#drug added patient | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkshort · 15 days

Text

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us au #pedro pascal character #joel miller one shot

1K notes · View notes

running-with-kn1ves · 3 months

Text

Okay but a darling who tries their hardest to "fix" and train their yandere. They put up with every bloody, obsessive shenanigan in the hopes that they can have a semi-regular relationship with the person they thought they were dating. You see, everything was fine the first month of the honeymoon phase-- regular cute dates and normal presents like bouquets and nicknacks-- even if they were overly frequent. It didn't take long for Yandere's true colors to show, possessiveness chaining Darling to their home and rushes in relationship milestones that normally take years to achieve.

By the third month, Darling has moved into their Yandere's home. Sure, it's fast, but how else are they going to alter a bloodthirsty stalkers' bad habits? But Darling didn't realize how much of a chore it would be to handle their Yan 24/7. Other than the constant reassurances of love and physical affection, they have to talk them down from murdering any coworkers or adding a military-grade security system to the home in an event of Darling trying to escape break up with them.

"I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

" I love you, there's no one else, how could you accuse me of that!"

Even with Darling complying continuously, wearing the ankle bracelet their Yan begs them to keep on, not leaving (or atleast, not telling Yan when they do) the house without their loving spouse-- Yandere still has paranoid visions, imagining footsteps at night, clothes that belong to them that they think are from another. But Darling is persistent, denying any sort of sneaking around and consoling their Yan in the process. I mean, who could sneak around when all they do is think of and take care of someone else continuously? And even when Yandere gets threatening, drugging takeout that was supposed to be a fun surprise and keeping Darling in the basement for a week, Darling always waits patiently for them to come back to their senses, to negotiate and bribe their way back out when Yan brings meals and requests cuddle time.

Maybe once or twice they've worried about being murdered, but they know their Yandere just loves too much, has too much affection for them to rationally contain. So they see the beast as tameable, talking them down off ledge after ledge, never bolting even with open doors and free feet. But will that be enough to convince their Yandere, to satiate their fear of abandonement and desire to trap before their prey can even think of escaping?

2K notes · View notes

leejenowrld · 4 months

Text

ghostin' (one)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 14.4k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

synopsis after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings very broken, fragile, weak, intoxicated mc (not so much in the 1st chapter just wait lmao) cute friendship moments, girl moments, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (f receiving) overuse of ‘baby,’ ass slapping, daddy kink, size kink and training, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, groping, fingering, nipple sucking, a moment (the girls playing matchmaker) which teases all the other fics in the series which you can see about here, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note haerin is the protagonist (y/n) in my one shot mfal, which can be read here. she’s a side character in this so i wanted to give her a name so avoid confusion for myself lmao. but you can still imagine haerin as mfal!y/n. also there’s a lot of jeno and haerin in this chapter, a lot of friend moments, girl moments, jaemin only makes an appearance at the end. please stay patient and trust me!! the wait is worth it. he comes in at the perfect time :) i wanted to make this more friendship group based and explore the side characters compared to mfal, so :))) enjoy. also hana is heejin now from mfal! i changed her name, sorry about my bad planning, this is the second story that i’ve ever written (mfal my first) so i’m still learning and making mistakes. hana is an og so i didn’t wanna give her a popular idols name!! still need to change her name in mfal lol

part of neo heartbreaker series, same universe as mfal but can be read as a standalone. comment to be added to the tag list for future parts!! this is a 4 part series

“i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, over him, i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, instead of ghostin’ him”

playlist ariana grande ghostin, prettymuch phases, ghosting txt,

♥♥♥♥

“Jeno told me to show you this.”

You point your phone in Haerin’s face, eyes closed as she grips the device in her hands, mouth watering as she lets out a sigh, fighting her urges but she gives in, whining about Jeno’s ‘monster cock’ and how much she loved and missed it, how she wanted to fuck herself dumb with it… something like that. You chose to drown her words out. Hana let’s out a sound of realisation from beside you, understanding why your eyes were closed. It’s because you didn’t want to see Jeno’s cock.

“Why is he sending you that photo?” Hana asks, eyes puzzled.

“It’s because Haerin is ignoring all his texts and calls so he told me he’d make me my favourite dinner for a week if I shoved the photo of his cock in her face.” You explain, Hana giving you a knowing nod. Who would refuse that offer? Lee Jeno belonged on master chef.

“Well you can tell him he can shove his cock in his own mouth.” Haerin shakes her head furiously, words high pitched and spoken with anger. She sneaks a final glance and lets out one last whimper before handing you your phone back.

You nod, fingers typing away.

you - she basically said fuck you and that you can shove your own cock in your own mouth

jeno - bet my baby was moaning at the photo though. i know what she’s like

jeno - needy slut tries to act like she doesn’t want me when she’s mad at me

jeno - when she wants me even more

you - seems like something you should text her!

jeno - bitch that’s the point she’s ignoring me

“I'm gonna kill Jeno." You look up from your phone, your gaze shifting to Hana as you share amused glances, spotting a very annoyed and pissed-off Haerin sitting opposite you both in the canteen. It's been a long day of back-to-back lectures, and Haerin has been frustrated throughout them all. Uncharacteristically, she hasn't been paying attention in class, even though she's easily the top student and smarter than every single one of her peers.

She swirls her noodles around with her chopsticks, more focused on her irritation than her meal. "Why did he leave so early this morning?" You question.

"You tell me." Haerin exclaims, her voice raising a few octaves as she shakes her head in frustration.

"Wait, why are you pissed off at him again?" Hana asks in confusion.

"It's Jeno."

“Yeah I know, I asked why –”

"He was about to go down on me, but then he got an 'important' phone call, said sorry and left." Haerin explains with a huff. "I say 'about,' but he was already inside of me! He had just put his cock into me and then left before he started fucking me!!!!" Anger seeps through Haerin as she recalls the incident.

You and Heejin share a look, raising your eyebrows and holding back a laugh. Haerin and her boyfriend, Jeno, have a lot of sex. They're intimate every day, and he practically lives with you three girls. You admire the fact that they're deeply in love, evident to everyone around (and sometimes heard), but you're also put off by how frequently they engage in sexual activities. You and your roommate Heejin have become too accustomed to walking into any room in the house and seeing Haerin getting her back blown out.

“I need him so fucking bad that I’m genuinely kill the next person I see if they’re not him. I’m so fucking stressed right now and getting my back blown out by him is the only solution. I just need him to slap my pussy and my ass and spit in my mouth. I need him to choke me and I need his cum in my mouth or in me!!! Fuck I need his babies. I just need his cock shoved down my throat, I need him to wipe the drool from my cheeks after I’ve sucked him off, I need him to fuck my throat, I need him to tie my hair up for me and move the strands that get stuck in his mouth when I’m sucking his cock.”

Hana lets out a loud laugh at how the chatter on the tables surrounding the three of you had silenced completely, obviously in reaction to Haerin’s loud and incredibly sexual words. She usually had no filter when it came to the desires she shared with her boyfriend.

Haerin cries out, scrolling through photos on her camera roll and you wish you wouldn’t have glanced her way but you’re pretty sure you see Jeno’s cock grace her phone screen, (you also wish you didn’t know what it looked like.) Your eyes widen in shock as she lets out the loudest and horniest moan you’ve ever heard, she wasn’t even trying to conceal it, clearly not caring about who hears. Her mouth waters at the photos she has of him saved on her phone.

Haerin continues complaining, staring down at her noodles with a scowl, gaze moving to her phone once again and rapidly scrolling through the photos. "We haven't had sex since like… last night!"

You huff, contemplating how Haerin, if in your shoes, would likely struggle. The memory of your last intimate encounter, five months ago, casts a shadow, and a momentary sadness clouds your features. Shaking off those feelings, you ignore Hana’s observant gaze – she notices everything. How is she so observant? You disregard the look she's giving you, hoping she won't give it any more attention.

A sigh of relief escapes when Haerin continues to complain, Hana’s attention shifting.

"I'm going crazy.” Haerin breathes heavily, her eyes widening. "I keep crossing my legs, but nothing feels like him."

Her voice and expression turn darker. "I wanted to cut his dick off, especially when he kissed me and said he'd make it up to me."

Your eyebrows raise. "That's quite sweet, though?" You've seen the way Jeno kisses Haerin. If you were ever kissed like that, you'd melt. You'd complain about nothing. The heavy feeling overtakes your heart once more when you remember that once upon a time, you were kissed like that.

"Isn't this the third time this week it's happened?" Hana questions.

Haerin nods immediately. "He keeps saying sorry, telling me he can't tell me where he goes off to, but I know where he's going and who he's seeing. He doesn't need to tell me to know."

"And I know you guys already have an idea. If you think about it, it's not difficult to figure out."

The three of you say "Jaemin" unanimously.

"I swear you said that the only time he'll leave you mid-sex is for one reason... it's Jaemin.” Hana mumbles. Her attention is more focused on taking Haerin's chopsticks from her hand, swirling around her noodles, and then feeding her. Irritation almost overtakes her at the sight of Haerin staring down at a plate of empty food.

"Has he fallen off the face of the earth?" You question, thinking about the last time you saw him. You didn't know Jaemin that well. All you knew was that he was the best friend of your best friend's boyfriend, and he occasionally hung out with the group. But you don't think you've heard him mutter more than three words, ever. He was quiet and didn’t like speaking, there was nothing wrong with that, you was like that too..

When you don't get an answer, you return to reality and find a choking Haerin, obviously struggling to eat her noodles. Hana swiftly hits her back and offers water to ease the situation. Once the scene simmers down, Haerin, with a few chesty coughs, explains, "Jeno's not telling me everything because he has this sworn secrecy not to air out his best friend's personal life and problems to his girlfriend. But from the small things I've seen and heard around, I hear that Yeeun dumped him –"

"I heard that Yeeun cheated on him and he's literally on his death bed, depressed and getting high all the time," Hana whispers.

"I heard that she left the country and he tried to follow her." Haerin whispers back. The two of them go back and forth on rumors and speculations, which you observe, choosing not to get involved. Instead, you lean back and watch with a grin. You were never too interested in partaking in gossiping and bitching; it wasn't your thing, but you don't deny that hearing it was always good.

The gossiping comes to an end when they realize they're getting nowhere. You and Hana both turn to Haerin with a sigh. "Why can't you just ask Jeno? He obviously knows."

Lee Jeno, the one who harasses you with cock photos, Haerin's boyfriend, Jaemin's other half, they’ve been connected and attached since they were kids. The bestest of friends. Brothers. If Jeno isn't with Haerin, he's with Jaemin. It's a bromance that's heartwarming and sweet – two guys who are platonic soulmates. He obviously knows what's happened with Jaemin.

Haerin shakes her head. "He's not telling me. He's told me little bits, but he's being so vague. I've asked so many times."

"I even did my really cute 'no no' and puppy eyes smiling look, but he didn't budge. You know how I can make him do anything once I call him 'no no,' but it didn't work this time, so whatever happened is pretty serious."

You look at her astonished. "Why? I thought you told each other everything."

"Yeah, we do. If it's concerning him, he'll never keep it a secret from me. But he's told me it's unfair to air out his best friend's business like that. Jaemin's obviously told him the entire Yeeun situation with secrecy, and I'm sure he'll be hurt if Jeno just tells his girlfriend everything he trusted him with. It sucks to open up and become vulnerable only for everything you've said in trusted privacy to be shared."

You both still look confused. Doesn't having a boyfriend mean the 'don't tell anyone' rule doesn't apply to him?

Even though Haerin is admittedly annoyed at Jeno, she'll always defend him. "Look, I see where he's coming from. Something's happened with Jaemin, and it's clearly Yeeun. I'm worried for him, and obviously Jeno is. That's why Jeno is always going over to him, even when he’s about to put his dick inside of me." She rolls her eyes, accepting the fact that Jeno would drop anything for his best friend.

“Hey! You three come over right now!”

You and Hana turn around at Haerin's call, scanning the surroundings to spot Yangyang, Shotaro, and Xiaojun. The scared looks on their faces are evident even from a distance, a clear response to Haerin's tone and directness.

"We don't know anything." Yangyang quickly states as he takes a seat opposite you, anticipating Haerin's impending interrogation.

"You don't even know what Haerin's gonna ask you." Hana chuckles, playfully teasing the boys.

"I know we're about to get an interrogation.” Shotaro responds, the corners of his lips lifting as he grins sweetly at Hana, who ruffles his hair. Eric has now joined the table, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and sits with you guys without a word. Come to think of it, that's what Eric was—someone who just appeared from nowhere.

You watch with a laugh as he leans his head toward Hana, silently pleading for her to do the same to him and ruffle his hair. However, she just shakes her head and focuses her attention on Shotaro. You smirk, well aware of Eric's crush on Hana, a fact not hidden from anyone at the table.

Turning to your side, you find Xiaojun taking a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. He offers a soft smile and a greeting, followed with a series of caring questions. "Are you okay? Have you eaten? Did you sleep well?" His genuine concern warms your heart.

"I did. I'm doing okay, Xiaojun, really." You reassure him, hoping he believes your words. You glance briefly at Hana, who gives you a knowing look and wiggles her eyebrows, hinting at something you try to downplay. You roll your eyes nonetheless, dropping your head to his shoulder, yawning and letting your eyes flutter shut but the loudness will make it impossible to nap.

Haerin cuts through the air, your attention shifting to her. "If you guys know where Jeno is and you're not telling me, then I'm seriously gonna cut and boil each and every one of your dicks. Starting with my boyfriend."

The threat hangs in the air, but Shotaro, ever charming, sweetly questions. "Shouldn't you know where your boyfriend is?" Shotaro asks sweetly, his dimples on full display. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the beanie on his head, the thick layer of sleepiness evident in his voice. His charming smile and undeniable cuteness make you coo, prompting you to pinch his cheeks gently. Confusion flickers in his eyes as he wonders why everyone always showers him with affection when he feels he hasn't done much. However, the collective looks of endearment directed at him from all corners of the table convey the unspoken truth—he's effortlessly lovable, no effort required.

"We all fucking know where he is. He's with Jaemin, and he has been with him ever since Yeeun did her shit and fucked him over like the heartless and selfish bitch that — anyways — Why the fuck are you acting like you don’t know where Jeno is, Haerin, don’t you guys tell each other everything?” Yangyang asserts, frustration evident in your words.

Hana’s eyes light up. "You boys know! You know what's happened with Jaemin."

"Yes, we do, and we're not telling you. It's no one's business. Plus, you guys clearly already know; Jeno told Haerin, which means she told you.” Yangyang responds.

"Jeno hasn't told me!!!! Oh my god, how many times do I need to tell you guys?" Haerin exclaims, her voice raising and whining due to reaching full frustration.

"I'd be kinda worried if I was in a relationship and he didn't tell me everything—"

Haerin is a testament to defending her boyfriend even when she wants to cut his dick off. “He tells me everything that I need to know, everything that concerns me and him. There's no secrets with that stuff. He just doesn't air out other people's business to me. My boyfriend is honest and fair. Plus, I'd never tell him anything personal about you guys. There have been so many times you guys have confided in me about something personal and private and promised me not to tell anyone, and I haven't. And I would never. Telling my boyfriend my close friends personal life isn't something I'd be proud about; it's disrespectful and crossing boundaries. We both have a mutual agreement to that. There are standards and expectations in our relationship."

Xiaojun nods, laughing out loud. “If you know why he's not telling you, then why are you bothering us and trying to get the information from us?"

"Because I'm not perfect and I'm a nosy bitch, okay? Happy???? Plus, if I heard it from you guys rather than Jeno than he’d have nothing to feel guilty about and it would satisfy my craving to know everyone’s shit.” Haerin exclaims dramatically, truthfully revealing her nosy intentions. Suddenly, she groans and loudly slams her head on the table, shedding real tears when she realizes one of her nails from her set has broken off.

♥♥♥♥

Later that night, the comfort of your own house embraces you after a long day of classes. You and the girls gather on the sofa, indulging in your favorite rom-coms, creating an overall cozy evening.

Haerin, as usual, is talking about Jeno. You can't find it in you to get annoyed; she loves him, and sharing her happiness is second nature. She excitedly recounts the details of one of the many expensive getaways he took her on.

"We went skinny dipping," she begins, "He fucked me in every corner of the cabin we were staying in. The kitchen, the lake, on a blanket outside by the lake, against the wall of our room – we actually broke the bed and had to pay extra for it."

"Oh, and we did it in the bathroom and the shower a lot. I remember he was balls deep inside of me, he had made me cum for the sixth time in a row, and we were both close to falling down and fainting. He was fucking my cum back into me then he told me he wanted to marry me be the father to my children. We didn’t use protection for that entire day and he kept trying to fuck a baby into me. Thank God I didn’t get pregnant. He was quite high at that time and although I wasn’t, I was on my 6th orgasm. We were literally ready to be parents at that time… that’s what good sex does to you.”

You and Hana widen your eyes at Haerin. She always shares stories about their very intense and loving sex life, sometimes she even shows you videos and photos, you never look at them the same way after hearing it all – especially Jeno. He's a freak

“You guys are… on another level.” Hana laughs.

"You guys are the cutest." You smile for Haerin, masking the twinge of loneliness and heartache you feel. It's selfish, but seeing your best friend so happily loved up hurts, even if you're genuinely happy for her.

Haerin notices your silence and sends a sweet smile your way, patting your head and asking if you're okay. You can tell she feels a twinge of guilt, especially when she offers her way of making you feel happier.

"Let's get you with someone!" she claps her hands excitedly, trying to play matchmaker.

"Nooo," your hands make a crossing motion, but she won't listen. Once her mind is set on something, it's set.

"Yes!" Hana claps happily, and you huff when you realize you're outnumbered.

Haerin starts listing potential bachelors. "First of all, there's Donghyuck – hot and he knows it. A bit of a lost cause, but he's fearless and obviously good in bed! You're the opposite of him – more sensible and mindful, you can guide him in the right direction, like me and Jeno!"

You shake your head at that idea immediately. "He's high 95% of the time. He isn't serious. Plus, I heard he's got his eyes on that girl. What's her name again? She's the older sister of Jieun, used to be popular but now she’s the typical rebel. She's kinda rude.”

