#when me and any of my friends meet up n take a pill together or smthn it's always so sweet it's just like

[intheorangebedroom]

Tonight you belong to me, chapter 2

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town. 

Two months have passed since your first time at the motel with Frankie. What has changed, what hasn't. Who are you now?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞 PLEASE, see series masterlist for extensive trigger warnings.

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 How are you all? Gentle reminder that our Reader is an OFC. In this chapter, we get to know her better, and there are indirect physical descriptions of her. Sincerest apologies to anyone who knows Tampa. I did a lot of research, but I'm afraid my ignorance will still show… I swear I did my best. Raul is real, though. He's a friend of a very dear friend and he lives in Paris.

@frannyzooey my love, as always, I am in your debt. Thank you for your help. I love you more than words 🧡

I hope you enjoy this one, Orange besties, it made me sweat blood, @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0 had to listen to my constant whining to put me on life support. Ily 🧡

Word count: 8.6k

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Chapter 2: Closer

The traffic is dense, but you spot Ava’s red Toyota as soon as it turns into E 7th avenue. 

On any given Saturday, the upbeat neighborhood is bustling with cheerful crowds of leisured weekenders and hip thirty-something. On this particular Saturday, the first after Thanksgiving, the streets are a vision from hell. 

There’s a constant ballet of cars pulling in and out along the curbs. On each side of the avenue, the sidewalks are swarming with jittery shoppers, frenetically prospecting for good deals on potential Christmas gifts. You’re willing to bet that most of them will stretch their budget thin on useless, meaningless knickknacks. Generic trinkets without soul nor purpose but that will, for the first half hour of ownership at least, fill the void in their consumers’ existence. 

The traditional Christmas tree of unholy proportions is up and sparkling. Wrapped around the iron porch columns, electrical garlands blink in rapid sequences like luminescent spasmodic snakes. Storefronts are decorated with more or less taste. The temperature has dropped twice below 70. It’s that time of the year. 

The merry season usually finds you adding a generous helping of anxiolytics to your daily cocktail of little helpers. This year, however, you haven’t popped a pill in days, and everything feels… more. Louder, too vivid, more oppressive. Sensations magnified and emotions amplified. Which is, after all, what you were aiming at when you unilaterally decided to taper off your intake. 

Ava miraculously secures a free spot on the other side of the avenue, about a hundred yards in front of yours. You watch her parallel park, the maneuver surprisingly sloppy, given the parking assist technology the brand-new hybrid car is equipped with, and you wonder if you really needed to spend that much money on it.  

In front of your own parked car, pedestrians agglutinate at the crosswalk. When the light turns green, they move as one, like flocks of extras on a movie set, coming to life on cue when the director yells “action!” 

They’re not extras, however, each one of them is the main character in the movie of their life. Together they form a constellation of individual and interconnected stories, while you stand at the margin, forever exhausted, willfully forlorn. At best, a supporting part in Ava’s fantastic tale of eccentric adventures, but more likely a backdrop in your father’s gripping success story.

Although, your narrative has changed drastically over the past two months. You now got a part in your own right, unfolding in between takes. 

You wait until Ava gets out of her vehicle before you exit yours, reluctant to leave the hushed safety of your old sedan’s cab, even for the few minutes it’ll take you to meet with her and step into the coffee place. 

You wave at her from across the busy street until she sees you, but when she proceeds to jaywalk over to you, reckless and entirely indifferent to your pleading expression, you have to avert your eyes. There’s a crosswalk right in front of you, god dammit.

She levels up with you and pecks a kiss on your cheek, hitting your cheekbone with force, more headbutt than demonstration of affection. 

“Hey,” she says, barely stopping in her tracks before she pushes open the glass door to the coffee shop.

“Hello, pup,” you answer fondly, your words lost to the street’s bustle. 

Inside, the artificial air instantly pulls at your skin. The atmosphere is cool but dry, saturated with the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans and greasy-sweet pastries. The high-ceiling, cement floor, wide open-space is packed. The brick walls reverberate the ambient noises, and the late morning sun beams brightly through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, evenly spaced along the lateral walls. People sit in small parties around the white designer tables, sipping iced coffees from tall red paper cups with white snowflakes, large shopping bags at their feet. 

Trying your best not to shrink and shrivel from the multiple overwhelming stimuli, you focus on Ava’s back, walking behind her as she leads the way to a free table at the rear of the coffee shop, between the counter and one of the windows. There’s a regal quality to her gait and the way she carries herself, not unlike your father, the resemblance enhanced by her preference for masculine clothing, and you have to love the irony, given how much she hates the man. She has your mother’s beauty, though. The same luxurious dark hair, fair, flawless skin, and wide green eyes, her frame tall, her figure athletic. She’s the masterpiece. Next to her, you look like a clumsy first draft, with blurry edges and hesitant features.

She throws her jean jacket on the back of her chair and collapses on her seat with a theatrical sigh. 

Across from her, you sit down gingerly on the edge of the hard wooden chair, balancing your weight around the sore and delicious ghost sensation of Frankie between your hips. 

“You look good,” you start. 

“Yeah, you too!” she exclaims, like it’s unexpected, “tired but like, good. Are you getting any sleep?”

You smile, waving your hand dismissively. 

“Don’t we have to go to the counter to order?”

“No, it’s fine,” she answers, “they serve at the table. I’m having an oat milk matte, what do you want?”

“An espresso, I think.”

Right on cue, a young woman dressed in a black cropped top and black skinny jeans presents herself at your table and proceeds to tap in your order on a rectangular electronic device. Her long acrylic nails hit the screen with a rapid succession of click-click-click. The sound brings you back to your parents' dining-room, the large table standing like an angular island on the shiny square of reflective tiles, in the middle of a shag carpet ocean. Your mother’s nails, painted in Revlon Desirable #150, rattling impatiently over the lacquered surface of the dining table near her untouched plate and a glass of G&T sweating with condensation. She never ate her food. She drank even when she was pregnant. 

Your fingers find the back of your knee and pinch the thin skin there, so hard you flinch. 

The waitress waltzes off, and Ava returns her full attention to you. 

“I’m happy to see you,” she offers, and you smile softly at her uncustomary expression of affection. Your chest expends. “It’s been a while.”

There’s no reproach in her tone, but you are usually the one expressing ill-concealed concern over her long silences, and the reversal in your dynamic throws you off. Guilts gnaws at you. You choose defense. 

“You were away.”

“Yeah, but like, I came back three weeks ago.”

Three weeks. Your smile fades and you slump in your chair, running a quick mental calculation. 

Time has never been an easy concept for you to grasp, but until recently, you’ve managed to remain afloat and functioning, on a practical level at least, amidst a society that revolves around schedules and timetables. The watch on your wrist, yearly organizers, recently and reluctantly replaced by the iCal app on your phone, sticky notes, tin boxes filled with tickets stubs… All clutches to your failing memory, anything to keep you tethered against an overpowering and primal instinct to escape, let go, drift away. And perhaps, most of your exhaustion stems from this endless swimming-race against the current. 

Lately, your inability to remember appointments, to navigate time and hold an effective grasp on reality has reached a new high. For the past two months, your life has revolved around Friday nights and the sound of a red pickup truck pulling in and out of a decrepit motel’s parking, tires screeching on the gravel. Inside this timeframe, your entire life is contained. Around it, the days stretch, spiral, and blend. And you’ve lost all motivation and interest in any counter-current swimming. 

You frown slightly, scanning her face, but she doesn’t let on anything out of the ordinary. After all, if she genuinely worried, if she so badly needed to see you, she could have given you a call. You were the one to reach out and ask to see her this morning. 

Something’s different about her, in the way she holds herself straighter on her seat, with her legs crossed and her head tilted to the side, exposing the undercut she got before the summer. You’re still not entirely sure if this was the bold fashion statement she claimed it to be, rather than a dramatic reaction to her girlfriend moving back to New York. With Ava, it could be both. She’s not wearing any makeup today, her face looks disarmingly young, and the concern she’s expressed, however subtle, churns your insides with guilt and affection. 

You plaster a polite smile on your face. 

“Well, I’m here now. It’s good to see you, too. Tell me, how was New York? How’s Polly?”

The waitress returns with the pastries and beverages you ordered, and Ava begins to narrate her two-week trip to the big city. She speaks fast, punctuating her words with large gestures to describe the cultural buoyancy, the hip neighborhoods and her thrifts finds, the street food and the refined, cutting-edge restaurants, how everything is bigger there, faster and better, how she fell safe walking hand in hand with Polly, the clubs, the galleries, the weather, crisp air and chilly winds from the north, a refreshing, comforting seasonality to pace the existence. 

“I was fucking crying when I boarded the plane back, you have no idea.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You don’t miss her too much?” 

She doesn’t answer, and something in the way she avoids your gaze makes you frown again. 

Polly and you have always gotten along well. You genuinely appreciate her solar personality and her worldly conversation. Their encounter four years ago had been the silver-lining in an otherwise horrendous year. The happy, coincidental consequence of a chain of events that had been years in the making. 

When Ava dropped out of college halfway through her freshman year, it provided your father with the excuse he had been waiting for to kick his own child out of his house. You had seen it coming. In fact, you had spent your entire adult life shielding Ava from the paternal discontent, investing all your strength into becoming the son and successor he had wished for, and that neither of you could ever be. 

Ava, however, had never put in the effort. She didn’t fit into the family portrait. She never had. You didn’t want her to, and she simply couldn’t. Too rebellious, decidedly unconventional, and, well, queer, to boot. Your father had spent years formatting you and there she was, standing proud, strengthened by your unconditional support, a glaring highlight of your diverging values, a breathing reminder of his failure with you both. 

In the aftermath of the fall-out, Adrian had refused to take her in, and she had spent days out of your sight, sleeping god knows where. Eventually, you’d dug your heels in, as you only ever did when Ava was concerned and her wellbeing on the line, and obtained that she move in with you. The cohabitation hadn’t gone smoothly in the least. As usual, Adrian was more concerned about potentially upsetting your father than making you happy. You were once again caught between crossed fires.  

The strained situation with your fiancé notwithstanding, Ava couldn't spend her time sitting idly at home. You had pleaded with her for weeks before she agreed to resume her studies. Only this time, it had to be with your funding. The realization that you didn’t have any consequential money of your own had been brutal, even though it shouldn’t have been a surprise: you lived in Adrian’s apartment, and were employed by your father, who refused point-blank to let you sell some of your company shares, knowing the money would go to his estranged daughter. 

All you could afford was Hillsborough Community College, but things had eventually taken a turn for the better when Ava and Polly had met. Polly was teaching psychology, waiting for a tenure that she would never be granted. Because of the 20-year age gap between them, she insisted Ava graduate with her BA before they started properly dating. And when they did, the improvement in your sister’s mental state and overall balance was immediately noticeable. 

Calm and collected, affectionate and thoughtful, Polly grounds your young sibling. She eases her anger and channels her energy into creative and fruitful endeavors, without snuffing her rebellious temper. 

And now, despite Ava being almost fully independent, with a job and a place of her own, you don’t know what you’d do if they were to break up. If one of them were to decide that a long-distance relationship is not what she wants. 

You lean forward, your hand coming to rest over hers, warm and smooth. “Hey pup, what’s up? Is everything ok between you two?”

“Oh yes,” she quickly assures you, withdrawing her hand, “and by the way, she sends you her best.”

Understanding downs on you like a bucket of ice. You suddenly feel stupid, pathetically naive, forever one step behind. Leaning back in your chair, you let out a short, soundless huff. What you’re facing is not a breakup, but the likely possibility that Ava will soon move out of town to follow Polly to New York. 

Ava is talking again, about New York you’re guessing, but you can’t focus on her words. Behind your impassive eyes and your attentive smile, your mind reels and wrestles with a downpour of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Pride flares in your chest at the prospect of your baby sister setting roots in a city as intimidating as New York, but it tugs at something else, something you’re too scared to consider, and an ugly feeling you’re reluctant to acknowledge.  

Would she hesitate before leaving you behind, after you’ve prioritized her freedom over yours? After you stayed so she could fly away? And wouldn’t it be the point? 

Your eyes travel up along the trail of small tattoos adorning her forearms. Dominos, tea cups, a white rabbit with round glasses, a flamingo, several thin arrows, a broken heart in flames. 

What’s your purpose, if she’s not here anymore? If someone else is looking after her? If your sacrifice is no longer necessary nor justified?

“How was Thanksgiving dinner? Did you have fun talking about politics with Richard?” 

You wince involuntarily at your father’s name. She never refers to them as “mom” and “dad.” She hasn’t for a long while. But today the sarcasm doesn’t fool you, no more than her feigned indifference. 

She’s not truly asking if you had to bite your tongue and smile through conversations that make you nauseous. She knows well enough you’ve got just enough political convictions to carry you to the voting poll, but hardly a step further. Listening to him is painful, but you get by, and your shameful silence buys you necessary peace. 

No, what she wants to know is if your family inquired about her. And you don’t have it in you to answer that no, no one has, not last Thursday, not for the past four years, not ever. Not your indifferent father, nor your inebriated mother. Not your bigot grandparents, not your egotistic aunt and her gold-digging husband, not even the housekeeping staff.  

You shrug noncommittally. 

“Who were the guests of honor, this year?”

The question makes you groan and briefly close your eyes at the memory. 

“Adrian’s parents.”

“No?! Fuck! They really want this marriage to happen, don’t they? Looks like you’re not gonna be able to dodge much longer.” 

She smacks her hand over her thigh, letting out a short staccato of a chuckle, as if the subject of your confinement through marriage was a laughing matter. You glare at her, crossing your legs and folding your arms over your chest, but the shifting in your demeanor goes unnoticed.  

Suddenly, her levity riles you up. She got away. You didn’t. And the only thing that carried you through this year’s Thanksgiving dinner is the perspective of being fucked senseless by a stranger on a dirty motel floor the following night. 

For a brief moment, you’re tempted to bite, and retort that, contrary to her, you didn't spend the holiday on your own. But the truth is that you envy her the privilege, and she knows it.

Taking a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to calm your growing nerves, you stir the conversation towards another topic, finding neutral ground with her job. You’re stalling, and you’re not even good at it. You sit restless on that damn hard chair, squirming uncomfortably, sweat prickling under your armpits in the chill artificial air, eyes flicking down to your watch every other second. 

“Do you have to be somewhere, or something?”

Your head shoots up. Again, you have no idea what she’s talking about, or how long she’s been rambling for. This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous.

“Listen, Ava, I have to ask you something. A favor. I have to ask you a favor.”

Her eyes widen at your sudden change of tone but she nods. “Hit me.”

“I need you to… I need to be able to tell Adrian that I spend… that I spend Friday nights at your place. Actually, I’ve already been doing it for a while. He thinks we see each other on Friday evenings. I just… I need more time. I need the night.” You grip your shin with both hands and dig your nails in. “It really doesn’t matter anyway, he’s not home on Fridays, he plays poker and he never comes back until like, 3 or 4am, and I just need— I need to be able to come home after him. Not, like, every week. Or yes, maybe every week. Just in case. If ever. You know?”

She remains completely still and silent as you wrestle your words out of your throat. Her face hardens, her wide, green eyes strained on you. She gauges you in silence for another moment, while you rub your clammy palms on your jeans under the table. Above the table, you do your very best to maintain a casual air.

“And what exactly is it that you do, on Friday nights?”

You anticipated the question, of course you did. You swallow around the sharp stone stuck in your throat. Your eyes dart down to your espresso cup. It’s empty. 

“I’m just taking a bit of time off for myself.” 

More time, to commit his body and his face to your long-term memory after he’s left you, depriving you of his heat. The tiny bits of him that add up to form the formidable sum of the man he is. The locks that curl around his ears. The dip in his collarbone. The little target tattooed on his hand. You’re never sure which hand it’s on, you need more time, that’s all. And you won’t lie to her, not exactly. You set your mind on that early on. But you will not tell her the whole story.

A large shit-eating grin slowly parts her plump lips. 

“Are you telling me that Richard’s favorite daughter is getting some side dick on a weekly fucking basis?”

“Jesus, Ava, why do you always have to be so crude?”

“But you are? Right? You are getting dicked down, every fucking Friday night? Right? Are you on Tinder, or something?”

“I’m not—” you start, but her excitement is louder than your exasperation. She uncrosses her legs to lean toward you, propping her elbows on the table and threading her fingers together, talking over you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? For once that something cool–”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” you retort through clenched teeth, raising your voice. Her mouth hangs open in shock. You don’t give her time to recover. “And look, if you don’t want to do that for me, it’s fine, it’s not like anyone is going to call you to ask if I’m with you.”

She takes the blow, leaning back in her chair. “Wow. You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer, shame and anger burning your cheeks.  

“Why you’re telling me now, then?”

“Like I said. In case.”

“I case what? In case I find myself on a Friday evening in the same place Adrian takes his cuntsluts?”

You steel yourself and stare at her. 

“Something like that, yes.” 

—

Two months. 

Two months of lies and deception, shoving your bright secret deep down inside you, shrouded under a veil of routine and normalcy.

Nine weeks, split into six days of stretched out hours, swirling languid and excruciating, like smoke from a cigarette stub in a room without air, and one day of counting. The minutes, your steps, your breaths, your heartbeats.

Saturdays, worn-out, appeased, pleasantly aching. Sundays rising slow like a lurking threat. Mondays-Tuesdays-Wednesdays merging, dragging and useless. People talking to you, expecting words, when your mind is filled with two glistening bodies entwined in golden hues. A tremor on Thursdays, the nearing promise, and by Friday morning you’re all frayed nerves and aching want, tapping into your pent-up emptiness for focus and patience. 

Friday evenings sliced up into a ritualized sequence of actions. 

At 6pm, you leave your office and head toward the employees' underground parking. There are 37 steps from your desk to the two silver-doors elevators on the landing. Seventeen stories down, including 2 underground levels, and 58 steps from the elevators to your designated parking place. It is crucial that you don’t allow the pace of your steps to catch up with the racing thumps of your heart. 

From downtown Tampa, it’s an hour and thirty-six minutes drive north on the 589, before you reach the motel. An hour and fifty minutes, two hours top, if the traffic’s bad. There might be faster alternative routes, but you don’t use the GPS, so you don’t know about them. 

Once you’re there, you park in front of room number 7, the one with the missing brass  number. You stuff your phone into your purse, which you slide under your seat. 

You exit your car and walk towards the reception in short, hurried strides, cursing the tight skirt that hinders your steps and gives your posture a subdued aspect, which is probably why your father imposes the garment on his female employees. 

The reception is a square room with an old humming AC unit, dark-brown fabric wallpaper, yellowing popcorn ceiling and a counter behind which sits Raul, the night clerk. Raul is a short man in his mid-60s. His dark eyes are reshaped into tiny concentric boot buttons by the thick lenses of his small, round glasses. His light brown, straight hair is styled in a bowl cut. He only wears beige Henley’s with rolled-up sleeves and indigo painter overalls. You’ve never seen his shoes.

Every week, Raul hands you the key to room number 2 without lifting his boot-button eyes from the charcoal drawing he busies himself over behind the counter, and tells you in a thick accent that “everything has already been taken care of.” 

Every week, you thank Raul, grab the key from his stretched out left hand, and chance a glance over the counter to see what he’s drawing. Mountains, infallibly, week after week, the scenery only varying in shape and shades of anthracite. 

And every week, as you exit the reception, you feel Raul’s boot-button eyes strained on your back through his round glasses. 

When you step inside room number 2, you flick up the two toggle switches by the door, turning on the lights and the overhead fan, and you go to the bathroom to wash your hands and check your reflection in the antique black-edged mirror. 

Then, you return to the room and you sit on the bed. That’s where you wait for him. 

You don’t undress, you don’t lie down, you don’t undo the bed. 

You know what he’ll do to your clothes. Anticipation trickles down along your spine all the way to the ripe heat between your thighs, and it travels right back up to tug up at the corners of your lips, but you press them together, lips and thighs, as you wait.  

He comes in after dark, preceded by the sound of tires on gravel and that of his boots stomping on the porch and he’s here, Frankie’s here, the rush of night air from outside when he storms into the room wafting over your face. 

He greets you with a hoarse voice, like he hasn’t used it all week, and he takes a couple of long strides towards the desk, where he sets down his cap. You peer at his reflection in the framed mirror when he combs his fingers through his dark curls, tense jaw, creased brow. You study his broad shoulders, the rippling muscles of his strong back, when he takes off his jacket and drapes it on the back of the chair, swift, precise gestures. It’s his own ceremonial, you let him have it, his transition into this world that you share. The confine of this room. Brown carpet, yellow curtains. 

When he turns to face you, at last, it’s always with a heavy, grating sigh, a sound so rough and primitive to express his relief, his hunger, the limit of his patience. You stand up slowly, unfurling in slow motion from your sitting position on the edge of the bed, eyes on him, forever and always. His want radiates from him in colorful angry waves, like a tangible, virulent aura, black eyes boring into your skin and you welcome it as it pours out of him and creeps up to you like thick fumes. 

You stand tall in the charged stillness of the motel room, offered, but not quite yet within reach, waiting for him to come and seize you. 

“Take off your clothes,” he says as he comes closer, tilting up his chin. The command rumbles low and guttural from his throat, and those words are your cue. You clamber out of your statuesque stillness, twisting your ankles out of your pumps while he tugs at your blouse, as he crashes his lips onto yours. 

His first kiss is voracious, unescapable, your face trapped between his cupped hands, and you’re engulfed in the taste of him, drowning in the scent of him, leather and soap and musk. And something metallic you have no name for. It’s intoxicating, you’re floating, losing both bearings and balance, like when you were thirteen, and you’d sneak to the downstairs pantry to drink your mother’s gin before dinner. 

On some Friday nights, you’ve already made it back to your glass prison when you notice a tear in the seam of your shirt, or a missing button. “Take off those fucking clothes, I wanna feel your skin.” 

“Yes,” you answer with parted lips, parted heart, parted life, jaunty fingers working your skirt open.

Beyond that point, neither of you talks much. 

It’s his name –Frankie– falling from your lips, a long but quiet whimper when you come, a whine of pleasure-plain when he inches into you, a moan when you plead for more, a whisper when you promise you can take it all. 

It’s his clipped orders, sharp and short. 

Open up

Push back into it

Let me hear you

I want you to come on it

And two words, always the same since that first time in the parking lot. 

Stop me.

Stop me when he pins your hands above your head or folds your arms in the small of your back, his fingers like shackles around your wrists, and he lines himself up. Stop me before his saliva drips down his tongue in fat drops between your breasts, and he straddles your chest. Stop me, when he closes a fist in your hair and slides you down along his hard length, your chest caving in under your gag reflex, beads of tears like precious shiny diamonds clinging to your lashes. Stop me when he angles your spine backwards with a sudden tug on your hair, when he bands an arm across your belly and ragdolls you to the floor to fuck you harder and deeper. Stop me when he ties your wrists to your ankles with the black zip ties that bite into your flesh. 

Stop me with the flat of his hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, Stop me with his thumb teasing your tight ring, Stop me with your legs around his neck. 

Those two words, a beacon guiding you through the week that precedes. 

Sometimes, when you’re alone, you repeat them to yourself. 

“Stop me,” you say, low and quiet, facing the mirror when you're applying makeup, staring straight into your eyes, so intently it twists your reflection. 

“Stop me.” A whisper, and a slow-spreading, carnivorous smile that splits your face in two because someone, at last, wants you beyond reason. 

Stop me. You will never stop him. 

He fucks you twice, three times a night, before he leaves you covered in him, sated and sprawled on the rumpled bed around 2am, with a nod and a husked, “I’ll see you next Friday.” He sounds calm at last. Drained. 

