letting himself pretend you’re still together.

He even puts extra care into getting ready every time he comes to these parties so you’ll think he looks good if you run into him. But you haven’t been going out. At least, not that he’s seen, and he purposely searches every crowd for you.

So, when he saw you in the distance tonight, a sight he’s been dying to see, his heart stopped. And he texted you, pretending he didn’t already know you were here, because it’d be too much of a hit to his pride if he approached you and you brushed him off.

Good thing. Because your response told him what he needs to know.

When you find Rafe in the crowd, he’s knocking back what’s left of a beer. He had told you he was hoping to slow down on the booze back when you were together, but he continued to get shit-faced at every party.

He would disappoint you time and time again, and even now, as your ex-boyfriend, he still manages to do it.

You cross your arms as you approach him. One of his friends notices you, slapping Rafe’s arm to get his attention.

At that moment, you wonder what he told his buddies about you. Probably that you were a crazy bitch. He certainly didn’t have any problem calling you that to your face.

Rafe looks at his friend in confusion. Then, his blue eyes land on you. The same eyes that used to slowly flutter open after you kissed him, as if he was waking up from a good dream. The same eyes that pierced into you when he screamed at you.

“So much for cutting back,” you shout over the music.

Rafe swallows the bitter alcohol and the shock of your sudden presence. He was certain you wouldn’t talk to him tonight.

And of course you look stunning, like an angel that came down from heaven deciding it was worth the sin to torture him.

“Why the fuck do you care?” He’s wearing a self-assured smirk, purposely saying exactly what you said in your text just a few minutes ago.

You roll your eyes, remembering why you came over here in the first place.

“Can I not come to a party without you annoying me?” you mutter.

“You’re the one who came to find me.”

“Because you texted me.”

“So, you’re here to tell me not to text you? What happened to blocking me?”

This is exactly what it was like dating him. Infuriating, petty arguments that only go in circles.

“You didn’t this time, huh?” he adds just to embarrass you.

You had him blocked so many times before, but after the break-up, you just couldn’t do it. Because you had hope he’d reach out. And now he’s making you feel like an idiot for it.

It feels like he’s winning this argument. You shouldn’t care. But you do.

One of the things he said the night of your break-up was that no other guy would deal with your bullshit. So, you decide to lie just to hurt him back.

“I have someone else dealing with my bullshit now,” you say. “Blocking some asshole isn’t a priority.”

Your words have an effect on him. You can tell from the way his jaw tightens. You sink into this feeling all over again, the sick familiarity of playing mind games with him.

Rafe feels his chest twist with anger. Is that where you’ve been lately? Not showing up to parties because you’re with someone else?

He steps closer, ducking his head so that only you can hear his words. His familiar cologne washes over you.

You realize he’s wearing a button-up you bought him and you wonder if he doesn’t remember it was a gift from you, or he does and he doesn’t care to place any sort of sentimental value on it.

“Since when?” he asks.

“Since when what, Rafe?” you say his name with a sharp coldness.

“Since when have you been with someone else?”

You decide to provoke him and let the lie build.

“A while.”

Rafe’s lips thin. He takes your hand and you should pull away, you should want to, but you let him lead you through the crowd into a dark, quieter hallway.

You’re soon against a wall, looking up at him, his eyes darting across your face as the softened music reverberates through the air.

“What’s a while?” he says. “Did it start when we were together?”

You sigh and glance away.

“Don’t look away from me,” he orders. “Answer the fucking question.”

“For the millionth goddamn time, I am not a cheater,” you say. He used to accuse you of unfaithfulness all the time. You meet his angry gaze. “I met him after.”

“Who is he?”

“You don’t know him.”

Rafe plants his hand on the wall next to your head, leaning over, his intensity burning through you.

“I know everybody,” he mutters.

“What, ‘cause you’re so popular?” you scoff.

“You’re lying,” he says. He hopes.

“Sure, whatever, I’m lying,” you reply indifferently with a shrug. “Believe what you want. I’m going now.”