Hana offers her batch of men. "Okay, then... Yangyang! He's cute, he's –"

"He's gay," You laugh as you watch her realise it. “He’s gay and I don’t know if he knows it yet.”

Haerin's eyes light up when she thinks she's found the man. "Mark's cute! Smart, nerdy, apparently has a big cock and is really good in bed. Plus, he's sweet, emotionally mature, and just recently broke up with his girlfriend –"

"He's in love with his best friend.” You mutter. Mark and his best friend have been attached to the hip since birth, and they're also in love. They're both just oblivious idiots, but somehow everyone around them knows.

“There’s Xiaojun, he’s boyfriend material and he definitely wants to fuck you.” Hana nods to you, rolling her eyes when you shake your head at her amazing idea.

“He’s sweet but he’s such a fuckboy… he wants to fuck everyone.” You respond, truly not wanting to get involved with a player. You stray far away. He was one of your closest friends and you did trust him with your life but that was emotionally. You knew his sexual side was another side to him that you quite simply didn’t want to get involved with. It was unexpected how much he rolled around in the sheets. Plus, he was one of your best friends!

Hana scratches her neck and whispers to Haerin, "This is hard."

Haerin grits her teeth in pure frustration. "There are so many guys at ‘Neo Culture Technology’ but at the same time, they're all either gross or unavailable."

"Who's left?" Heejin questions.

"There's Shotaro – but apparently, he's got a thing for that really hot Wonbin guy. There's Eric – but he's in love with Hana. There's Sunwoo – but he's in love with me. And I can't think of anyone else. There's Jeno, but if you touch him, I'll kill you," Haerin starts giving the rebuttals herself.

"Eric is not in love with me.” Hana tuts, shaking her head in denial.

“Yeah and Jeno’s not in love with me.” Haerin rolls her eyes dramatically, speaking in a sarcastic tone, trying to emphasise how naive and oblivious Hana was.

"Also, Sunwoo's stopped trying to chase after you. Jeno scared him away forever." Hana laughs, but you widen your eyes in slight fear, remembering the night when Jeno put an end to Sunwoo's dreams of having Haerin permanently.

Haerin however dreamily closes her eyes at the memory. "My man."

"Wait, there is someone else. Jeno gave me this idea, and I didn't get it then, but I do now. It's Jae –"

Speaking of the devil, the atmosphere shifts as Jeno casually strolls in, exuding a magnetic presence. His confident gait and tousled hair give him an effortlessly cool appearance. His eyes, a warm and inviting shade, immediately soften as he reaches Haerin.

Greeting everyone with a charming smile, he seamlessly moves toward Haerin. The room becomes a canvas of love as he leans in to kiss her softly. Arms looped around each other, they share endearing whispers, lost to the outside world.

A bittersweet feeling washes over you as you witness their intimacy. Yet, the mood takes an unexpected turn as Haerin gasps, extricating herself from Jeno's embrace, adopting a dramatic stance.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you! You dick!!!!! Leave me again during sex and see what happens. You will have no dick." Haerin warns, forcefully putting on a pissed off voice and expression. You know this was her acting and being dramatic, She found it easier to melt into his arms rather than hold a grudge against him, you understood it. I mean, have you looked at Jeno?

You and Hana share an amused expression as the scene unfolds. Jeno's playful silence only serves to annoy Haerin more. She huffs at his smirking demeanor, her words stumbling initially but gaining clarity. "Can you tell this man that he can sleep outside tonight?" Her arms crossed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she faces you.

Nodding, you face Jeno. "Haerin said that you're not allowed to sleep with her tonight."

Jeno tuts, responding with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Can you tell Haerin that if that happens, then she'll come to me in the middle of the night and beg to ride my –"

Haerin cuts him off, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. "Can you ask him why he's in my house?"

“Haerin asked why are you –”

“Y/N, shut up.” Jeno says seriously, warning you not to speak.

“Hae, I’m in your house because you gave me a key for our anniversary." He explains, his eyes soft as he reaches for Haerin's hand, attempting to make her melt into him but he widens his mouth when she doesn’t take his hand like he expected her to.

"Baby." He whispers, his voice a soft and tender melody, likely to make her heart flutter. Despite the softness in his tone, she remains resolute, dodging his attempts to kiss her.

"Why are you mad?" He questions, shaking his head in confusion. Haerin persists with the silent treatment, prompting him to turn to you and Hana with a light-hearted chuckle.

"It's because she wanted you to shove your dick in her throat, but you left." You inform him with a nonchalant tone.

Jeno, with a determined look, works his magic on her. He gently takes Haerin's hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away. His smile, radiant and affectionate, speaks volumes, a sight capable of soothing any emotional ache. His eyes, dreamy and captivating, have the power to make anyone melt.

His voice drops to a low whisper as he utters sweet promises into her ear. "I'll make it up to you, all night long.” He vows, kissing the sides of her cheeks. A low moan escapes Haerin's lips, catching you by surprise. Was she that horny?

You and Hana turn to each other with wide eyes when you hear intense smooching noises and passionate sighs and moans. You take that as your cue to leave.

You walk back in 2 hours later, and they’re still making love on the sofa. You turn to Hana with a playful smirk, congratulating yourself internally when she pays up. You bet that it would take Haerin less than a day to let go of her grudge, and it did.

“I didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” Hana sighs, defeated, giving you the money with a frown.

“She always does with him.” You respond.

“I would too.” Hana smiles. The two of you turn to each other with a playful smirk. “I mean, have you seen the way he manhandles her? Have you seen his cock?”

“Unfortunately.” You mumble.

“It wasn’t unfortunate for me.” Hana bites her lips and sighs dreamily.

♥♥♥♥

The morning air is filled with the tantalizing aroma of Jeno's pancakes, a comforting scent that wafts through the entire house. Sighing in relief, you're grateful that it's Jeno preparing breakfast, saving you from the potential culinary disasters that Haerin or Hana might unleash.

The lively chatter in the kitchen reaches your ears before you step in. "I will put the two of you on a sex ban!" Hana warns, yawning as she has another night of insomnia to add to her list.

Chuckling, you enter unnoticed, preferring to remain a subtle presence in the background. You stroll in with a laugh, savoring the fact that they're oblivious to your entrance. Being the subtle presence in the background suits you well – there’s no need to draw attention to yourself; it's just the way you like it.

Jeno, however, breaks the pattern and spots you immediately. You smile when you see Haerin attached to his back, arms around him as he cooks up.

He turns around, flashing a grin and offering a nod. "Good morning, princess. Finally got up?" His tone drips with playful mockery for no apparent reason.

You respond casually, "I've actually been up all night, thanks to two particular people rolling around in the sheets."

“It was actually against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, in my car, on the sofa, on her chair and against her desk. I had her arched against the kitchen countertop too. We did it in the bed the least.” Jeno sighs, nonchalantly reminiscing about his night of passion with his girl, leaning down and kissing her on the head, slapping her ass and keeping his hands there, squeezing every now and then.

“Fucking hell. All that in one night?” Hana questions, wondering how that’s even possible.

“As if that’s the most they’ve done.” You laugh.

Haerin passionately complains, "You guys are complaining, but I didn’t get any sleep either! He had to carry me downstairs and I can barely feel my thighs, I don’t know how I’m standing up right now. I’ve woken up with a hundred bruises on my body because of this man–

"Babe." Jeno swiftly interrupts, shaking his head at how it sounds.

"We get it. He's a rough lover.” Hana responds, pleading with her hands and begging Haerin not to share more of her intimate stories with him.

Jeno prods his tongue against his cheek. "Loving and passionate is how I like to say it.” He corrects Hana with an affectionate smile.

You smile at the heartwarming scene unfolding before you. In moments like this, the pain in your heart doesn’t attack you so brutally. Jeno’s in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast for everyone, and, as per usual, Haerin is attached by his side.

Meanwhile, Hana and Jeno engage in a playful bicker about the correct way to make pancakes (though you’d never admit it to Hana, you secretly prefer Jeno’s pancakes by far). Jeno then presents you with a plate stacked high with beautiful pancakes, adorned with your favorite syrups and fruits.

“Just the way you like it.” He says, and your mouth waters at the enticing sight.

“You better finish every last bite or else.” Jeno playfully warns, adopting a protective brotherly tone. It’s a side of him that has emerged over time. He was there when Hyunjin dumped you, he saw the state you was in, he saw how detrimental your health became, how you were neglecting meals. He witnessed he toll it took on your well-being. His increased care and protection over you hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Now, you’re surrounded by people who genuinely care about you, you’ve come a long way from those difficult days. Despite the strides you've made, the battle persists. The grip of your drinking habits remains firm, and solitary hours in the dark persist. Yet, amidst the struggle, there's a genuine improvement. You compel yourself to believe in the progress, even though the vulnerability still lingers. The fear persists; one trigger, one misstep, and the possibility of crumbling back to the depths looms.

They flash warm smiles your way while you savor your meal. Surprisingly, they haven't even started on their own food.

"You're all weird." you quip, narrowing your eyes as you playfully lock gazes with them, your cold expression meeting their endearing ones.

♥♥♥♥

Jeno is casually perched on the countertop, methodically dipping his sushi into a pool of spicy mayo before guiding the chopsticks to his lips. The furrow of his brow reveals his deep focus on the phone in his hand, typing away with practiced ease. Just as he's about to indulge in a bite, he abruptly halts, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifts to you three girls.

The widening of his eyes is evident as you initiate a circling formation, you’re a trio of inquisitive troublemakers, with a determination to unearth the mystery about Jaemin that he's hiding. Despite Jeno's clear reluctance to spill about Jaemin and his ex, you girls, fueled by curiosity, launch an attempt to pry the information loose. Hey, nobody's perfect. You’re all nosy!

A palpable sense of fear colors Jeno's demeanor as the three of you unite your efforts. Questions barrage him, but he remains resolute, shaking his head with a firm "no" and countering every inquiry with a blunt and direct response. "All of you, stop it. If I said I'm not telling you what happened, that means exactly that."

In the face of Jeno's unwavering stance, Haerin's frown deepens, and yet, Jeno's expression softens, he swiftly pulls her onto his lap with one arm and feeding her the sushi on his chopsticks, kissing her cheek softly. "Look, it's not my place to tell you personal things regarding Jae. It's not my story or my heartbreak. As much as I'd love to spill the tea about what a selfish and heartless bitch that Yeeun is—"

“Yeeun is so sweet, though.” You cut him off, a hint of disbelief in your voice as you register the language he’s using. His expression shifts abruptly, turning hard and cold almost instantly.

“You’d think.” He laughs, but the disdain in his face tells a different story. He despises her, a revelation that catches you off guard, considering she was his best friend’s girlfriend for the longest time.

Jang Yeeun, a girl in the year above, is a vision of beauty that triggers a twinge of envy within you. Whenever you catch sight of her on campus, it’s as if she belongs in a magazine. Her smile, breathtaking and radiant, could light up any room. Her blonde hair, so luminous and silky, seems to catch the sunlight in a way that leaves you in awe. It’s no wonder she’s popular – sweet and undeniably attractive. She’s always smiling and she radiates such a brightness.

Jeno's annoyance intensifies, a scowl etching across his face. His cheeks flush with frustration, and his eyes darken with a mixture of irritation and discomfort. The tension is palpable as he digs his nails into his palm, a physical manifestation of his inward turmoil.

Observing Jeno's visible agitation, Haerin, perceptive and caring, notices the telltale signs. She reaches out, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb, and in a gesture filled with intimacy, she plants a soft kiss on his lips. Concerned, she mumbles. “You okay, my love?”

He responds with a whispered assurance that he's fine, urging her not to worry. His lips find their way to her forehead in a tender kiss, a silent expression of gratitude for her understanding. “I love you.” He whispers against her forehead.

"I just don't wanna talk about Yeeun.” He mutters, the words escaping in a low murmur that carries the weight of unspoken emotions. The intimacy of the moment contrasts with the underlying frustration, creating a complex interplay of feelings within the scene.

Jeno, quick to change the subject, does anything to help the anger in his heart pass. "Anyways, you three are invited to my party. I'm throwing it for Jaemin."

Immediate reactions unveil the distinct personality differences among you and your friends. Hana nods enthusiastically, fully on board with the party vibe – much like Jeno, she loves getting high and wasted, finding joy in nights where memories are non-existent.

Haerin, on the other hand, frowns, turning to face her boyfriend and shaking her head. "Another party?" She questions, her preference leaning towards cozy movie nights, cuddling Jeno, and ordering takeaway. The contrast between her and Jeno is striking, making you ponder how these opposites found each other.

Your reaction remains impartial, but confusion is quick to find a voice. "Huh?" You question, expressing your bewilderment at his idea. "Isn’t he currently heartbroken and struggling to get through each day? You think a party is the solution?" Your words hang in the air, a reflection of your practical and contemplative nature compared to the contrasting preferences of your friends.

"Shut up.” Jeno shoots his eyes in your direction, a clear signal for your voice to be silenced.

Haerin’s eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. Seriously? She’s turned on right now?

"My man needs some pussy.” The crude statement hangs in the air, and you huff as you realize the reasoning for the party. Of course, people always hook up at Jeno's parties, and it gives him immense pride – he loves being the matchmaker and now he wants his best friend to have rebound sex.

"That's really not—" You begin, only to be shushed by Jeno.

"You're throwing the party for that?" You inquire, a mix of disbelief and amusement coloring your voice. “Can’t you just set him on a blind date or something?”

"Yeah.” Jeno responds simply, a sly smirk playing on his face as he crosses his arms defensively. His eyes light up with humour as he senses your scepticism. He laughs. “Jaemin and blind date? Do you even know him? He’ll never show up to that shit.”

"He's gonna hate the party.” You laugh, anticipating Jaemin's reaction. “If he won’t turn up to a date then you think he’ll turn up to a party?”

Jeno, however, gets defensive, a sly smirk still playing on his face as he challenges you. "Suddenly, you know him better than me?" His voice carries an edge, a playful challenge.

When you don't respond, the tension deepens. "Oh, I get it." he continues, his tone implying that whatever he says next won't be pleasant. "You're jealous. You don't think there's any point in throwing him a party because you're here?"

The accusation hangs in the air as he pushes further, daring to ask, "You want him? You wanna fuck him?"

"Fuck off, Jeno." You assert, shaking your head in frustration at his relentless words. He was a pain in the ass.

He continues, pushing his blunt perspective. "It makes sense. Hyunjin dumped you, and then Yeeun tore Jaemin's heart out of his chest with her tacky and disgusting spider fingers and then stepped on it—anyways, you both need good rebound sex. It's better than moping around, crying in the sheets all day when you could be getting your bones jumped in the sheets."

You cut Jeno off, your voice raised in defensiveness. "You don't know what I need." You mutter, defensive goosebumps rising on your arms at the harsh yet uncomfortably true nature of his words.

He shrugs. "Just trying to help. Maybe you should fuck Jaemin; he's really good in bed."

"Maybe you should fuck off, Jeno." You retort, rolling your eyes at his audacity.

Haerin begins scolding Jeno for his behavior as if you weren't there. "Don't talk to her about him. She's still dealing with the heartbreak. How will she fuck Jaemin so easily if all she wants is Hyunjin?" Their words sting, leaving you feeling unsettled. Is this how your friends see you – as weak and fragile?

However, Jeno's honest words bring slight comfort. "He's a fucking idiot, and I want to talk about it. There's no point not talking about what happened, bottling it up and not communicating will just fuck everyone's heads even more. He's not some sacred God whose name shouldn't be spoken; he's the opposite, he's a fucking dickhead. If I see him again, I'll punch him like I did that one time when he was making out with that girl in front of you. He's a cunt, and I'll help you kill him."

"Thanks, Jen." You say, a genuine smile breaking through. Gratitude washes over you – at least someone gets it. He returns your gratitude with an understanding smile, providing a flicker of solace in the midst of emotional turmoil.

Jeno, the master of redirection, skillfully changes the subject. You sigh in relief when the conversation finally shifts away from your heartbreak. He turns to Haerin, locking eyes with hers. "You're coming to the party, and I don't want to hear no."

Haerin huffs, her face dropping – she's not a fan of parties, a sentiment she doesn't hesitate to show.

Without giving a direct response, Haerin's silence prompts Jeno to poke further. "If you don't come, then no sex for a week. He threatens, adding a playful edge to his attempt to convince her.

“You think you’re the one who proposes sex band in this relationship?” She questions, eyes a siren as her voice deepens. It was true, she had Jeno wrapped around her little finger.

"Why do you want me to come so bad?" She asks, curious about his motives.

"Because don't I deserve to get laid like Jae?" Jeno says with a smirk. "I'll only have fun if you're there." You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky remark, fully aware of his regular romantic encounters towards her.

You observe as Jeno leans in, whispering sweet words into Haerin's ear. Whatever he says seems to work like a charm. "Fineeee. I'll come but only for you," Haerin relents, a playful smile crossing her lips as she succumbs to Jeno's persuasive tactics.

You observe them closely, a genuine smile gracing your face as they share a sweet and joy-filled kiss. Their cute smiles and the affectionate atmosphere only contribute to the happiness you feel while witnessing the scene. “He’s probably gonna fill the tables with your favourite wine.” Hana playfully predicts.

Later that night, in a hushed tone, Jeno whispers to you, revisiting the topic from earlier, "You know I was joking around earlier, but I do really think it's a good idea if you move on and fuck Jaem."

"I don't want that or need it." You mumble in frustration. "Sex isn't the solution to every problem."

"Yeah, it is." Jeno interjects with a confident nod and a smirk.

You roll your eyes. "You're just obsessed with getting your dick wet. You think fucking solves every problem."

“In Haerin’s pussy, to be exact. I’m obsessed with getting my dick wet in her pussy.”

Haerin, who has been silently observing the conversation, tuts and playfully hits Jeno on the head. "Stop acting like that. You know when we argue, first of all, we talk about it, explain ourselves, and communicate our emotions, and then we have the best sex of our lives." She scolds him.

Jeno only smiles, not responding to Haerin. Instead, he turns to you with a smirk. "You should think about what I said though. It's a good idea."

"It's so random. I mean, I've never spoken to Jaemin once." You express, noting the mystery and introverted nature of Jaemin, someone you've only exchanged nods and smiles with.