Once he’s gone, in the rumbling of the pickup’s engine and the screeching of the tires, your mental countdown to the next Friday is reset. You crouch into the narrow bathtub of dubious cleanliness, and ruefully wash him away in the trickle of hot water. You try to hold on to the thought of him, even more so than to the feeling of his touch. That’s what the soreness is for. It will stay with you until Monday at least. 

But in your memory, his face is blurred. Only his sad angry eyes stand out, dreamlike, entrancing.

There's a conflicting distance beyond his hunger. An underlying restraint beyond his roughness. Withheld intimacy. A reluctance to give into your softest touches, when his forehead briefly rests on the plane of your chest, and you circle his neck, or carefully run your fingers through his sweat-soaked curls. 

It doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to understand that if he wasn’t in here with you, he’d be somewhere else, doing something worse. 

Some weeks, you go through strings of sleepless nights and restless days of anguish, your mind spiraling to the agonizing thought that you are nothing more to him than an empty and interchangeable vessel into which he can fuck his rage. 

With masochistic thoroughness, you pull taut a red woolen thread to connect the clues of your insignificance. 

He doesn’t name you. There are no sweet names, no terms of endearment, and he certainly never calls you Marion. The sounds he produces when he’s inside you, that’s your reward. Deep guttural grunts, and if you’re lucky enough, they resonate through your whole body when he holds you tight and close. 

He never comes inside you. Where do you want it? he pants, when his hips start to fall out of pace. “Mouth,” you quickly answer, always, a greedy match for his gritty ways. And most times, he obliges. Flips you around or scoot over you and shoves his pulsating cock into your warm, wanton mouth. 

But sometimes, he doesn’t. The thick pearly white ropes of his spend spurt over your back, your belly, your chest. That’s when he’s got a mind to rub it into your skin. That’s when you want to believe he might have chosen you to be here with him. 

In those scarce instances, you are tempted to rely on your instinctual understanding of your relationship. Far from the toxic codependency that, according to Ava, you feed into with Adrian, what you share with Frankie is elsewhere entirely. Week after week, he presents himself before you, visibly wounded, willing to offer exactly as much as he needs to receive. The balance is perfect. No travesty, complete equality. The purest form of interaction. The most honest transaction you’ve ever taken part in. 

And thus, no matter how remote he may seem on some nights, no matter how dark his eyes, how clouded his gaze, or how brutal his hold, you can’t help but feel safe. 

The feeling thrums underneath your skin and finds an echo in his bloodstream. You hear it in your shared silence, when you lie side by side on the bed and stare emptily at the ceiling, chests heaving, bodies cooling off. When a shiver rakes through you, he gets up and turns off the overhead fan. Walks over to the bathroom to bring you a glass of water. 

He’s given you everything you wanted and didn’t know how to ask for. 

And when he looks you in the eyes, he doesn’t blink. 

Stop me, he says, and what you hear is, Trust me. 

He’s been quick to learn your body, and he’s greedy with your highs. He keeps you pinned down onto the threadbare linen with his mouth fastened around your cunt until your legs tremble and your throat is hoarse with your repeated high-pitched moans, the stubble on his cheeks scraping the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Bestowing pleasure, drinking it right back. 

Your body expands into new sensations, after years of a dormant existence, curled up within your outer shell into the tightest ball, the smallest possible shape. You’re spreading, stretching into your limbs, filling them in. Growing nerve endings that shoot farther along your extremities with each fiery kiss, each starving touch, each orgasm, like trees rooting in beautiful, intricate ramifications. 

The wild creature nestled between your lungs has a mind of its own. You’re developing emotions unknown to you until now. 

The tranquil contentment he leaves you with when he steps back into the night and closes the door behind him rapidly fades over the following days. By Sunday evening, there’s nothing left of it, and you find yourself shivering, deprived of his heat, unsettled, agitated. 

Your mind wanders to her. The faceless, nameless woman he drives back to after you’ve fucked each other free of your pain. 

Envy, tinged with hatred, pours ugly inside your chest, pressing against your rib cage, hindering your breathing, its heavy particles tainting your oxygen. 

Does he handle her with reverence? Does he use sweet names to beckon her into his embrace? Does he spit in her mouth, does she beg him to? Does he rub his spend into her skin, or does he stuff her pussy full of his seed?

Whenever you loosen the grip on your thoughts, you’re brought back to a large reception room on the last floor of another glass prison, stilettos wounding your feet, strangers with empty smiles and cruel eyes drinking from crystal champagne glasses. The excruciating misery of having to interact with Adrian’s colleagues, laughing at golf jokes you did not understand, desperate to fit in. Fighting your survival instinct, to tether yourself and not present a blank stare to those people you were supposed to impress. As Adrian’s fiancée. As your father’s daughter.

The effort seemed worth it, then. You were in love. Or so you thought. In hindsight, you’re not certain anymore. Reinterpreting your past is a temptation you try not to succumb to. In more then one way, you still love him.

There was a hushed tremor in the faceless assembly of tuxedos and cocktail dresses, and you saw her entering the room, parting the crowd. Slender, swaying, lush honey blonde locks and incandescent hazel eyes. Junior partner at Adrian’s firm, quickly climbing the ranks, flawless makeup and oozing self-confidence, she smoked Vogue cigarettes and when your gaze returned to Adrian, everything fell into place. You knew with a chilling certainty that this formidable young woman was fucking your boyfriend. 

Adrian had had a couple of flings in the past, but this one was different. He fell for her hard, a grown man in a teenage-like trance. Your blood left your face when you realized everyone else in the penthouse, and most likely in the firm, could see what you were seeing. 

You decided then and there that you were never going to marry him, regardless of what he or your father would threaten you with.

But even then, what you had experienced wasn’t jealousy. You’d felt trapped, and yes, betrayed. Wounded, in what little self-esteem you possessed. Thoroughly defeated. But you did not feel jealous. 

You understand it now, and every time you think of Frankie’s touch grazing the faceless woman. Every time you torture yourself into considering the nature of their bond and the depth of their attachment.

Would Frankie look at you the way Adrian looked at her? With blunt desire, unabashed, irrepressible thirst? With belonging? Would people around you know? Would they identify you as lovers? 

After all, a single glance had been enough for him to take you from a bar, to a parking lot, to a motel. To make you desperate to mean something to him. 

Does he miss you outside your shared time? Does he think of you? Does his mind wander to your skin in the blue morning hours, does he try to name your scent?

Deep down, you are no fool. If there’s one thing you’ve always known in this life, it’s your place. 

But some Friday nights are more dangerous. They give you too much hope. Prompting you to call your sister, for instance, and risk your little secret so you can spend more time in the small room with the yellow curtains. Wrap yourself in the dirty sheets that bear his musky scent, instead of jumping into the shower. Linger into that breach of your life’s continuum. Extend the delusion.

Last Friday, he buried his face into your core and drew violent waves of release that he kissed back into you, swirling his tongue into your mouth to coat it with your taste. 

His face was shiny with your slick and his body glistening with sweat in the soft yellow hues from the bedside lamps, when he got up to the desk and slid his belt out of the loops of his pants.  

Your eyes grew wide, but not with fear. 

He placed you face down on the bed, with your arms along your chest, and he trapped your body with the belt. You accompanied his movements, docile, curious, without apprehension. The metal buckle was cool on your feverish skin, and the leather smelled like him. 

Stop me. He was hard and thick, and he fucked into you in long, thorough strokes, dragging the round tip of his cock along your clenching walls, slamming his hips into the swell of your ass. With his thumb pushing into your asshole and his hand around the belt to keep you where he needed you to lie still. 

You came in seismic tides that quaked along your body in concentric ripples, from your wrung out core to the extremities of your fingers and toes. The sound that came out of your throat was unrecognizable, and perhaps it was his. Your mind tipped over into unconsciousness. When you resurfaced, his cock was rubbing in the cleft of your cheeks, his come leaking down the curve of your back, mixing in with your combined sweat, his chest pressing down onto your shoulder blades. 

You felt his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, hot breath searing his choked up words into your soul. 

“You’re a good girl. Say it. Say you’re a good girl.”

“I’m— I’m—“

“That’s it, say it for me.”

He was lying heavy on top of you, sinking you into the mattress, his belt buckle digging into your side. This was going to leave a mark. 

“I’m a good girl.”

“You’re my good girl.”

You will never stop him. 

—

Sitting on the edge of the bed, with your back straight and your ankles crossed, you wait. Eyes on the yellow curtains, darting beyond the dusty fabric into the warm December night. It’s yours. All of it. Yours until morning.

There’s the faintest hint of a bad taste sitting on the back of your tongue. Coppery, bloodlike. It comes in waves every time you remember how you twisted your baby sister’s arm into covering for you. But the night is yours. You swallow hard, force a smile. You want to be guiltless, for once. 

“Polly says you’re overly secretive. That you like to live ‘hidden between the folds of life’, as she puts it. Something about culpability being a coping mechanism…”

The words, delivered flatly after you’d stubbornly diverted and defused all her questions, had cut through the most tender parts of your flesh. 

“Is that her professional opinion?” you had retorted, your chin tilted up as if you were not bleeding inside. 

You swallow hard again. If you close your eyes, if you concentrate, you can almost hear it. The pickup’s engine, bolting down the asphalt, bringing him into your needy arms. You can feel the heat radiating from his solid chest and seeping into your body through your palms, resting empty and upwards on your lap. Your tongue tingles with his tangy taste, a trail of goosebumps breaks across your skin, anticipating his caress.

Frankie.

The daydream that carries you through the week, carries you through that very last stretch.   

Until the man himself storms into the room like bad weather. Dark, electric, a standing threat. 

One look at his face and you know. It’s going to be one of these nights that make you doubt everything. 

At first, the change in the script is barely perceptible. There is no gentle acclimatization, no ceremonial, no tacitly shared ritual. He doesn’t face away to let you observe his reflection in the mirror. But he looks like he hasn’t slept since last Friday. The crease in his brow is forbidding, his eyes are too bright, too clouded, circled in black and you’re dizzy with the distance you find there. Tension rolls out from his taut muscles underneath his clothes and you stand up, alert, if not entirely ready. 

“Get naked,” he growls, tugging his gray t-shirt over his head, his trucker hat falling to the floor and tonight, you miss your cue. 

Instead, you come closer, extending your hands towards him. You call him in a murmur, Frankie, but the wild thumping of his heart under your trembling palms cuts you short. 

The light flickers in his eyes, so you hang in brave, hang onto the thread of your touch, sliding your hands up his burning chest. He stills. His gaze focuses on you for the first time since he came in. Your fingertips brush lightly along his collarbone, to the dip at the base of his neck, where they linger, underlining the hollow shape of it, skating around his neck to his nape. His brow shifts, his jaw ticks, and you draw him in for a kiss.  

He jolts when your lips meet his. His hands grip your hips, rough and desperate. This is the part where you melt into him, surrender to his touch, but tonight the balance is tipped off. He licks into your mouth with a pained, muffled whimper, and your eyes remain open. 

You’re powerless, powerless to get to him and bring him back to you from wherever the hell he may be. And his distance settles between your two bodies, an invisible partition. It stands erect and opaque, projecting its shadow over you when he lies you down on the synthetic quilt and dives between your hips. His ministrations are detached, performative, mechanical. There’s no contained urgency in his handling of you. Empty touches, empty silence, and you orgasm weakly, the sensation floating on the surface of you. 

You can sense him, trapped behind his black eyes and this damn crease that splits his face above them, only you can’t reach him. He won’t let you. For every one of your attempts at a caress, at tenderness, is rejected by a shrug, a push of his hand, a shake of his head. 

Sweat breaks on his forehead and dampens his curls as he becomes restless, showing none of the familiar signs of the relief he finds in your release, when he hums softly into you, lapping at your entrance to capture what you offer him, what he drew from you. Impatience and desperation roughen his grip on you. He shoves you to the head of the bed and you scramble, sliding on the slippery quilt, curled on your side, until you’re caged between his rigid body and the headboard. 

There’s no warning, no Stop me, when he lines himself up with a stifled groan. You bury your face into the pillow and bite down on it to muffle the pain when he splits you open. He starts rutting into you with unrestrained strength, forcing through the vice grip of your tight cunt around his hard length. You try to relax into it. That’s all you ever want, for him to fill you up, to be inside you and around you, but that’s the thing: he’s not touching you. Not really. 

Instead of gripping the curve of your hips, or kneading your breast, or lying between your shoulder blades, his hands are clenched on the headboard, white knuckled. His bent knee doesn’t quite touch your folded legs, his hips don’t even slap against the swell of your cheeks.  

“Frankie,” you try, but your voice comes out thin as a ripping thread. It’s immediately drowned under the sounds filling the room, the creaking of the bed, his strained breathing.  

“Frankie,” you call again, louder this time, reaching to the side to grab his thigh. 

He jerks at the contact, sliding out of you with a hiss like you just burned him with a red-hot iron. You grab the side of the headboard to haul yourself up. Behind you, you feel him falling back on his knees. For a few seconds, you can’t bring yourself to move. You remain hunched over, fingers wrapped so tightly on the hardboard, your nails digging into the cheap, tender wood. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you turn around to face him. 

Your heart sinks and chatters at the sight of him, of his glassy, pleading eyes that won’t meet yours. His chest heaves with exertion, and the weight of something else. He grazes a palm over his face, tilting his head down. 

“I hurt you. I fucking hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tonight, this is it. These words are your cue. 

“No,” you start, scooting closer to him as he shakes his head, exhausted, isolated. The gesture no longer carries the warning it did as he was about to succumb. It’s a measure of his failure, of the depth of his defeat, and it chills you to the bones.  

“No,” you repeat, stronger, and you offer him the only lifeline you know. 

Closing the physical distance, you straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. When his body stiffens, you harden your hold.

“Frankie… Frankie…” you coo, again and again, like his name holds the solution, and all of your devotion. You say it as you press your forehead to his, as you rub your cheek against his stubble, as you nuzzle the sharp edge of his nose, and trace his plush lips with yours. 

Until his shoulders sag under your embrace, until you feel the choked up breath that quakes his chest, you keep repeating his name. A few minutes, or an infinity of seconds, time doesn’t matter anymore. The night is yours, your skins are glued together in the soft yellow light. 

His arms circle your waist, hesitant at first, but you encourage him, raking your fingers through his hair, twining them into his soft curls. He lets you, he gives in, tucking his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales you there, raising the soft hair on your nape. His voice is broken when he speaks.

“I’m not–” 

“Frankie don’t, please don’t,” you cut in. 

You know the words that are piling bitter and desperate on his tongue, know them on an instinctual level. You feel them swirling, black and hopeless inside his head, you’ve known them from the very beginning, recognized them in the sadness of his angry stare. And you won’t let him pronounce them inside this room you share, you won’t let him give them any kind of substantiality. Not between your arms, not against your skin. 

“I’m not hurt,” you begin, pulling back to see his face, to look into his eyes and sink your words of hope and faith into him, past the barrier of remorse and regret, “I want everything you–” but his brow furrows deeper as he clenches his eyes shut, and you trail off. 

Panic briefly floods your brain. You’re acutely aware of your shortcomings and limitations, of all the things you’ve never been taught growing up. How to translate feelings into words, how to express compassion, how to care for others. How to be heard. 

You take a deep, shaky breath, your breasts pushing into his chest. 

“Look at me, Frankie baby. Look at me. Let me–”

Let me in. Let me be yours. Let me mean something. 

Your plea dies on your tongue when his eyes shoot open. They shine with unshed tears, pierced by a ray of light from the bedside table, and for the first time, you see that they’re not black. They were never black. His eyes are brown, a deep, rich, precious mahogany brown. The color paints your vision, it flows into your bloodstream and courses along your veins. It spreads into your heart, gets tangled in your soul. Around you, the whole world disappears, along with everyone in it. There is only him, his mahogany eyes brimming with tears, and the feeling of his hot, damp skin against yours. 

His arms wrap tighter around your back, his warmth seeps into your bones. His hands find purchase on your curves, drawing you closer. 

“I want you so badly to be real,” he whispers, quiet and pained, like he can’t ask you this much, but you know that, for him, you’re willing to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. 

Swallowing down the tremor in your throat, you give him a tender smile, tinted with gratitude, colored with praise. You cup his face, fingernails scratching at the heart-shaped patch on his jawline. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you give him what he needs, leaning in to press them to his. 

Underneath you, his length throbs with unreleased hunger, and you sway your hips over it. He moans against your lips, the vibration trails down to your core like hot, liquid amber. His tongue peaks out, and you open up for him, like you always have, like you always will. A grating sound comes out of his throat, an echo of your gratitude, a mirror of your pain, a reflection of your loneliness. 

He breaks the kiss to lift you up gently, helping you find friction with his cock sliding between your folds, where it pulsates hard and thick against your clit. Your limbs turn to molasses, toffee soft and sticky, but your hips lock into a slow, languid rhythm, slick pooling down on him as you stroke him between your two bodies. His right hand skates up flat along your spine, to settle on your nape. 

He draws you in closer, closer than you’ve ever been. His heart beats inside your chest, enveloping the purring wild creature you still can’t name or tame. 

“Make us come, baby.”

A dry sob undulates up to your throat. Your eyes fill with hot tears, they spill against his temple. Mahogany explodes inside your brain. The night is yours. 

“Yes, Frankie.”

“Make us come together.”

****

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @your-voice-is-mellifluous @mylostloversbookmarks @readingiskeepingmegoing @lovesbiggerthanpride @youandmeand5bucks-blog @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @southernbe @blackvelveteen1339 @anoverwhelmingdin @casa-boiardi @nandan11 @jessthebaker @pedroshotwifey @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @noisynightmarepoetry @missladym1981 @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @survivingandenduring @jeewrites

#tonight you belong to me #happy frankie friday #tybtm #Francisco Catfish Morales #frankie morales #the pilot™️ #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales / fem!reader #frankie morales / you #frankie morales / ofc #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #frankie friday #will miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #william ironhead miller #triple frontier fanfiction

[worldofheroes]

An Old Flame (Part Two)

patrick melrose x fem!reader

summary: You tell Patrick you will go to England with him under one condition, but he can’t promise anything.

warnings: language, drugs, mention of suicide and overdose

a/n: okay I love patrick and I’m not sorry about it

word count: 1.1k

The next morning you find yourself back at the hotel, knocking on Patrick’s door.

There’s no answer. You knock again.

No answer. “Patrick?” you ask through the door.

You hear something, although you’re not sure what, through the door. As you go to knock a third time, Patrick opens the door.

“What the hell did you do?” you ask him, pushing past him and entering the room.

“You know,” Patrick mumbles, waving his hands.

“I’m worried about you.”

“Yes, you keep telling me that.”

“I’m serious, Patrick.” You turn to look at him, and you notice his right eye has swelled shut. “What happened?” you ask him, walking up to him to look at his eye.

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure.”

“Patrick,” you breathe.

“Yes, yes, you’re worried about me,” Patrick turns and walks away from you.

“What did you take last night?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“The usual suspects. Heroin, cocaine…”

“Cocaine? For Christ’s sake, Patrick.”

“I have to go meet some of my dad’s friends, as much as I don’t want to. Do you have an answer?”

“You remember that?”

“Fuck off! Of course I do!” Patrick shouts.

You stand there for a moment. “I’ll go to England with you under one condition.”

Patrick sighs. “Which is?”

“It’s going to be temporary until you show me you can put your life back together. I don’t care if you smoke and drink, I just don’t want you on drugs, Patrick. I don’t want to be constantly worried about if you’re going to be alive the next day.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” Patrick doesn’t make eye contact with you, “but I will try.”

You walk up to Patrick. “Thank you,” you whisper, taking his hands.

Patrick finally looks at you, and he lets go of your hands to put his hands on your waist and pull you into him. He leans down and kisses you - hard.

Your hands find the nape of his neck to pull him down to you as you feel his tongue ask permission to enter.

You answer immediately and Patrick pulls you even closer as your tongues dance together. You pull away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you.

“I don’t think you can get any closer unless you’re in me,” you smirk.

“Is that an invitation?”

“I thought you had to meet some of your dad’s friends.”

Patrick groans and releases you from his arms.

“I’ll meet you back here tonight, okay? That is, if you want me,” you tease him.

“I think I will need that,” Patrick says, once again wrapping his arms around you, this time from behind.

You smile. “Okay, I will see you then.” You turn around to face him, and he almost looks genuinely happy - you haven’t seen that look in a really long time.

“Before you go,” Patrick says, letting you go to search the room, “I want you to take a key. In case I’m not here when you get here tonight.”

“Oh,” you say.

“It’s nothing serious, I have this thing with Dad’s friends, I need to pick up his ashes and I've arranged to meet a friend from university for dinner. Quite a busy night but I want to see you after all of it,” Patrick places a key in your hand.

“Okay,” you nod. You lean up to kiss him again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I can’t wait,” Patrick says smiling as he escorts you to the door.

———

You get back to the hotel around 10:30pm, a little later than you had hoped.

You knock on Patrick’s door and let yourself in. When you turn around from closing the door, you see Patrick on the floor.

“Patrick!” you shout, dropping your things and running to his side.

He mumbles something. You look at the coffee table to see a syringe and various pills.

“Patrick what did you do?” you rhetorically ask.

Patrick blinks at you. “Y/n,” he whispers.

“Patrick,” you say, caressing his head. “What happened?”

Patrick slowly sits up. “I… wanted to die.”

“Oh, honey,” you breathe, running your fingers through his hair.

Patrick places his head on your chest. You continue to caress his head and the two of you sit there on the floor.

Patrick starts to cry.

“Shh,” you say into his hair, holding him closer. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

You kiss his head. “Let’s go to bed, Patrick, okay?”

He nods. You help him up and get him to bed. You shuffle through his clothes to find a t-shirt for yourself. You strip down to your panties and throw the shirt on.

“Y/n,” Patrick calls from the bed.

“I’m right here,” you say, crawling into bed next to him.

Patrick pulls you into him. “I love you,” he mutters. The two of you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Patrick isn’t in bed when you wake up. You get up and walk to the bathroom. You see Patrick in the tub.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Patrick looks over to you and smiles. “Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Are you ready to go?”

Patrick groans.

“I’m going to be with you this time,” you tell him.

“God, I need a Quaalude,” he mutters.

“We need to go.”

“Yes, of course,” Patrick says, getting out of the tub.

The two of you get ready in silence. You glance over to Patrick, and you see him take a Quaalude. He looks over and you look away, continuing to pack.

“Y/n, look, I will get clean, I just..” Patrick starts to say.

“It’s fine, Patrick,” you say shortly.

Patrick drops the subject and the two of you finish packing. You both leave the hotel and go to the airport.

As you’re waiting for your flight, Patrick suddenly gets up and goes to the payphone. You watch him from where you are.

At the end of the call, Patrick starts to cry.

You stand up, ready to go over but he waves you away. A few minutes later, he walks back to you and sits down.

You place your hand on his leg as he wipes his face.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Of course,” you say, kissing his cheek.

An announcement comes over the loudspeakers, saying your flight to London is boarding.

“Patrick, that’s us,” you say, standing up.

Patrick nods and stands up. As you walk to the gate, Patrick takes your hand in his. You give it a squeeze.

The two of you board the plane and head back to England. You wonder what is going to happen, and if Patrick is really going to get clean this time. You really hope he does.

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #patrick melrose #patrick melrose x reader

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Muke Angst Masterlist

All The Possibility and Promise (ao3) - galacticsugar T, 25k

Summary: Luke and Michael meet online and have a strong connection. But after they meet in person, everything goes wrong.