You start to turn, but he boxes you in, his other hand firm on the wall. You knew he’d stop you. It’s why you pretended to leave.

You look up at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown. Your entire body is buzzing.

You miss him. Of course you do. As toxic as you were, as many times as you told yourself this relationship was unhealthy, you miss him.

“Who is he?” he rasps.

“Why?” you say through gritted teeth. “You want to ruin another thing for me?”

“What the fuck have I ruined for you?”

“I lost friends because of you,” you say.

A smile of disbelief grows on Rafe’s face.

He always loved you more. He knows that. And you accused him of isolating you from your friends when all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

It’s not his fault you don’t know how a relationship works. You should want to be with your boyfriend more than your friends. Especially when those friends try to get it in your head that your boyfriend doesn’t deserve you. That you’re too good for him.

What guy wouldn’t want his girl to stop hanging out with friends who just shit-talk him?

“Those weren’t friends,” he says. “What kind of friends want to fuck up your relationship?”

“It was already fucked up,” you respond. “They just helped me see it. But I still cut them off. For you. For nothing.”

Rafe blinks a few times before parting his lips to speak again. Nothing. That’s what he is to you?

His chest aches. He wants to return the favor. He wants to hurt you back.

“You’re so fucking weak,” he says, tapping your temple. You slap him away. “You’ll believe anything.”

It’s a slam to your heart.

“There’s something wrong with you,” you say. “Anyone who can tolerate you for as long as I did is the farthest thing from weak.”

You managed to hit him back just as hard. The way he pauses is a clear sign of it.

“That’s all it was, huh? Tolerating me?” he mutters.

You nod, your breath unsteady.

“Was it tolerating me when I bought you every single fucking thing you wanted?”

“I never asked you to do any of that,” you counter. Your voice has lost its edge. The reminder of how he used to spoil you with gifts and spa days and getaways has cracked your armor a little bit.

“You loved it, though, didn’t you?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “And you loved thanking me for it.”

Your skin pricks with the reminder. The way your lips pressed against his, limbs tangled together in his bed, kissing and fucking and breathing out dirty praise.

He’s thinking of it, too. You can tell because when he brushes up against you, he’s hard. It makes your body go even hotter.

Rafe’s been wondering what you did with all the gifts he got you. His eyes sweep over your body, half-hoping he’ll see a piece of jewelry he bought. But he comes up empty.

He fucking loved it, the way your eyes lit up whenever he got you a gift for no reason. But right now, your eyes are full of hatred.

You still haven’t said anything. Your chest is rising and falling quickly. He struck a chord and he’s going to keep pulling the string.

“Gave you that princess treatment shit, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You said that whenever he bought you anything or did something sweet. It had become a joke between you two. It’s almost unbelievable that the man towering over you right now is capable of doing anything sweet.

“What, you can’t talk now?” Rafe taunts in his typical frustrating way.

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“Yeah?” he laughs. “You said the opposite the last time I saw you.”

You tense up. It’s true. Albeit angrily, you had said you loved him after he accused you of not giving a shit about him during your last argument.

He didn’t say it back. He hardly ever did. He used his body and his credit card to show you his love. It was always a dark cloud that hung over you, the way he couldn’t just say those three words nearly as much as you did.

Even now, he can’t even say the word. He said the opposite. Because he’s so damn emotionally stunted.

You try to regain whatever power you have left.

“Things change,” you respond. “And I’m better off now.”

Rafe leans closer, eyebrows just slightly raising as he stares at you.

His heart is pounding. His legs are weak. He’s panicked that you’ll reject him, but he can’t control the pull you have on him. The fact that you’re walking around and existing and not being with him is agony.

He feigns confidence, his nose gently nudging against yours, his lips less than an inch away now.

“Can he fuck you as good as I can?” he asks. Your core aches with a hard craving for him.

“I just said I’m better off, didn’t I?” you reply.