He was a complete stranger to you, shrouded in an air of mystery and introversion. Your interactions had likely been limited to nods and smiles. He didn't go out of his way to engage with people, preferring to keep his circle small and interactions to a minimum, only when necessary. However, you couldn't help but wonder why a connection never formed between the two of you. He seemed to be on good terms with everyone else in the group—Jeno, Haerin, Hana, Eric, Mark, Yangyang, Xiaojun. It left you questioning the unspoken distance between you and him.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Jeno turns serious, looking at you with empathy. He shares a revelation that sends a shock through you, "It's not really that random. Apparently, Hyunjin's sleeping with Yeeun." He whispers, offering a sweet smile while Haerin rubs your back, looking at you with caution.

Your throat dries, and your vision blurs at the news. You force the words out, "Oh—how—how did you find out?" The stutter in your voice betrays your attempt to sound unaffected.

He doesn't answer directly, a regretful expression crossing his face. You're grateful he shared the information, knowing it's better to be aware than blindsided by the painful truth later.

"Y/N—" Haerin begins, concerned, but you cut her off, pretending not to care.

"I'm fine." You mumble, excusing yourself to the bathroom. Once there, the façade crumbles. The scene unfolds with you crying, water splashing on your face, your hands feeling foreign. Your heart falters, dizziness and sickness overwhelming you. Your head shakes violently as you hope for an end to this torment. As long as your heart beats for Hyunjin, someone who betrayed you, you fear being broken forever.

♥♥♥♥

You girls got ready in preparation for the party ahead. The bond you and your girls shared made getting ready together a cherished ritual, a source of laughter, and a confidence boost when you needed it the most.

Haerin took charge of your hair, her skilled hands transforming it into a sleek, silky cascade. The soft hum of the straightener filled the room as she worked her magic, creating a look that exuded confidence. Hana couldn't help but gush about the result.

The encouragement from your girls always provided a much-needed confidence boost, especially in those moments when it mattered most. "You look so beautiful and hot!!! If you’re not in someone’s bed tonight then I’m gonna get you in mine.” Hana exclaimed, her words laced with genuine admiration.

“Let’s do it.” You turn around and wink at her, giggling when she leans down to kiss your cheek.

With your hair done, the focus shifted to Hana, and you eagerly joined in to help with her makeup. You concentrated as you applied eyeshadow to her eyes, a black smokey shadow look that complemented her features flawlessly. You paired it with a red lip. She looked hot. She beamed at the mirror, hugging you tightly and smooching your head once again, clearly satisfied with the look, you can’t find it in you to be mad at the lipstick that stains your hair.

You then turn your attention to Haerin's outfit choice. You couldn’t believe how slutty yet elegant her wardrobe was, it was truly a mix of the extremes. She had the tiniest of skirts that barely covered her ass cheeks but then she also had elegant and pretty long dresses, you guess she wore whatever she felt like on the day.

After a moment of contemplation, Hana and you helped her decide on a pretty pink mini dress that will catch everyone's eye. You tie her necklace around her neck, giving her an array of bracelets and rings to accentuate the look. As Haerin slipped into the dress, a hint of uncertainty crossed her face.

"Can you see my ass cheeks through it?" Haerin whispered, turning around and tilting her head towards the mirror, attempting to gauge the view.

"Yeah.” You chuckled, admiring the hot pink lace thong peeking through the thin seams of the tight dress, "but you look incredibly sexy, Haerin."

Haerin's face lit up with a shy smirk at the compliment. "I'm not gonna change it. Jeno loves this thong so much.” She shared mischievously, "It’s my way of getting him to take me home as early as possible and to get out of this party."

You watch with a laugh when she tries to take a mirror selfie with her ass in the camera lense, Hana silently takes her phone from her hands and assists her, not being able to watch as she struggles, the two of you sharing an amused look when Haerin starts texting away on the phone, blushing when she shows you the texts.

haerin - [photo attachment of her ass cheeks]

haerin - what i’m wearing tonight baby :)

jeno - it’s see through?

jeno - you know my hands will be on your ass the entire night?

haerin - i’ll be disappointed if they weren’t :(

jeno - you know i’m just gonna rip that off you?

haerin - that’s why i’m wearing it

jeno - you just wanna get out of the party as soon as possible, don’t you?

jeno - funny of you to think that i’ll take you someplace private to fuck you when you know that i’m more likely to let the whole party hear you moaning my name

jeno - anyways do you need me to pick you up beautiful

haerin - no baby hana’s taking us

haerin - see u soon <3

Moments later, the trio of you made your way to Jeno's house. The house exterior exudes sophistication, with sleek lines and expansive windows that hinted at the luxury within. Upon entering, the richness of the house enveloped you.

Immediately, an electric atmosphere pulsated through the air. The party was in full swing, as expected from the notorious extravert and party thrower. The space was alive with a sea of people – some familiar faces from campus, others unknown.

The place was packed, almost bursting at the seams with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic beats of thumping music that reverberated through the walls. It was a sensory overload The air was thick with the lingering fragrance of smoke and other substances.

Amidst the crowd, Jeno navigated his way through effortlessly, exchanging smiles, nods, and handshakes with friends and acquaintances alike. It was clear – everyone knew Jeno, and Jeno knew everyone.

Jeno quickly spots you, his already dilated pupils widening further. Haerin immediately becomes the focus of his attention and they share a greeting that evolves into an affectionate embrace. He lifts her up, her legs wrapping his waist and his hands find her ass cheeks immediately, his grip tight and firm. As sucking face noises fill the air, leaving you to awkwardly glance around.

Sensing your discomfort, Hana finds you, squeezing your hand to guide you away. However, you unexpectedly bump into familiar faces, and your face lights up with genuine joy. "Yeonjun!!" and "Soobin!!" escape your lips as you greet them, hugging both with grins that reflect the warmth of your reunion. The genuine happiness in their eyes mirrors your own, and you've genuinely missed having them around. They seem happier than ever, forming a couple that could rival Haerin and Jeno.

In the past, Yeonjun was your fourth roommate, and Soobin was always a constant presence. Now, you feel proud seeing them take the next step in their relationship, having moved in together. Their new flat stands as a beautiful testament to their love. Yeonjun is about to drag you somewhere; however, your escape is interrupted by the arrival of the troublesome trio—Renjun, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They greet you with hugs, but mischievous glints in their eyes make you prepare yourself. They’re a pain in your ass before they even speak up

“There’s no fucking way you actually came.” Renjun exclaims, speaking louder than he needs to, each word marked by his intoxication.

Xiaojun was your sweetheart. “You look beautiful.” He kissed your cheek, his sweet words causing flutters in your heart as you smiled up at him with gratitude . You wrap your arms tightly around him as he whispers in your ear. “Missed you.”

“Never thought I’d see the day where you stopped moping around, crying in bed, and actually got off your ass to have some fun!!” Yangyang adds, he’s the only one who’ll be honest and upfront with you, his tone blunt which can come across as mean.

You force a smile, concealing the sadness that lingers within. Despite understanding that he intended for his words to be harmless, there's a lingering ache that suggests your friends might still perceive you as fragile. So what if you weren't in the mood for a wild party? You didn't find solace in the bottom of a bottle or in the haze of substances to cope with heartbreak. And yet, here you are, navigating the sea of unfamiliar faces and the thumping beats that echo the sentiment of your own muted heart.

A tender ache fills your heart. Haerin is like you, shy and reserved, yet the difference lies in the way her vulnerability seems to be guarded by an unspoken shield. You've noticed the whispers that never reach her, the kindness that eludes her gaze, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

In the soft glow of the room, Haerin rests in the secure embrace of Jeno. Their eyes lock, unspoken words passing between them. Their smiles radiate a genuine warmth, an intimacy only for them. In this moment, you realise the unspoken truth – no one targets Haerin. She carries an invisible shield, woven from the threads of love and protection that Jeno provides.

A melancholic frown plays on your lips as you question silently: will you ever find an embrace like theirs again? One where vulnerability is met with understanding, and the world's harshness is softened by the warmth of love. It's a yearning that echoes in the quiet spaces of your soul, a desire for a connection that feels as secure and enveloping as the one you witness.

Parties are overwhelming for you, with their throbbing beats and lively chatter; however, the free alcohol makes it worth it. The liquid courage momentarily hushes the heartbreak and pain, providing an illusion of security in a world that often feels too tumultuous to navigate.

Amidst the pulsating music and vibrant chaos of the party, you find solace in the repetitive ritual of downing drink after drink. The fiery liquid drowns down your throat, leaving a burning trail that momentarily numbs out the whirlwind of emotions within. In the midst of the swirling lights and distant laughter, the free-flowing alcohol becomes the singular silver lining, the only solace you seek in the crowded abyss.

With each sip, you sink into the familiar embrace of intoxication, a sanctuary where vulnerability is masked. The glass in your hand transforms into a shield, shielding you from the prying eyes and unwelcome questions that linger in the shadows. It's a ritual, a coping mechanism that had recently become ingrained in the fabric of your existence, a way to drown out the dissonance of emotions echoing within.

The sensation of getting high and drunk becomes a substitute for the unspoken emotions that remain buried deep within. It's a fleeting escape, a momentary reprieve, where the clinking of glasses and the hum of the crowd momentarily drowns out the echoes of your own struggles. In this sea of temporary numbness, the allure of the next drink beckons, promising a brief sanctuary from the storm within.

You settle onto Xiaojun's lap, feeling the warmth and comfort of the familiar position, both legs on either side. A giddy smile plays on your lips, thinking nothing of it – you always do this was him, it was just another moment of closeness between you two. You were both always touchy and you thought nothing too much of it, it was natural, you assume he thought the same.

Little do you know, your presence on his lap subtly transforms his entire demeanour, leaving him momentarily speechless. You tut and shake your head when you feel his hardness prod against your thigh, a teasing comment escaping your lips. "Really?"

He’s shrugs. "Not the first time you’ve made me hard and not the last." He murmurs, his eyes dark as he rubs his clothed cock against you and you jab his arm. His eyes turn soft as he looks at you. Unbeknownst to you.

You find sanctuary on Xiaojun’s lap, observing the party unfold around you. Mark and his best friend catch your eye, seeming unusually close as they dance with whispered words and foreheads pressed together. Your eyes widen in surprise when you witness Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun engaged in a three-way kiss. Maybe Yangyang has embraced his sexuality, or perhaps he always knew. Your gaze shifts to Haerin and Jeno, on the sofa, trying to conceal that she’s riding his cock but they’re not fooling you. They’re entwined in each other's arms, lost in their own world of affection. Then Donghyuck, looking incredibly close with someone you didn’t realise and you wonder, has he finally found the girl that’s grounded the wildness inside? You lean back against him with a grin, the familiar ritual of the hot alcohol burning down your throat as you observe everyone.

He lets out a weary sigh as you down another drink, the overpowering scent of alcohol swirling around him, momentarily drowning his senses in an intoxicating haze. "Instead of drinking, you can always just talk to me.” He suggests, concern etched in his voice. "I always tell you, I'm here for you." Xiaojun leans in to kiss your forehead, his gaze holding a mix of care and understanding.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you shake your head, eager to change the topic. "Let's dance!" You exclaim, trying to lighten the mood. Xiaojun sighs, having just become comfortable with his hands gripping your thighs. He enjoys being in your presence, away from the busyness and loudness, and reluctantly agrees to join you on the dance floor.

You tossed expectations aside, party you did. You cheer at the top of your lungs, dancing close to Shotaro and Eric, the whole group surrendering to the music. Your arms flung up, and you let loose in the wild rhythm of the night.

The beats were relentless, matching the reckless abandon as you downed drink after drink, head held high in the haze of the party. You don’t realise how hot you look when you allow yourself to have fun. Drunk on both the music and the drugs, you remained blissfully unaware of eyes following you like a shadow – he wants you.

The lightheadedness sets in, and you can already sense the impending headache that will haunt you tomorrow. Later in the evening, you find yourself inches away from Xiaojun's lips, dancing with closeness, Let loose. Jeno's words echo in your mind – maybe he was right, and you do need a rebound.

Let loose. You glance over to see Eric and Hana taking their passion to the sofa, dry humping in the midst of an intense makeout session. Their uninhibited display stirs a desire in you to embrace the same level of outgoing freedom. Hana finally gave in to Eric’s want of her.

Let loose. You trust Xiaojun, one of your closest friends, you know he won't push it further; you're not ready for that, and he's aware. He knows that you’re only looking to rebound and have a good time. you know he knows. At first you was sceptical, he’s a fuckboy but that means he’s not serious and isn’t looking for any commitment, just what you need.

Your emotions are fucked, Hyunjin still has a control on you. You miss him, you want to see him, you want to forget about him, all you want is him. Longing to forget, you desperately wish the grip he has on your heart would release. Xiaojun, smiling and wasted, nods. You’re both on the brink of closing your eyes, ready to lean in but he's like a magnet, drawing your gaze into the distance. You see Hyunjin, the truth unfolds before you. The man who still holds your heart with his tongue shoved down someone else's throat.

Everything comes crashing down, the raw reality hitting you like a tidal wave. The reckless escape you sought in the party, the dance, the drinks – it all pales in comparison to the harsh truth that pierces through the night. The man you once shared an intimate connection with is now lost in someone else's embrace, and the weight of that realisation hangs heavy in the tumult of emotions.

Jeno was right— the lucky girl was Yeeun, Jaemin's ex. As you caught sight of her, envy gnawed at you like a persistent ache. Yeeun, with her radiant blonde hair, possessed a beauty that felt enchanting, almost ethereal. Her presence seemed to cast a captivating spell, leaving you mesmerised yet resentful.

Her blonde locks framed a face that radiated an undeniable allure, making every movement she made seem effortless and captivating. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a certain grace, intensifying the envy that gripped you. In her presence, you couldn't help but feel like an observer to a scene where she effortlessly stole the spotlight.

Time halts, and you find yourself frozen in the moment. Desperation takes hold as you bite your tongue with a force that rivals the pain in your heart, attempting to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Despite your efforts, tears stream down uncontrollably. Suddenly you’re sober again; the drinks no longer provide an escape, instead it works to intensify the emotions, making everything a hundred times more poignant.

In an abrupt decision, you make a swift exit. Xiaojun, sensing your drop in happiness, attempts to follow, but you halt him with a silent plea. You’re grateful that he’s not sober or else he’d follow you.

The feeling of invisibility intensifies – no one pays attention to your breakdown. It's not a plea for attention, but in these moments, it seems like you're navigating this emotional storm alone. Hyunjin remains oblivious.

Navigating through the crowd, you find solace in an empty room. As the door closes behind you, a switch flips within. The facade crumbles, and you break down in a way you haven't allowed yourself to before.

Take a moment to collect yourself, leaving the room with the unsettling realization that going home might be the best option. The desire to avoid running into anyone on your way out is fueled by a doubt that anyone would even notice your departure. You don’t stand out. No one notices when you’re not there.

As you move through the hallway, your eyebrows rise at the unmistakable sounds echoing through the seemingly thin walls – loud moans, skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging, and the unmistakable noises of passion emanating from not one but two rooms.

This is Jeno's house, a place you've visited before. You can easily discern that one of the passionate pairs comprises Jeno and Haerin, obviously now in the comfort of closed walls. Unfortunately, you're all too familiar with the unique way they express themselves when they fuck, given Jeno's frequent nights spent at your house.

You hear Haerin's unrestrained cries of ‘daddy’ at the top of her lungs, audible every minute. Your eyes widen, she’s genuinely calls him that more than his actual name ‘Jeno.’ The absence of any attempt to mask the sounds with music speaks volumes about their boldness. To your surprise, the door is left slightly open, revealing an audacious lack of secrecy, these freaks want people to watch and hear. Your didn’t want to look but you glanced before you even thought about it. You nearly choke at the way he has her body bent under him. How the fuck can a human body move in that way?

The sounds from the other room trigger a quick realisation – it has to be Na Jaemin. After all, this is his house too; he shares it with Jeno. Recalling that the party was intended for Jaemin to find rebound sex and move on, you acknowledge Jeno's fair play in orchestrating a night where Jaemin seems to be thoroughly enjoying his time.

The stark difference in the way both couples fuck becomes unmistakable. Haerin and Jeno, unapologetically basking in their love, make no effort to conceal themselves, fucking openly for anyone to see and hear. On the other hand, Jaemin and his mystery girl attempt to be more calculated, trying to mask their moans with loud music but it doesn’t work. It seems like you’re witnessing an unintended competition of who can emit louder moans (it’s Jeno).

Before you spot Jaemin, his voice reaches your ears, introducing you to a side of him you never expected. This is not the same introverted, quiet guy who usually utters no more than three words in a conversation or lingers silently in the background, fading into all the buzz. His words, unexpectedly crude and filthy, pierce through the air.

"Scream my name then, go on."

"You didn't say please?"

"Such a tight cunt."

"So wet for me."

His voice, low and deep, transforms his entire persona, a sultry air that causes a rush of heat surges to your cheeks, and you find yourself blushing uncontrollably. You squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t make sense but also makes so much sense. It's a revelation, leaving you grappling with the realization that this is the same guy you thought you had figured out – a quiet introvert who has now revealed a whole different side of himself in the throes of passion.

As you prepare to leave, shaking your head at how distracted you became, your steps halt when Jaemin's bedroom door swings open right in front of you. The initial sight that catches your attention is how he’s practically naked, the only thing he has on is tight boxers and you’re wondering, why are you unable to tear you gaze from the sight? You also notice the multitude of hickies adorning his skin, he has cum all over his body.

His heavy breathing and a glazed look in his eyes suggest he's not fully present, as if dwelling in another realm. There's a palpable sense of disorientation, a dizziness that separates him from the pulsating beat within his own chest. Jaemin appears not just physically spent but emotionally detached, lost in a world beyond the immediate surroundings.

His features strike a harmonious balance between softness and sharpness, creating a visage that is both captivating and alluring. His dark, tousled hair adds a touch of casual charm to the overall allure.

Yet, what intrigues you most are his eyes—deep and penetrating, yet tinged with an emptiness. Despite recent intimate engagements, the light seems to have eluded his gaze, introducing a layer of complexity that adds to the enigma surrounding him.

