#it's a hell of a year to go back to the start | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvergirl-535 · 15 hours ago

Text

meet cute, but, like, wayyy worse

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 8.3k

c/w - smut (iktr), paige is a loser in the streets and a freak in the sheets (lol), horrifically unedited to the point where idek if it’s legible so bear w me 🥀

a/n - writing this made me realize i’ve literally forgotten how to write smut 😔 bc why’d i keep trying to make it funny. i’m actually a little concerned that ive been doing too much unserious stuff i won’t be able to go back to normal writing anymore lmao maybe i’m the problem…

paige has had an absolute shitshow of a night. actually, scratch that—the entire year has been a shitshow. maybe even the past two years. she doesn’t like to dwell on it.

she hates the way her friends look at her these days, with cautious smiles and sympathetic eyes, like all they ever do anymore is feel bad for her. she hates the way they speak to her when she starts drinking, like she’s an unpredictable, wild thing. like they’re afraid of what she’s doing to herself.

honestly, she’s fine. they just don’t get it. the fame, the work, it’s a lot. she’s in shape. her basketball has never been better. she’s bringing girls home every night.

it’s not like she’s addicted to coke or anything. since when is it a crime to need a few beers every now and then?

(it’s every night. and some mornings, too.)

(she finds herself forgetting—birthdays, anniversaries, names—more than ever.)

(she used to fucking hate alcohol.)

(she is a little afraid of herself, too.)

anyway.

the cruise has been fun. a team-bonding experience, meant to build their chemistry off the court, to take their minds off the upcoming season for a little while. a week of relaxation. a week to destress. for paige, it’s been hard. she cannot justify sneaking off to day drink to her teammates, and they’ve been steering clear of alcohol like their lives depend on it. she only gets to drink at night, after the rest of the girls have gotten too drunk to care about what she does. the rest of the time, she’s forced to be painfully sober.

it all goes from ‘difficult’ to ‘burning gates of hell’ when she throws up on the love of her life—who does not know she’s the love of paige’s life—azzi fudd. an angel on earth, the most beautiful girl paige has ever seen. like, better than zendaya. for real.

after that, she wants nothing more than to jump off ship and be lost at sea forever. when kk offers to take azzi back to paige’s room, she swears she could kill her.

and then, almost consecutively: her stupid little crush is exposed, she’s forced to cut a dress off azzi’s body, and then—this.

her first thought, after the phone call, is mental image of her fist pumping, because, duh. and then comes the, oh my god, i get to fuck azzi fudd, followed by a brief moment of panic, followed then by the realization that of course she is not going to fuck azzi tonight. or ever.

she is both relieved and disappointed by this knowledge.

“i’m…” azzi says, staring at her phone as if she could magically make chad call her back again. paige expects something, like maybe an explanation on why the fuck she’s telling her ex-boyfriend they are going to fuck tonight, but instead, azzi just tosses the phone onto the bed as if she’s been burned and says, “i’m going to change.”

paige has half a mind to leap in front of the door and barricade azzi in the room with her until she gets an explanation. she doesn’t, because she can barely act like a normal person around azzi, let alone confront her like that.

azzi disappears into the restroom. paige sits. and waits—not so patiently.

she pulls at a fray in the comforter until it comes loose. taps her foot against the bedframe. thinks about how azzi’s voice changed on the call—quieter, but not exactly embarrassed. maybe satisfied? there was something in it that didn’t sound like regret. that’s the part that’s screwing with her the most.

she gets up from the bed to pace, the back-and-forth a feeble attempt at wrapping her mind around what just happened. when that doesn’t work, she drops to the floor and does some sit-ups, because when she was a kid her dad told her if she let the anxiety build in her body she’d explode and that the only way to get rid of it was to do sit-ups. he’s a bitch for that, but she’s also spent a lifetime with nice abs, so she can’t really be too mad. but not even the magical sit-ups really work, so she does the last thing she can think of:

she pounds on the bathroom door.

“jesus!” azzi’s voice is high-pitched, nervous. “you tryna knock the door down?”

“uh, no,” paige says, a little unsure of what she’s going to say now that she’s here. “you’ve just been in there for awhile so…”

“don’t worry about it.”

oh, she’s worried. though not particularly about azzi. “can you just come out?”

“why?”

at this point, azzi is just playing in her face. because what does she mean, ‘why?’. is it not a normal thing to come out of the bathroom once you’re done?

the most alarming thing about all this is that paige has yet to question her undying crush, even as azzi is turning out to be a possible psycho. actually, even worse—it might be turning paige on?

now she is doubly worried. perhaps she should focus on one thing at a time.

paige’s silence must have stretched long enough to spark concern, because azzi speaks again, a hesitant, “paige?”

paige sighs, a hand on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose, a pose she might have adopted from her coach. “you know you owe me an explanation, azzi.”

another sigh, as equally annoyed as paige’s, from the other side of the door. and then, its opening, and azzi’s standing there in paige’s clothes, looking altogether too soft and sweet for the diabolical things she did ten minutes prior. “i know, i just…i don’t really have one.”

paige’s eyes flick down azzi’s body without permission. the loose uconn t-shirt hangs too long on her—paige knows that shirt, it’s the one she used to let her ex borrow. something about azzi in it makes her stomach twist. not in a bad way. in the worst possible way.

paige steps back, allowing azzi back into the bedroom. “you mean you don’t have an explanation for telling your boyfriend we’d…” paige isn’t usually shy about sex, she’s a grown adult, for god’s sake, but this is azzi fudd and she can’t really find her words in normal conversation, and certainly not this one, “you know…” she trails off awkwardly.

azzi bites her lip, half-sheepish, half-trying to charm her way out of it. and, yeah, maybe it’s working a little.

paige realizes with a little bit of a start that she’s staring at azzi’s lips. she glances up and away quickly, turning around to give herself something to do before motioning to the phone on the bed. “you should…call him back.”

“hell no,” azzi sneers.

“well it’s either that or we fuck,” paige retorts before she can think. she’s glad she’s faced away so azzi can’t see the way blood flushes her cheeks.

azzi’s silent for a moment. almost long enough that paige turns around, but then she speaks. “maybe there’s another option,” she says.

paige senses trouble.

��❀❀

kk’s jaw is on the floor.

she looks between a guilty-looking azzi and a tomato-red paige before letting out a shocked laugh. “now why would you tell him that?”

kk asking all the most important questions.

“it was the first thing that came to mind!” azzi says, voice high and defensive. paige can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“why, though?” kk asks, a small, suspect grin spreading over her face.

azzi gives her a look, something that clearly says cut it out, and paige doesn’t doubt that kk spilled all the beans about her crush to azzi earlier.

“uh-huh,” kk responds, making a small ‘mcht’ sound.

azzi gives that warning look again. “shut up, kk.”

“that isn’t even the main thing,” paige points out, jumping between their tense interaction. “what we came to tell you is azzi had an idea.” an outlandish, admittedly odd one, but an idea nonetheless.

“an idea,” kk repeats.

azzi nods. she’s hesitant, clearly, but paige has already assured her kk will be on board. she’ll laugh in their faces first, sure, but then she will help them go through with azzi’s little…plan.

“okay,” she says doubtfully. “tell me this lil’ idea.”

azzi glances nervously at paige. “well, i can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right,” she explains.

kk nods. “obviously.”

“and i can’t go back to my room tonight.”

“okay…”

“so i’m going to stay here,” she continues, taking a deep breath as in gathering courage for the teasing about to come. “and i’m going to take…suggestive pictures with paige, in paige’s bed. and we’re just hoping you can help.”

before azzi’s finished, kk’s eyebrows have already raised to her hairline. she lets out a half-shocked, half-ifuckingknewit scoff. it’s enough to have paige jumping in to try and make it look better. “her boyfriend’s really an ass, kk, like, she needs to get him back.”

azzi nods. “paige heard him on the phone. she knows.”

“i know,” paige agrees.

kk looks between the two of them, both so earnest and oh-so oblivious, and just laughs. “i believe you. oh, i believe you.”

“so are you going to help us?” azzi asks.

“help with what, exactly? do i need to ref? do i need to make sure it stays pg in there?”

paige immediately blushes, squeaking an awkward “what? no!” before azzi can even react. when she does, it’s a much more nonchalant, normal person answer: “don’t be weird, kk. answer the question.”

kk gives paige a pointed look. “for the record, this is stupud. y’all are stupid. and i don’t condone such behavior.”

“oh, shut up, kk,” paige says.

“but i will help,” kk finishes, getting up from her kitchen stool. “i’ll make sure y’all look as, what’d you say? suggestive, as possible,” she grins.

azzi, bravely, doesn’t so much as redden. “cool. thanks.”

“what friends are for,” kk replies easily. she walks toward them, slinging an arm around both their shoulders and pulling their heads close. “and after tonight, we are definitely friends,” she tells azzi.

“except on the court,” azzi points out.

“unless you come to uconn.”

“you tryna recruit me? to a team that always loses against us?” azzi laughs, pushing away. “you’re funny.”

“trust, we wouldn’t lose with you on our team,” kk says.

paige rolls her eyes. “can we just get this over with?”

“aight, cranky pants. let’s get it.” kk motions toward the bedroom. “go start taking y’all’s clothes off. i’ll get the camera ready.”

“oh, brother,” azzi sighs, at the same time paige mutters, “worst fuckin’ idea,” under her breath.

❀❀❀

azzi looks—fucked out, to be perfectly honest. more specifically, like a scene straight from one of paige’s many azzi-centered wet dreams. not that she has azzi-centered wet dreams or anything. but if she did, like hypothetically, azzi would look exactly like this.

lips plumped with oil. braids pulled back messily. mascara re-applied and then carefully smeared. she studies herself in the mirror as she adds the final touch: a dark bruise above her collarbone, created with deft fingers and dark blush courtesy of kk. paige sits on the toilet seat, watching azzi work. she’s been staring for the past thirty minutes. azzi has yet to notice. kk, on the other hand, has spent the entire time sending her not-so-subtle signals, such as disguising a ‘talktoher’ with a cough, and whispering ‘go offer to do that for her,’ when azzi started applying the hickeys.

paige has not taken this advice. she’s still a little tipsy and azzi looks too enticing and she’s awkward enough that she’d much rather observe than try to interact at the moment.

before azzi finishes applying the final fake hickey, kk is fiddling with angles, mumbling about “golden hour lighting” even though they’re inside and it’s past midnight. paige’s gaze is caught in the mirror—not on herself, but the reflection of azzi in front of her. she imagines reaching over. just touching azzi’s wrist. she doesn’t. she clenches her hands together in her lap instead.

“you know,” azzi says idly, still dabbing at her collarbone, “you’re not nervous enough.”

paige blinks. “about what?”

“pretending to fuck me. in pictures. that we’re going to send to a real person.” azzi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s something layered beneath it.

“what, you want me to panic?”

“a little. would make me feel better.”

paige laughs—quiet and dry. “i’m panicking plenty. just…internally.”

“uh-huh.” azzi licks her thumb before dabbing at her neck, turning her chin this way and that in the mirror. “do i look good?”

“you look bad,” kk says, nodding appreciatively. “as hell.”

azzi smiles a little shyly. “thanks.”

she knows it’s stupid, but a pang of jealously hits paige. she wishes she had kk’s natural instinct to flirt with girls. and it’s true paige has this instinct sometimes, but with a girl she really likes? with azzi fucking fudd? it’s best for everyone if she just keeps quiet and lets kk charm her instead. after this whole thing, she’ll go back to her indulgent bedtime fantasies of she and azzi in domestic situations and wet dreams.

“okay,” azzi says, pulling her phone out of her pocket and snapping a quick selfie in the mirror before turning to the two of them. “we ready?”

“i been practicing my photography skills,” kk says (she got a new camera app last week and has been taking candid, objectively bad photos of the team ever since). “never been readier.”

“don’t think that’s a word,” azzi points out, then looks at paige. “paige?”

“yup,” paige says, slapping her thighs before standing up in an attempt to get rid of the chalant written all over her face right now. “super ready.”

“now why you sound all excited to cozy up in bed with fudd?” kk quips. paige gets warm all over, glancing furtively at azzi to see her reaction—seriously, kk’s going to make azzi think paige is weird or something—but she just gives a little laugh before leading the way into the bedroom. “okay, let’s do this then.”

paige is maybe beginning to reconsider the this in question—their great plan. nothing’s even been done yet, for god’s sakes, with phase one—making azzi look as fucked out as possible—barely being finished. yet still paige is already uncomfortably damp between her legs: hence, the reconsidering. but, lord save her, azzi is already crawling into paige’s bed much too seductively, and it would look downright suspicious of her to pussy out now. no, she’s going to go through with this faux-sex photoshoot like a man, goddamit.

“get in there, twin,” kk says, pulling her phone out from her back pocket.

paige gingerly sits on the edge of the bed while azzi lays back, propped up on her elbows as they watch kk navigate around the device. “you know,” azzi says, “i wasn’t thinking you’d actually take the pictures for us. i thought you’d just, like, tell us what looks good.”

paige is a little surprised to hear this, and at the offended expression on kk’s face, she panics—her friend has a liking for dramatic storm-outs, and paige cannot have her leaving right now. “but this works too,” she jumps in, shooting azzi a warning look. “right?”

azzi places her palms upright, surrendering. “i mean, yeah, i guess. i was just sayin’.”

“well i ain’t here to be a third opinion or nothing,” kk says haughtily.

“you’re not,” paige says quickly. “you’re our creative director.”

“yeah,” azzi adds, already settling deeper into the pillows like this is just another thursday night. “we trust your vision.”

kk narrows her eyes at them like she’s sniffing out sarcasm, but apparently decides she accepts it. “creative director,” she repeats, pleased. “i like that. okay. azzi, scoot a little more to the left. paige, behind her. lean in like you just got done doing something y’all shouldn’t have been doing.”

“we haven’t even started yet,” paige mutters.

“don’t kill the vibe,” kk says. she gestures wildly. “go on. get close. more. closer.”

paige shifts behind azzi on the bed, legs folding automatically. azzi leans back slightly to rest against her, and the contact sends a shock through her skin like she’s short-circuiting. this is fine. totally fine. normal behavior for two near-strangers in a definitely-not-suggestive photoshoot.

“hand on her waist,” kk calls, adjusting her phone. “and azzi, tilt your head back, like you’re worn out.”

paige’s hand finds azzi’s hip, fingers splaying across the soft cotton of her borrowed t-shirt. azzi does as told, and for a second paige’s vision blurs. the curve of her neck, the flushed heat of her skin from alcohol or earlier makeup efforts—it’s all a little too real.

“jesus,” kk mutters, half to herself. “this looks…kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

paige groans. “can we not—comment on that?”

“okay, okay,” kk says, still snapping. “let’s switch it up. azzi, crawl into her lap. yeah, like that. lean back a little, like you’re laughing at something she said. paige, smile. not like you’re being tortured.”

“so, you are taking the pictures for us, then?”

“i’m close enough he won’t be able to tell it was taken by someone else,” kk huffs. “now, go. c’mon.”

“i’m not a model,” paige mutters, but she does her best to grin.

azzi wiggles into place, her thigh slotting between paige’s legs. “sorry,” she whispers.

“don’t apologize,” paige says automatically, which is a mistake, because then azzi looks at her, and they’re way too close for that.

“aaaand pause,” kk says, not looking up from the phone. “i think i need y’all to look a little messier. paige, mess up your hair. azzi, can you tug the shirt off your shoulder a little? you look too put together.”

paige drags a hand through her hair, trying not to stare as azzi obliges, the shirt slipping just enough to expose the faux-hickey she’d applied earlier. kk catches it in the next snap and lets out a sharp whistle.

“he’s gonna cry when he sees these,” she says gleefully.

azzi’s lips twitch. “that’s the goal.”

more posing. more directions. at some point paige gets bolder, draping an arm around azzi’s stomach. azzi leans back into her without hesitation, as if it’s natural, like they do this every day.

kk crouches to get a shot from below and then pauses, frowning at her screen. “hold up,” she says. “jana’s calling. gimme a sec.”

she stands and walks out, phone already at her ear, voice lowering as she steps into the other room.

the silence she leaves behind is heavy.

paige shifts slightly. azzi doesn’t move off her lap.

“so…” paige starts, voice low. “this is probably the weirdest way i’ve ever spent a night.”

azzi chuckles softly. “same. but kind of… weirdly fun?”

“yeah,” paige admits. “yeah, it kinda is.”

they lapse into another pause. paige thinks she should move, but azzi hasn’t, and she’s scared that if she does, she’ll mess up whatever weird little truce they’re holding onto.

“hey,” azzi says suddenly, voice softer now. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“do you hang out with your team very often?” she asks. “because, i mean, i see y’all on tv and at social events and stuff but—i dunno. you’re never in any of their tiktoks or anything.” azzi winces. “not that i’ve been paying attention.”

paige stiffens slightly. “uh. i dunno. just—trying to focus. this year’s important.”

“yeah,” azzi says quietly. “it is.”

azzi looks down, to gather her thoughts, maybe, and seems to realize that she’s still on top of paige because her breath hitches and then she moves, rolling off so she’s sitting beside her. “sorry,” she murmurs.

“you’re good.”

the quiet stretches again, heavier this time.

“truth?” paige says suddenly.

azzi turns toward her a little more, her thigh still between paige’s, their knees brushing. “truth.”

“i’ve been drinking too much,” paige blurts. “i’m not like an alcoholic or anything,” she’s quick to defend, because alcoholism is for deadbeat dads and stuff, right? not for celebrity college athletes. “it just, lately, it got kind of bad, and people started noticing, and it’s hard to be around them now. they all look at me like they think i’m gonna…i dunno. fall apart or something.”

azzi’s eyes soften. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i mean—it’s not,” paige shrugs. “but it’s…i had this breakup a few months ago. really bad. i thought it was going to be forever, you know? and when it wasn’t, i guess, and it was kinda my fault, and i—the team took me to parties, to get my mind off it. i learned pretty quick that drinking helped me forget. and now, i mean, i’m mostly over it, i guess, but it helps with other things, too. like when i’m stressed about an exam, or worried for a game, or something. it helps.”

she stares off into space, then catches herself, glancing over at azzi, who’s staring her with an imperceptible look on her face. “damn, my bad. didn’t mean to overshare with a stranger like that.”

“you’re not a stranger,” azzi says, her voice quiet. “not to me.”

paige blinks. “i didn’t think you knew anything about me.”

“i do,” azzi says. “we’re not close, but…i’ve kept up with you, since usa. i’m a people-watcher. very perceptive.” she elbows paige, raising a smug, teasing eyebrow. “and i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

paige exhales, glad for the mood lightener. “oh yeah? and who am i?”

“you’re…a twenty-two year old college student,” azzi starts.

paige laughs. “wow, super perceptive. how’d you figure that one out?”

“shut up, smart-ass, i’m not finished,” azzi snips, and paige is almost surprised at the sass, at the teasing that she herself loves so much. “lemme continue. i think you’re someone who likes to think you’ve got your life together. you walk around like you’re so sure of everything, like your whole future is planned out, and you know it’s all gonna end well for you. so you act like you don’t worry, like you don’t…care.”

paige raises an eyebrow. “but…?”

“but,” azzi says, “you’re a twenty-two year old college student. of course you don’t have your life figured out. you get stressed out trying to decide what you’re gonna eat for your next meal. your shoulders are constantly tense. you’re always wringing your hands before games, did you know that? during time-outs, too.”

paige looks over, startled, to find azzi looking just as surprised. “you watch me play?”

azzi fumbles for something. “i’m a basketball player. you didn’t expect me to watch basketball?”

“i didn’t expect you to watch me,” paige says.

azzi opens her mouth. closes it. looks away, at the wall ahead. “i guess i didn’t realize i was doing it.”

paige doesn’t know what to say to that. she feels seen and it’s terrifying.

“truth?” azzi says after a moment.

“truth.”

“chad’s been cheating on me,” she says. “i haven’t caught him, but i know. it’s been obvious for weeks.”

paige looks at her, waiting.

“and he’s mean,” azzi continues. “not, like…evil. just sharp. cold. the kind of mean that makes you feel stupid for crying or asking to be treated better. tonight was just—my last straw, i think. i didn’t want to go back to that room and feel like shit again. so i came here.”

“you didn’t have to come with us,” paige says. “i would’ve just, like, venmoed you for the shoes.”

azzi meets her eyes. “i think…i think i wanted to come here.”

paige’s breath catches.

before she can figure out what that means—what to say—kk’s voice cuts in from the hall. “yo! i gotta bounce for a sec, emergency meeting. jana’s constipated for real, imma bring over some laxatives. i’ll be back in like twenty.”

they hear the cabin door open and then click shut.

“you think we should keep going?” azzi asks after a beat.

paige nods, voice suddenly thick. “yeah. okay.”

wordlessly, they rearrange, moving closer. azzi sits with her knees up now, leaning into paige’s shoulder, one hand splayed across her thigh.

they take a few selfies this time. azzi guides her hand behind the camera, adjusting the angle to catch just enough skin, just enough closeness. their shoulders press. their cheeks touch. at some point, paige’s hand finds azzi’s knee, and azzi doesn’t move it.

by the time kk returns, azzi is in paige’s lap again, one hand hooked around the back of her neck.

kk pauses in the doorway. “well damn.”

“we figured we’d keep going,” paige says, eyes wide.

“uh-huh,” kk says knowingly. “y’all definitely got the shots now.”

she walks around, checking a few pictures. “these are good. like…y’all could win a grammy for best fake situationship or something.”

paige laughs, a little too loudly. “we just wanted to sell it.”

“mission accomplished.” kk pockets her phone. “i’ll edit mine and get them to you, azzi.”

“thanks,” azzi says. “seriously. for everything.”

kk just grins. “get some sleep, y’all. and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”

when she’s gone, paige and azzi look at each other.

“that was—” paige starts.

“insane,” azzi finishes.

they laugh, even though nothing’s really funny.

❀❀❀

the clock on the stove reads 4:36 a.m. the suite is dark and quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. paige is sitting at the counter, a half-empty glass of water in her hand, the condensation dripping slowly down to form a ring beneath it.

she can’t sleep. her skin’s still buzzing, brain too full. not from alcohol—for once—but from azzi. from the way her voice had gone soft. from the weight of her in paige’s lap. from the echo of that not-quite-confession: i think i wanted to come here.

the room creaks. faint footsteps pad across the floor.

paige looks up.

azzi appears in the doorway, her braids wrapped in kk’s spare bonnet, bundled in one of paige’s old huskies sweatshirts that’s big enough to swallow her whole. she looks warm. sleepy. somehow both tentative and certain.

“couldn’t sleep,” azzi says, voice scratchy.

paige offers a quiet smile. “same.”

azzi shuffles forward, hugging her arms around herself. “can i hang with you?”

“uh-huh.”

azzi climbs onto the stool next to her. their knees knock under the counter and neither moves to pull away. azzi steals a sip from paige’s water without asking, and something about that—something about the easy familiarity of it—sends a warm, unsteady ache through paige’s chest.

they sit in silence for a while. the kind of silence that settles between people who are too tired to lie but too uncertain to speak first.

finally, azzi says, “i didn’t think today would end like this.”

paige snorts quietly. “me either.”

“i thought i’d be crying to some emo playlist and wondering why i ever trusted him.”

“and i thought i’d be drinking alone in my room, again,” paige admits. “so…silver linings, i guess?”

azzi turns slightly to look at her, and the light from the fridge reflects in her eyes, soft and shimmering. “i meant what i said earlier. about wanting to come here.”

paige looks at her. “yeah?”

azzi nods, then smiles softly to herself. “it’s been a lot of fun, despite…everything.” she gestures at their surroundings. “i don’t think i’ve laughed like that in months, to be honest.”

“i don’t think i’ve felt…wanted like that in months,” paige says, quieter now, fully aware that what she’s saying is pathetic and induced by the last dregs of alcohol in her system. “even if it was fake.”

azzi’s voice is even softer. “it didn’t feel fake.”

that—that does it.

paige’s breath catches, heart thudding loud in her chest. she glances at azzi, who’s already looking at her, mouth parted, gaze open in a way that makes something deep inside paige tremble.

“can i—?” paige starts, voice hoarse.

“yes,” azzi breathes.

paige leans in slowly, giving azzi every chance to pull away. but she doesn’t. she leans in too, and when their lips meet, it’s soft. hesitant. careful, like they’re both afraid of shattering something delicate.

azzi’s hand finds paige’s hoodie, clutching at the fabric. paige cups her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye. the kiss deepens in quiet pulses, not rushed, but heavy with the weight of something new.

when they finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, paige whispers, “sorry. i didn’t—i wasn’t trying to make this weird.”

“it’s not weird,” azzi says, eyes still closed. “it’s…good. i think it’s really good.”

they sit like that for a long beat, breathing the same air.

then azzi whispers, “can i stay with you? i just…don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige nods immediately. “yeah. of course.”

azzi takes her hand. her fingers are cold, but her grip is sure.

they walk quietly through the dark apartment. it’s a short walk, but it feels like it takes years. the lights are all off, but paige’s room glows faintly with the soft blue light of the tv she’d left on, a 2000s sitcom playing on mute.

paige opens the door and lets azzi step inside first. she watches her for a second, silhouetted against the light—still in the oversized hoodie, bare legs, face bare and soft. she’s never looked more unreal.

paige swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears.

azzi turns to face her. “you coming?”

paige steps in and closes the door behind her. something buzzes under her skin, in both a turned-on way and a bug-crawly way.

it’s dawning on her, now, with azzi standing there giving her bedroom eyes in her bedroom—she just kissed azzi fudd. she threw up on her then proceeded to be incredibly awkward for the entire tonight before trauma-dumping and has now pulled her.

azzi fudd. the fucking—love of her life. the celebrity crush of her goddamn dreams. is standing before her like some kind of bisexual goddess waiting to receive the best head of her life. and oh, will paige make sure it actually is the best head of her life. much better than chad’s, that’s for certain. if he even gave her head. he seems the type of guy to say it’s ’too gross’.

“paige?”

oh god. she’s been staring.

“hey,” azzi frowns, stepping towards her. “you okay? i can leave, or…”

“no,” paige says vehemently, also stepping forward, closing the gap between them. she wants to reach out, to pull azzi in, but she’s not sure if that’s what azzi really wants. maybe she just wants to sleep? not that paige isn’t down for snuggling, but she’s already hyped herself up for that whole head thing, and she’s not super willing to back down now. “i just…”

azzi looks at her, eyes searching her face before she looks down. her lips quirk up, and when she looks back at paige, she’s clearly amused. “i clocked you so hard earlier.”

“i…what?” paige asks.

azzi points. “your hands.”

paige looks down, and sure enough—she’s wringing her hands. like a nervous little wimp. she scoffs, pulling them apart and wiping them on her sweats before making a split-second decision, pulling azzi in by the waist. “you didn’t clock shit.”

“no?” azzi asks, smile growing a little. her hands are soft as they roam up paige’s arms before circling around the back of her neck. “so you’re not super nervous right now?”

“i’m not nervous,” paige is quick to correct. “just wondering what you want.”

azzi’s eyebrows rise, just a little. “oh?”

paige hadn’t really meant to say it, but what the hell. “uh-huh. you wanna tell me?”

“hm.” azzi looks up at her like she’s deliberating something, then smiles, coy and dimply, before stepping back slowly, taking paige with her. “i think…” she whispers, walking them back as if the room were her’s, until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. “i think i want you to give me some real pictures.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, sitting azzi down before kneeling in front of her, playing into the game. “for chad?” she wrinkles her nose as she says it. even his name is a turn-off. paige has no clue how azzi managed to have sex with that man. she imagines azzi saying something like, “oh, chad, yes!” and it turns her teasing smirk into something more like a barely-contained laugh.

azzi’s expression breaks, and it looks a little like she’s fighting a smile of her own. “ew, don’t say his name.”

unable to help it, paige chuckles, leaning her forehead against azzi’s thigh. “what do we call him, then?”

“nothing,” azzi says firmly, lifting paige’s chin and bending down so their nose-to-nose, biting her lip slightly as she studies her face. “i want you to give me those pictures,” she mutters, “let me prove him wrong. and then i want you to make me forget him.”

oh, paige can definitely do that.

without another word, paige surges forward and kisses her. it’s surer this time, steadier, now with the knowledge of what’s to come, not just tonight but tomorrow, and maybe—if paige lets herself dream—maybe even longer than that. based off the way azzi presses her tongue against the seam of her lips, paige thinks she might feel it, too.

paige opens up for her, pliant and willing, ready to do whatever azzi asks of her. azzi’s tongue is warm, wet, slippery against paige’s own and she groans at the feel of it, at the minty freshness of her own toothpaste that azzi had used.

“paige,” azzi breathes against her lips. paige hums, leaning forward again to close the small amount of distance. but azzi pulls back, just slightly, and when paige blinks her eyes open azzi’s looking at her urgently, pulling her up by the shoulders. “paige,” she repeats.

paige swears, she usually has so much more finesse in the bedroom. she once made a girl come in under sixty seconds. she convinced her ex to call her daddy, for god’s sakes. but this—this is azzi. and thus, she just stares blankly at her, mind trying desperately to figure out what azzi’s saying while her cunt pulses desperately in her boxers. “…huh?” she says after a moment.

azzi sighs, but there’s something in her eyes, and when paige looks hard enough she thinks maybe it’s fondness? but she doesn’t have time to discern that properly because then azzi is hooking her arms under paige’s armpits and all but hoisting her up into her lap, and that’s just…really fucking hot. paige doesn’t think she’s ever been hoisted before.

hands finding their ways to azzi’s shoulders, paige exhales, blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to regain some of her rizz. “you’re really strong,” she says instead.

azzi presses her lips to the hinge of paige’s jaw, mumbling against her skin, “good observation.” her arms are steady around paige’s waist, holding her close, allowing for the best access, and paige shifts, hips moving subtly against azzi’s thighs.

azzi’s lips trail higher until she’s nipping at paige’s earlobe, and paige can so clearly hear the little noises coming from her now; soft pants and exhales like she’s trying hard to contain herself. and that just—that does it.

wordlessly, paige presses against azzi’s shoulders, urging her to lay down. azzi looks at her quizzically but goes willingly, getting comfortable against the pillows as paige crawls on top of her. she leans down for another kiss but azzi presses a hand to her chest, stopping her.

“want this off, first,” she says, tugging at the hem of paige’s shirt. “wanna feel you.”

paige is quick to oblige, reaching behind her head to pull the neckline, azzi helping her until the shirt’s off, discarded somewhere to the side. azzi’s eyes roam shamelessly, but not as shamelessly as her hands, which trail over her abs, her ribs, the taut muscles in her back.

“you’re—” she swallows hard, “you’re pretty strong too.”

paige mentally fist-pumps. “good observation, baby.”

shivering against the cool air of the room, paige presses one last kiss to azzi’s lips, lingering there and thinking she could stay like that forever before remembering her job. photos. head. make azzi forget chad.

she shifts down, dipping her head into azzi’s neck to kiss the warm skin there. she smells good, like hair products and perfume. her hands wander of their own accord, lifting azzi’s shirt just enough to reveal a small sliver of skin, a glinting belly piercing. god, she doesn’t think she’ll get enough of this girl.

“want this off you, too,” paige instructs quietly, searching azzi’s eyes for any hesitation, but there’s only heat as she pulls her shirt off in one swift motion. it take’s paige’s brain a few seconds to catch up with what her eyes are seeing—azzi, topless, skin dark against the white bedding, nipples pebbled from the temperature change.

paige makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat, completely aware she’s staring but unable to do anything about it, because she’s surely not going to look away. not when azzi is staring up at her like—like that, with hooded eyes and a small, teasing smile. she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what it’d do to paige by letting her find out for herself she isn’t wearing a bra, and it’s going to drive her fucking insane.

“paige,” azzi says.

paige’s eyes snap up from azzi’s chest, somewhat guiltily. “yeah?”

“you have me really fucking worked up right now,” azzi says bluntly. “and as much as i love watching you stare at me, i need you to actually come here and do something about it.”

that gets paige moving.

it’s instinctual, the way she dips her head down, nuzzles into the valley between azzi’s breasts. the way her tongue darts out to taste her skin, the way her palms cup the underside of azzi’s tits and push them up before she takes the stiff peak of one into her mouth.

azzi sighs, this small, satisfied sound which only serves to encourage paige further. she relaxes a little, allowing herself to get out of her own head because she knows this. she’s good at it. she knows without a doubt she can make azzi feel good and if she dies tomorrow, then she’ll die happy knowing she at least got to have this first. got to flick her tongue over azzi’s nipple and revel in the soft moan it elicits from her.

the sound sends a jolt of heat through paige’s stomach, straight to the apex of her thighs. she’s acutely aware of the way she and azzi’s legs are slotted together, the sinewy muscle of azzi’s bare thigh between her own, hovering just beneath her. paige has to make a conscious effort not to bear down onto her, not to search for any of the friction she so desperately needs.

paige pulls off azzi’s tit with a slight pop, admiring the way it looks now, glistening with her saliva. she had planned on making her way down the length of azzi’s body, but now she’s stuck here, watching intently as she rolls azzi’s nipples between her fingertips, loving the way azzi arches up into her. she glances up to catch her expression, and what she finds—mouth slightly ajar, eyes fluttered shut—has her leaning back up to capture her lips in another searing kiss. azzi groans, surprised at the contact, and when paige licks confidently into her mouth, she groans again, this time sounding a little strangled.

paige chuckles against her lips, trailing away to nose against her cheekbone. “what, you need sum’?”

azzi huffs, arms around paige’s neck pulling her insistently closer. “you’re teasing me.”

“well, i’on know what you want,” paige says, pressing soft kisses against azzi’s jaw.

azzi’s nails scratch a little punishingly into paige’s back. “i told you what i want.”

paige shudders at the pain, the starkness of it, the shivers it sends down her back. “yeah,” paige agrees, leaning up on her elbows to look into azzi’s eyes, “but you ain’t told me how you want it.”

azzi’s eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forming on her lips, and the expression is so cute compared to the compromising situation they’re in that paige almost gives in then and there. but she’s a spent the entire night making an absolute fool of herself in front of azzi, and this feels like her only opportunity to show her just what she can do, what she can be, when she wants to.

and, shit, does she want to.

“gotta use your words, mami,” paige tells her, looking down at her with something like sympathy even as her tone is commanding, and it has the desired effect: azzi’s breath hitches, cheeks flushing, eyes squeezing shut like she’s collecting herself before she meets paige’s again.

“want your mouth, paige,” she whispers, almost like she’s embarrassed to be saying it out loud. “your tongue.”

somewhere in her aroused haze, paige registers that this must mean they’re soulmates or something, that they both want the same thing. she tucks that little thought away for later (she knows kk will agree when she tells her about it) and then nods, pressing a kiss to azzi’s forehead, just below her bonnet. “good girl,” she murmurs, testing the waters, and based off the way azzi exhales this shaky little whimper, she figures she’s probably into it. also good to know.

paige takes azzi’s forearms in her hands and withdraws them from around her neck, sitting back on her knees in between azzi’s legs. she hooks her fingers around her own basketball shorts, which sit tantalizingly on azzi’s hips—she doesn’t think she’s ever described basketball shorts as tantalizing before—and raises her eyebrows at azzi. azzi nods, lifting her hips off the bed, just enough that paige is able to easily pull them over the swell of her ass. azzi lifts her feet up, allowing paige to pull the fabric completely off and toss them away before she presses a kiss to each of her ankles. azzi watches her closely, hands fondling her own breasts in a way that makes paige want to put her mouth back on them, but then she’s glancing down at the exposed core between azzi’s thighs and there is nothing else that could possibly be more important than that, ever.

she sets azzi’s legs on the bed before shifting, laying herself flat on her stomach with her arms propped up beneath her until she’s hovering over azzi’s pelvis, admiring the smooth skin there and the belly ring that sits a few inches higher. she bends down, nuzzling her nose against the soft, curly hair she finds there, pressing a kiss and then many more along the expanse of skin until she reaches a hipbone. she bites, just roughly enough to make a mark, and azzi hisses above her.

paige’s eyes flick up, double-checking, but azzi looks more than okay—in fact, she looks downright impatient. when their eyes meet, she nods urgently at her. “get on with it.”

paige raises an eyebrow at the attitude but doesn’t comment on it just yet, instead pressing a kiss to the other hipbone before saying, “oh, you want more?”

azzi sighs at the coy tone in paige’s voice. “paige.”