Camp Yellow Wood (ao3) - onceuponatime E, 49k

Summary: “So, Ash, introduce me to the fresh meat.” “Luke, Michael.” Ashton says, nodding to each respectively. “Michael, Luke.” Michael knew who Luke was the second he seen him, and when Luke hears his name and sees his face, his own face drains of colour and Michael knows he recognises him, too. But he’s quick to recompose himself, sticking his hand out and saying “Hey.” Michael doesn’t want to shake his hand but he does it anyway and if he squeezes a little harder than usual, well, whatever.

do you remember? (ao3) - lovesickcalum N/R, 1k

Summary: remembering a relationship can either make you feel on top of the world or like all its weight is on your shoulders. it happens to be the latter for michael.

floating then drowning (ao3) - lovelymuke T, 9k

Summary: As Luke stands over the bathroom sink and swallows one of the pills, he knows that this is it. There's no turning back after this. As long as he can make the bottles of pills he has stashed in the bottom of his suitcase last until the end of the promo run he’ll be fine. So he doesn’t worry. Instead, he just knocks back the second pill and walks out of the bathroom to his waiting boyfriend. He’s going to prove that he’s still worthy of being in the band, that he can hold himself together.

If he needs medication to do that, no one needs to know.

It's a hell of a feeling though (ao3) - thenewbrokenscene M, 58k

Summary: [AU, actor/model Luke and musician Michael]

After a recent scandal and the subsequent publicity nightmare, Luke Hemmings doesn't need any more trouble. He's just trying to enjoy his best friend's birthday party. But who the fuck invited Michael Clifford?

Jumping before the Gunshot has Gone Off (ao3) - tigerlily_sunshine E, 128k

Summary: (In which Michael’s hated Luke since they met, and Luke’s hated him back—except, somehow, they can’t stop having sex with one another. To make matters worse, Luke is dumb enough to go and fall in love with the man who hates him.)

Leave A Light On (ao3) - eliotthawke T, 5k

Summary: When Luke and Michael broke up, both were sure they could get over it. Reality disagreed.

or, "I found your phone and I was going to return it until I realized you’re my ex and now I’m not sure what to do" au

perfectly fine... (not) (ao3) - lovelymuke T, 7k

Summary: In which Luke is sick, stubborn and trying to deal with his problems on his own. Michael is unaware, exhausted and honestly kind of, just a little bit, sick of Luke’s shit.

still fighting it (ao3) - bisexual_jace michael/luke, past michael/harry E, 14k

Summary: Luke locks eyes with him again and whispers, “I want you to do it.”

“Do what?”

Luke’s cheeks warm. “Take my virginity.”

Michael bursts out laughing. It sounds off to Luke’s ears and he thinks some part of Michael knows it isn’t a joke.

When we were young (ao3) - CliffordAffliction E, 53k

Summary: Luke's older brother Ashton bullies him and even though Michael is one of Ashton's best friends he is always there to be Luke's protector

You Ain't No Friend Of Mine (ao3) - CliffordAffliction E, 50k (WIP)

Summary: Luke hates Michael and Michael hates Luke ever since they started playing on rival teams but it turns out that they don't hate each other as much as everyone thinks

you gave me hope, i gave you my life (ao3) - orphan_account M, 15k (WIP)

Summary: The one where Luke runs away from an abusive home and runs into Michael. For some reason, Michael can't help but feel he needs to protect the delicate boy.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #muke #michael clifford #luke hemmings #muke angst #muke angst masterlist #angst #tw

[j-ut-da-e]

Bitter Taste

3. Verbatim - Part 2

Summary - BD Han was born on October 1st, 1989. They were just a nurse refusing to use their full powers before they became best friends with Klaus Hargreeves. After driving him to his father’s funeral, their life capsizes when they meet the rest of the Hargreeves family.

Pairing - Klaus Hargreeves x NB!OC

Word Count - 2333

Warnings - heavy swearing, panic attack, talk of drug use, bad writing lol

A/N - {incoherant screaming} lmk if i missed any warnings

Masterlist

I don't know when I fell asleep, but it’s now evening. All I remember is feeling bad for Diego, not telling Klaus about the pills, and changing. I changed into what I think are my boxers that Klaus had stolen and my sweatshirt from earlier.

There’s something strange about this mansion. Klaus never seems to stay where I leave him. Even if we’re together, he just disappears. Honestly, I'm just glad my apartment is small because I could easily get lost here.

I internally groan and slide out of bed. My mouth is dry and my body aches. There must be an extra toothbrush somewhere in this place. I stalk down the hallway to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I start rummaging through cabinets.

I need Klaus to redo these braids. I run my hands over my hair, flyaways tickling me. The cabinets are mostly bare, only having necessities like toilet paper-

My thoughts are cut short by water splashing and gasping behind me. I spin around, pressing my back against the wall, screaming, "Jesus Christ!" I hold my hand out in front of me ready to defend myself, but just see Klaus in the bathtub, "Holy shit, Klaus! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

My heart pounds almost beating through my chest. I wait for Klaus to say something, but he stays silent, breathing heavily. Heaving myself up, I cautiously walk over to him.

"Klaus…" I ask softly. His eyes are wide and there are dark circles under them, "Hey, Klaus, are you okay?" I kneel down next to the tub.

He runs his hands over his face and through his hair, staring off into the distance. Bubbles surround him and cover his body. His breath becomes ragged and he starts looking around wildly, "No, no, no, no…"

Oh, shit. "Hey, look at me, Sweets," I say, holding his face. No reaction, "Klaus, look at me," I move my hands to his shoulders and shake him.

Klaus has had episodes like this before. He almost goes into a trance, but normally just slapping him or yelling would snap him out of it, and then I could help him. Comfort him. This seems different. 

An episode had never been bad enough that nothing worked. But then again, I had never been at the academy when he had one. There must be more ghosts harassing him here. 

Moving my hands back to his face, I plead with him, "Klaus, wake up! The ghost can't hurt you, it's okay," I take a deep breath, "Okay,"

The water is barely lukewarm as I step in. The tub is tiny, barely big enough for Klaus, let alone both of us. But I plant my feet next to him awkwardly and squat so I'm in front of him. 

I shake his shoulders again, "Hey! It's BD, I need you to wake up now!"

I look around the room frantically, trying to find something, anything that could help. But my eyes land back on Klaus, he was looking right through me. Like I'm not even here, tears rolling down his cheeks.

A crazy thought forms in my mind. Goddammit. I shake him one more time before returning my hands to his face and apologizing. 

Closing the space between us, I press my lips to his. Effectively breaking the one boundary I had set with him. Sure, we'd seen each naked more times than we could count, slept in the same bed together about the same amount and people mistook us for a married couple. But a couple of months into our friendship when he tried to kiss me casually, I put my foot down. I'm not exactly sure-

As Klaus's hands move to my waist and his lips press firmly against mine, my thoughts come to a screeching halt. My head starts spinning and it feels like my face is on fire. My foot slips and I fall onto his leg, soaking my sweatshirt and the ends of my hair. 

I pull away, "Klaus! I'm sorry, you-"

He barely opens his eyes before he's grabbing my shirt to pull me back to him. My eyes widen and I gasp before his lips are on mine again. Only one thought can form in my mind at this moment. Why did I say we couldn't do this?

I felt electricity running through me. My hands moved to his hair. His arms wrapped around me, almost crushing me to him. Now right up against him, I can feel both of our hearts beating out of our chests. 

We start falling backward until his back hits the tub wall. One of my hands stays in his hair while the other grips the tub to steady myself. We barely separated long enough every few seconds for air. My brain started to go fuzzy, if it was from kissing him or lack of oxygen I didn't know. Or I didn't care. I slide my hand down over his face to gently circle his neck and he groans. 

My eyes snap open as I hear what sounds like pounding footsteps outside the bathroom door. I push myself off of him, "What was that?"

"Am I dreaming…" he asks breathlessly, grabbing my shirt again.

I smirk, "What, do you dream about this?" I stand, water pouring off of me. 

"Where are you going?" He whines, holding onto my leg.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back," I step out, squeezing out my shirt and trying not to drip water everywhere, "It's probably just Diego running laps or something. And uh, here," I give him the headphones next to the tub and hit play, "Don't have another episode, and stay put."

I shut the door behind me quietly, pressing my back against it. I press my hand to my heart, still pounding. Shakily, I reach up to touch my lips. Uh-oh.

Shaking my head, I start down the hall. My pace slows as I start noticing bullet holes in the walls. I kneel down and pick up one of Diego’s knives, I don't know him that well, but I don't think he'd leave these anywhere unless he had to. So what made him? I stuff both knives in my shirt pocket and continue, quietly now. 

The stairs are thankfully silent as I sneak down to the entry hall. More bullet holes litter the walls and floor, debris is floating everywhere. In the doorway to the living room, a large man stands with his arm raised. Beyond him on the coffee table, I see Vanya. She’s looking up at the man terrified, blood dripping down her face.

There's not enough time to run over there with one of the knives. If I sneak, he would have already hit her again. Shit. 

I brace myself and hold up my arm, palm down. The man cries out and crumples to his knees, dropping the flail he held. My legs explode in pain and I swallow a cry. Letting him go, I try to catch my breath, rubbing my legs. 

“Hey, asshole!” I yell between pants.

He gets up and turns around to face me. He’s wearing a black suit and a blue mask that looks similar to a disturbing cartoon bear. I steady myself again and motion for him to come at me.

The man only takes a couple of steps before Luther comes out and stands between us, “BD, you need to get out of here, take Vanya.”

“Vanya, get out of here!” I yell as the masked man reaches us. He swings his flail before I stop his arm dead, “You don't have to worry about me,” 

Luther looks at me with wide eyes, “You-” sharp pain blooms in my elbow, and I have to let go.

He grabs the flail and throws it aside. Taking Luther by the neck, the man throws him to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vanya running. He starts towards me and I stop him in his tracks, feeling his heart pound. Even though he was fighting, he was calmer than any normal person would be.

Luther kicks out at the other man’s legs and downs him. While they spar, I fall to my knees to catch my breath. I can hear both men grunting and landing blows, but just barely over my blood pounding in my head. I am so out of practice. I need to get out of here.

I look up to see the masked man on the ground and Luther coming toward me as the man starts to get up, “Luther!”

My body screams in protest as I hold him on his hands and knees. With a quick punch to the back, Luther pounds the man back onto the ground. He comes and helps me off the ground and when I stumble, he catches me. 

“Are you alright? Why didn't you tell us? Does Klaus know?”

“I- Watch out!”

I see the demented cartoon mask appear behind him before he's swept up and slammed onto the ground. Before I can even raise my arm, the man strikes me across the face, bringing me to the ground. I can hear Allison scream Luther’s name. All of a sudden I can see Diego above me, he’s speaking and his words slowly come into focus.

“-the hell are you doing?!”

I sit up and hold my bruising face, “I guess the secret’s already out, I’m like you, Diego. Like all of you,” his mouth opens to say something, but he falters.

Allison lands a few feet away from us as the two-tiered chandelier falls onto Luther. I scream and cover my mouth. Fighting through my aching body, I get up and start towards the crumpled man.

I stop in my tracks as he stands, his overcoat and sweater ripping off of him. They reveal a gorilla-like body with solid muscle and long, black hair. Diego, Allison, and my mouth fall open at the sight of him. Looks like they didn't even know he was like this. He looks around, almost terrified, then runs off upstairs.

☂

After the fighting stopped, I found Vanya in the living room behind the door frame. She had a laceration on her head, it wasn't bleeding much but it could still cause a concussion. I told her I would go upstairs to get supplies and to wait there.

As I'm coming back I can hear Diego on the landing, "It's gonna be o- o-"

"Remember what we worked on. Just picture the word in your mind," that was Grace's voice. Did she get hurt?

I come around the corner and see Diego sitting in front of Grace, slicing into her arm, "It's gonna be okay…Mom."

I push myself against the wall again, but peek around, "Di-e-go…" she stutters, "Re-mem-ber…"

Her head falls to the side stiffly. I can hear Diego crying softly before I rush back downstairs to Vanya and Allison, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…BD said they were getting some gauze," Vanya says.

They look at me as I walk in. I've started to get used to that. I sit next to Vanya on the couch and start wiping away the dried blood on her face.

"So were you ever going to tell us you had powers?" Allison inquires.

"Oh, well," I busy myself with Vanya's dressing, "I guess I just didn't want to take away from your dad's funeral at first. And then- I don't know…"

Diego strides into the room, angry now, Vanya looks up at him, "Diego?"

"What are you still doing here?" He snaps, pointing his knife at Vanya.

"I was just trying to help-"

"No, you could've been killed! Or gotten any one of us killed," he says pointedly, "She is a liability-"

"Diego!" I snap, slamming down my supplies, "Vanya is not the villain here!"

"And you!" He yells, turning to me now, "Were you just never going to tell us that you have powers?! If those psychos killed one of us would you have just watched-"

"Diego, enough!" Allison barks with finality, “BD helped Luther, he could've died if they didn't help him!”

Vanya looks up to her sister, her eyes glassy, "Allison?"

She sighs, "I think what Diego was trying to say is that this kind of stuff is dangerous. You're just-"

"Not like you?" She asks, getting up.

"No, that's not what I-" Vanya is already walking to the door.

I get up to try and stop her, but Diego holds his arm out, "Let her go. It's for the best."

"You know what, Diego?" I seeth, turning to him.

He steps up to me, looking down his nose, "What? What're you gonna do?"

I open my mouth to scream at him, but one word stops me. Klaus. Shit! How could I forget about him?!

I turn on my heel and run up the stairs. I can hear Diego say something, but can't make it out. The bathroom door is open when I reach it, I quickly look in just to make sure. And sure enough, Klaus is gone.

Running to his room next, I throw open the door. Empty. My bones ache and my stomach drops. If they hurt him, there has to be blood somewhere. I can find him that way.

So I start searching. The bathroom, the hallway, his room, the windowsills. Everywhere I could think of that they could've taken him from. But there's nothing. No blood, no-

I pick up the jeans I was wearing earlier to change and feel inside the pocket. Empty. Where are the pills? He would never take them and just run, right? Did he find them and feel…betrayed? Guilty? Or did he really just take them…?

I let myself fall onto the bed. No. I've gotta find him. If he's not in this stupid mansion then he's in one of his usual spots. And if he's not…if they took him, those two psychos don't know what they're getting into.

#klaus x oc #the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #fanfiction #umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #nonbinary

[flustersluts]

god the romance of getting drunk / high together with someone,,,, being silly and cute and vulnerable together,,, i am Thinking 👀

#sdfhhkfjdskjfhd it's just cute ok !!!!!!! #when me and any of my friends meet up n take a pill together or smthn it's always so sweet it's just like #hugging and telling them u love them #and exploring places together i love it #anyway ask to tag !! #ik mentioning drugs is like dodgy i don't wanna trigger anyone #drug #drugs #drug usage #drugs tw #drug usage tw #umm yeah #alcohol #alcohol tw #alcohol usage tw #alcohol usage

[bambisgirl]

confident ; 52. for y/n

previous | m.list | next

warning! mentions of drugs and self hate

order is: written part, screenshots, written part, screenshots!

yeonjun is taking drugs for his anxiety.

your head is spinning.

i put half a pill in your drink that night, y/n. please forgive me.

your whole body is shaking.

i was jealous and stupid. i’m sorry. i’m seeing a therapist now. i’ll get better.

eve’s words keep replaying in your head.

“ryujin knows about this?” you asked her with a low voice, trying your best to not burst into tears right there — it was all in vain, though.

as eve nodded, confirming the fact that your roommate was aware of the fact that one of your closest friends put something in your drink that night at the frat house, you gasped and the tears immediately started rolling down your cheeks.

i’m so sorry, y/n. please don’t hate me.

your grip on the sheets tightens as uncontrollable sobs come out from your parted lips, the aching feeling in your heart making your hands tremble.

all of this because she was jealous and wanted you to embarrass yourself? it’s been hours since you found out but you still can’t believe it, eve has never showed any kind of interest in men before.

why didn’t she tell you she liked heeseung throughout highschool? why did she hide the fact that she began having a crush on sunghoon this semester? you’ve been nothing but supportive of her, you wouldn’t have started messing around with sunghoon if you were aware of her feelings or maybe even help her get together with heeseung since the two of you are just friends and nothing more.

hundreds of questions with answers you might never know frantically go through your brain. your sight is blurry as you take a quick look through the apartment, mentally thanking hayoon again for letting you stay here for free.

“it’s huge!” you said, turning around to see jay’s reaction. “jake is going to love it.”

“yeah, it’s really nice.” jay nodded, your excitement making him smile as he took a quick look around the apartment. “we’ll take it for the night!”

“awesome.” the girl your age grinned, her glare lingering on jay more than it normally should. “i hope your friend will enjoy his birthday party.”

“can i use the bathroom?” jay asked the owner after he was done paying. he insisted he should pay for the rented apartment all by himself since you were already buying the cake — like cake was the same with a huge apartment in the center of seoul.

“it’s all yours until the day after tomorrow so feel free to do whatever you want as long as you’re not destroying my mom’s plants.”

“by the way, i’m hayoon.” she stepped forward to shake your hand as soon as jay closed the bathroom door. “my parents are out of town for a few months so i’m putting our apartment up for rent since i need some money for my art classes.” you smiled at her honesty. “in the meantime, my friend is letting me stay at her place for free since she’s super freaking rich.”

“it’s nice to meet you, hayoon. i’m y/n and i promise i’ll take care of your mother’s plants.”

“thanks.” she patted your shoulder. “i really like you. if you ever need a place one day, you’re always welcome to stay here. i suppose you already have my phone number from the announcement.”

so here you are now, laying on the small bed in hayoon’s obscure room and feeling more miserable than ever.

what are you even doing here?

hayoon insisted you can stay here for free as long as you bring your own food and buy her a pack of cigarettes when she comes back from the art competition she left town for. she doesn’t put the place up for rent when she’s not in seoul because of safety reasons, if anything happens she’d like to be around.

you couldn’t stay in your dorm room knowing that ryujin hid this from you the whole time. you couldn’t go home either, not being able to drive for one hour and a half because of the fucked up state you were in. you also didn’t want to go to sunoo’s dorm as the only thing you wished for in this moment was to be alone.

you’re absentmindedly staring at the ceiling, remembering all of the times you and eve hung out and laughed together. were you a good friend to her? is she alright right now? did she even care about you as much as you cared about her?

you hug your knees up to your chest and lay on your side, trying your best to not stain hayoon’s pillows with your smudged mascara.

the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies, after all.

“please be here. please be here.” jay mumbles under his breath, hurriedly climbing up the stairs to hayoon’s apartment. why did she have to live on the third floor?

what should he do? bang on the door like a crazy man and scare the shit out of you or just lightly knock, hoping you’ll calmly let him in. are you even in here, though?

risking making a fool out of himself, he knocks twice and tries to catch his breath.

you wake up from the short nap as you heard the noise, quietly getting up from the bed. hayoon must be home earlier so you make your way to the door, hoping she won’t scream and wake up all of her neighbors when she sees your swollen eyes and messed makeup.

“y/n, oh my god!” jay immediately engulfs you in a tight hug, slamming your head against his chest.

you’re confused. “jay?” you lightly place your hands around his waist, dizziness taking over you. “what are you doing here?”

hearing your throaty voice makes him widen his eyes. “y/n! what happened?” he steps back a little to take a proper look at your face. “have you been crying? are you alright?”

and you don’t know if it’s jay’s familiar smell or his sincere eyes looking down at you with so much concern, but you bury your head in his chest again.

jay is warm. and you need warmth now.

he rests his chin on your head, leisurely stroking your back. “i’m here, y/n.” he reassures you with a soft voice. “i won’t go anywhere. i’m here to take care of you, angel.”

he doesn’t care he’s in the familyzone. he doesn’t care you see him as this big (step) brother you’ve never had because, in this moment he knows you’re in need of someone.

and he loves to be that someone more than anything.

previous (friends don’t look at each other that way) | m.list | next (heezoned)

notes: sorry for the slower updates!! the story is coming to an end so i have to plan everything carefully :’) tysm for reading & im looking forward to everyone’s feedback as always ^_^

taglist #1 (closed): @heetrbl @ultnishimura @jeonkoookiee @kdream-factory @jjhmk @cyuuupid @tangledbutterflies @miiiwaa @solitxre @anothershorthuman @abdiitcryy @axartia @tmrwxtgther @luvrseung @zhaixiaowen @pshwyfie @en-heart @hee-in @glxwingstar @artgukk @qtsoob @enhasengene @arizejkt19 @sunshine-skz @linsixie @bigtoewinwin @jjklvr00 @yeeunjia @kayalayadayla @gongiz @lordduckass

#enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen au #enhypen social media au #enhypen text #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #heeseung smau #jay smau #jake smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #confident.bgm🎠 #nsfw.bgm ☆

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man. 

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off. 

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men. 

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot. 

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried. 

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one. 

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point. 

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day. 

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man. 

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn. 

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering. 

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard. 

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above. 

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you. 

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible. 

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman. 

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath. 

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do. 

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks. 

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?” 

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something. 

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’. 

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch. 

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even. 

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again. 

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person. 

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark. 

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair. 

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins. 

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close. 

“When?” you question. 

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement. 

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine. 

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself. 

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half. 

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones. 

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response. 

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings. 

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused. 

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike. 

A man, as usual. 

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory. 

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will. 

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time. 

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand. 

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually. 

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment. 

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change. 

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all. 

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot. 

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again. 

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all. 

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately. 

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth. 

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something. 

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last. 

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed. 

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away. 

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him. 

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around. 

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly. 

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes. 

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time. 

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl. 

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally. 

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it. 

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding. 

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject. 

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food. 

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat. 

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question. 

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond. 

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought. 

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible. 

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump. 

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one. 

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense. 

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend. 

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe. 

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt. 

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded. 

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help. 

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder. 

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes. 

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips. 

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly. 

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it. 

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building. 

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

Thunder echoes, with  ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands. 

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes. 

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning. 

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it. 

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual. 

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think.  Please protect me. Please do this for me. 

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android. 

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are. 

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you. 

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now. 

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good. 

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor. 

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself. 

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

#detroit: become human #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human x reader #dbh fanfiction #dbh x reader #dbh imagines #detroit become human imagines #connor dbh x reader #connor dbh imagines #connor detroit become human x reader #connor detroit become human imagines #x reader #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #rk800 x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 imagine #connor rk800 imagines #detroit: become human x reader #detroit become human connor x reader #detroit: become human connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor imagines #dbh connor #dbh connor fanfiction

[emmys-writing]

I Can Help

Warning: Mommy kink, titty sucking, cockwarming, soft domme reader, super subby spence, riding, lactation by taking a pill.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

summary: Y/n and Spencer try out something new

The whole day you have noticed Spencer staring at your chest, which wasn’t unusual for him to do, but he was usually able to keep it to a minimum. He was also usually one to keep it as a private thing and not for a bunch of his profiler friends to see. The two of you had gone out for drinks with the rest of the team- Rossi was buying, why wouldn’t you? You knew your shirt was low cut and it made your boobs look good, it was the whole reason you bought it but you would definitely have to keep Spencers reaction to it tucked away in your memory. When you noticed everyone else in their own little conversations you leaned over to your boyfriend and whispered in his ear.

“I can see you staring” His cheeks heated up and looked down at his hands in his lap.

“‘m sorry..” He whispered back, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Just can’t wait to get home”

“I know bub, i know” You soothed, petting his hair softly and grabbing your purse. As soon as Spencer moved his head you turned to the rest of the group.

“Hey guys, I’m getting tired. I think me and Spence are going to head out” You smiled, standing up and Spencer following quickly.

The two of you said your goodbyes to everyone and thanked Rossi for being generous enough to pay. On the way to the car you hopped into the drivers side. Neither of you had to worry about being too intoxicated to drive because Spencer didn’t drink and you decided to just have some soda during your outting. After putting the keys in and Spencer putting his seatbelt on you noticed him become squirmy.

“What’s got you all worked up, sweetheart?” you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel.