Rafe’s stomach curls in pain. The thought of another man tasting you, hearing you moan, being inside of you… It actually fucking hurts. You’re his. You’re not supposed to be anybody else’s.

“You need a reminder,” he says tersely, “of how good I make you feel.”

Your breath catches. You’d be stupid to do this. You just bring out the worst in each other. Having sex will undo all the healing you’ve done.

But, because of this sick effect he has on you, you listen to the voice telling you that one last time will be a proper goodbye.

“You’re wasted,” you say. You already felt his hard-on brush against you, but challenging him is too addictive not to do it. “You sure you can even get it up?”

Instead of being pissed off, Rafe does the most attractive thing he possibly can. And it’s infuriating. He smirks, grinding up against you, his hard lust pressed right between your legs.

“When have I ever had a problem with that?” he murmurs.

And finally, finally, he leans forward, pressing his warm lips on yours, and tasting him is like coming home after a trip you never wanted to go on.

You sink into his touch, letting yourself enjoy this temporary high, letting yourself give into the impulse to drag your hands up his hard torso, palms running over the expensive fabric you bought for him.

You tightly cup the sides of his neck. He pushes you by your waist, up against the wall so hard that your back tinges in pain.

This is what this will be. A hard, angry, rough goodbye. One last struggle for power.

You push him off, your lips parting with a smack.

“Find a room,” you order him.

His grip on your wrist is tight as he takes you to a guest room near the back of the house. He shuts the door and pushes you down onto the bed, chest heaving as he looks at you on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching him as he undoes his belt.

You gaze up at him as he breathes heavily, unzipping his pants and letting the buckle fall to the floor with a thud. He palms himself over his boxers, shaking his head at you.

“You can’t take your own damn clothes off?” he mutters.

The fire in you blazes hotter when he leans over you, pulling the button of your jeans out of the loop, zipping down, roughly tugging the waistband down your legs.

Part of the reason you waited for him to do it is because you’re so struck by the way he looks, angry and horny and handsome. But mostly, it’s because if he undresses you, it’s proof of how badly he wants this, how badly he wants you, and you miss that feeling.

Rafe is light-headed simply at the sight of your bare thighs. How can you make him feel like this and not be in his life anymore, just like that?

Once your pants are off, you tug him down to you by his hips, using all your strength to pull yourself up over him.

Rafe could easily withstand you, but he doesn’t want to. This was the best part of your relationship. The battle for control. It’s always been intoxicating.

He’s on his back while you’re propped up on your knees, straddling him, looking down at him, at the way your fingers look splayed on his chest.

He dreamed about seeing you on top of him again. His ex-girlfriend, the only person who’s just as fucked up as he is, the only one who challenges him in such an infuriatingly perfect way. Now, you’re just another person who’s given up on him.

“I know you missed this,” he says with a craven refusal to admit that he missed it himself.

“Feels like you missed it more.” You grind against him, but your middle is hot and wet, and you’re sure he can feel it.

You tug at his shirt, undoing buttons but eventually getting impatient enough to rip apart the last two that remain.

Rafe expels a pissed off tsk. This is his favorite thing you gave him. It’s typical, your recklessness, your refusal to care about the consequences he’s left to live with.

Some of his anger dissipates when you bend to kiss him, your tongue running over his. He grips your ass, fingers dipping under your panties as your kisses grow in roughness, starting to nip at each other’s lips, rushed and hungry.

You pull at the sleeves of his shirt, tugging so he’s left in his boxers only. He pushes your shirt up as you remain bent over him, squeezing your tits over your bra. You hate to give him the satisfaction of your moan, so you keep it in, scrambling to take your shirt off.

His fingers move expertly as he unhooks your bra just like he always did before. You hate that your mind jumps to wondering if he’s taken off any other girl’s clothing lately.

You lied about having a new boyfriend. You know he’s not above lying, either. You wouldn’t dare ask if he’s done this since your break-up. Because it’ll show you care. And because his answer, lie or not, could destroy you.