“mm,” paige hums. “you sound frustrated, baby.”

“yeah, well,” azzi shifts uncomfortably, “it’s frustrating when you tease me like this.”

“yeah?” paige asks. she rests her cheek against azzi’s thigh, allowing her fingers to trail up and down the inside of her other one, getting close to where she needs her but never close enough. “you’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” she muses.

“fuck you,” azzi says, no real venom there as annoyance mixes with amusement in her eyes.

“i will,” paige promises, kissing her thigh, “princess.”

azzi opens her mouth to speak again. paige cuts her off with a harsh bite to the place she just kissed, turning her almost-sentence into a high-pitched whine instead.

“fuck,” azzi mutters.

paige inspects the bite—that will definitely be a mark tomorrow—and then shushes her gently, brushing her lips over the spot. “if you catch an attitude with me again,” she murmurs, almost sweet, “you’ll find how much worse i can be.”

azzi’s hips lift, surprise etching itself slowly into the lines of her face as she registers the words, but paige doesn’t take the time to look too close. azzi is spread before her, enticing, dripping, caramel brown giving way to soft pink, and she finally lets herself do what she’s dreamed of doing since she was in high school—she buries her fucking face in it.

azzi’s reaction is immediate and more intense than paige expected it would be, her back and hips arching off the bed as she groans, loud. paige doesn’t even care that arousal has just been smeared all over her forehead. she’s far too busy committing the way azzi tastes, sweet and salty, to memory.

the build-up paid off, as it always does, and azzi’s soaked. paige’s tongue laves wet heat from her entrance to her clit, building her up to a slow rhythm. she lingers a little each time at her entrance, where the taste is the strongest, unable to conceal her own choked sounds as azzi grinds against her face. she glances up to where azzi is playing with her nipples, propped up on her elbows to get a better look at what paige is doing, and the knowledge that she’s being watched so intently has her doubling down on her efforts.

when paige’s movements speed up, azzi’s head tips back, rolling against her shoulders. “oh, paige,” she breathes, sensual and dirty, “oh, baby. feels…”

paige presses her own thighs together at the pet name before flicking her tongue back and forth against azzi’s clit, applying pressure until azzi falls back completely, head thumping against the pillows as she whines. distantly, paige thinks kk could almost definitely hear them if she were to listen for it. she finds she doesn’t really care at the moment.

“feels good?” paige asks, pressing a few soft kisses to azzi’s cunt.

“mm-hmm,” azzi hums, eyes closed as she focuses on the feeling. her hands travel south until they’re gripping the back of paige’s head, and then she’s tugging her closer, back into her heat. “keep going, baby. please.”

“since you asked so nice,” paige teases, letting azzi’s hands guide her forward. she opens her mouth a little wider, sucking hard against azzi’s hole as if trying to draw more precum out of her before she kisses sloppily against it. azzi’s legs fall further open at the feeling, but paige quickly misses the feeling of thighs pressed against her head and loops her arm under the brunette’s legs, surrounding herself with soft brown skin.

the new angle brings her impossibly closer to azzi’s center, and paige sticks her tongue out, seeking azzi’s entrance before pressing inside as far as she can.

“oh my fuck,” azzi groans, gripping paige’s head tighter, almost possessive. “keep doing that, right—“ she chokes on her own words as paige begins a slow thrust, “right there.”

paige nods, unsure whether azzi can feel the acknowledgment, but it has her nose bumping up against azzi’s swollen clit and azzi cries out. she moves her tongue, feeling around the spongy inner walls of azzi’s cunt, a new wave of arousal pumping out until it’s dripping down paige’s chin onto the bedsheets below.

the room isn’t quiet, but it sounds like sex, azzi’s breathy moans and the filthy wet sounds of her cunt filling the room. she sounds so good, tastes so good, smells so good—paige is only vaguely aware that she has her own pelvis pressed into the mattress, absentmindedly searching for friction as she gets off on pleasing azzi.

she’s so focused on tonguing her that she doesn’t notice the way azzi’s breathing changes, becomes more rapid, or the way her fingers fist up paige’s hair in a way that’s almost painful. in fact, it’s not until she presses her thumb to azzi’s swollen clit while she tongue-fucks her that azzi manages a broken, “oh my god, i’m fucking—!“ that paige realizes she’s going to come.

azzi’s orgasm hits her in waves, it seems, with her hips pressing into paige’s mouth so intensely she can’t breathe for a solid thirty seconds before she’s abruptly pulling away, thighs shaking with the effort. paige watches in something like amazement as her stomach tenses, her cunt pulsing and clenching around nothing, clit twitching almost imperceptibly. it is—fucking beautiful, actually. a work of goddamn art. an image that belongs in the louvre right next to the mona lisa and the venus de milo.

she’s about to dive back in and get another taste of it when azzi uses her grip on her hair to urge her up. reluctantly, paige lets herself be pulled, kissing a gentle path up azzi’s stomach before coming face-to-face with her, thumbs brushing her cheeks as she comes down. eyes still closed, azzi pulls her closer, bumping their foreheads together.

“so pretty,” paige can’t help but mutter, watching azzi’s lashes flutter against her cheeks, lips plump and shiny and parted. “so good for me, baby. did so good.”

after another few moments, azzi opens her eyes, looking at paige like she hung the stars in the sky or something.

“i think i just fell in love with you,” she croaks, and paige laughs, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “heard that one before.”

azzi smacks her lightly, then pulls her head down, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before urging her to lay on her chest. paige presses her cheek to azzi’s heartbeat, their breathing gradually syncing up as they lay together. azzi’s nails scratch light patterns against paige’s back, nearly lulling her to sleep, before she abruptly stops and says, “oh, shit.”

“what?” paige asks sleepily.

“we forgot to get pictures.”

paige swears her ears perk up, and she thinks she might be just a little insatiable because she doesn’t feel so tired anymore as she lifts her head with a wicked grin. “damn,” she says. “guess we’ll have to go again.”

the next day, kk gives them hell for keeping her up all night, and gives azzi many earfuls about how she ‘told her so.’ paige offers up their room for the rest of the trip, even though they ultimately proved chad wrong with some certain photos, and azzi is all too quick to take her up on it.

and when, a year later, azzi transfers to uconn? let’s just say kk will swear up and down that she’s the reason they never lose another game to ucla.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wcbb #wbb #pazzi smut #pazzi au #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut #mcbw 2 #kk arnold #lilah’s works

374 notes · View notes

georgeclarkeys · 2 days ago

Text

tiktok trend series - george clarkey x reader

summary: you make george's friends be mean to you for a tiktok trend - 800 words

hi friends!! this is the first installment in my new tiktok trend series about your fav uk youtubers and your fav tiktok trends!! please please please send me any ideas you might have for this, especially a trend or a person you would like to see featured!!

Scrolling through TikTok was beginning to find a permanent spot in your nighttime routine. It had been several years since your account blew up, so you convinced yourself that you were doing research for new video ideas every time you spent an hour or so watching before bed. One recent trend was definitely piquing your interest, and with the help of your boyfriend's friends, you were confident that you could pull it off. Creators were staging a “who’s most likely to” game with someone close to their significant other, and asking the other person to be mean to them in order to catch their partner's reaction. You had the perfect idea, and were planning on getting a great reaction out of George.

It was an unusual evening at Casa Clarke-Dixon-Hill. All three roommates were home, and no one was streaming or working, so you managed to round them up and convince them to film a TikTok with you. You had talked to Arthur and Chris beforehand, letting them in on the prank and giving them permission to be as mean as they could, but George was clueless.

You placed your phone on the tripod and sat in a row, with Chris and Arthur on either side of you, and George standing behind looking curious.

Pressing record, you smiled, “Hey friends! Today I am joined by George, Arthur, and Chris, and we’re going to be playing a game of “who’s most likely to” where all of the answers are decided by George!”

All three of the boys let out a small cheer.

“Alright, George, who has the best voice?”

“Oh wow, starting off with a difficult one are we?” he laughed, “Obviously my singer friend Arthur.”

Arthur pumped his fist and cheered, “Yes! I’m just glad you didn’t say (Y/N), she sounds about like nails on a chalkboard.”

You saw George make a bit of a face in the camera before saying, “(Y/N) has a lovely voice.”

Ignoring the comment from Arthur, you continued, “Okay next, who is the smartest?”

George’s eyes bounced between the three of you in deep thought before calling out, “(Y/N).”

You turned around to smile at him, while Arthur and Chris shook their heads. George was suspiciously eyeing both of them as they looked at each other. Chris leaned past you to say to Arthur, “there is absolutely no way he actually thinks she’s smarter than either of us, right? She’s a TikToker for crying out loud.”

Arthur laughed and answered, “I thought he was joking to be honest.”

Your boyfriend was not laughing, he eyed the camera warily before putting on an exaggerated confused face in an attempt to ease the tension, “is this a who’s most likely to quiz, or an everyone bully George’s beautiful girlfriend quiz?”

You laughed awkwardly, doing your best to play into the uncomfortable atmosphere that was rapidly growing.

“Anyways, who’s the meanest?”

George does not even hesitate before answering, “Chris.”

Chris’s head turns around, eyes wide with shock, “you’re actually joking.”

“I would have said (Y/N),” Arthur mumbled, loud enough to hear.

“I would have said (Y/N) too!” Chris exclaimed, “she’s so unnecessarily rude all the time!”

You sat back with wide eyes and listened to the chaos unfold, watching George’s face grow red as his flatmates continued ripping into you.

“What the hell is going on!” he snapped, looking back and forth between his two friends, “Why are both of you being such dickheads to (Y/N)? Don’t talk about her like that.” He grabbed your hand to pull you up from your seat, “C’mon babe, delete that video. Let’s go film something else for you to post.”

Before he could grab your phone you decided it was time to give yourself up, “it’s a joke! It’s a trend!”

He turned back to look at you, “what?”

“I put them up to it. I told them to be mean to me.”

“Well that’s a fucking relief,” he laughed and put a hand over his heart, “I thought I was going to have to move out, oh my days.”

By the end of the day the video had over a million views, and a comment section filled with women thirsting over your boyfriend.

comments

user1: okay but why is george so sexy when he’s mad…

georgeclarkeey: This is something I would expect from Chris, but Arthur threw me off

user2: yes george defend your gf 😫

arthurhill69: i am so sorry queen (y/n) i love you

user3: (y/n) where did you find this man he’s perfect

user4: where’s the green flag guy

#i didnt proof this lololol i was to excited to share my new series idea with yall #george clarke #george clarkey #george clarke imagine #george clarke x reader #george clarkey imagine #george clarkey x reader

302 notes · View notes

overangel · 3 days ago

Text

ₛₜₐₜₑ ₒf dᵣₑₐₘᵢₙg

❥ This is a yandere batfam x neglected reader story.

act 1

Everyone has something they wish they could do over. There's probably something at the tip of your tongue, or nestled in the back of your mind that you'd give anything to change. What if you got a second chance? Nothing is as it seems and this is only the beginning. Do it right this time. ❥ TW: su!c!de and su!c!de attempts, death of a parent, depression & anxiety, semi-descriptive death.

Torrential rains poured as the crashing waves destroyed your entire world in a single Tuesday morning. Lightning backlit charcoal clouds and struck down everything that had the audacity to stand.

Anything that wasn't nailed to the ground and half of everything that had been were ripped away and sent spiraling wherever the wild winds willed them.

Some neighborhoods were completely submerged and you had lost track of where you were when all hell broke lose. Were you at home hidden away praying that the storm would pass you by, or had you been one of the many who tried to leave town on foot when traffic stood still?

You quickly realized the specifics didn't matter when nothing would ever be the same. It was as if your sixteen years of life, every pivotal and precious moment, meant nothing at all.

It should’ve been a normal storm, nothing to halt traffic and close the schools over, so how could it come to this? How could the recently erected dam that represented your humble town's industrial resurrection dissolve like a child's sandcastle?

How could pedestrians be dragged away by the surging storms that would leave many families broken and many more caskets empty?

How could it all happen so fast?

So many questions swirled on, but you were the only constant. As the waves crashed around you and licked at the soles of your mother’s feet, you held on tight, your iron grip crushing her fingers as you felt her own grip going slack.

Something in your right wrist popped, causing your hand to twist painfully to one side, but your strength didn’t wane. You wouldn’t let go even if your hand was ripped from its socket.

Your left hand was being lacerated as you could only grab a fist full of barbed wire before the gale winds sent you and your mother tumbling over the edge of a bridge.

A line of barbed wire fell over your head and wrapped tightly around your neck, shredding skin with each tug. You were the marionette and the wire that tore your flesh were the strings.

Who was the puppet master?

Millions of ice cold needles rained from the heavens, and the winds whipped dirt in your face. A particularly sharp rock that could’ve fit in the palm of your hand clipped the corner of your left eye and blood raised down your cheek, but despite it all, nothing could distract you.

Your gaze was straight and true as you stared down at your mother and into her flat eyes. You knew you had lost her, but couldn't bring yourself to let go.

You found out how thin the skin on your neck was as the wire tore in deep and now, instead of blood gushing from your wounds, it seemed to pour inwards and you started to feel suffocated. The rapid waves and tempestuous winds dragged you forward as the water levels began to rise even more.

Your mother was half submerged and the hale stopped hurting so much, and the burning turned to a pleasant tingling sensation that gave way to numbness. As the barbed wire around your left wrist peeled your skin like a grape, and the wire around your neck was flirting with decapitating you, you stared down into the face of the woman who brought you into this world and had never stopped

fighting for you.

This was the photo that had taken the world, for a lack of better words, by storm.

This single screenshot from a drone’s live feed was captured at just the right moment and something in your eyes resonated with the common person. Amidst a tragedy, was a child who loved so much, even more than her body could handle as the blood gushing from your wounds and your abnormally twisted wrist made clear.

But what really got people talking was that Bruce Wayne's only biological daughter was nearly killed when his own dam collapsed.

❥

It should’ve been a 𝓒𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 story, but fairytales just weren’t in the cards for you. You never stood a chance when you were a mark on his name from the moment you were found. Your reveal was like a personal attack on his carefully cultivated reputation, but you didn't have a say in the matter as you would be in a coma for months following the storm.

While you were fighting for your life, your father in blood only, was already building up a bias against you over the 'scandal.' The media was out for blood and wanted Bruce Wayne’s head on a pike for being a “deadbeat dad” and you couldn't do anything to dispel the bad blood before it congealed into something you couldn’t scrub away.

Your relationship with your father was in tatters and you had never met him a day in your life.

Maybe that’s how it all began? Maybe it was social media and the news that set the tone for your relationships with your “family.”

Maybe that’s why Bruce always looked like he was holding back bile when he caught a glimpse of you. Maybe that’s why Dick’s smile was always too tight and so quickly dropped before he even turned away from you completely (maybe he didn't care if you saw).

Maybe that’s why your injuries went ignored. Maybe that’s why no one noticed when your weight dropped too low or increased exponentially with each traumatic event.

Maybe that’s why no one noticed your broken arm or that it was from a suicide attempt when your half brother took everything too far.

Maybe that’s why no one noticed you buying a gun and bringing it into the manor.

How old were you? An adult, somewhere in your twenties? You had nearly failed high school and college wasn’t even an option for you. The specters and demons that haunted Wayne Manor had sunken their talons into your flesh like the barbed wire did all those years ago and tightened a noose around your neck the moment you stepped foot onto that land.

You weren't allowed to thrive. You weren't allowed to be anything more than what they needed you to be and that was barely alive.

The inhabitants, both of this world and the next, had haunted you for years and they were going to make you into another ghost who haunted this place.

That was the only time you had entered the Batcave since “coming home” as Bruce Wayne’s only biological daughter. They had thought you were ignorant to their double lives but you had known and kept the secret close to your heart. As if it was a mutually shared promise.

A one sided pact that made you feel like you were part of the family if only a little in the most desperately pǝʇsıʍʇ way.

Your presence was cloaked in shadow, and your steps were as silent as the grave. They were all there, and the sight made you hesitate.

A burning lump in your throat of a barely contained sob tried to tear through when you had sworn you were done crying over them. Guess that was another lie you told yourself.

Every “family” member was present like it was the most natural thing in the world. Each personality was so distinct but meshed perfectly in ways that they never could with anyone else.

You could never mesh. You tried. You cut off so many pieces of yourself—no one could say you didn't try!

Did it matter in the end? Are you happy with who you became? Of who you killed to get here?

Being on the outside looking in for the final time was a sobering experience.

Any doubt in your mind evaporated. This was the right thing to do. All of the actors were on stage and the light illuminated the cozy scene of familial trust that can only be born from adversity and shared suffering.

It was your turn to exit stage left.

You would never see the ending of their play.

Cassandra noticed you first, because of course she would, but she didn’t move. She only stared you down with unblinking eyes, eyes like black pearls that you had once found so pretty, but were too intimidated to meet in all these years.

You had only looked into her eyes once, maybe during the first week you since you had arrived at this God forsaken place, and you immediately burst into tears like an idiot. Her eyes broke your heart then. It would be the first of many times where someone looked at you, and you could tell they didn't see a human being.

You just wanted to say 'bye.' You didn't hope they'd break down and cry over you, you just wanted to let them know you were leaving now.

“What are–” Dick had fixed his mouth to say when he finally saw you after his eyes followed Cassandra's line of sight, but it was too late.

No batarang could fly fast enough to knock the gun from your hand, but no one moved a muscle, too transfixed by the weapon clenched in your scarred hand.

Your grip was just as tight and cocksure as all those years ago when you held on for your and your mother's lives.

You didn't break eye contact with your father as a sad smile pulled at your lips. Something in your eyes scared him, a most primal fear he hadn't felt since he was a child–the feeling of terror a screeching bat used to inspire.

This was the most non-negative attention they had ever given you and it would be now of all times. You laughed a humorless, watery laugh at the realization as you raised the gun to your head and seven pounds of pressure made all the pain go away.

Brain matter splattered against the wall, and blood spurted onto Damian’s face. Your only blood sibling had gotten back the Wayne blood he found you so undeserving of and the “wench's blood” he disparaged you for.

That phrase had killed you when it was spat out so many years ago and the grave had been paved over in cement when no one defended your late mother.

He can have all the Wayne blood he wants now.

The blast was followed by Alfred bursting through the batcave’s entrance and sprinting down the steps. His eyes were wide and terrified, "No, no, no!" Something was beginning to crack, "How could you?" Was he talking to you or to them?

A roar tore from his throat unlike anything anyone had ever heard from him. There was a certain vocal range that Alfred Pennyworth had never exceeded in his tenure as personal butler and pseudo parental figure to Bruce Wayne and his growing brood; So, no one knew this sound was even possible. It wasn't that of a distraught man, but of a wounded beast and a broken heart.

The scream that ripped from the man's throat was a guttural howl that chilled them all to the bone.

He dropped to his knees and pulled your lifeless body against his chest. He cradled you as if you were a small child as he carefully tried to hold your head together in his trembling hands. Delirium clouded his eyes, a madness that made him feel if he found all of the pieces he could put you back together again.

“Please, no…” Hair and scalp fell in chunks and your shattered skull came apart in his hands. “My dear girl…”

He had always known the outside world was too much for you. Keeping you near him was the safest place for you in a world that didn’t understand how precious you were.

You would have to face people who didn’t appreciate you the way they should in your own home, but that was a small price to pay to keep you safe.

That’s what he had thought.

The last bit of color drained away from this seemingly immortal man as your body drained of blood. You had taken the last of his colors along with his heart and he would never be the same.

His heart, his health, and a piece of his mind would be taken away with you.

“What did they do to you..?”

Jason’s mask was affixed firmly to his face when it happened, and his expression was a mystery except for a strangled gurgle emitting from the mouthpiece.

Like a death rattle.

He too dropped to his knees. “No.” Your blood soaked into his jeans as the mountain of a man had fallen to his hands.

Contrary to what everyone thought, you had passions and goals. There was so much good you wanted to do for others in ways that didn’t involve running around in a cape. Why didn't you? Why didn't you believe in yourself?

"If I had another chance, I'd do it right this time. If I had just one more chance."

Before your soul could be devoured by the hallowed halls of the manor forever, the flame you had once smothered ɪɢɴɪᴛᴇᴅ.

In a personal room, in an exclusive hospital away from prying eyes, a comatose Y/n L/n cried a single tear as her condition stabilized.

#yandere batfam #neglected reader #yandere imagines #yandere dc

174 notes · View notes

dark-fanfics-moon · 2 days ago

Text

THE PET Remmick x Reader

Part 4

Synopsis: Remmick will use ALL methods to make you stay. But maybe that backfired a little…

Warning:…It’s smut. Here. I said it. I have never written actual smut before in my life. But Remmick made me want to. Also Remmick is kind of a switch in this. He gives as much as he receives I’ll say. If you do not like smut, do not read. If you like smut, do not hesitate to like and comment. With that, enjoy. 😄👍

Here is part 3:

Irish Gaelic vocabulary used:

A ghrá: My love

Mo mhuirnín dílis: My faithful darling

Le do thoil: Please

Mo chroí: My heart

Táim ag dul chun do scriosadh: I am going to destroy you

Mo shíorghra: My eternal love

Your back slammed against the doorframe as Remmick’s hand tightened around your throat—not enough to crush it, not yet, but enough to make your breath catch. The inn’s candlelight flickered wildly as he shoved the door open, dragging you inside your shared room like you weighed nothing. The door slammed shut behind you with a finality that made your heart leap to your throat. Remmick’s eyes burned with anger, hurt, obsession—all tangled into one. He pushed you back against the wall and stared at you, his face still wet with another man’s blood.

“You ran.” His voice was calm, but the weight in it was terrifying. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath cool and unsteady. “You ran from me, darlin’…after all that warmth. All that progress between us…? Ye disappoint me, pet.”

You tried to speak, to explain, to cry—but his hand was still on your throat. He was pissed.

“Ye got me feelin’ things, darlin’. Things I dunno know what to do with.” He gave a breathless little laugh. “And then ye go runnin’ into another man’s arms like it meant nothin’. Aww…tut-tut-tut. Bad pet. That ain’t kind.”

His lips brushed your ear.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just drain ye right now. Tell me why I should let ye keep that sweet lil’ heart beatin’ after yer lil’ betrayal ?”

You wanted to lie, but instead you shook your head and a laugh escaped you. You were tired and just wanted all this to end. “Of course I wanted to leave. You treat me like a pet. You make me feel worthless. Why would I want to stay with you ?”

Your words hung in the air like a blade freshly drawn. Remmick froze. For a second, he didn’t breathe. Then his hand dropped from your throat. The silence that followed was suffocating. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck twitching as he slowly stepped back from you.

“Worthless…” he repeated, as though testing the word. He laughed once, low and hollow and raised his hand to his head in disbelief. “That really what ye think I see ye as ?”

He shook his head and looked at you, really looked this time—eyes flickering over your tear-streaked face, the way your chest rose and fell from everything he’d done. His voice, when it came again, was quieter.

“Ye think I dunno what I did to ye ? I ain’t stupid, darlin’. But I’m fuckin’ tryin’ here. I-I brought ye gifts ! I feed ye ! I take care of ye ! What more dye want from me, huh ?” He reached up slowly, brushing his fingers against your cheek as if the gesture could make up for anything. “You don’t know what it’s like…bein’ what I am. Cravin’ warmth every damn day and bein’ told you’re too monstrous to deserve it. So yeah, maybe I hold on too tight when somethin’ good comes near. But to hell with it…You’re the first thing in years that makes me feel alive.”

His eyes searched yours before he shrugged.

“But if ye want to go…I ain’t gonna stop ye this time. Door’s right there. But if ye stay ? You best mean it.”

The silence returned, pressing between you. The firelight crackled. He looked like he was bracing himself for you to walk away. You humphed and took a step towards the exit, but faltered and started thinking about what you would be returning to. Where would you go ? Your brother ? Your aunt ? They didn’t want to see you. They had their own life. Their own responsibilities. The people in your village hated you and you felt even more alone. To make matters worse…You felt Remmick’s hand hovering over your shoulder.

“…Me dolly. Ye know I could be good to you.”

Your breath hitched. That voice sent something skittering down your spine. Not fear this time, not entirely. Something deeper. Loneliness meeting loneliness. A cry in the dark met with another echo. You stared at the door again. Beyond it was freedom, yes…but also emptiness. Judgement. Cold nights and colder stares. No one waiting for you. No one calling you dolly like it meant something more than just another word in the wind. Remmick’s hand still hadn’t touched you, but you could feel its presence in the air just above your skin, like he was waiting for permission.

“…Why would you be good to me ?” you finally asked, voice quiet, tired, but not angry anymore. Just lost. He took a breath, slow and cautious, as if afraid you’d bolt at any second.

“Because I want to be,” he whispered, and his voice cracked ever so slightly. “Not just fer me. Fer ye.”

The next thing you felt was his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. Gentle this time. Not grabbing. Not holding. Just there.

“I ain’t got much,” he continued. “Ain’t got grace or kindness like the stories tell. But I got loyalty. I got hunger. And if ye stay—I swear on my own grave—I’ll learn how to touch ye right. Speak softer. Bite less.”

A pause. And then, in that worn Irish lilt:

“Ye could teach me. If ye want.”

You stood still, the quiet of the room deafening, the door still there before you. You could just—

You lifted a hand to the handle. You opened it.

Remmick was standing behind you…his nose tracing the back of your neck. You closed your eyes at the feeling and shakily closed the door. You didn’t feel Remmick’s hand moving until it was back around your throat. But he didn’t squeeze. He wanted to hear your heartbeat and whispered in your ear:

“Good lassie. I knew you were smart…”

You could feel the cold pads of his fingers resting at your throat, and behind that—the warmth building in him, drawn straight from the frantic rhythm of your pulse. His lips brushed your ear, and he murmured again, his voice almost fond now:

“Smart and sweet. Me lil’ darlin’. Me dolly…” He inhaled deeply. “You made the right choice. Out there, they’d gut ye with words, starve ye with silence. But here ? With me ? I’ll never let ye go hungry. Never let ye freeze.”

His hand slowly slid down from your throat to your collarbone, then rested just over your heart. He was listening to it. Feeling it beat for him.

“Feel that ?” he whispered. “It’s mine now.”

You shivered and he smiled.

“Are ye scared, lil’ dolly ?” he asked and closed his eyes before pressing his temple against yours. “Or…are ye startin’ to see what I see ?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. His words had scraped something raw inside you—torn through every lonely night, every moment of aching rejection, and left you exposed.

Were you scared ?

Of course. Of course, you were. He was a vampire. A bloodsucker. A skilled manipulator. But what chilled you more…was how much you wanted to believe him. That he could be good. That you could teach him softness. That in all the darkness, maybe—just maybe—you weren’t just something he took, but something he chose.

“…I don’t want to be owned,” you murmured after a moment, barely above a breath. “I want to be loved.”

The silence that followed cracked like thunder.

Remmick didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The tension in his fingers went slack, not retreating, but changing. His hand on your chest softened until it wasn’t a claim anymore, but a vow. You felt his forehead shift, the line of his jaw clench.

Then, in a voice so broken it barely resembled his own, he whispered, “I know.”

You turned your head, just enough for your temple to press into his. For your breath to mingle with his in the stillness.

“Would you ? Love me ?”

For a long time, the room didn’t move. The fire crackled. The air was thick with tension and promise. Remmick’s grip finally slipped away, replaced by both hands gently cupping your face. And then he kissed you—not rough, not claiming, not devouring.

But trembling. Searching. Trying.

Trying to be good. For you.

In a moment of pure madness, you turned around and kissed him back. Your hands found the worn edges of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, like if you let go you’d be swept away in everything he was—danger, devotion, ruin. His breath hitched, and for a split second, you felt him falter, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were really kissing him back. But then he melted into it—one arm wrapping firmly around your waist, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness.

His lips, still tasting faintly of blood and desperation, moved hungrily against yours. It was chaotic and clumsy, the way all first true things are. His teeth grazed your bottom lip when he pulled away slightly, breathing hard.

You exhaled shakily, your heart hammering against his chest as your mouth opened to demand. “A-Again.”

That broke something in him. He kissed you again—slower this time, reverent, like your mouth was a prayer and he was starving for salvation. His fingers threaded into your hair. You could feel the tremor running through his body, the conflict of instinct and longing, of bloodlust and heartache, all crashing into the simple truth that he wanted you. You cupped his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his skin beneath your palm, and for the first time, you saw not the monster—but the man clawing his way back from the edge.

“D’not leave me, me darlin’…” He begged.

Your breath hitched.

“I’m not…going to—if you stop giving me reasons to,” you replied. “But you have to meet me halfway.”

A breathless laugh escaped him. “Aye, dolly. I’ll crawl the whole damn way if I have to...”

You kissed a third time. But then suddenly, flashbacks of what had happened to your father seemed to fill your mind and you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth in disbelief. Oh no…What had caused you to respond ? To say such things to your captor—your ravisher ? Remmick stood frozen, eyes wide, lips slightly parted where your kiss had just been. For a moment, he looked almost human—as if you’d stolen the breath right from his undead lungs.

Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression. His tongue ran over his bottom lip like he was tasting honey for the first time.

“Well…” he drawled, voice low and disbelieving. “Didn’t see that comin’. Such fire. Such passion. Ye kissed me back, darlin’. Ye chose to. Can’t take that back now.”

You shook your head, still backing away, eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—I don’t know why—”

“Oh, but I do.” His grin was hungry now, but not for blood. “Yer mine, and yer body’s startin’ to realise it before yer mind inevitably does.”

You trembled, torn between shame and something far more terrifying: the fact that a part of you—some wild, lonely part—wanted it. Wanted him. You tried to leave the room, but Remmick was quick and grabbed you again and started kissing your neck. “Ye could go…or ye could just lemme show ye how good I can be.”

You struggled, heart thundering, hands pushing against his chest—but it wasn’t with your full strength. Your body was caught in that awful middle place between defiance and surrender. He felt it. He knew it.

Remmick chuckled softly against your skin, breath cold as ice. “There it is again…That fire. That tremble.” His fingers curled around your waist like they’d always belonged there. “Ye do not want to run, dye me sweetheart ?”

Your breath hitched. He kissed you again—slower this time. Deliberate. Torturously tender. “Ye got no place else to go, darlin’. No one who’ll take ye in, no one who’ll see ye like I do. I could keep ye warm. I could make ye forget what it was like to be unloved.”

You were trapped—not just by his strength, but by the terrible, aching truth of those words. Your breath caught in your throat. His fingers, careful but unrelenting, moved slowly, slipping past the loosened fabric of your shirt as if he were unwrapping a gift he’d waited far too long to open. You closed your eyes tighter, trying to silence the confusion tearing through your thoughts. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to feel—

“You’re shiverin’, me lil’ warmblood…” Remmick whispered, his lips brushing just beneath your jaw. “It’s okay. I’ll warm ye up.”

His thumb swept gently across your stomach as he studied you, his breath heavy against your skin.

“I could take care of ye, y’know,” he murmured. “Make ye feel wanted. Ain’t that all ye ever needed ?”

You were silent—torn between the horror of the situation and the ache of years spent being unseen. His lips pressed just above your heart.

“Just say the word, me darlin’.” He waited, his cold breath still ghosting across your skin, the quiet between you thick as blood. You didn’t pull away—but you didn’t lean in either. You simply…stayed.

And that was enough for him.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, something close to a purr, as if your silence confirmed something he’d long suspected. His fingers resumed their slow exploration, reverent in their touch now, as if you were sacred—something rare, something stolen from the warmth of the world and given only to him.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ll ask again, every single time. ‘Cause I want ye willing, not afraid. So…Dye want me to take care of ye, me pretty thing ?”

You sighed and looked up at the sky. Father. Forgive me. Which one you were addressing that prayer to ? You weren’t sure. Maybe both…And with that, you nodded in agreement. Remmick smiled victoriously and then lifted his hand to remove your shirt. He then gently pushed it off from your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.

You instinctively covered your chest and closed your eyes. Alright. Maybe you should have thought this through. It wasn’t too late. You could still back out from this…right ? Remmick paused again, his eyes flicking to your hands covering yourself. His expression softened for a moment, but it was fleeting. His fingers twitched, as though battling with the temptation to disregard your hesitation and continue, but he stayed still.

He let out a soft breath and slowly withdrew his hands, not wanting to rush you, even though his desire burned beneath the surface.

“Yer not ready, are ye ?” His voice had lost some of its edge, replaced with a curious softness, an expression which seemed affectionate. He took a small step back, his gaze lingering on you. The room felt too warm, too charged with anticipation, but he seemed to respect the boundaries you had set, even if just for now.

“Take yer time. I got ALLLL the time in the world,” he told you with a smile. He then nonchalantly picked up his banjo and started playing a tune, humming along as he waited. The soft, rhythmic strumming of the banjo filled the room, its melancholic yet comforting sound breaking the tension. Remmick’s voice was low and soothing as he hummed along, the melody like a lullaby, though it felt strangely out of place given the situation.

His gaze remained on you occasionally, but he didn’t press further. His fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease, and the familiar tune seemed to wrap around the room, enveloping you in its quiet chaos.

You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm amidst the storm inside your head. As his melody lingered, you found yourself standing there, caught between wanting to escape and the undeniable pull he had over you. His music, his voice—it was as if he was trying to soothe you, to make you stay without saying a word.

You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, thudding in time with the banjo’s rhythm. Despite everything, there was something gentle in the way he played, something that kept you rooted to the spot. As your hands slowly fell to your sides, the weight of the decision seemed to lift for a brief moment. His eyes flicked to you, but he didn’t stop playing, his fingers never missing a beat. He seemed content, as if the music was his way of reassuring you. He didn’t press you. He never would…

Remmick was waiting—waiting for you to decide.

And in the stillness of that moment, as his soft humming blended with the music, you couldn’t help but wonder: What would it be like to just let go ? Your hands then slowly lifted before you could command them to do so…reaching forward. He smirked knowingly, as if saying ‘finally’ and in a matter of seconds, the banjo clattered to the floor, and you found yourself replacing it in his arms, your legs straddling him before your mind could catch up. His cold hands settled at your waist with practiced ease, holding you firm, as if he’d known you’d end up there all along. His lips pressed softly to your bare shoulder, humming that same haunting tune. The vibrations of it hummed through your skin.

“Tha’s it,” he murmured against your skin. “Me good lassie…warm ‘n willin’…”

The warmth of his mouth against your skin, the grip of his fingers on your hips—it was maddening, terrifying, addictive. You never thought in a million years you’d be enjoying this. You felt yourself giving in to the intense sensations, his body between your legs, his mouth on your skin. Your hand moved down without your consent…You opened a few buttons of his slacks. He groaned when he felt your hand start to undo them. He looked down at what you were doing, and let out a sharp intake of breath. He then looked up at you quizzically, studying your face to see how serious you were. His gaze was a mixture of lust and something else…a strange, almost childlike curiosity or mischievous glee.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You were being reckless and irrational, but you were so far gone by now that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You were acting of your own free will…but he was the one driving you wild. His eyes didn’t leave yours, his breathing heavy, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes were completely dilated, his breathing erratic. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t have the words. What was this ? He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out were ragged gasps and moans of pleasure.

You were shocked and enthralled by this powerful creature, now so desperate for your touch. Your hand slid down, gently stroking him. He let out an undignified whimper and his head fell forward onto your shoulder.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go…He was supposed to have control and show you his talents to manipulate you into submission and yet—

“Stop.” He gasped and tried to push your hand away, but to no avail. You felt a smirk spread across your face at how much you were frustrating him. You moved your hand again, teasing him. He whined and grunted at your touch. You looked at him, studying him with curiosity. You had him trembling from the simple brush of your hand against him.

