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retrievablememories · 8 months

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cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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mockerycrow · 10 months

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Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table.

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state.

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately.

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel.

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck.

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless.

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone.

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless.

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed.

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that.

He could have done more.

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time.

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again.

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.”

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it.

A single white pearl hung from the chain.

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you.

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you.

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: tdtrt

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moonstruckme · 7 days

Note

I recently found ur page and omfg I spent hours yesterday reading all ur work!!!! What a lil fic of Sirius and reader but like pre relationship where she's in the hospital (u can pick reason) and she refuses to see anyone and just asks for Sirius

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: hospital, mention of stitches

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

Sirius feels awkward and stiff as he pulls back the curtain, though for all he knows you’re too hopped up on pain meds to even know it’s him. Really, that’s the only reasonable explanation for the directions the nurse had just delivered: “She said she’ll only see Sirius right now.”

He has no clue why you’d ask for him. He’s probably the least comforting of your roommates, and as soon as he catches sight of you, knees tented in front of your chest and hands clasped around your ankles, his worry for your choice deepens.

Someone’s tried to clean you up, but they’ve done a shit job of it. There’s still blood crusted on your chin, and your face is blotchy, your cheeks smeared with dark gray like you’d wiped across them with your hands only to spread your makeup off to the sides. James had said you’d cried the whole car ride to A&E, but Sirius still wasn’t prepared to see you like this. His chest feels hollow and achy.

“Hey,” you say, voice scratchy. If hearts have strings, you’re playing his like a fiddle.

“Hey, doll.” He goes for a smile as he sits on the edge of your little cot, managing to sound halfway normal. “Come here often?”

You start to grin, then stop like it hurts. Sirius stops, too.

“Yeah, you know,” you say, “now and then.”

“Don’t see why.” He makes a show of looking about him, at the papery blue curtain and beige-ish linoleum floors. “Place is sorta depressing.”

You roll your eyes, and Sirius’ heart lightens to see you in a better humor. “Yeah, I think I’ve judged my hangout poorly. I’m dying to get out of here.”

He’ll bet. You’ve been here hours longer than him. James had been the only one home with you when you’d tripped on the stairs and bitten through your lip, and Sirius and Remus had only found out when they’d gotten home and seen the note James left, his already scribbly handwriting worsened by haste and panic. By the time they’d arrived they’d missed most of the action (Sirius was secretly thankful for that) and James had filled them in before the nurse had come out to inform them that you’d gotten three stitches in your lip and summoned Sirius back.

“I can understand that.” He gives you his best approximation of James’ easygoing grin. “You ready to go home then, gorgeous?”

The shift is slight, but Sirius sees your bravado fade, a shyness entering your expression. “That’s actually why I wanted to see you,” you say.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t bother to hide his curiosity. “Why’s that?”

“Because I know you’ll be honest with me.”

He feels his eyebrows go up. “About what, doll?”

You shrink a bit, knees drawing closer to your chest. Your voice is small when you ask, “Is it awful? I mean, do I look awful?”

Ah. Sirius can see why you’d want him for this, but you’re wrong in your assumption. He’d absolutely lie to you if he needed to, just like Remus or James would in his place. But you’ve asked for him, so Sirius tries to do right by you.

“You could never look awful, dollface. Be sensible.” He squints his eyes teasingly, reaching for your ankle and giving it a reprimanding little shake. “It’s just a couple of stitches, you haven’t been warped unrecognizable.”

You frown, and it’s even more upsetting than usual. Your eyes look heart-breakingly insecure. “Are you sure?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure.” Sirius scoffs like you’re unbelievable. “You said it yourself, babe, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He definitely would, but there’ll never be an occasion for that. He can’t imagine you genuinely looking bad. “I can clean you up a bit, though, if you’d like.”

You blink. “Um, yeah. If you think it would help.”

“Brilliant. Sit tight.” Sirius gets up and starts going through drawers, sifting through medical supplies for something he can use.

“Fairly sure you’re not supposed to do that.” You sound like you’re trying not to smile.

“Fairly certain my taxes pay for this place, and they’ve left my best-looking roommate with a dirty face.” He finds a box of mini-wipes, turning back to you. “Don’t tell James I’ve said that.”

“Oh, I’m definitely tattling on you,” you tease, and Sirius is caught between feeling triumphant and worried that you look very near to grinning. He has no clue how easy it is to tear your stitches.

“What, you want us to match? That’s cruel, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t punch you.”

Sirius huffs a laugh, holding you still with a hand on your jaw as he wipes gently at your chin. “You haven’t known him as long as I have.”

Your brows flick up as you meet his eyes, disbelieving. “Our James? You really think our James would hit you for saying he’s not the best looking roommate?”

“Well, not if you’re in front of me,” he muses. He throws out the first wipe, ripping open another. “He already feels bad for you, so maybe that can work in my favor. If you are going to tell him, lean on me as we walk out, okay, doll? Give me a fighting chance.”

The corner of your lips twist as you close your eyes and Sirius wipes sideways across your cheek. “Yeah, fair enough. I’ll do my best for you.”

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haetrack · 2 months

Text

study buddies

haechan x f!reader (ft. doyoung)

wc: 5.6k

warnings: sex mentions, dry humping (MDNI), nothing too graphic, haechan makes a bet against doyoung over you

this is a continuation of me and @hrts4doie nerd!haechan, read part one and part two if you would like! this is the first part, @hrts4doie will post the second part on their account, read here!

“i can’t believe that you haven’t even studied for this test.”

“well, i’ve been busy.”

doyoung rolls his eyes, scrolling through a powerpoint he swears he’s seen a hundred times already. “busy with your new girlfriend? can’t believe she actually asked you out.”

haechan lets out a sarcastic laugh, “you’re so jealous of me, it’s crazy…”

doyoung scoffs, shoving his face closer to his laptop, ignoring the proud smirk on haechan’s face.

haechan never expected to talk to you, never expected to sleep with you, and most definitely didn’t expect for you to to ask him out. he’s always kept to himself, making few friends, like doyoung, from group projects. he didn’t mind his social life, never really care for being alone. but with you by his side, he realized that he could never go back to how he was.

even before he had sex with you, he always found himself staring at you. all he had with you was one shared class, which he was so sure you didn’t even know he was in. you always looked so good, and it was his lucky day when you asked to be in a group with him. when the project was done, he thought you would never talk to him again.

except, you did. you kept up with him, listened to him rambling on about whatever video game, listened when he ranted about a class. you listened when he accidentally confessed that he thinks you’re attractive.

he had immediately taken his words back, to which all you did was laugh. you “accidentally” confessed that you thought he was cute, too. he remembers how the air in the room shifted, how your eyes glanced to his lips, moving to slide the glasses off his face. you pulled yourself into his lap, his fingers twitching at his side.

he suddenly hears doyoung calling out to him, followed by doyoung’s hand shoved in his face, snapping to get his attention. haechan blushes, realizing that he got too caught up in his thoughts, thoughts of you sitting so prettily on top of him. he quickly looks up to find an unimpressed look on doyoung’s face, “i called you here to study, not to daydream.”

“i, uh, i’m sorry,” haechan says, batting his eyelashes, “just remembered how boring you are.”

doyoung, already used to haechan’s teasing, can only huff in response, “you do realize that we’re studying for a midterm. a midterm. this is serious.”

“if you’re still sad about your breakup, feel free to talk to me anytime. now i’m the relationship expert!” haechan smirks, clearly showing off.

“how did you even get with someone like your girlfriend? does she like nerds like you or something?”

“hey! i have appeal, i’m not just some random nerd!”

“yeah, well i just know you’re into some weird stuff,” doyoung says, finally closing his laptop, “you’d probably like it if she pushed you around.”

haechan shifts in his seat, trying to ignore the image of you on top of him forming in his head. “w-whatever!” haechan splutters, “at least i have a girlfriend and i’m probably still going to do better on this exam than you will!”

doyoung has to stop himself from laughing out loud at haechan’s offhanded admission of being pushed around in bed. doyoung clears his throat before speaking, “well who’s the one who’s been studying and who’s the one who’s been getting fucked by their girlfriend?”

“i’m smarter, anyway! you’re acting like you wouldn’t beg to fuck my girlfriend, either!”

doyoung looks at haechan in shock, quickly trying to form a coherent sentence to get back at haechan, “we both know that i could fuck her better, don’t lie.”

a pout quickly forms on haechan’s face, “don’t think about fucking my girlfriend!”

“you literally just said that i would beg to have sex with her,” doyoung falters, “you know what, i don’t want to talk about this in a public library.”

haechan is silent as doyoung slips his laptop into his backpack. doyoung sees haechan bite the inside of his cheek in thought, probably thinking of a nice apology for his friend. once he’s packed everything away, he realizes that haechan is staring at him, his hands pressed onto the table.

“if you score higher than me on this test, i’ll let you fuck my girlfriend.”

okay, so maybe not a nice apology.

doyoung doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t know how to react, and he doesn’t even know how he’s still making eye contact with haechan. his mouth opens and shuts, haechan still staring at him. doyoung manages to speak, “what… what?”

haechan doesn’t flinch at doyoung’s shock, “i said, if you do better than me on the midterm, i will let you have sex with my girlfriend.”

doyoung’s face is pulled into a frown when he realizes what haechan says this time. he has to stop himself from yelling into haechan’s face, “literally where did that come from?”

haechan just shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his finger, “i just know i’ll do better than you on the exam, and i kinda just want to show off.”

“in what world do you have to make a bet like that just to say you’re better than me? just, i don’t know, say you’ll do good?”

“but where’s the fun in that? and plus, it’s not like i’ll lose.”

“and if i win?” doyoung challenges.

haechan whines and shoves doyoung’s shoulder, “you won’t.”

doyoung sighs, suddenly too tired and wanting to go home. haechan exhausts him, and tonight proves that. haechan just laughs and shoves his stuff into his backpack, standing up and looking down at doyoung. doyoung glares at him, standing up just to intimidate him a little. “lets just go already, you’re stressing me out.”

haechan just smiles and laughs, ushering doyoung out of the library. doyoung walks with haechan to the bus stop, to where haechan will eventually go to your place to be with you. doyoung isn’t jealous, but he does miss being around someone that he likes. maybe he’ll try studying on his own for this exam.

doyoung eyes haechan while walking with him, acting as if nothing even happened. he’s harping about some random game event, almost too casually. doyoung tries not to think about you, but he can’t help but think you are pretty. he’s seen you around campus, he’s seen you more with haechan. he can’t help but stare sometimes.

it doesn’t help that doyoung did go through a breakup, his ex saying that they should both move on. doyoung bites down on his lip, trying not to think too much about it. he should focus on his grades, focus on his studying, focus on this bet. the worst that could happen is losing. the best thing that could happen is the possibility of good sex.

while they’re both waiting for haechan’s bus, doyoung raises the question, “is your girlfriend even okay with this?”

“well, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, so… i’m not sure yet,” haechan laughs into the quiet air.

once again, doyoung is rendered speechless by haechan, “how do you even know that she’ll agree to this?”

haechan spots his bus rolling down the street, “she’ll say yes. and like i said, you’re definitely not winning.”

doyoung shoves haechan, sending him off to his bus as haechan laughs loudly. before haechan boards, he turns to look at doyoung dead in the eye, “i’ll see you on exam day. good night.”

doyoung nods, bidding him farewell. he goes his own way, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he’s lost in thought. he will do better than haechan.

haechan finally makes it to your apartment. the bus ride felt too long, and it feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. you’ve both been busy with your own exams. haechan used to not mind exam weeks, but now that he has you, it pains him to be away from you for so long.

he had tried studying with you, but it always ended up with haechan being too needy to focus. he can’t study by himself either, always disrupted by the thought of you fucking him. he’d send you a quick text, and you always agree to let him come over. it eventually turned into you scolding him, telling him he needs to find someone to study with him.

of course, it had to be doyoung.

he texts you that he’s at your place, making his way to your apartment door. he knocks, waits a bit, and is then greeted by the sight of you. you look tired, but he can’t help but still find you pretty given the circumstances. you smile at him, pulling him into a quick kiss, grabbing his hand to bring him inside.

he’s brought to your bedroom, watches as you plop yourself into bed. you turn to him, cocking your head to the side as you ask, “how was it with doyoung?”

he opens the separate drawer you made for his stuff at your apartment, pulling out some house clothes so he can lay down with you. he pulls off his shirt, hears how you whistle at him, and he immediately gets shy. he shushes you, “it went fine, we studied for most of it, and then we just kept on talking at the end.”

“that’s good,” you hum, watching him shimmy out of his pants with a smile on your face, “what did you guys talk about?”

he crawls into bed with you, caging you in his arms, legs intertwined with yours. after officially dating haechan, you realized how touchy he is. it’s cute considering how he’s still shy, not seemingly thinking too hard about the skinship he offers you. he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, “he was just telling me about his ex, everything that happened.”

you, not one to miss out on gossip, gasp as you pull yourself away to look at him properly. “please tell me you’re gonna talk about his drama. please.”

he laughs a little, moves to lean on his shoulder as he begins, “it’s been maybe, four months since he’s gotten broken up with?” he then leans in to whisper in your ear as if there’s other people around you, “but do you know what?”

you lean into him, whispering back, “what is it?”

“he still goes to see his ex. i don’t know if they’re still friends or they’re just…” he clears his throat, “having sex, but they still meet up.”

you gasp, eyes widening as you laugh at his words. doyoung doesn’t really seem like the type to do that, so knowing he might be just that desperate makes you giddy. “poor doyoung,” you start, threading your fingers into haechan’s hair, “i hope things get better for him.”

he’s not exactly listening, the feelings of your fingers in his hair making his eyes flutter shut, a natural pout forming on his face. you kiss him, and before haechan can pull you any closer, you pull away. you look at him expectantly, waiting for a response as he tries to remember what you said.

“um, speaking of which, there was something else we talked about.”

you curl into his side, eyes closing as you hum in response. he shifts a little, an arm wrapping around your waist. you’re waiting for him to talk, but you get no response. you call out his name, and he grips onto you. “is there something wrong?” you ask, a little worried.

“no, well, me and him have an exam coming up, and we kinda… made a bet on it.”

“yeah, what about?”

“so, i kinda said, if scores better than me, i’d let him…” his words trail off, mumbled out into your room. you move away from him to try to see what exactly has gotten into him. you’re surprised when you see his cheeks flushed red, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he looks away from you. you raise your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

he takes a deep breath before he lets out his words all in one go, “i said if he scored better than me i’d let him have sex with you.”

you blink at him. once. twice. you can’t really say you don’t expect this coming from him but… still. rather than the actual bet, it dawns on you that he might talk about you more than you expect. you wonder if he talks about your sex life. you wonder if he says that he takes control in the bedroom.

“how… how did you even come up with that?”

haechan dryly laughs, “doyoung said the exact same thing. i just felt bad for him? and he kept on complaining how i wasn’t studying, but i’ve been busy!”