Your bra is thrown onto the floor and rough hands dip to the backs of your thighs, pushing you so that your chest is right over his face, giving him a chance to put his mouth on you as you hover over him on your hands and knees.

His tongue is hot over your nipple and this time, you can’t stifle your moan. He smirks against you, locking his lips around the peak of your breast, kneading the other, just hard enough to hurt in a good way.

You’re so mad at him for ruining things between you. It’s unfair that someone who knows your body and soul so well is so fucking cruel.

You want to drown your anger in him, in the pleasure you know he can give you. You sit up to take off your panties and shift higher this time so that your knees are pressed against his ears.

You lower and the second you feel his mouth between your legs, you shudder. It’s even better than you remembered.

Rafe looks up at the perfect sight of you sitting over him, eating you out with fast, desperate licks and sucks, tasting you, savoring you.

Your thighs start to lose their strength and you sink slightly, putting more of your weight on his chin, and the groan that escapes from his mouth onto your clit makes you lose all composure.

His hands keep your thighs pinned so you follow his lead, fully sitting on him now, grinding against his mouth. Your fingers lace in his hair, pulling at the roots, every writhe of yours getting harder.

This is a fucking dream come true to him. You’ve done this before, but you’ve never been this rough. You were always afraid to hurt him even during angry sex. This is different.

You roll your hips and the sensation of his nose bumping against your clit sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You’re soaked from your own arousal and his spit, sliding over his mouth.

It’s impossible to hold back your moans now. You let the groans of how good you feel spill out of your throat, mixed with the sounds of his mouth on you and the music blasting from the front of the house.

Rafe’s fingers dig into your thighs, his tongue flattened for you so you can get the pleasure you need. You look down, meeting his eyes while you ride his face, the tension and lust and frustration you share thick in the air.

You slow down, arching your back so he’ll work your clit how you want him to. You don’t even need to tell him. He knows you so damn well, his lips locking around the most sensitive part of your body, sucking and slurping so hard that you start to tremble.

“Just like that,” you whimper. His jaw was starting to get sore, but your praise spurs him to keep going. You adjust your grip on his hair, throwing your head back as his suction grows even harder.

Your thighs press against his cheeks as you start to dissolve into your orgasm. Rafe’s not letting that happen. You’re not getting yours until he gets his.

He pushes your hips up and a frustrated whine tumbles from your mouth. He’s so hard it hurts, roughly guiding you onto your back, the mattress bouncing with how hard he throws you down.

Rafe stares at you with hard eyes as he pulls off his boxers, his cock springing out, holding himself at his base as he guides himself against your entrance.

His exhale is short and sharp as he plunges into you. It feels so damn right to have him inside you, on top of you. The way he sounds, the way he smells. It’s just right.

“You like that?” he mutters, thrusting hard with no build-up to his fast pace.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He revels in the feeling of your heat wrapped around him. Inside you is his favorite place to be. That’s never changed.

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you argue breathily, your body jolting with his thrashes.

“Not when I’m eating you out,” he says. “Not when I’m fucking you.”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you repeat.

He grips your jaw aggressively, fucking you in a frenzy, fingers squeezing your cheeks so hard that your lips jut out into a pout.

“Yes, you fucking do,” Rafe says, panting. “You think you’re so fucking perfect, don’t you?”

“I’m better than you,” you reply.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs. “Fucking insufferable.”

The pressure of him thrusting into you, the way he’s holding you and breathing and groaning, pushes you into a mind-blowing orgasm, your entire body tensing.

You’re in a daze, knowing he’s close by the way his movements are starting to grow sloppier.

“Then why were you with me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can even think about if you should say them.

Rafe’s wet mouth is on yours, tasting like himself and like you, a combination of two people who never should have met. You’re sure that you’d both be better off.

He comes hard, going still on top of you, groaning against your lips. Once he pulls back, his breaths hot on your neck, he finally answers, echoing what you’ve said to him so many times. But this time, you’re the victim of the insult.

“Because there’s something wrong with me,” he says.