He had to stop this. He knew he had to stop this…but Remmick couldn’t. He hated himself for how badly he wanted this, how needy he was to feel your touch. He tried to push your hand away again, but you tightened your grip. He groaned, closing his eyes. You were completely in control now.

You whispered in his ear. “What’s the matter, Remmick ? Not used to being lead ?”

He moaned softly at hearing his own name. The way you said it…he had never heard it sound so good before. He gripped the sheets, his grip white knuckle as he fought to control himself. His body was shaking, he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Damn ye…” He growled the words out from gritted teeth, and the words sounded more like a curse or a plea.

You loved seeing him like this, seeing him struggle. He was so powerful and had always been in control…and now you had this power over him. This monster who could have killed you with a snap of his fingers couldn’t even fight his need for you. He was desperate now. The sound of him groaning and hissing like a beast…you had never heard something so erotic.

“…Lay down.” You instructed and he looked at you, his expression incredulous. He was torn…he wanted to resist, but he also wanted to obey you. His brain was screaming at him to regain control of the situation, but his body was obeying you on its own. He tried to fight it, but something overcame him and he finally relented. He slowly laid himself down with a thump, his back hitting the bed in his eagerness. You released him…but only to unbutton his shirt next. His chest was pale and strong, the lines of his abdominal muscles were clearly defined. You took one finger and gently traced it down the middle of his chest, starting from the top of his sternum, all the way down to his stomach. He closed his eyes and his chest rose and fell, as he struggled to maintain control. He was already a mess. Every touch of your fingers made him shiver.

He reached up, wanting to touch you as well, but you swatted his wrist away. He was shocked at the gesture and you almost laughed at how wide his eyes became. He looked up at you, trying to contain his surprise and frustration. He then opened his mouth to protest, but you placed one finger on his lips, silencing him.

“Now…You let me do this.” You demanded.

He hesitated before closing his eyes, and his body relaxed back against the bed. This was NOT surrender—he tried to convince himself. A pet should have some fun sometimes. It was…the natural way of things. However, he underestimated your brazenness and didn’t expect the sudden feeling of your lips on his body. Your hands roamed over the pale flesh of his chest and your mouth followed, placing small, delicate kisses on his skin. He inhaled sharply and his hands were grasping at the sheets now. He wanted to touch you…He growled in frustration.

Meanwhile, you couldn't believe it either. This creature…this monster…was under your spell. He was almost whimpering at the feeling of your mouth on his skin. You ran your hand along the ridges of his abdominals, marveling at the power you were holding in your hands. You continued on with your ministrations, running your fingers across his skin…tracing along his body, exploring every inch of his exposed flesh. He let out another small moan, his body shaking under your touch. He was breathing heavily, trying to fight off the sensations. You couldn't believe the raw intensity of the moment…the look of pure helplessness on his face as you—

He let out a strangled gasp, his eyes snapping open and staring down at you in shock at the sight of your lips on his manhood. His body jerked involuntarily. Warm…so warm. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing ragged. But you didn’t let up. His breathing grew faster, more desperate. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open anymore. As you continued your ministrations, he felt like he might break, but he didn’t want this to stop. The urge to touch was so strong…but every time he tried, you would stop him.

His body was begging for release, but you were keeping him on the edge. Suddenly, you stopped and lifted yourself up to be face to face with him as you kept stroking him. You wanted to see his face. His eyes were wide open in shock and it was so very satisfying to see him speechless. You flattened his black curls and your mouth hovered over his. But you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction…You kept squeezing and stroking him while staring into his eyes. His mind was reeling. He let out a strangled groan. He was trying to speak, but the sensations you had stirred up in him were making it difficult to form a sentence. He leaned forward, trying to kiss you, but you pulled back, keeping a small gap between your lips. You were teasing him…you were making him wait.

He tried to lift a hand to pull you closer to him, but you gently took his wrist and moved it back to the bed. He grunted in frustration, every part of him begging you for a kiss, for a touch, for anything…

“A ghrá…Please. A ghrá…” He called for you. His breath caught in his throat as soon as he heard his own words. A ghrá. It was an old term of endearment he hadn’t used in centuries…Hearing him speak in his original language made your blood boil in return. You relished the fact that you had him pleading. You leaned in a bit closer, letting him feel your breath on his face. He leaned forward, trying to catch your mouth once more…but you pulled away once again. It was a game…and you were winning. He was panting now, desperate to touch you.

“Please…A ghrá…” He growled. He couldn’t take this anymore…he was losing his mind. “A ghrá…I need ye.”

You looked down at him, enjoying the sound of his soft Irish lilt when he spoke his first language. He was now gripping your hips, trying to pull you closer. He was desperate, but you still would not let him kiss you. You looked down at his sharp teeth piercing through his gums now and the drool smeared acres his cheeks and chin.

…Were you really gonna do this ? Lose your innocence to this monster ?

He suddenly opened his eyes and stared up at you, his face filled with hunger and need and desperate desire. He was a monster…but you couldn’t deny the pull that he had over you. His breath was ragged and his hands were shaking violently, still staring up at you with those dark, lust-filled eyes. He was trying desperately to pull you closer, to feel your body against his, but you were still holding yourself just out of his reach. He growled in frustration.

“Mo mhuirnín dílis…Le do thoil.” He begged, saying things he wouldn't have dreamed of saying before. His body was shaking, his hands trembling as he fought to restrain himself. “Please, a ghrá…I need ye. I want ye. I'm begging ye. Lemme kiss ya…”

You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to remain unyielding. “No. You are still a monster. A creature from hell. A bloodsucking ghoul. You deserve…nothing.”

His eyes widened and his mouth did as well and you could see the sheer desperation in his gaze.

“Ach, a ghrá…darlin’…” His breath hitched as he felt you lower yourself onto him—but still not allowing him entrance. He was fighting for control, his body trembling, his fangs bared. “Darlin’…don’t. AH !”

He let out a moan as he felt himself enter you just a bit. It was so good…bliss. But you wouldn't let him have more. He looked up at you, his expression pained. He was trying to maintain his composure, but he was losing his mind.

“Please…a ghrá. Mo chroí, I need this…please…”

You saw how desperate he was, and you took pleasure in knowing how much power you had over him at the moment. You had him begging for your kiss…you had him begging for your touch. You had taken the most powerful, dangerous creature in the world, and reduced him to a trembling, needy mess. You wouldn’t even let him touch you…and you felt more powerful than you had ever felt in your life.

You leaned down closer to his face and smirked as you repeated mercilessly.

“No.”

He let out a whimper at your words. You had reduced this creature to a needy, desperate mess. He was begging you for the smallest amount of release.

“Me darlin’. P-Please. T-Tell me I can enter ye. Please. I cannot…enter ye fully without an invitation.”

You smiled down at him, almost cruelly. You had this monster completely in your power. “No. You don't get to touch me. You don't get to kiss me. And you don't get to come inside me neither. You don't get anything from me.”

He suddenly roared in frustration. “LET ME IN, YE WRETCHED WOMAN !"

He was screaming now, his whole body shaking. He had completely lost his composure. You had destroyed him, and it was the most satisfying thing you had ever seen. His eyes were red now and he was screeching like a banshee—his claws tearing through the sheets.

“LET ME IN ! NOW !”

He was like some feral animal. He was so desperate, he didn’t know what to do. You leaned down, and whispered to him in the softest voice you could muster.

“No. You don’t get to have me. You don’t get to have what you want. You will do as I say and take what I give you, you filthy bloodsucker.”

He let out a low, animalistic growl as he heard your words. He was almost beyond words. He was ready to do anything, say anything, to have you in any way he could.

He whimpered in frustration, and tried again. “Please…I’m beggin’ ye. I’ll do anything ye want. I’ll do whatever ye say. I’ll give ye anythin’ ye want…ah ! I just need to be in ya !”

Your smirk grew wider as you looked down at him, taking satisfaction in his desperate, begging state. He was at your mercy now. You whispered again, your voice soft, but commanding. “No. Beg all you want, Remmick. You don’t get to have me. Do you hear me, you pathetic bastard ?”

He let out a pitiful whine in response, his face contorting in pain. He was so close, but yet so far…he couldn't take this any longer. His body was trembling, his mind was racing…he needed you. He needed you so badly. He was almost in tears now as he pleaded with you. “Please…I can’t stand it. Please, A ghrá. Please, please let me come in ye. Just a lil’ bit. I know I don’t deserve it, but just a lil’ bit. Please…C’mon !”

You shook your head. You could see how desperate he was, and his sounds of despair were like music to your ears. You leaned down, so your mouth was only a few inches from his ear. “No. You don’t get any more than what I’ve given you. You don’t get anything from me…no matter how much you beg. You don’t get to touch me, kiss me, or come in me. You’ll come without me and I will relish your utter defeat…”

That was it…he couldn't take it anymore.

He screamed out, a primal, anguished howl. He couldn't do this anymore. He was a wreck, his whole body shaking. He pleaded and whimpered and cried. He was beyond words, beyond reason. He let out a strangled cry as he tried to form words again.

“Please, a ghrá. I’m beggin’ ya…I’ll do anythin’ ! I’ll crawl for ya. I’ll get on me knees. I’ll worship ye, mo shíorghra…” His words became more desperate and incoherent. He was begging and pleading. “Please, a ghrá. Gimme just a bit more, please. I’m beggin’ ye. I’ll do anythin’ fer ye, anythin’ ye ask. I’ll kiss the ground ye walk on, just please, PLEASE…let me come inside you. Just a bit. I’ll be so good. I won’t even move. Just a bit is all I’m askin’. Just a lil’ bit, darlin’ please, I’m beggin’ ya, darlin’ ! Lemme inside !”

You felt a surge of excitement in watching him plead so desperately. You leaned down and purred to him. “No. I like seeing you beg like this. It amuses me. But you don’t get to have me. You don’t get to come inside me. You’re going to come without me. You’re gonna spill yourself all over like a dirty pig—like the animal you are—and I am gonna watch. And I am gonna enjoy it. And you will feel humiliated—just like I have been for the past few weeks.”

His body tensed up, and you could see that he was getting close. He looked up at you weakly, helpless to stop himself. He let out a strangled whine, his voice barely above a whisper—one last desperate attempt to make you change your mind. “Please…a ghrá…PLEASE. I’m BEGGIN’ ye, a ghrá. Please, mo shíorghra…”

Your smirk grew even wider as you saw how completely helpless he was to stop himself and he took your wrist to kiss it and lick it. You had him right where you wanted him…You leaned down, your mouth hovering over his ear.

“No.”

As he came, you saw a look of despair and helplessness in his face, and you felt a pang of pleasure. His body convulsed as he came. It was the most intense and pleasurable experience he had ever had in his life, and it was ruined. He had become undone, and he hated you for it. Yet you felt nothing but triumph. He was a monster, and you had utterly, completely, totally dominated him. He hated you in that moment. He looked up at you, completely spent. He tried to say something…but no words came out.

He glared at you. “…Yer gonna be so fuckin’ sorry fer that, darlin’.”

You weren’t impressed by his threat. You sat back calmly. Seeing him on his back like that, so helpless, filled you with complete satisfaction. You looked down at him, a smirk on your face. “Oh really, you’re gonna turn the tables on me now, are you ? Just a few moments ago you were pleading me for even one more little inch of me. So tell me, vampire, how exactly are you going to take your big revenge ?”

He suddenly pounced on you. He pushed you down on the bed with his body, pinning you underneath him. He was so angry, that animalistic look back on his face. His fangs were bared, and his face was mere inches from yours. He was glaring down at you, his breath labored, and he was still trembling. But then, his eyes went down and he grinned.

“Let’s see if ya like that, mo shíorghra…”

He then went straight between your legs and before you could stop him, he licked a strip. You gasped from surprise, and then tried to squirm away. You should’ve seen this coming, and yet you were caught completely off guard. You tried to push his face away, but he didn’t budge. He was pinning your thighs to the bed, and there was no way you could escape as his tongue pried you open. You had felt powerful up until this point, but now he was showing you how much that was an illusion. He wasn’t begging anymore. He was going to do whatever it took to show you just how little control you really had and that whatever control you had over him was because he allowed it. He looked up at you with those dark eyes and gave you a fiendish smile. You felt a shiver go up your spine, and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He was gloating, enjoying every moment of this. You felt his hands tracing up your thighs, and then he pushed your legs even further apart.

“That’s it…just like that…spreadin’ yerself nice and open fer me, darlin’…Lemme show ye a good time.”

You tried to close your legs, but he held you in place…You were slowly realizing you had maybe bitten off more than you could chew. He then looked up at you from between your legs, and his eyes were so dark. All the meekness from before was gone. He was in control now, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“M’gonna take me time with ye, darlin’…” He grabbed your thighs and lifted them on his shoulders. “Now gimme everythin’ and don’t hold back. I’ll know.”

You looked down and saw him staring up at you with that intense gaze. It was a look of pure hunger, as if he had gone centuries without having enough to eat. You tried to control your breathing, tried to keep your composure, but you couldn’t. Your legs were shaking, and you gripped the sheets. He was powerful…he was dangerous…and he had you praying for your salvation. He held onto your legs, keeping you steady as he slowly ran his tongue over your lower lips. His eyes were locked onto yours the whole time, and you felt gooseflesh go up your body just from the feeling of his tongue. He ran it across your skin, leaving a trail of damp heat and you bit your arm to stop the screams.

He then chuckled.

“All those memories in me head of sex and tastes and sensations…But ye know what ? You’re the first person I’ll be able to use me new skills on.” He looked up at you and his eyes lit up. “…Or ye would like someone else ? Is this body attractive enough to ye, baby ? I could always ask fer another…Stack is rather handsome. Bo as well…We’re all the same. We’re all part of the hive. I could ask them. They wouldn’t mind.”

You had so many thoughts running through your mind. You couldn’t even begin to process this. He was a monster…he was a vampire…but he was also making you feel a lot of things at the moment…and your body would not let you forget that. You felt your heartbeat getting faster, your temperature going up. He knew he was getting to you. He could probably smell it. Then why ? Why would he ask this ?

You looked down and saw the way he was looking at you. Then it hit you. Remmick had lived a long life, but his body would never change—not really. He was short, pale and sickly-looking. He had mentioned that he had tried to attract ‘warm ones’ before with no success. So perhaps in the past his mistresses had asked him for favours such as this. But you did not want to. You shook your head. “…No. I…don’t want another…I want you.”

He looked up at you, a slight surprise on his face. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. “Oh ?”

He was still holding on to your thighs. He was trying to keep his composure, but this time, you had surprised him. He stayed there, his expression curious. You stared into his eyes—panting. He stared back at you, his expression slightly unsure. He was supposed to be in control now…he had you right where he wanted you…but then you had to go and say something like that. He studied your face, looking for some hint of a lie, some hint that you were just telling him what he wanted to head. But he found none. You meant what you said.

For a moment, his smile seemed genuine as he gave it to you before he decided to suck and lick on your nub to make you come. He wanted to see what other sounds he could pull from your mouth. You had surprised him, and it made him hungry for more. He was getting more and more aggressive now, his tongue working over your skin with an inhumane intensity.

You couldn’t take this much longer. Your body was trembling, your mind was going blank…

Meanwhile, Remmick was putting the effort to get you there. He had never had anyone want this body—his body. He had tried to get the warm women to look his way—but this body never seemed to interest them. But you…You writhed under him, your body trembling as he continued to lick and suck. He knew just the right spots to touch, just the right tempo to make you lose your mind. He was driving you to ecstasy…and you didn’t care about anything else. You wanted more, more…You felt yourself teetering on the edge. You were so close, you just needed a little more. You were getting lost in the pleasure he was driving you into. It was all you could think about…He wanted you so badly…and he wanted to watch you come apart.

“C’mon, me pet. C’mon.” He encouraged you. Every brush of his tongue was like a jolt of electricity, taking you higher and higher…you couldn’t take much more. He was pushing you to your limit…he was so good at this. So good…it was like he was made for this. Your hand found itself in his hair. Not to grip, but to wordlessly stroke his dark curls…

He gasped, clearly not expecting that. He looked up at you, a small moan escaping as you ran your hand through his hair. It was such an intimate gesture, so unexpected…he almost lost his focus for a moment and looked up at you to ask again. “…Lemme in. Lemme in, me darlin’.”

His voice was like honey…and it was going straight to your brain. You knew what he was doing to you. He was trying to break you down…to get you to do what he wants. He was trying to make you give in to your primal instincts, ignoring consequences. He kissed your inner thigh.

“…Grá mo chroí. Gimme a home between yer legs. Please.”

You felt another rush of heat at his words. His accent, coupled with that honeyed voice, was like a spell. He knew he had you…he could smell your arousal, and it was driving him wild. His tongue continued to assault you, making you delirious. He was trying to break you down, to get you to throw away all sense of reason.

He looked up at you with those dark eyes.

“…Say ‘yes.’ Just say it. Invite me in, me darlin’.”

His command was like a shot of adrenaline… your mind was screaming to say no…but your body was begging for more. You could feel yourself coming undone. You knew if you said no, he would stop, and the thought filled you with frustration. His licks were getting more deliberate, more demanding. He knew exactly how to work you up, how to break you down. It was like he was playing a symphony, and your body was his instrument.

He looked up at you with those dark eyes, and you could see the hunger in them. He growled, his voice raw with need. “Say it.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. His licks and his touches…his voice…all of it was driving you mad. You were so close…you couldn’t think straight anymore. You felt the words leave your lips before you could stop them.

“Yes ! Yes…”

You heard a low, victorious chuckle come from his throat. He knew he had won. He couldn’t believe that he had actually got you to say yes…he had finally broken you down. He had a satisfied look on his face, an expression of sheer triumph. He was finally getting what he wanted. And he wasn’t gonna waste it. His tongue thrust into you and you cried out in pleasure. Your body was his now, and nothing could stop him. He was no longer asking permission. He was going to have you, in every way possible. His eyes were almost glowing with hunger, looking like that of a wild animal. You felt like he was about to eat you alive.

His hands were gripping your thighs with such strength, it almost hurt. His fingers would probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care. You wanted this…you needed this.

His eyes shone wickedly, and you could see a hint of the animal inside him. This was an older, darker part of himself. Once you came, he did not stop. He kept shoving his tongue inside you…collecting the blood from your broken hymen. When you felt his tongue finally slide out of you, you let out a gasp. You were so overwhelmed, so sensitive…you didn't think you could handle any more.

But he wasn't finished with you yet.

He looked up at you, his mouth glistening with your juices. His expression was dark, almost feral. There was a hunger in him that wouldn't be satisfied…a hunger that wouldn't be sated, no matter how much he took from you.

He climbed up your body to face you completely.

“Táim ag dul chun do scriosadh…” He smirked before slowly entering you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you gasped. You felt him slide inside you, and it was like nothing you could have imagined. He filled you completely, and it felt so good…so right. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he tried to be slow and steady. He was trying to control himself, trying to keep it together…but it was obvious it was taking everything he had. The same words were whispered into your ear, low and rough. “Táim…ag dul chun do scriosadh, mo shíorghra.”

Once he was all the way inside you, he started moving, slowly at first, but his pace quickened with each stroke as drool ran down his chin and he closed his eyes. He was enjoying himself and it showed. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of being inside you. He was still trying to be gentle, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. He was getting rougher with each movement. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could hear him murmuring things in his language that you couldn’t quite make out.

Then you heard him bite out the words, “I'm going to destroy you, me sweet one. Yer life is no longer yers. I’m goin’ to take yer life and ye will be here with me ‘till yer soul no longer goes up to the heavens without me corpse…wrapped around ya.”

He was getting more desperate now, his pace picking up…he was losing any self-control he had left. He was murmuring in his native tongue…a stream of words and curses you couldn't understand. But you could still make out the way he was calling you ‘m'aingeal’ and you could hear the way he said ‘ag dul chun do scriosadh’ repeatedly. He grabbed on to you, his fingers leaving marks all over you. He was losing himself in you. And that’s where you heard it…He growled and whimpered like an animal when he came deep inside you. He nuzzled your neck and his mouth opened. He wanted to bite you…but he restrained himself and only kissed your skin instead.

You came alongside him and you thought you might pass out. He was breathing heavily now, trying to catch his breath. He was still buried deep inside you, and you could feel his heart pounding. It was a strange feeling, hearing his heart beating—and then you realised it was yours you were hearing.

He then let out a low laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he had done. It was like he had just discovered fire, and now he didn’t know if he should use it, or if he should put it out.

“Mo chuisle…” He called you, and it was like a confession. But you knew better. You hesitated before flattening his hair to the side to look into his eyes. He swallowed heavily, his expression filled with confusion. You had broken the spell, and now he was slowly coming back to himself. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. But you could see the hint of darkness still lurking behind his expression, like a shadow just lurking around the edges of his mind.

You smiled and felt tears in your eyes. “You were meant to be beautiful…Remmick.”

He looked at you, surprised at the tears in your eyes. His expression softened, and he took your face in his hand.

“Are ye cryin’ fer me, darlin’ ?” He asked, and there was a hint of shock in his voice…as if he never thought someone would cry over him before. Your heart squeezed in your chest.

“You look so young…You love music…You love to be loved. But you were so lonely…You could have been so wonderful. But then…All that changed…because you wished to have a family again.” You sighed and pressed your forehead against his. “…I am sure your heart used to be so full.”

He was taken aback by your words, and he looked at you with surprise—almost fear. It was like you had looked deep into his heart and seen things that he had hoped no one would ever know. He was speechless, completely caught off guard…he didn’t know what to say…He swallowed heavily, his face twisted by an emotion you couldn’t name. He didn't know what to make of you…you had seen so much…you understood so much. It was unsettling and comforting all at once…

He took a deep, shaky breath, and he managed to croak out a word.

“…Darlin’…”

You stroked his cheek.

“…To the ones who made you decide to change, I wish an eternity in hell for taking a bright light away from this world. I have never met a man like you. And yet, your way of seeing your hive as a family, caring for your children as you do, singing and dancing…I know you used to be so beautiful. And it hurts me to know that nobody had the courage to see you as such and to tell you.”

His eyes locked onto yours. He let out a low breath, and the words came out of him like a whisper.

“…But I am still beautiful…right, me chuisle ?”

You hesitated. He was watching you closely, waiting for your answer. His face was still so close to yours, and he was still holding onto you. He seemed almost desperate…like he needed you to say he was beautiful. There was a moment of silence, and he finally spoke again.

“…Darlin’…Please. Call me beautiful.”

Your eyes watered. “I wish I could…Parts of you are still beautiful but…”

His face fell, and his expression darkened. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the hurt from centuries of loneliness, of rejection, of being seen as a monster. He was silent, trying to hide his emotions. He looked away, and the moment was gone. But still…he was clinging on to you, like a drowning man holds on to driftwood.

You couldn’t help but hold him too.

“…It would be so easy to hate you. So easy. But at the same time, it would feel so wrong. For I know it is not entirely your fault that you are the way you are.”

He let you hold him, his face pressed into your neck. He was still trembling, his breathing ragged. He was in a state of shock. He had been shattered, stripped down to his foundation…and now he was a mess. He inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of you…he took comfort in your gentle touch. You looked at him, and you saw just how broken he was. It was like you held this wild creature in your arms, and suddenly he was just…broken. He was a wreck…he needed comfort, but he had been so alone for so long, that he couldn't even let himself ask for it.

His words came out as a shaky whisper, and he was holding you for dear life.

“Ye should not say such things to me…I should turn ye fer sayin’ them.”

You stared at him, and you saw the anguish in his eyes. He looked like he was at war with himself, the monster and the man fighting for control. And suddenly, you realized something. He was begging for an excuse to let go. He was holding on as long as he could, but you could see the battle he was fighting. You saw the man who had lived for over half a millennia…the man who had seen so much, and lived through things that should have killed him.

You saw a glimpse of the tortured soul behind the monster. You could see the torment he was going through, the internal struggle he was trying to contain. His body was so tense, every muscle wound up tight, his eyes staring at you with a desperation you had never seen before. He wanted a way out. All he had to do…was give in to his baser impulses. And just…bite you. You were just here. He knew you had no way to resist. You could see the pain behind his eyes, the torment of the conflict raging inside of him. He was trying so hard to hold himself back…he was trying to fight the urge, but it was getting harder and harder. He let out a low moan, sounding tortured. Every muscle in his body was tense, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. He wanted to bite you. He needed to feed. You were right there…he could do it.

Your heart sped up, and you could feel the tension in the air. He was so close, and you knew if he lost control, there would be no stopping him. He let out a ragged breath, and his eyes had that feral look in them.

He looked at you…and you saw the look in his eyes was predatory. “…Tell me one reason…why I shouldn’t turn ye…”

You smiled sadly at him. “If I was a part of your hive…my soul would go. And I would be just like any other of your children…hollow. My blood would be gone, and so would be my humanity.”

He let out a breath, and you could see the moment he realized you were right. He knew what it meant to turn you. He knew it would consume you—body, mind, and soul. He was left with the reality of the situation….what he wanted, and what he could not have. He suddenly snarled and stood back up.

“I need to feed. Stay here. Do not leave this room !”

He turned away, got his clothes back on and you could see the anger suddenly consume him. He was furious. At himself, at you, at the whole situation. It was like a switch had flipped. He no longer looked human.

He made his way to the door, and he paused before passing through. It seemed like he was about to tell you something, but reconsidered. The door slammed behind him, and you were left with your thoughts. You laid down on the bed and started fidgeting.

Was that your life now ?

———————————————————————

You were left in that dark room…alone with your thoughts. You tried laying down on the bed, but you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. Your mind was racing, your feelings all jumbled up. You felt completely overwhelmed. You hadn’t even known him for more than a few weeks, and yet your life had completely changed. You tried to take a deep breath and relax, but you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what had just happened…and what it all could mean.

You suddenly heard screams…You covered your ears and tried not to cry.

You sat there in the dark, trying to ignore the horrible sounds outside. You wanted to tell yourself it was just your imagination…but you couldn’t stop hearing the desperate wails, and it was making you nauseous. You tried to drown out the sound, but they seemed to be everywhere. You pulled the pillows over your head, trying to block out the terrible sounds. You tried to remind yourself that you were safe here, in the room where he had left you. But you could still hear the screams…you could imagine what he was doing to whoever he was feeding on…Once he was fed, you heard the door opening behind you. He stood there. You didn’t turn around. You knew what you would see…

He was quiet, and you could feel his eyes on your back. There was silence…and you knew that he was watching you. You could vaguely smell the metallic scent of fresh blood…but you were afraid to turn around. You didn’t want to see what had happened, what he had done.

He spoke up, and his voice seemed quieter…almost tender.

“Darlin’…turn around.”

You didn’t and replied dismissively. “I am…tired. I think I will go to sleep now.”

He let out a low chuckle and walked closer, the sound of his footsteps getting louder.

“That right ?” he said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice. “Don’t ye have any other words fer me, darlin’..? C’mon. The night’s still young. And I just got a burst of energy that I wanna spend ALL on ye."

You could feel him sitting down on the bed, and the weight of the mattress shifted underneath him. He laid down next to you, and the smell of blood got stronger. His hands were on your waist, and he curled himself up against your back. He was so close…You restrained the nausea that suddenly took over you and the need to throw up. He was holding you from behind, and he had now wrapped his arms around you.

“Mmmm…y’smell so sweet…” he murmured appreciatively. “…like honeysuckle and sunshine…”

You could feel his body pressed up against you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. His hand found your hair, and he curled his fingers in it. His other hand was trailing up your side, and his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“How about a second round, mo chuisle ? I am suddenly feelin’…extra affectionate.”

When you didn’t answer, he took offense and frowned.

“Don’t be silent now, me darlin’. Speak t’me…tell me what ye thinkin’ about at least…” Your breath caught in your throat, and you suddenly felt the urge to turn around. His hand was still in your hair, gently tugging at your locks/strands/curls. He was stroking your face with the other…and you could feel something hard and…substantial against your hip. “…Or maybe I should tell ya what I am thinkin’ about ?”

He was getting more and more handsy. His fingers were trailing over your body, tracing over your curves. He was holding you tight, his face buried into your neck. He was starting to kiss you, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your skin. One of his hands was tenderly fondling your breast. His hand found your jaw, and he gently twisted it to the right, so your head was facing him. He moved in and kissed you. But this time, his mouth was open, and his tongue was pushing past your lips. You were taken aback and the taste of blood made you physically recoil and gag. He seemed amused by this reaction, his hand on your chin preventing you from turning your face away. He broke away from the kiss, but he was still holding you there.

“What ? Ain’t me kisses to yer likin’ anymore, darlin’…? They seemed to suit ye just fine earlier.”

You could taste the coppery flavor of blood in your mouth. “Remmick. Remmick please…I do not like the taste.”

His expression darkened as you said that, and he seemed to get annoyed. “Yer tellin’ me no…?”

He looked down at you, his eyes blazing. “Ain’t I got the right t’kiss ye how I want ?”

You winced. “The taste…Please. Just wash your face.”

He looked down at you, his expression hardening. He was clearly annoyed, and he took a moment to breathe deeply. He sat up and got off of you. He seemed angry, and he stood there for a moment, his body tense.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he just left the room. You heard the faucet in the bathroom turn on. You sighed in relief. You heard the water running in the bathroom, and you could finally relax. You sat on the bed, trying to collect your thoughts. Your mind was still reeling from what had happened. You spat in a bassin nearby…He then came back from the bathroom, his face looking clean enough.

“How do I look now, me darlin’ ?” He asked with a smile.

You tried to keep your expression neutral. You still had the bitter aftertaste of blood in your mouth, and it was making you feel sick.

“…Fine. You look fine.”

His grin widened and he took a few dancing steps forward—a clumsy attempt to make you laugh. He was trying to be light-hearted, and it somehow worked a little. You couldn’t help but let out a smile…He suddenly stopped, noticing that you smiled at him. But then he smiled again and grabbed his fiddle to start a song.

“In the emerald fields, where our love's tale begins, Where the green rolling hills lead all hearts to mend, I found my home in my true love’s embrace, In the land of Ireland, beyond time and space.

Oh, Irish love a flame that forever glows, With a passion to vanquish all gallant foes, In the warmth of your touch, my soul is reborn, Our love, like Ireland, forever adorned.

Underneath the moonlit sky the banshee may wail, But we pay no mind as we dance through the gale Whispers of love carried on the Irish breeze, Our spirits more wild than tempestuous seas…”

You couldn't help but smile at his words…his singing was rough and a little off key, but it was charming in its own way. You could hear the passion in his voice, and you realized that this was something he loved.

He took your breath away, the way he sang to you. The song was a mixture of sweet and wild…it was like hearing the voice of the Irish landscape singing through him. It was beautiful, and it was strange…like a song that touches your very heart.

He continued as he danced around the room and smiled.

“…Through the fields of Athenry, we'll wander hand in hand, Where British army soldiers no more will walk this land Our love it will endure, through battles fierce and long My life is yours forever more, through conflict I’ll be strong

Oh, Irish love a flame that forever glows, With a passion to vanquish all gallant foes, In the warmth of your touch, my soul is reborn, Our love, like Ireland, forever adorned.

But now I must bid thee a lover’s goodbye To battle I go for to free Erin’s Isle Our hearts, my love, always aligned In this Irish love song, forever enshrined.”

He was singing with passion and dancing in tandem. He was in his element, and it was clear that he loved being able to perform for you. He was a completely different person when he was dancing and singing…it was like he was completely lost in the moment. Every movement seemed to be filled with joy. He was completely in the moment, fully alive, like his very soul was being filled with happiness.

Seeing him like this…it was beautiful. There was a light in his eyes that was breathtaking. You felt your heart open up at that moment, as you watched him give into the music and let himself be completely happy. It was so unlike the dark, dangerous man you had seen just moments before. It was like two different people…but the same.

Tears fell from your eyes as he sang, not because you were sad, but because you were moved by the beauty of his words. You could feel the deepness and the pain of the lyrics, and you realized that this song was a part of him.

He finished singing, and he looked at you with a look of deep affection. He looked like he couldn’t believe that you were there, listening to him. He walked over to you and took your face in his hand.

“Look at ye, lassie. Cryin’ over a lil’ song meant to cheer ye up ! Silly filly…”

You tried to laugh and wipe the tears from your eyes. It was true. You were crying over his song. It was just a song…but it seemed like so much more than that. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He kissed the top of your head, and he rested his chin there.

“…Me darlin’ lassie…did I get to ye ? Forgive me. ‘Twas just a song.” There was affection in his voice…a tenderness to his touch…it was so different from the way he had acted before. “…Yer tears ain’t what I was lookin’ for, darlin’. I ain’t here to make ye sad. What should I do, then…to get ye smilin’ at me again, hmm ?”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. It was such a silly question…You looked up at him and smiled.

“…Just sing me another song, okay ?”

There was a light in his eyes at the sound of your laughter. He was relieved. You could feel his body relaxing as he held you, as if he had been wanting to hear your laugh the entire time. He gave you a sly grin, and he ran his hand over your hair.

“Another song, eh ? Ye liked that one so much that ya want another ?” He pretended to think about it before grinning. “A’right ! But this time, I want ye to sing long ! Lemme hear yer pretty voice…”

You gave a bashful laugh, wiping the lingering tears from your cheeks. “Sing along ?” you echoed, your voice still a little shaky from the wave of emotions. “I don’t even know the words…”

He scoffed playfully, sitting upright with a dramatic gasp. “Then I s’pose I’ll have to teach ye, won’t I ?” He gave the fiddle a little tune, plucking a few strings and humming thoughtfully as he worked out a melody.

“You’ll catch on quick,” he promised with a wink. “It’s just a bit o’ nonsense…but I promise it’ll stick.”

And then, with a little flourish and a grin like a devil on a mission, he launched into the next tune—faster this time, jauntier. A playful rhythm that felt like springtime in a pub full of laughter and spilled ale.

“Oh, I met a bonnie lass down by the shore, She said, ‘Sing for me once and I’ll ask for no more !’ So I sang her a song, and I danced her a reel, And now she’s stolen my heart like a thief in the field !”

He pointed to you on the last line, waggling his brows dramatically, and you laughed out loud before you could stop yourself.

“Ohhh the lass with the eyes like the sea after storm, Her temper is fierce, but her heart’s kind and warm ! If she’d let me, I’d kiss her and call her me bride, But she’s likely to punch me and run off to hide !”

You burst into a fit of giggles, covering your mouth, and he looked delighted beyond words. His eyes sparkled as he leaned in close, coaxing you with his grin.

“C’mon, lass. Join me on the chorus. It’s easy !”

He slowed just enough for you to follow.

“So hey-ho, my wild Irish rose, With cheeks like fire and fists like blows, I’ll love her ‘til my dyin’ day, If she don’t chase me away !”

You sang the last line with him—nervously, out of tune, but with laughter catching in your throat. He beamed like a fool, proud as ever.

“See ? That’s it !” He winked again, this time more gently, brushing your hair from your face as the final note died off.

You looked up at him, cheeks warm from singing, from laughing, from feeling again. And for a long moment, the two of you just sat there, close and quiet. Something delicate hung in the air between you—soft as lace and just as easily torn.

He tilted his head, eyes roaming your face like he was memorizing you. “Y’know,” he murmured, voice low now, “I think I like this version of ye best. All lit up and laughin’.”

Your breath caught slightly at the honesty in his tone. You reached for his hand—tentative, unsure—but he met you halfway and laced his fingers through yours. He then pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his free hand still holding the fiddle between you. And outside, the world was quiet. Just the faint hum of the night and the echo of his song still lingering in the corners of the room.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful this was—this moment. He slowly put his hand on your waist. He was looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. He whispered words in Gaelic, but his voice was soft and it was like he was just speaking to himself. You couldn’t understand what he was saying. The language was unfamiliar to you, but the way he said it…it was as if he was speaking a prayer.