“and what made you think i would say yes?” you laugh at his outburst, and haechan relaxes a little at your comfort.

he continues, “i wouldn’t have made the bet if i knew i wasn’t gonna do better than him! i know i’m better, this bet is just gonna prove that.”

a small smirk appears on your face, “i like seeing you all confident like this,” you roll him onto his back, moving on top of him. his hair is splayed behind him, his glasses crooked on his face. “of course my baby is smart,” your lips are dangerously close to his, “are you gonna show me how smart you are?”

he nods, eyes losing focus at your proximity. you lean in to kiss him, his hands grabbing your ass, groping at the flesh. you can feel his dick twitch against your thigh, you can feel how fast he runs out of breath. you realize it’s been awhile since you’ve seen each other, and his desperate movements prove that.

you’re no different either, you can feel how wet your panties are as you grind against him. his hands push you against him, making you grind down onto his cock as he whines into your mouth. your hands make their way to his hair, slightly tugging at the strands as he bucks his hips into yours.

the room is filled with the sound of your lips against his, his loud whimpers, and your soft breaths. moans of your name are ushered out when he gets close, his hands touching every part of you that he can reach. “needed this so bad,” he whines, “been needing you since i’ve been at the library…”

“yeah? thinking gross thoughts in public, in front of your friend?” he frantically nods, arms wrapping around you to pull you close. he can feel the heat on his face, so sure his glasses are embarrassingly fogged up, begging you to continue.

your lips move to his neck, feeling your warm breath on his skin as you speak, “probably why you made the bet, right? you were thinking about me too much, hm?”

your words trigger his orgasm, cum spurting into his boxers as he lets out a whimper of your name. at the sight of your boyfriend falling apart under you, looking fucked out from just some humping and kisses, you cum. haechan moves your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm as he fights off getting hard again.

it’s quiet in the room again, save for the heavy breaths you both let out. haechan’s hand soothingly traces patterns on your exposed skin. your head lays on his chest, nuzzling close to him.

a few moments pass before you whisper out, “i’ll do the bet.”

he opens his eyes to look at you, “really? you don’t have to, i’ll tell doyoung that-”

“no, it’s okay, baby. i know you’ll do good. after all, you’re my little nerd, right?”

haechan doesn’t argue when you call him your nerd.

a few days pass without interruption.

doyoung doesn’t try calling haechan to study, and haechan blasts music in his ears to avoid any thoughts of you crawling into his mind (not that he would mind, but the bet is putting everything on the line). at any chance, haechan goes to see you, seeking praise for being such a good student. he blushes when you do, pulling you into a kiss.

haechan doesn’t try too hard at studying, considering that it was half of his argument saying he didn’t need to study to be good. he’s making sure it won’t backfire on him, glossing over terms and dates as he studies. he tries once more to study with you in a call and repeat way. it’s ruined when you call him a good boy, haechan not being able to stop his cock from twitching.

it’s the day before the exam, and haechan texts doyoung to see if he’d like to meet up.

doyoung: i don’t think you distracting me is going to help

haechan: why are u trying so hard to fuck my girlfriend

doyoung: ?

haechan gives up on him.

there’s no study guide for him to go over, all he can do is go over his notes once more. he considers calling you, but you're either busy, or he’ll just end up getting distracted. he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing with the amount of time he spends with you. he likes it, likes you, he’d rather you take up all his time than him being holed up in his dorm.

he spends the rest of his afternoon at the library, multiple tabs open on his laptop for different classes. he almost forgot about the other exams he has to take, too caught up in his one shared class with doyoung. this bet, he thinks, could be the best decision of his life.

haechan, fully confident that he will win, thinks about what he can do. he’s obviously going to ask if he can have sex with you, but he might have to beg to be more in control. he might send doyoung a quick picture of you under him, crying out for him to fuck you. he doesn’t want to show you off or anything, but he does want to gloat. just a little.

he’s happy that you agreed to do the bet in the first place. you’ve always indulged in his little fantasies, and this is another one added to the list. it makes haechan’s heart beat faster knowing he’s the only one that can make you feel good. it doesn’t matter if he’s not in control, doesn’t matter if he’s the one begging, you’re the one calling his name every night.

which is why he made the bet in the first place. doyoung can complain all he wants, can think about you at any time, but you’re his. haechan tries not to be too possessive of you, but it’s hard not to when he’s so obsessed with you. he was made for you, made to be your boyfriend.

his thoughts are interrupted by a text from you, asking where he is. a small smile forms on his face, fingers tapping against the screen to let you know what he’s doing.

you: if ur not busyyy, then u can come over if u want

haechie: literally just yelled yipee in the library

haechie: packing up my stuff as we speak

you: ur so silly

you: see u soon baby

haechan tries to fight the blush from forming on his face, hastily pushing up his glasses as he rushes out of the library. even if there might be a bet going on, he’d much rather be with you, keeping you close as you press kisses to his skin.

you wait for haechan to text you that he’s outside. you haven’t really done anything today, except for study and taking multiple naps. exam season has always been hard for you, taking up so much of your time when you could be spending it with your boyfriend.

you find it funny how easy it is for him. he always looked like he knew what he was doing, and it was only confirmed once you worked on a project with him. you remember him shyly saying that he’d tell you all his studying secrets, trying to ignore how your eyes focus on his fingers writing something down.

his advice did help, but you still struggle like every person. haechan is just too smart for his own good. it only makes you prouder as his girlfriend.

you get a text saying that he’s at your place, and a knock is followed soon after. you trot to the door, opening it up to see his bright smile. he whines out before he wraps his arms around you, his head falling onto your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. you laugh at him, reciprocating his hug as he buries his face into you.

“you don’t know how much i missed you, it’s been forever.”

“you always say that. come on you big baby, let’s go lay down.”

he follows you into your room, his hand intertwined with yours. he can’t stand not being able to touch you when you’re so close.

when he sees you lay down, looking so comfortable, he practically rips his outside clothes to the clothes he has with you. he quickly scrambles to your bed, joining you in the comfort of your bed. he presses you against himself, silently begging for you to spoon him. you sigh out a laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

you can feel him relax at your touch, shoulders untensing, eyes shutting in the quiet of your room. one of your hands move to his hair, messing with the overgrown strands at the nape of his neck. he shudders slightly, pressing his face in the pillow as he gets more comfortable.

“how was today, baby?”

he mumbles out, “was fine… all i did was study.”

“me too, i think my professors must hate me or something.”

he lets out an airy laugh, grabbing the hand that’s not in his hair to press a kiss onto it. you press a kiss to the top of his head in return, hearing the satisfied hum he lets out at the feeling. if you could, you would want to stay like this forever, him in your arms. you just wish you both weren’t so busy.

“what are you gonna do tomorrow?” you ask.

“i have that exam with doyoung,” he groans, “i’m not worried, but i just need to get it over with already.”

“i know you’ll do good,” you say, watching a pink blush begin to form on his cheeks, “my baby always does so good.”

“thank you…” he whispers, embarrassment in his voice.

“don’t worry about the bet. in the end, it’s up to us, hm? even if doyoung wins-”

haechan cuts you off, “hey! he won’t!”

you laugh out, “i know he won’t, but on the small chance he might, you’ll show him how good you treat me, right?”

you can feel him squirm against you, trying not to let your words get to his head, “y-yeah, he needs to know how good i make you feel.”

“exactly,” you say as you press a kiss to his neck, feeling goosebumps form from your touch, “that’s what’s gonna make you do so good tomorrow.”

he nods, turning himself over to face you. his hands grip at your hips, eyes shining in the darkness of your room. he licks his lips, pulling you close to him as he kisses you. he moans into you, trying hard not to grind into your thigh.

it’s when you can feel him press his hard cock onto you that you pull away, smiling at the desperate look on his face. you shush him before he can whine, tucking yourself under the covers as haechan tries to form a coherent sentence.

“you have an exam tomorrow, you need to sleep early, baby.”

“but i-” he interjects, his eyes looking down at his cock that presses against his shorts, “you- can’t you help me?”

“nope! my baby needs all the rest he can get,” you smile, patting the space besides you, “now come lay down with me.”

he lets out a small groan, ignoring his twitching cock as he lays next to you.

“and no getting yourself off without me,” you assert.

haechan can only let out a whine.

it’s finally exam day.

after waking up, haechan finds you wrapped around him, cuddling up at his side. he stares at you sleeping (in the most non-creepy way, he swears), a smile on his face as he watches you sleep so peacefully. he likes having quiet mornings like this with you, wishes he could stay in bed with you all day.

except, your alarm for eight am rings, immediately waking you up.

haechan watches you groggily reach for your phone, shutting off the alarm, slamming it against the sheets when you do. he laughs at you, pull you in closer, kissing the top of your head as you snuggle yourself in his chest. he’s warm, almost making you doze back to sleep.

the sound of his voice wakes you up again, “do you think i should just skip my midterm?”

his voice is soft, yet serious as he contemplates sacrificing his grade if it means to get to stay in with you. your voice comes out muffled in his chest, “hm, you know i can’t let you do that, baby…”

he lets out a chuckle, the sound soothing you. “if i don’t get up now, i don’t think i’ll be able to move from here.”

you try to untangle yourself from his hold, but he’s the one who’s keeping you in place. you let out a whine of his name while he watches you with a smile. he eventually lets you go, making himself sit up alongside you. he reaches for your hand before speaking, “i wish i didn’t have to go.”

“i know, baby, but you have to take this test. you have to show everyone how good you are.”

he tries not to smile too hard at your words, choosing to slide out of your bed to stretch. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes stare at his exposed stomach from his shirt lifting. if he had the time, he’d ask for at least a makeout session, but even that might turn into something too much. he quickly changes into whatever clothes he can find, ridding the thought from his mind.

“anyways, you have a bet to do, right?” you remind him, “you’re going to show doyoung how smart my boyfriend is, hm?”

“of course,” he hums, “gonna show him what he’s missing out on.” he finishes his sentence with a soft kiss on your lips. it’s always nice like this, having him so close, no shyness detected when loving you. he chases your lips when you pull away, his pretty eyes looking to yours as you walk him out.

your both at your door, hands intertwined when you say to him, “i know you’re going to do great. don’t worry about anything, i’m right here.”

his eyes shine at your words, a faint blush on his cheeks as he turns to walk away from you. before he can fully step out, you softly call out his name. his head snaps towards you, expectant eyes waiting for you.

“one more thing,” you step out towards him. you place a quick kiss onto his lips, his hands twitching in surprise. “just a good luck kiss. if you do good, i’ll give you even more than that.”

he nods, forcing himself to walk away from your door. his hands are in fists at his sides, nails digging into his skin.

he can’t wait to see you again.

he makes it onto campus, calming himself down on the walk to his classroom. he hasn’t seen doyoung anywhere, not that he was thinking he would. it’s quiet on campus, everyone either taking an exam or stuck at the library studying.

he takes a deep breath as he enters the building, watching as other students enter his classroom. still no sight of doyoung as haechan heads towards class. he’s quick to open the door, scanning the room for his seat. he’s happy to see that no one’s taken his usual spot near the front of the class.

he does see doyoung in his spot next to him, scrolling through his phone as he waits for the exam to start. he easily slides in next to him, startling doyoung from his scrolling. he glares at haechan, haechan ignoring him as he clears his throat, “you’re here early.”

“i’m always early though?”

“feels like you might be excited about something.”

“like finishing this exam, yes.”

“or maybe the bet?”

doyoung scoffs, and as soon as he does, his professor begins to explain the rules. haechan drone out the words, shoving his phone away and taking out a pencil. it shouldn’t be hard, it should be easy for someone like him. what’s distracting is knowing that doyoung is thinking the exact same thing, the same goal in his mind.

having sex with you.

haechan won’t let it happen, though. before the professor starts handing out the exam, haechan turns towards doyoung. haechan extends a hand out to him, doyoung hesitantly shaking it back. haechan grins, “may the best student win.”

it’s been a few days since he’s taken the exam. he remembers feeling confident during the exam, remembers walking out of the class with a proud smile on his face. he remembers texting you right after, asking if you’d like to go out and eat anywhere. he remembers telling you how good the exam went over food, a proud smile on your face as you listen to him.

he only remembers being confident that day.

he’s only talked- texted doyoung once after the exam, only after their professor said when the grades will be released. it was a quick chat of haechan gloating while doyoung glosses over it. he doesn’t need to talk to doyoung too much anyway, knowing he’s just as busy as haechan is.

today, he’s at your apartment again, lounging around as he waits for his grade. you’re seated with him on your couch, legs on top of his as you mindlessly scroll through your phone. you’re done with your exams, he’s done with his. it went as good as it could’ve gone, and he’s happy with this exam week.

the cherry on top would be winning the bet, and even after the test, he’s sure that he’s won. he can’t help how his leg shakes under you in excitement, not really reading what’s on his phone as he thinks about what he wants to do. he bites his lip, trying to drown out his thoughts.

after what feels like forever (read: 30 minutes after), he gets an email from his professor saying that grades have now been posted and uploaded. he scrambles to his feet, scaring you in the process as your legs are thrown off the couch. he quickly apologies, his fingers tapping against his screen to check his gradebook. there it is.

he got a 95 on his midterm.

he turns to look at you, immediately squealing as he throws himself onto you. you laugh as you wrap your arms around him, his face nuzzling into your chest as he lets out high-pitched noises. you shake him a little, asking what he got on his exam.

he grabs you by the shoulders, pressing you into the couch as he looks down at you, “i got a 95.”

a smile forms on your face before you pull him down to kiss you. he’s smiling against your lips, a hand on your cheek as he kisses you. you can feel how happy he is, satisfied hums as he kisses you. your hands are around his neck, keeping him close to you. one of his thigh slips between yours, a hand resting on your hip as he continues.

he can feel you grind down onto his thigh, small whimpers coming out of your mouth as you do. his cock twitches at the feeling, adrenaline rushing through his body. you eventually pull away from him, catching your breath before you speak, “i am so proud of you. you worked so hard, i’m glad it all paid off.”

his eyes flutter shut when you palm over his bulge, “don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

he quickly nods, moaning out a yes as he moves to kiss you again. you’re both desperate, hands moving all over each other, feeling needy from how long it’s been since you had sex. you can feel his cock press into you, your hips rolling to meet his. his warm hands reach under your shirt, squeezing your hip when you moan out his name.

it’s not until he feels a buzz from his phone, followed by another as his mind clears. “h-hold on,” he says between kisses, “what if it’s doyoung?”

your head falls back, your hooded eyes peering up at him, “you’re gonna check your phone now, just to see if it’s doyoung?”

“i know, sorry. just really quick, i swear.” his phone turns on, a satisfied grin on his face as he sees the texts are from doyoung. doyoung’s asking what he got on his exam, and haechan quickly texts him his answer. haechan’s about to put his phone down to get back to you, but before he can, doyoung texts him back.

doyoung: that’s funny

doyoung: i got a 96

he sends a picture as proof, and haechan falls back on his heels. you watch as he stares at his phone in shock. he doesn’t move, and you softly call his name to get his attention. “what’s wrong?” you start, “what happened? is it doyoung?”

he slowly shows you his phone, watching as you quickly read the texts on his screen. your face falls in shock. you’re both sitting there in silence, shock painted across your faces. his phone eventually falls onto the couch, trying to think of what to say.

you choose to speak first, “well, i mean… you still did well on the test.”