“J-Just want you.. bad” he whined softly and put his palm on top of the bulge in his pants. You tsked and watched him from the corner of your eye, grabbing his hand that was working on his cock and holding it.

“You know better, baby. No touching for the rest of the drive and i’ll reward you when we get home” he nodded and held your soft hand.

If you asked Spencer that was the longest car ride of his life, longer than any jet ride he’s been on, and a longer waiting period than he’s ever had to wait. He usually was a patient person but when it came to you and your boobs he couldn’t get his hands, or lips, on them fast enough. Spencer bounced in his seat and kept his eyes on the road, becoming more and more antsy the closer they became to the house. He almost didn’t realize the car come to a stop.

“Go get naked, lay on the bed and i’ll be right in” You smiled, sending him on his way with a kiss to his lips.

Spencer didn’t have to be told twice before he opened the door and ran into the house and up the stairs. He stripped himself of the many layers of clothes he wore everyday and laid himself on the bed. Eventually you made your way into the room, a cheeky smile on your face when you saw him on the bed completely nude.

“Such a good boy for mommy, aren’t you?” You walked over, crawling on top of him and straddling his protruding hips.

“Yes mommy.. Can i get my reward?” He looked up at you with wide and hopeful eyes.

“Sure, sit up a bit” You removed your shirt and unclipped your bra, letting your breasts fall. You didn’t miss the intent stare from spencer as he sat up to be face level with them.

“Can i?” You nodded.

You watched as he leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, latching on and slowly sucking at one with the other in his hand. He rolled your other nipple between his fingers gently and moaned softly. Your skin was warm compared to his cold hands, the contrast making the sensations even more erotic for you. As your nipples hardened you could feel some liquid starting to form and being lapped up eagerly.

“You like it?” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of Spencers neck. He looked up at you and nodded a bit without removing himself. The nipple stimulation was great and felt amazing but you needed more, and you were sure Spencer wouldn’t mind getting a little friction on his cock.

“Hey baby, I got a better idea” You held his face in your hands, pulling him off your nipple and giggling softly at the excess milk on his lips. He licked his lips and looked up at you, a frown on his face due to being interrupted while doing something he enjoyed.

“Want me to ride you? Then you can suck some more after.”

“Okay mommy” he smiled and reached his hands down to unbutton your jeans. You helped him by lifting yourself off him a bit and shimmying out of your pants and underwear, throwing them off in the corner of the room somewhere.

“Already got Mommy so wet, baby.” you cooed, kissing him softly and grabbing his hand, placing it on your wet heat. He bit his lip and rubbed at your clit, feeling the wetness he caused. He slowly dipped a finger inside you causing a small moan. Soon enough he had three fingers pumping in and out of you, moans ripping through you and whimpers from him being desperate. His cock hurt from being so turned on, the tip was redder than usual and leaky, just begging to be touched.

“Okay i’m good, want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes yes yes please” he begged.

You chuckled, placing his cock at your hole and slamming yourself down on it. The both of you moaned and his back arched off the bed beneath him. You took a moment to get used to his size before slowly moving up and down on him. His hands wandered to your hips, gripping them harshly and pushing his hips up to meet your movements. Both of you were already so worked up from before you knew this wouldn’t last long, no matter how long either of you wanted to prolong it.

“M-M-Mommy i-i need to c-cum” He stuttered out, looking up at you with a blissful expression.

“Not yet, last a little longer for me and i’ll let you cum inside me. Be a good boy for Mommy” You bounced faster but sloppier, chasing your own orgasm in order to not make him wait too long. When you felt the knot in your stomach tighten you leaned down, kissing and nipping at his neck making him whine.

“ok baby, on 3 alright?” He nodded.

“1..2..3!” You came together, his seed filling you a few seconds off from at the same time but close enough for your liking.

“Good boy” you said breathlessly, a dazed smile spreading across your face. You stayed on top of his long and skinny body, recollecting yourself before pulling off.

“Wait here, i’ll go grab some stuff to clean you up.” He nodded, too out of it to respond but there enough to understand what you were saying to him.

You limped over to the bathroom, going pee to avoid any infection later on before grabbing a wash cloth and wetting it with warm water. Crawling back onto the bed you cleaned him up, avoiding his most sensitive areas as best you could. You placed the wash cloth into the laundry bucket and laid next to him, pulling up the covers to your waists.

“such a good boy for me, you can go back to sucking if you want” you whispered softly to him, running your fingers through his messy hair.

You weren’t given a verbal response, he just leaned over and latched onto your nipple sleepily. It didn’t surprise you when not even five minutes later you noticed soft snores escaping his lips around your puffy nipple.

#sub spencer #sub!spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #mgg smut #spencer reid x reader #sub spencer reid

[natsfirecat]

A Whisper of Perseverance- Chapter One

summary: your wife isn’t who she says she is. neither is your best friend. you can trust no one, but that wont stop them from trying to help (and hurt) you

pairings: evil!Wanda Maximoff x reader (current/past) semi-evil!Natasha Romanoff x reader (eventual)

word count: 1111

warnings: 16+ attempted murder, poisoning, lying, lmk if i need to add any more!

A/N: this is my first attempt at trying to write something kinda darkish haha but i’m making it 16+ for now gkhdffds might change that later but as of now, 15 and unders go do your book report or something idk but anyways i hope yall enjoy!

also, i’m not tagging my general taglist for this. so if anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, lemme know!

When you woke up that morning, you reached across the bed for your wife. Much to your surprise, Wanda wasn't there. You opened your eyes, then felt your face drop as you got confirmation that she wasn't there.

Normally, you were the first one to wake up. You rolled over, grabbing your phone to check the time.

6:55AM

You still had five minutes before your alarm even went off and you would have to get ready for work. You yawned, finally sitting up on your hands. You noticed the bathroom light on, confirming where Wanda was.

So, you hopped off the bed and made your way over.

When you opened the door, she set down her toothbrush as you made eye contact through the mirror. You came up from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist as you rested your chin on her shoulder.

"Good morning," you mumbled against her.

She smiled, then kissed turned to kiss your cheek.

"Good morning, honey,"

"You're up early," you said, still keeping your arms around her.

"I know... work called in and said they were short-staffed today,"

"How about we go together then?" You suggested as you placed a kiss to her neck. "I'll drop you off and pick you up,"

She turned around, leaning in to meet your lips in a quick kiss.

"Sounds perfect,"

With that, she left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

So, you picked up your toothbrush and began brushing your teeth. You were still tired, but the cold water (that, plus kissing your wife a few times) helped wake you up.

After that, you refilled the water cup to prepare to take your prescribed atorvastatin. Once you swallowed the pills, you made your way back into your room to get ready.

Once you were wearing appropriate work attire, you headed towards the living room. Standing by the couch, Wanda stared at you with a disappointed expression.

"We're snowed in," she said, pointing toward the windows.

You looked out, and sure enough, there was a blizzard.

"How about we both call into work today?" You suggested, but that only seemed to make her even more upset.

"We can't do that! They specifically called me today because they were already short-staffed!"

"Then what else should we do?" You suggested, throwing your hands up.

"I called Nat," she told you. "Her car does fine in the snow. She said she'll take us,"

You frowned.

"We shouldn't be asking her to get out in this weather! It's not worth it!"

"We can't stay home!"

"Why not?"

"I already told you!"

By now, she folded her arms and walked across the room. You sighed, sitting down on the couch. There would be no arguing with her today.

So you waited.

And you waited.

And waited.

Eventually, you had to get up to use the bathroom. When you got back, Natasha had arrived.

"Natty!" You said happily, running up to greet your best friend.

When you hugged her, she tensed in her arms. She had tears in her eyes when you pulled back.

"I'm so sorry,"

That was all you heard before falling down.

-

You didn't realize for awhile what had happened. You weren't sure why you heard crying above you.

"I'm here!" You called. "I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!"

But still, the crying noises continued on.

"I'm gonna miss her so much," came the voice of your best friend.

She reached down to touch your face, gently running her thumb across your cheek. The tears fell from her eyes onto your skin as she continued crying. You so desperately tried to reach for her, to tell her you were okay! But would she even believe you?

You weren't able to console your best friend, but you heard the familiar voice of your wife coming from behind.

"It's okay, Natasha," she said to her. "We'll be okay."

Then, she walked closer. Unlike Natasha, Wanda didn't sound like she had just been crying.

She wrapped her arms around your best friend, pulling her in from behind. She whispered something in her ear that you couldn't hear.

After that, Natasha stopped crying. She leaned down toward you, wrapping her arms around your limp form.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Your wife rolled her eyes.

"We can't have time for sentiments, the police will be here soon,"

"Yes yes, you're right," she agreed.

She then pulled out the pill bottle- the very same pill bottle you use every morning to take your prescription, and set it beside you. This time however, it was empty.

"It'll look like it was her choice," she said.

With a sly smirk, she rubbed her thumb across the back of your palm.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this, my sweet Y/N," she spoke so softly. "But, you are a means to an end. An end I most certainly will achieve."

-

When you opened your eyes again, the house was empty. You looked out the window, but it was as clear as any sunny day. There wasn't even any snow on the ground.

You brought your hand to your forehead, replaying the earlier events.

Only then did you notice the envelope slipped between the couch cushions.

You opened the seal, pulling out the piece of paper enclosed in it.

Don't let them see you.

You were even more confused now. Who left this? And don't let who see you?

Just as you were about to look at the other piece of paper, you heard a knock at the door.

"This is the police. We have a warrant!"

You stumbled backwards.

You weren't even sure what had happened earlier, but you were even more suspicious now.

You decided to listen to the note.

So, you ran up the stairs as you tucked the envelope under your arm. You heard the front door being kicked down just as you made your way into your room.

You picked up the rug, grabbing the loose floorboards.

You then squeezed through the gap, making your way into the unofficial crawlspace you and Wanda made when you moved in.

You pulled the floorboards back to their spot after fixing the rugs. Then, you tucked your legs up to your chest as you heard the police enter your house.

You felt the footsteps right above you. Despite it being pitch black, you squeezed your eyes shut.

It felt like it had been at least 10 minutes before you could no longer hear the voices above.

You didn't want to leave quite yet, but you grabbed the flashlight you had put here all those years ago. You had never used it, so the batteries still worked.

You then got out the other piece of paper left in the envelope. As soon as you read it, your hand flew to your mouth.

Do exactly as I say, my sweet Y/N/N. Only then will you get out of this alive. I'll be in touch -N

So, your wife knocked you out and left you. As for your best friend... you couldn't tell if she was helping you or hurting you.

Either way, you'd find out.

And you'd be ready.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #black widow #dark!natasha romanoff #dark!wanda maximoff #natalia alianovna romanova

[notnctu]

backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst  wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi​​​ ; @darkneogotmyback​​​ ; @im-lame-irl​​​ ; @p-mini​​​ ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck​​​ ; @saniahmichael​​ ; @jaehy9ngs​​​ ; @danyxthirstae01​​​ ; @jaehyunoos​​​ ; @pikijaemin​​​ ; @suhweo​​​ ; @yunoyeol​​​ ; @lanadreamie​​​ ; @ta3ilmoon​​​ ; 

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):

While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.

Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.

Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.

But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.

“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.

“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.

You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.

“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.

Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”

His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.

The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.

But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.

When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”

“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.

“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.

However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.

“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”

“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.

He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.

“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”

You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”

“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.

“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.

Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.

Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.

Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?

Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.

“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.

Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”

Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.

“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”

The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.

But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.

“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”

The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.

Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.

Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.

You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.

Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.

You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.

“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating. 

“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.

His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.

You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.

“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.

“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”

You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”

Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.

One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”

Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.

The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.

He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.

While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.

“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.

“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.

“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.

“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.

“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.

The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.

But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.

No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.

This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”

“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.

“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.

“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.

“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”

“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.

“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”

It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart. 

Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.

In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.

“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.

“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.

“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.

“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.

“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.

“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.

“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”

“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”

“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.

You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.

Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well. 

However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.

“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.

“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.

And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.

“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.

“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.

His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.

Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.

“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.

The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.

He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.

The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.

“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.

Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”

“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.

“No, you called me honey.”

Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”

Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.

This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.

“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”

The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.

“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.

“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”

Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.

Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”

Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.

“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.

“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.

“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”

“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.

He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.

“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.

“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.

“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.

It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.

“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”

“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.

“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.

Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.

Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.

But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.

“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.

“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.

“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.

“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.

“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.

Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.

Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”

“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.

“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.

“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.

Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.

“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”

During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.

“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.

Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”

Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”

You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.

It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.

“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.

“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.

But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.

Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.

The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.

Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”

He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.

But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.

You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.

Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.

His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”

“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.

Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”

You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.

“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”

He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.

“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”

“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.

His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.

“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.

“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”

Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.

Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”

All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”

“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.

“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.

“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.

“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.

“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.

He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.

He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.

You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.

He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.

“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.  

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.

“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.

Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.

It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you. 

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct dream series #ridinclub

[strangelysamantha]

 crumbled cookies ☆

jj maybank x plus!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: abuse/hitting, hate speech, fat shaming, bullying, insecurities, swearing, fighting, jj’s dad, luke (yikes!) mad jj, mention of pills. 

words: 3,365.

summary: you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

request? nope, but requests are open :)

a/n: i randomly thought about this, i obviously don’t believe that us plus size baddies should ever be insecure, but i thought it would be a nice little angst imagine with fluff at the end! if you could, please comment and like if you enjoyed it, thank you! after i write a few requests i will proofread my stories :)

my masterlist

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jj hadn’t answered any of your texts, usually this would worry you, but you understood that sometimes he just needed some space to be alone. you surprisingly were used to this because he always disappeared, and if he genuinely needed you, he knew where to find you. it also wasn’t bothering you because he had only been MIA for a few hours.

you, assuming that jj was just overwhelmed, decided to stay home and bake homemade cookies. jj always complimented your cookies, he loved taste testing them, and more importantly, he loved how you put so much effort into making them perfect, even if you were only making the cookies for him. jj wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely didn’t see you as just a friend. he didn’t know how he viewed you. he was too confused for his own good with his emotions. all he did know was that he depended on you, and that he never wanted to lose you. it would ruin him,  especially if he had done something to intentionally lose and hurt you.

you preheated the oven, excited to use a new cookie flavor for jj. you danced lightly to the music playing in the background of your kitchen, softly humming along as you gathered the dry ingredients, mixing them together. it was a fun little game you guys played, where he’d try and guess what extra ingredients you added that affected the cookie's flavor. he almost always got it wrong, but he was so cute sitting there always trying to guess it right, when he didn’t even know that much about cooking anyway.

unbeknownst to you, you were completely unaware of his feelings, despite the same feelings bubbling in your heart too. jj was your best buddy, and obviously you guys had flirtatious banter but it was nothing too serious. it didn’t help that every girl jj had a one night stand with, was the complete opposite of you. how could he like you, when every girl he fucks was not only skinny, but also rich, and mysterious?

pope wasn’t on your side either. he would always express how nauseated he felt when jj would jokingly flirt with you, and openly play with your feelings. he was quite vocal in scolding you when you would tell him that jj blew you off, or jj had pissed you off. deep down you did agree with pope, he wasn’t wrong.

a beep was heard from the oven as it was fully preheated. you had fully completed the cookie dough, now adding the most important ingredients. you decided to be nicer, and chose an easier flavor for jj to guess. you did this just in case something was seriously wrong he could at least be lifted up for guessing it right. m&ms and hershey’s kisses would be mixed together, creating a chocolate m&m hershey cookie, with added caramel on top. you quickly evenly separate the dough, before placing it in the oven waiting for it to rise.

the timer in the kitchen went off as you pulled the cookies out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself. you stick a knife into the cookie to ensure it was fully cooked before smiling contently to yourself. you let them cool off as you got dressed and prepared to go to jjs house.

you added caramel before sliding four cookies into a ziplock baggie. the cute baggy had a drawn on heart and a nice message for him. you didn’t expect to stay long, and you honestly didn’t even know if he would be home.

when you arrived to jjs house it looked vacant and abandoned. the nerves finally catching up to you as you realize he hasn’t talked to you all day. you knock on the front door, waiting for a response but you are left standing there waiting. you frown before hesitatingly walking down the steps. you look up when you hear a car approach, and a glimmer of hope flashes your mind as you thought it was jj, but instead it was his dad.

your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what to do. you waited to see if luke would talk but he just looked at you confused, and obviously annoyed. you shook your head quickly, “i’m so sorry, i was just going to drop these off for jj, but he’s not here so i’ll be on my way.” you smile softly, and start to walk away but his strong arms grab yours. you’re startled since his reaching for your elbow was quite unexpected.

“well you are already here. might as well get it over with.” his voice was unrecognizable as his emotions weren’t clear. you nod shyly. “no really i don’t want to inconvenience you, i can come at another time.” he shakes his head before walking to his door, opening it as the door loosely opens entirely, hitting against the wall to its side. you walk behind him being extra cautious in case he tries to grab you again.

you walk straight to the kitchen to set the bag of cookies on the counter, which was no use since right when you placed the bag, luke had scooped it into his hand reading the note. “oh, so you are the one dating my son?” your face twists in confusion. “no, no. jj and i are just friends.” you laugh awkwardly, swaying from feet to feet. the floors creak beneath you causing you to stop shaking back and forth. “okay good.” his eyes look up and down your figure as his mouth forms into a line. “i wouldn’t want him dating someone like… you.” his words hurt, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him.

you feel uncomfortable under his intense stare so you hurried to put an end to the conversation. “uhm. okay, welll thank you for letting me drop them off, i appreciate it mr. maybank.” you nod softly before he states, “no.” you turn over to him, “no?” you repeat as more of a question. your patience wears thin as you notice the cookies are still in his hand, and he is carefully undoing the ziplock that concealed the cookies.

he pulled a cookie out, before admiring it closely. “chocolate chip m&m caramel cookie. very yummy, very good choice.” you avoid eye contact, trying to focus on anything else displayed in the room. “and it’s still warm.” he stares at you as he takes a bite of the cookie, its crumbs slowly falling from where he sunk his teeth in. “it’s quite good.” you smile softly, “thank you… but-.” he cuts you off completely. “of course you, of all people, would be bringing him cookies. i’m not surprised, i can see you are trying to fatten my son.” his words stung you because this wasn’t what you were expecting. his father seemed intoxicated, and before you could leave it seemed like he still had stuff to say to you.

“yes the cookies are good, but they don’t excuse you for lying to my face. you are just like my ex wife… lying, scheming, going behind my back, but still creating delicious snacks.” you stumble back a little, as shock sets over you. “how did i lie?” you ask, quite confused as you hadn’t even talked to him that much. “i know you’re dating jj! i see his hickies i see that when he leaves this house it’s always to meet with your fat ass.” his words hold no meaning, he was just a lousy drunk taking his anger out on the closest thing to him. you stayed silent, when he suddenly shook his head before grabbing the rest of the cookies and throwing them on the floor, jumping on the bag, completely squishing them.

the once yummy cookies, now downgraded into a small pitiful pile that was brutally smeared against the kitchen's tile. your heart speeds up as his eyes are focused on yours, as if trying to read your emotions. “i’m sorry, but i’m not sure what i did to deserve you ruining my cookies?” your tone comes out sassier than intended which definitely didn’t help your case.

“pick it up.” he threw paper towels towards you, as he waited patiently for you to clean up his mess. you silently obeyed scooping your mutated bakery treat up. you got most of it cleaned, but you ran out of napkins. you bite your lip trying to think of a quick solution to finish picking it up so you could possibly leave, but it’s too late because he’s already grabbing your arm forcing you up. tears stream down your face, while you contemplate your choices.

before you could even register what had just happened, his hand had collided with your cheek, as he screams hurtful comments. “you are good for nothing. i honestly hope that jj didn’t choose you, because if he did, that would make him an embarrassment to this family.” he pushes you to the floor, and you quickly try to stand up so you can leave. you hurry to the door, but he catches you before you could get in your car and drive away. 

“you can't tell anyone about this. i swear if you tell anyone...” his tone is laced with venom and your face scrunches up in confusion. “dont act stupid! god this is why people treat you the way they do.” you look at him one last time before he sends a fast fist to your face, that hits the side of your nose, and your eye. your face begins to pulse as the blood rushes to the quick forming bruise. you couldn't think straight as everything had happened so fast. all you wanted to do was drop off cookies, but somehow you were now being punished just because you resembled this man's wife. your breath is shaky as your tears are starting to slow down, but they are still evident on your cheeks. 

jj’s dad stumbled backwards as if he had finally realized what he had done, before he eventually collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. as he landed on the couch, multiple loose pills fell from his pockets ensuring you that he wasn't mentally in the right place, and he was very obviously intoxicated.

you avoided jj at all costs, which was actually easy since he hadn't even contacted you. you were dreading his routine appearance that was bound to happen soon. you knew it was inevitable, he hasn't missed a nightly check in once, and you had been doing it for months. when you first met the pogues you were slightly scared since you were new in town and you didn't have any friends. so, jj took you under his wing. he quickly became protective over you, which is why he created this elaborate plan to sneak into your bedroom before bed every night. whether it was to just chat, talk about your day, or even just cuddle. you could always expect him at your window at around the same time every night.

usually you would confide in jj, ask for his advice. granted his advice isn't the greatest but it does help that he listens to your problems. not tonight. that wasn't the case. if anything, you wholeheartedly hoped that he would forget, or he would be too busy. he hadn't seen you since before your whole encounter with his father. you wondered if his father had told jj about what he did, and if he did, how did jj react?

you glance at the clock noticing that in the next ten minutes jj would be climbing his way into your window. your body was shaking with nerves as you glanced in the mirror. your black eye was a dead give away that something had happened. could you even tell him the truth? what if you lied, and then he called you out on it saying he already knew about it because his father told him. you contemplated every outcome of the future event that you weren't even ready when he slightly tapped your window. you quickly pulled on sunglasses that easily blocked your eye.

you smile widely, sliding your window up as he gracefully lands on your floor without making a noise, a talent he had perfected. “hey princess!” he has a huge grin on his face, his goofy smile is reason enough as to why you can't break the news to him about what his father did. “hi!” jj pulls you into a hug and you gladly take it. you wrap your arms tightly around his abdomen, as his arms are rubbing your hips. the hug ends and he slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your hips before he grabs your hand to move to the bed. “do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” jj asked. you waited, contemplating your choices. “either way is fine, you can choose.” you smile as he immediately gets into the little spoon position.

“hey i forgot to ask you why you are wearing those stupid glasses inside.” he laughs lightly as he reaches for them and you completely jump off the bed, scared he actually grabbed them in time. luckily, you were fast enough and the glasses were still settled on your face. “i have a horrible headache, that's all.” you nodded as his face slowly fell, he stood up, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. he glanced up at you. “we can turn the lights off so it isn't as bright in your room.” you shook your head at his compromise. “princess, i need to see your pretty face before i can declare that you are okay.” you hesitated, trying to piece together a quick story that you could tell him to explain how you wounded up with a gruesome bruise. he wasn't going to leave unless he knew you were okay.

he watched you intently, trying to see what you were hiding. “before i show you please promise me you won't freak out.” you reach for his hands and he grabs them in return, slowly nodding. “no, that's not going to count. please tell me that you won't be angry at me.” his heart swiveled up inside his chest as he heard that you thought he would be mad at you. “i promise that whatever you are about to tell me won't make me upset, and that i could never stay mad at you.” you nodded to his words. “okay so you know what you just said?” he tilted his head confused, “yeah?” you breathe in, trying to calm your nerves. “remember that.”

you hesitantly reach your arm up to expose your once hidden eyes. at first it doesn't register so he stares at you blankly. but the moment he saw it, he was already standing up, and freaking out. “hey you said you wouldn't be mad!” he ran fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes wide. “what the fuck…? i said i wouldn't be mad if YOU did something, i never said anything about not getting mad when it involves someone else!” he looks back at you and immediately investigates your eye. his jaw clenched as he looked above you, his hand gripping your chin. “who the fuck did this to you?” you stayed quiet, until he looked down at you waiting for an answer. 

silence fills the room leaving it eerily silent. “i can't tell you jj,” he laughs, shaking his head, “that's a funny joke, now tell me what happened and who the fuck hit you?” you looked away. “jj there's nothing you can do.” he followed along with your shenanigans. “and why is that?” you couldn't look at him so you looked at the floor. your silence was only making him more worried. “who was it actually? who are you protecting!?” he was getting frustrated. “fine. i'll tell you, only because i know you'll find out sooner or later.” he pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding your thigh, while the other grabbed your curvy hip. you took a deep breath before continuing. “okay. earlier today i baked you cookies and i stopped by your house so i could drop them off. but your dad was there, and i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. it was my fault. okay?” 

he shook his head, his grip on your thigh tightening. “you're telling me that my father gave you a black eye?” his tone was shockingly low as he absorbed every word you said. “yes. and he stomped on the cookies i made you.” his chest started heaving. “i fucking hate him! everything in my life he has to ruin. you, you mean so fucking much to me, and he’s over here throwing punches at you!” you stayed quiet. “jj?” he looked down at you, trying not to get too worked up because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, “yes princess?” you hesitated with what you were going to say. you leaned your head to rest onto his shoulder.