He was looking at you with a different look in his eyes. He kept his hand on your waist, and he gently pulled you closer, putting his other hand on your chin and tilting your face up to his.

He leaned in and gently captured your mouth in his, and the kiss was so tender.

You closed your eyes. The kiss was soft, like he was scared you might break if he pressed too hard. It was a completely different kiss from the ones he had given you before. It was careful and thoughtful, like touching something precious and delicate. He was gently cradling your face in his hand, and tracing your features with his fingertips.

“Yer mine, right lassie ?”

You looked up at him, completely stunned by the pleading tone in his voice. His dark eyes were boring into you, and he was waiting for you to respond.

But then he pressed gently on your waist with his hand—insisting. “Right ?”

Your eyes fluttered and you suddenly had a moment of clarity. What was happening to you ? You had been kidnapped just nights before, and now…you were in the arms of the monster who had stolen your life away. And yet, you couldn’t seem to find the will to deny him.

You swallowed heavily and looked straight into his eyes as you finally replied. “Yes, I am.”

He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, like he was thanking the universe for its gift. His hand was still on your chin, and he held you there for a moment, like he was savoring the moment. He then smiled and kissed your jaw.

“…Good. ‘Cause am yers too now, a ghrá.”

#Spotify #remmick x reader #remmick x y/n #remmick x you #sinners 2025 #sinners movie

168 notes · View notes

myinaru · 2 days ago

Text

Childhood Best Friend Complex

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (14.4k - Part 1)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You and Heeseung had spent twenty chaotic years crashing into each other. Bickering, teasing, arguing like it was your first language. Now, you were slumped on the floor of his dorm, drunk and quiet, knees touching, the air between you strangely charged.

Heeseung didn’t move much. Just watched you with wide, unreadable eyes. His hand crept toward yours slowly, like even the thought of reaching for you was too loud. His fingers brushed yours. Then stopped.

His breath hit your cheek. It was warm. Uneven. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “Do you... want to kiss?”

No smirk. No teasing. Just fear, and something he couldn’t hide fast enough. He’d never say it unless he thought you might say yes. Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it.

You froze, confused. “You’re drunk,” you said with a nervous laugh, nudging his arm.

Heeseung’s expression tightened. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he forced a laugh, too sharp to be real. “Yeah, I’m drunk. Fuck, Y/n. You really think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Stupid idea.”

He started to pull away, but his reflexes were off. His knee bumped into yours, and he hissed. More from the weight of rejection than pain. “Fuck. Stupid,” he muttered, catching himself against the wall. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? Why are you... you never... God, forget it.”

You furrowed your brows, head spinning slightly. You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

He stiffened at your touch, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face like he was trying to read every single thought behind your eyes. His hand twitched in yours, like he wanted to pull you close but was holding back.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said softly, dangerously quiet. “Not tonight. Not after...” He swallowed hard. “God, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know if I can...”

He broke off with a strangled sound, forehead leaning against yours. “Tell me I’m being stupid,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s just the alcohol.”

You swallowed. “It might be the alcohol... but I’m not telling you I don’t want it. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore... Can’t we just not regret this tomorrow?”

He went still. His heart felt like it stopped before thundering back to life. “That... that’s not—I mean...” he stammered, hands trembling slightly as he brought them to your face. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones. “Are you serious right now?”

His voice was rough, thick with emotion he rarely let show. His eyes searched yours intently, looking for any trace of hesitation. “Because if this is real... if you actually want...” He swallowed again. “Shit, Y/n. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him.

The moment your lips met, he let out a shaky gasp. His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling as he kissed you back with a desperate intensity. It was messy, passionate, tongue and teeth, hunger barely held back.

A small moan escaped him, muffled against your lips. His body pressed flush to yours, fitting like a puzzle piece that had always been missing. One of his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers digging into your shirt as he pulled you closer.

When you broke apart for air, he was panting, eyes dark with desire. He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How many times I’ve imagined it,” he said.

You smirked, resting your finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He nipped at your finger lightly, his teeth grazing the skin. His eyes locked with yours, full of heat and promise.

“No regrets,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not with you.”

Then he kissed you again, hard. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you onto his lap. The position pressed your bodies together, and he groaned into your mouth.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you so fucking much, Y/n. Want to feel you, taste you, make you mine.” His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare back. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You mirrored his touch, sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath. As you moved closer, you felt his erection press against you.

Heeseung sucked in a breath. His muscles tensed under your fingers. When you rolled your hips against his, his reaction was immediate, hips bucking, breath catching. “Y/n…” he groaned. “That feels so good. You’re killing me.” His hands held your hips tighter, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate. You could feel every hard inch of him, even through the layers.

“I bet you’d look so pretty riding me,” he panted into your neck, kissing along your throat. “Bet you’d take me so well. I want to feel you squeeze around me. Fall apart on my dick.” One hand came up to cup your breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh through your bra.

You let out a shaky breath, grinding harder.

He let out a low growl of appreciation, helping you move against him. “That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck, the way you move...” His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric, sending heat straight to your core. He pinched and rolled it, his other hand still firm on your hip. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he murmured. “Want to hear you moan my name.”

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you whimpered his name, picking up the pace.

Heeseung gasped, thrusting up to meet you. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.” His hand slid up your back and into your hair, tugging gently. The other dipped into your pants, under your underwear, gripping your ass firmly. “If you keep doing that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You smirked. “That’s honestly a turn on.”

He shuddered, overwhelmed. He looked at you, eyes dark and blown wide. “It is? You like knowing how much I want you?” He ground against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. “Because I’m so fucking close. You’re gonna make me explode in these jeans.” His thumb pressed against your clit, slow circles over your underwear. “Think you can make me come like this? Grinding until I lose it? Bet you’d love feeling me twitch against your pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip, meeting his rhythm. “I know you’ll cum for me. You always do what I tell you, don’t you? Just like the good little boy you are.”

Heeseung let out a strangled moan, body seizing. “Oh fuck...Y/n... I’m cumming!” He buried his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the cry. His cock pulsed and twitched, hot release soaking his pants as he clung to you. Your name fell from his lips in broken whimpers.

You came with him, body shuddering, head falling to his shoulder. “Ngh... fuck... so tired...” you mumbled.

Heeseung smiled, exhausted but content. He held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling you with him. After dressing you in spare clothes, he cleaned himself up and returned to curl beside you.

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful, before sleep took him too. Still half-drunk, halfaware.

The screeching of your alarm feels like a knife in your skull. You reach for your phone, slapping it down with a groan, but the damage is done. Your head’s pounding, and it feels like the world’s spinning under you.

Beside you, Heeseung groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s half-smothered in. “Ugh. Shut it up,” he mutters, flinging his arm over his face like it’ll save him.

You don’t even have the energy to respond. Your hand moves instinctively to your forehead, trying to ease the ache that feels like it’s about to split your brain in two.

Heeseung shifts, throwing his arm away from his eyes. He squints at you through the haze, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically, his voice barely more than a croak. “I think I might actually die today.”

You don’t even respond at first. Your mind is too busy reeling, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion, the details fading in and out.

And then, bam. It all comes rushing back.

You dry-humped your best friend.

You don't even know where to begin. Last night was a blur of alcohol and hormones and bad decisions. Your hands on his chest. His breath hitching. Your bodies moving together in the dim light. His voice in your ear. Your best friend, your dumb, sweet, annoying, beautiful best friend had his hands all over you.

And you… let him.

No.

You wanted him to.

You groan again, burying a pillow over your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heeseung mutters, still not fully opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” You yank the pillow away and look at him. “What the hell was last night, Heeseung?”

That gets his attention. He blinks at you like a deer in headlights. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

He bolts upright, sheets falling away. “Wait- we didn’t, right? We didn’t actually-?” He gestures wildly.

“No!” you say too fast. “God, no. But we… we dry humped each other for, like, an hour, on the floor.”

Heeseung flops back, groaning into the pillow now. “Kill me. Just end it. Right here. I’ll leave you my gaming chair in my will.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

“You started it!” you snap.

“You climbed on top of me!”

“You pulled me down!”

“You were grinding!”

“You moaned!”

Heeseung yelps, shoving the pillow into his face. “Shut up!”

The pillow shifts just enough for him to peek at you. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t even-” he blurts. A beat. Then quieter: “Well, maybe.”

He lets the pillow fall into his lap, deflating like a kicked balloon. “God. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. What do we even do now?”

You wince at the memory of what you said last night. Every detail’s still painfully vivid. “Well... we said no regrets, right?” Your voice comes out careful, uncertain. “We agreed.”

Heeseung goes quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the floor. Then he gives a small nod, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Right. No regrets.”

He rubs a hand through his hair, only making the mess worse. “So... we’re good? Still friends and everything?”

“Only if you swear, we never mention the phrase ‘dry-humped’ in front of each other again.”

“Deal.” His voice wavers, just enough to give him away. “Because honestly, if we’re not anymore, I might actually combust right here.”

You snort, reaching for the nearest pillow and tossing it at him. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not gonna throw away twenty years of friendship just because we almost-”

Your voice catches. You clear your throat and stand up instead. You only realize then, you’re wearing his hoodie. Not yours. Definitely not yours. It hangs oversized on your frame, soft and warm. You glance at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushing.

Heeseung catches on too, eyes widening. “Oh, uh- yeah. Sorry about the clothes. You would have been sleeping in your outside clothes and I blurred out and just- gave you that. I didn’t look. I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He makes a strangled noise and looks away. “Okay, well, want breakfast or something? I heard food helps with hangovers.”

You take one last glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring pajamas, so… appreciate it.” You point toward the bathroom. “Can I shower here?”

Heeseung nods quickly, still red in the face. “Yeah. Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Shampoo and stuff’s in there too.”

You start walking past him, and he inhales, just a little too deeply. You catch it. His laundry soap mixed with your perfume lingers between you.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, stopping you just before you disappear into the bathroom. His voice softens. “About last night… I’m glad it didn’t mess anything up. You’re sickeningly important to me or whatever, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, ignoring how your stomach flips at how disgustingly earnest he says your name.

“Me too,” you reply. “It’d be a waste to throw twenty years down the drain over one really… weird night.”

Heeseung exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all morning. “Exactly. Besides,” he adds, a small smile forming, “who else would put up with me and feed me when I’m too hungover to move?”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth lifts. “You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he retorts with a laugh, clearly relieved. “Now go take your shower before the water goes cold, princess.”

You snicker as you close the door behind you. “Stop calling me that! You’re so fucking weird when you’re nice.”

Heeseung’s laughter rings out from the other side of the door. “I can’t believe you’re still talking back while you’re in the bathroom. What kind of weirdo are you?”

You hear him flop onto the bed again as the shower water turns on, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “I can’t believe I dry-humped my best friend. Classic Heeseung,” he mutters to himself, clearly still cringing.

After about twenty minutes, you both finished getting ready, falling into silence, moving like you had been doing this forever. You didn’t talk much, just small comments and glances over breakfast before going to the university together.

By the time you reached campus, there was barely any time left before classes started.

Without much choice, the two of you split ways. Different departments, different buildings. Still, that parting tugged at something. Maybe it was how reluctant Heeseung looked, or the way his eyes lingered a second too long.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t focus all day.

His professors might as well have been speaking gibberish. He found himself zoning out midlecture, thumb absentmindedly grazing the edge of his notebook as images of last night kept flashing in his mind. The way your voice softened when you were sleepy. The heat of your skin when you leaned too close.

He was still stuck in that daze by lunchtime, hovering near the cafeteria entrance with his tray in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were seated by the window, halfheartedly poking your food with your expression unreadable. He hesitated.

Should he join you? Would that be weird?

After a moment of internal chaos, he sucked it up and walked over, plopping down across from you like it was no big deal.

"Hey," he said, voice casual but eyes hesitant. "Didn’t know if you wanted company. Didn’t wanna be annoying."

You didn’t even look up right away, just poked at your food with a spoon. Then you smirked. “I was literally looking for you earlier. Then I gave up 'cause I got lazy." He blinked in surprise. That made his shoulders relax just a little.

"You know," you added, finally meeting his eyes, "what’s with you lately? You’re acting weird. You’re never this... nice. It’s freaking me out."

Heeseung sat up straighter, hand pausing mid-bite. "I’m not nice? Wow, okay. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever thought of that?"

"There he is," you said with a laugh, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder a little too hard. "There’s the asshole I grew up with. Thought I lost you for a second."

Heeseung winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You trying to dislocate my arm? Damn. You're lucky I even tolerate you. Especially with that garbage personality of yours."

But you caught it, that flicker in his eyes when you touched him, even briefly. The twitch of his lips he tried to suppress when you teased him back.

Things might’ve continued that way, comfortable, familiar. If only Jay hadn’t suddenly flopped into the seat next to Heeseung.

"Dude. Be real with me. Are you dating her or what?"

Your fork froze mid-air. Heeseung choked on his water.

"What?! No- what are you-" He looked between you and Jay, a bit panicked. "We’re just friends! Why would you even-?"

Jay shrugged. "I mean, the way you two bicker like an old married couple? Come on. And the rumors are already everywhere."

You raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung. "Who in their right mind would think I’d date him?"

"Excuse you," Heeseung shot back, glaring. "I’d rather shove my head in a blender than date some clingy, passive-aggressive- ow, god!" He hissed as you kicked him under the table.

Jay just watched with a grin. "You two are exhausting."

Then his grin widened as he leaned closer to Heeseung. "But since you’re not dating her, does that mean Jung Yeri’s got a shot with you?"

You blinked. That name made your stomach do something unfamiliar and ugly.

Heeseung visibly tensed. "What? Why are you even-?"

"Dude," Jay laughed. "She’s been all over you. Pretty sure half the class already thinks you two are a thing."

Right on cue, a girl that looked suspiciously like Jung Yeri sauntered by. She tossed Heeseung a slow, deliberate wink before settling at a table nearby.

Jay elbowed him again. "Go talk to her! You’re blowing it!"

But Heeseung looked like he’d just been cornered by a wild animal.

You tried not to laugh. Honestly, you really tried. But your hand twitched and your lips curled as you bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was a struggle not to smirk as you watched him flail.

"I- no," Heeseung said abruptly, voice sharper than he meant. "I’m not into her."

Jay blinked. "Seriously? She’s not your type?"

Heeseung let out a strangled sound, running his hand through his hair. "She’s fine, I guess, but I’m not... I do not like. I’m already-"

His eyes flicked toward you, just briefly.

"...interested in someone else."

Your hand paused on your tray. You glanced up at him, lips parting slightly, but you said nothing.

Jay, of course, was relentless. "What? Since when?! Who?"

Heeseung mumbled something, but it was too low for anyone to catch.

Jay leaned closer. "Huh?"

Heeseung snapped, "It’s none of your business!"

You finally cracked. The laugh escaped before you could catch it, loud and unfiltered. You covered your mouth, turning your head, shoulders shaking.

Heeseung glared. "What’s so funny?!"

Jay smirked like the puzzle pieces finally clicked. "Wait a second... it’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got it bad for Y/n."

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink again. "What?! No!" he barked. "I don’t like her like that!" You only laughed harder, tears starting to prick your eyes from holding it in.

Jay turned to you. "Is that true? You two really aren’t into each other?"

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, calming down enough to deadpan, "The only day I’d be into him is if the world ended and we were the last people alive."

Heeseung’s smirk wobbled for a second. "Right back at you. I’d rather eat glass than date you."

Jay shook his head and stood. "Y’all are full of it. Anyway, I’ve got class. Try not to murder each otherwhile I’m gone."

Once he left, the tension stayed behind. Quieter, but heavier somehow.

You leaned in. “Really? You like someone who’s not Yeri?”

Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and looked away.

“Why do you care?” he muttered. “It’s not like it matters.”

You grinned. “Are you sure Yeri isn’t this mystery lady you secretly like?”

“Oh God, no way!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, she’s… not my type. At all.”

He picked at his rice like it offended him. “I don’t even know why you’re asking. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who it is.”

You shrugged, standing to set your tray aside. “Do whatever you want. Although…” you smirked as you leaned your chin on your palm, “I do hope your virgin ass finally gets laid.” Heeseung’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?!” he nearly yelled.

Everyone turned. He ducked down, voice hissing now. “I am not a virgin! And even if I was, that’s none of your business!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even went on a date?”

Your smile fell. “Hey! For your information, I’m actually set to go on a group date with my friends this Friday.”

His expression darkened instantly. “A group date?” he reiterated. “Since when are you into that kind of thing? I thought you hated crowds.” He leaned closer, tone sharp. “And who exactly are you going with? Do I know them? Are they even decent people?”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care? And besides, it’s about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend.”

Heeseung’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. He forced a laugh, bitter, hollow. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

Then, he stood up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind him. His tray clattered as he grabbed it. “I have to go. Class starts soon.”

You frowned. “Hey-”

But he was already walking away.

You blinked, confused. “You don’t even have afternoon classes today…” You shook your head, carrying your tray to the bin. You frowned as you watched him storm off, tray in hand and tension radiating from every step.

The doors clattered shut behind him.

You stood there for a few seconds, tray still in your hands, like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body yet. Heeseung never walked away from an argument. He lived for comebacks, lived for that smug look he always wore when he got the last word.

So why now?

You blinked, startled by the tight knot forming in your chest. Was it something you said? You turned slowly toward the trash bins, tossing your leftovers away, but your mind wasn’t really on autopilot like it usually was. You weren’t thinking about your next class. Not even about what Jay said or how half the cafeteria had stared at you when Heeseung yelled about not being a virgin.

No, all your thoughts were stuck back at the table. Replaying the way his eyes darkened when you brought up the group date. The way his jaw tensed. That laugh that wasn’t a real laugh, more like something brittle, something breaking.

And then he’d left. Just… walked out.

You stood by the bins, fingers loosely gripping the edge, your tray empty but your head full of noise. The kind of silence that rings in your ears when everything around you moves on and you’re just… stuck.

You leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as your thoughts started spiraling.

Why was he upset?

Sure, you teased him. You always did. That wasn’t new. Neither was him teasing back.

But this time…this time he’d gotten weirdly defensive. About Yeri. About you going on a date. About everything, really.

He always called you annoying, or brat, or headache, but he’d never looked angry. Not like that.

Not like someone who was… hurt.

You stared at the floor.

And then it hit you, an idea awfully insane, and kind of stupid.

He was acting jealous.

The word lodged itself in your brain like a splinter.

No. No way. That didn’t make sense. This was Heeseung. He’d rather die than admit he liked anyone. Heeseung, who called you a cockroach just last week when you stole his fries.

Heeseung, who once said he’d sooner become a monk than date you.

Still, you couldn’t shake it.

That look in his eyes when you joked about finally getting a boyfriend.

That silence.

The way he’d refused to look at you when he said, “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

You slowly made your way out of the cafeteria, feet dragging more than usual. Your fingers were twitchy, like they wanted to text him, but you couldn’t even think of what you’d say.

And still, that question kept circling back in your head.

Annoying. Shitty. Question.

He’s not… jealous… is he?

Heeseung didn’t even remember how he got back to his dorm. One second he was standing in the cafeteria, hearing you joke about getting a boyfriend, and the next he was outside, walking blindly through campus with his fists jammed deep in his pockets.

The cold didn't help. If anything, it made his thoughts sharper, more jagged.

It's about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend. He could still hear it. Like a punchline he wasn’t in on.

He kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk, watching it bounce into the bushes.

“Stupid,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “So fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, the thought of you with some guy from that group date or the fact that he had no right to be this upset in the first place. You weren’t his. You never had been.

But that didn’t stop his chest from tightening every time he imagined you laughing with someone else. Sitting beside him. Holding his hand.

Heeseung cursed under his breath as he shoved his dorm room door open and slammed it shut behind him. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, eyes burning holes into the ceiling.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything that happened.

Not after that night.

Your lips. The way you melted into him. The way your hands gripped his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

He let out a groan and buried his face into his pillow.

What the hell were you even thinking?

He wanted to text you. Apologize maybe. Pretend it didn’t matter. But every time he picked up his phone, his thumbs froze, and the words disappeared.

So instead, he just laid there. Let the ache sit with him like it had every night since.

You walked into class like you were wearing a mask.

Blouse tucked in. Skirt straightened. Smile tight.

Everything looked fine from the outside. But inside? Your brain had been on a loop for hours, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened with Heeseung.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Friends fight. You probably just hit a nerve. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d said something wrong.

Maybe-

“Earth to Y/n.”

You blinked, startled, as Vicky waved her hand in front of your face.

“You've been staring at your notebook like it's gonna write itself,” she said with a giggle. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Uhm… yeah. Just thinking about... things.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Things,” she repeated. “Uh-huh. Right. Like how you’ve been zoning out since you sat down. Does this have anything to do with that guy you’re always with?”

Your smile froze. “What- Heeseung? No, why would-”

She gasped softly. “Oh my god, it is about him.”

Before you could argue, she clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect timing! Don’t forget, our group blind date’s this Friday. You have to invite him. I bet he'd totally get along with my friends. Or maybe you two can date each other and pretend it's a blind date.”

You stiffened. “Woah, slow down. Heeseung and I? That’s… we’re like family. Literally. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”

Vicky pouted, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a shame. You guys would be stupid cute together.” You rolled your eyes, but the weird twist in your gut didn’t go away.

“And hey,” she added teasingly, voice low, “if you’re really not interested… is he fair game?” You whipped your head toward her so fast your hair slapped your shoulder.

Vicky laughed nervously, holding her hands up. “Kidding! Kidding. I know better than to go after someone you’re protective of.”

You turned back to your notes, pretending to write something. But the words blurred together.

Why did that bother you so much?

Heeseung could date whoever he wanted. You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care. And yet the thought of him sitting next to some girl on Friday made you want to scream.

It didn’t make sense.

Your fingers gripped your pen tighter.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Vicky tossing in ideas for venues and flirty outfit suggestions while you nodded absently, stuck inside your own head.

By the time you got home, the sun was already setting, casting warm shadows on your walls.

You dropped your bag on the couch and kicked off your shoes, but something soft hit your thigh as you moved.

You reached in and pulled out the fabric.

Heeseung’s hoodie.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, running your fingers across the soft sleeves. It still smelled like him. Laundry detergent and something warm underneath.

You didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not when your heart still felt like it was in a blender and you didn’t know why.

But now you had an excuse to. And that irritated you more than it should.

“Whatever,” you muttered, tossing it in the laundry and pretending like that settled something.

It didn’t.

The next few days passed like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of you texted.

Neither of you reached out.

You kept telling yourself that was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That everything was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Every time your phone buzzed; your heart jumped. Every time it wasn’t him, it sank.

Heeseung was the same. Pretending he was busy. Pretending he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes. Pretending he didn’t care that the hoodie you wore while falling asleep in his arms was gone.

Denial was easier.

Until Friday rolled around. The day of the group date.

And neither of you could deny anything anymore.

The day of the group blind date crawled by, but you felt the weight of it like a countdown.

You spent the morning aimlessly cleaning, second-guessing your outfit, and chewing on your lip as you stared at your phone. Still no text. Not that you expected one. Not really.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Heeseung was pretending to be busy. Doing laps around his dorm, rearranging laundry that was already folded, and slamming his fridge shut multiple times for no reason. Every task he did had one purpose: stalling.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.

You heard the doorbell just as you were zipping up your boots. When you opened it, your breath hitched.

There he was, standing stiffly outside your apartment, a black tote bag dangling from one hand. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, and also like he’d explode if he didn’t show up.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “You left your clothes. From that night.”

You blinked, confused for a second, then glanced down at the bag. Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Right.” You stepped back, your voice smaller than intended. “Thanks... wait here a sec.”

You ducked inside, grabbing his pajamas off your bed and stuffing them into the bag. When you returned, he was still standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for lending me this too,” you mumbled, holding out the bag again.

Heeseung nodded, his jaw tight. He took it wordlessly. His fingers brushed yours. Then, after a beat too long, he said, “You look…”

He didn’t finish right away. His gaze dropped again. To the dress. The earrings. Your exposed collarbone.

“You look nice.” The words left his mouth like he hated them. “For your date, I mean.” He cleared his throat, jaw working. “Have fun or whatever.” You froze.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Like there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I should go,” he said, turning away. “Don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving you staring at the closed door, mentally cursing yourself for not saying more.

You stared at the shut door for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt like something important had been said. And also, like nothing had.

By the time your Uber pulled up, your nerves had twisted into a tight coil behind your ribs. You tried to shake it off as you headed to the restaurant. But that all flew out the window the second you walked through the doors.

Because standing near the entrance, tray in hand, was Heeseung.

Your jaw dropped. “You? Wait. You work here?”

His eyes went wide as they landed on you, like you’d just punched him in the gut. “Y/n-? Yeah. Part-time.”

��You never told me-”

“I did,” he muttered, flushing and avoiding your gaze. “Maybe you just didn’t listen.”

You blinked, thrown off. “Since when?”

“Since-… whatever.” His voice was clipped, like he was trying too hard to act unaffected. “Needed the money. Free food. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you could respond, someone from the back called out: “Lee! Table 7!”

He exhaled through his nose, already turning away. “Gotta go. Enjoy your date.”

And just like that, he was gone again. Vanishing between tables, his apron swaying as he moved. You barely had time to process it when Vicky waved you over. She was already seated with another girl you knew, makeup perfect, and surrounded by three guys. One of whom slid a drink toward you as you sat down.

The night crawled forward.

Your date was… fine.

Well, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was cute. Tall. Had that clean-cut kind of look, the kind you’re supposed to want. The kind that makes your friends nudge you under the table and whisper “Okay, not bad.” And he was nice, in a way that felt... practiced? Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Smiled on cue. Laughed when he was supposed to. Asked questions, but only the easy ones, your major, your favorite movie, if you liked dogs or cats. Surface-level stuff. Like we were speedrunning a personality quiz.

You nodded. Smiled. Even laughed a few times. But it didn’t feel like anything.

The whole time, your brain kept running in circles. You kept comparing everything he did to Heeseung, without meaning to. Without even realizing I was doing it at first.

Like when he leaned in and grinned that too-perfect smile? All you could think about was how Heeseung’s smile was kind of lopsided and usually only came out when he was genuinely amused. The real kind. The one where his nose scrunches a little and he tries to hide it behind his hand like it’s embarrassing.

Or when your date started talking about his internship and humblebragging like it was his whole personality. Meanwhile, Heeseung would rather choke than talk about himself like that. He’s so annoying about hiding how hard he works, like it’s something to be ashamed of. But at least when he says something, you know it means something.

And then there was this moment. God, it was so dumb, when your date reached across the table and tried to brush something off your sleeve, real casual. Like in the dramas. Except it didn’t feel sweet. It felt…wrong.

Because your first instinct wasn’t butterflies.

It was Heeseung would’ve made fun of me first.

He would’ve been like, “You wore that? You look like you lost a bet.” And then when you’d pout and hit his arm, he’d sneakily fix whatever it was while you were distracted. That was just how we were.

But this guy? He kept making these flirty comments toward Vicky like you weren’t sitting right there. At one point, he asked her what kind of guys she liked, while you were talking midsentence. Like, what are you? A chair?

And you just sat there, drinking your watered-down cocktail, smiling through your teeth while your insides twisted into knots.

Because the real reason you weren’t having fun?

Wasn’t the bad flirting.

Wasn’t the recycled jokes.

Wasn’t the fact that you had more chemistry with the damn napkin holder.

It was because he wasn’t Heeseung.

He didn’t get under your skin the same way. He didn’t make your heartbeat stumble just by looking in your direction. He didn’t have that stupid habit of calling you by a nickname only he could get away with. He didn’t make you want to argue just so you could hear him talk back.

He didn’t make you feel like yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part. Sitting across from someone perfectly decent, someone that everyone else would probably think is a catch, and realizing that the only person you wanted to talk to about it... was the same person you were trying so hard not to think about.

And it sucked. Because you didn’t know what that meant.

Not really.

You just knew you were halfway through a third drink, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at a guy who wasn’t him. And the whole time, your eyes kept drifting to where Heeseung was working across the room.

Not looking at you once.

And that’s when it hit you.

Maybe he was trying not to look too.

By the time dessert came around, you were on your fifth glass of whatever fruity cocktail they'd ordered for you. The alcohol was warm in your stomach, and your thoughts were a slow spin cycle. You laughed at your date’s joke, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It didn’t reach your heart.

Because part of you was still stuck at your front door, with Heeseung not saying what you both knew he wasn’t ready to admit.

When the night finally wound down, the group staggered toward the exit. You tried to play it cool, but your legs were shaky and your head swam.

You didn’t even notice you were stumbling until a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, watch it.” Heeseung’s voice, low and sharp with concern, cut through the noise like a tether. “You’re seriously drunk.”

You looked up at him, lips pouting as your balance wobbled again. “The date sucked,” you mumbled. “He was annoying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You were laughing. You looked fine.”

“I wasn’t.”

He cursed under his breath and guided you to a bench near the side of the restaurant. You slumped down, grateful for something solid. He knelt in front of you, one hand on your knee to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked, quieter now. “Did he do something?”

You shook your head lazily. “No, just...”

There was a long pause, way too long like your brain and your heart were fighting against each other.

“He wasn’t you.” Ah. Now we know who won.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and the way his expression shifted for just a fraction of a second told you he didn’t expect that. But Heeseung quickly masked it, shrugging nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter.

“Right,” he muttered, almost too quickly. “Well, you’re really drunk. Don’t go saying weird stuff.” He stood up slightly, glancing at the rest of the group in the distance, then back at you.

You didn’t want to let it slide. “You’re acting different,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing as you stared up at him, trying to focus. “You’re being... too considerate. Like I’m someone special, and I don’t like it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice quieter, a little more strained than usual. “You’re barely keeping yourself upright. What do you want me to do, huh?”

You didn’t back down. “I want you to stop being nice,” you said, your voice slurred but clear enough. “It’s confusing. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

There was a long, tense pause, and you almost didn’t notice it, but the way his face softened for just a second made your heart skip. He stood there, his posture stiff, but his eyes were searching yours, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual mask.

“Why?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you could tell it caught him off guard. “Why does it bother you?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the raw honesty of the moment, but you decided to let the words spill before you could stop them.

“Because if you keep being nice to me like this... I might-” you murmured, the weight of the confession crashing over you as the words slipped out. “I might actually start liking you.”

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Heeseung froze, his expression unreadable. You felt your body sag with the realization of what you’d just said, and the alcohol finally hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred as your head dropped back against the bench, and before you could even process the weight of your own words, your body gave out.

You didn’t even hear Heeseung call your name. You just felt his hands steadying you, but everything went black.

Everything that followed was a haze.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember being moved. But when your eyes blinked open, the light stung a little, and you were surrounded by something familiar, but not yours.

It took a second to realize you were in Heeseung’s bed.

You were curled up on top of his thin comforter, a lighter blanket tossed over your shoulders like an afterthought. His scent lingered faintly on the pillow beneath you. It smelled like clean laundry, hints of shampoo, and something distinctly him. The room was dim, lit only by the soft morning light peeking through slatted blinds.

Across the room, you spotted him, Heeseung, sitting at his desk, back to you, headphones on as he typed slowly on his laptop. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in places. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before.

You shifted slightly, and that was all it took.

He immediately swiveled around in his chair. Headphones off, brows pulled together. “Hey,” he said, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

He was already kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes searched your face. “How do you feel? Water and aspirin…” he reached toward his desk, grabbing a bottle and a little foil pack, “…ready to go.”

You took them, muttering a tired thank you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. Everything felt weirdly fragile, like the air was too loud.

“What a mess.. why am I remembering…” you rubbed your temples, “Vicky. Telling me she’d scare off my date.”

Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile, carefully neutral. “She did.” You let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t do or say anything... regrettable, right?” His expression flickered. Just for a second. A crack.

“Regrettable?” he repeated quickly. “Nah, nothing like that. You were just… rambling. Typical drunk stuff.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I brought you back here ‘cause you couldn’t go home like that. And I figured, y’know… better I make sure you’re okay than leave you to die in a bush or something.”

You snorted. “Very noble of you.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, stiff. “Seriously though, I swear, nothing weird happened. You knocked out like, instantly. I made sure you didn’t choke in your sleep or whatever. That’s it.”

You nodded slowly, watching him as you sipped the water. “Nothing else?”

There was a pause. Barely a beat. He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” You said nothing. Just nodded again.

Because you did remember. The moment before it all faded. The way your heart pounded. The words that escaped you.

You remembered what you said to him. Clear as day.

Heeseung looked visibly relieved that you didn’t push it further. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should probably go home though. Rest somewhere more… homey. Real food, maybe not just painkillers.”

You hesitated. Then quietly, “Can I stay? Just for a little while.” His eyes widened.

“I know I’m probably being annoying, but I just…can’t really go home like this yet.” You picked at the blanket, looking down. “Also, the date was shit...I wanna distract myself from thinking of it.” Heeseung blinked. The expression on his face shifted from surprise to something gentler.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Of course you can stay.”

He sat down next to you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he should. You could feel the warmth of him, even without touching.

“So,” he asked, carefully, “what happened? Was he a jerk or something?”

There was something off in his tone. A casual mask trying to cover the edge of something rawer.

You shrugged. “He was full of himself. Talked about himself the whole time. Kept flirting with Vicky right in front of me.” You glanced at him. “It was pathetic, honestly.”

Heeseung’s entire expression darkened. Jaw clenched. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “He did that in front of you?” You nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered, then immediately seemed to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s just-God, what a dumbass.”

You could feel something bubbling beneath his words. He was angry. More than just offended on your behalf. There was something personal in the way he said it.

“I didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said under your breath.

“Oh?” he said quickly. “Then why go on the date?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on. That I didn’t-” You bit your lip. “Never mind.” He watched you closely.

“Didn’t what?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Forget it.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall beside the bed. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you deserve someone way better than that loser. Someone who… actually listens. Knows you.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You turned to him. “You speak from experience?”

He smiled crookedly. “Something like that.”

There was a quiet stretch. Neither of you spoke.

Then, on impulse, you asked, “Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

He looked at you like you just offered to buy him a yacht. “Really?”

“Yeah. You took care of me, so let me return the favor.”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“I mean, you’ll probably complain about the food, but-”

“Oh, absolutely. You have terrible taste.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the blanket off as you stood. “Can I shower?”

Heeseung blinked. “Shower?”

“Yeah. You’ve got clean towels, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cabinet under the sink.” He was already standing up, rummaging through a drawer.

“Here. Take this.” He held out a folded t-shirt and a pair of his joggers. “These should fit, I think.” You took them, holding back a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

He flushed, then made a face. “Just don’t use all my conditioner. That shit’s expensive.”

You ducked into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly masking the sound of your laugh.

Left alone, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, covering his face with his arm. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

Everything about you lately was driving him insane.

Ten minutes later, you emerged, towel-drying your hair and wearing his clothes. The t-shirt was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him. The joggers sat comfortably low on your hips.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

You nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, then.”

You walked side by side. Close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed against yours a few times, just barely.

“Watch it,” you muttered after the third time.

“Not my fault,” he said, not looking at you. “You keep drifting.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When you reached the restaurant, he pulled open the door. “Go,” he said, flicking his chin. “Before you embarrass yourself trying to yank this open.”

“Wow,” you scoffed. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Inside the little restaurant, it was quiet. Just the low hum of a fan overhead and the occasional clink of cutlery from the kitchen. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your skin. Heeseung sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table with a soft groan.

He picked up the laminated menu and scanned it half-heartedly. “This place is always weirdly cold.”

You shrugged, fingers idly tracing the edge of your water glass. “Better than it being stuffy. I can’t think when it’s hot.”

“You can’t think when you’re cold either,” he pointed out, flipping the menu upside down like the food choices might change.

You smirked. “I can’t think around you, period.” He looked up. Blinked.

You hadn’t meant to say that.

“I mean-when you’re being annoying,” you added quickly, eyes dropping to the menu like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. “You’re distracting.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, voice teasing. “Nice save.”

You made a face at him. He just chuckled and leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression again. Half amused, half something else.