This is a side of him you never expected to see—it’s almost like it’s not him. The eyes you're looking at reveal a detached and broken person, so out of it that he doesn’t even see or notice you at first.

As your gaze shifts downward, his toned chest, sculpted abs, and peaks make your mouth water. His physique is undeniably attractive and hot, creating a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil reflected in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His voice crashes into the moment, causing you to snap back to reality. The sudden sharpness catches you off guard; his tone is darker, more blunt than you ever expected.

"The party's downstairs. I swear to God, I told Jeno not to let anyone come upstairs—"

You attempt to respond, but your throat feels dry and stuck, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can collect your thoughts, Jaemin takes the lead.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice softens instantly, concern washing over his face as he furrows his brows, carefully assessing your expression.

"I—yeah, I'm fine," you lie, the words escaping through gritted teeth.

Jaemin shakes his head, skepticism evident. "Obviously not true."

He shakes his head slowly, his expression a mix of concern and disappointment. "How much have you had to drink? You look a mess.” He admits with blunt honesty, his perceptive eyes seeing through the facade you try to maintain. He studies your flushed cheeks, the slight unsteadiness in your movements, the glaze over your eyes. the rosy tint of your complexion and the way your words occasionally stumble.

A gulp is your only response as you glance at your reflection in one of the mirrors against the wall. The sight is a disheveled mess—smudged makeup, tears still streaming down your cheeks. The emotional toll and crying have become so familiar that they seem like your default state. You only now realize that you're still crying.

"I—I'm sorry.” You mumble, the words coming out pathetically, struggling to find your voice.

Jaemin's eyes soften, and he offers you a sweet smile, twisting something inside you. You can't help but wonder why he's being so kind.

"What are you sorry for?" He chuckles.

"Is it Hyunjin?" He asks, his voice low and whispered, a hint of caution present as if he's mindful about uttering that name around you.

Jaemin stands there, visibly awkward, scratching his neck and desperately searching for a lifeline to rescue him from the situation. His eyes dart around, unsure of how to navigate the emotional turbulence around you. He subtly rolls his eyes in the direction of Jeno’s room, they were still fucking.

In a fumbling attempt to offer some comfort, Jaemin starts a motion, perhaps to retrieve a tissue from his pocket. Then, the realization hits him—here he is, practically standing naked in front of you adorned with hickies and remnants of cum. His eyes widen in a mix of surprise and embarrassment, but you shake your head reassuringly. "It's not a big deal."

Your gentle voice acts as a balm, stirring something within him. His eyes lock onto yours, and in that unspoken exchange, there's a shared understanding. Jaemin's thumb delicately grazes underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears from your delicate skin.

"Fuck Hyunjin.” He whispers, his voice soft and tender yet carrying a sharp edge of hurt and anger on your behalf. You nod in response, a genuine smile naturally forming on your lips. In that moment, as Jaemin expresses both solidarity and indignation, you feel an unexpected sense of settlement.

What is it about Na Jaemin? You’re left pondering, did he even know your name? This is someone who you never expected to be so kind and respectful to you, you’ve heard endless stories about how he’s quiet and doesn’t talk but you’re seeing a whole different side.

He continues wiping away your tears, and you can't believe you're still crying. The weight of vulnerability starts to lift, making room for a mix of bitterness and a twinge of sadness in your voice as you mumble, "Our exes are fucking."

You wonder if Jaemin already knew, as he doesn't react with sadness or shock. Instead, his facial expression remains void and unchanged. You can't help but envy how he maintains such control over his emotions. All the times you’ve seen him, he’s had one expression on his face, nonchalant and unbothered.

“How are you not reacting?” You cry out more than you wanted to, perplexed as to how he has such a tight control on his emotions. You envy it, you wish you could be like him.

“Come with me.” A surprised gaze lingers in your eyes as his suggestion hangs in the air. He nods towards his room, and you can't help but feel a flush of red creep onto your cheeks. The first thought that leaps into your mind raises questions – does he want to sleep with you? It seems plausible, given the fact he had just been fucking and that this party was thrown to help him find a rebound. What if he sees you as another opportunity?

"I don’t wanna fuck you.” You whisper back, the words leaving your lips with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation.

Jaemin shakes his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates the notion that you believed he was suggesting something more explicit. "I didn’t say that was going to happen. Do you want that to happen?" He teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head, awaiting your reaction. However, you evade giving him a response, breaking eye contact.

"I should be getting home anyway.” You mention, attempting to steer the conversation away.

"How are you gonna get there?" he probes further.

"Hana said she’ll take us, if not then Jeno –" you begin, but he cuts you off with a knowing smirk.

"Hana is shit-faced high downstairs and fucking Eric on the sofa and we can still hear Haerin screaming 'daddy,' so obviously Jeno's busy." He interjects.

"Then I’ll just walk home." You assert.

"It’s 1 am." He points out. “Do you know how dangerous the street are at this time?”

"It’s 10 minutes away.” You counter.

“Just come into my room.” He suggests with a confident assurance, the conversation steering in a way you didn’t expect. The straightforwardness catches you off guard.

"Just trust me.” He murmurs, his words something you're willing to trust. Weakness washes over you, you don’t have anything else to lean on. The prospect of going home in isolation, with only your broken heart and the lingering drink in your hand as companions, feels unbearable.

Without much contemplation, you nod, surrendering to the solace he seems to offer in the unknown. “Ok.” You mumble, your response sealed with a hint of anticipation.

Jaemin's room is painted in a rich midnight blue, creating a calming atmosphere. The walls are adorned with posters of indie bands and artistic prints, showcasing his eclectic taste. Muted gray decor complements the deep blue, and lights strung along the walls provide a soft, ambient glow. A well-organized desk sits against one wall, littered with notebooks, a laptop, and scattered pens. The minimalist furniture, including a sleek bed with monochrome bedding, adds a touch of simplicity to the room. Various trinkets and souvenirs line the shelves, hinting at Jaemin's interests and experiences.

Numerous photographs cover one section of Jaemin's room, creating a nostalgic collage on the wall. The alcohol in your system blurs the faces, but the emotions captured in each snapshot are vivid. Smiles, laughter, and shared moments freeze in time. Your vision may be hazy, but the warmth of those memories makes you smile.

Your heart pounds when you realise there’s an unexpected sight—a half-naked girl perched at the end of his bed. Shock and embarrassment wash over you, she’s the girl you heard him fucking earlier.

“Get out.” Jaemin's stands with crossed arms, watching her exit with impatience. You recognize her as Karina, a girl from your year. Her eyes meet yours, and she smirks, offering a thumbs up with a mischievous giggle. In a hushed whisper, she says. “You’re gonna have so much fun, he does this thing with his tongue…”

Her words leave you blushing and flustered. Before you can make it clear that you were not here to fuck, Jaemin swiftly escorts her out, locking the door firmly behind her.

In an awkward atmosphere, Jaemin proceeds to put on a simple top and jeans. The tension is palpable as you fumble through your reasons for being in his room. Confusion clouds your gaze when he extends his black leather jacket towards you, and you silently drape it over your shoulders, catching a scent reminiscent of midnight rain and cinnamon.

"I'm gonna go home.” You mumble.

Jaemin shakes his head in response, "I already said that it's too dark and dangerous –"

"I'll just –"

"Either I'm gonna take you home or you're staying with me," he says sternly. "I can't leave you alone like this… wasted and clearly upset. Plus, Haerin is staying over, so I want some sleep tonight. I know her and Jeno will be fucking all night long.“

You nod, the two of you sharing a silent understanding as your eyes meet in the moonlit room. In that moment, your gaze holds a mix of darkness and glistening emotions. "Take me home.” You softly request.

“My house is gonna empty. You can stay over.” You whisper, heavy breaths taking over your voices.

♥♥♥♥

The air is charged with anticipation as his bulge pressed firmly against your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through your body. You can feel the warmth between you, he’s so hard that his length is digging into your skin.

Jaemin’s staring down at you, body pressed against yours as you fall onto the bed, him following. You can’t believe how sexy he looks. His gaze met yours with an intensity charged with an electric current of unspoken words. The moonlight played across his features, highlighting the depth of his dark eyes and accentuating the sharp contours of his face.

He hovers over you, his fingers delicately caress your face. They trace the contours underneath the hollow of your cheek, along your sleek jawline, and over your fluttering eyelashes. His voice was a low murmur, a tone that revealed a depth to him you hadn’t noticed before. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered, and you felt your pussy throb and ache for him.

The room seemed to pulse with anticipation, a magnetic tension pulling you closer in the dimly lit space. There was a certain warmth in your closeness, an unspoken connection that seemed to bridge the gap between you two effortlessly.

The moment you stepped into the sanctuary of your empty house, your lips found each other in an instant, pressing fervently, lost in a mutual hunger. It was unclear who made the first move; it seemed to be a shared impulse. All you were aware of was the rapid beat of your heart as you found yourself breathlessly kissing and biting his inviting lips, your legs wrapped around his waist in an embrace of longing.

As he carried you upstairs, a whirlwind of desire and impatience in his every step, he threw you down on what was, unknown to him, Haerin’s bed. The room, adorned with countless photos of her with Jeno and her friends, went unnoticed in the dim light, its significance lost in the intensity of the moment.

He had mistaken this room for yours but you can’t be bothered to correct him. In that instant, the only truth that mattered was the closeness between you two. Besides, a part of you relished the thought of fucking him in her bed - this was a subtle payback for all those times Haerin had fucked Jeno on your bed.

Jaemin’s voice, low and teasing, broke the charged silence. “Are you just gonna stare at me all day?” He teased, his voice a low whisper that caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me what you want, I’ll give you everything, darling…” His hot breath against your ear, followed by a gentle bite on your earlobe, intensified the moment.

You continued to gaze into his eyes, finding yourself at a loss for words. His presence was overwhelming — a side of him you hadn’t seen before. There was a captivating darkness in his demeanor that left you both stunned and deeply attracted.

His finger traced your lips, gently pulling them down. A smirk played on his lips as his gaze dropped to your legs, wrapped tightly around his waist. Your movements were restless, you keep shuffling, desperate to feel something between your thighs to which Jaemin let out a soft, playful tut too.

“Just fuck me.” You moan out, the words laced with desperation.

He smirks, the embodiment of a tease. “Are you sure?” His whisper is a mix of sweetness and seduction, his eyes soft yet resolute as he looks down at you. His breath fans over your skin, a contrast to the intensity in his gaze.

You nod, trying to attach your lips to his but he dodged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Tell me exactly.”

A moment of silence hangs heavy in the air, filled with unspoken longing.

“Tell me you want me.” He presses, his voice a gentle command.

“I’m sure.” You reply, your voice barely a whisper.

He tuts softly, a sound that sends a thrill through you. Shaking his head, it still wasn’t enough.

“I want you. I want you to touch me, I want you cock in my pussy. I want you to fuck me.”

The air knocks from your lungs when his lips suddenly meet yours in an explosion of sensation. His lips are a perfect mix of softness and firmness, molding against yours with an intensity that sends waves of heat through your body. The taste of him is intoxicating, a hint of sweetness that lingers and beckons for more.

It’s a collision of longing and emotion, intense and all-consuming. Your mouth opens against his, and the moan that escapes you vibrates against his lips, a raw sound of pleasure that deepens the kiss. His tongue meets yours in a dance of shared passion, exploring and responding with equal fervor.

Each brush of his lips sending shivers down your spine. The world around you fades into a blur, leaving only the exquisite feel of his kiss, the taste of him, and the shared breath that seems to connect you on a level beyond words.

His mouth found the sensitive area of your neck, his mouth moving with a mix of tenderness and urgency that made your breath hitch in surprise, having not been touched like this in so long the air has already been sucked out of you. The warmth of his breath against your skin, mingled with the softness of his lips, created an intoxicating sensation, stirring a deep craving within you.

He then trailed a path of fervent kisses up your jawline, each one imbued with a burning intensity, his lips moving against the contours of your face, each kiss a declaration of desire. His movements were both deliberate and instinctual, as if each kiss was guided by a deep, primal need.

With a deep breath, he reached for the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the fabric in a gentle, almost reverent touch. The material was soft and lights

He slowly lifted the top and there was a moment of quiet, a hush that seemed to fill the space with anticipation. The fabric whispered against your skin as it rose and cascaded down your body prettily, the sound as soft as a breeze through autumn leaves.

Jaemin’s eyes found yours, and in them, you saw a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze was intense. The air between you two crackled. His eyes, dark and expressive, spoke volumes more than words ever could. There was a hunger in them.

He lowered his mouth to your chest and immediately brought your nipples to his lips, his first touch was a slow and thoughtful lick, savouring your taste. He took his time, lavishing your nipple with light swirls of his tongue and gentle kisses, which elicited moans of pleasure to spill from your lips.

He gently bit on the sensitive bud of skin, his teeth releasing with a ‘pop,’ followed by a contented smile as you moan his name. His attention to making you feel good was thorough, a mixture of playful bites, long licks, and occasional sucking.

Slowly, he continued with small, delicate kisses, down your body, from your boobs to your upper thigh, the soft press of his lips against your skin made you whine, pulling on his hair and begging him for where you wanted his touch the most. You slowly grind your clothes pussy against his face, he looks up at you with a smirk. “You wanna feel me here?” He whispers, voice filled with breath as his soft fingertips tread along your lower stomach, his lower lip captured between his teeth.

You nod eagerly, a mixture of anticipation and nerves filling you as you hadn’t had sex in 5 months and you didn’t expect to be doing it right now, with Na Jaemin, of all people. It intensifies your emotions but you surprisingly feel ready, you never expected to be so settled in such an intimate embrace with a complete stranger but there was something about Na Jaemin that made you horny.

He presses his lips against yours intensely as his hands gently tease the edge of your mini skirt, eventually slipping beneath the fabric. You break the just for a second, maintaining strong eye contact with him as you pull your mini skirt down your legs, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, caressing it with his soft fingers before eagerly pushing your lace thong down your thighs, lips smashing against yours once again as he tosses both your skirt and thong to the side, trailing kisses up your legs, his fingers beginning to delve into your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He hisses against your ear, cold fingers making circles against your folds, the hard metals of his rings touching your burning skin as he rubs on your clit.

His fingers push deeper and deeper into your cunt as your head hits the pillow and you let out a loud moan of his name. He drops open mouthed kisses to your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out your pussy, grunts leaving his lips at how your slick coats his fingers completely, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers and growing wet making his head dizzy.

“Do you see how fucking wet you are?” He whispers, suddenly shoving his fingers in your tiny mouth, making you gag but you suck nonetheless. He brings his fingers to his own mouth, licking your cum and moaning. “Just wanna fucking taste you.”

His eyes close as he delves into your pussy. He starts off slow, soft licks and nips of your already wet clit, you curl your toes, your vision becoming blurry due to the tears of pleasure but you can feel how fucking good he’s eating you out. His tongue laps at your clit, you whine and push his face closer, desperate for him to eat you out like it’s his last meal.

He kisses your folds, giving the delicate and wet skin a loud smooch before moving his lips and tongue at a pace that already has you crying out for him. He’s moaning into you, the sensation causing a vibration within your folds. “So fucking tasty.” He growls, the words muffled against your skin.

His nose presses against your pussy, you wrap your legs around his shoulders and he grips onto your ass, squeezing the flesh and giving it one compact spank before gripping onto your thighs, his grip so tight that you’re caged against him. His nails dig in and you’re sure he’s leaving harsh marks and your grip on his hair is so tight but neither of you care.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you the prettiest noises spill from your mouth when your climax hits, you squirt and drip all over your folds and he has every last bit of it, his lips lapping up your sticky wetness as if it’s a treat.

He leans back momentarily to appreciate the sight. Your hot cum leaking out of your tiny and tight hole, before he moves his tongue to lap up every last drop. It goes everywhere, all over his face, down his chin and neck but he’s grunting so loudly, begging you for more. “Taste so fucking good.”

“Jaemin.” You moan out, thrusting your pussy against him and reaching for his hard cock, desperate to feel him where you want him most. “Come on!!!!” You cry out.

He tuts at your impatience, eyes soft as he looks into your teary ones. “Yeah, yeah. Just be patient, baby.” His mouth pops, a sweet smile as you whimper at the use of the pet name, a sweet word said in such a mysterious and sensual way.

A realisation comes to you, have you even introduced yourself to him? Your mouth opens with a heavy moan when Jaemin’s eyes, dark and intense, locked with yours. You could hear the sound of his heavy breathing, a rhythmic echo that matched the quickening pace of your own heart.

You found yourself reacting instinctively. You bucked up slightly as Jaemin’s fingers deftly worked to loosen the belt around his jeans. Sliding it down his legs and tossing it far away.

He’s so hard. You hold his massive cock in your hands, eyes wide and mouth watering at the sheer size of it. You can feel the firmness beneath your fingertips. As you roughly rub his cock, he groans and drops his head to your shoulder, allowing you to touch away. Your fingers glide over the length, he removes your hands and replaces his own, dropping down and aligning his cock with your tight hole. His mouth pressing against yours with an open mouthed kiss.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” You gulp, voice barely audible due to the fucked state that you’re in.

“I know.” He whispers back.

You hum. “I know your name.” He groans louder. “Can I call you baby?” He asks with a smirk, you don’t know if he’s forgotten that he already has but his low and deep voice already has you weak in your knees so you nod enthusiastically.

“Please.” You whimper, feeling so incredibly turned on right now.

He distracts you with sweet kisses to your cheeks, when his cock finally enters your pussy but you’re instantly crying out from overstimulation and sensitivity. He’s so fucking big. You cry out when you realise he’s too big for you. You look down and the feeling of sadness intensifies when you realise only his tip has entered.

He coos in your ear, wiping your tears, holding your hand tightly in his and making the slightest of movements inside of you but you shake your head, a feeling that you can’t describe overtaking you. “You’re too big, it won’t fit. I can’t take it.” You say with an adamance.

“It will fit, baby.” He says simply, giving you a sweet smile and you get lost in his eyes, you find yourself instantly trusting him and it has you questioning yourself, you never trust this easily.