“i- okay, i really appreciate you, but i can't have you getting hurt because of me. you're not my boyfriend, and you don't have to protect me anymore. i know you feel obligated with that pact we made when i first moved here, but you don't have to inconvenience yourself by coming over here every night, or by fighting people who harass me, or anything. jj, i feel so bad that you are roped into this position because i never intended for this to happen.” he stays silent, “no way am i leaving you. princess, please throw that thought away right now. i’m here for you always. and i am going to continue to protect you because even if i'm not your boyfriend, that doesn't mean i don't want you safe.”

you are so stunned by his response that your breath gets caught in your throat. “what do you mean?” he smiles looking down, his hands finding themselves comfortable around your hips. “what i'm saying is, that i do want to be your boyfriend. i want people to know how much you mean to me, and i want the whole world to be jealous that i have you, and they can't have you. i want to be the one who protects you. so, if you'd want me too, i'd love to be your boyfriend, if not that is completely okay.” you stared at him, “jj, you'll never know how long i've wanted to do this.” he looks at you confused before your lips connect to his. you run your hand through his hair, while the other hand is sitting on his jaw. his hands hungrily grasp your hips as he pulls you closer to enhance the kiss. you both pull away, smiling.

you asked jj to spend the night with you. he agreed, which resulted in him laying on his back as your head lay still on his chest. one of his hands was always touching you, so he could ensure you weren't going to go anywhere. as you slowly fell asleep beside him, he started to think about what his father had done. with anger clouding his better judgement, he stealthily slipped out your grasp, and climbed out your window, set to fulfil the goal in his head.

eek i hope this was good <333. perhaps a part two...???

#jj maybank #plus size reader #jj maybank x plus!reader #jj maybank x reader #maybank #jj #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader angst #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks fanfic #fiction #writing #jj maybank plus size reader #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

[hisoknen]

kinktober day 1: somnophilia warnings: noncon, somnophilia, drugging, stalking, unprotected sex, yandereish? wc: 2.1k

a/n: thank you @10millionyearsdungeon​ for helping push for the true creepy potential dabi has to offer and staying up to talk with me most days,, this is a part 1! first day of kinktober! i’ve been waiting to post this one and while my schedule will be wonky, i am so excited to write and to read things people are writing and meet new friends! if you’d like to add me to your kt taglist please feel free to!

“Really?” Dabi chuckled under his breath, swinging the window open. A long back and forth with Shigaraki left him irritated and wandering the streets late at night. He wasn’t quite ready to head back. If only he could find a place to crash.

That’s when he saw you—walking all alone down an empty street. Didn’t you know that there were villains out there? Depraved people looking for lost souls? You walked without a care in the world, holding your head up confidently as though nothing could ever hurt you. 

He wanted to greet you, introduce himself maybe. But you looked too delicious to scare away. The moment you saw his scarred form, he knew you’d run away like the rest of them. He just had to be patient and treasure you.

He didn’t think you would be stupid enough to leave the house unlocked, though. Some people had too much faith in humanity, too naive for their own good. Never thinking that strange men would creep in at the dead of night to play.

Stumbling inside, he checked out the surroundings. The space was relatively empty, smelling of lavender and sage. Walking to the kitchen, he swung open the fridge, grabbing a beer, and flicking off the cap, taking a few swings.

Placing the bottle on the counter, he began wandering down the hall, looking for where the pretty little thing slept. From the looks of the house, you lived alone. There was just enough of everything for one person. Good thing too, he didn’t have the energy to entertain a Prince Charming who thought they could save the thing.

There was a small light at the end of the hall, quietly approaching he listened at the door before entering. You were facing him, body tangled within the blankets. Soft breasts, taut against the covers, begging to be sucked and groped. He could make out the subtle shape of your hips, knowing then that they were made perfect for his fingers to dig into. 

Walking over to the bed, he wondered what you thought you were doing? Sleeping naked with your house open to anyone curious enough to come in, eager little whore. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his heart picked up for a moment when your body turned, pulling the covers even further down your body.

You had to know what you were doing—the dimple in the small of your back accentuating the shape of your ass. Your lower lips, glistening with arousal. Did you get off on the thought of someone sneaking in? Or were you just naturally a slut whose body was ready to get fucked at all hours?

Palming his cock through his pants, Dabi thought of the noises you would make when he pumped you full of cum. Wondering if you woke up, you’d pretend that you weren’t begging for this all along. How warm and tight your little cunt would be, tugging him in while he rutted his hips into you. He’d have to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you up. 

The thought of you clinging to his body in your most vulnerable state. Unaware of what was happening to you and only responding to your innate desire for pleasure, sent a wave to his growing erection. His eyes glanced around the room, finding a bottle of pills. Standing he walked over to pick it up and read the label. 

“Hmm,” he chuckled, placing it back. Dabi unzipped his pants slowly, shrugging out of his shirt and watching the rise and fall of your chest. Reaching in, he pulled out his cock, running his finger over the bead of precum that was already weeping from it. You looked delicious like that, sprawled out for him like a good girl.

You only moved slightly when the bed dipped under his weight. His fingers were running across your parted mouth, dipping in to feel the wetness of your tongue. He leaned down, landing a soft kiss against your supple lips. Pumping his cock while breathing against you, your nose twitched. He tightened his grip, stroking it, and imagining what his cock would feel like, buried inside your throat.

Too excited to wait any longer, he pushes your shoulder down back against the bed. He trails bites and kisses along your torso, drawing his fingers against them, feeling the imprints his teeth left behind. You would wake up littered with his marks, knowing that someone had staked their claim on you. He had claimed you as his.

He sucks at the insides of your thighs, your body shivering. You were so honest like this. Flicking his tongue out against your folds, he lapped up the arousal that was flooding your cunt. There was almost too much for how little he’d touched you. 

He prodded at your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub and brushing his fingers up and down the slit. You were so good for him, letting out soft moans and shakes and unknowingly telling him what felt right.

“Such a pretty little thing, so tight for me.” He pushed a thick finger past your entrance. It was almost as if your sleeping body was attempting to fight him off with how tight you were. A loud moan escaped your lips, his head craning up to make sure you were still out. Curving his finger up, he began to stroke your walls, easing them along your gooey insides. The muscle was fluttering and contracting around him in gentle pulses. He shoved another finger in, groaning at the way you released to fit him.

The more he worked at it, dragging his fingers across the slick tissue, rubbing in circular motions, the more you trembled below him. Your tiny whimpers only spurred him on. His fingers wouldn’t be enough to make you feel good, though. He needed you to remember him when you woke up.

Pushing himself up, he tugged your hips closer to him. Dragging his tip up and down your slit, paying special attention to rubbing at your puffy clit. Your head shook for a moment. It was like you were telling him to go faster. By all means, who would he be to deny you that?

“Such a good little slut, getting my cock nice and wet.” He purred, sinking his cock in just enough so that you were clenching around the tip. He loved a thing that struggled against him just as much as the next guy. But having you so helpless underneath him, unable to flail against him, was something different that he never thought he’d enjoy this much.

You’d look pretty with tear-stained cheeks, begging him to stop while he pumped into your eager little hole. But that could wait for another time.

He pushed past your quivering walls, a soft groan rippling past your lips. He dragged your hips against him, making your body fuck itself onto his cock. Moving them in a circular motion with each pull-out, thrusting in entirely on the off beats. Your skin is so soft that his nails gradually sink in. 

He shoved your left leg across your body. Your thighs were sticking together tightly with sweat. The new position causes your pussy to tighten around him even more. His hands, pushing down against your thigh, hips colliding with your ass each thrust.

You were perfect, just like a rag doll. Limp body bending and folding whichever way he desired. Your skin, soft and supple to the touch. It tasted so sweet against his tongue. No matter how much he groped you or pumped his cock in and out of you, nothing seemed to wake you. 

In your purest form, unable to fight him off, or pretend that you didn’t feel what he was doing to your body. Just reacting and pulling him in. He caressed your face tenderly. If he was deluded enough, he might even think this was love at first sight. You were perfect for each other after all, bodies made for one another.

And your cunt was oh so tight. The gooey insides bring Dabi in further, hungrily swallowing him despite your state. Really it was only fair that you help him. You were such a pretty girl, giving him your cunt to keep him warm for the night. 

He continued to hump your sleeping body, fondling fistfuls of your naked flesh and memorizing the feeling of the skin molding into his palms like clay. His sweat falling onto your skin with each jerk. He didn’t have to be gentle in fear of you waking up. Nothing could hold back his vicious assault.

He grabs your legs, hoisting them up over his shoulders. Your ass lifted off of the bed, as he pushed your thighs into your chest, the slapping of his balls against your skin rang across the room. He pinched at your nipple, a gurgling gasp fleeing your throat. 

He drove your thighs flush against your chest, desperately chasing his orgasm. Reaching his hand down to rub and collect your pooling arousal, covering his fingers and sweeping them across your clit. He wanted to feel your cunt squeeze onto him while he came.

“Fuck yes, little thing,” you tightened up around him, body shaking before going still. Small mumbles and moans from you and his groans flooding around the room. Dabi works you through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

His head feels light as he empties himself into you, hips never ceasing to pound against you. He wanted to know what you would sound like crying out, mewling in pleasure, but he could wait until next time.

“Such a good girl,” he grunted, continuing to force his load into your womb. He didn’t let up his assault until the sun was peeking through the window, forcing him to head out. Your cunt was perfectly molded to take his cock whenever he wanted. 

Scribbling down a note for you to wake up to, he zips up his pants, sticking two fingers into your cunt to push in the cum that was beginning to run out. Maybe next time he could fuck your mouth and finish in your throat.

—

You woke to the sound of your alarm blaring, a cold breeze hitting your bare skin. Cracking your eyes open, you stretched your body, reaching to grab it. Wincing you hold the phone in your hands, your stomach felt full and tender as though you'd been hit in the gut. Maybe you walked into the corner of the counter while you were asleep. 

Ever since you were prescribed Ambien for insomnia, strange things seemed to happen at night. Once you woke up on your front lawn, the neighbor's dog licking your face. Another morning you woke up to the smell of something burning, you'd made bread while in your hazed state. 

You brushed off the memories for a moment before feeling a thick, sticky fluid seeping out of you and coating your inner thighs. Your hands dart between your legs, flinching when you make contact with the tender flesh, and runny fluid, your blood ice cold. 

Bringing your fingers to eye level, a wave of nausea erupts heavily in your stomach, bile rising in your throat. You had a wet dream, that was it. That had to be it. A bead of sweat slid down the back of your neck, chills falling in its wake.

To acknowledge what else it could have been would mean confronting yourself with the fact that somebody broke into your house to violate you. Somebody found their way in and used your body to relieve themselves and left you aching and full of cum.

Dabi gazed in from outside the window. Your body was trembling, fingers prodding at your bruised and cum covered flesh. Discovering new marks with each twist. The winces sent heat to his cock, his pants stiffening. 

You looked so pretty like that. Scared eyes frantically scanning every inch of the room, desperately trying to remember even a sliver of what happened to you. 

Next time he’d have to be more careful. There was no way you’d leave the house open for him again. But the fear and second-guessing would leave you tasting sweet for his return.

You spot something on the counter beside you, scrambling to get up and grab it. It was a sticky note with scratchy handwriting. Dabi smiled to himself as you picked it up, hands shaking. You felt sickness overtake you, vision blinking, and unclear, your skin prickly to the touch. 

There was a clatter outside of your window, and you spun your head around, not seeing anything. Your legs lost their strength beneath you, crumpling to the ground. Someone was here. There was no way to ignore that now. 

“Until next time pretty thing.”

—

kinktober masterlist​

#dabi x reader smut #dabi smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut #tw somno #tw drugging #tw noncon #tw yandere #tw stalking

[jikookiekosmos]

Pay Attention || pjm

➥Pairing: dom!jimin/sub!reader, ceo!jimin, boss!jimin/employee!reader

➥Summary: You’d mentioned it in passing once before, your fantasy about blowing your boss - and now boyfriend - under his desk during one of his important CEO business meetings. So what happens when you want to turn that fantasy into a reality, and he wants it just as much?

➥Genre: established relationship, smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~12.8k

➥Content Warnings: exhibitionist kink (sorta) come through, they fuck around during a zoom call & a phone call, oral (m. receiving), cursing, sub!reader, dom!jimin, dirty talk, mouth fucking, praise, masturbation (f.), slight degradation (’slut’ is used a few times), slight crying, orgasm denial, reader is a brat, jimin cums on the reader’s face, making out, marking/biting, hair pulling, safe word (jimin has a consent kink, we love to see it), fingering (jimin keeps his rings on oof), jimin has a sir kink, jimin calls the reader princess a lot, reader is gagged with a tie, partially clothed sex, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), rough sex, fucking against a window, possessive!jimin, jimin is soft for the reader, cute banter and fluff, poor jungkook really is just doing his best to be a good friend

A/N: hello! This is part of my Make Me series (basically the sequel), but it can be read as a stand-alone! The relationship and dynamic would make more sense if you read Make Me beforehand, though. 

This is another one I had a hard time finishing and kept having to redraft; as much as I love writing about them, there are some things I’m still a bit insecure about in my writing but I’ll continue to challenge myself on those things.

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​ for being the biggest encourager I could ever have (also the #1 stan for this couple), and for also being my beta reader for everything. I’m beyond grateful for you. ❤

I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it! Please let me know what you think, if you’d like~

➥Masterlist

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You stood up from your desk and stretched since your workday had just ended, preparing to gather your things so you could go home.

Well…so you could go to Jimin’s home.

The two of you had been dating for about 6 months and things were going really well. Almost too well you would say, but that was mainly because all your previous relationships before him had been with godawful people, so you didn’t know any better.

When all of this started between the two of you, you weren’t exactly sure how it would pan out, given that you worked together. And not only that, but he was your boss, which was an even more risky dynamic. But both of you kept your relationship at work strictly professional, leaving more intimate times for whenever you would stay the night with him, which had been happening more and more frequently lately…

You weren’t living together, but you might as well have been with how much of your belongings had a residence space in his home now. And, since you were over so often, the two of you would typically carpool to and from work, usually with Jimin driving.

Today, however, Jimin had told you to take your own car since he had an important video meeting after work hours were concluded. You insisted you could wait for him and do your own work while you did so, but he wasn’t having it.

“You already work hard enough as it is,” he told you earlier that morning as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I’ll just be home a little later, is all.”

Every time Jimin indicated that his home was a place the both of you shared, your heart fluttered in an embarrassing way.

You let out a small sigh as you gathered your keys and bag that were hanging up by the door leading into your office space, locking it before you turned around. Your desk setup was in the main lobby area, and Jimin’s office was tucked away inside of the larger room. You wanted to at least drop in and tell him goodbye properly before his meeting started, so you made your way over.

You knocked before peeking into the doorway. Jimin was seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair slightly, having already rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie to make himself a bit more comfortable. 

He ran his hand through his hair and you gulped at the sight. He’d recently dyed his hair again, and you didn’t know what you preferred more: the silver locks you’d grown accustomed to during your time employed here, or the beautiful blonde locks he now sported.

You’d never be able to get over how ridiculously attractive this man was, even more so since he was yours.

At the sound of your knock he looked up, a dazzling smile immediately gracing his face.

Yeah, you’d never get tired of that either.

“I’d have thought you’d be on your way home by now,” his eyes never left your figure as you walked over to casually sit in his lap. His meeting hadn’t started yet, so you figured you had a minute or so to spare.

“I can’t leave without saying goodbye, you know that.” You gently pressed your lips against his and he wasted no time circling his arms around your waist as he leaned into the kiss. You felt him sigh against you; he’d been under so much stress lately with the big case deadline coming up, and you knew moments like these helped him relax.

Jimin leaned back to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I know. And I love that about you.” His hand squeezed your hip and you wound your arms around your neck, preparing to make yourself more comfortable.

Jimin knew what you were doing and put a stop to it immediately, laughing. “Not so fast, princess. You need to go on home before I decide to cancel my meeting.”

He was joking, of course, since this was the first big meeting he had with the other head of the firm in months, so there’s no way he’d cancel unless the reason was important. You pouted regardless.

“Surely you wouldn’t do something like that for little old me, would you?” You were teasing him right back, and his low chuckle was enough to let you know he caught onto your play.

“You have no idea how much the temptation is there.” He tapped your thigh, indicating for you to get up and you did. As you hopped off his lap, he patted your ass before you could walk away, causing the heat to rise in your cheeks.

Jimin always kept his hands off of you at work, since it was a professional setting. He never went as far as maybe brushing his hand against yours when you’d hand him some files or the small show of affection that had just occurred prior. Aside from that time in his office months ago – your first time with him that also marked the beginning of your relationship – he’d never done something that risky since.

Of course, all those months ago the ‘risky behavior’ consisted of him literally fucking you so hard on his desk that a lamp ended up breaking but hey, risks are risks for a reason, right?

The memory made the blush on your face deepen. You stammered out a “Yes, sir,” before you quickly walked out and shut his door. You leaned against it once you were out of his office, heart hammering almost painfully in your chest.

You couldn’t help the dirty thoughts that were swirling around in your mind now. It wasn’t like your intimacy with Jimin was lacking or anything like that; the man knew damn well how to take care of you in bed and you had zero complaints.

But you’d by lying if you said the idea of fooling around in his office again didn’t excite you…

It dawned on you then that there was something else you’d mentioned to him that you wanted to try. Of course, you’d said it in the heat of the moment, judgment clouded by passion, but it was still something you’d fantasized about nonetheless.

You told him that night all those months ago, when you were on your knees for him for the first time, that you’d imagined sucking him off during one of his important business meanings. At the time, Jimin seemed to love the idea as much as you did, but you weren’t sure if that was because of the pleasure you were providing him with, or if he wanted to as well.

While you were contemplating with devilish intent, you heard the faint sound of his voice coming from the other side of the door. It sounded like his meeting had finally started.

A sly grin spread across your face and before you could properly think about it, you were turning the handle and walking back into his office.

Clearly Jimin had not been expecting you, if his surprised expression was anything to go by. You started walking towards his desk and saw his eyes flitter toward the laptop screen in front of him.

“Just a second, Jeon. I’ll be right back.”

You heard some form of agreement from the man on the other side of the screen, and Jimin muted the mic.

“Baby? Are you ok? Is something wrong?” You also assumed he turned off the camera, considering he was almost standing up from his chair now.

Your face softened at his concern. You almost felt bad about what you were about to do.

But not bad enough to not follow through with it.

You continued your stroll over to stand in front of his desk before moving to stand beside him, gently pushing him back down so he was seated in the chair once more.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You figured it’d be best to just come out and say it before you made him worry more, especially since that wasn’t your intention.

You started sinking lower until you were on your knees beside his chair. His confused look didn’t falter, but his eyes did widen.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Do you remember when I told you there was something I wanted to do during one of your important meetings?”

You were speaking quietly, even though you know he muted his mic already. It was almost as if you could see the gears turning in his head as he searched for an answer.

And when it clicked, it clicked.

“Fuck,” the word escaped his lips just barely above a whisper. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded, hoping he could see just how sure you were. You wanted this, but only if he wanted it, too. If he didn’t, there was no way you’d go any further. Consent mattered above all for both of you, and the two of you always made absolutely sure before engaging in any kind of activity that you were both 100% on board.

“Only if it’s what you want, too,” you breathed out. You saw his Adam’s apple bob up then down with the gulp he took as he reached out a hand to caress your face.

He was pulling you up the next moment to steal a kiss from you, heated but short since the voice from the laptop speakers made its presence known again.

“Park? You all good, man?”

Jimin fumbled with the keyboard to turn the mic back on. “Yeah, give me just another minute, I’m finding some files.”

“Alright,” came the other man’s answer and Jimin muted the mic once more.

“Yes I want it. I want everything with you,” he placed another kiss on your lips, this one more gentle. “If we’re gonna do this though, it has to be on my terms.”

You were still, waiting for further instruction, beyond elated that he was actually agreeing to this.

Jimin’s lips curled up at your obedient posture. “Good girl. I’m going to have to keep my mic on, so you’ll need to keep those pretty noises to yourself, yeah?” He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip and you almost let out a whine.

This was going to be harder than you thought. Jimin slipping into his more dominant persona always flipped a switch in you, and right now was no exception. His dark eyes were pinning you with an intense stare, and his tone had dipped lower as he continued to tell you what to do.

“If you think you can handle that, then get on your knees for me, princess.”

You scrambled to do as you were told, finding a comfortable spot underneath his desk where you had plenty of room.

Jimin let you take the lead once you were situated, giving you complete control over the pace of your actions. Before he unmuted his mic once more, he waited for you to unzip his pants so the noise would go unnoticed by his partner on the other end of the call. You ignored the bulge that had started growing in his boxers and pulled him out with an eagerness that had him chuckling.

He was only slightly hard, having just started to get aroused by the idea of what you were about to do. You stroked him a few times to help him get all the way there, melting into his touch as one of his hands stroked your cheek and he opened his thighs wider.

You heard the click of a few keys as Jimin cleared his throat.

“Hey sorry about that, I’m back.”

Pure excitement prickled throughout your body, giving you goosebumps that traveled along your arms. You were still stroking him at a somewhat leisurely place, relishing in the way he would shift a little bit when you tightened your grip and dragged your hand along his length.

“Geez, you’re usually more prepared than this. Are you really that worried about this case?”

Hearing Jungkook’s voice on the other end brought you out of your trance momentarily before you started fixating on the precum starting to pool at the tip of your boyfriend’s cock.

You were also aware of your own wetness that would’ve been sliding down your thighs now if it weren’t for how you were seated.

“A little bit, yeah. But you and I have both been working hard so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

A few more strokes before you finally decided that Jimin was ready for you to take him in your mouth. You parted your lips and gently wrapped them around the head to start with, swirling your tongue in a delicate way that you knew would get him worked up.

His breath hitched above you and the sound, albeit quiet and small, nearly made you moan in return. You decided to instead swallow as much of him down as you could in one go, almost making his knee jerk upward.

God, what you wouldn’t give to see the look on his face right now.

Jimin’s hand that had been stroking your cheek now moved down to curve around your jaw, his fingers digging into the flesh there each time you stopped moving and swirled your tongue around him.

“Well, I guess you could say that…anyways, which files did you decide to start with?”

Jimin was obviously distracted so he didn’t quite catch Jungkook’s question at first.

“Sorry, what was that?”

You heard an annoyed grunt from the other man and it almost made you giggle.