A waitress came by, took your orders, then disappeared just as quickly.

For a while, neither of you said much. You busied yourself with your straw wrapper, folding it into tight little knots. He watched your hands. Then the window. Then you again.

Finally, he asked, “So. Last night.”

You didn’t look up. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just… didn’t expect it to bother me as much as it did.” That made you glance at him.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?” you said carefully.

He let out a short breath. “Yeah. That was… not my finest moment.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Why though?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ran a hand through his hair.

“It was just… weird. Seeing you with someone else. Even if it was just a date.”

You tilted your head. “Weird how?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed softly against the table.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I thought I’d be fine. Like, of course you’re gonna date. That’s normal. But then I saw you standing there with him, and I just-” He exhaled sharply. “It was weird as hell.”

Your throat felt tight. “Heeseung…”

He shook his head, like he regretted saying anything at all. “I’m not trying to make this about me. I just… I care. Okay? Maybe more than I should.” That landed heavier than you expected.

You looked down again. At your straw wrapper. At the water beading on your glass.

“I didn’t like being there,” you admitted, voice low. “The whole thing felt off from the start. Like I was pretending.”

He looked up at that.

“Pretending what?”

“That I wanted to be there. That I didn’t already…” You hesitated. The words felt too big all of a sudden. Too close to something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to say.

“Already what?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, careful smile. “Already know what I want.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then nodded slowly, like he understood just enough.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore.

The food arrived, and the moment passed. You both shifted back to easier conversation. Complaining about portion sizes, laughing at how they overcooked his egg, making jabs about your weird sauce preferences.

No one said it, but you both felt it.

It wasn’t a confession. Not exactly.

After the plates were cleared and the bill had been paid, you both just sat there nursing the last of your drinks, your fingers lazily stirring the melting ice around with your straw. Neither of you seemed in a rush to leave.

Heeseung glanced out the window, squinting slightly at the soft morning light filtering in. “It’s still early,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that made his voice raspy. “Wanna walk around? There’s that park nearby… you know, the one with the stupidly big ducks.”

You snorted. “The ones that hiss at people?”

“Yeah. You like danger, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grabbing your bag. “Fine. But if I get chased, I’m sacrificing you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he held the door open for you. The morning breeze was crisp, brushing past your cheeks and ruffling his hair a little. He didn’t bother fixing it.

The walk wasn’t far. It was one of those sleepy neighborhood parks. Just a few worn benches, an old slide, some trees that were finally blooming again. You found an empty bench in the shade and plopped down with a sigh; your legs grateful for the break. Heeseung sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

For a while, there wasn’t much said. Just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional squawk of an aggressive duck, and the distant bark of someone’s dog.

Then, without warning, you glanced sideways and asked, “Anyways, why did you lie when you said you told me about your part-time job?”

Heeseung blinked like you’d thrown cold water on him.

He looked at you, a little startled. “Huh?”

“You told me you already mentioned it,” you said, leaning back against the bench, casual but still watching him. “But I swear you didn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with a napkin he'd absently tucked into his pocket.

“It’s just a part-time job, you know? Nothing special.” You didn’t say anything, waiting.

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his lap. “To be honest, I was kinda embarrassed about it. Figured you'd make fun of me for working at some random diner.”

You raised a brow. “Why would I make fun of you for that?”

He chuckled dryly. “I dunno. I guess I thought you’d see it and think I peaked in high school or something.” He finally met your gaze, sheepish. “Guess I should’ve known better. Since when do you judge people based on stuff like that?”

You cracked a grin. “Well, I’d definitely make fun of how you look while working. But not where or why.”

That made him laugh, really laugh, and you caught a glimpse of his canines when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then, maybe a little too comfortable, you added, “You looked good in that uniform though.” Your mouth shut a second too late.

Heeseung blinked. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he ducked his head, hiding the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying for cool but fumbling it. “You... noticed?”

You cleared your throat, willing your face not to burn. “Just saying. It suited you.”

“I thought I looked stupid in it,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Like... cartoon diner boy vibes.”

“You always look stupid,” you said, trying to mask the compliment. “But, like, stupidly good in that uniform. Somehow.”

He turned to you fully now, a full grin spreading across his face. “Stupidly good, huh?” he echoed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” “Go with flattered,” you muttered.

He laughed softly. “I will then. Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Then he tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, remember that bet we made in middle school? That if neither of us found anyone by thirty, we’d just marry each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t think you still remembered that.”

“Of course I do,” he said through a mouthful of whatever snack he’d bought from the park’s sad vending machine. “How could I forget such a ridiculous deal?”

He leaned in a little, his voice playful but low. “Plus, it gives me ten years to write a killer speech for stealing you away. Gotta make it memorable.”

“Ew.” You groaned, half-laughing, half-wanting to throw him off the bench. “You’re so cheesy. Stop! You of all people actually being okay with that is insane.”

Heeseung held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll tone it down.” But the smile didn’t leave his face.

Then his voice dipped, not teasing now. Softer. “But seriously. You’d rather end up with some stranger over someone who already knows you? Someone who’s been there... through everything?”

You looked at him, quiet.

He didn’t push. Just kept talking, like he was thinking out loud.

“Not saying I’d actually do it. But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Settling down with someone who already knows all your weird habits and still wants to sit on a park bench with you after diner shifts and awkward first dates?”

The question lingered between you, neither rhetorical nor rushed. It hung in the silence like a soft, open-ended maybe.

You didn’t answer right away. Because honestly, you didn’t know how to.

Instead, you just reached out and flicked the corner of the vending machine snack in his hand.

“I only agree if I get to write your vows.”

He blinked. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun overhead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, voice warm.

You leaned back, letting your shoulders relax against the bench, watching a pair of ducks waddle toward a group of toddlers.

Heeseung was still beside you, just close enough that your knees bumped occasionally. Not a big moment. Nothing dramatic.

But it felt like everything wasn’t quite the same anymore.

So why are you letting it?

The next few days passed normally, with a tinge of peculiarity. You and Heeseung still bickered, still teased and jabbed at each other, but the edge was gone. Things had softened. Like the air had changed after a storm but neither of you wanted to talk about the lightning that had struck.

He'd text you late at night, just a meme or a weird video. You'd answer immediately, even if you were halfway through brushing your teeth. Sometimes he'd swing by the dental building just to walk you to the bus stop. You pretended not to notice the way your heart started doing gymnastics in your chest whenever he leaned a little too close or smiled a little too long.

Nothing had really changed. Except that everything had.

You didn’t dare bring up what he’d said at the breakfast place. The whole "settling down with your best friend" thing. You weren’t sure if he was serious. Heeseung had always joked like that. Always known how to toe the line. But lately, it felt like the line was erasing itself. You didn’t want to risk crossing it too soon.

And then suddenly, it was just a month before the university’s Interdisciplinary Festival. You could feel it in the shift of the campus vibe. Flyers everywhere, group chats buzzing, department chairs acting more high-strung than usual. You weren’t directly involved. Dentistry didn't usually have flashy showcases. Your part was more behind the scenes, coordinating with allied health orgs, preparing booths, boring but practical stuff.

But Performance Arts? That department lived for this. And Heeseung, being a third-year in Movement and Expression, had one of the biggest showcases lined up.

You only heard about it by accident.

You were on the library steps with your friend Hyejin, eating ice cream like it wasn’t ten in the morning. She was scrolling through her phone, showing you some video of someone absolutely bombing their tap dance final, when she went, "Oh my god, wait. You know Heeseung’s partnered with Yeri, right?"

You blinked. "Partnered for what?"

Hyejin tilted her head like it was obvious. "The interdisciplinary showcase. Their final’s a partner performance piece. Live. Like, full-blown duet. Probably something emotional and contemporary."

You laughed, even though your fingers tightened slightly around your spoon. "Sounds dramatic."

She shrugged. "Kinda hot, though. I mean, those two together? They’re gonna look insane on stage. Everyone’s already talking about it. People are betting on whether they’re gonna kiss in the final scene."

Your laugh this time came out too sharp. "Betting? Seriously?"

"It’s the Performance Arts kids. They make everything theatrical. But yeah, it’s all over the department forums. Some freshman even made a Yeri x Heeseung hashtag. It’s gross."

You scoffed, trying to play it off. "Heeseung’s probably dying of embarrassment. He hates that kind of attention."

But your stomach was sinking. Not because of Yeri, not exactly. Yeri was nice. Really fucking nice. And she and Heeseung made sense on paper. Both were tall, talented, and conventionally attractive. They moved in the same artistic circles. They shared a language you’d never really spoken. The idea of them being shipped together wasn’t surprising. It was reasonable.

And maybe that’s what made it worse.

You didn’t say anything to Heeseung at first. Not when he texted you a blurry selfie of himself trying on a costume for rehearsal. Not when he showed up at your library table the next day with a mango smoothie like he always did.

But you noticed the changes. Subtle things. He was always tired now. Rehearsals were eating up his evenings. He’d started humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath. And once, just once, you caught the faint scent of Yeri’s perfume clinging to his hoodie when he leaned over to help you fix your cracked phone screen.

You didn’t even flinch. You just smiled and handed him the new glass. Like always.

Until the cracks finally showed.

It was Friday evening. You’d both ended up on campus late—him from rehearsal, you from a late lab session. He found you sitting by the vending machines, legs curled up on the bench, eyes glued to your notes.

"You look like you haven’t blinked in an hour," he said, tossing you a small snack pack.

"You look like you got hit by a lighting rig," you shot back, eyeing his sweat-soaked hair.

He grinned. But it was tired. Too tired.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel comforting. Tonight, it felt like holding your breath.

You nudged his knee. "So. The duet."

He stiffened slightly. Not a flinch, but close.

"Ah. That." He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You heard, huh?"

You nodded, keeping your tone light. "Whole school has, apparently. You two trending yet?"

He groaned. "Don’t even. Some sophomore tried to interview us for the school paper. I told them to interview my foot instead."

You snorted. "Nice."

Heeseung scratched at his temple. "It’s not that serious, y’know. Just an assignment. Yeri’s chill. She’s focused. No drama."

You stared at him. "You don’t think it’s a big deal?"

He looked at you then, really looked. And for a moment, the easy smile slipped.

"I didn’t say that," he said quietly. "Just... I didn’t ask for her. We were paired. It’s not like I had a choice."

You tried not to react. "Right. Makes sense."

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed a little, studying your expression. "Why? Does it bother you?"

You shrugged. "Why would it? It’s your class. You’re doing what you have to do."

There was a pause. Something taut stretched between you, neither of you daring to pull too hard.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fidget with your notebook. "But it’s bothering you, right?"

You didn’t look up, focusing on the paper in front of you. "I didn’t say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn’t. But you’re kind of wearing it on your face."

You huffed, flipping a page in your notebook, trying to avoid the growing tension. "I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it."

Heeseung chuckled softly, but there was a quiet seriousness behind it. "I’m not making a big deal. You are."

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t give in. "I’m not. Just-" You paused, scratching your pen over the paper more harshly than you intended. "It’s just different, okay? I’m used to having you around, not just in passing. And now… it’s like you’re always somewhere else, in some other world. I don’t know, maybe I forgot what that feels like."

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too quiet. Heeseung adjusted in his seat, clearly thinking about what you said. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your gaze fixed downward, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but with a hint of something almost... understanding. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been so used to me being around all the time that now it feels weird."

You stiffened, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I’m not saying it’s a problem."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not the best at explaining things, you know that?"

"Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything feel like a thing, it’d be easier to explain."

There was another wave of silence, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as tense. Heeseung shifted again, this time reaching over to poke your arm lightly. "Alright, alright. I get it. You miss me or whatever."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I don’t miss you, I just-" You stopped yourself before you could say more, mentally cursing your own brain for letting that slip.

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung said, his voice now teasing but still light. "I know you’re just totally fine without me around."

You gave him a look, not bothering to respond. The familiar bickering felt oddly comforting, even if it didn’t solve anything. You could almost pretend like things weren’t shifting, that nothing had changed.

Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice quieter this time, not quite teasing but not completely serious either. "You know, I’m still here, right? Even if I’m not always right in front of you."

You glanced at him, but your gaze faltered quickly. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words, even though they weren’t as heavy as they could have been. "Yeah, I know. You just keep disappearing into your little world for hours."

Heeseung smirked, nudging your arm with his shoulder. "I come back. I always do."

You looked up at him, your expression softening, but you didn’t say anything. For a moment, it felt like there was more between the two of you than you wanted to admit.

Heeseung smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me."

The university’s interdisciplinary festival was the kind of event that had a little bit of everything: booths on oral health from the Dentistry department, sports exhibitions, and the inevitable Performance Arts showcases that would steal the spotlight, as they always did. Naturally, since the festival spanned multiple departments, each one had its role to play. It was a chaotic, messy combination of everything, but somehow, everything still managed to fall into place. Though not without a bit of stress.

Vicky, your very unfortunately good friend, was the one who dragged you into it.

“You’ve got to come help with the festival, please! I’m begging you!” Vicky had said that day, eyes wide with that slightly manic enthusiasm that usually meant trouble.

You’d wanted to refuse, but you owed her. Big time. You couldn’t exactly back out, not when she’d held a dirty little secret over your head for months. And there was the fact that she’d somehow convinced you to help her out when you’d lost a bet a while ago. This was your punishment, you guessed, helping her run around doing menial tasks for the festival. You sighed dramatically as you agreed, your inner voice grumbling about the mess you were about to step into.

“I’m only doing this because I owe you, Vicky,” you muttered, throwing on your jacket as you followed her to the sign-up table.

“I knew you’d come through,” she grinned widely, practically bouncing on her toes. You shook your head but didn’t argue.

Vicky was good at that, making you feel guilty enough to help her out without ever truly demanding it.

And so, you found yourself getting swept up into the logistics of the festival, running around with other volunteers from different departments. And as fate would have it, you ended up working directly with Yeri.

The thing about Yeri was… she was easy to like. At least, that’s how she came across. She was friendly. Polite. A little too nice at times, in a way that made you feel like she was always trying to read something between the lines. You didn’t know her well. But everyone else seemed to think she was this pure, sweet angel.

It was hard to deny, though, that something about her rubbed you the wrong way now. Maybe it was the way she smiled a little too brightly at you, or the way her eyes lingered on Heeseung just a little too long whenever he was nearby. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. At least, you didn’t want to think it was. But there was something unsettling about the ease with which she seemed to glide through everything, untouched and perfect.

And when you saw her, right there in the middle of it all, managing rehearsal coordination for the Performance Arts group, your stomach twisted in knots.

Her smile was so… practiced as she greeted you. Almost too perfect. She was standing by the entrance of the rehearsal room, clipboard in hand as people filtered in. She waved at you when she saw you approach with Vicky, and then stepped forward, offering a cool bottle of water in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you with a small smile. “It’s gonna be a long day. Stay hydrated.”

You took the bottle from her without a word, fighting the urge to scowl. Vicky, ever the optimist, nudged you with a grin before speaking up.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. You two go ahead and start getting familiar with the space. You’ll be fine, right?”

You barely had time to answer before Vicky disappeared, leaving you with her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding Yeri’s gaze. You were about to turn away, but then her voice stopped you, and you froze.

“So,” she said, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Are you and Heeseung… dating, or...?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to fight not to let it show. Your chest tightened, and you almost laughed to cover it up.

“No,” you said, as casually as possible, trying to shrug it off. “We’ve known each other forever.” You wanted to move past this. But Yeri wasn’t letting you off that easily.

“Oh.” Her eyes were deceptively innocent as she tilted her head, her smile soft but there was something unsettling about it. “So, you’re like… family, then?” And just like that, your stomach dropped.

Family. That word. The word that made it sound like nothing between you and Heeseung would ever be more than just what you already were. Not that you even wanted it to be more, right? At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as you awkwardly fumbled for a response.

You forced a smile, a tight thing that never quite reached your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. That’s one way to put it.”

Yeri didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. She smiled again, a little too warmly, and nodded as if that answer had satisfied her.

“Family, huh?” She repeated, almost to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t know why, but her words hit you like a punch in the gut. Something about them felt too sharp. Too intentional. It was like she was probing for something, trying to understand exactly how far the relationship between you and Heeseung went. You didn’t want to play her game, but she wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Right.” You swallowed and finally gave in, looking at her for a second before glancing away.

“Well, we’re not really… family, I guess. Just… friends.”

Her smile flickered, a glint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She nodded again, still too perfect, too calm.

“Right. Just friends.”

The tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, following you around like a shadow. You didn’t want to think about what Yeri’s words meant. Didn’t want to think about the fact that, in the back of your mind, they made you feel…small.

Before you could say anything else, someone shouted from across the room, calling for Yeri’s attention. She glanced back at you, giving you one final, soft smile.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she said, and with that, she turned away, leaving you standing there, feeling a little more unsettled than you had a moment ago.

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be angry at the way she’d managed to make you feel like you were something less than you were. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get upset. Not when you felt…stupid.

And maybe it was because of her. Or maybe it was because of the way your heart had stuttered when she’d asked about you and Heeseung. But either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was starting to change… again.

And it wasn’t just with her. It was with Heeseung, too.

For the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Yeri’s smile had never quite reached her eyes. The way her words seemed so carefully chosen, like she was testing you, seeing how you’d react. You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you knew it was something more than just curiosity.

And Heeseung? He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t know if it was the festival getting to you, or the fact that Yeri was always around, her presence like a quiet storm brewing in the background. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that the space between you and Heeseung was widening.

It had always been this easy with him. But now? Now, everything felt...complicated.

It had been a few days since that weird conversation with Yeri. Since that almost-smile you gave her. Since her words, “So you’re like… family?” had been playing on repeat in your head like some cruel inside joke you didn’t know you’d signed up for.

You told yourself you were over it. Told yourself you were being dramatic. But the thing is, once a thought plants itself like that, it doesn’t go away. It twists. It grows teeth. It appears like a teratoma you saw in ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The thing about trying to shake something off is that it never really works when you're already spiraling. And after that whole almost-cordial conversation with Yeri a few days ago, the drink offering, the “you’re like family?” line, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it had been hard not to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t mean anything. People asked offhand questions all the time. Yeri didn’t know better.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew a loaded question when you heard one.

Still, you’d managed to push it down. Not away, just barely under the surface, like stuffing a drawer that wouldn’t quite close. You buried yourself in classwork, in shift hours, in helping Vicky plan her chaos of a booth for the Interdisciplinary Festival. She’d somehow roped you into printing tarpaulin designs and labeling props for a dental hygiene game that involved questionable puppet mascots and glitter glue.

And maybe it was easier to be annoyed at Vicky than to sit still long enough to think about how things felt different lately.

Heeseung hadn’t been avoiding you, no. If anything, he was still... around. Still showing up outside your building with a coffee when you didn’t ask, still bumping his knee against yours under the table during lunch, still sending reels at 2am with a “this is you when you’re hungry” caption.

But something had shifted.

Maybe it was you.

Or maybe it was that you noticed the shift more now that Yeri had stepped out of the periphery and into your shared spaces.

It was a late Thursday afternoon when it happened. The hallway leading to the studio wing was mostly quiet, the usual buzz of activity softened by the fact that most departments were busy prepping their respective booths or showcases. You were carrying a stack of laminated activity cards, something Vicky insisted were “vital to audience engagement,” and cutting through the Performance Arts floor because it was a faster route back to your booth.

You didn’t mean to look.

Really, you didn’t.

You only turned your head because you heard music playing from the open studio door. It was something soft and rhythmic, a piano loop that sounded vaguely familiar. You would’ve kept walking if not for the glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. A flash of grey sweatpants.

A foot pivoting. The sound of a quiet laugh.

And there they were.

Heeseung and Yeri.

In the center of the studio, mid-run-through. You could tell from their breathing that they were nearing the end. Their movements were fluid, he reached for her wrist, spun her in close, and her hand landed on his shoulder like muscle memory. The music faded into its final notes. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her by the waist without missing a beat.

And then, still holding her, he laughed.

It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t intimate in the way people always imagined.

But it was close.

His forehead brushed hers as he chuckled, and she grinned back, flushed from movement, her hand still resting against his chest.

And just like that, the drawer inside you burst open.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the moment. You didn’t give it the grace of an ending. You turned before they could see you, before Heeseung could glance over and realize you’d been standing there like some pathetic cliché in a drama rerun.

The laminated cards dug into your fingers as you walked faster, then faster still, until the hallway blurred and your breath caught unevenly in your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Knew that this was rehearsal. Knew that Heeseung didn’t look at Yeri the way he looked at you when you were both cracking jokes in line for ramen, or when you were arguing over toothpaste flavors at the convenience store.

But knowing didn’t mean anything when your brain kept replaying that image. His hands on her waist, their laughter floating in sync, the ease of it all.

And the worst part?

The worst part was how normal it all looked.

How good they looked together.

You don’t remember walking down the stairs.

Your legs must’ve carried you out of the performance wing on autopilot, but your brain was stuck on loop, replaying the scene you weren’t supposed to see. The way he held her. The stupid laugh. That split second of closeness. You kept telling yourself it wasn’t even romantic, and yet here you were, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way back to the volunteer booth because your chest felt tight and hollow at the same time.

By the time you made it to the central quad, the heat in your ears had barely faded. Students were scattered across folding tables, tape guns snapping open, boxes getting unpacked.

Someone was blasting a speaker near the MedTech stall. It was all just noise.

You spotted Vicky instantly, perched like a gremlin on top of a chair, one leg folded under her as she furiously labeled laminated tags. Her drink was half-spilled next to a tangle of string lights. Typical.

You dropped the flyers in front of her with a little too much force.

Vicky flinched. “Damn. You tryna give me a paper cut to the throat or something?” You didn’t answer.

She peered at you, head tilted. “You good?” Still nothing.

Vicky blinked. “Okay, mood.”

You sat down wordlessly across from her, staring blankly at the label sheet.

After a beat, she gave you a look. “...You passed by the rehearsal studio, didn’t you?” That snapped your head up.

Your silence was enough of a confession.

Vicky hissed through her teeth. “I told you not to take the back hallway. Didn’t I literally say not to risk it today?”

“I wasn’t trying to spy,” you said stiffly. “It was just the fastest way. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well, yeah. No one expects to get punched in the gut by destiny.”

You frowned. “This isn’t some drama.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered, flicking a label onto a folder. “Because I’m pretty sure that looked a hell of a lot like the third-act misunderstanding in Twilight. You’re Bella. Yeri’s the romantic rival. Heeseung’s the-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Do not call him Edward.”

Vicky shrugged, deadpan. “I was gonna say Jacob, actually. But tomato, tomato.”

You shot her a glare, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your stomach was still twisted up, your chest still humming with that awful buzzing feeling. Like jealousy, but meaner. Heavier.

She studied you for a moment before softening, her voice dipping lower. “Look, I get it. I know it sucks. And I know you’re not gonna say it out loud, but you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I’m not-” You bit off the rest, jaw tight. “I’m not anything.”

Vicky gave you the most annoying knowing smile. “Sure. Which is why you’re out here nearly cracking a hole in my table.”

You folded your arms, but the motion felt defensive even to you.

She pressed. “Be real, though. Are you actually upset about the duet? Or about the fact that it looked... comfortable?” That landed.

You exhaled sharply and looked away. “It wasn’t even romantic.”

“But it could’ve been. If you didn’t know better.” Vicky leaned back in her chair. “That’s what stings the most, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She watched you for a second, then leaned forward, voice softer now. “Look. I know it’s easier to pretend it’s nothing. But I also know you. And you don’t look at people like that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard.

“Even if you can’t say it,” she added gently, “you feel it. That’s enough to make this kind of thing hurt.”

You stared down at the table. A breeze lifted one of the corner tags and fluttered it against your arm.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” you murmured. “Everyone knows they’re partnered. I thought I was fine. I was fine.”

“And then you saw it.”

You nodded, slowly. “He laughed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “And that’s the crime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… he laughed like it was easy. Like she belonged there. In his arms. I’ve seen him do duets before, but this...” You trailed off. Your throat felt tight.

“She’s good at what she does,” Vicky said, not unkindly. “And she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how she comes off.”

“I know.”

“She probably knows you’re watching, too.” You blinked at her.

“C’mon,” Vicky said, scoffing. “Yeri’s not dumb. She asked if you and Heeseung were dating in the most suspiciously casual way imaginable. You think she wasn’t testing the waters?”

You clenched your jaw, that old bitterness creeping back in. “She said we were like family.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Vicky sighed, sliding her drink over to you. “You want me to ‘accidentally’ trip and spill glitter on her head?”

You cracked a laugh. It was weak. Shaky. But real.

“I’m serious,” she said, straight-faced. “I’ll ruin her whole aesthetic. It’ll be glitterpocalypse.” “I appreciate the offer,” you mumbled.

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sounds of other students setting up around you, the distant hum of another speaker kicking on.

And then Vicky said, softer, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if you’re not dating him. Even if no one said anything out loud yet.”

You blinked fast. The backs of your eyes were starting to sting.

“But what if I’m just... reading too much into it?” you asked, voice quiet. “What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re… whatever we are?”

“You’re not,” Vicky said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just you.”

You stared at the tabletop, her words echoing in your chest like they wanted to stick but didn’t know where to land.

“Just don’t let this one moment undo everything you’ve built with him,” she added, nudging your hand. “You guys have history. Depth. That beats any choreography any day.” You nodded slowly, even though the ache hadn’t left. Not really.

But for now, you stayed.

You let Vicky drag you into more prep work, into stringing lights and faking jokes, into the chaos of your friendship, even while the image of Heeseung and Yeri refused to leave the back of your mind.

Even while the burn lingered.

Even while the question, the one you never said out loud, twisted deeper inside you:

If you were really his person...

Then why did it feel like he was learning to smile in someone else's direction?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

231 notes · View notes

dolcecherub · 3 days ago

Text

only girl in the world ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

❀ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

❀ tags: op81, dirty talk, nonchalant oscar lol, pining, smut, unprotected sex, miami gp, jealous oscar, start of relationship, mild usage of y/n, 18+

❀ yap: this is my first time writing for oscar as well as any f1 setting so lmk any feedback y’all have but i had so much fun writing this and i hope y’all like it!!

❀ very loosely based on the lyrics "I wanna make you beg for it Then I'ma make you swallow your pride," by Rihanna

❀ word count: 6.1k

The paddock was bustling with pre-sprint quali nerves and excitement, the Miami heat beating viciously. You sent a cheerful smile to Ollie, who walked past quickly, seemingly trying to get ready before he got in trouble. You let out an amused huff at the rookie’s antics and continued your way to the McLaren team area. Grabbing a stray biscuit from the various platters set up around the booth, you pulled your phone out from your pocket to check for any new messages or updates. Snacking on your biscuit, you wiped your hands on your jeans, making a mental note to respond to the few brand promotions that had come through.

It had been just over a year and a half since you had joined the McLaren team, aiding with PR and social media management. It was one hell of a journey, but you vividly remember your excitement after receiving the confirmation email that you had gotten the job for McLaren’s social media team. So many weeks of cup noodle dinners and managing marketing for smaller driving companies, but it had all been worth this exact moment. Basking in the sun before the Miami race weekend, working with people who were nothing but welcoming, frankly, it warmed your heart.

You felt an arm aggressively throw itself over your shoulders, causing you to jolt forward a bit in shock as you turned to see who it might be. Seeing Lando’s beaming smile staring down at you settled your nerves as you returned a grin. “Hi Lando, how was your week?’ You asked, placing a hand on his back in a friendly manner. You had grown quite close with both of the McLaren drivers, being able to have hours of laughter with Lando. Setting foot on the Formula 1 scene, similar to when Oscar had, allowed you two to grow close as well; however, he was far less touchy than Lando, less chatty, and less expressive. The more you thought about it, perhaps he didn’t actually like you as much as you thought.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of that thought, as Lando responded, “Not bad, y/n, excited for the weekend. Happy to be catching a tan,” He says with a laugh. You snorted, always shocked at how easily Lando managed to tan. It did wonders for him, not that he wasn’t already handsome, frankly, both the McLaren boys were. “I wish I could tan half as well as you do, imagine me all sun-kissed.” You joked, swishing your hair sarcastically as Lando laughed. “At least you’ve got a better tan going than Oscar, man's still as pale as he is in the winter,” Lando jokes, loudly enough that it catches Oscar’s attention from just around the corner of the booth. “Heard that mate, watch it!” Oscar yelled back before returning to his conversation with an engineer.

Oscar was wearing a simple pair of black shorts with the McLaren jersey clinging to his fit frame. His hair sat neatly and soft, freshly cut from what you could tell. His arms were crossed, brows furrowed from the sun as he conversed, nodding along every now and then with a small smile.

It was the first time you had seen him this weekend, and your breath hitched a little, something that became increasingly common as you saw in the last few months. You’re not quite sure when it began, presumably sometime at the end of the 2024 season. You recall the end of the 2024 season, although neither driver had won the championship, McLaren itself winning the Constructors’ Championship called for celebration. Watching calm and collected Oscar drunkenly ramble and giggle to Lando seemed endearing. His cheeks flushed at his intoxication and warmth in the air, hair tousled from trying to keep it out of his face. He looked beautiful, you thought, nursing a drink. You locked eyes with Oscar as he slung an arm around Lando, shooting you a winning smile, lopsided and sheepish as he winked. Since then, you’ve been a lost cause. Stealing glances at him around the paddock, cheering a little louder when he wins a race, feeling your heart speed up when he’s in high-stress situations. It needed to stop, this infatuation needed to be dealt with before it became too much. Of course, Oscar wasn’t interested like that. Just friendly.

You returned your attention to Lando and continued with light conversation before both the McLaren boys were swept away for pre-race interviews. You checked your wristwatch, seeing the clock push just over 4:00 as the drivers began making their way into their garages and putting on their suits. You chatted with another crew member moving towards the garages yourselves, as media teams bustled around the booths.

Your eyes landed yet again on Oscar, pulling on his black balaclava, biceps bulging as his race suit hung folded off his hips. You felt your heart speed up at the sight, his muscles rigid through his clothing. Your mind drifts to the thought of your nails scratching down Oscar’s back or grabbing his biceps as he hovers over you. You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring till his eyes caught yours, dark and focused. You looked away quickly, cheeks surely flushing pink as you tried to resort to casual conversation elsewhere.

☆.｡.:*

Sprint qualifying was definitely one for the books. You felt quite happy for Kimi and were excited for the McLaren drivers following. The hour following sprint qualifying was filled with interviewers hounding Lando and Oscar while attempting to update the media for McLaren accounts themselves. Excitement flowed through you at the liveliness of the Miami weekend, and you had high hopes for the boys this weekend.

You heard your stomach growl loudly, departing with the team begrudgingly as another team member insisted they would be able to finish up any media engagement necessary. Walking back towards the hotel, you pulled out your phone, checking any notifications before mindlessly scrolling through stories.

Dinner was short and sweet, chowing down a hearty bowl of pasta and nursing a glass of red wine from a local restaurant neighbouring the hotel. The walk back was beautiful, lights lining the streets and palm trees as the warm breeze comforted your skin, salt in the air heightening your senses.

Entering the hotel lobby, you headed towards the elevator, brushing your fingers through your hair, detangling any knots. A ding notified you that you reached your floor. Walking out, you fumbled around in your bag for your key card, walking towards your room. You heard footsteps approaching and looked up, catching sight of Oscar leaving his room, conveniently next to yours. You flashed him a smile as he glanced at you, returning the grin. The distance between you two grew smaller as you spoke. “Congratulations today.” You said to him, pausing in front of your hotel room. “Thank you,” He said, voice low and appreciative. The air seemed tense as your nerves settled. You fumbled to regrab your key card before facing the door. “Hopefully tomorrow’s even better, I’m expecting it.” You joked, flashing a small grin as you grabbed the door handle, turning your head towards him. He smirked, letting out a small chuckle, and you felt a sense of accomplishment. “I’ll do my best for you, yeah?” He teased back, your heart speeding up at his tone. You swiped your key card, turning the handle and opening the door. “Goodnight, Oscar.” You spoke lightly, sparing him one last glance. “Goodnight, y/n.” He said, walking away towards the elevator.

Closing the door, you bit your lip, dropping your bag near the entrance. You shook your head. You couldn’t possibly be smitten by such a short interaction with a man who surely didn’t think twice about you. Grabbing a pair of pyjamas, you snuck in a quick shower, and prepared yourself for bed. Climbing into bed, you set an alarm for the morning before cozying up and drifting off to sleep with the smell of salty air.

☆.｡.:* sunday - race day ☆.｡.:*

Saturday had gone well for the team, the McLaren boys scoring a double podium on the Miami sprint. You remember cheering loudly, seeing Oscar send you a grin following his podium. You giggled at the subtlety of it and continued celebrating the extra points. Race qualifying had ended well for Lando and a little less exciting for Oscar, but still great overall, sending them both a thumbs up in passing as you were whisked away into posting and media management with the team.

Sunday was going well so far, pre-race nerves definitely settling into some drivers despite the excitement of Miami. Engagement was fantastic, better than it had been in months, at least you were doing your job right, you thought sarcastically. Clouds had begun moving in but you had hoped they would split and avoid any rain and dangerous conditions.

The race itself was nerve-wracking and exciting, watching Oscar overtake Max with such confidence was riveting. The cheers from the paddock were undeniably loud as Oscar and Lando finished the race with yet again a 1-2 double podium. The Miami weekend had been a wonder for the McLaren team, and the team was bound to want to celebrate the wins. Interviews ensued with posts making appearances from all teams and drivers. You let out an embarrassing snort watching Oscar attempt the griddy, fulfilling his promise to Justin Jefferson. You were certainly going to tease him about that later.

As the excitement settled, you heard chatter of the team deciding where and how to celebrate the double 1-2 podiums and points from the weekend. Leave Miami with a bang. You snuck away into a more secluded section of the paddock, sipping water as you scrolled your phone, needing some time away.

“Did I meet your expectations?” A familiar voice teased. You felt the presence behind you as you shivered slightly despite the warm air. You turned slightly, causing your body to lean into his. Sending a teasing smile back, you spoke, “I’d say so, Osc, congratulations, especially on the three in a row.” Although it began teasingly, you were sincere in your praise. His smile softened, eyes fluttering happily. “Thanks,‘ppreciate it.”

“Gonna come out and celebrate with us, hm?” You asked, hopeful, eyes running over his face as he looked at you. “Yeah, probably gonna jump in the shower first, but might as well celebrate such a good weekend in Miami.” He chuckled out, a low rumble that warmed your chest. “Perfect, I’ll see you out then.” You winked, gaining a surge of confidence before walking away back towards the larger team huddled up.

☆.｡.:*

You bent over the bathroom counter, bringing your face closer to the mirror. A brown lip liner steady in hand as you lined your lips. You had tugged on the singular party outfit you had brought for the weekend, a simple navy lace top paired with a denim mini skirt. You layered necklaces and bracelets to accessorize a bit while keeping the makeup a bit simpler, with smoky liner and a dark lip. You had left your hair as it naturally dried, touching it up a little with your fingers. Another one of the girls on the team had lent you a pair of black knee-high boots, claiming it would complement the outfit perfectly. You had to admit it made your thighs look killer. Applying a bit of gloss and spritzing perfume, you grabbed your essentials before heading out of the room.

The team had decided on a club just a few blocks away from the hotel, making transport quite easy. You laughed with the team, enjoying the relaxed vibe compared to the intensity of the weekend. The club was busier than you had expected, but you had immediately spotted Lando near the bar. Walking closer, you noticed Oscar nursing a drink next to him, laughing at a joke Lando had made.

Placing a hand on his back, you stood a little taller, loudly congratulating Lando on his podium with a smile. He smiles back and offers a shot, which you down quickly, noticing Oscar’s gaze run down your throat as you tip the drink back, eyes dark. Your body shuddered before requesting another shot. Downing that, you returned to a few of the other girls on the dance floor and joined in.

Drinks came and went as you continued dancing, your mind feeling fuzzier. The bass reverberates in your chest, grounding you slightly.