He kisses your temple softly, a tenderness that makes you whine and cry at the same time. You wrap your legs around his waist, craving the closeness. You nod, your doe eyes gazing into his as he makes you promises. “It will all fit, I know I’m big but I’ll make sure of it. I promise I’ll make you feel good, I’ll won’t hurt. I’ll go as slow as you want me to, ok?” His voice is filled with so much genuineness and by kindness that you find it impossible not to melt, your trust growing for him intensely.

He thrusts into you at a slow and sensual pace and before you know it, more and more of his length fills you up until you tighten around him, smiling at how fucking good and cosy it felt. “I told you baby, just trust me.” He smiles, looking down and cooing at the beautiful sight, your walls sucking him in and you tightening around him.

“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He purrs into your ear as he fucks into you at a pace that made your head spin. It was suddenly so fast, the headboard banging, skin slapping against skin, his hands slapping your ass, heavy breathing, passionate moans concealed even though they didn’t need to be, you had the house to yourself, however the two of you found comfort in smashing your lips against each other and moaning into each others mouths.

He fucks his cock deep into you hole, hitting your pleasure spot over and over again, your back arches, your toes curl and your pleasure pool deepens with every thrust. He wipes away your tears gently with his fingers, whispering words of praises that make you whine. The way he’s looking at you fucks your mind up and makes your head spin. His eyes are so soft and so piercing, you feel as though you don’t deserve to be looked at with this tenderness.

However when you try to cover your eyes with your hands, he takes your arms and cages them above your head, shaking his head firmly and giving you a serious look, enough to tell you that he wants to look at you as he fucks you.

Your pussy tightens around him and he groans, your walls continuously clenching around his cock and sucking him in deeper. Your thighs shake around his waist and his hand that’s slapping your ass becomes sloppier and slower. The noises of his cock fucking your wet and creamy cunt turns him on, the need to cum inside you deepening. His moans are more needy and the volume increases, his eyes darken in ways you didn’t expect. He’s pounding into you at an incoherent pace when he feels your high is near.

“Cum in me.” You beg into his ear, panting heavily and he lets out a growl at your needy side.

“Fuck, baby. Are you on the pill?”

You cry out, shaking your head when you remember he’s not even using protection, you were two horny sluts who forgot.

“Fuck. I forgot to wear a condom.” He says in an apologetic voice.

“I don’t care. Cum in me.” The words spill from your mouth so easily, you question whether you want to take it back but you take a look at him. His hair, a dark cascade, fell just above his dark and intense eyes and he hasn’t broken eye contact with you, not once. His smile, so boyish and warm.

Yeah. You’re definitely sure you want his cum in you.

His thrusts become slower and more messy but it still feels fucking good. He kisses you passionately when he cums, moaning against your mouth when you beg for his cum once again.

He fucks you through your high, you moan out his name as your hot cum leaks out of you but he fucks it back into you, his own cum coating your arousal, drops falling down your thighs and leaving a sticky mess. You look down and the sight is beautiful, you don’t know where you start or where he ends.

He paints your walls as he sighs at the feeling. As Jaemin’s lips met yours, there was an immediate rush of warmth and desperation, a culmination of longing transformed into a single, fervent kiss. His lips moved against yours with a passion that spoke volumes, tender yet insistent, The kiss deepened, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his mouth, the soft brush of his breath against your skin.

“Good girl.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

You fall asleep like that, in his strong arms and grip, his cock buried deep inside of you, thighs still sticky with cum and you know you needed to be cleaned up but as you lay on top of him, head resting against his chest, the lullaby of his heartbeat sends you to immediate sleep.

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun

1K notes · View notes

bluesidez · 2 months

Text

GymRat!Miguel Part 3

content warning: small food mentions, a little suggestive at parts so MINORS BEWARE, sexual tension?? 😗, insecure thoughts about a plus size body (may or may not be triggering for some), a few mean girls, college party, alcohol, drugs, mentions of throw up like once, a bad look for sororities (sorry, y'all are probably very wonderful people)

word count: 3.2k (NOT A DRABBLE WTF 😭) not proofread, if you see a mistake lmk

GymRat!Miguel's workout playlist is here! I had to stop myself from adding more songs because it’s already so long lol. I didn't even include any cool down songs.

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up without having to hobble to the bathroom for once. No morning wood because his dream of you was soft this time. You two were cuddled up on a couch with the world’s most fluffy blanket. He smiles to himself as he drags his feet to the bathroom. It was if dancing clouds and bubbles were floating around his head.

GymRat!Miguel who’s able to sit and chat with Ms. Beatrice longer today because his class doesn’t start until that after noon. He compliments her on the egg sandwich from the other day and she squeezes his cheeks when she thanks him as if he were a baby.

GymRat!Miguel who tinkers in the engineering building as he waits for lunch. He joined the small but mighty robotics team as soon as he found out there was one. There was a fighting robot division, and he needed to figure out the problems with his team’s robot sooner rather than later.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you at the student center having your lunch. He wastes no time to grab his food and book it to your table. He calls your name before he gets there, not wanting to startle you. You smile when you look up surprised to see him there.

"Can I join you?" he says, trying not to seem out of breath with how fast his heart is beating.

"Yeah," you say, arranging your things around. You push your computer to the side as he places his burito bowl on the table. "I'm finally getting to see you outside of lab."

In his mind, he takes a note of you being in the student center at this time. He wants to make eating with you a routine thing.

"What were you watching?" he asks, trying to curb the rush that your presence has on him. He opened up his bowl and started to mix his food, waiting patiently for your answer.

"This is a little embarrassing but," you pause to dump one of your nuggets in sauce. "I was watching someone explain the downfall of Chuck E. Cheese." Your voice gets softer as you finish your sentence, eyes avoiding his gaze.

You were so cute. And it's almost as if you've never met him, the ultimate nerd.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know why more and more locations went from five animatronics to one. Or how they started to sell their pizzas under ghost kitchens," he says, taking a bite from his bowl.

You looked at him and your smile grew. Miguel could only think 'there she is. there's my girl.'

The two of you chatted about everything from malfunctioning Chuck E's to your classes to your food. Miguel was through the roof.

GymRat!Miguel who offers to carry your art portfolio case for you to the art building. Anything to extend your time together. Plus, why should you have to hold it when he's here? He holds the doors for you and presses the elevator buttons before you can even think to.

GymRat!Miguel who really loves when the elevator door closes and he can look down at as you talk away. Just for those few seconds, the outside world is quiet and it's just you two. In another world, he'd kiss you before the doors open. In another world, he'd tilt your head up and have you look at him when you speak, he wanted to read your eyes too.

You're staring at him expectantly, eyes reminding him of baby deers. He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're staring at him.

"Miguel the door is open. We have to leave before it closes," you say.

He's instantly broke back to reality.

"Right! Sorry," he says, heat rising on the back of his neck. He steps out and holds his hand in front of the opening so that the door doesn't close you.

"Thank you," you say, a giggle under your breath.

Miguel has done some pretty embarrassing things when it comes to you, but he didn't think it would bleed into when he was actually in front of you.

In this world, he needed to not give you the creeps. Get it together.

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that you still want to come work out with him. You all plan to meet that Friday. You don't know what you want to work out, but you say you're excited. Miguel has tonight, Wednesday, and Thursday to plan the perfect workout for you.

Should he go buy a bottle so he can make you a smoothie? Or should he offer to buy you a smoothie afterwards? Do you even like smoothies? Maybe he should invite you to breakfast. Would you want to eat right after you worked out? You needed to eat to make sure you can speed up the healing process though....

GymRat!Miguel who waves you goodbye when it's almost time for your studio class to start, mind filled with so many questions.

Your friend turns to you immediately when Miguel is gone.

"And who was that?" she says, eyes shocked.

"He's a guy from my lab. His name is Miguel," you say, grinning in your hands. You felt like kicking your feet in the air, but alas, no time.

"He's super hot. Like, seriously," your friend says, moving her taboret next to her workspace. "I would hit it. Constantly."

"Please stop talking," you say, laughing along. "I'm not even sure if he goes for girls like me. I'd rather not get my hopes up." You wanted to keep yourself in reality and falling for Miguel might put you too close to the land of delusion. You figured that Miguel was just super nice, especially after you two worked so hard for that lab project.

Your friend stops and looks at you, she slams the liquin tin on the table and puts her hand on her hip.

"First of all, those "types of guys" love big girls, so don't give me that. Second of all, are you not seeing how he looks at you. He's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes, like, ever." She picks the liquin tin back up and starts scooping aggressively at the sides. "You gotta be more confident! You're gorgeous, anyone with a functioning brain can see that."

You stand there stunned, shocked at your friend's outburst. "I am confident!" Partially true. "I just...don't want to be hurt."

"I understand that, but have you even asked if he likes you or not?"

You shake your head no.

"Exactly. The night is still young," your friend says, pointing her palette knife at you. "And if you don't go for it, I will."

"Oh my god, shut up," you say, throwing a crumbled shop towel at her. You still kept her words in the back of your mind, storing it for later.

GymRat!Miguel who paces in front of the campus gym, waiting for your arrival. He got up extra early and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror. It wasn't a date, per se, but he felt that it could lead to one if he played his cards right. He decided to just invite you out to eat, figuring you would bring your stickered-water bottle.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you before you even call his name. He waves, smile taking over his features. You wave back, and it isn't until you're ten steps away that he finally takes in your full outfit. Another two-piece that was going to be the death of him, the only thing was that this was in the flesh. He cursed under his breath before you got closer, brain short-circuiting at the fabric hugging your skin.

"Ready to go?" he asks, forcing himself to not look at your body and to look at your face.

"Yeah! I'm a little nervous but I'm ready to work," you say, following him to the door.

He opens the doors for you, "Nothing to be nervous about. You're in good hands."

He brings you to his locker so you can put your bag in there, not wanting anyone to snag your belongings.

You guys start at the track, walking a lap as a warm up. Usually Miguel would do a lap or two of jogging, and as much as he wanted to watch you bounce, especially on him, this was a beginner workout. He didn't want to scare you with how intense he can get. While walking, you guys chatted about little things. Miguel tells you how wasn't nearly this big four years ago, ensuring you that the path to get here can be hard. You tell him that you just want be healthy, not caring if you lost weight or gained muscle. Miguel was secretly happy to hear this because he liked your body the way it was, but he would roll with whatever you were feeling.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you stretch. You both sit on the floor and face each other with your feet touching. Miguel saw how much smaller your feet were compared to his and his heart fluttered. His mind was filled with a million voices rambling off new things about you.

"She's focusing so hard"

"How can a gym outfit be so hot"

"She's so close to me when we do this stretch"

"Her hands are so warm"

"Maybe I should have stretched her from behind too"

That last thought gets Miguel to move you guys to the next part of the routine. How is his head always in the gutter?

GymRat!Miguel who starts you off with dumbbells, giving you the 5 lb weights to start. He starts you off with a few shoulder and arm exercises, giving you tips and praise along the way. His touches linger on your arms as he corrects your form, watching your body intensely. His constant "good"s, "one more''s, and "uh huh"s hit you right in your core. You're thankful that you're out of breath and heated from the workout, otherwise you would have melted before him.

GymRat!Miguel who pulls out all of the stops, using the heavier weights for his sets. He screams on the inside when you cheer him on. You clap at the end of one of his harder sets, happy that he pushed himself. He bows in silly way, sweat dripping down his face and laughing at your actions.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you while you use a heavier weight to do squats. You wanted to go for the 15 lb weight even though it was your first time doing weighted squats. He didn't want you to fall over, so he stood behind you and held his hands in the air by your waist as you went down. He knew that he was supposed to be focused, but he couldn't help but to glance at your ass a few times. God.

GymRat!Miguel who ends off your workout with the bikes, you guys making it a small competition. He stands and cycles, watching as your jaw dropped. You started to stand but got a little scared and gave up quick. Miguel couldn't have that. He stopped moving and got up to be by your side.

"You got it! Don't be scared," he says, watching you work.

"I literally can't do that," you say, cycling a little faster.

"Sure you can! Try it, I'm right here," he says, encouraging you.

You fight your fear and stand up and cycle. "Oh my god," you say, breaths coming out hard.

"That's it, that's it," Miguel says, voice warm as he praises you. "You're doing so good. Keep going."

You push until you can't anymore, Miguel cheering at your side.

GymRat!Miguel who guides you to the showers after your workout. It sucks that he can't be in there with you. His imagination can only get him so far.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you to come out of the bathroom, ready to ask you to go for smoothies and breakfast. He hopes you say yes.

GymRat!Miguel who is in awe again at how you look. How many two-piece sets did you have? How does he survive them every single time? He mutters up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go get smoothies, adding on that he would pay. You glow and say yes, stating that you love smoothies. He's soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who brings your food to the table, two wraps and two smoothies. A protein shake for him and a fruit smoothie for you.

"That was a really good workout today. You definitely put me to work," you say, unwrapping the straw to stab it through the top. You hum at the flavor as you take a sip.

"Good?" Miguel asks, and you nod your head with your thumb up. "I'm glad you liked the workout. I was excited to have a partner."

"A partner? Why didn't you invite us to join?"

You both look up to see a few girls standing by the checkout counter. Miguel notices them as the sorority girls from his literature class. They walk over to your table, eyes twinkling as they take in Miguel.

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He didn't think he had to deal with them outside of class too.

One of the girls look at you and goes, "Oo are you a personal trainer?"

You're taken aback, eyes scanning between the girls. You're about to open your mouth to respond but Miguel gets to them first.

"No, we're workout partners," he says, snapping at the girl. "And we're kind of having a conversation right now so is there anything else that you guys want to say?"

The girl cowers a bit at Miguel's words, laughing as if he told a joke and twirling her hair. The leader of the pack turns to Miguel, "Sorry about that. We wanted to see if you could come to our party tomorrow night. It'll be super fun and we would love to see you there."

A party? Miguel hadn't gone to one since he moved on campus. He always wanted to experience a college one. He turned to you and saw that you just tapped at your phone, not looking to the girls.

"I'll go if I can bring her," Miguel says, tapping his foot against yours. You look up, shock in your eyes,

Some of the girls slump, and the leader tightens her smile, "Fine! That's cool. I'll send you the details later."

The girls walk off and you stare at them, eyes squinting.

"They're an interesting bunch aren't they?" you say, continuing to eat your wrap.

"Right?" Miguel says, turning back to you.

GymRat!Miguel who comes to your dorm, ready to walk you to the party. He knocks on your door, a little nervous. He had on a nice top, the top open a little bit and a thin chain around his neck. After a while, you opened the door and gobsmacked him again with your outfit.

"Wow," he says, standing in the door like an idiot.

"Is it bad?" you ask, body glowing.

"No, you look amazing," Miguel says. "Ready to go?" He holds his arm out, softly smiling at you.

You nod and intertwine your arm through his.

GymRat!Miguel who takes in the atmosphere, frat guys yelling by a pool table, a few girls dancing with red solo cups, some people making out on the couch.

For Miguel, it was a lot.

He turned to you, yelling to ask if you wanted a drink. You say yes and you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you both are met with the sorority girls crowding the kitchen. Some of them are passing some pills around and others are chatting by the island. One of them looks up and sees you guys lingering by the entrance.

"Miguel! You made it! Come on have a drink," she pulls him closer in the room. "Want a xannie?"

"I'm good," he says, handing you a cup of Pink Whitney. You take a sip and turn your nose a little bit. You might have to suck it up to get through the night.

"I'm so glad you made it. I have something that I've been meaning to show you," she says, batting her eyes. She convinces him to follow her up the stairs.

Miguel yells over his shoulder that he'll be right back.

You stand in the kitchen, fingers tapping against your cup. You felt a little silly and out of place. You didn't know anyone else here and the people were cliquey.

You joined a few games of beer pong, trying to enjoy yourself, but you couldn't help but to think about Miguel.

You dance a little, joining some random girls in the middle of the room. The music is ok, but you were just trying to have a good time. After an hour or so, you get nervous. Miguel hasn't been back in a while.

You head back to the kitchen, thinking maybe he could be in there.

"If you're looking for Miguel, he's probably deep in a bed right now," one girl giggles as she comes up beside you, grabbing another drink.

"What?" you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah girl, why else would he be gone so long? I tried to go up there and the doors were locked. Just text him tomorrow."

Your hand grips your cup tighter, watching as the girl goes back into the thick of the crowd.

You decide to wait a little longer, scrolling on the same three apps back to back for another hour. You look at the time again and the 3 am stares back at you mockingly.

You figure that he's really not coming back down and open your Instagram to give him a text.

“Hey Miguel! I’m gonna go ahead and go back to my dorm. It's getting pretty late."

You walk back to your dorm, arms wrapped around yourself to brace from the cold.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to a bathroom that's not occupied with some one hovering over the toilet. He feels out of it. Throwing back a few too many shots. He was trying to get back downstairs but there was always someone there to pull him back, offering something.

A shot? Sure.

A pill? No.

A game? Maybe.

The girl who brought him up there tried her best to get in his pants, but if he was being honest, he didn't even remember her name. Or any of the names of the girls that came in afterwards. He declined every one of them, just wanting to get some air.

He was able to check his phone.

3:35 am.

He sees your message and feels sick. He runs downstairs and out the door, the cool air sobering him up a bit.

"Fuck," he says hands to his head. He squats and texts you back.

"I am so sorry. I got caught up. Did you make it back safely?"

It was so late, there was no way you would respond. He fucked up.

He texted Gabriel, maybe his drunk mind pushing him to seek help from his little brother.

"So if I invite a girl to a party and leave her what are the chances that she will text me back? :((("

"Dude. It's almost 4am. And where is this so-called game that you have? Ik you're not asking me about anything"

"Gabri :(((("

"I'll be honest, she's probably blocking your number. IF she even has it lol"

Yeah. He fucked up.

dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵

a/n: Miguel's gym playlist is such a jarring difference from my own gym playlist. 😭 I left you guys with an extra long addition today because I have soooo much hw that's piling up and it's tearing me apart.