“I said which files do you want to start with? Ya know, this isn’t like you. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Before Jimin could answer you picked up your pace, anchoring yourself by fisting the fabric of his slacks and taking him as far as you could without gagging.

Jimin suddenly grabbed your hair to pull you off of him, yanking somewhat forcefully.

You fucking loved that.

“Sorry, Kook, I uh- why don’t we look at the file for the defendant first?”

Jungkook’s silence had you wondering just what kind of look he must be giving Jimin, since you’d witnessed this kind of exchange a few times before in their in-person meetings where you had to take notes.

Jungkook’s prolonged silence usually meant one of a few things: he disagreed with what was just said, he was judging whoever said what they did, or he was pondering it before finally agreeing.

“Jimin…you do realize we don’t get the rest of the info to complete that file until tomorrow, right?”

Jimin softly cursed above you, and you weren’t sure if it was because of what Jungkook had just mentioned-

-or if it was because you had wrapped your lips around him again and hollowed out your cheeks while you sucked.

“Seeing you frazzled is so weird but I gotta say, it’s also very amusing.”

You could envision Jimin rolling his eyes at the comment. “Just shut up and pick a file.”

“Fine, fine,” an overly dramatic, exasperated sigh from Jungkook, “as usual I’m the one who has to do everything around here…”

The rest of Jungkook’s words were lost on you, because Jimin was repositioning himself then, probably trying to make it look like he was just getting comfortable. But now he had both of his hands under the desk.

He pulled your hair up and piled it on top of your head before delving deep into the strands and giving them a sharp tug.

Oh, if you weren’t before, you we’re definitely fucked now.

This was one of Jimin’s tendencies you had picked up on during your time together. Whenever he was ready for you to go faster, harder, he would pull your hair out of your face and keep you in place by securing it in his grasp.

What was confusing about it this time, however, was you didn’t know how you were supposed to achieve that without A) choking on his cock or B) making sounds of your own that would surely give the two of you away.

So, you stayed put with Jimin’s length still lodged inside of your mouth, throbbing every so often now. You were waiting for his next command, this time a nonverbal one considering the situation.

Jimin had trained you well.

He slid his chair back a small amount and you took that as your cue to shimmy forward, now rewarded with the sight of your boyfriend’s beautiful face from your new position under his desk. He glanced at you for a second, giving your hair a gentle tug, the signal for you to go slowly.

Always so eager to please, you did as he wanted.

Jimin’s eyes danced back up to the screen, but you could just barely see him tonguing his cheek.

One of Jimin’s hands had returned to his desktop as he thumbed through a collection of papers, skimming them briefly. “It doesn’t look like these have been properly dictated yet.”

“Doesn’t Y/N usually take care of that stuff for you?”

At the mention of your name, you stiffened. You knew Jimin could tell, too, since his grip in your hair loosened and he was instead patting your head reassuringly.

“She does, but it’s been a long and stressful week for her, too. I don’t want to overburden her any more than necessary.”

You would have cooed at his soft words if you didn’t have the man’s dick invading every inch of your mouth.

“Hmmm I don’t know about all that. The few times I’ve seen her this week when she’s making her runs, she seems to have a lot of pep in her step. Super cheerful, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’d seen her like that.”

You decided it was safe to continue moving again so you did, taking your time to slowly drag your tongue along Jimin’s length while it continued to throb inside of your mouth. He was still running his hands through your hair gently, and the action aroused you almost as much as when he pulled on it.

“Well, wouldn’t you say it’s good then if she’s happy around the office? You know I always want the best for my employees.”

Jimin chanced looking down at you, having to stifle a groan as a fake cough because the view of you was too much for him. He had wanted to look at you to make sure you didn’t misconstrue his words, make sure you knew that he viewed you as so much more than just an employee.

But he had to be careful, and you knew that. While romance at your workplace wasn’t necessarily forbidden, it wasn’t looked at in a favorable light, either. Hence why Jimin still hadn’t told anyone – not even his best friend and co-owner of the firm – about your relationship.

His words hadn’t upset you in the slightest, and you continued your ministrations that had his hand tightening once more around your strands of hair he’d haphazardly piled on top of your head.

“Yeah, that is good, I guess…I don’t know, man. I’m just saying I think something is up with her.”

You froze. Jimin’s grip tightened again, almost making you whimper.

“What do you mean,” he asked slowly. You could hear Jungkook’s chuckle from the other end.

“C’mon dude, don’t tell me you can’t see it, too? Especially with how much time you spend around her. She’s totally getting fucked.”

You choked around Jimin’s cock and another fake cough tumbled from his lips once he felt your throat constrict around him. You risked looking up at him-

-his jaw was clenched. And it didn’t look like it was in a good way.

“Jeon, I don’t think that’s appropriate-”

Jungkook scoffed. “Don’t give me that bullshit, it’s not like we haven’t talked about this before.”

That admission made you pull of off Jimin completely, and he didn’t do anything to stop you. Instead, he looked down at you for a brief second, almost apologetically. You wrapped your hand around him to keep him going, but your mind was running rampant.

“Regardless of if we’ve discussed it in the past-”

“We have. You’ve gone into great detail about it on more than one occasion.”

You had settled for stroking Jimin’s length since it was still in front of your face, heavy and hard, but at these words you stopped altogether. You could see Jimin’s fingers that had been tangled in your hair now curling into a fist underneath his desk.

“Regardless,” he said through gritted teeth, “she isn’t here right now, and we should be focusing on your briefing of this case. Right?”

Oh, he was pissed. You’d only seen Jimin angry a handful of times in the years you’d been employed by him, and you certainly hadn’t seen him this way since you started dating.

You were glad it wasn’t leveled at you, but something about it was…attractive?

Yeah, maybe you should chalk that up to the fact that you still had wetness running down your thighs and his hard dick inches away from your face.

You could almost imagine Jungkook shrugging on the other end, since it was a habit he had.

“Yeah, ok, let’s get back to business.”

Jimin let out a grateful sigh and his hand relaxed from its fist position.

“However, I am curious who it could be, because there’s no way she’s not getting dicked down. And I doubt it’s that asshole she was dating like I’m pretty sure they broke up if the office gossip is anything to go by-”

“Jungkook,” Jimin interrupted, his tone laced with a warning. You almost forgot about your task at hand, becoming too engrossed in their conversation. You gingerly wrapped your lips around him once more, feeling him twitch as you did.

“Wait do you think maybe it’s Jackson from security? He’s always mysterious so he’d be good at hiding shit-”

“Jungkook.” Another warning, and this time Jungkook seemed to get the hint because you could hear frantic shuffling of papers through the speakers.

“Damn, ok, chill. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So anyways, here’s what I know so far for my end of the case…”

Jungkook’s words drifted off as background noise, and all of your focus was once again on sucking your boyfriend’s dick like your life depended on it.

Jimin had gone eerily still, however, and you didn’t know if it was because he was listening intently to Jungkook or if it was something else.

You moved to see if you could ask him what was wrong but he held you down with one of his hands, pushing you further onto his cock and a small squeak escaped from you at the sudden force. With pleading eyes you looked up at him, noticing his other hand was now covering his mouth causally, a habit he had when listening to someone.

A few clicks from the keyboard and then he was speaking again.

“I’ve muted the mic.”

Your core was aching now at his insinuation.

He hadn’t given you permission to speak though, so you didn’t attempt to yet.

“Moan for me. Let me hear you.”

The command alone had you doing as your were told, the action sending vibrations through his length that made his thighs shake.

Jimin groaned. “Fuck, that’s it, moan around my cock for me. Love it when you’re like this.”

He was speaking softly, and you figured it was because he didn’t want to key Jungkook in on the fact that his mouth was moving behind his hand.

And for some reason, hearing him like that turned you on even more in the moment than if he had been loud.

A harsh jerk of your hair had you hissing around him.

“Did I tell you to stop, princess?”

Oh. There it was. There was the edge in his tone that you were used to. The dark sound as his voice dipped lower, and it made you rub your thighs together.

You doubled your efforts now, no longer afraid of the sounds you were making. The room was starting to fill with the slurping, squelching noises coming from you, and you could also just barely make out Jimin’s soft moans and grunts.

Jungkook’s voice sounded far away, and you could not give any less of a fuck about what he was saying right now.

Your hand was stroking whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth, and you alternated between going slow while you hollowed out your cheeks to speeding up with your tongue laving along the underside of his cock. He loved both of these movements, and sometimes whenever you would mix the two, it would make him lose his mind.

He, of course, couldn’t do that right now, but damn if you weren’t going to try to make him squirm.

You looked up at him and saw him nodding, you presumed at something Jungkook said, and you were thankful for the first time that Jungkook could be long-winded when giving presentations about something.

Without a warning, Jimin’s hand suddenly pushed you down further, making you choke around him, your throat constricting as tears began pooling in the corner of your eyes. A low, drawn out groan sounded from him, and you could feel yourself throbbing with want.

“God, I love feeling you choke around me. Always so eager to wrap that perfect mouth around me and let me fuck it as I please.”

You whined at his words, again rubbing your thighs together but harder this time as you were searching for some much-needed friction.

“Oh?” Jimin must have caught onto what you were doing, because he removed his hand for a split second to look down at your properly. You saw his brows start to furrow before his hand resumed its prior position, a growl ripping itself from his throat.

“Shit, princess, you look so divine like this. Every time I stuff you full of my cock, you always beg for more, such a good girl for me.”

At his praise you couldn’t help it anymore; you let go of his pants with one of your hands and it traveled down to where you could rub it over your aching clit. Just rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves through your panties was enough to have you crying out around him.

Jimin’s breathing was becoming more stuttered as his hips started to move, just enough for him to fuck your mouth without it being too obvious.

“My greedy girl, always so perfect for me, so obedient, fuck. My obedient little slut.”

You moaned and started rubbing your clit faster, your grip on his clothes tightening at his words.

“Yeah, you like me calling you my little slut, huh? Bet you’re so wet for me, ready for me to fuck you senseless and ruin that sweet cunt of yours.”

You nodded as best you could with his dick continuously ramming into your mouth. Tears were streaming down your face now, and the intense pleasure you were providing yourself with alongside Jimin’s words and actions made you feel like you were at the brink, ready to fall into euphoria-

“Gonna cum in your mouth soon if you keep this up,” he tapered off to swallow back a moan, shifting his hand to make his pose look more casual.

You whimpered at his words, but you were surprised because usually Jimin could hold off way longer. But now you wondered if maybe the idea of you both doing this while someone was watching was as enticing to him as it was to you.

You knew he was telling the truth though, because all the signs were there. He kept twitching inside of your mouth and his thighs were starting to tremble as his hips started to falter in their movement. And somehow, throughout all of this, he had managed to keep his upper half from betraying anything about what was transpiring.

You truly had never met another man like Park Jimin before.

You dipped your hand into your panties now and almost screamed, mere brushes against your clit sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Your moans were becoming more high-pitched and frequent, signs of your own undoing approaching fast.

Jimin mistook your actions for excitement at his words (which wasn’t far off, honestly).

“You want me to cum in your mouth, princess? Fuck that sweet mouth of yours until I’m filling you up and you have no choice but to swallow it all down? Hm?”

You choked around him again, pulling a heavenly sounding groan from him.

“Baby, fuck, or do you want me to cum all over your face? Blow my load right here and now while Jungkook is watching?”

The first verbal mention of someone else watching the two of you had you gushing and you could feel yourself starting to tremble as your orgasm started creeping up on you faster than before. You moaned loudly around him, signifying that yes you wanted that-

And that was when everything stopped.

Jimin pulled you off of him and straightened back up in his chair, careful to make sure that he didn’t hurt you or hit your face in any way. Your breathing was labored, and he stuck two fingers into your mouth to help you be quiet while he unmuted himself.

Your fingers were still moving against your clit but slower now, and the aching throb was ever-present as you registered another voice once again.

“…so yeah, that’s all I have. It’s getting kinda late though, sorry I rambled again…we may have to go over your stuff another day next week-”

“Sounds good,” Jimin said with no hesitation.

Jungkook laughed. “What, so eager to get rid of me? Maybe you need to be the one getting fucked – you’re way too wound up these days.”

You almost snickered at the comment, but that desire was quickly replaced with a dying moan in your throat as you could feel your orgasm building up again. Your fingers were rubbing you in just the right way, and if you didn’t stop now, you weren’t sure you’d be able to-

Jimin didn’t laugh or chuckle at all. He just stared at the screen blankly, not giving anything away in the slightest. “Hm, ok, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s the spirit! Who knows, maybe you should call up Y/N, I’m sure she’d love to help out-”

“Goodbye, Jeon,” Jimin said curtly as he unceremoniously shut his laptop after ending the call. There was silence in the office now, aside from one small sound…

You didn’t let up in your ministrations, though, because you were so, so close to release-

Jimin looked down at you suddenly, pressing on your tongue and making you gag.

“Baby,” he said softly, although the pressure he was applying to your tongue was the exact opposite. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer him aside from a small whimper as you sucked on his fingers, attempting to divert his attention.

That didn’t work and you knew it wouldn’t.

Jimin slid his chair back and pulled you out from under the desk by your wrist that he could reach, noticing instantly where your other hand was and what you were currently doing.

You heard him hum before he shook his head, eyes boring into yours. He tsk, tsk, tsk-ed before pulling you both to a standing position.

“Did I give you permission to do that, princess?”

Before you could even answer, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth so he could push your other hand away, making you cry out involuntarily at your – again – interrupted orgasm. You could feel it ebbing away and it had you begging instantly.

“Please, Jimin, please let me cum, I’ve been good, please-”

Jimin nearly cooed at you, cradling your face in his hands as he brushed away some of the drying tear stains on your cheeks. “Baby, you know it doesn’t work like that.”

You let out another sob. “Jimin, please-”

The hard stare he fixed you with had your brain kicking into gear.

“Sir, please-”

He pulled you into a harsh kiss, swallowing every single whimper that fell from your lips. When you two parted, the smirk on his face had you clenching around nothing.

“Since you beg so prettily for me, I think I can give you what you want.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you-”

“But first,” Jimin continued as he gently lowered you back into your position on your knees, “I want to paint those pretty lips of yours with my cum. Think you can handle that?”

His tone was soft, but his filthy words had you reeling at the idea.

He was stroking himself leisurely while he awaited your answer, and you could tell from how hard he still was and how his eyelids kept fluttering shut that he was close.

“What’s it gonna be, princess,” Jimin asked, the faint rise and fall of his chest distracting you for a moment. “Gonna let me cum all over your face? Get myself off while you sit there and take it like a good girl?”

You nodded with renewed energy, pulling a devious smirk from the man you loved.

You crawled forward so you could be closer to him and rested your hands on your knees. Jimin was speeding up now and the quiet moans that had been filling the space between you were turning into something more.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he groaned at the sight of you, sitting still and waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Color,” he asked almost breathlessly.

“Green, please sir-”

“Open,” was his next simple command, one you obeyed immediately. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as you had done on several other occasions before.

You and Jimin didn’t partake in this particular activity often, since you both preferred him cumming in your mouth or inside of you, but there was just something about this that always aroused you beyond belief.

A deep groan rumbled within Jimin’s chest as his hand sped up, fucking his fist and making you almost wish he was fucking your mouth instead.

“Greedy little brat, trying to get off without permission.” His choked out another moan. “Sitting here so pretty on your knees for me, waiting for me to make a fucking mess all over your face. Tell me how much you want this,” he continued, tightening his fist as he continued stroking himself at a fast pace.

“I want it so bad, sir, please cum all over me.” To accentuate your words, you licked your lips while holding eye contact with him before he had no choice but to look away.

You could tell with the way Jimin’s legs were trembling that it wouldn’t be long now. He had titled his head back some against the chair and his eyes were barely open as your name fell from his lips.

“Fuck,” was the last little bit of warning you had before you felt the warm spurts of cum land on your face and tongue.

You swallowed down whatever landed in your mouth before you crawled forward and licked whatever was left on Jimin’s hand off while he was catching his breath. A lazy smile spread across his face.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” He asked when he could speak again.

“I know, but you love it when I do.”

He laughed. “That I do.” Jimin pulled you up so he could have you straddle his lap, your sensitive core brushing against his dick that was still somewhat hard.

“Fuck, you always look so pretty in white,” Jimin said in a much gentler tone than before. His comment made you giggle as he wiped off whatever cum was still on your face with some tissues he had on his desk. You were laughing once he finished, making him smile at you.

“What’s so funny, hm?”

You gave him a devious look before responding “Don’t you think this is a shitty way to bring up marriage?”

You had to hold in your laughter at his expression: he looked terrified.

So, naturally, you chose chaos and continued.

“I mean, I was also the one on my knees, so clearly you’re going about this the wrong way-”

It was then that Jimin caught onto your play, a wicked grin stretching across his face. He started tickling your sides and made you burst into laughter once more as you writhed around on his lap. When he decided you had enough torture, he pulled you forward, kissing you slowly as you relaxed on top of him. Your arms wound around his neck, trying to keep him close. He leaned away after a few moments and brushed some of your hair out of your face.

“Now, are you done being a brat for me since you got what you wanted?”

Him calling you a brat always had the same effect on you, no matter what the circumstance: it made you want to act out.

And even though what you had in mind probably wasn’t the best idea, you couldn’t stop yourself.

You pouted. “I didn’t really get what I wanted, though.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed in slight confusion. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because Jungkook wasn’t watching.”

Jimin’s hands that had been rubbing up and down your sides stopped their movements, and you felt him stiffen underneath you.

“What did you just say?”

His tone had shifted into that deeper register it always did when you acted like this. It was his way of letting you know if you didn’t stop, he wouldn’t hesitate to put you back in your place.

You lived for that shit.

“What I said, sir,” you drew out the last word in an almost mocking tone, “is that Jungkook wasn’t watching when you came on my face. So I didn’t get what I wanted in that sense.”

Jimin placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you forward, making you grind against him and pulling a small whimper from you. That same hand snaked it’s way up into your hair and pulled tight, forcing your head back and exposing your throat to him.

“Be careful, princess,” he said in that same velvety tone, words uttered against your throat as he dragged his lips along your skin.

“I don’t think you really want an audience the way you say you do,” he was kissing along your jaw now, grip still tight in your hair. “I think the idea excites you but you’re too scared to put it into practice.”

The urge to challenge him on this was outweighing your current desire to submit so you simply responded with:

“Try me.”

Jimin growled at that, hand disappearing from your hair in favor of placing both hands under your thighs. Before you could realize what he was doing, he had lifted you up along with himself and wrapped your legs around his waist.

His lips attacked yours hungrily, walking you backwards until you felt your back hit a surface. He removed your legs from his waist and let you down so your feet were touching the floor again. You still had your arms around his neck, and he reached his arms back so his hands covered your own.

“You want an audience?”

Within the next moment, Jimin had unwrapped your arms from around his neck and spun you around, placing your palms up by your head against the surface you’d been leaning against. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you.

“I’ll give you a fucking audience.”

Jimin had you pressed against his window, and the both of you were on full display for any lucky person who might be walking by and have the sudden idea to look up at the building. His pants had pooled around his ankles now, but he was otherwise fully dressed, just as you were.

You had a feeling that wouldn’t last very long, though.

“Color?” Jimin asked, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. You could feel him pressing against your ass, almost at full hardness again.

“Green,” you manage to choke out, too turned on to talk clearly. All of your focus was on the compromising position you were currently in, staring down at the people walking by on the busy sidewalks, illuminated by streetlights since the sky had started to darken.

Jimin’s hand made it’s way to the front of your dress, pulling the material up to your waist. Without another word, he slipped his hand into your panties, brushing ever so gently against your clit.

You threw your head back at the action, resting it against his shoulder as your eyes closed.

“God baby, you’re fucking soaked,” Jimin said from behind you, running his finger through your slick folds. “Didn’t know sucking my dick made you this wet.”

You whined at his words, trying to push against his hand in hopes he would go faster. He stilled your hips with his other hand, placing tender kisses on the side of your neck.

“Or was it the fact that I was on call with someone, hm? Was it because Jungkook could see me while you worked that gorgeous mouth around my cock?”

The way he kept saying Jungkook you just knew he had to be sneering, and this for some reason turned you on even more.

Jimin finally plunged a digit into your heat, thrusting it in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. He added a second one after another moment, and it was then that you realized something.

Jimin was still wearing one of his rings.

The feeling of the cool metal dragging along the inside of your walls as he pumped his fingers inside of you made you shudder at the new sensation.

“You’re so wet, princess; taking my fingers with no problem. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock later,” he huffed by your ear, “but I think I want to torture you a bit first.”

You were squirming in his hold, whining as he continued his passive pace.

“Sir, please-”

“Please what, baby? What do you want, hm?”

“Fuck me, please. I don’t care how, just please do it.”

Jimin grunted and sped up the tiniest amount, but it was enough for you. The increase in speed had you moaning as you clenched around his fingers.

“Patience is a virtue, princess. Maybe you should learn how a thing or two about that before I give you what you want,” Jimin responded to your plea.

Despite his earlier words, he added a third finger into the mix, this one also adorning a ring. The combination of all 3 fingers and the 2 rings made the girth inside of you almost too much to handle, but it still left you wanting more.

Jimin had just barely adjusted himself before you felt his fingers slipping from your cunt, with no clear intentions of returning. You started to protest but Jimin shushed you before you could.

“Relax, baby, just need to get rid of these, ok?” Jimin yanked your panties down as far as he could and helped you step out of them, kicking them off to the side. Your bottom half was completely bare now against the window, the cool surface making you shiver as it pressed against you.

Once you were both re-situated, Jimin continued right where he left off, except this time his speed was much faster than before, making your hands scrabble against the glass as you tried to find something to hold onto.

“Jimin, fuck!” You screamed out as he continued drilling into you, making you clench repeatedly around him and the metal lacing his fingers. Jimin chuckled at how quickly you were coming undone

“So eager to put this pretty pussy on display for the world to see, hm? Want everyone to see me fuck you with my fingers before I split you open on my cock?”

His words had another gush of arousal flooding through you, coating his already drenched fingers.

“Fuck yes, please, want it so bad, sir,” you were babbling now and that was one of the signs that you and Jimin both recognized as you being very close.

“Gonna cum all over my fingers?” Jimin started rubbing your clit with his thumb, making you shriek.

“Hm, but you were such a brat earlier, do you think you deserve it?”

He started to slow his pace again and you actually sobbed.

“Jimin, no, please, I’ll behave I promise, please, please-”

Jimin wrapped his unoccupied arm tightly around your midsection and fucked his fingers into you so fast it left you breathless.

“Cum for me then, do it for me right here, right now where everyone can see you.”

His permission for you to let go was the last push you needed as your orgasm finally hit you at full force, stronger than normal since you kept being edged for a while now. A string of strangled moans left your mouth before you lurched forward and gasped for air – almost hard enough to hit your head on the glass, had Jimin’s hold not been so strong.

And the more you clenched around his fingers, the more his arm constricted around you, holding you close while he whispered words of encouragement in your ear.

“Fuck baby, that’s it. Doing so well for me. Always so pretty when you cum,” he was speaking softly into your ear as you were trembling in his hold, placing a final kiss to your temple before he slowly removed his fingers from your heat.

Your eyes were still closed as you came down from your high, panting as you leaned your head back to lay against his shoulder. You only opened them when you felt one of Jimin’s fingers prod at your lip.

“Open up for me one more time, princess,” he uttered, soft and sweet. You complied immediately, and he slipped his fingers coated in your essence between your lips. You sucked them, taking your time to swirl your tongue around them before he withdrew them with a groan.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me. I’m already hard again just from watching you cum for me. You drive me crazy, baby.” His arm that had been curled around you loosened and he moved it to where his hand was holding onto your hip now. You knew he was telling the truth, too; you could feel him against your ass.

You grinded against him and relished in his reaction as he grunted and tightened his hand around your waist.