“but he did better! by one point!”

your hand moves to soothingly pat his head, “we’re just gonna have to see what happens. he did say yes to the bet, right?”

haechan pouts, his head nuzzles against your hand, “yeah…”

“this could be fun for both of us. i get to show off how much of a good boy you are.”

he pouts even harder, “wanted to show him that i fuck you good.”

you laugh, “well, that wouldn’t be true, would it? i’ll make sure to show him how good i can fuck you.”

a/n: I AM SO HAPPY TO BE POSTING THIS WITH WINNIE!!! finally one of our ideas coming out of the drafts... i can't wait for their part to come out... its gonna be crazy... a threesome perhaps (in a way... u will just have to wait and see...)

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #haechan smut #haechan fic #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 months

Text

Come See About Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: Tom realizes he got you all wrong and slowly falls as he learns more about you during the press tour

Masterlist

“Oh shoot. I’m press with Y/n all week.” Tom said as he read an email from his team.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked him.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t really know her that well. She was super reserved on set for the few days I shot with her. I wonder why they paired me with her.”

“Well, you’re the same age, right? The movie team probably just want to start romance rumors for publicity.”

“I don’t think that will happen. I barely got to know her during filming. I doubt anyone will see chemistry between us.” Tom replied. He started pacing around his hotel room and felt uncharacteristically nervous for the day ahead.

“Well for your sake, let’s hope you don’t see chemistry between you either.” Harry snorted.

“How do you mean?” Tom frowned.

“You know how messy relationships in the public eye can be. Just don’t go falling in love with this girl, okay? I do not want to watch you pine after your dark and mysterious costar.” Harry warned him.

“Psh. I won’t fall in love with her. That would never happen.” Tom scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone. He ended up on Instagram and saw that you had recently posted a photo. It was just a simple selfie in your hotel room which was probably just a few doors down from Tom’s. He found himself smiling and gave the photo a like. He may not have gotten to know you on set, but there’s no reason he couldn’t get to know you now.

“But if I did, why would that be bad?” Tom asked as he deep stalked your Instagram.

“The way I see it, there are two outcomes if you choose to pursue her. Option one is you get swept up in the excitement of promoting the movie and start reading into every little interaction between the two of you because that’s what the public is doing. So you convince yourself you’re in love with her and maybe she’ll even convince herself of the same thing. But once the press tour is over and you get to be with each other without any reason or purpose, you realize you never actually liked each other. And that’ll just end up breaking both your hearts. Even worse if only one of you realizes you never actually liked the other. God. That would be a nightmare.” Harry shivered.

“Okay.” Tom said slowly. “That was oddly specific. So what’s the other outcome?”

“You fall in love with her on this press tour and then it ends before you get a chance to tell her. So she flies off to film another movie and you’re stuck kicking yourself for not being honest with her sooner. And I’m stuck watching you whine about it.” Harry said simply.

“Or, hear me out, secret third option.” Tom proposed. “I fall for her and she falls for me and we have a great relationship. And maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn’t. But at least we gave it a shot. That could happen, right?”

“Maybe. But either way, she’s getting on a plane at the end of this press tour. And you can’t fall in love with someone who’s worlds away. Remember that.” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with her.” Tom insisted.

“Promise?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Promise.” Tom said weakly. He looked at your picture one more time before shutting his phone off.

The next morning, Tom got into a black van that was going to take the cast to the building where the interviews were taking place. You got into the car shortly after with a huge smile on your face that Tom had never seen before. You were in a nice dress and full glam already, unintentionally earning yourself Tom’s full attention.

“Good morning.” You said enthusiastically as you sat in the seat beside him. He was slightly taken aback by how friendly you were being since he had only ever seen you being quiet and reserved.

“Oh, hello.” He smiled in surprise. “Good morning to you too, darling. How are you doing?”

“I’m really excited for today.” You admitted. “I haven’t done a big press tour like this before. I know they can be a little boring and repetitive but I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. These tours are pretty crazy. You get to see a lot of amazing places which is really cool. But you also get to answer the same question 100 times a day for a month straight. You’ll learn the highs and the lows pretty soon.”

“I’m ready for it all. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate any tips I can get.” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. You’ll get used to waking up at the crack of dawn and having a bunch of people you’ve never met poke you with makeup and hair stuff.”

“When?” You asked through a yawn. “Because I have a full face of makeup on before my brain is fully awake and it feels so very, very wrong.”

“Not soon enough.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to stay half asleep while the nice ladies apply my concealer.”

“Oh, so this complexion isn’t natural?” You teased and pointed to his face.

“Nope. You’re not the only one in full glam right now, darling.” He humored you, making you laugh.

“Careful. You don’t know if you can’t trust me yet. I might sell that piece of bad boy information to a news site and get you exposed.” You warned. It was Tom’s turn to laugh and he felt amazed that he had never seen this side of your personality before.

“I hope you don’t. I was just about to say that I’m glad I can share your first big press tour with you but now I feel we may have begun an enemies arch.”

“No. We can’t be enemies.” You whined playfully. “Because I was gonna say that I’m glad you’re here too. You always seem so relaxed and funny in interviews. I’m really hoping I don’t come off as nervous as I feel today.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. It’ll feel just like a conversation.” He assured you. He was pleased to know you were a watcher of his interviews and wondered what else he’d uncover about you that day.

“Thank. I really appreciate you helping me with all this.”You said sincerely.

“It’s no trouble. If you have any other questions, just ask. I’ll help wherever I can.” He told you.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and suddenly remembered what Harry had said the night before about not falling in love with you. Tom was just one conversation in and already struggling to keep his promise.

Once the van arrived at the building, you and Tom had makeup touch ups and were then sent into the junket room.

“Wow. I haven’t seen the poster yet.” You gasped and touched the poster with gentle fingertips. Tom watched you admiring it and smiled when he saw how proud you looked.

“You look good up there. I hope to see you on more posters.” He said and nudged you slightly.

“Like in Playboy?” You asked and looked insulted.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No, no, no. I didn’t-“

“I’m just messing with you.” You cut him off and nudged him back. He felt his hearts too racing and cracked a smile.

“You really had me for a second there, darling. I didn’t realize you had such a sense of humor. I guess I never heard you say much on set.”

“Thats because I found it hard to shake my character after filming all day. I guess I’m not used to separating that yet. I loved my character and all but I’m so glad to be done shooting her. She’s so dark and dramatic. It really affected my mood on set.” You told him as you both sat down in your chairs.

“Oh, wow. So you’re not quiet? You were just in character?”

“Quiet? I’ve never been described as quiet.” You laughed. “I was just in my emo phase on set because the material I was shooting was so dark. It bummed me out all day.”

“But you’re not bummed out today?” He asked with a coy smile.

“Fuck no. I’m ready to party.” You whispered to him just as the journalist came in. He burst out laughing at the unexpected expletive and earned himself a look from the journalist.

“Well alright then.” He chuckled.

That was the first of many times you made Tom laugh that day. The more interviews you did together, the more he learned about you and your personality. He paid attention to every anecdote and personal story you shared and was more and more fascinated each time.

When it came time for day two of the press tour, he could not wait to get back in there with you. The interviews were in the hotel that day and Tom got to the junket room first. When you got there, you handed him a hot cup of tea.

“For you.” You smiled and sat beside him. Tom looked at you curiously and you gestured for him to sip it. He took a sip and widened his eyes when he tasted it.

“This is exactly how I take my tea.” He said incredulous.

“I know. I was listening when you ordered at breakfast yesterday.” You said proudly.

“Thank you, darling. I really appreciate that.” He smiled fondly at you before taking another sip.

“Well I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday.” You smiled shyly. “I was really nervous yesterday until we talked in the car. You made my first press day really memorable. So I did the normal courtesy of eavesdropping on you and brought you your favorite tea.”

“That was very kind of you. And you made my day yesterday a lot better than I was expecting so I should be thanking you too.”

“Then I’ll loudly tell someone else my favorite way to drink tea so that you can eavesdrop and surprise me.” You joked as the journalist walked in.

“How are you guys doing today?” The journalist asked to start the interview.

“I’m doing really well now that Y/n brought me tea.” Tom answered and took another sip.

“I’m also doing really well but because Tom didn’t bring me tea.” You said and looked at Tom to see if he found it funny.

“Why would that make you happy?” He laughed.

“Because I hate tea.” You shrugged.

“What? Don’t you know that is the worst thing you can say to an English person? And you just told me you had a favorite tea.”

“That was a joke. I actually hate tea.” You admitted.

“How can anyone hate tea?” Tom asked in exasperation.

“It’s just like hot, flavored water. I don’t understand what’s good about it. I hate soup too.“

“Soup too?” Tom gasped and pretended to clutch his petals.

“I think soup is so nasty. Why would I ever want to eat hot blended food?”

“If you hate soup and you hate tea, then what do you do when you’re sick?”

“I watch Fantastic Mr. Fox under my covers like a normal person.” You answered, making him laugh.

“This is very disturbing information to learn so early in the morning. You’ve surprised me, darling.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You shrugged with a laugh.

The next day, Tom was pleased to see you already waiting in your chair for the interview to start. You were texting on your phone but looked up when he came into the room. Your makeup artists was touching up your lipstick so you couldn’t smile at him and opted for a wink. He found himself blushing at the wink and sat beside you.

“Morning, darling.”

“Good morning. No tea today?” You teased.

“I’ve already had my tea, for your information. I chugged it while I got my makeup done.”

You laughed but he wasn’t actually kidding about getting his makeup done. He was just happy that it made you laugh. Your makeup artists finished up and you checked your makeup in your phone camera.

“You look pretty.” Tom said before he could stop himself. You looked over at him in surprise before smiling.

“Why, thanks. So do you.” You said and shot him another wink. He blushed and looked down at his lap at the compliment.

“God, I’m gonna be thinking about lunch this entire interview.” You whispered to him.

“You didn’t eat at the craft service table?”

“I can’t eat that early in the morning.” You waved your hand. “It makes me nauseous. Now I’m wishing I did though. My kingdom for a cheese stick.”

“I hate cheese.” Tom grimaced.

“What? Even in stick form?” You asked him.

“Even in stick form.” He humored you. “And you can’t judge me because you hate the two most comforting foods on earth.”

“I’m judging you so hard right now.” You mumbled. Tom laughed as an idea came to him.

Before your next interview, Tom made a quick stop at the bakery across the street. You were already in the room waiting to start by the time he got back. He quickly fixed his hair before holding out a little brown paper bag.

“For you.” He said with a bashful smile.

“What is this?” You asked as you took the bag.

“Open it.” He said as he sat beside you. You gave him a curious look before opening the bag.

“Scone?” You gasped and looked up at him.

“Scone!” He smiled proudly.

“You got me a scone? Why?” You wondered and took the stone out of the bag.

“Because it was easier to find than a cheese stick.” He chuckled.

“I love you.” You cupped his chin before taking a bite of the scone. Tom froze and felt his face turn bright red at your words. You realized he had gone quiet and looked over at him.

“Sorry. Was it too soon to say that?” You asked with a mouthful of scone.

“I think so. Aren’t you supposed to wait three months?” He chuckled and touched a cold hand to his burning face.

“Too bad. The introduction of the scone sped up our relationship and now we’re in love.” You shrugged and took another bite. Tom laughed again and looked down at his laugh.

“So, uh, speaking of our relationship. Have you seen the way fans have been shipping us since our last few interviews hit the Internet? How weird is that?” He said and forced a laugh. He didn’t actually find it weird, he just wanted it see how you felt about the possibility of a relationship.

“I was actually deep into the fan edits last night to be perfectly honest with you.” You said through a laugh.

“Were you?” He asked in surprise.

“I was. And I heard that we’ve been secretly dating since May. Did you know that?”

“I did. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He played along.

“That’s okay. I can’t be mad at you since you blessed me with a scone.”

The journalist came in once you had finished your scone and the interview began. Tom was barely paying attention to the questions and only focused on hearing your answers. He loved that he wasn’t getting to learn new things about you that he was too shy to ask.

“Unpopular opinion?” The journalist asked.

“A lot of people think cats are girls and dogs are boys but the real take here is that all seagulls are boys.”

“Woah, what? What makes all seagulls boys?” Tom asked you.

“A girl would never act like that.” You said simply, making Tom laugh.

“My unpopular opinion is that Y/n’s best movie is Look Mom, No Hands.” Tom said, making you burst out laughing.

“I know you did not just bring up my Disney Chanel original movie from when I was 11.”

“Yes I did. Because I watched it last night and I cried when you made the winning goal even after your glasses broke from the soccer ball hitting you in the face.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “The drama.”

“It was! The opposing team totally kicked it into your face on purpose because they knew you were the underdog. But nevertheless, she persisted. You made the winning goal and your team won the championship.”

“Wow. Way to spoil my movie from 15 years ago. And why were you even watching that?”

“Because I needed to know who I was working with everyday. It’s a part of your lore. Now that I know you’ve starred in a DCOM, I know I can trust you.”

“I was not the star. Bridget Mendler was the star. I was just the quirky best friend.” You reminded him, making Tom laugh.

“Well you were the only one I was looking at, okay darling? You were the star for me.” He said as he looked over at you. You smiled at his answer and nodded your head.

“Good answer. Favorite snack?” The journalist asked.

“Oh no. You’re gonna think I’m weird.” You smiled sheepishly.

“What? I could never, darling. What is it?” Tom asked and turned in his chair to face you.

“I put mustard on popcorn.” You grimaced.

“What the hell?” Tom’s nose scrunched in disgust.

“See! I knew you’d think I was a little freak.”

“Mustard? On popcorn? Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re thinking it’s worse than it is. Yellow mustard on lightly salted popcorn is really good, okay? Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it for me. Because I cannot imagine it’s good.” Tom shook his head.

“If I can get my hands on some mustard during this press tour, I will be at your door in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a date.”Tom replied, making you smile.

“It better be.” You answered, and he returned the smile.

Tom was fully in it now. Every second that he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. You started spending your evenings together and grabbed dinner every night after your interviews. He was falling fast and getting worse and worse at hiding it. He posted a photo of the two of you that the paparazzi had taken while you were out to dinner and captioned it “I’d wait out in the cold all night just to take pictures of her too”. He tagged you and it wasn’t long before you were in his comments saying “he’s so obsessed with me it’s honestly embarrassing”. He smiled at the comment and wrote back “yes, and?” before going to bed.

The press tour was coming to an end and on the last day, Tom walked into the junket room to find only one chair in the room.

“Oh. No Y/n?” Tom asked his manager.

“Nope. Solo interviews today.” They replied. Tom faked a smile and sat in his chair. He hoped his disappointment wasn’t as obvious as it felt as he gave the interview alone. He did a few more solo interviews throughout the day and eventually got to his last one. It wasn’t long before the door opened up and you walked into the room with Tom’s water bottle.

“Hi. I’m crashing. Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly and walked into the room.

“That’s quite all right. Do you want a chair?” The journalist asked you.

“I’m good.” You smiled politely and sat on Tom’s knee. He immediately blushed and looked up at you.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Tom grinned.