As always, leave a like and reblog. Leave comments please. 🥺 I want to see your reactions! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe

#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara au #miguel o'hara x chubby reader

756 notes · View notes

auggieblogs · 7 months

Text

"Totally worth it" | CL16

Charles Leclerc x reader Author's note: Hey, hiiii, loves. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is inspired by that one episode of "How I Met Your Mother"... you'll figure out which one. Happy reading, everyone<3

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

The sound of footsteps echoed through the house, signalling Charles' return from the grocery store. You were curled up on the couch, feeling absolutely miserable with a cold and a slight fever. Your tissues were piled up beside you, and you had a blanket draped over your shivering form. The room felt cold despite the heater being on, and you couldn't help but sigh in discomfort.

Charles burst into the living room, carrying bags of your favourite snacks and a brown paper bag from the drug store. "I'm back, amor," he announced with a warm smile, placing the bags on the coffee table.

You smiled weakly in response, appreciating his effort to make you feel better. "Thank you, baby", you mumbled, your voice hoarse.

Charles came over, his brows furrowed with concern and felt your forehead. "You're still warm," he said softly. He then fetched a thermometer from the medicine cabinet and sat down beside you. "Open up for me, y/n." He gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and waited patiently. After a moment, he checked it and smiled, "Your fever has gone down a little bit."

You sighed in relief as he kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. Charles turned on Gilmore Girls, and fluffed the pillows behind your head. He snuggled up beside you, gently kissing your knuckles.

As the day turned into evening, Charles decided it was time to make you some dinner. He headed to the kitchen, despite his terrible cooking skills, he was determined to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. He had learned the recipe from his mother and hoped that he could manage it for your sake. You could hear him pottering about and occasionally muttering to himself.

Charles prepared the soup with love and care, making sure the broth was just right, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the vegetables were tender. He even added a little extra seasoning, just the way you liked it.

He eventually returned with a steaming bowl of soup, a proud smile on his face. "Here you go, my love," he said, sitting beside you.

Now, I know I'm not the best cook," he admitted, "but this is the one dish my mum taught me to make. I hope it's not too terrible."

You couldn't help but laugh, a sound that turned into a coughing fit. Charles quickly handed you a glass of water before blowing on the soup to cool it down. He took a spoonful and carefully brought it to your lips. "Here, amor, let's see if it's edible."

You took a tentative sip, surprised by the taste. It was actually quite good. You nodded and smiled as Charles fed you spoonfuls, his eyes never leaving your face.

Once you had eaten, he gently wiped your mouth with a napkin and placed the empty bowl on the nightstand. Then, he tucked you back in bed, ensuring you were snug and comfortable.

He leaned in to kiss you goodnight, but you stopped him, concern in your eyes. "You don't want to kiss me, you'll get sick, Charlie."

He didn't say anything but held your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly. He'd risk a cold to take care of you.

Charles climbed into bed with you, a book in hand, and began to read aloud. His voice was soothing, and you slowly drifted off to sleep.

A few days later, it was his turn to succumb to the cold. You found him wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, looking miserable and adorable all at once. You prepared a warm bowl of soup and fed it to him, blowing on it just as he had done for you.

As you sat by his side, feeding him spoonfuls of soup, Charles couldn't help but smile through his stuffed nose.

"Totally worth it," he mumbled between bites, making you giggle.

848 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

Text

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

586 notes · View notes

manicpixiefelix · 5 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut

513 notes · View notes

iloveyouphillipmorris · 3 months

Text

saw a post i disagree with in medical malpractice medicine drug tag and so i'm redoing it:

reactions if you gave characters a shiny stone:

cameron — she takes it as a genuine compliment, a gift of potential gratitude. she places it in her pocket and gives you that really lovely polite smile, it stays somewhere near her bed at her apartment. 8/10

foreman — pre-s3, befuddled but assumes good intention, doesn't really care for it but keeps it around til it inevitably gets lost. 5/0.

chase — awkwardly smiles and doesn't quite know what to do with it, is happy to receive a gift either way because he loves praise. brings it up at the table the next day, cameron says it's sweet but no one else cares. he keeps it in his locker. 9/10

wilson — he borderline fetishistically hoards all gifts given to him by patients and presumably by those few random kind souls, as well. looks into what the stone is and commits the name to memory, it stays with all his other gifts from patients long since gone and he worries about if you're still alive. 10/10

cuddy — incredibly awkward transaction. it's a gift, but not a very good one, but parents have to be nice to their kids or else they end up like some co-workers she knows and she's working on this whole empathy thing. thanks you but looses it in a coat pocket somewhere 6/10

house — does that scoffing, blowing air outtuv his nose thing. "think you can impress me with a little [biblically accurate stone name]? try harder." tosses it back to you but when you give it back again, he keeps it. why? not because of you but because as we all know he had a childhood treasure hunting fixation and he loves it, starts adding more rocks in a place people can't see them. 10/10

#house md

369 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 1 month

Note

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days.

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice.

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle.

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words.

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all.

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind.

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it.

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears.

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it.

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity?

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world.

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though.

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal.

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted.

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here.

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy.

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

231 notes · View notes

lanawinterscigarettes · 1 month

Note

What if Wilson accidentally consumed an aphrodisiac, how do you think his partner would deal with him lol?

I see the Wilson lovers are starting off strong here with their requests lmao

James Wilson accidentally consuming an aphrodisiac

Warnings: nsfwish content given the obviously suggestive subject matter

Honestly given how often House drugs/has drugged Wilson canonically in the show I wouldn't put it past him to do something like slip a substance containing some type of aphrodisiac into his coffee when he's not looking just for the hell of it

Regardless of how or why it occurred, I imagine Wilson wouldn't notice anything was wrong until it just sort of hit him all at once

Incredibly flustered, he'd excuse himself from whatever sort of interaction he was having, whether that be with a patient or another doctor, and lock himself in his office with hope that the feeling would soon pass

Once it became clear that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, he was stuck with the alternative option: paging you in hopes you could provide him some much needed, ahem, relief

(How you got into his office is entirely up to you. It's most likely he opened the door for you himself but if you want to imagine hopping over the divider between his and House's balconies for a more comical effect go for it)

He's so pathetic when you finally get a good look at him. He has an obvious bulge in his pants and looks even more like a kicked puppy than usual

Typically he's not one to ask for sexual favors at work, but it's clear an exception needs to be made before he combusts from all the pent up sexual frustration

He's torn between politely declining any help and begging for assistance until he sees you sink to the floor in front of him

At that point all the blood that was being used to form any sort of thought went rushing somewhere else if you know what I mean

Knowing Wilson he probably needed to be gagged (most likely with his own tie, as you didn't have anything else immediately on hand) so no one would hear his desperate moans while you sucked him off/gave him a handjob

Depending on how strong the aphrodisiac was would determine just how long you spent with him in his office. If it was weaker, then thirty minutes to an hour would suffice. Anything stronger than that and the two of you wouldn't be seen for the rest of the day

If you were to ask him about it afterwards, he'd admit it was a lot more enjoyable than he thought it would be given the fact you were both at work during the day

Still, he'd prefer if the next time he took an aphrodisiac it was in a less public area with him having knowledge of it beforehand

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: none yet to tag

#house md #house md imagine #house md x reader #house md headcanons #house md smut #james wilson #james wilson imagine #james wilson x reader #james wilson headcanons #james wilson smut #gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #male reader #x male reader #fem reader #x fem reader

188 notes · View notes

mydearestdaryl · 30 days

Text

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝑏𝜄𝜏𝜀 𝑚𝜀 ⁽¹⁸⁺⁾ ౨ৎ

summary: vampire! daryl can't help but get turned on when you let him feed off you. warnings: vampire feeding, blood, smut (does dry humping count?), desperate daryl. pairing: vampire! daryl x female reader. setting: no-apocalypse au, vampire au. a/n: first time writing about vampires so i can just hope this doesn't suck, but tysm for reading! inspired by @norman-fucking-reedus's post about vamp! daryl, so, credits to her for the idea! 🤍

the last thing daryl wanted to do to you was hurt you. he'd rather die than let you, his precious, sweet girl, experience any type of pain or be in any kind of danger.

that is why he never gave in to your idea to feed off you.

no matter how much his mouth watered and his fangs felt sharper when he kissed your neck, when he so little as smelled your intoxicating scent, or when his head was buried between your legs, lapping up every drop of the shattering orgasm his tongue made you reach.

that was until now.

your tongues collided and danced together in a battle for dominance as you lay on top of him on the bed. his hands ascended and descended on the delicate curve of your waist at a patient pace that was quickening slowly, and your hands gently tugged at his hair. your weight on his felt so good.

with a gasp for air, you pulled away to breathe, eyes hazy with love and lust as you smiled at your lover, whose eyes mirrored yours, but they carried the ever-present self-control he needed all the time not to bite you and drink your delicious blood. fuck, just a taste.

“bite me,” you said before you could even register your words, still, you meant it. your hips involuntarily ground down to meet his growing erection creating a tent in his pants, adding in a whisper: “please,” you mumbled against his lips as you kissed him again, hoping it would help convince him to give into your dirty little fantasy.

you felt him groan against your mouth, hearing a muffled “can't”.

with a pathetic whine, you pulled away, finding his control evidently starting to crumble. “please, my love, let me give you this. let me do this for you.”

daryl's blue eyes seemed to darken, if possible, and his pupils almost fully dilated as he seemed to go over the idea in his head. his breathing got a little heavier and his lips parted as his tongue peeked out, gliding almost subconsciously over his lips like a predator staring at a prey in anticipation.

and it was the most glorious fucking sight you've ever seen.

the hunger. the raw need in his eyes. the last shreds of control fading away. fucking divine.

in a swift and abrupt motion, he flipped you on your back, hovering over you as you tilted your head back, willingly offering the long column of your throat.

daryl breathed in your scent, eyes rolling to the back of his head before his tongue darted out to lick the delicate skin of your neck, finding the rhythm of your pulse. he glided his tongue over the area and around a few times, trailing up to your jaw and back down again leisurely.

the anticipation made your fingertips feel electric as they tangled in his chocolate locks, and your legs wrapped around his hips, gluing them to yours.

without warning, fangs punctured flesh, eliciting a low groan from daryl's throat and a yelp from you, which turned into a moan as you felt what was at first a subtle sucking sensation, and turned into a powerful rush as he drew long pulls from your lifeforce into his starving body.

your eyelids fluttered, cunt clenching on air that matched the rhythm of every draw from his lips, and a series of cries and whines left your mouth shamelessly.

if they weren't shut already, his eyes would be rolling back.

the taste of your blood on his tasting buds was addictive. fucking delectable and like nothing he had tasted before; warm and sweet on his tongue, better than any drug or substance, but with the same effect.

it was an unexpected intimacy sharper and more intense than anything you both had ever experienced.

daryl's hips instinctually buckled up to meet your clothed pussy, setting a rhythm soon, making your legs tighten their grip around him, and meeting him halfway with movements of your own hips.

his erection rubbed right on your clit, setting your body on fire, enhanced by the pleasurable pain of his ivory daggers on your neck that made everything a little clouded. but it was a heavenly sensation that made contrast with the hellish scene of your own blood running down your neck, staining your white top.

daryl's movements sped up, and small, desperate noises formed in his chest. he was now thirsty for release and drunk off your taste. you moaned loudly, “fuck!”

the friction of your jeans and his clothed dick on your arousal made desire coil in your bellies, tightening with each jerk of your hips. “daryl,” you panted, your voice slightly higher.

sweet pressure kept building, daryl's greedy mouth kept drawing blood from you, muscles tensed as he growled against your skin, and albeit reluctant, he parted when he knew taking any more blood from you wouldn't be a good idea. he groaned while keeping his tongue on the wound, preventing any blood from going to waste until no more escaped from the couple of little incisions.

with a few more thrusts, ecstasy exploded inside you two like fireworks. With cries, both came in your pants as daryl kept his hips buckling up, trying to prolong your climaxes until you came back down.

your eyes fluttered shut slowly, your body relaxing underneath him as the strokes of his tongue turned into gentle kisses on the blissful cutting on your neck. your breathing came back to normal after a few minutes. the wound hurt, but you had never felt so relaxed. so happy.

“darlin',” he stroked your cheek, his subsiding euphoria morphing into concern as a bent arm next to your head propped him up. “(y/n), you alright?” he licked his lips, savoring the remnants of your crimson elixir while studying your face.

your heavy eyes opened again, pulling him by his neck to kiss him. sloppy and needy kisses while welcoming the metallic taste in your mouth, making a moan vibrate in his chest and against your lips.

when you pulled apart, daryl rested his forehead on yours, “i love ya,” he confessed in a whisper, almost hoping you didn't hear him, but you could've been able to tell even if he didn't say it, for in that moment he was as profoundly yours and you were his.

taglist: @ledgeria16 @poisonmedixon

#daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon headcanons #vampire!daryl #twd au #daryl dixon fanfic

235 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 3 months

Note

not too sure if you've already put thought into it, but which yanderes would be/wouldn't be willing to break bones? i feel like for most of them it's a hard yes but depending on the circumstances and their mental fragility.

also sadisim. (COUGHCOUGHCHILDECOUGHCOUGH)

ignore this ask if you've already answered/have a question similar to this (or just don't want to answer/! and if your reqs are closed and my tumblrs just tweaking that's okay too!!

I would say Albedo initially, but he's a practical man, if you're not going to be using the limbs anyway might as well just take them off, so… as for some others…

Kazuha does it for practicality, specifically your ankles. It's a useful risk prevention method.

He still feels bad, and he apologizes… but he doesn't hesitate much. After all, he did give you fair warning, but you ran off yet again. This is just to keep you safe, for your own well-being, and for his peace of mind.

He's sweet about it too. He puts your hand against his arm beforehand, and tells you here, you can squeeze down on my arm, okay? After all, it will help with the initial pain.

He's still sweet when you squirm away and whimper, even though the grip with which he pulls you back is harsh.

I know. But I can't let you be a danger to yourself…

He holds you gently for however long it takes you to stop crying. He'll get you water and food and painkillers/alcohol, tends to your every need, waits on you hand and (broken) foot. Notably, once the initial reaction has died down, he stops really acknowledging it in any meaningful way, talks to you as if everything is normal. Even when addressing your leg, he talks about it as if it were some injury you acquired by other means.

You might be spiteful enough to bring it up and remind him that it's his fault, but he's quick to correct you, keeping a soft voice and gentle smile all the while.

You did have every opportunity to choose otherwise, you know. Ah, but I know you're upset… it's okay if you blame me.

He'll be fully patient for you to heal, too. He’s very cheerful once it's fully healed, says he's glad you're better, helps you walk around a bit to get readjusted, keeping his hands firmly supporting you the entire time. Even for a while after it's healed enough to walk, he checks on it from time to time to ensure the final stages of mending are going well.

He tells you you're fully healed, with a soft voice and ever-pleasant smile, not without adding—

Let’s hope it stays that way.

----

Childe has to be in a more angry mood than usual to get to that point. Usually, his form of sadism is the sort that focuses on a sort of pleasure-pain, the sort he can get off to… but this is a bit different.

It's only because you keep being irritating. He's really tolerant, you know? He's been so lenient, he tells you, he's been so nice, he's been so good to you, and what do you do? You keep being mean. It's cute up to a certain point, but you're being like, really really mean.

It's actually kind of nice, on his end, to see your immediate reaction — you can tell just by the strained smile and clenched teeth as he speaks that you've crossed some sort of line. For once, you actually shrink back, clutch your hands up at your chest defensively, start to take some steps back… but you can't get away fast enough before you're drug forward by the hair or neck.

Come on… it's not that hard to be good, is it?

It's a last chance — he's nice enough to give you that, at least, even if you don't deserve it (which you don't, he thinks). Come on. You can be good, you can apologize and submit and he'll forget all the spiteful shit you've done today and then you can have a nice, happy rest of the day. You can do it. It should be easy. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it with a sort of sincere pleading gesture.

But, even though you should know better, you still remain spiteful through your fear, narrow your eyes and tell him no. You try to jerk your hand away, only to find his grip on it is iron-firm.

His smile twitches.

Aw. That's too bad.

And thus, you process the sound and sight before the pain — you see him take your hand and twist it, hear the snap, and only then does the pain shoot up through your wrist, through your arm and to every nerve in your body. It's bad enough that you fall to your knees, squealing, cradling the now-unnaturally-twisted limb.

Yes, he's very very nice, but admittedly, hearing you wail like that is rather pleasing, all things considered. More so when he grabs you by the jaw, jerks your head up to force you to look at him, and sees the tears in your eyes, the way your face contorts with pain.

Maybe you can be good now…?

This time, you squeeze your eyes shut, frantically nodding your head, a pitiful little sound coming out of your throat. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't very satisfying.

---

There's also a notable difference between willing to break bones and likelihood of breaking bones, actively willing or not.

Some non-humans are particularly unaware of their strength — Xiao fits this well. He genuinely doesn't like hurting you, although you would think so, based on how much he does, it's just that he forgets how fragile you are. For someone of his strength, your body might as well be made of glass.

So it just sort of happens… he grabs you by the arm or leg and pulls in the wrong direction a bit too hard, there's a stomach-churning snapping sound and suddenly you're shrieking and crying. It startles him quite a bit — he lets go and shrinks back, all wide-eyed and head darting from side to side as he looks around in confused panic.

But just as with fragility, he's also not very aware of the durability of the human body. He’s not great at gauging severity of injury — normally, he just attacks creatures until they stop moving, because that's his goal when it comes to his responsibilities.

So he has no real reference for how much damage he's done. Bones are all connected, yes? He probably broke something important, or made some internal organ come apart somehow, and it will kill you. The thought sends him into a full-fledged panic, he's bolting off and dragging help back as fast as physically possible, explaining that you have sustained mortal injury and are on the verge of death.

He's at least comforted to learn that that is in fact not the case, and you have merely broken your arm, which, the innkeeper confirms, is in fact not fatal. He's too relieved to notice the blatant frustration in her voice (this marks the fourth time he's insisted you are about to die over something actually far more trivial), and merely nods when she asks to please be more careful.

He doesn't really know how to handle the matter from there. He feels guilty about it. You're obviously in pain, and it's his fault. He'll sit next to you, hunched over and staring with those big yellow eyes as if trying to make you heal faster with sheer willpower. Makes sure you don't get up and move around (despite your insistence that your legs are just fine — still can't take risks, he says), disappears for a while each day and comes back with mountaintop herbs that are supposed to dull pain.