Your throat thickens with tears. It’s the truth. And the truth is painful.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you mutter, pushing him off. You promise yourself that tonight is the last time that you’ll ever feel him on top of you, feel him pulling out of you.

You can’t get your clothes on fast enough. Even though this is an old flame, it has the same amount of power to scald you.

“Thought you weren’t a cheater,” he grumbles behind you as you slide on your panties.

“This was a mistake,” you say. “And it’s the last time I’m making it.”

Your words sting. He thought this was make-up sex. That you had a little bit more fight in you for him, and then you’d walk out of this room on his arm. But you really are done.

You pull on your bra next, fingers trembling, knowing you’ll regret it if he hears you cry. You put your shirt on as he remains lying behind you, surely relaxed now that he got what he wanted.

You stand to pull up your jeans, finally meeting his eyes again.

“Why did you even text me?” you mutter. You loathe that a tiny part of you hopes he says it’s because he misses you.

But you’re glad he doesn’t. Because you two just start each other’s fires and douse them in gasoline, burning each other over and over. He simply says, “I wanted to fuck and I knew you’d let me.”

Rafe said it just to hurt you because you called this a mistake. The way you look down as you pretend to focus on buttoning your jeans tells him it worked.

“Don’t text me again,” you say. “Don’t call me. Don’t contact me at all.”

“You scared your new boyfriend’s gonna see?” he says, pretending to be unaffected, pushing past the hurt.

You cross the room and look at him one last time as you turn the door handle. You decide to say the most honest thing you’ve said to him tonight.

“I’m scared I’ll fall for your bullshit again,” you admit. “We’re bad for each other. If there’s any part of you that has a heart, you’ll realize that and you’ll leave me alone.”

For once, Rafe is rendered speechless. He gave you his whole damn heart and for you to insinuate he might not even have one is the last dig he needs to shatter him.

Just like the night this ended in his car, you leave. But you mean it this time.

Because something that was actually meant to be would not hurt this much.

(part two)

inspired by this ask and this ask by @diorjadore

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

643 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 9 months

Text

Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

2K notes · View notes

inadaydream99 · 1 month

Text

Idiotically in Love Stray Kids

A/N - I just couldn’t help but think about the little things that they would do or the way they may act when being so in love with someone…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. Anything I’ve missed, please let me know!

Idiotically in love Chan who…

Confessed to you by accident because his jealousy got the better of him. He couldn’t stand seeing you get hit on by another guy and you clearly weren’t enjoying it. But he was controlling himself because you’re an adult and can handle your own situations… until the guy started getting a bit too close for comfort. Chan had stormed over and scooped you into his arms before either of you could register what was happening. Leaning down, he whispered into your ear to trust him, waiting for you to nod your agreement before crashing his lips into yours. Let’s just say that the guy was long gone by the time you broke the kiss for air.

Pulls you into a secluded corner of the room so he can hold you just like he has been dying to do all night. It’d been torture watching you from afar and all he has wanted to do is get away from everyone so he can spend time with you.

Calls you at 2am when he’s stressed with work and everything seems to be going wrong. But just hearing your voice on the other end, softly distracting him with how your day went or what you both want to do on your next date night helps his tense shoulders to slump and his mind to finally simmer down.

Pats his lap and tells you to sit down. He’s got the most sheepish look on his face as your attention turns to him. Instinctively, he sinks back further into the sofa behind him and opens his arms wide for you to cuddle into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as a reward of doing as he asked.

Always walks on the outside of the sidewalk when he’s with you. And - if for any reason - he finds that you’re somehow on the side closest to the cars, he will take you by the wrist and manoeuvre you to the other side.

Idiotically in love Minho who…

Just loves to call you kitty. Be it affectionately or sarcastically. He mostly just uses the name because he likes the way your cheeks turn the tiniest bit pink upon hearing it roll off his tongue. “I didn’t realise you were such a bad kitty.” “Aw kitty come here.”