“I finished early so I brought you juice.” You said and handed him the water bottle.

“What? No way.” He smiled in appreciation and opened up the water bottle to see apple juice inside.

“Juice!” You cheered.

“Juice!” He echoed. “Thank you, darling. What a nice surprise.”

“Well I had to get you back for the scone.“ You told him.

“So Tom, I have to ask about your Instagram post from yesterday. You tagged Y/n in an interesting place, Tom. Care to comment on that?” The journalist asked now that you had joined the interview.

“He tagged me there because it’s where you can usually find me.” You chuckled.

“Wait, I’m lost? Where did I tag her?” Tom asked. You and the journalist exchanged a look before you pulled out your phone to show Tom his own post from the night before. He had accidentally tagged you right on his crotch, making him turn red when he saw his mistake. And when he pieced together what you meant by what you had just said, he turned even redder.

“Oh my God. I swear, I’m just Instagram stupid. I didn’t mean to tag her there.” Tom explained.

“Yes he did. He tagged me in my location. Because that’s where I am.” You kept up the joke just to tease him.

“Where?” The journalist laughed.

“On Tom’s dick.” You shrugged. Tom covered his red face with his hands as you and the journalist laughed.

“People know that about me. If they can’t find me, they don’t ask “hey where’s Y/n?” because they already know where I am. It’s my happy place. My sanctuary. My home away from home.” You continued.

“No. No more. My mum watched these.” He playfully scolded you.

“Hey, you started this.” You reminded him.

“And I’m ending it.”

“Actually, I’m the one who has to end it. That’s all the time we have. Thanks guys.” The journalist said. The last interview was done, meaning the press tour was officially over. You stood up and adjusted your skirt before looking at Tom. He smiled softly but felt his disappointment return. The tour was over which meant today was his last day with you. He knew you’d keep in touch, but it would never be like this again, and that’s made him sad.

Instead of wallowing in his sadness, Tom did something about it. He stopped by the corner store before making his way to your hotel room. In his way there, he ran into his brother Harry. Harry took one look at the bag of popcorn in his hands and knew what was happening.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Shut up.” Tom groaned. “I can still fire you.”

“You did the one thing you said you wouldn’t do. Now look at you. One your way to eat the most American combination of foods I have ever seen. You’re a disgrace to your homeland.”

“I couldn’t help it, okay? She made me fall for her. It’s all her fault, really. Now leave me alone. I have a girl to surprise with a disgusting snack.” Tom said and went on his way. He took a deep breath before knocking on your door. You opened your door for him and he held up his bag of supplies.

“Hey, you. What’s this?”You raised an eyebrow.

“Mustard and popcorn. You little freak.” He said with a teasing smile. Your lips curved into a smile as you stared at him.

“Get in here.” You instructed.

He went into your room and shut the door behind him as you poured the bag popcorn into two bowls. He did his best to hide his disgust as you squirt mustard over them both.

“Here. You’re gonna love this.” You said as you handed him his bowl.

“It smells like mustard.” He grimaced.

“Well, that’s 50% of the ingredients.”

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’m eating one.” He said and popped a mustard covered piece of popcorn into his mouth. You watched him as he chewed it and could tell he hated it.

“Well?” You asked.

“I’m gonna throw up.” He answered.

“Spit it out.” You laughed.

“No. You like this so I’m gonna force myself to like it too.” He said a begrudgingly swallowed the popcorn. You laughed at him but your smile slowly faded and you looked a little upset.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda down tonight.” You told him.

“You are? What’s bothering you?”

“I guess I’m just sad the tours over. I don’t like when things end.” You admitted with a sad smile.

“I’m sad it’s over too. They usually exhaust me but I don’t know. I particularly enjoyed this one.” Tom replied sheepishly without meeting your eyes.

“You did?” You asked as you ate your popcorn.

“I did. Mostly because I enjoyed getting to know you.” He admitted and finally looked up at you. You smiled in surprise and scooted closer to him. Tom gulped and looked down at his lap. The tour was officially over so if he didn’t want you to get on a plane without ever knowing how he felt, he was gonna have to speak now.

“You know, before the tour started, my brother made me promise that I wasn’t gonna fall for you.” Tom admitted.

“What?” You laughed softly. “Why would he make you promise that?”

“I don’t know. He said it would only end in two ways.” Tom said and looked into your eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Which were?” You wondered.

“We get caught up in the excitement of the movie so we start a fling and then breakup when the tour ends.”

“Well that didn’t happen. So what was the other option?”

“I fall for you and never tell you. And the tour ends and you get on a plane and I regret it for the rest of my life. But I guess that option didn’t happen either since I told you.” He said as he never dropped your gaze. You stared into his eyes for a moment as you processed what he had just admitted.

“Well, what if there was a secret third option?”

“Secret third option?” Tom asked with intrigue.

“I mean, just because the tour is ending that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of you and me, does it?” You said and leaned in even closer.

“It doesn’t?” He gulped at your close proximity.

“I don’t think so. And look. You bought me food. That makes this is our first date.” You explained as you held up your bowl of popcorn.

“Well I’m happy to hear that but don’t expect a kiss with your mustard breath.” Tom mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” You played along.

“I said you’re so pretty and I have a giant crush on you and want us to be together.” He said quickly.

“Much better.” You smiled and popped some popcorn into your mouth.

Tag List 🏷️

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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boredmadamoiselle · 4 months

Text

You're losing me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.

Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!

Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party

“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that.

All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.

While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate…

But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before.

Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.

You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...

You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.

Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.

As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble.

You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that.

It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months.

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep.

“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say.

He turned to look at you.

“What… what happens?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?”

As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.

He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”

He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying.

“What… what are you talking about? When?”

You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?

“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”

Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it.

“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back.

“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said.

“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”

As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out.

“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears.

Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…”

You didn’t give him the time to finish.

“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside.

“I never asked you to do all those things.”

You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.

You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.

“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…”

The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable.

“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears.

“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do.

“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you.

“What do you mean? The room or… me?”

Good question. You didn't know it either.

“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.”

You collected your last things.

You had reached the door when his words stopped you.

“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?”

You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?

“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?”

Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.

Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other.

You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger.

“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”

And with those last words you left the room and Charles.

You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you.

As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.

"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.

"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"

You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.

"Wait, where? What happened?"

You quickly looked at him before hugging him.

"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."

You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

--------------------------

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fiction #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc angst #f1

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

Text

Et Tu, Brute? | Steph Cately x Reader

Words: 2.6k Summary: everyone betrays you. You just didn’t expect her to do the same; "et tu, brute?" - 'you too, Brutus?' – Caesar upon seeing his friend amongst his assassins Warnings: sexual themes, sexual shaming, leaked nudes, angst, I make the arsenal girls assholes sorry. this probably isn't my best but i hope you like it Request by - @liasputellas

The air felt different as I walked into training. I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe the way Maggie our receptionist looked at me with disgust, or the way the whole locker room went quiet when I walked in, or the way everyone seemed to avoid me like the plague.

The rain was pelting down on us, but I stood alone on the sideline shivering as Jonas gives the rest of the team instructions. Steph seemed to be missing today despite the empty space in bed when I awoke, so I was the odd one out. He finishes and approaches me.

“I think you should take a few days off.” Is the only thing he says.

“Why? What have I done wrong? No on will talk to me.”

“You haven’t seen?” I begin to get nervous, well more nervous than I already was, as he pulls out his phone.

“I thought Steph would have shown you this morning. I wish I wasn’t the one to break it to you.” He types things in and scrolls for a while before finally landing on what he’s looking for. Then he turns the phone to me.

Arsenal’s Star Midfielder, Y/n L/n’s Naughty Pictures Have Been Leaked By An Anonymous Source

My breathing grows heavy, and my head begins to pound. My sight goes into tunnel vision as I reread the headline over and over. This can’t be fucking happening.

I take off stumbling back toward the locker room, seeking some sort of privacy to have the breakdown. I end up sitting on the floor beneath a running shower in some false hope that it will wash away everything, but it’s all for naught. There was only one person I’d ever sent photos to, and it was Steph. She’s the one person I trust with my deepest secrets and she’s not here to comfort me or help me understand why the girls are ignoring. Obviously, it has to do with the photos but, I thought they’d be by my side.

Sobs wrack my body and I lose track of time as the shower continues to run, until I hear boots clacking against the linoleum floors. I scramble to get up and leave before they arrive, but the effort is futile.

They come piling in but stop in their tracks the moment Kim sees my soaking frame looking at the floor ashamed. I try to move around them, but Katie grabs a hold of my shoulder, my drenched jersey sticking to her skin as well as my own. My eyes flick around desperately looking for someone who will let me go, but not even Kyra seems to feel remorse.

“You’re going to go home, end things with Steph and stay somewhere until you figure out where you’re transferring to. You’re not welcome back here.” Katie pushes me back toward the locker room, clearly a sign that I should fucking move and get out, but I’m stood frozen.

“Did you not hear her?” Caitlin begins to approach me, much like a lion approaches it’s prey, but I still can’t move.

“Why are you doing this? Why would I end things with Steph?”

“You’re a dirty cheating bastard that doesn’t deserve her. You’re fucking disgusting.” Despite my want to fall to the ground and cry again, I slowly move to my cubby and grab my stuff, then make my way out.

When I finally pull into the driveway, I become very aware of Steph’s car that fills the space again. I become wary as I close the car door and make my way to the house, fearing what I’ll meet on the other side. I juggle my keys in my hand and struggle to slide it into the lock as they shake, but eventually the wood swings away from me and I step inside.

It’s eerily quiet as I make my way down the hall. Steph’s nowhere to be seen as I pull my now damp kit off and place it in the washing machine, or when I go to our room to grab clothes to change into. I trek back through the house, eventually falling onto the couch, with no sign of my wife.

My phone buzzes and I reach for it in a hurry, hoping to see a message from Steph. Instead, it’s from a small group chat of friends from across the football scene, checking in to ask if I’m okay. I leave them on read and scroll through my contacts to find Steph. I press call, but it goes straight to voicemail.

~~~~~

15 minutes later, keys rattle against the door in a similar fashion to how I imagine mine did, and in walks Steph. When she spots me on the couch she stops in her tracks and the look on her face slowly melts into anger.

“Why are you here?” I admit the harsh tone in her voice feels like a stab to the heart.

“Well, I basically just got fired so I didn’t really have anywhere else to go Steph. Can we talk?”

“I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

“Why? Is it because the fucking pictures you didn’t even bother to tell me about? Who doesn’t tell their wife that private pictures were leaked?”

“Don’t act like I’m in the wrong! You sent those photos to someone, it’s your fault for trusting them!”

“Who?! You? You’re saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

“No! Whoever you sent those fucking pictures to! Because it certainly wasn’t me who got them!” I freeze once I realise what she’s implying.

“Y- you really think I cheated on you? You think so low of me?”

“There is no other explanation for it Y/n!”

“You… you and the girls are fucking unbelievable. I’ve only ever sent those types of things to you Steph. Only you. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough. You really think I’d throw 6 years together, 2 of those married, away like that?” I take a deep breath as I try not to break down in front of who I thought was the love of my life.

“If you scroll back far enough, you’ll find those photos in our messages. Around 11 months ago, after your birthday. Before this morning you wouldn’t have been able to find them on anyone else’s phones except ours. Which means our messages got hacked.” I stand up and bump shoulders with her as I make my way back to our room, pulling out a duffle bag and packing it.

It takes a few minutes for the brunette to follow me, looming in the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Clearly that’s what everyone wants.”

“You’re just leaving? Just giving up?”

“Giving up!? No Steph, I’m not ‘just giving up’. You think I’m capable of cheating. You think I’d throw away all my years of loving you just like that. For what? Some random hookup with a meaningless girl I’d never see again? You clearly don’t trust me, which I can’t live with. I love you. And it’s not just you. The whole fucking team thinks so little of me. I kept my vows, why can’t you keep yours?” I continue to move around the room, collecting items I needed, as I wait for her response.

“I love you.” Is the only thing she can say, so I slip on some shoes, leaving the worn arsenal kit in the washing machine.

“I love you too. But until you can give me a proper apology, and mean it, I’m going to stay with Mackenzie or Sam. I guess tell Jonas I’ll hand in my resignation papers by tomorrow.” She grips my arm as I try to walk past her. Tears pool in her eyes and I can’t stop mine from falling.

“Please stay. We can talk.” She whispers, her bottom lip wobbling.

“I don’t think I can do that right now.” I reply, and I kiss her gently as a goodbye before I walk out the door.

~~~~~

I end up at Sam’s, having officially resigned from Arsenal the morning after leaving, who made a statement later that same day.

We deeply regret that we have to make this statement but unfortunately Y/n L/n has been let go from the Arsenal team due to conflict between players. We wish her the best wherever she ends up.

I spend a lot of time with Kristie or join Sam at training to avoid looking at the horrible things people are saying about me on my phone. Sam likes to claim it’s ‘to feel like I’m still playing’. It just makes me sad, which is why I had every intention of refusing her offer to go again today. Then she told me Emma wanted to talk to me about something.

“Why does Emma want to talk to me?” I poke Sam continuously as she leads me down the halls of Cobham.

“I have no clue.” The cheeky grin I’m very familiar with graces her face but it doesn’t hint at anything.

I push open the door and Emma directs me to sit down, which I don’t hesitate to do. Sam closes the door and leaves us to talk.

“I wanted to discuss your career’s future. You’ve spent a lot of time here with us after the situation, but have you received any offers from other clubs? What are your moves?”

“No. I haven’t received anything, no one wants to take the player who’s had a sex scandal. Not even in the Championship League.”

“Well obviously the transfer window doesn’t open until January, so it’s not on the table to bring you in as a player. But I was wondering, how do you feel about coaching. I’ve seen you give the younger players like Aggie tips, and she comes back onto the field much better, it’s clearly something you’re good at. Would it be something you’d look into doing?” I blink in shock as I try to process the question.

“Uh.. yes, yes absolutely I’d love to. I- I took the coaching courses over the break when I was out of the world cup on injury, so I’m fully qualified.”

“Well I’d love to have you on the coaching team. I’m looking for people to keep the players in line once I leave and I think someone who has played the recent developments in the game would be perfect. I have the contract ready for you to sign, right here, if you want.” She slides the paper over, and I read it over.

Am I really going to do this? Go to my clubs biggest rival? I could never make an appearance at Arsenal as a player or member of the team ever again. No one else wanted me. I couldn’t refuse the only offer I have.

“W- what about the leak? Aren’t I a liability?”

“We’re not stupid. They were personal photos between you and your wife. It’s not your fault and we know that. I want the best coaches for my team. And that’s you.”

Shock washes over the world of women’s football this week as Y/n L/n signs as an assistant coach alongside Emma Hayes at Chelsea. What does her wife, Arsenal and Australia’s star left back Steph Cately, think about this decision?

The day my signing is announced is the first time any of the Arsenal girls, including Steph, reach out to me.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ From Katie

‘Are you serious?’ From Caitlin and Kyra

‘I genuinely hope you’re happy there. You deserve the best and we couldn’t give it to you. I couldn’t give it to you. I love you and miss you. Maybe we could talk after the derby next weekend?’ I want so bad to leave Steph on read, but I can’t help but reply.