He doesn't outright say sorry, but you can see the remorse on his face and in his actions, and it's actually kind of pitiful… it reminds you of a little kid that broke a vase sheepishly trying to put it back together… all in all, you can't really bring yourself to be harsh about it.

#.kz #.x #.ch

184 notes · View notes

youaremyhome · 7 months

Text

Pieces of the Night: Synapses Between the Stars

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 4.0K ya'll I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been! I won't bore you with the mess of my life but just know i am continuing this story with love and excitement. thank you to everyone who is still reading and for being patient with me!! love ya ❤️

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm@magnificantmermaid@mk15x@abbybarnesstuff@lavenderhue@dirtytomatoedwrites @gothamlovr91 @skel-skell @hiddencurator @luvmatchamilktea

@palmwinemami @e-spexially

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

The threat lingers in the air like a bad odor. Your face scrunches up with more tears as you reluctantly nod. A child-like fear encapsulates over you, fingers slowly untwisting from his pants. Rafe’s half hard as you find comfort in his pacifying touches, his hands massaging down your scalp to the nape of your neck.

As much as he’d love to stay in this moment, the tackiness on his dick is uncomfortable so Rafe tucks it in with a zip. He urges you up, but you give a small wince. Rafe hums questioningly, following your eyes down to the trickle of blood at your right knee.

“Oh, Angel. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Directing you down in a chair, he parallels your descent into taking a knee before you. Your palms wipe clumsily at your soaked cheeks, skin irritated from the salt and constant rubbing.

A small shard of glass pokes from the hard base of your knee, embedded from the hardwood floors. Dark red borders the clear glass, tinting it an ombre of maroon as it spreads itself. Running a hand up the curve of your calf, his fingers knead at the fat and muscle there. With his other hand, he pinches his thumb and index together to pull the fingernail-sized glass out. It plinks on the table.

Rafe pouts up at you, jutting out his lower lip before kissing your shin right at the end of the blood trail where it fattens like a dew drop. The taste of your essence seeps through his lips and nourishes his soul. Flattening his tongue, he slides it up to the wound and leaves an imprinted bloody shape of his mouth there. He thinks of clowns, the ocean, anything to will his dick to stay down, the metallic aftertaste of you marinating all over his tastebuds.

You don’t flinch as Rafe cups your face, hiding it instead in the palm of his hand as you keep crying. You’ve never cried this long before and Rafe wonders if the surge of fluctuating hormones is to blame. Stroking the tears away with his thumbs, you two stay like that for a long moment. Rafe waits patiently until you're fully nestling into his touch, allowing him to lean in closer and smell the shampoo of your hair as it tickles his nose.

Though he does love your crying, the best part of it is the aftermath. Where your mind is drained from the climax of emotion, a shaky little thing made to be wrapped up and taken care of.

He coos your name with gentleness, with forgiveness. Kissing along your face to clean up your tears, your puffy lips are malleable against his. Pulling back with a small smile, he checks over your splotchy face. Squishing your cheeks together to purse your lips, he kisses you again. It's a mockery of a true kiss. Using your docile state to his benefit.

Carefully, Rafe stands up to lead you toward your bedroom. With one step, there’s a dull stab at the sole of his foot. Lifting his foot up and to the side, the yellow kitchen light reflects off the culprit. More glass. Flicking it off, he detours you to the couch instead, bundles you back up in blankets, and takes a step away. A pull to his shirt stops him.

You look like you hate yourself for asking in a hoarse voice, “Where’re you going?”

His chest swells. Rafe thumbs at the apple of your cheek. “Goin’ to clean up, baby. Relax now, alright?”

With an approving nod, Rafe starts to scan the floor. Following it like breadcrumbs in an exploding trail of broken glass, his gaze is led to the opposite wall stained dark with rivets collecting down to the baseboard. The water has mostly contained itself to the site of the explosion, glass escaping all the way into the dining room and under the table for refuge.

His rose-tinted hue mutes into stark colors of remembrance.

Of when he was little but always a big brother. Before Rose and when Wheezie was a baby, a time when it was only Ward. Hiding a smaller blonde before himself.

It’s like switching on LED lights, his serenity dissipates into a crumbling headache. Memories attempt to suppress him into the black hole he calls home for days on end, where the craving of something stronger blankets him. Rafe blinks rapidly and then searches for a dustpan. Sweeping is second nature to him, like an instinct he’s forgotten about because now a maid does it.

The twinkling of broken glass is a familiar sound and as all the pieces come back together so does a fear that there’ll be a figure imposing behind him. One that is stronger and angry about the mess. Jerking his head to the side, Rafe finds relief because there is no shadow looming over him, no deep bark of a voice to cower from.

It’s the back of your head. You, right where he left you. Waiting for him.

He thinks you’ve fallen asleep from how quiet it’s been but when he rounds the corner of the couch you peek up from beneath the blanket. He can’t tell if the tug at his heart is from affection or shame. Propping your legs over his lap, he leans your head against his chest as his arms wrap around you.

It’s strange and silent. Your face is dry now, sniffling every so often as you tiredly cuddle him. Seeking comfort from the emotional edging he’s provoked today. Rafe rubs your arm and leg with periodic squeezing. Nose borrowing into your hair he pecks kisses there, a warm buzz tickles the tip of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe’s voice cracks. You feel breakable in his arms. “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The front door closing wakes Rafe up in limbo. There’s a kink in his neck, warm with the weight of you on him. Multiple footsteps sound, coming closer until there’s a halt and hushing.

“Aw, look at them.” Is whispered before there’s a shuttering click.

“Andi, shut up, you’ll wake them.”

As the presence of your roommates’ fade and so does his consciousness, Rafe knows he’ll do anything to keep you like this.

🌙

The first day of spring break is unlike any other Rafe has ever experienced.

Last year this time, he was in his family’s house in the Bahamas with endless coke and flowing booze, and dozens of college kids roamed free in the sprawling mansion. Now, he’s with Ward going over the plans of construction and the partners included.

And oh, isn’t it a delicious surprise to be standing in front of your father. Shaking his hand with a professional smile. The same one he used a day before to shake his fingers into your soaking cunt, making you squirt for the first time. It was the best parting gift you could’ve given him.

Did you know your father would be here?

“Rafe…” Your father’s eyes shine with slight recognition. “You have class with my daughter, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do. She’s a very smart girl.”

Rafe knows it’s not the right time to indulge how well he knows you, so he lets the topic slip past. He scrutinizes your father in the initial meeting between the three of them. He speaks highly of his work, the people he’s worked with, and his family. A soft confidence that doesn’t command respect but receives it naturally. Ward boasts about the many properties he owns on the island, how he’s benefited the community and the people that look up to him, calls Rafe his ‘right-hand man’. It annoyingly pleases Rafe, even if this is the first major project Ward’s let him in on.

Presenting himself with respect to your dad is a top priority. Uses his good ol’ southern charm. Shows obedience while inserting his ideas in meetings, makes nauseating small talk during lunches. Throughout the week, Rafe homes in on impressing your father while his own falls into the background. Once prayed-for compliments from Ward are forgotten words now that your father laughs at his jokes, slaps his shoulder in comradery. After too many, sirs and Mr.’s your dad insists that Rafe call him by his college old nickname, Cruiser.

He almost can’t believe how good the week goes. Rafe stays (mostly) sober. Ward doesn’t belittle him. Your father announces that he’ll be staying in the OBX for the summer.

That little tidbit doesn’t reveal itself until the end when Ward schedules a tee time to celebrate the success of a good partnership.

Weak rays of the morning sun cast long shadows. The humidity gathering warns of warmer weather later, giving the perfect excuse to hydrate with beer. It’s all play and no business. Your father is a chatty man as Rafe lines up with his club to the ball.

They’re on the 8th hole and Rafe has a good buzz, enjoying the game. The times he’s played with his dad in the past had been riddled with competitiveness, dampening the mood each time. Your dad absorbs that attention as he’s been parring better than Ward. It's entertaining to watch Ward struggle to trap down that ugly streak. Rafe could care less about scores and the like, he appreciates that Cruiser personally invited him to play with them.

“…Lauren’ll be off somewhere doing whatever. Wife’s excited to come back,” Cruiser takes a pull of beer and says your name, “She’s so busy with school I haven’t had much chance to ask her.”

Rafe’s ears twitch. Widening his feet again, he arcs the club up slow…

“But I think she’ll enjoy the summer here.”

The twitch in his shoulders is to blame for the bad shot, hitting the ball too high and not far enough.

Rafe mutters a swear into his shoulder, wiping his chin there. He steps away with a casual shrug, switching with Ward to stand next to your dad.

“So, uh…ya’ll be here for the whole summer or until the projects finished?”

“I like to stick around until the project's done.” Rafe becomes conscious of the fact he’s staring at him when Cruiser side-eyes Rafe. “Not too sure what her plans are after graduation, but it’ll be nice to have her here for a bit.”

Ward butts in. “And the Mrs. okay with it? What about her job?”

“Oh, Cotton doesn’t work.” Cruiser only refers to his wife as Cotton. And here Rafe thought his family had weird names. “We’ve been doing this sorta thing for about ten years now. She likes it. Seeing the country with my girls is my favorite time of the year.”

“Hm.” Ward’s eyes gleam with longing. “Wish my daughters took more interest in hanging out with me.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer to hide it. It’s a practiced move he’s learned to perfect over the years. He can’t prod into the subject of you now with Ward sugaring it up into parenthood.

“How’d ya’ll meet?” Rafe asks with strained politeness.

“In undergrad through mutual friends. She was the sweetest thing to everyone but wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Cruiser laughs heartily.

“Playin’ hard to get,” Ward jabs in.

Your dad shakes his head, laughter tailing off into a scoff. Rafe doesn’t think Ward notices the dismissal, too busy dicking around with practice swings. “Just had to prove myself to her…”

Ward gets a nice shot in, staying in his pose as he watches the ball sail and then land in a sand pit. Rafe would’ve laughed if his interest wasn’t already pinned somewhere else.

“How’d you do that?” Rafe asks as he adjusts his cap.

Ward cocks his head in Rafe’s direction with an inquisitive eye as he steps away from the tee. Cruiser goes to his golf bag, skimming around the many clubs. He carries himself with loose movements and talks as he decides on which club to use.

“I could tell you all sorts of things, son.” Sliding one out, he gives it a short toss-up in the air then catches it. “Most important of them: compromise.”

“Compromise?”

Is he sure he wants to get dating advice from your father?

“All there’s to it. That simple.” He confirms, correcting the white ball to stay on the tee. With ease he lines himself up, stance relaxed with loose hands. “I’m from the east coast, wife’s from the middle of the Midwest. So, after graduation, we stayed in California. That’s compromise.”

He takes a few faux swings, whistling a tune like Rafe isn’t hanging off his every word. Cruiser sways his hips playfully as he says, “You shift from one side to the other until…”

The strike of the ball is unexpected, soaring into an arc surpassing Wards. The ball bounces twice on the green, yards away from the hole.

“Balance.”

🌙

You’re wearing a skirt today. It makes Rafe's jaw tick.

Once the weather started warming with the southern sun, you had worn a skirt to class. A modest thing just above your knees and plain, paired with a light sweater. How did you not expect Rafe to concentrate solely on it throughout class? To walk his fingers on your bare thigh, hook his knuckles to tug at the fabric. It wasn’t his fault that it fits you so perfectly with a flouncy hem and fitted waist. Every guy loved those kinds of skirts on girls, coy and causally hot. How could he resist such a sight?

But ever since that one instance, you hadn’t worn it since, not until now. Not until he skipped class because he arrived home late from Kildare and texted you that he wouldn’t be there to walk you to and from class.

He’s glad he changed his mind.

Catching a glimpse of you unguarded is rare nowadays. Sometimes, Rafe just likes to look. Look at the way your hair slips down, look at how your face wrinkles with your animated expressions. You make it hard to just look when you know he is. You morph into a rabbit, frozen with the instincts that a predator is watching. Still but poised to run.

Now, your shoulders are down with a smile as you exit the lecture hall with two girls. The skirt bounces with each step, a lively flap against your thighs.

“Hi, baby.”

The soft greeting has you drawn to a stop as Rafe slinks into your path, hidden by the stone pillar that leads into a small courtyard between halls. You’re flanked by the girls, overlapping chatter halting into one note.

“…Hi.”

It’s halfhearted but your voice is so much sweeter in person than over the phone. He recognizes the girls from the lecture. It seems like you’ve made friends in his absence. The three of you do that secret language of girl eye contact, one nudging you with a smile before they’re both bidding goodbyes, walking off without you.

Rafe likes you doe-eyed and alone. Lips chapped from the morning wind. You stand a foot away like you’ve been melded into the concrete.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, o’course. I like your skirt.”

Rafe reaches out, tugging on the end of your skirt towards him with a melted smirk. Your resistance raises the hem, more skin bared as the skirt becomes more horizontal than vertical. The arousal in him amplifies as he pulls and pulls, your feet tripping twice as you’re forced into his space. He ends your cute protests with a kiss, lips warm against yours. The return of pressure from your lips thrills him.

“How was your spring break?” The ‘without me’ is swallowed down.

“You should know…you only called me every day.” Tilting your head, your face is flat except for the tiny pull at the corner of your mouth.

Rafe kisses it, humming into your skin hoping to transfer the static that’s in his veins back to you. He pats small kisses over to your lips while one hand cups the side of your neck as the other scoops under the strap of your backpack, sliding it down your shoulder. Taking your backpack after class had become a habit born from preventing you from escaping. He slangs it on his shoulder to then intertwine his hands with yours. The ability to lock you in is a bonus.

“Is that so bad?”

“Y–”

“Aren’t you goin’ to ask ‘bout mine?”

You sigh. “How was your break, Rafe?”

“Oh, thank you for asking Angel. It was great. Saw old friends, surfed a bit.” Rafe watches your eyes glaze over to the left. “Met your dad.”

Your hand spasms in his. Your eyes snap back into place. It isn’t surprise or shock or unknown information you’ve been granted to coloring your face. It’s the dawning light of a premonition come true.

“You knew.”

Rafe’s voice is tight. The unexpected indigitation that flames his chest hurts more than burns. He anticipated this. Why he didn’t tell you over the phone about it, waited until he was face to face. You weren’t the best liar with his eyes pinned on you. His fingers mirror yours with strength until a whimper’s trapped behind your lips.

“Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “I knew.”

“Any reason you didn’t tell me?”

“Many.”

“Cut the shit,” Rafe says your name with severity.

You puff out with annoyance that’s mounting to match his. Students pass by, rounding around the blockade you form on the sidewalk. One does a double take at Rafe’s curse. Grunting, he turns and marches into the empty courtyard towing you behind.

He should drop it. Wait until after he fucks you to bring it up.

But you knew.

A nag he should ignore eats at him until there’s only anger and hurtful pride. You’re still looking for a way out.

Snatching your hand away, you growl back at him with shoulders rising to your ears. Arms crossed at your chest and feet shuffle in place. Rafe ranks nails against his scalp, eyes ping-ponging along your face.

“This why you were a brat before I left?”

After the argument and the weeks leading up to spring break, you had continued questioning about Ward and his work. An anxious energy you radiated as it came closer. Rafe pegged you excited about him leaving.

The flick of your head to the side is the only verification he needs. You were expectant of their reunion.

“You didn’t…” You bite your lip. “Say anything to him, right?”

“No, I didn’t. Cause you’re gonna tell him.”

Your eyes widen until your lashes are practically in your eyebrows. Throwing your arms out to the side with closed fists, you lean with a shout. “Like the fuck I am.”

Rafe pitches your backpack behind him. Tension knots at the base of his neck, dragging a hand to roughly rub at it.

He keeps his voice flat. “When we go to Kildare, you can tell him yourself.”

“Oh-ho,” Your laughter is short and biting. “I am not going back there.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And you're so sure of this? How?” Your hip juts to the side, a hand propping on there to anchor yourself.

“Cause of that cute lil’ family tradition you got there.”

Your hand flips around, waving his sentence away. “I am a grown-ass person, Rafe. I can do whatever I want! And I want – I’m going back to California.”

You shake your head, the heel of your hand presses at your brow, blocking your vision. Rafe moves. Feet quiet on the concrete as he creeps closer.

“No, ya ain’t.” He seethes.

“I’m going back home after graduation! I’m never setting a foot back in this goddamn state!” You thrust a finger at him, inches from his chest. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Yes, the fuck you are. Or im gonna have to show everyone those pictures –”

The squeal abrupts from you, high pitched and echoing. “I don’t care! I don’t care anymore! Show whoever you want. I’ll be far away from you anyways.”

Rafe grits his teeth, molars threatening to grind into dust. Tilting his head up and shoulders down, he fights for eye contact as he works his jaw.

“And I don’t care what I have to do to fucking keep you.”

“I’m not some stray you can scoop up and lock in a cage.” Eyes narrowed and lip curled up, you push at his shoulder.

“Hm, a cage. That’s a good idea, baby.”

Lips thin in a tight line, he taps your check twice. He can’t help the dark amusement that tickles him when you jump in your skin, arms lashing out awkwardly.

“Argh! You are so insufferable. After graduation you are never seeing me again, I promise you that Rafe.”

“Either you go with me, or I go with you.” Rafe starts circling you. Board body casting a shadow over you at every angle. You stay in place but swivel your head around to keep him in your sight. An airy touch of his hand has you flinching, him smiling. “You really want to be alone with me on the other side of the country? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re goin’ to be working.” Your mouth gapes open. “Your dad will-“

“What, what? What will my dad do, Angel? You don’t know my dad. I can have him postpone this construction for fuckin’ months, years. Bleed your dad fuckin’ dry –”

“You can’t do shit. Your little power here doesn’t reach everywhere, neither does your dads.”

“You don’t know what my dad is capable of.” Rafe pokes his finger at your collarbone. “Clearly, you don’t understand what I’m capable of. Think of your sister, how would she feel if she can’t use daddy’s money to travel anymore?”

“You can’t –”

“Your dad loves his job so much, you really gonna take that away from him? Ruin your parents’ marriage? And your poor mom…”

Shoulders bounce against one another as you whirl as you growl. “Don’t talk about my mom.”