♪baby I’ma say your aura is incredible♪

♪if you don’t have to go, don’t♪

Hands brushed your waist as you pulled yourself closer to the body, feeling drawn to the warmth, mind fuzzy with need.

♪do you know what you started? I just came here to party♪

Pushing yourself back against the body, his hands grabbed your waist, slowly sliding further down towards your hips. You reached a hand up, grabbing his neck, back flush with his chest as your head lulled back a bit.

♪but now we’re rockin’ on the dance floor, actin’ naughty♪

♪your hands around my waist, just let the music play♪

Swaying your hips, you spun your body around, arms going up around his neck as his hands tightened on your hips, chests pressed flush together. For the first time, you can see the face of the man you’re dancing with. He was handsome, slightly taller than you, with blue eyes intent on your face as his blond hair dropped in strands over his forehead.

♪we’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face♪

You bite your lip as his eyes follow the movement, eyes alight with desire. You continue to dance with him as he leans his head down, mouth close to your ear. You glance over his shoulder, his chest incessantly pressing against yours, as your eyes lock with Oscar’s a few feet away. His expression is neutral, but you see his jaw tick as his eyes zero in on the man's hands. The man is whispering something to you, and your body shivers. Not from what he had said, but rather how Oscar was looking at you.

“...d’you say?” You heard the man ask, not quite catching the first part of his question. “Sorry?” You said, breathlessly, bringing your attention back to his face. “Really are drunk aren’t you babe,” He teased, your mouth souring at the nickname. “Asked if you wanted to leave this place.” He reiterated, his hand grabbing your ass as he smirked. You slid your hands off his shoulders and took a quick step back, stumbling slightly. Shaking your head, “No, I-I’m good, thanks.” You hiccuped out, he rolled his eyes, hands pushing you off, suddenly offended at your reaction. Clicking his teeth with his tongue, he walked away towards the bar. You felt a sense of relief at his reaction, grateful it wasn’t worse.

Your eyes followed him, noticing a lack of Oscar near the bar. You scanned the club, trying to find him and failing. You took a breath, your head feeling dizzy from the drinks, as you decided it was probably time to head back to the hotel. Leaving the club, the fresh air did well to steady the fuzziness a little as you stumbled back towards the hotel.

You rummaged through your bag for your key card as you rode the elevator. Reaching your door, you swiped the key card and tried turning the handle. A red flash appeared, signalling you to try again, and so you did. Again, the handle refused to turn. Frustratedly, you tried again, swiping the key card slowly before jiggling the handle angrily. Your toes slightly hurt from the boots, your mind still a bit blurry, but far more sober than before. You let out an annoyed huff as the door swung open. You took a step back, eyes widening, your head whipped to the next door, and you read the number, realizing you had been trying to open the wrong door. Your head turned back to the person who opened the door.

Of course. It was comedic, really.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice low and seemingly tired. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I-,” You stuttered, cheeks flushing a bit in embarrassment as his arms crossed over his chest. “Congratulations today, you were incredible out there.” You spoke truthfully, unsure of what to say.

“Like you actually care,” He scoffed, grabbing the handle to the door. Your brows furrowed at his words. What was he talking about? “Seemed quite busy celebrating my win.” He said sourly. “What are you talking about?” You asked, confused.

“Surprised he didn’t come home with you.” Pondering for a second before it clicked. He was talking about the guy from the club, “We were dancing.” You laughed out, smiling. “You were all over him, enjoying yourself.” Oscar’s expression was stone-cold. “And you looked like a child sulking in the corner.” You snapped, “So I guess we both saw what we wanted.”

That hit, jaw clenching as he looked away. You took a step forward. “Why do you care who I spend my time with? You can’t spend all season avoiding me and acting like I don’t exist, and then get jealous over me. Who do you think you are?” You snapped, cheeks flushing with anger.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling. You kept going, your thoughts spewing out at a mile a minute. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you all season, I’ve tried to get along with you, and you look like you want nothing to do with me. So what!? You basically avoid me all season til some guy puts his hands on me an-”

“Fuck’s sake, I like you!” Oscar exclaimed exasperatedly, interrupting your tangent. It was like a bucket of ice water showering your body. Your mouth shut quickly, opening again to say something, but no words formed.

“I- fuck, forget it. You’re drunk.” He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the already messy locks.

“I’m not, not like I was.” You emphasized.

“Go back to your room y/n,” Oscar spoke sternly, looking away.

“Did you mean it?” You asked, your voice quiet compared to your outburst. He stayed silent, eyes scanning your face as your heart dropped to your stomach. You bit your lip nervously, his eyes following the movement wantonly.

You took a breath, lowering your gaze. “Either you tell me you meant it and say it again, or I leave and we never have to talk about this again.” You posed, his eyes locking in on your eyes.

His silence is your answer. You turn to walk next door, chest aching.

It all happens quite fast.

Oscar grabs your wrist, pulling you back as he steps forward, his lips landing on yours. You freeze up for a second as his lips move. Dropping your purse, you stand a bit taller, wrapping your arms around his neck, reciprocating the fervour of his kiss. His arms snake around your waist, leaning into the kiss as if he’s been starved. His teeth nibble your bottom lip before his tongue pokes out, running over your bottom lip, soothing the bite.

You pull back from the kiss, letting out a sigh, his face still close to yours. His cheeks are flushed as he catches his breath, leaning his forehead on yours and closing his eyes. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Osc…” You whispered, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as if you'd disappear.

“I’ve liked you since my first grand prix win, when you yelled louder than anyone on the team and raced around the paddock congratulating and thanking everyone.” Your breath hitched, the 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix, which was months ago. He ran his tongue over his lips, eyes opening to catch yours.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked breathlessly, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment.

“What could I have said? you’re on the team I didn’t wanna ruin anything, and surely you’re going to regret this in the morning so actually I’ve just fucked everything.” He rambled. Your heart leapt, his usual calm and collected demeanour replaced by one of vulnerability. Your heart ached with excitement.

“So you were avoidant and acted like a dick because you liked me?” You laughed out, finding the mere circumstance of it outrageous. He nodded solemnly, “You’re such a boy!” You teased, turning around and shutting the door to the hotel room with a slight slam. His arms tightened subconsciously.

“I’m not going anywhere, Osc, I promise.” You placed a light kiss on his cheek before bringing your mouth close to his ear. “I like you too, you know.” You whispered.

Leaning back, you looked at him, “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You can see him smirk, finding pride in your confession as your body pressed against his. Although he’s smirking, he still seems shy, “Yeah?”

You nod, biting your lip before placing your lips back on his, missing the feeling. He kisses back with hunger, one hand coming up to cup your face and the other squeezing your hip. You reach a hand up from his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently as he groans. His thumb reaches slightly, pulling your chin, your lips parting to allow his tongue to slide against yours. You let out a whimper at the action, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. His hand slid up your waist, breaching the edge of your top and grabbing you closer.

His lips trailed down, kissing your jaw and down towards your neck, suckling lightly and nibbling while soothing the sting with his tongue, placing a kiss on the mark. He scraped his teeth along your neck, placing soft kisses, his breath heavy as you let out a whine. You toed off the painful boots, pushing them to the side as you lost a few inches in height. Oscar looked at you, lips red and bitten, your eyes were blown out from desire as you tugged his shirt.

“Fuck, y/n. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted you like this.” He groaned into your neck. “If we do this, that’s that, I’m not letting you go.”

“Let me be yours, Oscar.” You spoke, tugging at his hair.

It was as if a switch had flipped inside of him, and any restraint he had completely vanished. Pulling back, he nudged your body towards the bed, getting the hint, you walked towards the bed. Oscar walked the other way, much to your dismay, locking the door and bringing your purse closer to the nightstand. The gesture warming your heart despite the frown on your face.

“I’m coming, baby,” He reassured, walking closer and pushing you back onto the bed as you got comfy.

“Not yet,” You joked, giggling as he let out a chuckle.

Oscar hovered over you, hands beside your head, propping himself up, scanning your face, he placed a delicate kiss on your lips. “You’re beautiful.”

Your heart sped up at the compliment, cheeks surely redder than ever before. Your hands reached up to grab his face, one reaching around his neck to pull him closer. He sprinkled light kisses all over your face and a few more on your lips as you giggled, Oscar’s smile wide.

“I hated seeing his hands on you. I wanted to punch him for even looking at you, but how could I blame him? Look at you.” He confessed, eyes roaming over your body, bare thighs suddenly feeling very exposed.

You pulled Oscar down, placing your lips back onto his with a slow intensity far different from before. He licked into your mouth, tongues tangling together with hunger. Want filled your body as your hand wandered over the expanse of his chest, the other tugging his hair, his teeth tugging your lip. Your hand reached the edge of his shirt, pushing it up and feeling his abs as you whimpered. Oscar detaches himself, sitting up a little to throw off his shirt, grabbing the edges and pulling it up over his head before dropping it somewhere off the bed. Leaning back down, his hand slid across your waist, gripping your hip, your hands sliding across his chest and back up into his hair.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and hungry, tongues sliding together. Tugging his hair, you lifted a leg onto his hip, pulling his body closer to yours.

Oscar groaned when you tugged on his hair, his body responding immediately, his hips involuntarily grinding into yours.

He groaned again, the sound low and primal as he felt you whimper against his lips. He wanted to make you squirm and whine like that all night long, he wanted to hear the noises you could make for him. He pulled back from the kiss only to move down to your neck, his lips and teeth nipping your skin, his breath hot against you.

His hand reached towards the button of your denim skirt, tongue still licking over yours. “May I?”

“Please,” You whimpered. Unbuttoning your skirt, he slides it off your legs smoothly, running his hands gently back up your thighs before squeezing, leaning back down to kiss you.

His lips roamed down, hands sliding up the edge of your lace top, pushing it up. You leaned your head back as his tongue suckled another mark onto your collarbone. Your skin felt hot, fire blazing wherever his lips trailed as he peered up at you hungrily. Your hand tangling into his hair, tugging wantingly as he groans against your neck.

He grabs the edges of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body, tossing it to the side carelessly as his mouth eagerly lands on the swell of your breast. His mouth lingers, leaving marks scattered across your top half, his teeth grazing your body teasingly. “Oscar.” You whimpered, breathless as his hand grabbed the cup of your bra, tugging it down, mouth latching onto your nipple. Tongue flicking and swirling teasingly as you writhe, his other hand gripping onto your hips harshly. You let out a moan, back arching as his teeth graze your nipple, tongue soothing the slight sting. Oscar’s hand slides up your hip, past your ribs, towards your back, reaching for the clasp. In one single motion, his fingers flick the clasp open, tugging the straps off your arms and entirely off your body.

“Greedy.” You whispered, Oscar chuckled darkly, his finger brushing over your nipples as you moaned. You can feel his bulge pressed against your thigh, hips grinding into you. Your hands trailed down his body, hand rubbing against his length, Oscar groaning at the contact. Unbuttoning his shorts, you try to push them, fumbling as his mouth continues to roam your body. Placing a gentle kiss on your breast, he stands up, sliding his shorts off the rest of the way before repositioning himself on top of you, lips placing a delicate kiss on your navel.

Oscar’s hands grab your thighs, pushing them apart, placing fluttering kisses on your thigh as you squirm. “You drive me crazy,” he mumbles, leaving sloppy kisses toward your core. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, dark and hungry as he places a wet kiss on your clit over your panties, blushing at how soaked through you are. His hand holds your thigh open, thumb rubbing over your wet heat lightly, making you whimper.

He pushes your panties aside, holding them tight as he licked along your slit. “Hold these to the side for me, baby,” Oscar instructed, voice husky as your hand reached down to hold them aside. His hands left marks at how tightly they were gripping you, your back arching to try and get more of his mouth, you can feel him smirk between your thighs as he places a kiss to your clit and suckling it as you moan. His tongue swirls around, tasting you feverishly.

His fingers slide up, teasing your hole as his tongue teases your pussy, your head spinning at the sensations. “Oscar, please…” You whimpered, hand reaching into his hair and tugging. Oscar slides a finger in, his tongue lapping at you as you whine, loving the stretch of his fingers. He can’t help but grind his throbbing cock into the mattress to relieve the ache, watching you fall apart because of him. He pumps his finger slowly, tongue flicking your clit as you writhe, his groans vibrating into you.

“Can you take another darling?” Oscar asks, checking you’re okay before continuing. Nodding wildly, you beg breathlessly, “Please.” You moan, looking down at him. He slips in another finger, pumping slowly, his tongue lapping greedily around your hole, his nose effectively nuzzling your clit, making your head spin.

“Fuck,” You whine out, a knot building in your stomach, his fingers pumping faster. “Osc-Oscar I’m gonna cum,” You whimper out, feeling yourself nearly come apart. Almost as soon as you said it, his fingers stopped, tongue delivering one last lick. You whined as he pulled away, missing the stretch of his fingers. Your hand slips out of his hair, your body shaking, his eyes running over your body admiringly.

“You taste so good, sweet girl,” He murmurs between kisses, trailing back up your body, finally reaching your lips. He kisses you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as you clench around nothing. His tongue slides across yours, his cock pressing into your thigh, throbbing.

You trail a hand down his body, scratching lightly before your fingers edge into his boxers, feeling his length. He grabs your legs, pushing them together and sliding your panties off your legs, tossing them aside before doing the same with his boxers, before climbing back on top of you and placing himself between your thighs. You shiver at his hands sliding across your body, one hand tweaking your nipple as your eyes fall to his length. Oscar watches you bite your lip, eyeing his cock wantingly. He was big, and your heart sped up, a little nervous.

His hand slips up, wrapping itself around your throat, forcing you to look back up at him, “You can take it, baby, for me, yeah?” Wanting to make him feel good, you nod, your body filled with desire.

Kissing you once, he smiles down at you, admiring your flushed face and glassy eyes. He grabs his length, pumping himself a few times, spreading his pre-cum down his length. He slides himself between your folds teasingly, coating himself in your wetness as you whimper. He lets go of your throat, placing his hand next to your head and leaning over you as he begins sliding in. Your hand grabs his bicep, the other brushing your breast and teasing it as Oscar fucks in his tip. You throw your leg over his hip, pushing him forward, silently asking for more. He slides in further, a delicious stretch, his eyes following the motion as your pussy wraps around him perfectly.

“You’re so fucking tight,” He groans, head dropping to your shoulder as he slides in to the hilt, hips flush with yours. You slide your hands to his back, nails digging into his back as he pulls out almost completely before sliding back in slowly.

You whimper at the drag, loving how well he fills you. “You take me so well baby, look at you, fuck.” He groans, lips trailing your neck sloppily. His hips speed up, the sound of skin slapping becoming louder as you moan. “Like this pussy was made for me,” Your mind dizzied at how he was talking to you. His hand reached down, thumb rubbing across your clit as he fucked you. His teeth grazed your collarbone, hands gripping your hips, pulling your body into his. He straightens up, fingers digging into your hips as he rhythmically fucks into you before slowly dragging himself out, you whine at the loss.

He grabs his length, slapping his length onto your clit, fucking only his tip into you, lightly teasing you. You whine at his teasing, needing more. “Oscar, please…” You whimper, clenching around him every time he slips in. He savoured the way you begged for him, “Sweet girl, c’mon, beg for it then.” He spoke darkly, revelling in your neediness.

“F-fuck off, you’re playing games, Osc, just keep g-going.” You whined, trying to maintain a sense of pride as he slowly fucked you, teasing drags in and out. “I could stop right now, darling, and you could sort yourself out,” He threatened teasingly, nearly sliding out completely. Your mind went fuzzy with need, swallowing your pride as his lips suckled yet another mark onto your tits. “Please Oscar, fuck I-I please, I need it.” With that, his hips sped up, fucking into you like he craved it.

“Yes fuck oh my god,” You moaned out, pussy clenching around him as he groaned. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other fills the room, feeling naughty. You felt a knot form in your stomach as his tip hit a spot inside of you, making your body convulse. “Fuck right there!” You moaned loudly, his lips falling onto yours to swallow your moans as he continued. “Shit Osc I’m so close, please,” you begged, asking him for release.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me sweet girl? Look so good like this, your pussy was made for me darling,” Oscar teased, his words making your body flush. Your stomach tightened, clenching around him as his thumb teasingly rubs your clit. His hips continued fucking into you as you came, your body clenching around him nearly blacking out. “That’s it baby, fuck.” His hips faltered a little, feeling you fall apart for him, his cock throbbed, close to his own orgasm as well.

“Gonna make me cum sweetheart? Gonna let me fill up that sweet pussy? C’mon baby,” He groaned loudly, your body overstimulated and tears brimming your eyes, but craving to make him feel good. You knowingly tighten around him as his abs clench, “Please, Osc, give it to me,” You begged, wanting to feel him. Scratching his back, Oscar’s hips stutter as he lets go, groaning as he fills you up, forehead falling to yours. “Fuck y/n… you’re everything., letting me use that sweet little pussy.”

You smile slightly at his words, head dizzy from your release and feeling him fill you up so intimately. He pulls out gently, placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Sweet girl,” he murmured, slipping out as he watches his cum drip out of your hole in a filthy manner. He grabs your thighs, holding them open, savouring the sight as you flush with embarrassment.

“Fucking hell, never gonna get sick of this,” He groaned, your heart fluttering at the insinuation of staying with him. “I’m gonna grab a cloth, okay, sweetheart?” He reassured, squeezing your thigh gently before getting up and walking to the washroom, grabbing a small towel and wetting it to clean you both up.

As he came back, his eyes landed on your actions, hand between your thighs as you pushed his release back into you before popping your fingers into your mouth, tasting him and whimpering. His eyes darkened, hand grabbing your thighs to clean between them before cleaning himself up as well. “You’re insane,” he teased, tossing the towel alongside his other dirty laundry.

Grabbing the blanket, he pushes it up onto your body before sliding in beside you, arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling your body closer. You slide a leg up onto his hip, looking at him, suddenly feeling fairly shy.

“You okay?” Oscar asks genuinely. You nod, kissing him lightly, his lips chasing yours for more as you pull away. Your hands lay flat on his chest, and he kisses your face, making you giggle.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about all of this,” He confesses, eyes sparkling in delight.

“Did I meet your expectations?” You teased, reciting what you had said to him after the race. He chuckled at your antics, “Yeah, more than I could’ve ever imagined.” He took a breath before continuing, “and now I get to have you like this always,” He says hesitantly, unsure of your response.

You smile at him lovingly, “Yeah, Osc, I’m here to stay. All yours,” You murmur, heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you.

“Perfect, don’t think I could take any more time without you,” He confesses quietly, “You’re perfect, only girl that matters.” He compliments, smiling bigger than you have ever seen him.

“You’re cute,” You giggled, hands sliding to play with his hair as his eyes shut, feeling content.

Perhaps everything did work out the way it was meant to.

#f1 x reader #fanfic #formula 1 #smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri #formula one #mclaren #miami grand prix #miami gp 2025 #f1 drivers #oscar piastri fanfic #op81 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

250 notes · View notes

eraserbread · 3 days ago

Note

Imagine forbidden romance family friend yuji and kento’s daughter nanami would be furious 😩🫣

"dad, can i pleaseeee have a friend over?"

"what did your mother say?"

"she said to ask you."

"then, go ask her again." kento nuzzles back in his chair, flipping the nonfiction book in front of him to the next page. it was evening now, past dinner and chores. supposedly, rin had finished her homework because she's at her father's neck, pouting, giving him that look she stole from him.

"but you could just say yes, and i'd leave you alone." her meticulous smile falters just before brightening her face once more. kento gives her a shadowed glare. "pleaseeee?"

"go ask mom."

rin stares at him dead-eyed for a moment. he blinks up at her, eyebrow crooked like he's wondering why she's still distracting him. "ugh, you never let me do anything-

stomping off down the hallway, ken is just glad rin took his answer well enough to leave him alone. though she's his spitting image, rin has your bite—that attitude he married and treasured. but it's different on his little girl—funnier.

he breathes out a laugh, then goes right back to reading.

what kento didn't know is that he dodged a bullet. no—a sixteen-year-old boy-sized nuke headed straight into his home.

"just wait until your dad finds out," you're grumbling, pushing rin and yuji from her room and into the hallway. and it's your fault—you ended up caving and agreeing that she could bring her friend over. after all, it's a weekend, she's overachieving in school, and her chores are done. now, you must punish her and all her calculating, mischievous ways. kento is far too light-handed for teenage girl antics.

"b-but I don't have one!" rin's classmate, yuji, whom she's known since middle school, is on trial next to her—young, pouting face round with shame.

"what's happened?" kento steps out of the bedroom, a tied robe keeping him decent. his eyes are shadowed with the promise of sleep. but he can't sleep when every light in this house is on; in fact, he couldn't sleep at all. you weren't next to him.

"i found them..." you start, letting them into the open space with a push, "in her bedroom, kissing."

"mom, wait—it wasn't like that." rin's hair is tossed, and kento is not dumb. his eyebrow twitches. images of the description flutter to the front of his mind, and it's unwelcome and ugly. he's furious. but rin would never know. kento doesn't share the hot side of his emotions with anyone but you—surely not to his livewire teenage daughter

"you think i don't know what kissing is?"

"you're being so totally overdramatic."

"i'm dramatic? no phone for a week," you hold an empty palm to your defiant teenager, ushering her with a curl of your fingers. "now."

of course, rin listens to you easily, but she still pushes it into your hands and stomps all the way back to her room. the door slams—just for good measure.

then kento sighs, shaking his head. in his mind, a fair punishment would be the inability to have more friends over—that's what he wants. just one less promise of an angsty brat in his space. "dear, i think we should reevaluate-

"shut up, kento."

nanami takes it, nodding once, sucking his cheeks when he watched rin hand over her phone like she'd never see it again. yuji watches over your shoulder, guilty as hell and suddenly two sizes too small for his baggy jeans. the truth is, he's been seeing rin on and off since they started high school. it's just a thing that led to unsure pecks on the lips behind closed doors.

it was never anything so serious until you lost your shit. now, your big, scary husband is towering over yuji with a quirk in his brow, taken aback when you walk past and shove rin's confiscated phone into his robed chest.

alone now, standing face-to-face in the bright, white light of the hallway, yuji looks so meek as he bows his head. "sir, i'm so-

kento doesn't want to talk. he hardly wanted to get out of bed, and now you've made it his personal mission to show the kid off. he and his glossy skincare still seeping into his pores, uncombed hair, and peeking chest through his garment.

but like a good husband, he takes a sigh and turns back to his room to get dressed.

and when he crawls back in bed with you after the kid is safe at home with his grandfather, he whispers in your ear, wrapping his arms around you, "well, at least you did not overreact."

"is that supposed to be funny?"

#i love papamin so bad #need to do more stuff with teenage rin #eraserasks #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #.nanami <3 #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento #kento x reader #jjk kento #kento x y/n #kento fluff #nanami jjk

238 notes · View notes

13tinysocks · 2 days ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

Days pass. Patience grows thin. Deathbed talk begins. You pull the last straw and are taken somewhere new.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

[Part one] [Ao3] [11] [13]

12 * Two Inches? [9.2k]

"Nice, nice!

Are you a virgin?

Nice, nice!

What color are your panties?"

Nice Nice - Dazey and the Scouts

"We need to tell everybody." He couldn't look away from that massive white thing. Hard-shelled with soft, crabby flesh underneath. His mouth watered just looking at its twitching mandibles.

From behind him, "No."

Baldie turned, brows pressed together. "Why not?"

Phantom watched him, feet away, keeping eyes and ears out for approaching company. No one was coming.

"(Y/n) likes you." He says instead of answering directly. "If you ask her to come with you alone, she will."

Baldie's mouth fell open. Now he was starting to get it. "But... You just said all that stuff about not splitting up."

"Because I had to." Phantom said, modulator softly echoing off the cave walls, "To keep the peace until we could talk. This is the safest way to do it."

"We can't just keep this from every-"

"You saw what those two did to her." Phantom cut him off, surprising even himself, "How easily they took her from you. I had to get her out of that situation. We only survived because they decided they were done playing. Do you really want her to be around people like that?" His throat itched. Vocal cords thin and raw after ten seconds of jabbering.

"Then we tell everyone but them." Baldie reasoned, though the voice in the back of his mind agreed. To take the hoard that was you and run.

"If we're all together, they'll find us. It has to be just us." Phantom finishes, cards splayed across the table, hoping Baldie would fold.

Baldie's mouth opened, closed, opened, closed. He knew he should do the right thing. Refuse. Tell everybody. Band together, kill Lensless and Scars with everybody else. Establish peace. Live with and eat bugs forever. Find friendship and understanding in the only person who could really understand what he went through- the other versions of himself.

But he just couldn't.

He'd waited four years in hell only to find your bones. Watched you be civil to the others, Viltrumite loyalists and enforcers and leaders. It made him sick, the idea of you with them. Any of them but him. Phantom must feel that way too.

He was no fool. Alternate motives were guaranteed in a situation as suspicious as this. "How long have you known about this place?" Was double-speak for, 'Did you find this before or after we ate a guy?'

"Not long." Phantom lies, "Three days."

Baldie nods shallow before spinning, neck cracking like a whip. "You're only telling me this now because, what? You think I'm stupid? You think I'm easy to kill?"

Phantom backed up, hands raised defensively. "No." He says, shaking his head, voice small, hunched over, feigning doe-ishness.

"What's stopping you from killing me when I bring her here?" Baldie's prowling closer now, fists clenching, "What's stopping you from just taking her yourself? Why are you telling me this?" Veins pop out on his scarred neck, pulse throbbing in his clenched fists. He's still angry about you letting Lensless and Scars go. He doesn't want, he needs to hit something hard as he can.

"Because you can make her happy." Phantom says, "And I can't." That makes Baldie pause. "I wish she liked me the way she likes you, but I know it won't happen. I'm okay with that. I just want her safe." It's a lie but a well-told one.

Baldie relaxes but not fully. "If you ever fucking try to touch her, I will kill you." He only says it because you're not here to hear him say it, because he couldn't say it to the ones that hurt you. Then and now. He had dreaded coming home from prison and you being scared of him, his appearance and the scars that festered underneath. But the you now wasn't scared, you were starting to cherish him. He was afraid now, of fucking it up a second time.

"Understood," Phantom said because this is exactly what he wanted.

"I-" Baldie took a breath, squared his shoulders, "I also need some time to figure this out. This," the bug queen, the cathedral, the never ending cache of food, "is a lot." But most of all, he needed to figure out how to tell you.

***

Your phone was gone. Off the rock you'd left it on to play music and die on. You'd asked around unhurriedly. Not like it'd be any help but the comfort of something not from this shithole was alluring. Something to hold and know you had existed before this and would hopefully exist after. But nobody knows where it went. Though Lensless (when you saw him next) claimed he took it and tried to get you to force him to tell the truth. You didn't even try.

Gray was dodgy, not about the phone, but about you. He couldn't seem to hold conversation with you for more than two seconds at a time before flying off somewhere with something better to do. He'd always been that way, but he'd been shorter with his words and was staring at you a whole lot more. Despite this, he wasn't a suspect. You doubted he'd want anything to do with your phone, even if it was working.

You were rotting and they all saw it. You couldn't explore long. The torches you'd been making out of soaked, then slightly dried wood and cloth never last longer than a half hour. You couldn't go to the surface, ceiling too high to even consider scaling out of. Not like any of them would let you anyway, not with Scars and Lensless roaming the wastes during the day. Hiding out somewhere hidden so those who wanted them dead couldn't even kill them in the daylight. Or maybe they were hiding, waiting to pick them off one by one. No one knew what they were planning.

Scars and Lensless always came at night because they'd yet to find another source of food. The peace was paper thin. They ate and didn't attack or kidnap you. Your horde of bodyguards let them stay in the shade for a few hours. We don't hurt you and we get to eat. Not exactly an even exchange.

Personal agendas were always thick in the air now. It was only a matter of days until the food was gone. They could go without awhile, but as soon as you began to starve, there'd be another death and another. Everyone was planning to be the last one standing, to die in the desert with you. The truce wouldn't last much longer but for tonight, nobody mentioned it.

Gray marked day twenty on the wall. He kept count for the sake of rationing. Meager scraps of what hadn't rotted remained. Only you would eat tonight, the small hard pieces of Emperor jerky that always got caught in your teeth a reminder.

Hopelessness isn't in the air, it's already sunken in, become a part of each of you. People were starting to think about dying or finding a way to make this all work long term. But without food? It would not.

The deathbed talk started lightly, a reprieve from their thoughts and the empty expanse around them.

"I could really go for mom's chicken parm." Maskless says, watching you nibble on small pieces of Emperor meat.

Tracksuit's mask fluttered when he laughed, "Your mom cooked?"

"Yours didn't?"

So began talk of Debbie Grayson. Another universal constant, but she was dynamic through the multiverse. Tracksuit talked about a distant figure he never liked much. Maskless implied kind acceptance, the love some of them yearned for. She stood up to Nolan and died for it. Mohawk laughed in his face. Bragged about how he came to your world partly to kill her himself again.

"Did you?" Omni asked, sounding suspiciously interested. Like he'd had a similar idea.

"Nah." Mohawk kicked at the ground. "Wasn't home. Any of you dicks find 'er?"

Nobody had.

Lensless claimed a weak, once loving mother who stepped aside when the Viltrum Empire came to Earth. Struck by grief at the death of her husband at her child's hand. They lived together through the change Viltrum brought to Earth. What was left of it after the slaughter Lensless brought down. She was a ghost. Wasting away as the world was rebuilt into a utopia. The last time he saw her, she was hanging in her closet. He said this lightly, with the same smile he always wore.

Scars grinned at the story, told them that Debbie Grayson's body would never be found in his world. Left it at that. No one wanted to know.

Gray was confused by all of this. The death. The alien versions of his, "Mother raised me on Viltrum." Turned heads. "She likes it there."

Baldie stirred, agitated by the idea. Mom was good, she was just. She was taken from Earth just like he was. Brought to Viltrum, not in a cell, but still imprisoned. Dad gave him updates in between beat-downs on his cell floor. She had stopped talking, stopped eating, had to be put on life support to stay alive. Nolan refused to pull the plug. He kept his wife unwillingly alive as a self-inflicted vegetable. Baldie wished he could've escaped another way. Seen mom one last time, taken her off that horrid life support and let her rest in peace.

But he kept his mouth shut. He felt if he opened his mouth at all, the cave secret would come spilling out. He hadn't figured out how to tell you. Where to tell you. When. How you'd react.

Phantom hadn't spoken at all since he'd talked with Baldie those days ago. Something about Mom and Viltrum made him spark, contempt thick in his voice. "As breeding stock?"

Gray turned to him, "That's not what I said."

"Dad said that's all humans were good for," Phantom said.

***

"Is she with child?" The Viltrumite doctor asked as they all stepped into the sterile room. White on white on white. Technically, only Mark needed to be in attendance for his physical. There had been plenty of appointments since he was the first human-Viltrumite hybrid and the Empire desperately wanted to know how he was developing. But his parents came, they always came because they cared. Humanity's customs had rubbed a dent into Nolan's character. The other Viltrumites didn't approve but he still conquered planets, if not more effectively than before- excited to return to his family.

"No." Debbie said firm. "We've already told you, we're not-"

"You brought the human woman to breed did you not?" The doctor looked square at Nolan. Debbie was beneath him.

"I feel it's better to focus on Mark until he develops his powers." Nolan said as Mark climbed onto the table for a full body scan. He was seven, small for a Viltrumite boy his age but Debbie was sure he'd hit a growth spurt soon.

The doctor watched numbers flash on a screen. Mark's vitals, muscle and bone density. Hardly different from a full blooded Viltrumite. "He will soon, Nolan. It would be prudent to begin procreation immediately."

"I said no." Debbie snapped.

The Viltrumite doesn't turn to address her. "You should consider your mission on Earth a great success, Nolan. We were unsure of human-Viltrumite compatibility before, but by the time he's developed his powers- he'll be strong as a full-blood. The Empire thanks you for this knowledge."

"Uh, yeah sure." Nolan internally wilted at his wife's hard stare. "But you don't need me to have more children do you? There's so many Viltrumites and humans to do that for me."

The doctor's hands balled to fists. "You know?"

It's a secret Mark isn't privy to. Debbie isn't privy to. Nolan knows. There are only fifty full-blooded Viltrumites left in the galaxy. Their bloodline thinning in other mixed races. The Empire is weak, desperate. Mark the greatest success yet.

"Yes," Nolan said.

"Then you know what you must do."

***

"There are other humans to do it for him." He says, the parallel is like a hammer to head. The population of Viltrum had thinned further since then, but there were still others to carry the mission. He could just... No. No, he couldn't defect like that, it wasn't like mother. The Empire wouldn't even allow you to be considered if you couldn't procreate. Even if he wanted to, he was stuck in the desert. No way of returning to his Empire. Still, he looks to you and finds a cringe he feels the need to reset. "The parents of our hybrid children are not forced into what they do. It is bad for the child's physical health if some human practices are not done during pregnancy and early development." Only in hybrids. Viltrumite babies weren't so needy. Remembering himself, a tiny, keening and a desperate thing, made him embarrassed to not be full blooded.

Your expression only worsens. You did not like that. He is confused, what he said was very humane. He left out the part that humans were selected by health and fertility, that many did not meet their qualifications. Some did not wish to serve the empire, so they would be killed until another was found. Rinse, repeat. After awhile, all participants are willing.

"Wait." Tracksuit's accent cut the tension. "You were on Viltrum from day one, yeah?"

"I was born there." Gray said, proud. It was like a badge among the lesser versions of him.

Tracksuit's fingers snapped. "That makes so much sense!" Gray doesn't ask, so Tracksuit continues, "You know, why you're taller than the rest of us!"

Looks were shared. "He's not-" Then. "Wait- Hey! Stop hovering for a second!"

Gray, who perpetually seemed to hover above the ground except for when he slept, did as requested. Gasps rang through the cave. Marks stood beside him. Hands going from the top of their heads to the middle of Gray's chin. All of them were the same height, except for Gray. Two, maybe three inches taller than the rest.

There was outrage from some. Gray did not care. Height did not matter on Viltrum, through he suspected his difference was due to a different level of gravity throughout his lifetime. Odd, yes, but he can only focus on you and your faraway expression. What were you thinking about? Were you not impressed with his height? Didn't Earth women like taller mates?

He is so focused on you he nearly doesn't catch Phantom's quiet words.

"She'd rather die than live on Viltrum." The whole time he'd been simmering, building up the strength in his throat.

Gray looked to him. Saw past his modulator and mask, and knew he was a hurt, aching, little boy on the inside. One he could've been, had he not been raised to be strong on Viltrum. Gray pities him, but feels no compassion. A bleeding heart was just that, a bleeding heart. Weak, soon to die.

"Your mother is dead, yes?" He says more than asks. It's a guess, an educated one. The human-raised among his ilk were too transparent with their feelings.

Phantom jerks as if struck, voice a growl like what he says will hurt him. "Dad killed her."

Weakness. "If she resisted, then it had to be done. She was not strong enough for The Empire or your father. My mother was, and she still serves The Empire." He says as if his mother didn't only have one child. As if he didn't cherish growing up surrounded by his parents love and attention. She had not done everything she should have for The Empire and he still loved her, his father loved her. He too was weak, but unlike Phantom, would not show it.

Phantom bristled under the mask. Tense. Ready to strike. But he looks at you. Remembers what's at stake. Forces himself to relax.

Mohawk's cackle hurts his ears, "Maaaaan! You can't be sayin' that shit to this dude!" His thumb jerked toward Phantom, "Dude looks like a school shooter!"

Phantom took the abuse on the chin. He'd take all he needed to because soon enough, he'd show them all.

***

Scars and Lensless touched down, made their gross, sexual commentary. Toed the line. Maskless built the fire, Gray marked day twenty-two.

You eat beside Tracksuit. Friendship an undercurrent you keep hidden at these fireside. The others would be weird, territorial. Scars and Lensless might fucking kill him. You hoped they didn't hear you pour your heart out to him about Mark. Knowing your luck? They probably had.