‘We’ll see. Love you’. Kristie takes my phone from me after that.

Training is odd. Being the one running it instead of participating. I like to join in on easy drills, bonding with some players, keeping fit and helping them understand how we want it done. A win-win-win if you will. Emma’s press conference before the game against Arsenal is when things get tense again.

“What effect do you think L/n on the Chelsea coaching staff will have on Arsenal, especially her wife Steph Cately? We haven’t seen them together in quite some time.” Some guy in the back of the room asks the question but it still rings in my ears as I hear it, Kristie watching the conference on her phone because Sam’s there.

“Well I don’t think it should have any effect on their players. Players have to compete against their former teammates all the time, whether as players or coaches. This should not be any different. They kicked her out, they made that decision. We gave her the option to come back into the game when no one else was willing to take that risk, and she’s made us better. As for Steph? I don’t know how she will react. She’s an incredible player, I’m sure she’ll be fine, but that’s none of my business.” I’m grateful for the way Emma stands up for me. She’s one of the few people I now trust with what’s going on behind the scenes of my life and marriage.

It's when we’re in the dugout, the players about to come out from the tunnel, when I begin to genuinely worry. I don’t want to put Steph off her game just by being here, but I’m not going to abandon the team that gave me everything when I had nothing. So I pull on my puffer coat, put in my ear piece, and take my spot next to Emma who puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight.

Yeah. I’ll be okay.

The game is rough, every time we score, Arsenal comes back with a matching goal. But they’re playing dirty. They’re making unnecessary tackles and getting yellow cards every other minute.

I laugh it off until Steph makes a challenge in the penalty box. Her leg stretches out in front of her, kicking the ball away from Fran’s feet, but she falls on a funny angle and doesn’t get back up.

I walk to the edge of the coach’s box, trying to get a better view as the medics run to her.

I tell myself she’ll be okay. She’s always okay.

The medics bring out a stretcher.

She’s not okay.

“Emma-”

“Go make sure she’s okay. We’ll be okay.” I follow closely behind the medics as they carry her down the tunnel and to the medical room.

I slide into the seat beside her as their team’s doctor checks on her knee, taking her hand in mine.

“You’re here.” She smiles gently at me, and I try not to cry. I haven’t seen her in so long.

“I’m here Stephy. I love you.”

“I miss you.” She pouts then grimaces as the doctor moves her knee.

“I miss you too. But-”

“But you can’t act like everything is fine unless I prove I trust you and regret what I did.” I nod solemnly.

“I promise I’ll prove it. Maybe you can come stay at home again. Just a couple times a week. We can have dinners and catch up. I miss the way you hold me.” She squeezes my hand as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can try that.” I press a kiss to her hand.

“But I’m staying at Chelsea. They treat me right here.” Steph pauses, but smiles.

“Rivalry could be good for us. You little Blue.”

It will be a long journey, but we’ll make it through.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #the matildas x reader #wsl #the matildas #steph catley #steph cately x reader #arsenal fcw

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rosie-writings · 2 months

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Collapse Into Me

Request: anon— A honeymoon fic of Colby bringing his wife to Wales like he mentioned on Snapchat during their Europe trip

Summary: Wedding planning polarized you and your family, but it made you realize that Colby’s family is the one you were meant to be in.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bondage, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, and all the warm fluffy feelings

Words: 9k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

My hands were shaking, trembling to the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold in the air or that shrill in her voice.

“And so you think it’s a good idea, now?” My eyebrows pushed together at the sight of hers raising. “Of all times, now?”

”I mean, technically not-not now. In February.”

”February?” I didn’t think her voice reached that pitch, but of course it was me who could draw it out of her. “You’re giving yourself four months to plan a wedding? You’re so stupid.”

”Tell me why I’m stupid about this. You haven’t given me a valid reason; you’ve given me ridiculous reasons for why you think I’m stupid about other things, but not this.”

”Because,” she sighed with a twinge in her voice. My eyes grazed the stringy amber brown streaked blonde directionless curls at the end of her wavy hair. The last three inches of them should have been cut off months ago. “You of all people should know that it’s dumb behavior to have a ring on your finger three months into even entertaining the idea of being-of being stuck to someone.” My eyes fell flat.

I never liked the fact that I was five inches shorter than my cousin, but at this moment, I realized that she swung her height clunkily with those heels that used to be in my bedroom. My mom left them on my bed for me when she accidentally bought two sizes too big for herself. Of course I left them in my cousin’s car accidentally on purpose because why would a clan of near-six-foot-tall women leave a size ten shoe for the one who barely hit five foot four.

“Okay,” my voice shook. “That kind of hurt actually.”

”Yeah; truth hurts. That’s how you know that this is the truth.” If that was the case, I could hurt her a lot right now. I would start with the fact that her eye color never really matched her beloved blue mascara, but that was neither here nor there.

”Well… I’d rather be stuck to him for the rest of my life than you guys.” I looked away and shoved down the burning in my throat. I continued the blame before she could gasp her pitiful response. “I mean, it’s true for you I suppose.”

”It’s true for anyone!”

”You-You hardly know what I want.” The scoff of her thick lips made mine push in a tight line.

”I’ve seen you under the sun enough to know that you’ve daydreamed about your honeymoon being at the beach.” Or maybe I simply day dreamed about a summer vacation without your squeaky voice cutting through the soothing sound of waves—

“I mean, you’re probably just projecting,” I sighed. “At least your skin keeps a tan. It’s just too much work for me to prioritize staying dark.”

“Yeah I know,” she said and I bit my tongue to conceal the roll of my eyes as if my eyes and tongue were connected. “Maybe I should just convince your mom to talk sense into you.”

”I mean, I’ve told her already and you’re the only one who’s given me this amount of shit about it.” Her eyes widened; they yielded a confrontation I wasn’t ready for.

“Hm,” she sighed. Her eyes scanned me and it felt nice for her to be speechless if even for a second. “Well I still don’t like it.”

”And not everything’s about you.” This time her eyes rolled.

“Where are you even getting married? He has enough money to take you wherever you want and have it done.”

”Pf,” I scoffed because my stomach turned at the sound of her already expecting something from him. “Perhaps, but you damn well know I have enough money to bring all of us anywhere I want to go.” Her eyebrow rose. Only one of them.

”So you’re telling me he’s making you pay?”

”I don’t remember your opinion mattering when it comes to issues between a husband and wife, but go off I guess.” She audibly gasped.

”I’m telling your mom you said that.”

”Do it,” I challenged without blinking. She rolled her eyes. Her stupid car keys flicked over her hand. No one ever told her that the weight of all the senseless chains between far and few keys on the ring could ruin her ignition. She probably pumped her own gas once.

”I will.” She spun on her heel and walked over the edge of the curb. Her hand settled on the handle of that pristine Audi she bought last autumn. Well, she didn’t buy it; follow the money up the chain and it would come from YouTube into my bank account. “Also, I could never see you getting married in the dead of winter. You’d blend in with the snow and dead trees.”

I rolled my eyes because she didn’t know that it made me cry at night when my skin reddened from the unrelenting summer sun.

It didn’t even snow in Southern California.

”Hey,” he said, and the door of the car hardly opened all the way when the sweet sound hit my ears. Despite the tension in my throat, I stifled a wide smile.

”Hi,” I said as I sat down and closed the door. A flick of a millisecond long expression from him told me that I held my breath for too long when I said my greeting.

“I’m guessing it went…”

”Yeah no,” I sighed as I released the tension in my throat. My fingers etched into the thick leather of his car. His hand found my thigh. My eyes still peeled out the window. “She’s an idiot. They all are.” He was quiet for a moment. Before a smile broke. God, I couldn’t look away from him even if I only drowned on half of his appearance. His eyes were on the road.

“Sorry, but I anticipated that.” I shook my head.

It was September, and Colby and I got engaged almost a month ago. I waited to tell any of my family until now so that we could breathe and be excited by taking a break at work and partying with friends more than necessary. I knew that it would put yet another ringer between my women dominated family who each had expectations much higher than I did.

Well, my expectation of the actual person I was going to marry clearly was higher than theirs. Their primary focus was the wedding and who their bridesmaids were going to be and where the bachelorette parties would be and where the honeymoon—

Jesus Christ.

Maybe I was the second out of eleven of us getting married—I had three sisters and four first and three second cousins; all of us girls—because I wanted to get it over with. Maybe it sounded sad, and I kind of was, but this sadness was rooted in the stigma they inadvertently forced in me when I was young. I knew I didn’t meet their expectations when it came to the kind of dresses I liked.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no less materialistic than they were. I just liked making my own money and giving myself clothes and dresses devoid of color when I wanted to, unlike the ones their mothers and fathers threw at them in between whiny complaints. They dressed me up one time when I was sixteen; that was when the oldest was married at 25. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because there were too many of us, especially when combined with her two best friends.

And I wasn’t the flower girl either because I wasn’t the youngest. But if she had asked me to be the flower girl, I would have dressed in a floor length black dress out of spite towards the embarrassment.

The first time I would be in a wedding would be my own, and I was thoroughly happy about it.

I liked the way—that when Colby’s fingertips dragged up my leg to find my hand, and once found—his own rings clashed with the one he gave me. I also liked the fact that the first ring I ever accepted from someone was his, and also the fact that the first ring to be placed on his ring finger would be the one I would get him. Despite the dozens of rings that adorned his fingers at every second of the day, I knew he deliberately made vacant his ring finger, even if he never explicitly mentioned it. I noticed.

So now we were on the way back to his house. I suspected Sam was back from his morning responsibility and as were other friends considering the amount of food in the backseat. Colby must have picked it up right as he picked me up from the cafe I met my sisters at that morning.

We talked about the engagement at first, and I was smart enough to tell them in public so they couldn’t make too large of a scene. It was my sister who was the happiest. She was two years older than me; the oldest of us four. Two of the three cousins who decided to spend their time on me had to warm to the idea. It was my second oldest sister and the third cousin who stayed later after everyone else left to chew me out about it.

I was saved by God herself when my sister said she was going to be late for work and left. My cousin didn’t get the memo and didn’t leave in her car until Colby’s had been sitting on the side of the road, since all the parking spaces were taken, for a solid minute.

It felt like I could breathe everytime I stepped foot in their house.

Once everything was settled, anyway.

Colby told me the night we were engaged, after the party and after we had been alone for two hours, that he would have proposed to me in the spring, but it took all those months to convince Sam that it was a good idea.

”I never expected you to be the one to convince Sam that marriage could be good; I thought it would be the other way around,” I told Colby when my thumb still twisted the engagement ring on my finger. He laughed.

”I don’t think it would have mattered who was getting married between us; the other one was bound to take months to come to terms with it.”

And I knew it had nothing to do with me. I love their friendship wholeheartedly; I had no complaints about it at all.

“I really don’t hold any of that-that mess against you, you know?” I shook my head in faux annoyance.

”You don’t have to tell me that everytime I had a standoff with them about you,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s a little much—“

”I mean, even though I fucking hate them sometimes—most of the time—I still couldn’t marry someone who seriously hates them. That’s for me and me only.”

”You take the brunt of them too much.”

”Yeah well,” I sighed as we got to the house, and thanked God for it. “Someone has to and at least I have the patience to not tear their family apart unlike our mothers.” He smiled, and I knew it had nothing to do with what I meant.

Their family, as in, I was already founded by another.

Wedding planning was nice when I was secluded with my friends and when I was with Colby; the anxiety of being without the rest of my family was forgotten. I knew I was different from them, but I didn’t realize how much I was until my own wedding planning turned into a mirror. I also couldn’t stop thinking about my oldest cousin’s wedding; maybe it was a blessing more than a curse that I didn’t have to wear one of those coral bridesmaid dresses that looked stuck in a 2015 Instagram feed.

I really didn’t look good in coral. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Or maybe it was the fact that if I chose a dress that would cover my tattoos, it wouldn’t match her aesthetic.

It didn’t matter to me. None of them would be in my wedding.

I take that back; one would, and that was the one who cried when I FaceTimed her two weeks ago. Colby, even, invited her to a party of recent to which she declined but was thankful still for including her. She was a month younger than me. I threatened her to not tell the rest of our family. The fact that I told her was enough; I knew she wouldn’t.

Maybe there was a certain decibel of venom on my tongue when I talked about my family to the boys, but I was too lethargic to say it to their faces. My family would expect yelling, arguing, and receipts, and at this point, I simply didn’t care enough.

I decided to save the energy for the week the world learned about who was in my ring of bridesmaids.

“Good thing you only have a few months left of it,” Colby said a bit too happily. I smiled as we grabbed the food and walked into their full house.

And a few months it was.

I dizzied at the sight of the makeup on my face. To be completely transparent, I tried this look on myself before and I thought I looked decent until a professional artist, obviously, made my version of the look more similar to a newborn digging through its mother’s makeup bag. Two days. Just two more days and it would be over. It guilted me that that was how I felt about wedding planning, but I just wanted to be alone.

Alone with Colby; how was that different than being alone at this point?

Somehow, the weather caved as if it knew and obeyed the spite in my heart. Thick winterous clouds rolled in last night, and I couldn’t help but smile at them. No longer did I imagine a piercing blue sky over us in our wedding photos. I didn’t fully understand why it made me ecstatic to know that the weather would traditionally be not ideal for a wedding.

Maybe it was the fact that the earth gave me what I wanted.

My mother, three cousins, and one sister complained about how gross it was outside and how they wished the sky would clear up. I silently prayed it wouldn’t. I could have sworn the clouds turned grayer. I knew I wouldn’t get snow in Los Angeles, but my family was right about the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to handle the chill.

And I thought that fluke cool front in September was cold.

“What do you think?” I asked as my best friend walked in the room upon the makeup artist’s request.

”Stop,” she gasped and she smiled ear to ear until the burning I ever so hated coiled in my throat. “I fear I’m going to have to be a bitch to you tomorrow so that we won’t get all sentimental and cry it all off.”

”Good,” I snorted. “Because if I cry I’m punching you in the throat.” I held the mirror and looked at myself. It was the first time I wore makeup that mended with my skin tone. It didn’t look like I stole mud from the earth and rubbed in on my cool skin. I looked more alive and healthy than I did when my sister did my make up, and my heart sped at the idea that each of them would scowl at the eyeliner that might have been a millimeter thicker than the average wedding liner. I don’t know what it was; I didn’t do things out of spite all the time.

It simply looked like spite when I did things for myself.

I saved putting my dress on for tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, my best friend tied it up for me. Or zipped it. Both, actually.

The photographer snapped our intimate moments in the women’s getting ready room. My two other friends, my sister, and Colby’s sister including our moms who stopped by for no more than ten minutes accompanied. The silence was a blessing even though we were the furthest from actually staying quiet. I didn’t think I liked other human voices until I met my closest friends.

It ended before I convinced myself it started.

My stomach was in knots until I saw Colby that day, and then I remembered the rest. I blacked out when I was with him, always, and could only remember the things we kept between us. The rest of it didn’t matter. The morning mattered, but the nerves gnawed at them, and when we were together, who cared about the cousin gossiping rows away?