“Her sensitive little heart would be destroyed with all that grief.”

Rafe saturates you with too many words, too many worries to catch up to any of them. Circling again to face you, he twists his fist into your skirt. Hauls you closer until the hem’s dangerously high, giving him a glance at your black panties.

You squeak out his name, one hand on his bulging forearm as the other struggles to lower your skirt back down.

“I can take you right here. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees me.” His hand dips to the inviting black curtain. Finger creasing between your seam, Rafe rubs it back and forth. “And I’d get away with it.”

Your chin wavers with failed words, body taunt from leaning back. A moment of silence as his promises solidify in your mind. A breath away from crumbling

Fists strike on his chest, a snarling show of teeth as you curse and fight in his hold. Calling him every name under the sun. A tantrum if he’s ever seen one. Your knee hits his thigh, missing your true target of his groin so Rafe spins you, bear hugging you in restraint.

“Pick one.” Rafe hisses in your ear, forehead pressed to your temple. “California or Outer banks.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’d drag you down with me.” He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear.

Your head knocks at his chin as you give another thrash. Breathing compressed with his hold, you tire in mere minutes.

“Fuck!” A final shout. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Mm, go where?” The teasing tilt rolls off with victory.

“I’ll go to Outer Banks with you, you fucking prick.” Rafe loosens his arms just so, allowing you to twirl away with a heaving chest. Cheeks red and pointing a finger at him. “Until the end of the summer.”

Rafe scoffs, tapping at his chest. “Until I say.”

“When the jobs done.”

“Six months.”

“Deal.”

Both of you sigh rough and loud. Rafe feels a vein in his neck pulse with each luh-dub of his heart. Cracking his neck to the side frees a smile from him.

“See, sweetheart, I knew we’d be able to compromise.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #dark!fic #outer banks fic #pieces of the night #smut #tw #outer banks smut #dark fic

307 notes · View notes

yanderexchubbyreader · 6 months

Text

yan!m!bestfriend x gn!chubby!reader

warnings: coercion, alcohol mentions, drugging mentions, reader is under the influence, manipulative yan, noncon, forced consent

*+~~+*

- imagine having been friends with yan!bestfriend for as long as you can remember

- even in pictures of you in day care were together, both of you attached at the hip

- you’ve done everything in your life together, and while it was just simply growing up to you, it was slowly becoming a steady obsession for your friend

- imagine yan!bestfriend practically living at your house the summer after you both had graduated

- you might have gotten a little tipsy, and with yan!bestfriend being the only one there for you, you became dependent on him

- and oh my… did he take advantage of that

- he did everything you asked, patiently waiting for his turn to ask for a favor from you

- and when you were ready to head off to bed, that’s exactly when he proposed the question for you to uh… “help” him out that night with your mouth

- “come on… it’s the least you could do for me”

- even in your drunken state, you tried to refuse the proposition, which brought out a side of yan!bestfriend you’d never hope to remember

- imagine yan!bestfriend snapping, bringing up everything he’s ever done for you and comparing it to the one thing he requested

- finally, to stop him from causing a scene and waking the neighbors, you relented, much to his intense excitement

- honestly, as soon as the tip of his length was in your mouth, he did all the work

- imagine weakly pushing at his thighs everytime he pushed down your throat, your eyes watering at the speed and force of his thrusts

- when he’s close to finishing, he pulls out and jacks himself off until he cums on your face, some strands landing in your hair

- once he’s finished, he just stares at your face, committing this moment to memory so he had some material for later

- imagine he’d wipe the tears from your eyes, scooping up some of his semen with his thumb and all but forcing you to suck his digit clean

- once he has what he wants, he reassures you that it didn’t mean anything to him

- “it’s just what friends do, (Y/n)”

- he’d clean you, and put you to bed. luckily, you wouldn’t remember exactly what happened (thanks to the secret ingredient he’d added to your drinks), so he wouldn’t feel guilty about smirking at your hoarse voice the next morning

- oh yeah… you’re screwed

- literally

#yandere x chubby reader #yan x reader #yandere fantasy #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere oc #yandere #yan #yandere best friend #yandere x plussize!reader #plus size!reader #chubby!reader

298 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 3 months

Text

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 3

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 3208

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law gives you the choice to go against your doctor's recommendations as you begin your recovery. Are you clear headed enough to make the right choice?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied)

A/N: I hate hospitals 😩 But for Law I might make an exception... Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

Beeping.

What is that sound? There’s another sound.

That soun–

Fuck!

A strangled cry left your throat, pain tearing through you.

Tight, fuck it’s so tight, can’t–

Your eyes were still too droopy to open as your hands scrambled at your neck. A sharp pinch twisted against your right wrist, and you felt the pull of wires restricting its movement.

That beeping noise was louder now.

“Y/N, you’re okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Law’s deep voice pulled you out, giving you a reason to open your eyes. He pulled your hands away from scratching at the neck brace, and you slumped with relief at his touch.

Only to let out a choked scream at the pain.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Can you stay still for me? I know you can, you’re so strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong anymore.”

Your confession slipped quietly from your trembling lips as you tried to acclimate to the pain, tried to be still for him.

His brow creased as he looked down at you, and you felt pathetic. You wanted to take it back.

Law brought those cool, tattooed fingers to your face, leaving featherlight touches along your temple and cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, burning tears starting again.

“You’re right,” he rasped, brushing your tears away with his fingers, leaving the tissues in their box this time.

“You’ve been strong for so long, haven’t you? You shouldn’t have to fight so hard every day.”

Gentle sobs left your throat, interrupted by a small gasp.

His hand still traced your face in soothing lines, until he brushed his tear soaked thumb across your lips.

Your eyelids were still heavy, but you held them open to melt into the storm gray eyes above you.

“You don’t need to be strong with me, Y/N,” he breathed, close enough to leave the warmth of his words on your face. “I’ll save you.”

Beeping.

I’m with Law. I’m okay.

Foggy dreams of Law’s hands on your face made your skin flush before you opened your eyes.

That beeping got louder as you fought off the embarrassing thoughts you were having about your doctor’s hands, but the slight shift you made in the bed had you forgetting it all, groaning in pain.

“Nice and slow, Y/N. You’re safe, just take some deep breaths.”

Your doctor stepped into view, his eyes scanning your body before gifting you with a gentle smile.

Attempting a small stretch of your arms was a bad choice, but it brought your attention to the rest of your body.

The bed was still angled so that your upper body was lifted. Lying flat had been excruciating. But even with your raised position, it was difficult to look down at yourself over the neck brace.

“Where are my clothes,” you muttered, looming horror growing at the feeling of a hospital gown against your skin.

“I apologize, Y/N,” Law admitted gently, tilting his head toward the beeping machine. “I needed to monitor your vitals to ensure your safety since we used that medication to help you sleep. I’m afraid I had to cut through your top to avoid injuring your neck further. I was able to save your bra, and I have scrubs you can wear once your neck is healed enough for you to pull the clothes on by yourself.”

He just said a whole bunch of words.

Your brain decided the best way to handle all of the emotions flying through your head was to ignore them.

“Why do I have an IV?” You changed the subject, lifting your wrist, and tugging all the tubes with it.

“Again, since you hadn't had that drug before, I took this as a safety precaution. I assumed you would prefer a single needle versus the potential of many if I needed to administer more medication,” he explained as he disconnected you from the tubes, but left the placement on your wrist. “You’ve also been receiving fluids, which is essential after the traumatic night you had.”

A nod made you wince, so you thanked him softly, feeling warmth move through your chest as another hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Do you have the energy to move, Y/N? I’d like to show you the room, and do another physical exam to see if you’ve improved since last night.”

The thought of moving hit you with the sudden realization that you needed to fucking pee.

“Is there a bathroom,” you asked, holding your breath from embarrassment.

“Of course, it’s right here. Let me help you.”

After many whimpers, and groans, and heavy breaths, you were on your feet. Shaking with pain as he led you to the door, you knew that nothing else could have motivated you to walk right now.

“Do you need help sit–”

“I’ll be fine,” you blurted out, closing the door.

He’s my doctor. This is fine. He’s helping me because I’m injured, and he’s my doctor.

Those thoughts did not diminish your embarrassment, especially when you did struggle to fucking sit down.

Gritting your teeth, and clinging to the safety bar, you managed to keep at least some sliver of your dignity by not yelling for him to help you.

Shame rocked through you as you washed your hands, avoiding looking in the mirror. You didn’t want to know how wrecked you looked.

But you looked anyway.

You wanted to splash some water on your face, but couldn’t bend down to do it.

“Y/N, are you doing alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out as you fought with the ties of the gown.

Oh my gods, he took all of my fucking clothes off.

That knowledge kicked in again as you tried to make sure every inch of your ass was covered.

“Can you put me to sleep again,” you half joked, taking his hand as he helped you through the door.

“We don’t want to overdo it,” he said in that serious tone he’s so good at, leading you slowly toward the center of the room.

He sat backwards in that rolling chair.

But his chair isn’t that color…

“Is this the same room,” you interrupted him, looking around by turning your body instead of your head. You couldn’t tell if the weird sounds you were hearing were real, or if you were just getting a headache from moving around.

“No,” he hummed, nodding slowly at you. “I’m impressed you were able to notice that in this state.”

You followed the line of his arm as his tattooed finger pointed to a large door.

“Those are my quarters. I had you moved to an adjacent room so that I can be close if you are in pain, or become injured again. That vent is open so I’ll be able to hear if you need me.”

“O-Oh…”

He shifted his hand again, and you turned to follow it, your eyes a bit wide.

“You already know where your bathroom is. The third door leads out into the corridors of the Polar Tang, but Y/N,” he said, his voice taking on more force, “I request that you refrain from leaving these quarters until you are steadier on your feet. I would hate for you to become injured under my care.”

“But how–”

“Y/N,” he rasped, that low voice pulling you in, “let’s complete the exam before you tire yourself out, alright?”

“Okay.”

“There you go,” he purred, “I love seeing you take care of yourself. Do you consent to me touching you?”

Your ‘yes’ was barely audible as you tried not to let his words, and the way his words sounded with that dangerous voice, make you fall over.

Feeling his fingers on you might be your favorite thing in the world. Even as you whimpered in pain while he checked along your shoulders and spine.

“This seems to be the problem area,” he noted, tracing lightly over your left shoulder down between your shoulder blade and spine, rubbing along a few of the vertebrae.

“But my neck?”

“Everything’s connected, Y/N,” he breathed over your ear, making you shiver and wince. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how your body works.”

Fuck, his voice.

There was no way, no fucking way that you could be dripping wet in a hospital gown while your body was stiff with pain. No way that tight coil of pressure could be building in your core over the only doctor that had ever helped you, ever believed you.

I can’t fuck this up.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” you lied, catching yourself before you nodded this time.

“Let’s have you sit down. We need to take the brace off, so I can examine your neck again. It is going to be painful. Are you ready, or would you like to take a break first?”

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

“You are doing so well for me,” Law praised, gently removing the brace to press against your neck, asking you questions while you tried not to move.

How can I like his fingers touching me like this? What is wrong with me?

“Look at you. I’m so proud of how you’re handling this,” he rasped, soothing your whimpers as he secured the brace again.

“When will I be able to go home?”

Law’s jaw shifted a bit as he sat back, and it felt like the air in the room got heavy.

“As your doctor, I had to make the call to protect your health. We left your island, and my recommendation is that you remain with me for the time being. I think we both realized that one more week of treatment would not be enough support for your chronic condition. This incident with your neck further proves your need to receive continued treatment.”

“Left the– We’re underwater,” you said in a small voice, realizing what the strange clanking sounds in the background must be.

“You took me away,” you asked softly as your boyfriend’s warnings about Law started playing in your mind.

Fear ran through you then, and the metal room grew smaller, your oxygen growing harder to find. Panic hit your lungs, fast, shallow, useless breaths spiking your neck with pain.

“Y/N,” he drawled, that voice almost frightening now.

“But you were going to be there another week. Why did you take me? Why–”

“Y/N, I will take you back right now if that's what you want,” he soothed, voice warm and inviting. “Please let me explain why I had to make that choice. You weren’t able to make decisions for your own health and safety at the time. As your doctor, I had to do what I believed was best for your wellbeing.”

You stilled, your breath slowing, but staying shallow. That fuzzy distance started to take over, but you dug your nails into your palms to try to focus on what your doctor was saying.

“Your boyfriend came to the ship in the morning, demanding to take you home.”

The image in your mind built up. That fight. The keys you left in the open door.

You jolted a bit as Law laid his hand on your clenched fist.

“He refused to listen when I explained your condition, and that it would be dangerous to move you so soon. He…” Law took in a heavy breath, looking to the ground as he shook his head. When he met your eyes again, his were deep and sad, but etched with kindness.

“Y/N, your boyfriend accused me of taking advantage of your ‘obsession with being sick.”

Those words were thick like the nausea rising in your throat.

He did say little things sometimes. Things that made it seem like he didn’t believe me.

Law’s thumb stroked the back of your fist until you relaxed your hand. He took it in his before continuing with a gentle voice.

“He threatened to return with a group to take you by force. You are my patient, Y/N. I could not in good conscience release you in this current state. I had to make the call since couldn’t.”

That inner distance was coming again, all the sounds feeling washed out. Until he squeezed your hand, leaning in close.

He smells good.

“As your doctor, I must always do what is in your best interests. I believe that you should remain here under my care, at least until we have time to make progress with physical therapy. Until you feel safer in your own body.”

Your eyes had to close. It was all too much.

“However, it will always be your decision, Y/N,” he comforted. His voice was smooth, and thick, like some rich dessert. “If you choose to go against my recommendations, I will turn around right now. If you want to go back home, I will take you. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

A trembling mouth opened, but you had no words to speak.

“Y/N, I need you to really think about this. Think about what’s best for you.”

Law massaged your hand as he spoke in that liquid voice, a shiver breaking you out of the fog.

“Where was he, Y/N,” he asked, not pausing for an answer. “You walked all the way here on your own, didn’t you? The amount of pain you were in was frightening, yet you chose to suffer alone. Why didn’t you ask for his help?”

He caught your rush of tears with a tissue, his voice raspy as he came closer to dry your face.

“Do you want to go back to a place where all the doctors treat you like you’re crazy?”

Years of frustration, anger, and pain fell on you, but you tried to stay present, tried to think straight.

“Do you want to go back to a family that doesn’t believe you? To a partner that believes you’re pretending, that thinks you want to be sick?”

No. You didn’t.

But you tried to let it go, tried to think without emotions. You wanted to shake your head, to move, to fling some of these sickening feelings off of you.

But you couldn’t move. You were in too much pain.

And Law is the only person who cares.

“You know, Y/N, I understand exactly how lonely and angry you must feel.”

He trapped you in the stone wall of his eyes again, and you’d never seen this look on his face before.

“When I was a child, myself and everyone I knew got sick. They all died.”

“I—“

“Even though I wasn’t contagious, even though I was just a child, every single doctor treated me like I was trash.”

The hand that was holding yours was squeezing tighter while you were frozen by his barely contained rage.

“There was only one person in the world who cared about me,” he muttered, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“He did everything he could to save me. Even when I fought him. Even when I hurt him... He never stopped.”

The overwhelming closeness you’d felt in that metal room was easing, and the heat of tears building in your throat wasn’t for yourself this time.

Law rested his palm against your cheek, and that foggy dream floated through your mind.

“I’m not like all those doctors that abandoned us, that left us to suffer all alone,” he rasped, the twitching of his creasing brows giving you more emotion than you’d seen from him before.

“I will never abandon you, Y/N.”

His promise filled the air, as if this metal room were a ringing bell, the vibrations wracking through your body.

I feel like I should be scared. But why? He’s helping me. No one has ever helped me before. He’s just intense because he knows.

He knows this pain even more than I do.

Of course he’d do all of this to help me. He’s just helping me.

Law kept his hand on your cheek while he waited for you to think. He didn’t push, just gave you time. You heard the heart rate monitor starting to slow as you breathed with him.

He had taught you to follow his breathing during exercises, and now it felt natural, soothing.

“I want to stay with you. If you want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you,” he purred, brushing a few strands from your forehead before stroking his fingers through your mussed up hair.

“I’m your doctor. You can trust me.”

“Law?”

“Are you alright,” he answered as he charged through the connecting door.

“I’m fine. Well, the same,” you reported, trying to shift your body up the bed.

It was getting difficult for you to tell the passage of time underwater, but you knew it had been at least a week.

Your pain was reducing, and your range of motion was improving, but you were still on bed rest unless Law was with you to guide your movements.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you said, a sheepish grin pulling at your lips. “I’m just… I’m so bored, Law. And if I listen to Bepo’s Uta tone dial one more time, I’m going to go insane.”

That crooked smile made your skin flush as he walked toward you. He started piling pillows onto your lap, gently moving your arms out of the way before propping them up.

“I believe you’ve healed enough to read a book with some support,” he rasped as he brought his fingers to your skin. He pressed lightly against your shoulders, your jaw, and around the edges of the brace. You only winced a little when he stuck his fingers in to check the tightness.

“Although, you’ll need to make sure you’re not straining yourself, so we’ll have to start with short periods of time. Can you do that for me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a smile. It felt like your birthday, finally getting to open and enjoy your presents.

“You like mysteries, right,” he asked as he walked toward the door.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Your smile wilted just a bit as you tried to recall telling him that.

You hated being so loopy all the time. It felt like you were missing out on parts of your life.

“This is one of my favorites,” you almost squealed, catching yourself before you wiggled in your hospital gown.

“Really,” he teased as he took it back, flipping through the pages. “I’ll go find you something you haven’t read then.”

“No, please. I love it, thank you.”

“Show me how you’ll be holding it, Y/N.”

Law’s hands on your arms made you crave his massages more than seemed healthy. With your neck as it had been, he wouldn’t risk hurting you.

You still couldn’t lie flat anyway.

But I’m getting better. Then we can start. He can teach me how to take care of my body. He can touch me again.

Your own thoughts sent blood rushing to your face as you dove in, getting lost in one of your favorite mysteries.

Even though you knew who the villain was, you always loved the thrill of the chase.

And you still weren’t sure who you were rooting for.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I'm having so much fun 😈

Part 4

198 notes · View notes