“Maybe you should put it to use then and fuck me like I begged you to.”

Despite having an almost numbingly good orgasm just a few minutes prior, you still felt the need to be a brat because you wanted more. With Jimin, you always wanted more.

And usually, Jimin was more than happy to provide.

He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it between his teeth as his hands found their place on top of yours still pressed against the glass.

“You sure that’s what you want, baby?” He squeezed both hands as he grinded against you now, the action making you whimper as you wanted more stimulation than what he was currently providing you with. He started kissing down your neck. “You already came once, think you can give me another one?”

You nearly snorted. “Please, Jimin, you act like you don’t edge me for hours on end until I cry some nights.”

You felt him smirk against your skin.

“Well the difference there, princess,” he removed one hand and a second later you felt him lining himself up behind you, “is that’s in the comfort of our own home.”

It wasn’t lost on you how your heart skipped a beat when he said ‘our home.’

Before he continued, he had to check: “Color?”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “Green.”

Jimin started slowly easing into you, making your lips part.

“But this right now,” he kept filling you up at that same agonizing pace, making you more impatient but you didn’t want to push any harder than you already had, for fear he may stop completely. “We run the risk of others seeing.”

“Since I’m selfish,” he had finally filled you completely before pulling all the way back out until only his tip remained sheathed. One hand wound it’s way into your hair and tugged tight, making you snap your head back to bear your neck for him.

He placed one kiss underneath your ear before he growled, “I’m the only one who gets to see you fall apart like that.”

He slammed into you roughly, setting a ruthless pace from the get-go. You choked out moans as his hold in your hair gripped tighter, pulling your head back more.

“Shit, still so tight for me after I fucked you open with my fingers?” Jimin grunted right beside your ear before he pressed his lips against your neck. You felt him begin to suck, the action pulling a breathless moan from you.

“Wanna mark you up, baby,” Jimin said as soon as he released your neck. “Take my time covering as much of your body as I want, maybe that way Jungkook will know to mind his fucking business.”

At the mention of Jungkook’s name, Jimin thrusted harshly, nearly making you collide with the window.

You began to wonder then if it really bothered Jimin that Jungkook somewhat paid attention to how you acted around the office-

-but you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of a phone ringing.

Jimin paid it no mind, continuing his descent down your neck, leaving marks to claim you as his own. The feeling was delightful in every way as it was paired with how viciously he was fucking you, but the phone was distracting you and it sounded awfully close…

A quick glance down was enough for you to see Jimin’s phone screen lit up for a moment before the call ended.

Since the phone stopped ringing, you once again focused on the task at hand: getting your brains fucked out by your boyfriend in front of a window where anyone could see if they knew where to look.

Jimin removed his hand from your hair, letting your head fall forward. His other hand gripped your waist tightly as he reached around to grab at your chest.

“I think there’s a bit too much clothing in the way, what do you think, princess?”

You nodded feebly, pretty much the only thing you could do since he was rocking you forward at a pace that was relentless.

Jimin pulled down your dress just enough to reveal your bra, immediately brushing his thumb against one of your perked nipples peeking through the lacy fabric. A stuttered moan left your lips, your cheek now pressed against the glass as Jimin’s movements kept pushing you forward.

“Fuck, I love watching you come apart like this. So fucked out and we’ve barely started yet.”

That statement made you shiver with anticipation for what was to come.

Would Jimin take you on his desk again? Or maybe even your own?

Hell, for a more sadistic twist, why not even give Jungkook’s desk a go?

Jimin’s phone rang again for the second time, and you were just bent over enough that you could make out the name on the front.

Jungkook was calling Jimin.

“Uh, Jimin,” you tried to say but his name sounded more like a pathetic whine as his next move knocked all the breath out of you. “Sir, wait.”

Jimin slowed but didn’t stop, hand still caressing your breast but only lightly rubbing against your nipple now.

“What is it, baby?” You turned your head so you could try and look at him, and his face immediately showed signs of concern.

“Are you hurt? What’s your color?”

You smiled sweetly at him. “Green, I promise. I just-“

You looked down and nodded to his phone that had just stopped ringing once more, and Jimin’s gaze followed your own. He paused all his movements.

“What, the phone? It must have fallen out of my pocket. Do you want me to put it on silent or something-”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just- Jungkook keeps calling you.”

Jimin blinked, giving you a perplexed expression before he frowned.

“Why does that matter right now?”

“I guess it doesn’t really, but what if it’s important?”

Jimin hummed in thought, hand disappearing from the front of your dress to mirror the other one on your waist. “There is a possibility. I guess if he keeps calling I’ll answer it-“

As if his words were some magical cue, the phone rang again, Jungkook’s name lighting up the screen.

Jimin pulled out of you carefully to reach down and grab the phone. You figured it wouldn’t be a long phone call, but you didn’t want to sit here on display for the world if Jimin wasn’t fucking you through it.

As soon as you tried to slink away, a hand on your hip stopped you.

You looked behind you to see Jimin shushing you before he accepted the call, hand caressing the skin of your exposed hip since your dress was still pushed up.

“Kook, hey, what’s up?”

You couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but it was clear Jimin wanted you to stay here. So you tried pulling your dress down, but he stopped you.

You felt him line up with your entrance once more, causing you to look at him with wide eyes. The look you were met with was intense, dark and filled with want as Jimin stared you down.

“Sure, gimme just a second,” Jimin responded, the whole time keeping his eyes on you. He pulled the phone away and tapped the mute button.

Before you could ask what was happening, Jimin started explaining.

“Since the idea of him being around turns you on so much,” he pushed in a tiny bit, “I figured I’d let him be on the phone while we continued.”

You gulped, unable to keep yourself from letting out a little whine at the insinuation.

“What’s it gonna be, princess? Gonna let me fuck you good while Jungkook might hear us?”

You clenched around nothing, since Jimin was barely inside you yet, nodding before you could even think about it.

“Color?”

“Green,” you managed to stammer out. Your heart was racing at the idea of Jimin fucking you while simultaneously being on the phone.

Yeah, he’d been on a video call earlier which is admittedly more risky. But now the stakes were raised with you, half nude up against a window while he spoke to his best friend as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Jimin pushed in more, about halfway inside you now. “You sure this is what you want, baby?”

“Yes sir, please-”

Before you were even done begging you noticed Jimin had removed his already loosened tie, dangling it in front of your face.

“Gonna have to stuff that lovely mouth of yours so you can keep quiet for me, think you can do that?”

You nodded, waiting for what was to come. It wasn’t the first time you’d been gagged with something before, and you both had a system in play where you could tell him if something was too much despite not having your voice.

And honestly? You kinda really fucking enjoyed it. A lot.

“Good girl. Open.”

You opened your mouth wide enough to accommodate the fabric as Jimin stuffed it full of his tie, being careful not to choke you but also making sure your sounds would be muffled.

When Jimin deemed you were prepared, he took the phone off mute.

“Sorry about that, I needed to take care of something.”

“No worries, dude.”

Your eyes widened when you realized not only was the phone unmuted, but Jimin also put it on speaker. And he decided then was the perfect time to push all the way into you, the unexpected movement making you choke around the tie for a moment.

His hand that was holding onto your waist squeezed roughly, a warning. You looked up at his reflection in the window and noticed that he was staring right back at you. He licked his lips while he gazed into your eyes through the glass, closing them a moment later before he looked away.

“What can I do for you,” Jimin asked, his tone still even despite him dragging his cock along your walls with slow strokes, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“Ah, nothing really, it’s more that…well, I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? About what?”

“Well, saying shit to you about Y/N like that, I feel like I struck a nerve.”

Jimin sped up and you balled your hands into fists, nails leaving crescent moons inside your palms. You hoped maybe the pain would distract you from the overwhelming sensation that was Jimin, but you could only do so much.

“Jungkook it’s fine, I’m not mad about it.”

You heard Jungkook expel an exasperated groan on the other end. “Yeah ok sure, but like, are you really ok? You seem extremely off tonight and I’m asking as your best friend, not your business partner.”

Jimin hit a particular spot in you that had your eyes rolling back, a soft moan tumbling through your lips before you could catch it. Your eyes shot open in terror, hoping that Jungkook hadn’t heard you-

-but he was off on another one of his long-winded tangents, so you figured you were safe.

And you were safe, because Jimin muted the phone again.

“Hey, princess,” he rolled his hips teasingly, just to mess with you. “How you doing over there? Excited now that you’re finally getting what you want?”

Jimin’s taunting mixed with the lulled voice of Jungkook in the background had you biting down on the tie, determined not to say anything and give Jimin the satisfaction.

“Oh? My little brat doesn’t have anything to say now that she’s getting her way?”

You gave him a challenging glare through the window, one that he accepted not with his eyes, but with a devious grin.

Jimin tutted, putting a stop to his thrusts and making you let out a panicked whine.

“Shh, don’t worry, baby. I just need you to do something for me.”

You waited, immobile, forgetting about everything else except the man behind you.

Jimin had a habit of invading all your sense like that.

“…and you know I’d never make fun of you or anything like that, I mean you’re my bro, dude, so like if you feel a certain way who am I to judge, you know…”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, just in time for Jimin’s next command.

“Put one hand on the window for me.”

Puzzled, but still ever obedient, you complied immediately, swallowing thickly around the tie.

“Perfect. Keep your other hand down for now, baby, we don’t need it yet.”

Ok you were very confused but fuck it, you had already gone this far.

“…we’ve known each other since we were kids so of course I can tell if you’re bothered by something. Do you remember that time in school, when someone stole your favorite pencil and I had to have a serious talk with them…”

Jimin pushed into you without a warning, ripping a much louder moan from your throat.

“God, even with your mouth full you can still make those sounds that drive me crazy. Sweet little noises all for me, right?”

You nodded vigorously, pleasure consuming you as you continued to whine around the fabric.

“My sweet girl,” Jimin grunted, “always looking so innocent when you prance around the office. Fooling people like Jungkook into thinking you’re so shy-”

Jimin’s arm wound around you again, pulling you closer as he now fucked into you at an angle that had him hitting deeper.

He groaned as your walls fluttered around him. “Fuck, you have everyone thinking you’re so shy, so sweet, when in reality you beg me to ruin you nearly every fucking day.”

His voice was oozing with charm, dripping like honey as he simultaneously praised and spat filth at you.

“Hold your other hand up for me, princess.”

You obeyed because of course you did. Your eyes had long been closed, so you weren’t sure where he needed it specifically, but you supposed he’d made it work.

You felt him place something in your palm, and when you realized what it was, your eyes snapped open to search for his reflection again.

“…ok so I may have gotten sidetracked going down memory lane, I really gotta work on that…”

With every word from Jungkook, you could feel the vibrations of the phone from the speaker. Which, in some odd way, turned you on even more.

If that was possible at this point.

“Keep that for me, will you?” Jimin flexed his fingers around his hold on you before gripping even tighter.

His now unoccupied hand started creeping up your front, resting just above your collarbones as his sinful eyes captivated yours through the glass.

“I need both my hands free. I have a brat to tame.”

Jimin’s hand finished its journey when it wrapped around your neck, just enough pressure applied so that he could pull you closer to him with help from his hold around your midsection.

Once you were nearly flush against him, he instead opted for curling his hand delicately around your jaw. Since you were still gagged, he didn’t want to do anything that may cut off airflow.

Jimin always took this very seriously, with safety and comfort most important, while also still turning events like these into the most pleasurable times you’d ever had with someone else.

Even though his touch was gentle-

-the way he was now pounding into you was anything but.

Each thrust was powerful and calculated, making you lurch forward to where you had to brace yourself against the window with your forearm, careful not to drop his phone.

You didn’t even know what kind of sounds you were making now, but you could hear Jimin’s chuckle.

“Make sure you hold on tight to my phone, princess. I’ve got a very important person on the line.”

You were very well aware that Jungkook was still on the phone, but you also very much did not care in the moment.

“He’s not watching us like you wanted, but maybe he can hear those pretty sounds of yours. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

As much as you’d like to deny it, the idea made you clench hard around him, causing his hips to stutter for a moment before he resumed.

“Fuck, of course you would, so eager for an audience. You really want Jungkook to hear you that badly, huh? Want him to know what you sound like when you’re being ruined like this? When I’m fucking you senseless?”

“…ok I’m done now. I know I talked for way too long – you know how I get…”

“Sounds like Jungkook is expecting a response. Gonna unmute the phone, baby? Go ahead, let him hear how loud you can be.”

You knew it was a trap. It’d be a cold day in hell before Jimin let anyone else listen to you like that.

Summoning up all your resolve, you bit down harshly, fabric muffling you as you pressed the mute key.

“Jimin? You there?”

Funny, even fucked out you still managed to have perfect timing.

Jimin had to clear his throat before he could respond, tone sounding much more normal now and less dangerous.

Thank fuck for that.

“Yeah, Kook, I’m still here. Thanks for all that, really. It’s nice of you to check up on me like this.”

You could tell Jimin was trying really hard to concentrate on not being suspicious. So this was getting to him.

You leaned forward so you could rest your weight on your forearm, taking your other hand off the window – without being told to do so – so you could move Jimin’s hand from around your jaw to instead have him twist it in your hair.

Once his hand was secure, you slowly bent your head back to look at him, knowing that this particular position always got him going.

Him fucking you from behind, pulling on your hair while you looked at him from this angle?

Park Jimin was a strong man, but even strong men fold sometimes.

Now that you weren’t looking at him through a reflection anymore, you could clearly see all the emotions conveyed by his eyes.

They were clouded by an intense lust, but also a hint of irritation at you disobeying him by removing your hand from the window.

He was also biting his lip, something he did to keep himself from moaning and, in this case, from reprimanding you.

Can’t really punish you while he’s having a casual conversation with his best bro, can he?

Meanwhile, Jungkook was happily babbling away on the other end, completely oblivious.

Jimin glared at you, grip tightening in your hair as he pulled harder, making you gasp.

“You know, I was looking out the office window earlier and the view is incredible tonight.”

That was Jimin’s subtle way of letting you know that you were still on display and that managed to knock you down a peg from your disobedient high.

“Funny you should mention that, actually.”

Something about that sentence made you feel…weird. But before you could put much thought into it, Jimin had reached out to press the mute key himself.

“Holy shit, this is harder than I thought,” he breathed out, shaky moan falling from his lips. “I can’t keep this up much longer, your pussy feels too good for me to even try.”

You felt a burst of pride at that. You were making the Park Jimin crumble?

Talk about a power trip.

You couldn’t bask in it too long, though, because Jimin was pulling your hair so tight that your head bent back more, making you whimper.

“Don’t think I forgot about your little stunt from earlier, princess,” he growled.                

“Jimin? Hello? Fuck, I might have bad service down here…”

You unmuted the phone again, catching one last glare from Jimin before you straightened yourself back up, his hand disappearing from your hair to settle on your shoulder.

“No, I’m here, Kook, sorry.”

“It’s ok, I think I’m in the clear now! I’m back outside again, so-”

Back outside? What-

Your eyes drifted down, noticing an all too familiar figure making their way to the office building from the parking deck across the street.

Jungkook was walking in long strides, phone pressed to his ear and still dressed in his work clothes from earlier. He hadn’t been in the office earlier that day, conducting their meeting from another location, but here he was now.

And he was making his way across the street much too quickly for your liking.

You muted the phone and started patting Jimin’s thigh erratically with your other hand.

Everything stopped.

Jimin carefully pulled out of you and spun you around, forgetting all about the phone.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me, are you ok?” His tone was worried, every trace of his dominant persona he’d displayed a mere minute ago gone. He gently removed the tie from your mouth, making you inhale sharply. He looked you over, brows furrowing deeply in concern.

“I’m ok, I’m fine,” you rushed out. “I promise. But-”

“Are you sure? Because that’s your signal-”

You caressed the side of Jimin’s face and kissed him softly, feeling him sigh against your lips as you wound your arms around him.

“I promise I’m fine. But I needed to get your attention and that was the only way I knew how, given the situation.”

You watched as it occurred to Jimin that this was another reason you would use that signal, and for a moment he almost seemed…embarrassed?

“O-oh, I see. Well, what did you need?”

You whirled around so fast you almost knocked him down, muttering out a quick apology before you pointed out the window.

“Jungkook is on his way here.”

“Wait, what,” Jimin pushed past you and sure enough, Jungkook wasn’t far away from the office entrance.

Jimin took the phone from you, quickly unmuting it.

“Kook, where are you right now?”

“Hm? Oh, you’re back! Great, the phone reception works again.”

You had to stifle a giggle at Jimin’s eye roll.

“Yes, it works, but where are you?”

“Oh, right. Well I figured I’d drop by the office and see if you were still there-”

Your brain told you now was the perfect time to be chaotic, so you wrapped your hand around Jimin’s length that had slowly started to soften.

He hissed and you felt him twitch in your hold while you stroked him languidly.

When he looked at you, you simply mouthed ‘payback’ and started stroking harder. Jimin pulled his lip between his teeth.

“I-I’m not there anymore.”

“What? You’re not?”

“No, I uh, I left earlier.”

“Ok…guess I don’t need to come up then.”

Jimin was letting out small pants now, turned away from the phone as much as possible. While he was distracted, you tried to sink down to your knees to surprise him further.

Jimin grasped your chin before you could move, shaking his head at you while Jungkook kept talking.

“…wait a minute. Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Jimin’s breath hitched when you increased your speed with your hand, doing exactly what you knew he liked.

“If you’re not here, why is your car in the parking garage?”

Both of you froze.

“Yeah, I forgot I passed by it on my way earlier.”

“Oh uh, I went for a – a walk! Yeah, just wanted some fresh air, you know how it goes.”

Silence from the other end for a few moments.

“…is that why you sound so out of breath right now? You really need to start going with me on my morning runs, dude. Increase your stamina.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing at that.

Jimin groaned, both from your actions and from Jungkook’s jab. “Bye, Kook. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A lighthearted laugh crackled through the speaker. “Fine, fine. See you soon. Let me know if you need anything though, yeah?”

Jimin genuinely smiled at that. “Always do.”

Jungkook hung up first, and you scrambled to look out the window just in time to see him retreating into the parking deck.

With a sigh, you leaned your head against the glass, facing Jimin. You took a second to just admire him.

The man who had your heart in his hands, the man who you cared so deeply for that it frightened you, the man who fucked you like no one ever had before and you imagined like no one ever would again.

And for that last one, you hoped you’d never have to test out that theory.

You were staring at Jimin with so many emotions swirling through your eyes: desire, admiration, but most of all love.

Was it too early in your relationship to feel like this? Maybe. But with Jimin, anything seemed possible, so you didn’t question it.

“Like what you see?”

Jimin spoke sarcastically with a snarky smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He stepped forward, one hand fondling your thigh before he pulled your leg up to wrap it around his waist. You steadied yourself by finding purchase on his shoulders.

Your back was completely pushed up against the window now, and Jimin brushed your nose with his, content smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Love holding you close like this,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him back lazily before you decided to tease him again.

“Getting all sentimental on me, sir?”

Jimin eyed you, a mischievous glint buried within his gaze. “Can I not tell my woman how much I love holding her?”

You pretended to think about it, which prompted Jimin to pinch your side. You jolted, making him snicker.

“Had enough fun for today, princess?”

You actually did have to ponder over that question for a moment, and you deemed that yes, the events of the day had been enough for you.

“Honestly, I kinda just want to be home with you and have a relaxing night. I’m a bit tired.”

Jimin laughed. “Oh boy, I wonder why.”

He helped you stand up straight since your legs were teetering slightly. It made you wonder if you might have trouble walking tomorrow from how rough he had fucked you earlier.

You adjusted your clothing so you were once again presentable while Jimin did the same, and the two of you exited the building after making sure everything was in order.

With all of your energy having been consumed, sleep found you easily in the comfort of Jimin’s arms.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

The next morning you were cursing Jimin’s name as you got ready for work. The fruits of his labor from the previous night were presenting themselves all up and down your neck. It took an enormous amount of concealer to hide the markings he’d given you, and when he walked by you that morning, he couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration.

You tried to glare at him angrily through the bathroom mirror as he started getting ready himself, trying your hardest to ignore the NEVERMIND tattoo that spanned across his ribcage.

Jimin met your eyes and shrugged. “I did tell you I was going to do it, so you can’t act too surprised.”

He had you there. You pouted.

“Well, you owe me new concealer then,” you grumbled. Jimin simply smiled.

“I think I can handle that.”

You didn’t just have to worry about shades of purple showing on your neck throughout the day at work, but you had to also try to walk as casually as possible. There wasn’t as much of a ‘pep in your step’ today thanks to Mr. Park and his eagerness whilst fucking.

This wouldn’t have been an issue most days, since the only person you typically saw was Jimin, but Jungkook just so happened to stop by with coffee and some briefing files.

He greeted you casually, big smile adorning his face. You waved back like you always did, but you found it hard to look him in the eyes.

A few minutes after their impromptu meeting started, Jimin called for you to bring some files in. You did so, walking as normal as possible, feeling Jungkook’s gaze rake over you. It made you self-conscious, so you were quick to leave once you were sure you weren’t needed anymore.

But you didn’t walk back to your desk yet, since your curiosity got the better of you.

“Is she ok?” You heard Jungkook ask Jimin since the door was still slightly ajar.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…she seems kinda jumpy today.”

You held the files securely against your chest as you listened.

“Might be that ‘pep in her step’ you were talking about yesterday.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth at Jimin’s remark and heard Jungkook let out what sounded like a nervous laugh.

“Aha, yeah, maybe – she also keeps touching her neck, though-”

“Jungkook, I think you’re paying a bit too much attention to her,” Jimin’s voice was taking on that tone that you and Jungkook both knew quite well – despite it being for very different reasons.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Anyways, as I was saying about this section for the case…”

You walked away then so you could resituate yourself at your desk to resume your own work. One simple text message was awaiting you when you did.

[Jimin] 10:54 AM: Way to be subtle, baby.

You bit your lip before you shot back with a response, one that you knew could get you into trouble.

[y/n] 10:55 AM: At least he pays attention to me :)

You didn’t receive a message back. Instead, Jimin calmly informed you that he would be needing your assistance with something very important later that day when he was walking Jungkook out of the office an hour later.

That important task consisted of you sitting on the edge of his desk while he continued to edge you far longer than he had the previous night. He would coax you with sweet praises as his head was between your legs, taking care of you in a way only he could, before he denied your release multiple times.

That night, Park Jimin taught you a lesson in ‘attentiveness’ that you wouldn’t soon forget.

#bts #bts smut #bangtaninn #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin au #jimin x reader #jimin scenarios #make me series

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

#corpse #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband #husband #corpsehusband #corpse imagines #corpse simp #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #fluff #angst #romance #love #comfort #x reader #reader #reader insert #x y/n #y/n #requests open #requests

[jameui]

MOVIE DATE

PAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x Manager!M!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: Hyunjin being a jerk

SUMMARY: You boyfriend, Hyunjin took you out on a date to watch your favorite movie.

You sighed in exhaustion and as if the world was trying to test you, a fast running bicycle came your way causing you to jump to the side, so fast that you forgot about the takeouts you had in your hands and at a blink of an eye the neatly boxed items fell to the ground, all the food now spilled on the floor with your eyes widening in fear. "Shit!" You yelled out and tried to get back to the restaurant again, but as soon as you got there the line was already long and it'd take you ages to get to the counter to order, again.

You were at your way to your work with your phone squeezed in between your shoulder and ear as you talked to your co-manager on the other line who seemed agitated for your tardiness, while you tried to balance the foods you were made to order. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure that won't happen again." You told the male before the call was cut short when he decided to hang up all of a sudden.