I heard his footsteps before his voice. He took his time, and I didn’t move.

I stood in the room that my bridesmaids and I readied ourselves in nearly an hour ago.

My lips still buzzed from the feeling of his. We kissed far too many times to count, but it felt like this one counted more than the rest.

He took more steps towards me.

I noticed my breath as my eyes still peeled out the window. The heavy winter clouds still hung low, and the trees around the venue were almost colorless aside from the nearly black bark that hung on through the stress of winter. The decorations took the place of snow, and I appreciated my best friend’s idea of having black and white be the colors for our wedding, because I couldn’t look away. The red roses displaced here and there warmed the ornate black iron chairs facing the altar, and I imagined what the semi outdoor and indoor reception space appeared like now that people and music filled it.

He didn’t say anything by the time he stood behind me. His hands found my waist. I still didn’t move.

I knew he came to find me, primarily, but also prepared me for entering the reception hand in hand. I assumed all that was forgotten when he found me here, alone. I didn’t intend on being alone. After photos, my bridesmaids and I came up here to freshen up and they then went off to arrange our entrance. Colby did the same with his groomsmen.

“Fuck off; go find your wife we have business to attend to,” I read Sam’s lips. Colby laughed and didn’t question when a handful of them raced by with cans and markers in their hands. I watched them down below on the porch; butterflies filled me when Colby walked in the front door.

A breath dragged quickly between my teeth when Colby left a trail of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder. The white lace of my sleeves hardly clung on my shoulder giving him much room. He didn’t take advantage of it for the sake of photos, but I knew he wanted to. I leaned back into his touch, but didn’t take my eyes off the window.

The ceremony space was fully empty now; the last few guests made it to the reception space.

“As much as I’m contemplating taking you here and fucking you on every surface of this room, I’m not sure you would appreciate me messing up your makeup before we go to the reception.”

My face burned, oh it burned, I didn’t look at him or else his pestering smile would make it worse.

”Bring me downstairs then,” I laughed and turned to him finally. I hardly looked at him before his lips were on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, ever pulling him tighter. I breathed him in as he tasted me.

Maybe my wine red lipstick was transfer proofed on purpose, but a tiny part of me wished it wasn’t because his new ring wouldn’t be the only symbol of claim on him.

”Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped in mine.

I tasted him through the reception.

Through pictures, dances, cake, and conversations; I didn’t think a mouth could be so memorable.

”What?” I gasped when I butted in the boys’ conversation at the end. Sam looked at me with wide drunken eyes that buzzed from the thrill of the night.

”Uh—We were reminding Colby to just chill out and take a breath before seeing his car and probably have it washed before you do anything else or else he’d have to get a new paint job tomorrow.”

”Jesus Christ,” Colby laughed.

And after we left the venue, we did just that. I didn’t know that shaving cream could eat away at car paint but there we were.

My ears rang after the car doors were shut, and my breathing caught in my chest.

We were alone.

We had been alone and spent many nights sleepless and breathless, but none of them amounted to that night, that moment. I couldn’t pinpoint why, I just knew.

He didn’t say anything in the minutes it took to reach the freeway. My palm burned against his. His fingertips raced up my palm and invaded the lace that started at my wrist. Chills electrified up my arm from where his fingertips touched, and I didn’t move away from them.

My head spun with every step, and before I knew it, we walked into the hotel suite booked if only for a handful of hours. Until our flight. I walked in, my breathing definitely not under control, and he haphazardly set our bags down. I felt his eyes on me, and before I could turn around, I heard his quick steps. I broke into a smile when his hands reached me, and he spun me around harshly for himself.

His hand held my face, and no longer was his touch filled with care for my appearance. No, it was filled with a vengeance to touch, to please, to get near. He licked into my mouth and I gave and gave, his hands didn’t leave any part of my body untouched, even as we stood there.

And then he fell to his knees.

My breath left me as he looked up darkly from where he descended. As I drew a breath to ask what he was doing, hands slowly snaked up my legs.

“Colby,” I hummed his name. There wasn’t much of a skirt to my dress; it was more a-line than anything, but the thin layers of fabric were soft, durable. My skin crawled at the sound of it brushing against the sleeve of his thick jacket. He still hadn’t changed a thing about his appearance since the ceremony. Maybe his jacket came off at some point while dancing, but we could see our breaths in the air outside.

”Oh—“ I couldn’t contain my hums, moans, and noises as his fingertips trailed up my skin, and when he dove under my dress and used his mouth on me instead, I saw stars.

I couldn’t remember another word other than his name. I felt it too; the hum of his own moans against my thighs. What on earth took him so long? I was torn in two. A part of me needed to feel every part of him now, but the other wanted to stay here forever and let him touch and kiss every cell of my body.

The muscles in my stomach tensed the moment his fingers grabbed the top of one of the garters around my thigh and he snapped it back. My hand reflexively pushed his head and he laughed. I thought he would take it off, but no. His retaliation was shoving me by the hips to sit on the edge of the bed behind me.

Instead, his lips and tongue dove right where I ached for him.

With a gasp, I tried to handle what I felt, but I couldn’t. He didn’t even move to take off the lace that was probably ruined with my arousal and had been for hours now. Then a few fingertips dipped behind the side of it and I preened at the feeling of his cool fingerprints in my unbearable heat.

“Colby—“ I gasped yet again, but he didn’t wait up. Two fingers dove into me. He knew how ready I was; he probably knew from the look in my eyes alone. Then he whispered something against me that I couldn’t make out. He shoved the lingerie out of his way, and I gasped at the tough stretch of the lace in my inner hip. His tongue was on me, his mouth worked me and sucked me sweetly as his fingers slowly moved in and out.

My head hit the bed as I gave up any power I had.

Then he gasped and breathed heavily as he pushed my skirt up higher. It pooled across my hips, and I rose to my elbows so I could finally see his pretty face. It was flushed, and his eyes were dark and hazy.

Those hands grabbed my thighs, and the pressure fueled my lust must have left bruises in their wake. I yelled his name as he dove back down into me, and I finally was able to string my fingers through his messy hair.

I chanted his name like a prayer and I felt moans and words in between my legs again. No part of me could find the mess he made of his mouth, my heat, repulsive in any way even though I know I would scrub us clean in a handful of time.

”Oh my god, I’ll come already,” I gasped. Of course this fueled his movements. My voice broke into higher whines, and he didn’t complain if I yanked on the roots of his hair too tightly.

He licked me through my orgasm even as I shook through violent aftershocks.

He shot to his feet.

”Please—“ I gasped. His eyes didn’t come off mine as he unbuckled his belt. I did, though, I took my eyes off his eyes, and I launched forward. Even though it may have taken more time than if he did it, he allowed my excitement to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. I felt his gaze on top of me, and his hand stroked in alignment with the currents of my hair. It was pinned behind me loosely where rivers of strands wound elegantly.

My heart raced at the feeling of his rough, and respectfully gentle hand warmly brushing and leading me without messing up my hair. I wanted him to, though. God, I wanted him to ruin my hair.

Ruin my makeup.

I pulled him from his pants, and a river of uneven breaths flowed from him. He hummed my name when I took him in my mouth.

”Just-Just want inside you,” he whispered. I ignored him and laced my gaze with his as I went down on him over and over. His eyes rolled back and my body surged deeper around him when pleasure overcame him. I might have gone faster, might have gotten ahead of myself— “Alright, alright,” he gasped. He grabbed himself and pulled me by the hair. I gasped when I came off of him.

He shoved me down to the bed.

I looked up at him, and he didn’t move us. He didn’t take another article of clothing off us.

I couldn’t speak, and from the look in his eyes, he clearly couldn’t either. His heart raced; I could tell by the way his breath escaped him in and out unevenly. He shoved my lingerie to the side again.

Like every time his body mended with mine, he filled me to the brim.

“Love you—“ He gasped so lowly I hardly heard him. “Mine, you’re all mine.”

”And you’re mine,” I whined when he thrusted harshly. We didn’t leave room for teasing. He didn’t want to waste another second—not that any of the many seconds of the day were wasted—but what else was each glance we sent each other on this day other than teasing, foreplay.

God, I undressed him with my eyes dozens of times today alone.

His hands raced down my legs, pushed them back and spread them further apart. Eyes tore me to shreds. His face strained with pleasure, and I had to hold onto the duvet tightly since I couldn’t read what I wished to.

”God—fucking—in the way—“ He cut himself off with a tear.

He didn’t want to take off any of my clothes, no, he wanted to savor the sight of this day on my skin, so he tore the side lace of the lingerie slightly so that he didn’t catch on the tightness of it. I gasped some tension released, and he was able to find better leverage.

”I love you, I love you—holy shit—you’re mine.” This time he leaned forward with one of my legs hooked over his arm.

”I’m yours,” I repeated.

”I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to stay filled with it until the morning,” he said. I thought his hand wrapped around my throat, but that was just my visceral reaction.

“Colby,” I gasped his name breathlessly. “Need you in me forever.”

It was quick, and I didn’t realize until later how calculated it was.

After he filled me, he recovered me with the tight white lingerie—albeit slightly ripped now—and his release couldn’t slip out. My body trembled under his touch, his gaze, and he kissed me like he meant it at the altar. He always did.

”Sit up,” he gasped. I obeyed and looked up at him for the next direction. Instead of making a command, he walked over and sat behind me on the bed. His hands were hot and sweaty, his breath still quick.

Then, his hands started working on the laces and zipper of my dress. It took him a second, but he learned and released me from the dress slowly. A part of me wanted to rush him, but this was it. The first and the last time he would take this dress off of me. When it was undone, his fingers uncovered my shoulders; fingers grazing my inked skin behind the falling lace.

Colby stood in front of me as I too raised to my feet and he pushed down my dress. I stepped out of it. When he went to worship the rest of my body that he neglected, I cut him off. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I savored his moans against my tongue before I licked into his mouth. His hands were on me. They fell down my bare sides, ran over the roughness of the lace lingerie over my hips, and raced back up over my shoulders, my chest.

I pulled away.

Without looking away from the eyes I swam in every day, I loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then his jacket.

My fingers worked and unclasped the buttons of his button up. With each one I unbuttoned, I kissed down his skin. I felt the way he shuddered under my breath, my lips, and I was reminded all over again the real effect I had on him. His heart beat erratically, his breath wavered.

I kissed all the way down his body until I was on my knees. The shirt slipped from his shoulders. He pulled from his shoes and pushed them away. Then I pulled his pants off fully; obviously they were already unbuckled.

He moaned my name, and somehow this was more intimate than him putting his cum in me.

”Come here,” he said before I could take his underwear off. I stood. He kissed me again, but he pulled me. His lips pulled me, his hands.

I followed him into the bathroom.

Looking back on it, every decision he made was calculated. He always allowed me my fun, but he never skipped a step or a plan.

Colby flicked the light in the bathroom on and he pulled the stool at the wide granite sink away for me. I sat and looked at myself in the mirror.

A flush matched my messy makeup and painted my skin. For as dressed as my hair and face were, my body sat completely bare. Naturally I considered cowering away, but he would never allow that. I froze as he stood behind me and ever so gently, began pulling the hair pins from my hair and setting them on the sink.

Pretty sure I melted then and there as if nothing that had just happened, happened.

I watched his face as he focused. With every pin, a strand of hair cascaded down my skin. Goosebumps spread over the touches. He kept the hair down my back and didn’t allow it in front of me. I knew that was on purpose; I would have covered my nipples with the strands.

When my hair was completely free, he left the bathroom.

”Colb—“ He immediately returned with my bag. He opened it. He grabbed the smaller bag inside of it knowing my brush and makeup remover were in it.

I could have been shaking from the chill in the bathroom, but I think it was from the warmth that pooled in between my legs in my underwear. I knew my eyes were darkened with thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror as he brushed my hair.

The fact that his cum pooled in my underwear while he did the sweetest, gentlest thing he had ever done for me turned this into the filthiest memory I had.

He must have known that this memory would get me on his knees for him every day for the rest of our lives.

“Stop that,” he finally broke the very long silence. I don’t think we ever sat in such a long silence without one of us sleeping.

”Stop what?” My voice caught. We ignored it.

”Staring at me like you’re going to eat me or something.” I laughed.

”Obviously,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes away. He laughed at the heated blush on my face.

”God, you’re so beautiful. Insane in my hands.” He left the brush on the counter. “Take off your makeup and we’ll go lay down, okay?”

”Okay,” I nodded.

I knew he wanted to shower, but he wanted me to sleep with his cum in me more.

After I was finished cleaning my face, he shoved me back down on the stool. I gasped when he got on his knees in between my thighs. Darkly, his eyes glanced up at me for a moment and then he looked at my skin where he touched me.

As his fingers drenched the skin of my legs, he tugged the garter on my thigh off with his teeth. His breath left hot chills trailed behind.

When the early sun woke me up, I realized he purposely didn’t draw the curtains so we could wake up without an alarm but still on time. We woke up very much so on time; we didn’t need to leave for the airport for another three hours. It was six am. I opened my eyes and rolled to him. His body was on fire, and my skin writhed at the feeling of his hard he was against me already. Before he choked out his first word, I straddled him.

“Baby,” he moaned, hands rested on my hips. I still wore my underwear like he wanted. His eyes fell down my body and landed on my underwear. “Off. Need these off now,” he demanded as he played with the frayed edges of the tear he caused. I raised my hips and pulled them down. His refreshed eyes didn’t miss a second of my body that was revealed from under the white fabric.

”Holy shit—“ he gasped, and that was how I realized we mixed—our fluids mixed—in between my legs and still connected my underwear to me. He didn’t spend another word. He threw the lingerie aimlessly and grabbed my hips with a force, a dominance, he didn’t use last night. I squealed as he yanked me back down on his lap.

My eyes rolled back when we both thrusted my hips across him; up and down.

And when he filled me, when he shoved me down on him, I rode him until we both neared tears and more of his cum stuffed inside of me. The sun had barely awakened the city.

He washed my hair and my body in the shower that morning, and I was glad I woke us up so early so that our third round in seven hours was under that hot shower rain. It was less the rain that washed clean our mess between my legs and more his tongue. More within this night had he fallen to his knees for me than I could remember. So, naturally, I fell on my knees for him after.

We stood at the wide mirror and talked as we got ready.

Our flight to Wales was in an hour and a half.

And my stomach was in knots.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that this was the true start of the rest of our lives together, and not only that, we were on our way to an entirely different country alone to stay alone for a week without distractions. We’ve traveled together before, but I knew that nothing was about to compare to this.

Only through TSA did he pull his hand away from mine.

I didn’t even think about it.

Not even a millisecond of time was spent worrying about anyone else. Not our families, our friends, or our work took up a second of space in my head. I was torn apart for choosing the honeymoon location. While discussing it with Colby, we realized that we both already wanted to come here. He had been here with Sam before once while on their Europe trip. This country was simply romanticized in my head by the books I enjoyed.

The grass was infinitely greener than I anticipated considering the chilling weather. When I touched the grasses and blades of bristles that show from the soft earth, they weren’t soft or warm, and I snapped my hand back with a smile.