Gets excited to have you in his arms but will rarely admit it. He just loves the way you snuggle into him, fitting so perfectly against his chest and acting like a human hot water bottle to keep him warm.

Can’t remember how or why the unspoken rules between you came to be, but it would feel wrong not to do them when given the chance. Like the unspoken rule of Minho always kissing your nose before you fall asleep, or how you instinctively hold his hand while crossing the road because you know he stresses when it’s busy. His favourite is whenever you hug him, you never complain about his hands grabbing your butt and if you have back pockets then he’s definitely putting his hands inside and keeping them there so you can’t pull away.

Calls you an idiot all the time but you both know that really stands for “I love you.” It started because of a silly little argument you were having. He was purposefully refusing to say I love you back to you and it was pissing you off. In the end, after you’d given him the silent treatment, he’d approached you with “you know you’re an idiot, of course I love you.”

Never believed in love at first sight until he saw you. It’s like his whole world was flipped upside down and he knew right there and then that you were going to be a huge part of his life.

Idiotically in love Changbin who…

Didn’t realise he’d fallen for you until he’d had a dream about kissing you. He woke up shook becuase… where did that come from??? But then it became all he could think about. Little by little, it dawned on him how much the two of you already acted like a couple just without the title. And that’s actually how he chose to confess to you. By telling people exactly that when they asked but by adding a “yet…” onto the end and smirking at you.

Loves to sneak up behind you while you’re preoccupied to cage you in a back hug. Resting his chin on your shoulder, his strong arms holding you so tenderly.

Calls you just to hear your voice. He loves the light rasp it has when he calls you first thing in the morning, still laced with sleep and your brain clearly a little foggy.

Always looks at you after doing something funny to see your reaction. He lives to make you smile and laugh and so, especially when in a group of people, Changbin will instantly find you amongst the group to make sure you found him funny. Yours is the only reaction he cares about and it warms his heart to see you so elated because of him.

Can’t help but to use cheesy pick up lines on you at least once a day. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, Changbin just loves to flirt with you.

Idiotically in love Hyunjin who…

Fell in love with you without realising. Really, Minho should take credit for your relationship happening becuase it was his no-nonsense talking that made Hyunjin finally realise how he felt about you. After all, everyone except Hyunjin could see that he was in love with you, from the way he always wanted to partner with you when needing a buddy and then insisting that holding hands is the number one rule of the buddy system, to moping around like crazy when the group had to go away on schedules and he wouldn’t be able to see you for however long (apparently one time he wouldn’t stop saying things like “y/n wouldn’t have made me do this…” or “y/n would have shared with me…”)

Longingly looks for you in the crowded room because he can’t stand all the people he’s having to speak with just to be socially polite. All he wants is to escape with you to somewhere where he can be himself.

Adores the inside jokes that crack both of you up with a single knowing look but no one else understands. Your minds are just wired the same way, and so you find all the silliest, most random things hilarious.

Calls you his pretty mess becuase your hair is always like a birds nest when you wake up in the mornings. The first time you’d stayed overnight at his and woke to him teasing you about your bed head you were mortified. But, in truth, Hyunjin found it so adorable. He loves that you are both real in your relationship and don’t try to upkeep a perfect image around each other.

Does this thing where he tilts your chin up to look at him so your eyes lock into a deep gaze. It’s so intense that you forget how to breathe, mouth falling agape as he continues to slowly inch your faces closer together. Always stops when your lips are ghosting, waiting for the little whine of impatience you make before finally kissing you like your lives depend on it.

Idiotically in love Jisung who…

Realised he was in love with you when one of your mutual friends had confided in him about their feelings for you. It was the burning jealousy ignited inside of Jisung from just the thought of you being with someone other than him that made him think… hang on a minute, they’re mine.

Confessed to you by calling you first thing the next morning and asking to meet him for breakfast. When you said that you could he immediately responded with “it’s a date.” And then when on said breakfast date, he’d come clean about your mutual friends feelings towards you and how he’d respect your choice either way, but that he just had to let you know how he feels too. It’s safe to say he was surprised when you’d leaned over to him and shyly given him a peck on the lips as your answer.