Looking around, you saw a chinese restaurant that had the smallest line, so you went there and bought the food there, even though the orders of the group was not exactly what they wanted for you to buy. You just couldn't go back empty handed.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the venue of the fansign event and got there just in time before Stray Kids were called to the stage for their activity to be done, but the moment you got there you saw that the people present were already eating their food away. They noticed your presence entering the room whilst their head turned to look at you. "I... Good morning, everyone." You greeted them. 'Guess their manager got their food delivered.'

You didn't get a reply, except from the group who was more than happy to see that you had food on your hands. "Hyung! Thank God. I was starving." The group's youngest, Jeongin said as he helped you put the foods down on the table. "You're seriously a life saver."

You smiled at him giving him a muttered thanks that earned you a smile from Jeongin. Honestly speaking, Jeongin was the second best person you ever liked in the group, the first being Lee Felix since he was the only person to ever approach you on your first day since he was able to see how much you were so nervous. Felix was also one of the members who taught you korean, the other being Bang Chan. You had always knew the group back then, and now and you were damn thankful that you got the opportunity to be in their circle.

Knowing how young you were to be working for them, they treated you nicely, not because they needed to, rather cause it was in their nature to be caring. Well, at least except one person. You were the closest to Felix who treated you like his personal manager and a friend as well, going out on friendly dates with you to the park, dog cafés, just anywhere Felix would find interesting to visit.

Who's the person that seemed irritated whenever you were around you ask? Why, the one and only visual king, Hwang Hyunjin. He doesn't actually treat you bad, but the way his eyes would always turn dark or displeased when you show up in his line of sight made you feel so small and felt totally unwelcomed. That was then, apparently, since today the male looked a little too quiet and didn't even bother to look at you. Believe me or not that's actually the kindest thing he's done to you.

You would try to go to him to try and talk to him, worried by his silence. You just furrowed your brows and sighed completely aware that no matter how much you try to talk to him he won't even dare to acknowledge you being there for him.

"M/n, are you just gonna stand there? Come and eat." Chan told you, but you just politely declined his offer with the shake of your head before telling him that you had just taken your breakfast and that you were full, more and you feel like your stomach's gonna burst. "Hm, suit yourself, but I'll be leaving mine untouched, so you can eat it when you get hungry, yeah?"

"You're so kind, Chan." You gave him a smile that got Chan smiling also showing his deep dimples that you could just dive in it anytime soon.

"Hey, hey, hey! We've known each other the longest. Why do I still have to call you 'hyung' and M/n doesn't?" Jisung, one of the group's rapper, pouted with folded arms as Chan chuckled before ruffling the kid's hair that Jisung angrily shook off.

"Well, since he's not that spoiled, unlike you." Chan answered Jisung who gasped dramatically. "And he also gained my permission, so—"

"Whenever or not he's around, is he the only person that ever comes into your mind?" That all too familiar voice spoke out, all your heads turning towards the person. He scoffed and stood up with a smirk on his face, probably in disbelief that the whole group was talking to you and always thought about you. "I mean, come on. There's gotta be something else to talk about other than this... person." You felt his eyes look at you while your eyes stared at him with rising anger. "There's sports, other artists, songs, music, so many and you chose to pick him as the topic of your talk."

"Hyunjin, that is very disrespectful." Chan gritted out, but Hyunjin knew better than to listen or to even stop.

"I'm really not, hyung." Hyunjin's smirk grew wider eyeing you with a suspicious look on his eyes. An idea popped in his head as he opened his mouth to talk. "But, if you want to, I could show you how disrespectful I can get." Without any warning, he took the take-out container and bottled drink in his hand and gave you no second to react as he poured all of its contents onto your head with a loud gasp coming out of you. "There. I'll call it a masterpiece even."

"Hwang Hyunjin!" Bang Chan's voice boomed through the whole room a still smirking Hyunjin turning around to face the older male who was fuming with anger. "You—"

"Chan!" You called out to him before things got a little out of hand. For pete's sake their going to just fight because Hyunjin had made a mess of you? You were not even worth the fight. "No. I'm fine. I can just quickly change, that's all. I'll be right back and I better get no reports about you two fighting." You told the two, Chan rolling his eyes.

You got out of the room and ran as fast as you can to the nearest restroom, cleaning yourself as soon as you arrived. Times like this you would immediately bawl your eyes out, but with the constant behavior that Hyunjin showed to you, you grew used to it. Heck, you even sometimes feel that the other boys only act like they liked you being there and when you weren't, they'd stab you behind your back. "Goodness, why won't this get off."

"Need help?" A raspy voice came from the entrance of the restroom, turning your head around to see Felix leaning himself on the door frame with his arms crossed, then untangled them to let his hands rest inside his pockets and stepped inside as you smiled at him. "Do you need more tissue?"

You shook your head at him, your attention back on your stained favorite shirt wiping them clean with the tissues the place's restroom owned. "Nah, there's plenty here. Besides, I'm all dried up now." You said and showed yourself to him, Felix knitting his brows in worry.

He seeped air through his teeth and cocked his head to the side, unsure if you should be wearing that now dirty shirt when you'd be with them during the activity the whole time. "I don't think you should be wearing that."

"Why? It's my favorite sweater." You chuckled half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I know, M/n, but it's dirty. Plus, I think it gets pretty uncomfortable seeing that stain on your shirt and it gets sticky. Yeugh." Felix pretended to barf which got you laughing softly. Felix, though not trying to be funny, whatever he does it always seemed so funny to you.

"Fine, fine. I'll go change, the problem though is that I didn't bring an extra shirt with me today." You told Felix scratching your nape.

"Really? Well, I guess we have to borrow from one of the group's." Felix suggested, but your eyes grew sizes bigger upon hearing that and waved your hands.

"No way, Felix! I have already done enough damage, I can't afford to borrow a shirt from one of the members, or to you even." You told him, but it all fell on deaf ears as Felix refused to listen. "I'm just trouble, Felix. You don't have to worry about me."

Felix hummed with two fingers pinching his chin gently. "Yeah, I don't think so." He took your wrist and started to drag you back to the dressing room. "Come on, I know there's someone willing to let you borrow a shirt." You just sighed, knowing that Felix won't even dare to change his mind when he had already set them on something.

Alas, as you two got there, none of the members even had a spare shirt to let you borrow. They were very willing and even tried to look around if there was anything, but to no avail. Although, there was one last person you didn't ask. "Hyunjin. You were the cause of this mess, you let him borrow your shirt." Felix sternly told the older male who pilled his brows together.

"What?! No way! Are you telling me I'd offer to do something for that guy? No!" Hyunjin retorted making Felix growl.

Felix was so ready to throw punches at the male who didn't seem to be bothered by the situation, but you just put a hand on Felix's shoulder and assured him. "That's alright, Felix. My sweater was thick enough to not get my undershirt wet. Although, I'm grateful for your effort." You smiled at him and sighed.

Just in time, you heard a call from one of your co-manager that the group was already being requested to be at the stage right now. You gave them an encouraging smile as they all did the same. "Alright boys. It's time to go out there and meet millions of your fans."

The group all shouted, excluding Hyunjin, hurray and hurried out to get on stage, you following behind after you were able to discard your sweater, leaving you only on your black t-shirt. You shivered at the cold now that you were left with a thin clothing that wasn't appropriate for the type of weather you were having and not mention that the place was fully air-conditioned.

Your shaking was not too evident, but one of the members, Seungmin, was able to notice it. Feeling pity he made his way to Hyunjin and tried to convince him. "Jinnie, M/n's cold. Please lend him your jacket, at least. He'll get sick if he continues to get exposed to the cold."

"Better for him."

"Hyunjin, please... Besides, you're already wearing thick layers of clothes why not let M/n borrow." Seungmin reasoned out and solemnly knitted his brows to persuade the male, Hyunjin rolling his eyes at his bestfriend and huffed before taking his jacket off of him and handed it over to Seungmin who silently squeaked. "Thanks, Hyunjin." Hyunjin brushed it off with a 'whatever', the younger of the two jogging his way towards you and gave you the jacket he got from Hyunjin. "I noticed your shivering, so I want you to take this jacket and no, you can't say you can't accept it."

You nodded your head at him and took the jacket from his hands. "Thank you, Seungmin."

"My pleasure." He smiled at you with those puppy dog like smile. He skipped back to reunite with his group while you put on the jacket that Seungmin offered you. You were still in thought though how Seungmin was able to convince Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket. You knew Hyunjin owned the jacket since he wouldn't let them go since the moment you arrived.

You noticed how the jacket was too big for you, since the sleeves of the piece of clothing only let your fingers peek out through the holes while the flaps reached further down your hips, but it totally felt cozy and smelled like... Hyunjin. How do you explain it? You don't even know where to begin. It was him. The reason why you wanted to work with Stray Kids. You didn't want to look like you were some type of stalker, but all you ever wanted was to befriend Hyunjin.

The befriending process didn't go the way you actually thought it would go. Everytime his eyes met yours or you heard his voice you'd get all flustered and so nervous that your tongue always gets tied, the words you want to tell him gets trapped inside your mouth. It all started to be just an admiration towards the slightly older male until your determination to become his friend gradually became an unknown feeling towards Hyunjin, until realizing later that you actually liked the group's rapper, despite all his bad treatment towards you.

Back to reality, you hugged yourself and took in the wonderful scent the artist gave off until one of your co-worker nudged you. "Hey, stop sniffing the clothes. You totally look like a sasaeng."

"W-what? I wasn't sniffing anything." You denied it earning an eye roll. Later, you heard the whole place bursted into shouts of joy and excitement as Stray Kids made their appearance on the stage greeting all their fans inside and outside of the place. They all took their turns taking the mic to express their happiness and gratefulness to their ocean of fans that filled up the whole place.

Soon, the group was seated at a long rectangular table that was a perfect fit letting all the members seat on their respective seats. There were chairs as well settled in front of the table with each settled across a specific member.

You were appointed to keep guard and stand behind Hyunjin, in any case of fans throwing shade at him or any forms of harm or hate towards the member who had just been caught up in a supposed bullying rumor.

The line started to form as people who were present inside the place took their turns to talk to each member and get a sign from them. So far, you could only wonder how paranoid the company was to keep you on guard of Hyunjin when all these people here are Stays and they wouldn't do such thing to throw hate to any members in the group. Right?

The line was still too long to be gone in just minutes making you sigh, hearing your tummy rumble hoping that no one heard that. You now finally regret not eating that noodles that Chan offered you, the hunger finally hitting your system as your tummy continued to grumble. You pursed your lips and forced your eyes closed while you brought your head down in embarrassment. 'Fuck... why now?'

After a short while, the line was starting to get shorter and shorter, you thanking the heavens for the fast passing by of the time. But, the moment you least expected to happen happened. You felt a harsh tap on your legs and another and another after it finally took your attention, getting a little shocked that the action was done by the person who hated you the worst. "Take it before I change my mind." He told you. You complied and bowed at him politely as he tuts his tongue. "Who would even think of going to work on an empty stomach?"

'You... poured it on me?' You thought then shrugging it off before you looked at the treat offered to you by Hyunjin. You wondered what type of bread it was and hesitated, although Hyunjin's back was facing you he was able to sense your hard time on trying to eat what he gave you.

"It's not poisoned, M/n." He whispered as he signed the album that had his photo on it, then looking up at the fan who would like to talk to him.

Their talk wasn't audible to you, but you opened the packaging of the nicely wrapped pastry and bit on it with your body facing the wall so your back was turned against the people to cover yourself while you ate. One of your co-manager did notice your unwanted behavior and stomped his way to you and took the baked good from your hands and threw it to the ground to step on it and crush it good. "What do you think you're doing, L/n?! You're being inappropriate right now." He gritted out to you with a small voice almost like a whisper so no one else would hear you two. You bowed your head subtly before a hand was placed right below your chin as you looked up at him confused. "Spit." He ordered, referring to the food you were chewing.

You nod your head and spit out the food that was in your mouth into his hand while he picked up the wasted food and left, then threw it all at a trash can. "Fuck." You sighed as you held your chest and slowly turned around to face the non-existent line, the group now interacting with their fans.

Just looking at them now, you were able to remember when you were the one who was there seated at the chairs shouting out the name of the person you would call as your bias, which is no other than Kim Seungmin. At least, when you still didn't take the job to be one of the group's manager. Usually, it would only take one manager to manage the group, but why did this group require another one? You questioned yourself. It was all unexplained to you, but all you gotta do was to just be glad that you get to be friends with the people you see as your role models.

"Hyunjin-ah! When did you start trading jackets with your manager?" The question came out as a shout that got everyone laughing, including the group. You were only able to chuckle knowing that it was Seungmin who convinced Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket.

Hyunjin didn't get to answer the question, when another fan spoke from the crowd that got every fans' attention. "Are rumors true that you don't treat Manager L/n well?"

Chan furrowed his brows and picked up his microphone. "Where did you get this story?" He chuckled trying to make it sound that it wasn't true and just pure bluff. Chan looked at Hyunjin with the face that told Hyunjin that he should start treating you well if he didn't want the netizens to know about his treatment towards you. "Anyways, it's seriously not true."

-----------

A few minutes later and the event was finally finished and the group was bidding their goodbyes to their fans as they started to walk backstage. You waited for them at their waiting room with a handful of bottled waters for the boys to pick up once they get inside. The door soon opened revealing the group with a tense atmosphere following them that got you so confused. "Hey—"

"Hyunjin. If word gets out about your mistreatment to M/n, that would be a serious damage to our image and to M/n as well, 'cause he's obviously in pain because of you!" Chan yelled at the trouble causing male who only rolled his eyes paying no heed to his warning.

"Atleast, I never went too far as to really hurt him physically." Hyunjin deadpanned Chan growling at his response. Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, then to Chan not knowing what to do in this situation.

"You are seriously being a jerk right now, Hyunjin." Chan fumed in anger while Hyunjin just continued to act deaf and played on his phone. Chan, giving up, sighed and plopped down on his seat. "Ayayay."

They took turns in getting your glances as you thought of a way to calm the atmosphere. You had already been their manager for a over a year now and this was the only time that Hyunjin ever spoke up to Chan and, to top it off, with sass and without the slightest feeling of being bothered. That was the moment you felt like you had enough. You've had enough with all these things. You were tired of yourself to even think that Hyunjin would finally soften up to you and be his friend. You were wrong to even apply for this kind of job. The group wouldn't be fighting if it hadn't been for you appearing in their lives all so suddenly. "Guys... let him do as he pleases. I'll be the one to take of whatever the netizens hear."

Chan raised his eyes up at you with furrowed brows. "What do you plan on doing? Whatever it is don't do it."

You smiled and nodded. "I won't, Chan." You held up the bottles in your hands and turned on a toothy smile. "Water? Anyone?" They all sighed in relief and got their turns in picking their own bottled water, the last one not being picked up by Hyunjin, so you decided to give it to him. You brought the cold drink to his face making him flinch as he looked up at you. "Thank you for the bread, by the way." You told him and giggled. "I've already packed your jacket in your bag." You informed him and patted his back.

The once crazily terrifying atmosphere now turned into a more comfortable one, the one you always would want to see. You didn't know what got you the courage to speak or blurt out whatever you had in your mind, but you looked at Hyunjin and said: "Hyunjin, can I talk to you privately?" Thankfully, their loud voices was able to distract themselves from hearing your request to Hyunjin who sighed and nodded his head. He stood up from his seat and started to move outside of the room. You followed behind closely, feeling intimidated by the month older's tall figure. "Hyunjin..."

"Cut to the chase, M/n. I don't have much time." He told you as you nod your head in understanding and fiddled with your fingers.

"I know, you'd probably like hearing this, but could I have the permission to quit as your group's manager?" You asked him, his forehead creasing that made him pull his brows together. "I was able to notice what the group had become the moment I became your manager—"

"And do you think quitting would change it?" Hyunjin asked you with a raised brow. "If anything, it'd probably—no, it would break their hearts to know that you quitted. If you do so, you're not only quitting as a manager, but as their friend as well."

"And you're able to say that after you purposely tried to have me fired or suspended from work by offering me that bread?" You sarcastically answered, Hyunjin clearing his throat.

"Well... that wasn't my intention. I didn't even know it'd get you fired." Hyunjin replied making you chuckle.

"Yeah..." You replied with a sad smile. "But, I don't wanna be the reason why you and Chan would always fight. Stray Kids is Stray Kids because they're fun and loving, caring. And I don't want to change that by being around the group." Hyunjin never replied anymore and you sighed. "I'm heading back now." You said and as you started to walk back inside, Hyunjin spoke.

"I wish you never entered our life, at all, M/n." He told you that got your heart broken into pieces. Sure, you admitted that he never liked you even just a bit, but him saying it so bluntly to you, it's like he does really mean it and could only care less. You were about to speak when Hyunjin beat you to it. "If so, I wouldn't be able to garner these undeniable feelings I have for you."

You froze. Were you hearing right? You just cleaned your ears this morning, well you do it everyday. Is your ear trying to play with you? "W-what?"

"DAMN! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT?!" You gasped with your mouth full of popcorn, your boyfriend, Hyunjin seated beside you at the movie theater. He smiled at you admiring how cute you looked with your shocked expression that was being illuminated by the big screen. "Jinnie! Look, they're gonna kiss! AH!!" As the two actors in the movie was about to kiss, one of the movie's cast bursted out of the door cutting the kiss and earned a few 'oh's and 'I hate you, Chan's. "Chan is such a cock blocker."

"Watch your mouth, babe." Hyunjin told you making you pout.

"It's true, though!" You retorted and Hyunjin could only laugh at your cuteness and honest opinions.

#hwang hyunjin x male reader #bottom male reader #x male reader #bxb #male reader #idol x male reader #kpop #fanfiction #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids #boy group #angsty #skz #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin

[purecantarella]

All For You

i wanted to write a lisa imagine in honor of her AMAZING solo. kept me pumped up over the weekend HAHAAH i initially wanted to write a smut for her, but i couldn't do it for some reason this time round so yall are getting a short but sweet HHAHA

i'll try to write some more smutty fics but for now, fluff and angst for all of you! enjoy!

disclaimer/s : this is just fluff so i think yall are safe

It wasn't often that you were in a bad mood. After all, you were your group's happy pill and your fandom's ray of sunshine. You had a reputation and you liked sticking to that. But after a week of taking blow after blow from your company, you didn't feel like being the usual ray of sunshine you always were.

It hit harder when your mom got sick and you weren't permitted to see her because of time constraints with your comeback schedule.

You sat quietly in the leather seat of the recording studio, waiting for your turn in the booth. Mindlessly, your fingers tore away at one of the label's of your water bottle. Your members eyed you subtly, a wave of sadness flushing in each of them as you were so deflated.

After a while, you felt their gaze on you. You looked up at them, offering them a soft smile, but they knew better. How you felt could be masked with your small, tired, and forced smile. They knew the one person who could cheer you up, in fact she was in the building, but they knew that you would be livid if any of them told Lisa, your close friend, what was going on.

If you asked anyone, they'd say that you and Lisa were one of the cutest pairing in YG's company but at the same time both of you took your careers above one another. Despite that, there was always that pull that kept you both on each other's toes. You knew that you could rely on her and she could with you, but as she was in the thick of her promotion for her own solo so you never wanted to distract her like that.

Make no mistake though, you would love to have her by your side right now but you couldn't stop the feeling of guilt that began to creep inside you when you thought of disrupting her for your own selfish needs. Your other member walked out of the recording booth when your managers called you for lunch.

You brushed them off and with a half-hearted smile, "I'll just chill out here. Maybe practice the song..." You explained as you threw your cell onto the leather seat. The group's leader eyed you suspiciously. "I don't think I've seen you eat the past few days, N/n..."

The smile on your face tightened uncomfortably. "Just heavy midnight snacks, unnie! No need to worry, but you should all get something for lunch. I'll be here." You said rushing them out of the room despite all their questions and concerns.

When they didn't push further, you sighed a breath of relief and slid towards the mic in the booth. Sadly poking the base of the mic. You did your best to sing the parts you knew they needed for backing vocals but your heart just wasn't in it and you found yourself repeating the same lines over and over again. Leaving a frustrated pit in your stomach.

"As much as I love your voice there could be some variety in words." You tore the headset from your ears, letting it fall onto your neck at the familiar, teasing voice. From the back of the producing board stood a smiling, banged Thai woman who made your heart flutter in your chest, almost masking the disappointment that reigned there.

You stared briefly into her bright brown eyes, a brow quirked up on your face your gaze shooting to the floor. "You aren't supposed to be here, Lisa." You said making your way back to the main room, eyes not meeting hers. The dancer leaned up against the edge of the table, the same charming smile over her plump, pink lips. "Never stopped me before, N/n."

Her smile grew as she pushed herself off the table and made her way over to you. Your skin jumped as you felt her hand on your arm, like she always did when she missed you. You avoided eye contact, a heavy blush taking over your cheeks made Lisa smile even wider. "Y-You could've at least called, Lisa."

"I was going to but when I saw your members all leaving together without you, I thought I'd shoot my shot." She paused, her eyes staring into yours. "And I missed you."

Though you could feel yourself melting at the thought, but again you simply turned around not wanting her to see how broken you were. Lisa was always the first to tell, even as friends. Without sparing her a second look you said, "Your comeback is dropping soon, you shouldn't be here."

Lisa tilted her head to the side curiously, "Is that why you haven't looked at me the entire time, Y/n?" With her words, you stoped fiddling with the items in your bag. You bit the inner layer of your cheek, feeling her draw closer. You felt her hand over yours, the warmth from hers lighting a flame in your skin.

"I can tell your hiding something, you can tell me..." You stood there silent, still not daring to look at her. Her shoulders fell as she saw your defenses beginning to break slowly, your lower lip quivering ever so slightly. Despite her better judgement, Lisa took you hand in hers. "I will always make time for you, solo, comeback, or promotion, I'm here, okay?"

Wordlessly, you finally turned to face her completely, your head falling onto her shoulder. For a moment, you both stand there, magnets just gravitated towards one another. "I don't want to be a burden to you or anyone..." You whispered, voice breaking under all the pressure. Lisa wrapped her arms around your shoulders, wanting protecting you from everything that came your way as a sob cracked from your lips.

You began ranting about everything that had been going downhill lately. Your mom, the company, everything, while Lisa stood there, listening to your stories carefully. Once everything came to a stop, Lisa pulled away. Enough that she could see your swollen eyes and red nose to say, "It's all going to work out, alright?" She began wiping away the tears that stained your face. "In the morning, we're going to YG himself to talk about a break for you to take care of your mom, get all your healths back in tip-top shape, and we're going to get through this."

"'We're'?" You asked, a tiny smile taking over your lips. The most genuine that she'd seen all afternoon. Lisa brushed her lips over your nose delicately before placing her forehead over yours. "Like I'd let you stand up to YG-nim on your own, N/n." You giggled softly, leaning into Lisa's touch, eyes going soft.

"Thank you, Lili." Lisa's grin grew tenfold before pulling away. "I'll pick you up after work? We can watch a movie and order take-out. The L family's really starting to miss you." She asked shyly, a rosy blush coating her cheeks. You leaned up and pecked her cheek gently.

"See you at 6, Lalisa." She rolled her eyes as you giggled softly, your smile slowly returning. Lisa opened the door but took one more look at you, warmth and love running rampant in her stomach and chest.

She'd do everything and anything for you. Whether either of you knew it, it was always all for you.

i did thoroughly enjoy writing that, i hope you all enjoyed reading it! i'm working hard to get back on a steady schedule but also my classes are going to start on October 18th so i'm going to have to do A LOT of adjusting

anyway, remember that requests are open and criticism and comments are completely welcomed 💓stay safe, see you all soon, and i love you all very much

stream lalisa yall❣️

#blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink imagines #blackpink reactions #blackpink fluff #lalisa manoban #lisa blackpink #lisa imagines #lisa x reader #lisa reactions #lisa fluff #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop idol x reader #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #girl group fluff #stream lalisa #purecantarella