The room was blue, I think; more windows spanned the walls of the bedroom than an actual expanse of drywall. The spindles of the bed were high and came together only a hair from the ceiling with white satin draped past the plush duvet. My fingers grazed the stitches in the duvet cover. He was behind me.

I figured we would get accustomed to this house in a few hours.

We would get accustomed to each others’ bodies again in the meantime.

First, his hands raised to my waist like they did so often.

Then he spun me around violently; that same gentleness must have run thin from our hours of travel. The sun set behind the horizon already and orange bands through the winter clouds were the only light in the dim room.

He kissed me again and without being able to see, my sense of touch was heightened to the max.

My back hit the bed and my pants slid down; I wasn’t sure which came first. The next thing I knew, he was over me, and his hand supported himself next to my head. I only made out his silhouette as my hands touched every part of it.

“Oh fuck—“ he gasped when my hands harshly invaded the top of his pants before he could remove them himself. I couldn’t not say his name; at this point it was a habitual moan for me.

He kissed my neck and shoved my arms to the bed on either side of me. I didn’t even try to stop the embarrassing sounds that poured from me when he harshly fucked his hips into me at the same time that his teeth hooked on my skin. Now he could leave his mark. I knew he suffered the past month not being able to leave his love marks all over my body for people to see for the sake of photos. I yanked his shirt off forcefully before he dove back into tasting my skin.

He needed to make it up to me. There was a month of aggression, possession and need to touch, to claim.

“Fuck me,” I demanded. His breath hitched in his throat and the pressure from his hips doubled. “Fuck me so hard, Colby. I swear to God—“

I screamed when he suddenly pushed into me and didn’t give me a second to process.

”No need to beg, baby,” he hummed; his voice darkly quiet in my hair. I didn’t remember when he pulled himself from his underwear or when he moved mine. It was all too fast. He fucked the moans out of me. I thought my vision went blurry.

He raised to his feet and I realized that this was the second time we hardly made it to the bed since being married.

“Feel so good,” I whispered with moans broken by his thrusts.

“Get up,” he demanded. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. It was all too much. “Get up,” Colby spat and his hand linked around my neck and he yanked me up. I gasped and open mouthed kisses shared between our panting breaths. I rolled my hips into him and his eyes shut tightly.

”Turn over.”

Shaking gasps poured from me from the fire lit butterflies that those simply words shoved down my throat. I turned over. My knees almost fell to the floor, but he hoisted me up and shoved back into me.

”Oh my god, Colby!” And a loud lengthen moan streamed from him. I balled the blankets in my fists when he raised one of my knees onto the edge of the bed for a better angle.

I didn’t just see blurry, stars and colors swirled behind my eyes as well.

”Holy shit, my pretty wife, taking me so well.” I could have passed out from his words alone. Then his fingers grabbed me by the roots of my hair.

He yanked. My back bent backwards and I felt him push kisses and moans against my head, my neck. God, it was so rough too. It had only been a month since the last time he fucked me with that desperation of wanting to leave a piece of him inside, but it felt like the first. His other hand left bruises and purple crescent moons in my hips, my ass.

”Fucking hell—Get up, lay on the bed,” he finally broke and pulled out of me. So of course I scrambled to lay my head on the pillows naturally if it meant he wouldn’t be inside of me again until I obeyed. I watched as he grabbed things from his bag. “Will you give me your wrists?”

”Fuck,” I gasped and my hands shot above my head. “Yes, yes, yes.” And he laughed at my enthusiasm. He tugged my shirt off.

A gasp sucked through his teeth fast enough that I knew they burned from the chill.

Even in the dark, his eyes devoured the way my fair skin contrasted with the dark lingerie that laced over my chest. He yanked my pants off the rest of the way and his eyes fell lower.

”You wore this all day?” He gasped.

”I put it on when I went to the bathroom in the airport.” A deep breath slowly left him. Then he leaned over and clicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.

The orange glow drenched my body, and I writhed under his intense gaze. I knew he ripped the thick lace apart in his mind. I waited and waited for him to actually do it.

Instead, he grabbed something he laid on the bed a second ago. The world stopped spinning when he lifted his wine red tie and wrapped it around my hands and a portion of the frame of the bed below the headboard. My heart was in my throat; the same tie he wore when he sealed our marriage with a kiss in front of our closest friends and family was now the fabric that tied me down to his bed. Our bed. It didn’t matter what physical bed we were in; it was ours.

”Pull, baby,” he sighed. The way his voice was smooth like he talked me to sleep as if he wasn’t tying me down thinking of all the ways he could rip my clothes off. I tested the makeshift cuffs but we knew it didn’t matter; he was entirely proficient in tying me down.

Fingers started at my throat and they painfully slowly dragged down my skin. Chills waved down my cold skin in their wake, and he rounded my heat and followed the band of lace that dipped an inch lower down my rib cage. The strap of matching lace around my waist that hooked onto my matching underwear were what his eyes drowned on next. He tugged on one of the stretchy bands that connected them and snapped it back. I winced.

”You’re going to kill me,” he simply said. I nodded like that’s what I intended.

I held my breath when he picked up my vibrator from the bed.

”Colby—“

”Sh,” he said with finality. The vibrator hummed to life. “You’re not about to tell me what to do, right?” I shook my head furiously.

He shoved it against me over the lace.

I gasped and my back arched. His hand held my side; thumb stroked across the lace.

”So fucking hot, holy shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

”Why-Why are you holding back?” I moaned.

”You don’t want me to? I won’t be nice.”

”Tear me apart, Colby.” His eyes darkened, unblinking. “Do you not want to use me? Claim your wife?” His nails jutted into my skin and I gasped a moan.

He turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

I screamed. My eyes rolled to black as the pleasure washed over me—more so drowned me under tons of ocean weight—and he firmly held my hips down and pressed it tighter against me.

”You want me to use you?” My skin crawled. His voice still hardly trespassed a whisper. “How could I expect anything else from my slutty wife, hm? Tied to my bed, dressed like a whore, and begging for me and teasing me with that filthy mouth?”

“Colby—“ I gasped with a shaking seriousness.

”What? Realizing you bit off more than you could chew?”

”Colby—“ I warned him, loudly this time.

”Cum,” he demanded. “You wanna act like my slut? Then cum for me.”

That’s what I warned him about; I was too glad that he demanded from me what I couldn’t control.

My climax blinded me and the pleasure only lasted for a breath before overstimulation stung me. He didn’t budge though. Not as I writhed, kicked, and tried to twist away from him.

”You fucking kick me again and I’m tying your legs down too.” I couldn’t even respond to that jeer. His voice picked up now and a sick part of me couldn’t get enough of it.

“Please,” I begged. “Can’t breathe—“

”You know our safe word,” he teased. My mouth closed. He scoffed. “What I fucking thought. Just a dumb slut who wants me to ruin her.”

“I’ll be so-be so good for you, please! Your fingers—Give me your fingers, please!”

”God you sound so pretty crying for me to fill you,” he sighed as his head lulled to the side. Completely enthralled; his eyes only blinked as much as necessary.

Moving my underwear to the side just enough for his fingers, Colby’s lips parted as he teased my slick entrance.

”Plea—“ He pushed three inside of me. “Oh shit,” I gasped. “Oh shit, yes, yes please.”

”You love it, hm? Love it when I fill you? Fuck you senseless?”

”Yes! I love it, I love it so much.” I tightened around him when the waves of pleasure built again. He shook his head quickly before the words even started.

”Don’t cum.”

”What?” I gasped. “Col—“

“No, I said don’t cum. You told me you wanted me to fill you and fuck you, so how about you take it first? Then maybe I’ll be nice if you cry hard enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tears already flooded my eyes.

Colby leaned over me. His lips hovered just out of reach. They parted as if he breathed too heavily to contain himself, and a parted smile shined down at me when I couldn’t gather myself. I whined when I couldn’t kiss him or touch him or reach him. I could only feel him the way he wanted me to.

”Please,” I gasped quietly.

”Please what?” His soft voice whispered. My eyes shut tightly, a tear fell. I wouldn’t be able to see that cute smile and listen to that gentle tone without imagining his fingers fucking me harshly and his other hand pinning a violent vibrator against me.

”Let me cum.”

”You’re not demanding me to let you cum, are you?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with question.

”N-No, please, Colby, please let me cum on your fingers, please.”

“Aw you sound so sweet, baby, trying to sound like my good girl?” The teasing made it unbearable. Yes, the vibrator made me lose my sense of self, but that venomous teasing gave it to Colby. Everything that I am was in his hands, his control.

“Yes! Been so good for you let me-let me cum already I can’t-I can’t control it—“

”Good thing you’re not supposed to,” he said. “I’m the one who tells you when to cum, okay?”

”Yes-Yes Sir, you-you—Please! I’m so good for you, wait-wait for you—“ I lost control of my voice.

The pain from the overstimulation dissipated.

My hands didn’t pull on the restraint anymore.

Colby kissed me sweetly. His lips and tongue left soft kisses down my neck.

”Yeah, that’s right, good girl,” he whispered calmly. He moaned and looked down in between us before he rose to his knees again. “You’re so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect. Fucking cum—oh my god—cum for me, baby,” he finally told me. And I let go.

I moaned his name and I fully relaxed into it, into the pain and the pleasure, and everything he gave me. I knew I drenched him. I added to our mess. I couldn’t tell if he lost control of himself or if I blacked out, but the next thing I knew, he finally filled me again.

”Holy shit—Colby—“ I cried. Finally his moans met my ears, and I almost crashed into that pool of pleasure all over again.

He fucked me as harshly as his fingers just had, and I watched his sweaty face twist in pleasure through blurry tears.

His free hand moved to my throat; his forearm rested on my chest for support. I whispered his name. Another warning.

”You going to cum one more time for me, my love?” He gasped breathlessly. “I’m so close, will you cum with me?” I nodded quickly even though I didn’t want this to end. I lost track of time when his body made itself home in mine. ”Oh shit!” He finally broke and raised himself to his knees.

I watched as he raced a hand through his hair; fingers tugging at the roots as his eyes watched where he entered me.

”Cumming—“ I cried and his eyes flicked to mine for a moment.

The height of my orgasm hit me then he pulled out. I rode it out on the vibrator as his moans became music in my ears. He finished himself off; painted me with his release.

It took work for me to hold my eyes open. Between the pleasure and the way he looked painting me with his cum, I couldn’t really believe there was a heaven better than this one.

And he turned the vibrator off.

He sat on his knees in between my useless legs and panted.

I didn’t object when he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and took a flashed photo high enough to capture his chest down to my ruined body and my hands tied up to the bed. I opened my eyes when the flash was over and he fell over me; hand supported him next to my head. He showed me the photo with bated breath.

My throat coiled in on itself at the disgusting filth he captured. He was still enticingly hard, flushed pink, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight of his cum ruining my lingerie. My mouth watered at the pearly streaks of white that contrasted on the black lace and black ink on my fair skin under the lingerie. The red of his tie only enhanced the flush over my skin. Thin faintly black tears raced down my face.

I was a mess.

A disgusting mess that somehow made my knees weak all over again.

”You’re such a good artist, husband.” The phone fell to the blanket under us as he burst out laughing.

His thumb linked under my chin when he kissed the life out of me.

”Needed to at least put my signature on my work, yeah?” I laughed back at him and he planted more kisses on me. Then he untied my hands.

They fell to the bed and my eyes widened. I still hadn’t gained much control over my body.

”It’s okay,” he whispered and brushed my hair, my sides.

”I know,” I sighed as I rose from my subspace.

“I’m right here, love. Always right here.” He kissed my skin as I came to.

”Is it gross that I don’t really want to shower?” Colby laughed again.

”I’m not sure,” he teased and sat back to his knees to look at my body again. “I mean, if you take a shower with me I’ll wash you for you.”

”Yeah, with your tongue like you did this morning?” A fond smile.

”I’ll wash you, I’ll touch you, and I’ll make you feel good however you want, my wife.” I smiled. We both couldn’t get used to—get over—the titles.

”Fine, then carry me to the bathroom, my husband.”

✧˖*°࿐

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#colby brock #sam and colby #sam golbach #18+ only #minors dni #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #rosie writings #rosie hub

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canthelpit0 · 11 days

Text

Enemies (With Benefits) PT4

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 4K +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of insomnia, mentioned nightmares/dreams, slight facial dysmorphia (if u squint), mentions of crying, slightly toxic, party, use of y/n, nickname (cherry), pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc), fight (not graphic), switching, unprotected, creampie (she’s on the pill)

(A/N: hope you guys like this! got the idea from this request. Tysm again <33)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Everything with Chris is so unnecessarily complicated.

Why does he act like a little bitch sometimes. Coming to my house, begging me and than being all sassy and annoying.

I let out a harsh scoff when I accidentally smudged my mascara a little bit. Rolling my eyes I pick up a make up remover and a cotton pad to clean up my mistake.

I’ve gone back to ignoring Chris, for my own sake. And he’s stopped attempting to talk to me fully.

I’ve been sticking to Ethan a lot recently. Just staying by his side and all.

We were both invited to this party. But we were both gonna Uber there separately.

I was thinking of getting wasted tonight. I haven’t done that in a while. The last party I’d been to was the party Evelyn forced me to go to.

Evelyn and I haven’t talked much, due to me distancing myself. But she hadn’t tried to reach out either. I’m sure though, that she’ll be at the party.

Having finished my make up now, I look at myself in the mirror. I color corrected my red eyes from crying, well. That as Well as my dark eye bags from sleeping bad.

I was never the type of person to cry a lot. But recently… i was crying because of Chris. But I hate him. Yet he was making me cry, wishing that he was here to comfort me

I hum a tune that’s been stuck in my head.

I just wanna rub my eyes harshly, and just start crying again. I’ve been dreaming of Chris. All in different scenarios.

Sometimes we fucked, cuddled, or even argued. Other times he was with charlotte; or someone else. And other times I was with someone else and saw him in the corner of my eyes.

I’ve been sleeping bad at night, so occasionally I’d have naps after school. Wich didn’t really help much since I’d dream again.

I sigh staring back at myself. And it feels like the more I stare into the mirror, the more my face morphs and changes. That doesn’t look like me.

I purse my lips. My hands slam on my vanity as I aggressively get up.

I let out a harsh sigh moving away from the vanity.

I get a notification from my phone, notifying me that my Uber is here. I snap out of my trance. Honestly I’m so glad that that caught me off guard because I actually might’ve broken that mirror if it hadn’t.

I grab my tiny handbag and shove my phone into it. Then I just walk outside.

Once I’m in the Uber again I drift away in thought.

Chris had done nothing but mess with me, since I’ve known him. Since forever.

Now I’m in my tiny dress, my ass probably showing slightly when I walk, and I’m gonna get laid from someone other than Chris.

Maybe I can obsess over someone else.

And maybe I can finally remember that Chris is not the only human with a dick. And not the only one who can use it.

Before I knew it we were already there. I could hear the slight music from outside blaring into the car.

I tip the dive and finally get out the car.

I heard the car speed say behind me. While the house party in front of me had loud obnoxious music playing.