Another night of tension. Conversational scraps. No one had found anything in the caves or the desert. Until.

"Alright, I'm bored." Mohawk shot a pointed finger your way. "I gotta know, how was he in bed?"

You almost drop your jerky. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. How was fuckin' Daddy's little clone?"

You'd been avoiding the topic for days. Avoiding Omni for days. He had his own cot now, had for days, but he pushed it right up next to yours. Sleeping next to one another, ignoring his chatter, trying to get him to sleep on his cot and not roll onto yours in the night. All you cared about was if he would kill you or not. Since he wasn't trying, you didn't need to talk to him. Still, he tried. Over and over to catch you out alone and you continued to dodge. Using your powers to get someone else to be around. He was smart and knew the others shouldn't know. Liked keeping a secret between you both, until he didn't.

"I told you twelve times already, we didn't have sex." Your lies sting him. The first time you denied it, he didn't mind. It was survival. But now? You sounded grossed out by the idea of him inside you. As if your body hadn't been begging for more. As if he hasn't tasted you on his fingers.

"Sure you didn't." Mohawk snickers. "Yelling at him for that long?"

"Dude," Tracksuit swallows a wad of meat, "I'd tell you if she was fuckin' some guy. It's like, bro code man."

Mohawk snorted, "I'm just sayin', if we were alone for that long? You would not be yelling at me." His brows do a stupid jig on his forehead. You want to throw your jerky at him but you needed it. You'd used your reserves for the day on shutting Scars and Lensless up for an extended period. They seemed to come to the fireside just for your control. Work it out until your nose bled or you passed out, then leave into the night.

"If we were alone that long, I'd kill you." You say.

He bit his pierced lip in a grin. "I'd like to see you try."

"Say that stupid shit again and I will."

Omni had had enough. The secret was doing no good for your relationship. He said loud and clear for the whole desert to hear, "Is it so bad that I made love to my wife?"

Your jerky finally drops out your hand as you stood. "You-"

Mohawk slapped his knee. "Knew it! I knew it!"

"We didn't!" You glare at him, trying to stop him with your eyes.

Omni levels you with a too-serious glare. "We did and it was beautiful."

"No!" You hands go to your head. You do not have the energy to deal with this.

Mohawk clutched his chest, laughing so hard he may vomit. "Him! Him first?! Ain't no way!"

Your control on Lensless and Scars snapped. Lensless shot up, arm raised, "Me next! Me! Pick me!" While Scars watched you with a small, knowing smile. He'd already known. Guessed or heard somehow. You could never tell with this freak.

"Oh God." Tracksuit ran a hand under his mask.

"Wait." Mohawk stopped. "What about bro code? Were you in that pussy too!?"

"No." Omni said at the same time as you.

The unity made Mohawk stop laughing. Taking stock of the situation, the way you stood in front of him, trying to mask your anger in a way you wouldn't if he was lying. If he was lying you'd make him jump into the fire, but you just looked anxious now, barely contained.

"You actually fucked her." It's not a question. Omni didn't joke. "I should cut your dick off." Mohawk wanted to say little but considering they were the same person? Definitely not little.

"You will not." Omni says, smile cocky enough to make them all bristle, "But I didn't need it."

Mohawk's hands go to the shaved sides of his head. "Fucking-!" He'd done plenty of that in his day, especially since your death to fill the void. If anyone knew about meaningless sex it was him but you fucked him, another version of him, and not him him. It was a total betrayal, a slap in the face, a Coalition of Planets data pad under the mattress.

Nothing seemed more healing to him then being buried in your pussy. Negging you was flirting for him. He was just trying to get in your pants, then your heart. He'd thought the teasing would bring you closer together. He'd had a plan but now all he wanted to do was kick Omni's ass for existing.

He stood. Omni stayed seated. "Do you really plan to attack me, Little Man?" Mohawk doesn't see but feels his eyes flick up and down. It was obvious who the scrawniest was out of all of them, Mohawk himself. Nothing to sneeze at in terms of physique but compared to Omni's brick wall body? He stood no fucking chance.

But he knew his physique didn't matter, that he was more durable, better than all of them combined. And he wouldn't take such a insult in front of you.

"Yea-"

"Take a breather." You say. Mohawk shoots hard into the night. You hold control long as you can.

"I appreciate the assist, my love but l-"

You hold up a hand shutting him up. "I'm not your love or your wife. That was the whole fucking point of what we did." You turn to the rest, the official news hitting them all at once. "And if any of you assholes have a problem, I'll send you out until you can act like adults. Jesus Christ."

Gray felt strangely disappointed. You couldn't help the repopulation effort but you'd still had sex just to have sex. Why? He never understood why his parents did what they did. Never got to lay his version of you down himself. Baldie tells himself you're only human. Needed to let off steam, but he angsts anyway. Lensless and Scars look to each other. Seeming to physically brew up punishing ideas. Maskless didn't care. Tracksuit hoped Mohawk wouldn't come back and murder him over an assumption.

Phantom sat content. Upset, yes, but content knowing this information would push Baldie further to his side. All evidence of Omni's mark on you could be erased anyway- once Baldie was out of the picture. If everything went his way no one else would touch you ever again.

***

You sat on the ground in total quiet. Alone for the first time in forever in the central cave. You couldn't remember who was on babysitting duty or where they'd gone. You continued knitting garbage together on your bare arms. Everyone had a cot now, but you wanted a blanket that wasn't Omni's cape after that shit he pulled last night. You'd slept against a carved bench by the fire while he tried to call you to bed. You ignored him until the only sounds you could hear were the fire and your teeth chattering.

You were exhausted and your whole body ached, and every time you fucked up the technique, you swore. It'd been getting harder to keep your emotions in check. You were always partly starving, bored, afraid for your life. You were fraying at the edges and didn't know how much more you could take.

"Hi."

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Falling forward, scraping your elbows on the cave floor, garbage fabric falling to useless shreds on the ground. You twisted, ready to bark out a kill order.

Phantom stood. Hand poised like he was going to touch your shoulder but thought better of it.

"What?" You gathered your limbs under yourself, trying to look more composed.

He notices you're slow to do so. You were not as afraid of him as the others. Unsure, reasonably so, but not enraged by his closeness. This was a good sign.

He reached into his belt. You'd never seen him turn out his pockets, had no idea what was inside. Mind racing that he was going to pull out a weapon, superhero murder gas or something of the like. Instead, he holds a small flat disc. No larger than the center of his palm.

"For you." He held his hand out, palm open, waiting for you to take it.

You ogle the thing with a frown. "It's not going to cuff around my wrists right?" You remembered the thing he'd thrown at you in Sydney. What you guessed it was but it was never confirmed to be. Remember what Scars had brought with him to subdue you. You suppress a shiver.

"No." He says, smile soft in his voice. "I used this when I knew I didn't have the time to follow a suspect." His thumb pressed on the disc's center and out popped a suction cup. Another press and it was smooth once more. "I did a lot more work for the GDA than the others."

He assumes anyway. Those lazy, immoral rats didn't care about the planet most of them grew up on. Not like Phantom did. He did everything he could to protect it. He still remembers what Dad said to him that horrible day. A sneer as he said "his hobby was cute," right after leveling their family home, after killing you. Just remembering spiked his heart rate.

He forced himself to breathe. Be level, calm. He held his arm out a little further but didn't dare touch you. Careful not to set you off, the poor, scared little mouse that you were.

"Or," he started, nervous under your attention, "to keep covert operatives safe." He flipped the disc on its side, slid a hidden track down to reveal a slim red button. "Press this and I'll be alerted. I'll come right away." He slid the hidden compartment shut and waited.

He wanted to keep an eye on you. Keep you in the palm of his creepy hand. He wanted to...

You were always in the same place. Always under threat of Scars and Lensless suddenly swooping down and snatching you up. This wasn't about stalking, it was about protecting. After all, he had saved your life from them, and your own stupid mistake.

You took the thing, slow, like you were scared if you moved too quick his predator instinct would spring and he'd grab your arm. But he holds himself perfectly still. Feeling the euphoric thrill that is your fingers grazing over his palm through kevlar. When your touch leaves, the sensation lingers.

You turn the thing over and over in your palm. Testing the weight and muttering, "Where was this a few days ago?" Before sliding into the pocket of your soldier pants. Its weight is near imperceptible but you feel it tugging at your hip. A real, solid comfort. A promise.

You realize you're being an asshole.

"Thank you." You say. Hoping he doesn't take it and his promise of protection back. Machine Head was always so quick to take privileges like that away. You worried but a lightning speed pick-pocketing doesn't occur. You relax. "For this and the other day. Those guys are uhm..." You look up through the porthole as if they'd be there waiting. They aren't. You don't want to jinx it. "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

He nods. All talked out for the day. Chest ablaze with the praise.

"It's good to have someone like you on my side."

He picked up your trash and re-knit it before you could think about doing it.

"It's good to have someone like you on my side."

He brought Gray's cache of trash to weave closer. Sat by your side and passed you pieces as you went along. Quietly enjoying your company.

"It's good to have someone like you on my side."

***

Dinner tonight was a broth of Emperor's bones to be sipped out of cups of dry clay Gray baked in the sun. He only made bowls for those two because if he didn't, they'd have an excuse to drink from yours. It was not that he cared for your comfort, why should he if you couldn't help him complete his mission but... There was no mission in this wasteland. He tells himself he's trying to keep the peace, to do the most rational thing in a hopeless situation. You were needed for morale, the others and not his of course.

You tilted the bowl to your lips and let the poor excuse for hot soup slide down your throat. Scars watched your throat bob. Wanting nothing more than to drink the liquid out of your mouth after a long day of desert dwelling with Seven. He settles for drinking his own share.

Scars is watched himself. Nobody trusts him not to try and take you to the sky again. Maybe even take you away for good. He hadn't made his move yet, but it was expected soon. For tonight, he did the same thing he had for the last week.

"Stop avoiding the question, Dregs." Piss you off on purpose, asking personal questions and making assumptions about your previous life. You didn't understand why he did it. You always shut him up and he was too pussy to attack even with Lensless in a room full of your personal bodyguards. Sometimes you thought he was getting off on bothering you, on not letting you have any sense of peace. But he barely fought back, letting you shut him up and bite back.

"Be quiet." And he was. Thank God.

Your nose hadn't started to bleed yet. Your powers should be weaker from eating less and less these last few days but you were on a roll tonight.

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Lensless baited. "We've been plenty vulnerable with you about our lives. Why can't you do the same thing for us? Just tell us who came up with the name!"

"Leave."

The cave whooshes with a rush of air. The kindling scattered to the floor. Regathered by Omni before they can burn themselves out. You nod thanks. The cave was insulated from desert night chills but it was no camping trip, you needed the fire.

You feel your control on Scars start to slip. "Stay quiet." You close your eyes. Feeling power loosen on Lensless, even at a miles distance. By now, his mind is free but his body is not. You focus. Try to keep them both evenly controlled. You'd never had a workout quite like this. Regular human beings were so easy to control you were unused to challenge. Hadn't even had any resistance from non-psychics until that day on the roof. You wouldn't say it but the exercise was welcome but you almost started looking forward to making fools of them over the nightly bonfires- showing them all you had something they couldn't control. You.

While you were focused, Mohawk hits you where it hurts. "By all means, leave those dickheads in the dark but why not tell the rest of us? We're buddies by now, yeah babe?" He knows your hold would break if you added another Mark to the roster. You can shut those assholes up, but not him.

"None of your business." You grit out through ground teeth. Feeling Lensless's mind wriggle in your hold. You clamp the mental prongs down.

He really shouldn't agitate you but you'd been avoiding him for days now. He just needed you to look at him again after that moment of union in the caves. "I think it is," Omni says.

Mohawks brows shoot up in surprise but he takes the advantage, willing to work with anyone if it meant getting under your skin. "See, babe? Everyone wants to know, even this shithead."

You scowl at Omni, concentration waning. Scars mentally slashing at your power with steely claws.

"Shut up."

"Think of it like a campfire story, ya'know. You can even change the names around if ya want." You don't budge. Mohawk pouts, "Come oooonnn, I showed you mine, you show me yours isn't that how the sayin' goes?"

"I said," your eyes snap open, control gone from the others, "shut up."

It's Mohawk's turn to go quiet. Lensless returned to the fire in a snap that again, scatters the wood. The fire is restacked before you notice a change in light.

"Idiot." You tsk at a finally shut up Mohawk.

"Did I miss anything?" Lensless asked.

"Just our dear Dregs getting defensive over the tiniest of questions." Scars said.

"I'm not defensive." You say, defensively.

"Then tell us." Mohawk goaded. Your hold already gone with your concentration.

"Yeah, I wanna know why you're so hot and evil and stuff." Lensless said.

You scowled. None of them were stopping this line of questioning. Why the hell was Mohawk working with Scars, who he tried to kill last week, to get information out of you? Why the hell weren't Phantom or Gray stopping this?

On the flip side, Phantom wanted to know. He knew you'd be upset if he asked. But the cool-headed image of him in your head wouldn't crack if he stayed quiet. When you stopped being angry you'd think it was survival move to stay quiet. Not speak against the majority.

Gray shouldn't let the tensions rise, he knew, but you were so vexing. All he needed to do was let the others crack your brain open for him.

Baldie tried to stop it, weakly. "She doesn't want to talk." Said as a mutter because he craved knowing all of you, but knew if he said nothing, you'd be pissed.

"Stop white-knighting, dude, she's not gonna fuck you." Mohawk said and that shut him up. Fighting all of them was a stupid idea. But leaving in a huff, leaving you alone, was a stupider idea. The best thing he could do was sit by your side as silent moral support. Back your play.

"I'm not fucking any of you." You say.

Mohawk scoffed. "You fucked Wonder Boy over there."

You lean forward, elbows to knees, "Yeah, and not you." That made his smirk crumple.

He forced it to bounce back. "Not yet."

"Mmm, no." You say, a lilt in your voice, "Thing is, I just don't think you're all that attractive." It's a lie but one you try to sell. Happy to bruise an ego. "I never thought the Mark in my timeline was either. With him," you jerk your head toward Omni, "I just needed stress relief and we were in the dark, so who really cares?"

Mohawk's lips purse like he'd sucked a lemon. "Funny you say that." He shifted, pulling something out of his back pocket.

Your phone. Caligula's belly flashing on the lock screen, fully charged.

"Give me that." You don't want to waste what power you have left, not yet. "How is that even working?"

"No shot." His shit-eating grin returns, "You could'a been explorin' the caves all this time, playing your stupid music-" Your eyes shift around, wondering who told. "We got crazy tech in these suits, babe. I had Art put a phone charger in mine cuz I kept missing your calls while I was workin' and you'd get pissed!" He slid the phone into a seam on his bicep, surly enough the charging sound dinged. He pulled it out. "-But you didn't think to ask cuz you're such a prissy bitch."

"You want to call me that again?" It's a dare.

One he doesn't take because he has the upper hand. "So I started goin' through ya phone." He flips it to himself and unlocks it with a swipe of the thumb. "Can't believe your passcode's the same." He laughs, tapping at the screen.

"Oh no, you beat my Tetris Lite high score." You say, because there's nothing incriminating on your phone. Aside from vague text chats with Machine Head and Isotope. "What's your point?"

"I'm so glad you asked." A few more taps and he where he wanted to be. An old photo album automatically downloaded to your phone from the cloud. You never looked at it, never cared to. Images carried over from your old phone before Machine Head issued you a new one, decked out with all sorts of encryption tech for secure messaging and calls. You didn't need pictures of your old work schedule or study notes from high school. But you never found the time or energy to delete them.

He flipped the phone over, stretched out his arm and panned the image around the circle. Letting everybody take in the truth. You, five years ago, kissing Mark's cheek, him grinning stupid at the screen. Your third or fourth date, the best so far. It had been your lock screen for months.

"Still think I'm unattractive?" Mohawk smirked.

Caught red handed. Your words catch in your throat. All of them processing what you had been to Mark. Even in the vaguest terms. Their hopeful puppy dog eyes. The memory of being happy and younger.

Mohawk started swiping through the pictures. One after another, in the short moments after the first. A cheek kiss to a lip kiss, the both of you blushing and smiling. "Doesn't this bring back memories, babe?"

Phantom feels his heart melt. He'd taken those same photos with you. Lensless had too, though with a lot more tongue. Baldie had too, but he'd been too shy to go in for a kiss on the lips. Omni was never one for selfies, thought they were a waste of time. But that didn't stop him from collecting photos, asking friends or strangers to snap some when you were out. He remembers you making fun of him for how serious he always took it. Mohawk had plenty pictures of you on his phone that he hadn't brought along. Mostly of your eyes looking up at him pleadingly, lips stretched over his cock, tears messy on red cheeks. He was deeply disappointed not to find anything similar on your phone. Scars didn't know you young, but liked where this was going. The look on your face, the rage, the humiliation- oh so sweet.

Gray did not have any photos of you. Photos for fun weren't a thing on Viltrum. Tracksuit had plenty of nudes on his phone, mostly of himself. Now, he was glad he hadn't brought his phone. A little glad he was witnessing true reality TV trash in real time but still, he felt bad for you but- come on, drama like this doesn't come around every day. Maskless watched on less enthused. Here we go, more het-slop drama. Fantastic.

"Give me that," you warn low, "give me that right now." You're saving your power now. Strategizing how to hurt him best in one big burst.

"Or what? You'll tell me to shut up?" He swipes through another photo. Mark's back to the camera, your head over his shoulder, locked in a hug. "Man," he whistles through his teeth, "you've got a lot of these. Wanna know the best part?" He asks the others, not you. "These are years old and she still has 'em-"

"I meant to delete them!" You can't help the outburst.

"And I went through 'em all, we stop showing up right around..." He stopped at your last photo of Mark. "Here. 'Bout five years ago," according to the photo app metadata. Mark sat across from the camera at a fancy dinner table. He was late to his own reservation, leaving you embarrassed and feeling like an inconsiderate dickhead. But when he came with roses in hand and you forgave him right away. You'd never been on a date like that again because not long after- you were through.

"Shit," Lensless took the phone, Mohawk let him have it, "We rock a suit, huh?"

Scars leaned over his shoulder. Frankly disgusted by how sweet his own face could look. "Rocked her right after this picture was taken I wager."

"No!" You should kill them all. Like, actually. You couldn't do them all at once though, you were deciding who to hurt.

"Why haven't you taken any pictures with him in that long, huh?" Mohawk went on. "Trouble in paradise, babe? You know, you'd never have any with me." Bullshit.

Omni took the phone out of Lensless's hand. Swiped through the photos himself. You looked so sweet, so happy, and alive. Nothing like you did now, with your dead-tired eyes and permanent scowl. He knew what happened to you in vague terms, the jail sentence and the subsequent assassin position. He jumped to the conclusion that this dimensions version of him was a stupid fuck up who didn't put a ring on it, and couldn't protect you from the world. He'd given up on you like a fool. But it was lucky for him, he supposed. He knew for sure now, despite your denials of his love, you could and would love him back. One day.

"We were friends." You lie back, "He was just affectionate-"

"Friends?" Mohawk cackles, "Yeah, cuz I tongue-fuck all my homies. Really, babe? I thought you'd come up with something better than that. What? Are you embarrassed?" Clearly, you were. "Cuz you kept alllll these pictures after he broke up with you?" It's a guess but dead on.

The quiet rage is confirmation enough.

There is a collective internal glow of pride in everyone. You were in love with him at some point. Some part of you kept the evidence. You could love him back, the collective thought. Save for Tracksuit and Maskless, who were both thinking this was a little much. Who both felt bad for you. Who both knew they'd rip Mohawk's skin off if they were in your shoes, but make no move to do so.

Mohawk didn't know when to stop, slinking forward to get in your face. "Aww, baby... Are you still in love with him? That's so stupid and sad."

"Punch yourself in the balls. Hard as you can."

You feel a rush of air and he's on the floor, writhing, clutching his family jewels, tears pricking the edges of his eyes before you can process your nose starting to bleed. You wobble on your feet, avoiding Baldie's balancing touch. You turn to Omni with Gray hovering behind him. Feeling things he couldn't truly explain.

You say, "Crush it." Before you consider that you'd need the flashlight.

Glass and metal splinter to the ground. Omni opened his hand, impressed you controlled him like that, but he doesn't think it'll happen again. Blood is coming out your nose in thick drops now. You wipe them away with the back of your hand. Head starting to throb as you walk slow, purposeful back to Mohawk. Still groaning.

You kneel. Everyone falling away but the two of you. Him in sweet, glorious pain, and you high off his agony. "You wanna know who gave me that name so bad?" His face is to the ground, trying to hide how much it hurts like the tough guy he is. You grab his hair in your fist, pulling his head up easily because despite everything, he'd always melt in to your touch. "You did."

They want answers so bad- they'll get 'em.

"My boss Machine Head, that robo-dick I murdered- he took it and ran with it because it upset me. You said I was the dregs of society- something stupid like that- and left me to rot. He thought it was so funny Dregs, his de facto murder-torture guy, isn't that nice? I was his favorite, you know? Machine Head always had these fucked up requests and I'd do it because I didn't care. I knew he wouldn't check, not because he trusted me, but because he knew I had nothing else. One guy, I made him skin himself alive with a potato peeler. Got pretty far before his body shut down. Another, I made him choose who to shoot first, his wife or his mistress- they both died, yeah, but man, him turning on his wife like that? Crazy." You didn't mean to ramble but you were. You were just so pent-up and angry, that a reminder of your Mark, the life you could've had, had you unwinding yard by yard. It was easy letting their flawed logic win for once, and it felt damn good. They had hurt you.

"I could've been something. When I met Cecil, he wanted me to work for him. Mark could've made that happen, but he let me fuck around New York murdering people for some drug-running robot dickhead." Mohawk's eyes began to clear of pain. Were rapt on you and your anger and how transparently awful you were. "I loved him so much, and now-" He's looking at you like he loves you and you hate it; say the nastiest thing you can think of, "If I ever get back, I'm killing his family, starting with that dumb bitch Eve. So no, you stupid motherfucker, I'm never going to love you and I'm never letting you fuck me."

You stand, emboldened by the silence. "Any more questions?" You only look at Mohawk. Curled, clutching his balls, but slowly, purposefully smiling at you.

"I think that about covers it." He says, voice weedy.

"Can you do me next?" Lensless asked.

You were sapped of power. Couldn't if you wanted to. You also shouldn't, he'd cum but still, he'd hurt and you wanted them all to hurt. You say nothing, gather up a premade torch. Held it out to Tracksuit to light with friction- much quicker than the fire that didn't much like damp-ish cloth. He does, no questions asked. He'd also want to take a hike after all that.

You picked a cave and started. Not before saying, "Fuck you all."

Then you were off. You don't let yourself stop and cry until you were triple sure you were out of hearing range. Even then, you go further, further, until your torch burnt down to the quick and singed your hand. You drop it, clasping the skin, crumbling to the ground as the first angry tears sprang forth.

You hated them. You wanted them to die but you needed them to survive. Why couldn't they just be normal? Couldn't they understand you were a different person? And now they knew your dirty secret. Sure to hold it over your neck like a guillotine.

You'd scream but they'd hear. Come running. Come mocking. So you sob as quietly as you can into your hands.

"I'm sorry he did that to you." He says.

You jump. Grab the smoldering remains of the torch off the ground and throw it at the voice, despite how it burns your hand. "Go away!"

The torch bounced off Baldie's chest, fell to the ground, all light dead on impact.

"I know you're upset but..." He knows Phantom is near. Lurking. Can hear his mostly disguised breathing. He'd left after you when the bickering fizzled and Lensless and Scars left out of boredom. Phantom followed because he knew- Baldie had made up his mind.

"Upset? I'm not upset!" You forcefully rub at your cheeks. "This is nothing."

He frowns, though you can't see it. "I have something to show you."

"I don't care." You say. "I don't want to see anything that isn't Mark's dead body. Okay? Just-" You take a wobbly breath, "Fuck off. I can't do this anymore."

The admission almost pulls a sob out of you, and you have to fight to hold it in.

"I know," it's soft, "I know, that's why I need to show you. You don't have to see any of them."

You're fighting to hold in sobs, barely processing what he says, "Please. Just go."

"(Y/n) I-"

"Die." You splutter without power, "Just drop dead or go away. I'm done." Soon as the words come out your hands go to your head. You almost did it again. You didn't want him to die, not really.

The sobs come harder. You're hysterical. Soon to crack and scream and then he wouldn't be alone with you anymore.

He scoops you up in his arms. Apologizing, keeping his grip gentle as possible as he flew deeper into the caves. Back to the hidden entrance he'd visited and re-visited since Phantom told him of its existence. You beat your fists against his chest, his neck, his face, but he couldn't be angry at you. He was angry at them for making you feel so low.

He doesn't speak as he moves the rock, floating inside, and sealing the tomb behind you both. He sees Phantom's silhouette as the rock slid flush to the wall. An agreement passed quietly between them.

You heard movement, unable to place the exact sound. Like Styrofoam peanuts squeaking past one another. But there was no way there'd be Styrofoam peanuts here. You blink, looking around but seeing nothing in the absolute dark. The air felt different here, wetter, smelling of sod and sulfur.

"One sec." He said, floating down to the ground with the least amount of creepy-crawlies. In the times he'd come back, he started the beginnings of a camp. Stole away supplies from Gray's material cache to make your own cots. Picked a spot a few feet up from the bug rivers where you could watch but be in no danger if you decided to hop down and explore.

He clacked two rocks together. Sparks rained as the fire pit he'd built lit. He blew, added more kindling from the pile he'd prepared, nurtured the fire in a matter of milliseconds. The light illuminated the cavern around you, but your eyes could barely process what you were seeing.

You were beside her, yards away. Sat in a high chair at her bug court. The massive white thing that was some mutated sand-mite-termite-whatever-the-fuck queen. She did not notice or care about the fire. Did not mind your sudden presence. Her mandibles twitched as her children flitted in and out of her mouth.

"What the fuck?"

Your brain doesn't even think of food. Water. Too stuck on the giant bug. But you know what it means, these are the first living creatures you'd seen since arriving over three weeks ago.

"We can stay here." He says soft behind you, sure to give plenty of space for you to process. "We have everything we need." You don't reply, jaw dropped open, taking in the sight. The bugs skittering in and out of their dens set into the walls. "You don't have to go back and deal with them ever again."

It's like a dream come true. Too good to be true.

You don't feel yourself speak. "They'll come looking."

"They haven't found this place yet and if we stay quiet, they won't. But I'll be honest, I didn't find this place myself. Someone else did."

You turn, eyes wide, "Who?" God, don't say Scars. Don't say Lensless.

"He wants to tell you himself." He knew it'd matter to you who it was, but Phantom asked him not to tell. He was cagey about why. "But he's helping us. I think tomorrow he'll stage your disappearance and join us. It's nobody bad, I promise."

"I-" You look back to the bugs, undulating below. None of them cared you existed. Minding their own buggy business, not begging you for sex or love or attention. If Baldie brought you here they were likely not venomous. They didn't attack or swarm or even run away. "We'll really be safe here?"

"I'll make sure of it." He said.

Something in you breaks. Resolve or dignity.

Because you lunge at Baldie, tears returning. Stuff your face to his chest, arms going tight around his forearms and middle. The hopelessness that'd become a part of your everyday slowing leaching out in his hold.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," it's muffled against his chest. His arms wriggle easily out of your hold and drape over your back. He pulls you closer, inhaling your scent, feeling your skin, and is at peace.

"It's alright, I've got you."

151 notes · View notes

astars-things · 2 days ago

Text

Birthday Hangover

Summary- Where half of the grid, Jack's friends, Lando, Quinn and Luke go out and party to celebrate, and Lando helps y/n recover from the hangover

Warning- Mentions of puke

------ Was it a good idea for you to invite Jack, Quinn, and Luke to Monaco to celebrate your and Jack's birthdays? Probably not, but here you were standing around with all of your friends, Jack's friends, some of his teammates and half of the grid, in a club in Monaco that Lando had rented out for the night.

You were in a black dress with heels on while Jack was in a black button-down shirt and nice dress pants. Your theme was black attire to celebrate the death of being 23. Jack had chosen last year's theme, so it was only fair for you to choose this year's. Every year, the tradition was that you would have two cakes each, one being your main cake and the other one being a small smash cake for you to hit each other with.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming", you said into the microphone, having a couple of shots in you, you were confused about how you got it. "Thank you, also to my wombmate, here's to being 24" You clinked your shot glass with Jack’s, letting the liquid roll down your throat. You watched Quinn light both cake candles. Once everyone sang Happy Birthday, you thought of your wish before blowing out your candles.

"Here's to being 24", you heard Jack scream before your vision went blurry. You gasped, stunned, while laughter echoed around you. Feeling cake all over your face. Lando quickly gave you a napkin letting you wipe off the frosting that was now in your eyes, you picked up the other cake and pressed into Jack face dragging it up into his curls for good measure. The crowd went wild. Cameras flashed. Max Fewtrell chanted "Fight! Fight!" as Quinn and Luke tried not to slip on the frosting-covered floor.

You and Jack stood together, faces a mess, arms around each other for your annual birthday cake Polaroid. Lando snapped it, then one with you kissing his cheek, leaving behind a trail of frosting and lipstick.

The night spiraled quickly after that.

The drinks didn’t stop coming. Neither did the dancing. Pierre taught Jack how to two-step. Alex and Lily started a Conga line. You found yourself slow dancing with Lando to a remix of Mr. Brightside while Charles DJed for ten chaotic minutes and Oscar was celebrating more than he did after his first win

It was loud and messy and perfect.

You wake up to hell. You tried to sit up but your body felt like it had been run over and then reversed on by a semi truck. You opened your eyes to see you were laying in Landos bed and Jack was laying on the floor using on of Landos duffle bags as a pillow like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tried to remember back to last night but when you did nausea hit you like a truck

You sprint to the bathroom that was connected to your shared room, collapsing in front of the toilet as your stomach launches a protest. You hear a bucket scrape across the floor, and then sounds of Jack hurling into a plastic bucket like the two of you are synchronized swimmers in a truly cursed Olympics.

Lando appears in the doorway, bleary-eyed, shirtless, and holding a bottle of water. He takes one look at the scene, you over the toilet, Jack over a plastic bucket near the bed, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I know you guys are twins, but this is freaky." You can barely lift your head, but you manage to flip him off with one trembling hand. Lando place the water next to you before grabbing a hold of your hair and putting into a lose bun

You slowly made your way to the bed, belly flopping on it, soon another body sunk down on the mattress next to you, you looked up to see Jack, messy hair, bags underneath his eyes. You let out a groan rubbing your hands on your face

"I'm never drinking again" you let out "amen to that" Jack echoes you weakly. You both lie there in silence for a moment, letting the room spin in peace. Then, from somewhere in the apartment you heard a loud crash "What the hell was that?" you mumble.

"Luke," Jack says simply.

Lando pops his head back in the room. "He’s fine," he assures you. "He’s wearing my race helmet and sword-fighting a baguette." "What?" you and Jack say at the same time. "He found a baguette in the fridge and is now defending the living room like it’s his kingdom," Lando explains, far too casually. You bury your face in the pillow. "This is my nightmare."

After an hour of you and Jack laying on the bed in the same position not moving a muscle except to occasionally groan in unison, the pounding in your head subsides just enough for movement to become a possibility. Jack rolls off the bed like a body being dropped from a stretcher. You both made your way out into the living room. Jack stumbles into the wall twice, and you have to physically stop him from walking into a plant.

As you walked into the living room you see Luke laying on the floor of the living room with one of Landos F1 helmets on with the visor down, cuddling up with a random baguette. Not a pillow. Not a blanket. A baguette. "That baguette’s seen things," Jack mumbles. You rub your eyes. "Is that the same one from the charcuterie board last night?"

"I think so. And I think he named it." "Benny," Luke mumbles without moving.

When you make your way further into the living room, you see Quinn in the kitchen making food and Lando rearranging the couch to have a movie day. "Look who it is, thing 1 and thing 2, back from the dead." Quinn called out. He looks way too happy for someone who was doing shots with George Russell five hours ago. He’s plating scrambled eggs and avocado toast like he’s on MasterChef. He slides two plates toward you and Jack. "Eat this or perish. No in-between."

"Don’t threaten me with a good time," you rasp, sitting and the kitchen island scoffing down the food, once it was gone, you just walk over, flop into the cushions, and dramatically collapse against Landos chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He catches you with a soft "oof" and immediately wraps both arms around you, tucking your head under his chin.

"Hi," he murmurs against your hair. "You’re the love of my life," you mumble into his shirt. Jack walks past holding his plate, looks at you snuggled into Lando, and snorts. "We get it. You have a boyfriend." You shoot him a lazy middle finger.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you quickly pulled it out to see the contact 'Momma ❤️' You squinted and passed it to Lando, who took it with a raised eyebrow and a soft smirk. "What’d the Queen say?" you murmured, your voice raspy from the absolute war your throat had survived.

Lando cleared his throat dramatically and read the message in his best 'mom voice' "Hey bug just checking in to see how all of you are doing? And I hope you two were on your best behaviors! Can't wait to see the cake smash photo. Call me when you're up for it," Lando read out, you and Jack let out a synced groan

"Just heart the message and reply with barely alive, all safe and decisions past 9 pm weren't the best" you say before hiding your head back in Landos chest, Lando types it out, chuckling under his breath. "You sure you don’t want me to add that Luke’s currently spooning a baguette in a race helmet?"

"No," Jack grunts from the other side of the couch, "That would just raise more questions." you nodded along before opening up disney+ on the tv You all opted to put on the movie cars and try and recover from last nights choices.

please reblog, like and comment 🫶

#send in requests #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #y/n hughes x lando norris #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #lando norris imagine #f1 #imagines #max fewtrell #ln4 #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #hughes reader

172 notes · View notes

mcondance · 2 days ago

Note

Smoke with barely legal virgin reader who he makes ride them for their first time since they “wanted to be grown” and “was talking all that slick shit at the juke joint”

don’t hate me but i feel like this is more elias than elijah sorry friend tw big ass age gap, reader is quite literally freshly 18 so talks of that, elias is a nasty man, reader is a virgin, uses of “girl”, written in a southern accent

oh my god yeah.

just turned 18 a little less than 3 months ago, can still smell the milk on your breath when he’s close enough. can still see that sparkle in your eyes, the same sparkle you look at him with when you’re talking shit that gets his dick hard and so obviously trying to make yourself look older than you are.

elias can see through it all. with those wild eyes, he can see straight through that silky little dress and right on through to your body underneath it, the body you slink over the counter top in a vain attempt to gain his attention.

unfortunately, fortunately, for you, elias has never been the twin to make the rational decisions.

“she a baby,” smoke tells him, ducked off in the corner the day elias starts to give in, but elias is chewing on a toothpick imagining what he could do to you.

“shit,” he starts, “that girl know what she wan’. can’t give her nothin’ she ain’ been askin’ fa’.”

“gon’ give that girl what she askin’ for and see how that work ou’.”

elias ain’t never listened to his brother when it came to women, and he don’t plan on starting now. not when you ‘bout the easiest lil’ thing he’s seen in a long time.

he don’t know how it happened and you don’t either, but someway you end up at the little place he bought with straight cash, that little green dress he’s had the eyes for decorating the body he’s soon to have his way with.

he isn’t your first kiss, but he’s your first kiss like this. he don’t care that you haven’t been touched, he don’t care that the way he’s kissing you and licking into your mouth is definitely too much for a virgin like you, he don’t even care that you’re obviously overwhelmed and biting off more than you can chew.

he loves this shit.

he don’t respect you enough to take your clothes off, and he damn sure don’t respect you enough to even lead you to his bed. right on the couch is how he’s gonna take it from you, thighs spread under you while you grind on him and think to yourself about just how you’re gonna take all of it.

“ay, girl, get this up,” he slurs against your lips, pulling at your dress before he reaches for his belt buckle. desperate and willing, you meet him there and help him loosen his belt and then you’re reaching into his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. overzealous little thing, excited, eyes bigger than your cunt.