Hasn’t seen you all day and all he wants is to kiss you. He doesn’t care who’s around or if you’re meant to be somewhere else. He wants - no needs - to make up for lost time.

Can’t get you out of his head. It’s like everything makes him think of you. He walks past a stall selling flowers and remembers your favourite. Or he is in a different country and sees an old couple walking hand in hand and thinks about how one day that will be the both of you.

Is always there for you no matter what. He’s a blabber mouth with most things but when it comes to you, if you asked him to keep something between the two of you, he would take it to the grave. His priority is making sure you know you can tell him anything and that he would do everything in his power to keep you safe and loved.

Idiotically in love Felix who…

Lost his phone and his first panicked thought was not being able to contact you.

Always asks about your day, every day without fail. He loves to know that you’ve eaten properly, slept well or done something productive/ social when he’s not been around.

Realised that the need for him to know you were always happy and safe was because he had fallen for you. It had happened so seamlessly that he hadn’t noticed until the possibility of you not being around so much made him feel less motivated.

Confessed to you by asking if it would be weird if he kissed you. Which was probably the most endearing thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life. Of course, you didn’t hesitate in telling him that, yes, he could kiss you. And Felix is so glad he did because wow, nothing had ever felt more right to him than the feeling of his lips on yours.

Realises now that he’d been such a fool all of those times he’d denied the two of you being a couple when asked by others if you’re dating because now he can see that the way you look at him is the same head-over-heels in love expression that he looks at you with.

Idiotically in love Seungmin who…

Randomly decides to mess with your head one day. He seemingly suddenly switches from spitting sarcastic retorts at everything you say to sending you heart eyes every-time you look at him. It’s suspicious.

Had always assumed that the strong way he felt about you was not being able to stand you. Like how he couldn’t stand how you always seemed to draw everyone in, like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds after a long storm. But soon, he realised that he couldn’t stand being away from you. Like he needed your light to illuminate his dark mind and make him feel at ease.

Silently listens to things you say, storing them away for when he may need them and remembering little things about you that you don’t ever remember mentioning to him.

Plays with your hair subconsciously. It’s usually when you’re cuddling and he’s zoned out. With your head on his chest, it’s impossible for his fingers to not thread through your soft hair. It lulls you to sleep every time so when Seungmin does finally blink back into the real word he’s met with the angelic picture of his love resting against him.

Mocks the size of you. Any possible part of you that is smaller than him and he’s making a cheeky comment about how tiny you are. He gets a kick out of reminding you that you’re small and need him to help and protect you.

Idiotically in love Jeongin who…

Cannot bear to be apart from you anymore. Sod however scary it may be to confess his feelings to you. He has to let you know that there is no other way for him to live other than by loving you wholeheartedly.

Calls you dude or bro romantically. Just the thought of any sickly-sweet pet name makes him internally (and sometimes externally) cringe. Maybe it’s slight ptsd from his friend’s adoration towards him. But then you’re out and about and he can’t ignore the need to hold your hand. So, to get your attention, he calls you “dude.” before signalling for you to hold his hand.

Always gives you his hoodie to wear. It’s like the sight of you in his clothes, smelling of his cologne and scrunching up the cuffs into your palms to make little sweater paws makes him melt.

Carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep elsewhere. Like that one time Jeongin found you hunched over your open laptop, fast sleep in the early hours of the morning. Yes, he was annoyed that you’d stayed up so late working. But then again, he had also only just gotten back from practice and so wasn’t really in a much better position himself. Although, he will still nag you the next morning about the importance of self care.

Thought to himself “yeah, I’m screwed” when he met your meek smile from across the room and all he wanted was to rush over to you and envelop you in his arms to protect you from the world. At that moment in time, you had only known each other for about a week, but Jeongin just knew that you were going to be a very important part of his life.

287 notes · View notes