I swing open the door. I sigh at the tight crowd of people and just decide to card through them.

I’m getting Deja vu from this really. But last time I’d been here I’d seen Chris almost fuck charlotte, and than proceed to fuck me.

Chris..

Chris?

I raise an eyebrow staring back at a person across the room. He was dancing a solo cup already in his hand.

Okay so I was extremely late, so what.

I need to stop going to parties ‘fashionably’ late. By the time I arrive everyone is already wasted.

I purse my lips pushing through the drunk teenagers to get to the kitchen. From where I was standing I could still see Chris.

I need to stop thinking about him.

But how could I do that when he is just a few feet away, probably drunk and dancing with charlotte.

I turn to the counter grabbing some random liquor and pouring it into a, presumably, clean solo cup.

I down half of it in seconds. I need to feel the rush. I need to get drunk.

Honestly I could go looking for Ethan, but than I’d probably hang out with him in the backyard and smoke all light. Or I could find myself some good dick.

★ ★ ★

After a good few drinks I was dancing with some dude. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.

This would be a simple hook up.

Before I know it he starts to guide me outside mumbling something to me about how we can fuck at his house.

And honestly I don’t know why I let him drag me out of the party.

I don’t really want to hook up with him, I want Chris. But I won’t stop him either. I don’t care to.

Suddenly we stop walking. And within seconds I feel his hands off of me, and a loud cry echo through the night air.

I turn around to see what’s happening.

It was Chris. He’d punched my possible hook up guy. My mouth falls open. I want to say something. To tell Chris to fuck off and leave. But I want Chris.

I don’t pay attention for one second and suddenly the guy is on top of Chris beating him up.

I can see from their faces that Chris had gotten a few punches in too though. The guy was taller and bigger than Chris. And I remember something about him being an American football player or something.

Chris manages to flip them around beating up the guy. They wrestle on the ground while I just stand there stupidly and watch.

My drunk brain was processing this way too slow.

Suddenly I see Ethan come into my field of view trying to separate the two on the ground, without getting involved.

I feel another presence next to me. And it’s charlotte. The girl looks as shocked as me. but she also looks more sober.

I snap out of my trance, my slow brain having finally caught up.

I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to tell him to back off. And once he does I pull them apart. And they let me.

I yell at both of them about how stupid they are to make a scene like this. Both of them look down in shame.

I turn fully standing in front of the random dude. I slap him across the face and tell him to fuck off.

After that everything is a blur really. Once I somehow got Chris to my house, and up the stairs without waking my siblings, we stand in my bathroom.

Chris is sitting on the closed toilet seat. I sprint downstairs really quick to get him some ice, because, half his face was definitely going to be blue by tomorrow.

Once I’m back I put some alcohol on a cotton pad gently dapping it in his skin as he occasionally takes in harsh breaths.

“Why would you hit him?”

I sigh. That’s the first question I’ve asked since we’ve gotten here.

He holds the ice on his cheek, while I tend to a wound on his forehead. He wasn’t cut up too badly though. It was just a fist fight after all.

“Because he was going to take advantage of you” he scoffs as if the answer to that was obvious.

I purse my lips. Honestly I was subjecting myself to it. I was literally begging for anything, I would’ve been fine with that.

“You had no right to intervene.” I purse my lips. I take the alcohol from the sink and put it back in its place in the cabinet.

I help him up. Chris wasn’t walking bad, I just wanted to touch him.

We walk to my bedroom where he sits down on the bed, and I once again stand between his legs.

I take the ice out of his hands to look at his cheek to see how bad the damage is.

And after a moment I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He berries his non-bruised cheek into my stomach.

“You don’t get it cherry” he sighs, relaxing more as he touches me. “He was looking at you in a weird way.”

“Like what?” I ask. My hand goes to his head. I card my fingers through his messy brown hair.

“Like an object.” He mumbles so lowly, I barely even understand it.

“Oh and you don’t?”

The question is asked flatly. I just look down at him blankly not thinking anything of it.

“No.” He pulls away to look up at me. He looks at me like he is insisting he’s telling the truth.

“I may be rude, but I never look at you like you’re an object.” He scoffs at the accusation. He rolls his eyes hard.

“You don’t?” I ask flatly, not bothering to even act surprised. As much as in hate Chris, he doesn’t treat me bad. Necessarily. He’s just a dick.

He grumbles disagreements turning his face fully into my stomach as he keeps holding me closer.

He starts to complain about his head hurting, and how he fought someone for me and whatever.

I pull him off of me slightly. I was still holding the ice in my hand. It was a bunch of ice cubes I had put together onto some towel.

I slowly sink to my knees between Chris’ legs. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Want me to take your mind off of things baby?”

I ask in a mildly mocking way. But I was dead serious.

Chris lets out a shaky breath. He tugs his shirt off, quickly throwing it off to the side. “Please” he sighs out.

I tug at his belt trying to undo it slowly, to tease him more.

“God I’ve missed you so much.”

His breaths are shaky. His eyes close for a moment. He was getting so worked up and bothered already.

“Have you?” I ask teasingly. He purses his lips slightly staring down at me. He undoes the button on his jeans and finally slides them down.

I help him take them off fully. Then I toss them away.

I look up at him watching him, as he sat only in his boxers in front of me.

“Fuck, you gonna be all submissive like last time?” I mock still looking up at him.

“Cherry, don’t tease please.” He sighs looking down at me.

I stand up quickly and turn to face away from him. Since the dress was a halter dress. I pull my hair to my from teasingly.

“Be a sweetheart and undo this for me real quick.” I don’t wait for long. His hands find my upper back undoing the string of the halter.

I turn back around again letting the top fall, revealing my lacy bra underneath.

I wiggle the dress around a little bit to slide it down. I slip out of it and then kick it away. I was standing in front of him in my matching lacy bra and thong sent.

His eyes trail my body. He looks hungry and needy. Looking submissive as ever.

I lean down to help him take his boxers off. And once he does I sit back down between his legs.

I look up at his dick. And it’s the only one I’ve seen in a while. It’s the only one that I’ve ever found pretty.

Never thought that was possible. But here we are.

The tip was the same red as he has on his cheeks. He was painfully hard and it had pre cum leaking.

I cup it in my hand starting to teasingly slowly jerk him off. “Y/n/n, cherry, please” he whines loudly, to wich I stop my movements.

“Chris” I hiss under my breath my expression harsh. I slap his thigh for a moment to catch his attention. I squeeze his cock lightly.

“My siblings are home. Shut the fuck up”

I hiss. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but my siblings are younger than me. 4 and 5 years. Me being 18, they’re 14 and 13. They don’t need to hear my childhood friend that they have also known for ages get fucked.

“Sorry, sorry” he huffs under his breath. I watch as Chris leans back in his arms looking down at me.

I take one of the ice cubes from the ice in the towel. I then proceed to put it right on his aching tip.

He flinches at the contact of the cold ice in his burning hot skin. I grin at the reaction, watching the way his dick twitches.

“You’re such a tease” he scoffs, to wich I just chuckle.

I drag the ice cube down his shaft before putting it back on the towel with the other few ice cubes. I knew it was gonna melt but honestly I couldn’t care less.

I start to jerk him off slowly again. I lean down to place a peck on the tip, and then proceed to suck him off slowly.

I swirl my tongue only keeping the tip in and staying teasingly slow.

I hear Chris let out a sharp huff, throwing his head back.

“Come on, ma” he says under his breath. His hand snakes into my hair, Slightly gripping at it. And then he harshly pushes me down, making me deep throat him for a second.

I choke on it for a second. Chris starts to move my head, yanking on my hair. I was deep throating him roughly.

I keep my hands on his thighs and pull off. “Don’t” I huff pushing away his hand from my hair, And then smoothing it down again.

I go back to licking a teasing stripe up his shaft, before I go back to deepthroating him, jerking off what I can’t fit in my mouth.

“Ma- I’m-“ he sighs. He was leaning back on his arms his head thrown back. He was trying so hard to keep his moans and groans minimal and as quiet as possible.

I pull off and chuckle. I kiss up his sensitive shaft while looking up at him. Then I get up and hover over him.

I connect our lips in a deep passionate kiss. And while I continue kissing him I lean over starting to straddle him.

Still while kissing him, I start to slowly sink down on his length making both of us moan.

When he bottomed out in me I pull away. My hands go to his shoulders as I just sit there for a moment.

My cunt was aching at the stretch. I had to get used to it again, since we hadn’t hooked up in a while.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone other than Chris in a while. And the last time I had it was not nearly as pleasurable as when I did it with Chris.

“So good for me, baby” I mumble under my breath leaning in more as I wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands trail over my thighs to my hips to hold me.

“Just for you ma.” He mumbles back. We’re so close I can feel his soft breath in my face. He just looks so kissable right now. With his lips plump and swollen like that.

“Oh yeah? Didn’t get pussy from someone else, hm?” I say again my tone low and harsh.

I start to gently grind into him. His hands on my hips don’t stop me or help me either.

“Fuck-“ Chris’ breaths are heavy as he tries to keep his voice low. “You’re the only girl I’ve been fucking.” He admits lowly, the blush on his cheeks only deepen.

“Oh, am I?” I mock as I start to slowly lift myself. I start to ride him, his hands on my hips only being there to steady my movements.

“God- you’re gorgeous” he breaths out staring up at me. His eyes stay locked on mine.

One of His hands starts to trail up my side. And once he reaches my bra, he pulls my body closer to him so he has better access to undo it.

Both his hands back down to my waist now actually helping me ride him harder.

I clench my teeth my moans coming out as sharp breaths as I try to keep quiet. I’m doing a better job than Chris is though.

I put a hand on his mouth to muffle his groans further.

“God- you’re doing so good for me baby.” I pant under my breath, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. My hips pick up pace even more. I continue moving, his tip pressing against my cervix repeatedly.

He mumbles back an agreement, my hand still keeping him quiet.

I continue to ride him at a harsh pace until I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter, ready to snap.

“Chris- I’m so close-“ I breathe out trying to keep myself from moaning.

Chris gently takes my hand from his face putting his own hand on my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“C’mon ma, come for me” he bites his lip. leaning back slightly, he watches as I do all the work. “Go on, get off on my cock”

My pace starts to become more messy and uncontrolled. Chris was also not helping, doing nothing except keeping his hands on my face.

With a muffled moan I slam myself down one last time. My head falls forward as I feel my orgasm wash over me. I feel warm and so relieved.

He takes his hand from my mouth, he then leads me to him by my neck and presses our lips together.

His hands both go back to My waist. just holding my body close to his.

I could still feel him rock hard in me. I knew we weren’t done, but I was appreciating the break.

Chris pulls me off gently and picks me up. He turns us around so he is on top of me.

Us fucking in missionary was always rare as hell. Because we’re there for the benefits. -And according to Chris, he hates my face so much he doesn’t want to see it.

well at least that’s what he used to tell me.

He slides his dick through my folds, before slowly pushing in.

I sigh feeling him fill me up again.

In our enemies with benefits situation we never did anything that felt intimate. The sex felt like sex, and not love. And that’s how it worked. It was good like that.

But like this, Chris, his blue eyes staring right into mine. The way he kept his hand at the curve of my waist, his other hand holding him up placed next to my head.

We were so close, I could practically feel him breathing on my face.

This felt so intimate, like something we, as people who hate each other, shouldn’t be doing

And that’s exactly what it was.

Well I guess we already made the first mistake when we first hooked up.

We were never meant to be. Not like that. Not like this.

So why did it feel so good though?

“You good ma?”

Have I been staring? Probably. But how can I help myself when he is so close to me, looking ever so handsome.

“I’m good. Please move” I whine trying to keep my voice low.

He sinks down, his face burying in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. All slow and sensual.

we barely ever did missionary, and when we did, his face was as far away from mine as possible. But right now it seemed like he was trying to be as close to me as possible.

He occasionally groans into my skin, sending tingles down my spine and right to my aching core. I try to keep my voice low, but still let a few soft moans slip.

“Y/n?” He says abruptly. He keeps up the slow sensual thrust, keeping himself buried deep. Yet he sits up slightly, his forearm next to my head holding him up.

“Mhm?” I say lowly not really trusting my voice.

Our eyes lock. Chris swallows. My eyes trail his features, trailing down to his chest, to his lips and back to his eyes again.

“Can I come in you?”

I raise my eyebrow at the question. Usually we used condoms. I mean I’m on the pill but according to Chris he ‘doesn’t want to take any risk’. But recently we had done it like that more than we had since the whole arrangement started.

“ ‘corse” I mumble back.

And before I know it Chris is picking up pace. He doesn’t move back, keeping himself hovering right above me our eyes connected.

My core was aching from all the over stimulation. So I shudder when he picks up pace.

He still keeps his strokes sensual and deep. I moan lightly, cautiously keeping my voice low.

He re-adjusts my legs, wrapping them around his torso for a deeper angle.

He picks up pace even more. I throw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure, my eyes closing, my mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Chris doesn’t even bother to make me look back at him. He just lets me enjoy this, and watches. Watches the way I look with my head thrown back in euphoria.

“Chris, Chris- chris-“ I keep my voice low but the more I chant his name the higher and squeakier my voice gets.

Chris takes that as a telltale sign that I’m close, but so was he.

He cups my mouth shutting me up. or atleast muffling my moans and whines.

He picks up pace even more. My eyes go back to meet his, my eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.

I tap his wrist to tell him I’m close. He licks his lips. Of course he knew I was close without me telling him.

His hand stays firmly on my mouth, keeping me quiet. “You’re doing so good, cherry”

His other hand goes to my clit in order to finish me off quicker. He rubs it harshly.

Suddenly I throw my head back again, clenching around him. I feel my release wash over me again.

He keeps pounding into me. But his thrusts get more sloppy and uncontrolled. Until his hips stutter. He gives me one last thrust before his spurts of cum shoot into me.

My legs are tense around his torso from the overwhelming pleasure.

I feel warm and so filled. It felt way more intimate than the countless times we’ve hooked up before.

And the fact that he stays there, collapses on top of me, his face in my neck, gently kissing, And not moving off, only made this feel even more intimate.

After a long while of just cuddling, and being in each other’s presence, Chris sits up. He gently and slowly pulls out, making me wince at the loss of contact.

He stares down at my cunt for what feels like a long time. Until his pointer and middle finger meet it again. Pushing the seed that was leaking out of me back in.

“Chris” I hiss my body shooting up. I was now half sitting my arm propping me up, my other hand going to circle his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.

“Awe poor baby does that hurt?” He huffs in a slight mocking tone. But for once it doesn’t seem menacing.

“Yes. don’t do that” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles at the sassy tone. “Well I gotta make sure you don’t waste it.” He sasses right back.

Chris already prepared for the worst outcome.

“I’m still on the pill.” I huff. I then slowly pull his fingers out of me, seeing the way they were covered in a whole lot of our mixed juices.

He chuckles popping his fingers into his mouth.

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A/N: I loved writing this series. But it’ll probably only have one more chapter (so 5 in total). This was my first ever series, and it was so fun to write. Love y’all. My dms & req are open 🩷

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @t1llysblog

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