“you grown, girl?” he asks, rubbing himself through your oh-so abundant wetness, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, golds shinin’ like his blown eyes. you nod, whining as you feel his tip glide against you like cold whiskey down your throat. “yeah?”

you feel grown right now. grown as hell. growner than you’ve ever felt before.

“lemme see how grown you is, then. baby talkin’ all tha’ slick shit at the joint, lemme put that money where that mouth is.”

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. but stack’s so fine and it’s now or never, you can’t go back on your word after all you said and done. you wouldn’t go back even if you wanted to. you ain’t letting this go.

elias fucks you like you’ve been takin’ dick for years. hands wrapped around you, big hand pressed to the middle of your back, he stuffs you full and has you choking on your words, has your thoughts jumbling and folding in on each other. green fabric slips down your shoulders and leaves your whole chest bare for his disgusting eyes.

elias feels powerful, and vile all the same. goddamn cradle robber and he don’t feel nothing but pride and power.

“you just a baby, girl, don’ know nothing. but i’ll teach ya’. i’ll teach you good, girl. learn you everythang you wanna know.”

#elias moore smut #elias stack moore smut #elias moore x reader #elias stack moore x reader #sinners smut #— 🪽#mcondance 2025 #💌;#anon #tw age gap #tw power imbalance

152 notes · View notes

sunnybunnybabygirl · 2 days ago

Text

Babies For My Baby~

Bang Chan x chubby fem!reader smut.

Request status: open

Unprotected sex, breeding kink, use of the word slut.

Full masterlist

Stray Kids masterlist

Enjoy, sinners ;)

Love, Bunny

You and Chan, or as you call him, Chris have been dating for three years now. He's met your parents and you've met his multiple times. Today you and him are at a family diner at his parents house. He's wearing a simple white T-shirt and some jeans. You're wearing a simple outfit too since it's just a simple dinner. However, what his parents and siblings don't know, is that your hand is cupped over his hard cock through his pants. Your soft hand rubs slightly and you feel him tense up, his breath hitching.

He leans closer to you, his voice low and husky “Stop it, baby..” He groans softly, biting his lip. “We’re at a family dinner..” His hand covers yours under the table, squeezing your hand around his length.

"A family dinner that you forgot to tell me about until last minute when you promised we'd have a romantic night." You whisper to him as you squeeze more.

"Fuck..." He mutters under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. "At least... at least stop being so fucking..." He adjusts his seat awkwardly as you teasingly stroke him "Your hand feels so good..." He leans in closer "Baby, please..." He whispers softly.

"Fine." You pout as you reluctantly pull your hand away and back to your own lap.

He lets out a soft sigh of relief and frustration, adjusting himself discreetly. “You’re killing me,” he whispers, shooting you a playful glare. “You know I’m hard as hell right now.” He shifts in his seat again

"I know, I'm sorry." You say quietly. "But you promised me that you'd take care of me tonight." You pout.

He leans in closer, his voice a low growl. “And I will,” he promises “I swear to god baby, when we get home...” He shifts again, clearly uncomfortable “I’m going to fuck you so hard...” He says to you.

You clench your big thighs together and nod slowly, looking over at him with your big eyes.

A Few Hours Later

You two get home and walk inside after a long dinner with his parents and siblings. As soon as the door closes behind you, Chan pins you against it, his lips crashing onto yours. “Fuck, I’ve been hard all night.” He groans into your mouth. “You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now.” He says.

You whine and quickly get rid of your clothes. Taking off your shirt, bra, bottoms, and panties for him. His eyes darken as he takes in your soft, naked form, his pupils dilating with desire. He quickly takes off his own shirt, tossing it to the side before unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

You immediately get down onto your knees for him. You look up at him with your beautiful eyes with your soft lips parted slightly.

He groans as he watches you kneel before him, your innocent yet seductive expression driving him crazy. He grabs a handful of your hair, his other hand wrapping around his thick, veiny member. “Open your mouth.” He demands hoarsely. “Show me that pretty mouth.”

You obey him, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. His breath hitches as he sees you like that - innocent yet so fucking sexy. He slowly guides his length into your warm mouth, his eyes rolling back as he hits the back of your throat. “Fuck baby, just like that... take it deep.” He moans as you suck on his throbbing cock.

You reach up and cup his balls as you suck on his cock, bobbing your head back and forth, making slurping sounds and whining as you feel him hit the back of your throat.

His hands tighten in your hair as he watches you suck him so eagerly and innocently. The combination is too much. He starts moving his hips, fucking your mouth roughly. “Shit, look at you taking my big cock like a good girl... You suck dick so fucking well.”

"Hm." You hum against his cock. You live off of his praise, you love it and you're so so wet. So, you reach down and rub your clit. He looks down to see you touching yourself as you suck him, his mind goes blank with lust. He pulls your hair harder, forcing you to take more of him. “You like that baby? You like sucking daddy’s big cock and touching yourself like a naughty girl?” He asks roughly.

You nod quickly and whine more, trying to make him cum in your mouth so he can finally give you what you need. You need him inside of you, you need him hitting that sweet spot and rubbing your clit.

He can feel you getting more desperate, your mouth and hands working faster. He feels his balls tightening. With a deep groan, he holds your head in place and explodes in your mouth, his hot cum filling your throat and spilling out the sides of your mouth.

You swallow all of his cum and open your mouth so he can see. You kiss the tip of his cock softly and lovingly. You're so excited, so wet, so ready for him.

He groans at the sight of you swallowing every drop and kissing his sensitive tip so sweetly. His cock twitches slightly as he pulls out of your mouth slowly. “Fuck baby,” he pants heavily, “Get on the couch and spread those pretty legs for me.” He commands softly.

You nod and lay down on your back on the couch, spreading your soft legs and showing him your wet pussy. You're dripping for him, clenching around nothing. He watches your thick thighs spread for him, your wet, pretty pussy glistening. He sees your entrance fluttering, trying to find something to squeeze. He licks his lips. "You need my dick baby? Your little pussy hungry?"

"Yes, daddy. Please, I've been so good and I need you so so bad." You beg him, even though he didn't ask you to beg. You're just too desperate, begging for anything and everything.

He growls at your words, his cock already hardening again. He quickly positions himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. “Such a good girl,” he praises, pushing the tip inside your wet entrance. “You want daddy’s big cock inside you?”

You gasp and nod, grabbing onto his muscular arms to ground yourself as you feel the head of his cock push into your tight, dripping pussy.

He pushes in deeper, feeling your walls stretch around him. He leans down to kiss your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, his thick hips pressing against your inner thighs. “Fuck you're so tight baby. I'm gonna ruin this little pussy." He groans.

"Yes, yes, daddy fuck me." You moan breathlessly as he starts to fuck you. You wrap your thick legs around his hips, pushing him deeper into yourself. He groans at your legs wrapping around him, pushing him deeper. He grabs your thick hips and starts slamming into you, his big dick hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. “God damn, you’re such a fucking slut for my dick.” He praises.

"Oh fuck oh my God, daddy." You moan out as your pussy tightens around his cock. He groans loudly as he feels your pussy squeeze him tighter. He leans down to kiss you roughly, biting your lip as he continues to pound into you. “Take my big dick, baby girl. You love this thick fucking dick?” He asks.

You nod quickly and moan loudly. "Daddy, 'm so close." You warn him as you squeeze your eyes shut and scratch up his muscly arms. His pace quickens, hitting that sweet spot harder with each thrust. He can already feel your pussy fluttering around him. "Cum for daddy baby. Cum all over my cock. Show me what a good girl you are." He reaches down and circles your clit with his thumb.

You gasp and cry out, arching your back as you cum hard around his throbbing cock. You reach up and scratch his shoulders and down to his abs. "Fuck! Fuck so good." You breathe out.

He groans deeply, feeling your pussy clench and release around his cock as you cum. He continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. “That’s it baby, milk my dick with that pretty little pussy.” He grunts, his own orgasm building up.

"Cum inside me, daddy. Breed me, fill me up, please." You beg him, breathing heavily as you feel his cock stroke your soft walls, overstimulating you a little.

He growls possessively, his big hands gripping your curvy hips possessively as he slams into you harder, hitting that spot that makes you whimper. “You want my babies, baby girl? You wanna be pregnant with my big strong baby?” He pants, his abs tensing under your nails.

You nod quickly, scratching at his abs as he thrusts harder. You throw your head back. "Need your babies, daddy, please!" You cry out. With a roar, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his hot cum filling your pussy up to the brim. He holds you in place, his hips bucking as he empties his big load inside you, truly trying to breed you like the dirty little thing you are, begging him for babies.

You breathe deeply, calming yourself down. You close your eyes and yawn softly, very tired after that. He pulls out of you slowly, watching as his cum leaks out of your puffy, well used pussy. He scoops some of it up with his fingers and pushes it back inside you. "Keep it in there, baby. I want you pregnant with my kid." He says softly.

You hum sleepily and roll over onto your side. He wraps his big arms around your curvy waist, pulling you back against his muscular chest. He nuzzles his face against your neck and belly, inhaling your scent deeply. "My baby," he murmurs softly, his hand resting on your lower belly. "My baby, yes..." He whispers and kisses your cheek as you fall asleep.

148 notes · View notes

tommysversion · 3 days ago

Text

Stick To Me (Like Caramel): Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: set in the same universe as Forbidden Fruit. You don't need to read that first for this to make sense. Joel has his girl, his kids, and a life. Meanwhile, Tommy seems to be losing everything of late. After the abrupt end of his marriage, he goes in search of comfort to drown his feelings. And after years of ignoring the tension between you? That seems like a good place to start.

Content/Warnings: Past thoughts of adultery | implied age gap (not specified, can be as large or small as you'd like, but I pictured reader in her early 30s) | unsafe & unprotected PIV sex | oral sex (f!receiving) | dirty talk (Tommy has a filthy mouth) | slight daddy kink (1x usage) | implied breeding kink | slightly dark!Tommy if you squint | Reader has no description physically aside from being female bodied, feminine pronouns & body terms are used |

18+ Only || MDNI || KO-FI Link || Word Count: 2.6k

- x. -

He thinks something in him must be broken. That, or he no longer has to pretend to be something he isn't, put all that effort into pretending he and Joel aren't cut from the same damn cloth.

"You're just too much like your damn brother. Only better at pretending you're a good man."

That's what Maria had told him, before she'd tried to soften the blow by telling him he'd still see his son.

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do? Shut his brother out? He'd already been separated from Joel once before, when he'd first come to Jackson.

Then he'd almost lost him completely thanks to a total stranger with a poorly planned vendetta. God. He was never going to be more glad that Ellie and Jesse were faster with weapons than that bitch and her accomplices.

It had been touch and go for a while there, but Joel was back on his feet now. Had Ellie and Dina and Jesse and some sweet thing who usually works in the stables or the clinic. Younger, but devoted to him.

And hell, Tommy would never begrudge his brother a damn second of it. Not the kids, not the peace, not the girl. Because he knows exactly what his brother has survived, what it almost cost him.

It definitely helps push him into going after what he wants himself, though. Starting with you.

Tommy knows you're sweet on him. Knows too damn well that for the duration of his marriage he's kept his eyes and his thoughts to himself... for the most part. If he's ever, hypothetically, thought about you, and what you may sound like, taste like, feel like? Well. They're just thoughts.

Only, now, they don't have to be.

The man he was trying to be, the good one, who forgets he used to murder and steal and threaten to survive, he'd probably have words for him about crossing town - freshly reinforced, still rebuilding, a long fucking process in itself - to visit a woman far too young for him.

The man he is, though? That man tosses a friendly wave to Jesse as he passes Joel's house, sees the younger man about to go inside. Figures it must be one of those nights where Ellie, Dina, Jesse, Joel and his girl all pile into his living room for a movie.

He remembers when Joel thought he'd never get another movie night with Ellie again. Let alone Ellie, her girl, their best friend, and a woman of his own.

It puts a smile on his face as he carries on up the street til he reaches your house. He knows he had that family thing going for him, but also understands why, he thinks, Maria decided maybe he wasn't the good guy he was trying to be.

So here he is. Months later, sans wedding ring, knocking on your front door.

You take a minute to open it, dressed warmly because Jackson has a habit of always being so goddamn cold, looking relaxed in jeans and a sweater.

"Tommy." You say, like you're surprised to see him, but also like he's your favourite person in the goddamn world.

You don't use that tone with just anyone. He's observant enough to note that. Still, he gets the sense that he's a welcome sight, which he appreciates.

"Hey, sweetheart. Can I come in?"

He suddenly feels awkward. Just a little. A rush of concern that maybe he's been misreading you this entire time, that every soft glance, every little smile, every time you've served him at the bar and been just that little bit warmer than you are with most...

His thoughts are interrupted by another bright smile, by you stepping aside to let him into your home. Your house is the smallest on the street, only one single floor. You've never complained.

The entire house smells like something has been baking, he notes, as he steps around you and closes the door behind him. Cinnamon, he thinks as he follows you through into your small living room. It's cosy, a few books here and there, a record player.

One large archway opens up into the kitchen, a small hallway leading off to the guest room and bathroom. He remembers the layout from when he repaired your hot water system a few years back. Then there's the door to your room, ajar. He catches a glimpse of messy blankets before he turns his entire attention to you.

"Tommy? Are you okay?" You look up at him, your eyes focused on him; you're no medic, no doctor, but you're looking him over like you're afraid he's hurt and you want to fix him.

He doesn't think he's really able to be fixed anymore.

"Yeah." He says, then again with a little more conviction. He likes the way you're looking at him, the way your lips part slightly as you try to figure him out.

Later, he'll pinpoint this as the moment any remaining reservations vanished, but he won't be able to specifically tell anyone why.

Giving it no more thought, he closes the two steps between you, pulls you against his broad chest, leans down and crushes his lips to yours.

You make a little surprised sound but you don't stop him; instead you lean into him, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. There's a small part of you that registers that this is probably wrong, he's barely separated from Maria, but god, you're so tired of waiting and wanting from a distance.

All he needs is that little sign that you want this too, then he's lifting you up into his arms, carrying you the short distance into your room.

He sets you down, tugging at your sweater just as insistantly as you pull at the red plaid shirt he's wearing, the worn tee beneath it. A low groan rumbles in his chest as you run your hands up his bare chest; he's not all solid muscle anymore, let himself get a little soft in the middle over time, but you don't care, touch him reverently regardless.

"Fuck, honey..."

He gets your sweater off, your bra, drags you into another kiss before you work on the bottom layers; your jeans and soaked panties hit the floor next, then you're pulling away from him, sprawling yourself out on your bed for him, touching yourself, spreading your own slick as he groans again.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he undoes his belt, pauses just a moment to watch you run your hands up your body, play with your own tits, fully aware of his gaze and the way he's transfixed by you.

He tugs his jeans down, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he sees the way your eyes widen, watching his cock as it springs free, hard and heavy against his stomach.

Then he's crawling onto the bed, spreading your thighs wide for him. You whimper and he grins, tugs you closer to him.

"'s it, baby, c'mere," his voice is low and thick with lust as he buries his face between your thighs, groaning the moment your slick touches his tongue. He's dreamed about this, wondered how you taste for years, even though it's been so wrong up until recently.

The part of him that's a good man still feels shameful for it, but the rest of him takes precedence, doesn't give a fuck whether he's wanted this for longer than he should have, when he was still a good married man.

His tongue circles your clit, dips into your soaked pussy, drinking down your slick and shaking his head from side to side until his beard is soaked with you, your thighs tight against his head and shaking.

"Fuck yeah, sweetheart, taste so good-" he presses a soft kiss to your clit, sucks it into his mouth again, drawing another strangled moan from your lips. "Could fuckin' drown in this pussy and be a happy man."

His cock throbs against the sheets, pre cum dripping from the fat, weeping tip of him as he sits up, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, sits back for a moment and just admires the mess he's made of you.

"Need you-" you manage to almost whimper, reaching for him. He laughs quietly as he leans down again, cages you in beneath him.

"Need me, huh? Reckon you've been needin' me for a while, huh, sweetheart?" He drags his fingers through your slick, teasing you as his lips trail kisses down your throat, nuzzle into your collarbone.

He's slow and precise and it's damn near killing him to take his time.

"Y-yeah," you admit breathlessly, tilting your head so he can kiss at your shoulders again, liking the intimacy of it.

"Yeah? Even when you couldn't have me? You been lyin' in this bed every night thinkin' of me?" He kisses your sternum, nuzzles between your breasts with a low hum as he waits for your answer.

You make a little noise of assent and he laughs, a low rumble in his chest as he slips a hand up your curves, finds a hardened nipple and plays with it, rolling it between his fingers tauntingly.

"Bet you have. Probably had no idea how much I wanted to fuck you into this bed, huh?" He leans down and bites your nipple, drawing a little squeak from you, and he laughs. "Guess that patience is about t' pay off."

His tongue laves over the bite mark as he shifts, keeps himself propped up with one hand while the other wraps around his cock, throbbing and aching in his hand. Lightly, he slaps it against your clit, a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan forming when you moan for him.

"Tha's it, baby, fuck, c'mere, come to daddy-"

He groans as he feeds you his cock, inch by inch into your tight heat; you're so warm and wet for him, your cunt trying to pull him in deeper. It's almost a relief when his hips are flush against yours, his cock snugly sheathed inside you.

"Fuck, 's so big-" you gasp out, your fingers moving to cling onto his arms, desperate for something to hold onto as you breathe, feel him stretching you open.

"Deep breaths, now, sweetheart, c'mon-" he soothes you, nuzzles his face into your neck and presses open mouthed kisses to sensitive skin until you feel less pressure, less discomfort, just wonderfully, blissfully full of him. He feels the change, feels you relax, and then he starts to move, snapping his hips into yours, hard and fast.

You don't hold back for him, your moans loud and filthy and he loves it, loves the way you claw at his back, drag your nails up and down and cling to him. Fifty five years old and he's still got it, still got the stamina and the ability to make a woman scream for him.

He can feel your pussy tightening around him, as though trying to get him deeper; he shifts, lifts one of your thighs up and presses it against your chest so he can achieve exactly that. The change in angle is rewarded by a particularly filthy moan from your lips.

"Please -"

Is the only legible word from the stream of sounds falling from you, though he thinks he hears his name amongst it, too.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I gotcha. Go on now, y' can let go whenever y' want to." His words are a little strained from the effort, from how hard he's fucking into you; some of his dark hair is falling from the messy bun he usually wears it in.

You want to reach up, to brush it from his face, but your entire body feels like it's about to shatter like glass from the way his cock slams into you; before you know it you're coming apart around him, your slick soaking his cock as you gasp for breath, choking out ragged moans as your body trembles.

"That's it, that's my girl-" he groans as he pulls out of you, letting your still fluttering cunt ache around emptiness as he turns you onto your front; you catch sight of his cock, glistening with your slick, before he has you face down, ass up.

His big hands grip your hips and pull you close, one keeping hold of you as the other guides his cock back inside you. You both give a relieved little sound as he fills you again.

The hand not at your waist moves to your chest once more, fondling your tits as he starts to move again.

"Fuck, sweetheart, got such a tight little pussy," he pulls you up so your back is against his chest as he fucks into you, the hand on your hip moving to play with your clit as he kisses your shoulder. "Could just fuckin' die here an' be a happy man, Christ -"

The hand at your chest moves up, presses two fingers into your mouth which you suck, muffling your moans as you swirl your tongue, as if sucking on his cock. Just the thought of his cock in your mouth has you drooling, and he laughs a low rumbling sound.

"Dirty girl, ain't ya? Fuck, maybe once I've filled you up, I'll make you suck my cock clean. Y' like that idea?" He feels your cunt tighten around him at the words and chuckles darkly, "yeah you fuckin' do. That what you want? Me to fuck my cum into this pretty little cunt then make you suck my cock clean?"

You whimper around his fingers and he groans, pulls them out of your mouth and tilts your head back so he can kiss you; it's sloppy and greedy and you can taste yourself on his tongue, but you cling to him because it's everything you've possibly ever wanted from him and then some.

"Alright sweetheart, here it comes, be a good girl for me, c'mon-" he groans as his hips snap up, sharp deep thrusts that have you shaking in his arms, "- take it, honey, that's it, fuuuuuccckkkk-"

The last word is drawn out as his balls tighten, his cock aching and throbbing as he spills his load inside you, deep and far more than he'd expected, hips rocking steadily until he finally stills, taking ragged breaths against your shoulder.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy -" you say finally, when he lets you down against the mattress, curls his larger frame around yours and showers your sweat damp skin with kisses.

"Seen you lookin'. Don't take a genius to know what you wanted." He chuffs a laugh and nuzzles into your neck, "just hope I lived up t' your dreams, ain't polite to keep a lady waitin' long."

You suppress a snort of laughter.

"You just fucked me like an animal after I've spent years wishing you would, my tits are covered in your bite marks and I have your cum dripping down my leg. I don't see any ladies present." You smirk and then roll onto your side so you can face him. "But yeah. You definitely did."

A pause before your expression changes, becomes a little more vulnerable, guarded.

"So what happens now? We just... Pretend this never happened?"

It's his turn to laugh, shake his head as he wraps his strong, freckled arms around you.

"Never. Ain't goin' anywhere, angel. Don't you worry your pretty head about that."

And he's right. You're like nicotine to him; now he's had a taste, there's no way he's going anywhere without you.

#my writing #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tommy miller #gabriel luna #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction

150 notes · View notes

kissandtellus · 18 hours ago

Text

Give me another, Sweetness

Synopsis: Post-Shibuya Nanami Kento counts every new day as lucky, especially with his beautiful wife and perfect little girls. What’s wrong with giving him another daughter…and another one…and another?

Warning: Kento is a FREAK, Bweeding Quink, Overstim, Talk of Postpartum bodies, Insecurities, Praising.

Nanami Kento was a doting husband, the best. Even after his battle in Shibuya, he was still the ever-present rock in his wife’s life. He was back from work, his face pale and exhausted. He walked into the small, traditional Japanese-style home, his suit jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders. As he entered, he saw his wife sitting on the couch, feeding the twins. "I'm home." He said quietly, his voice strained.

She looked up at her husband, cradling their 7 month old girls in the crook of her arms. She looked even more tired than he was, but she immediately stood with the twins in her arms. “Hi honey. I fixed you what I could for dinner. It’s still in the oven to keep it warm.”

He watched her carefully, her gentle eyes and her soft features. She was the complete opposite of him - calm and sweet while he was dark and dangerous looking. He unbuttoned his shirt sleeves slowly, trying not to wince at the movement. He knew the burns hurt like hell today.

His wife frowned. It hadn’t even been a year since he got his scars and here he was, trying to work at a desk job in an office now, retired from Sorcerery. “Did you put on the cream for your scars this morning?”

He paused, his hands still on the buttons of his shirt. "Yes," he replied shortly, not meeting her eyes. He knew she worried about him, but he hated seeing that concern in her eyes. It made him feel weak. "How are the girls?" He changed the subject quickly.

She gave a soft frown. “Hana is refusing to be breastfed because every time she does, Hikari starts crying.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the pain. "Sounds like Hikari is jealous." He walked over to his wife, his steps slow and deliberate. He reached out gently to touch Hikari's tiny hand, her little fingers curling around his index finger instinctively.

He looked at his wife, his eyes softening. "You look tired, sweetness. Have you slept at all today?" He asked, his voice gentle. He knew how much she struggled with sleep, especially with the twins keeping her up at night. "Why don't you go to bed?"

“Absolutely not. And miss bathtime? Never.” She said with a smile, even though Nanami knew it was because she didn’t want to leave him alone with their girls

He noticed her subtle refusal immediately, a small smile tugging at his lips. She was always so careful not to offend him, but he could read her like a book. "You don't want me to handle them alone, do you?" He said teasingly, reaching for Hana now.

He scooped Hana up into his arms effortlessly, despite the pain in his burned torso. Hana giggled and kicked her feet, reaching out for him instead. Nanami laughed softly, a deep sound that made her heart swell. "See? She missed her papa"

Nanami watched her carefully as she stood up with Hikari in her arms, her breasts slightly visible through the nursing bra. He quickly looked away, feeling an unwanted stir in his pants despite his pain and exhaustion. He was used to seeing her like this - breastfeeding and tired - but his body still reacted sometimes.

His wife could see the way he reacted and blushed, pulled up his tshirt she was wearing over her nursing bra. “How was work?”

His eyes darkened slightly as she pulled down the shirt self-consciously. He knew her body was different now - fuller breasts from breastfeeding and wider hips from giving birth. He found it sexy as hell, but he also knew her self-esteem dropped after having kids. He answered the question carefully.

"It was fine," He replied softly, watching his wife bounce Hikari on her hip to make her laugh.

God, she was beautiful.

He watched her round hips sway slightly and her full breasts jiggle as she laughed with the baby.

Between Nanami’s injuries and the birth of the twins and everything in between, there had been no sex between the two. Not even a feel over the clothes.

Over 8 months without sex. No wonder he was hard as a rock watching her breastfeed or bounce the babies. He looked at her body again - full hips, large breasts. She was a walking wet dream. Yet, he hadn't touched her in forever.

He walked up behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. His hardness pressed against her lower back and he nuzzled her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of baby powder and something unique to her. “You smell good," He murmured, his hand slowly inching up to cup her breast through the shirt.

She gasped and pulled away, Hana still in her arms while Hikari was in his. “Kento! Not infront of our babies.” She stuttered.

"Then let me bathe them and put them down for bed," he whispered huskily, his eyes meeting hers meaningfully. "It's been way too long, My Love.” He gently took Hikari from her arms and headed towards the nursery, balancing Hana carefully on his other arm.

He put the babies down gently, checking their diapers and giving them their pacifiers. He turned off the lights and closed the door softly. He walked back to the living room where she was still standing, looking unsure and beautiful. He locked the front door and turned off the lights in the living room too.

Always the doting and protective husband.

He stalked her slowly in the dark living room, his eyes glowing with intent. He reached out and pulled her into a sudden, deep kiss, his arms wrapping around her body tightly. He walked her backwards until her legs hit the couch, breaking the kiss only to push her down gently. "Shh..."

He climbed on top of her on the couch, his body pressing her down gently. He captured her mouth in another passionate kiss, his hands sliding up the shirt to finally touch those aching breasts properly after so long. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck and chest.

She shivered under his mouth. She carefully placed her hands on his shoulders, careful of his burn scars. “K-Kento…”

"Hmm?" He unhooked the bra one-handed like a pro, pushing up her milk-filled breasts. He lowered his mouth to one dark nipple, sucking softly. He knew she was sensitive there since breastfeeding. He spread her legs with his thighs carefully, settling between them. "You taste divine.”

He continued suckling gently, feeling her arch against him. One hand slid down her stomach to cup her sex through the pajama bottoms, pressing firmly. "Missed this body," he murmured against her skin, grinding his obvious erection against her core. "Want me to stop?"

His beautiful wife shook her head. “If you stop I’ll kill you.” She huffed.

He chuckled lowly, a sound that rumbled in his chest. "That's my girl," he murmured, his fingers hooking into the waistband to pull down the pajama bottoms. He slipped them off along with her panties, tossing them aside by the children’s colorful toys that decorated the living room floor.

He lifted his head from her breast, looking down at you spread out on the couch below him. He bit his lip, taking in her naked body. He was gentle with her during pregnancy and after birth, barely touching her these past months in fear of injuring her. He was suddenly very hungry. "Fuck... My Girl..."

His wife closed her legs, covering her postpartum belly with her hands. “Don’t look…”

His expression immediately softened. He gently grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her belly. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses all over her stomach - the stretch marks, the roundness, everywhere. "Shh... You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered. "Open your legs for me."

He was being extremely careful and gentle, knowing her body had changed. He spread her open with his thumbs, looking at that soft core - it was different now after giving birth. He swallowed hard. "So pretty... even changed."

She felt her heart sink. Had birth really changed her so much?

She felt like she could pass away. “S-Stop staring! H-how is it different…?”

He smiled gently, pressing a kiss right above her throbbing clit. "It's different... softer, more plump. More beautiful, honestly. The whole area is..." He gently spread her lips with his fingers. "Swollen." He blew some cold air over her exposed clit.

She yelped and tried to push those blonde locks out from between her legs. “Kento you perv!”

He laughed deeply, nuzzling against your sensitive flesh. "Am I? Then why can I see how wet you're getting?" He gave your clit a gentle lick, making you jump. "I've missed this pussy so much, baby. Missed tasting you every morning..."

He pushed her legs further apart, lifting them over his shoulders. He dove back in, licking that wet slit hungrily. "Fuck... even taste different. Softer, sweeter..." He buried his face between her legs, sucking gently on her clit. "So fucking pretty.”

He ate her out like a starving man - gentle but intense. His tongue worked her clit expertly while his fingers carefully slid inside those gummy walls, testing how sensitive she was post-birth. He moaned against your flesh when he felt how wet and ready she was despite everything her body had went through to bring their beautiful girls into the world.

He started moving his fingers inside her slowly, feeling those inner walls flutter around him. He crooned softly when he felt your wetness dripping down onto the couch. "Goddamn, how am I supposed to last inside this pretty little cunt?" He added another finger, spreading her open.

His wife felt like a schoolgirl again, it reminded her of the first time they had slept together back at Jujutsu Tech. Why was Kento always such a gentleman? Even when he had his tongue buried inside of her

He continued licking and sucking on you, keeping his touch gentle despite how aroused he was - something about becoming a father had made him extra careful with his. His soft brown eyes glanced up her body while his tongue worked her clit. "Remember when I first ate you out like this?”

He was kneeling on the ground in front of the couch, her legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

He slowed his fingers down, curling them inside her gently to hit that sensitive spot. "On the floor of my room at Jujutsu Tech. You screamed so loud that Gojo came knocking." He licked around his fingers inside, watching her face flush. "You're even prettier now.”

He suddenly sucked hard on your clit, pushing his fingers deep inside you - hitting that spot perfectly. He knew exactly how to make you come from oral alone. His free hand reached up to squeeze your breast gently. "Come on Sweetheart. Come for your husband like you used to at school.”

He kept sucking hard on her clit, his fingers curling inside rapidly to hit her spongy tissue over and over. Within seconds, she was moaning loudly and coming all over his face and fingers, just like she used to back at Jujutsu Tech. "There she is…”

He slowly pulled his fingers out of her, licking them clean with a satisfied smile. "Fucking delicious. Just like I remember." He gently lowered her legs from his shoulders, kissing the inside of her thighs softly before moving up to kiss her tenderly.

He broke the gentle kiss with a playful smirk, his hand sliding up to gently cup her breast. "Though I must say, these are definitely fuller now." His thumb brushed over your nipple softly. "Motherhood really suits you My Love.” He nipped at her bottom lip teasingly.

He spread her legs wider without warning, pushing them back so her heels were on the couch. He looked down at her body - fuller breasts, wider hips, softer stomach with stretch marks, and a wet swollen pussy. He hardened considerably, unbuckling his belt slowly. "You’re so beautiful.”

He stood up, unbuttoning his pants to free his hard length. He was always big, but seeing her like this - all post-pregnancy and sensitive - had him extra thick and veiny. "You know what's crazy?" He grabbed his base, giving it a slow stroke.

"I'm so fucking turned on right now seeing you like this... all round and soft... I feel like I'm gonna get you pregnant again just by looking at you." He stepped closer, running his tip through her folds. "Is that okay? Your husband filling you up raw again?"

His wife pouted. “No way! You got your two girls. You were an overachiever and gave us two girls at the same time!”

He chuckled deeply, his grin turning mischievous as he leaned down over her. “Oh really now? So I'm not allowed to knock you up again then huh? Two's enough for Mr. Nanami?” His tip teased at your entrance again deliberately slow “Because fuck Sweetheart-“

Kento groaned at the gushing entrance welcoming him home.

"You know how much I fucking love making babies with you.” He slowly pressed forward, entering her inch by inch "One more wouldn't be so bad..." His voice got deeper, the glasses on his face fogged up.

He hated those thin framed fucks, thought it made him look old. His one good eye was failing him, but his wife cooed at him, telling him how sexy they were. "Especially seeing how beautifully your body already changed.” He buried himself fully inside.

He moaned softly at how warm and wet she was, gripping those hips possessively. "I swear you got even tighter after having my kids." He slowly pulled out, only to thrust back inside deeply. "Fuck... I wanna shoot a third baby inside you right now..."

Kento was usually a man of view words. Until he had a pretty pussy wrapped around his aching length.

He started thrusting harder and deeper, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Let me fucking breed you again. Give me another cute little girl to add to our family.”

Kento was strong, wired forearms flexing with the force he was holding her. "Mmm... Or maybe twins again?"

If his wife wasn’t cock drunk she’d probably smack his upside the head. Two little girls were so much already, but the way Nanami was drooling over her she could hardly say no. “A-another girl? Why do you want another girl?” She breathed out between harsh thrusts, her knees in her chest now in a filthy mating press.

He chuckled darkly, leaning down to capture her lips in a brutal kiss as he snapped his hips forward. "Because you look so goddamn beautiful pregnant. Havin’ another little girl running around after her sisters would be so fucking cute.”

His wife gasped out short and quick breaths, her body jolting with those powerful thrust.

He grunted with each thrust, his voice husky and deep. "Plus, think about it... another little girl to spoil... another little princess to dote on..." He kissed her neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin. "Another little version of you running around.”

Kento chuckled, the eyepatch covering his missing eye slipping under his glasses. "And another little girl to fuckin’ worship her daddy.” He moaned softly against your neck. "Another little princess who'll love her daddy so much. Another cute little thing to hold and kiss and cuddle..." His words made her heart flutter and her pussy clench.

His wife curled her toes, back arched like a bow ready to snap. He growled softly at her reaction, knowing how much she loved hearing about him being a good dad. His mouth found her nipple without warning, suckling deeply.

Like daughter like father. Hikari had to get it from somewhere

“Sweetheart, one more girl-ah G-God- so we have an even number.”

His wife stuttered under his punishing cock. “K-Kento three isn’t an even number!” She yelped at a hard thrust into her cervix.

He groaned at her protests, biting down gently on the sensitive peak. "No, but four is." He pushed you harder, hitting her bullied cervix repeatedly. "Fucking hell, you'd be so fucking beautiful pregnant with twins again." He moaned.

"Your stomach all big and round, this pretty pussy so sensitive and wet. I wanna see you pregnant again so badly." He buried his face between her bouncing tits, sucking a dark mark between them. “Give me four kids Sweetness. I’ll get another job, I’ll sell everything I own. I want you barefoot and pregnant in my front yard until the end of time.”

Kento was mumbling nonsense, he wasn’t even sure he WASN’T literally drooling on her tits.

When Nanami spilled his seed inside of her again, he pulled out quickly before shoving his index and middle finger inside her leaking hole, grabbing her hips and nearly folding her in half as he finger-fucked his seed back inside.

His wife weakly protested from her over-sensitive core, smacking his unburned arm through bleary eyes.

"Fuck... Fuck... Take it all back in, baby... Gonna get you so fucking pregnant." He fingered her rapidly, his knuckles hitting her clit with each thrust. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until you're definitely carrying my kid again."

He moaned softly as he watched her pussy eat up his fingers so greedily. His thumb pressed down on her clit, making her squirm and moan. "Goddamn... You're so fucking eager to get pregnant again... So fucking hungry for my baby.”

Her hair was sticking to her forehead, the humid heat of the Summer night. But she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

"Your pussy is so happy to be full of my cum again..." He slowly pulled his fingers out and watched his semen overflow from her winking entrance. "Look at how greedy she is! Already trying to keep it all inside so my sperm can hit the mark." He pushed her legs further apart.

He watched intently as some of his white, sticky cum spilled out, running down her crack and onto the couch. He immediately pushed his fingers back inside, forcing more of his hot semen back into her womb.

“There, keep it inside Sweetness. Fuckin’ stay pregnant. Give me another kid.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fanart #jjk fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut

147 notes · View notes