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agustdiv1ne · 7 months

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telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful.

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being.

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get.

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe.

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could.

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now.

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane.

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different.

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.”

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends.

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to.

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies.

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you.

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight.

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior.

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool.

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too.

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck.

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him.

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears.

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway.

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it.

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become.

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek?

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.”

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly.

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks.

reality crashes down on his head.

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe.

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings.

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure.

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive.

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him.

at least, he likes to think that you do.

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold.

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning.

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace.

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel.

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him.

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster.

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself.

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win.

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious.

just a little innocent curiosity.

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch.

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv.

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on.

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again.

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually.

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate.

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize.

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep.

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now?

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused.

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck.

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward.

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—”

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?”

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?”

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action.

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him.

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad.

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck.

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.”

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead.

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away.

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough.

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it.

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?”

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever.

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want.

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore.

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you.

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick.

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you.

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner.

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off.

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty.

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips.

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does.

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

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ohmymalice · 1 month

Text

Schlatt finding out reader watches edits of him (this is incredibly self indulgent)

"I'm too tired for this." He mumbled, feeling a bit groggy from waking up. He heard some music come from your end of the bed and looked over.

"Y/n...Y/n god you need to stop your midnight scrolling..." He yawned, shuffled to your side of the bed, holding you close as he watches you panic and quickly swipe away at the edits of him that you watched.

"Oh? If you wanna see me so bad you can just turn to my side of the bed, Bubba." He pressed his lips up to your temple, feeling a small smile as he kisses you.

"Thought you were asleep, didn't wanna wake you." You didn't hesitate pulling him closer, kissing his cheek. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his shoulder, letting his scent fill your nose.

"If you think I'm gonna move past the fact you were scrolling under #jschlattedits you are incredibly wrong." He chuckles as he grabs your phone, looking at your most recent favorited tik toks and seeing a wave of edits of him.

"I'm never gonna let you live this down."

And he stuck to his word indeed because the very next day when they filmed a chuckle sandwich episode, Ted brought up the topic somehow and Schlatt immediately lit up the moment he remembered the events last night.

"Ted— I got quite the damn story for you." He smirks as he remembers your sleepy face, how completely engrossed you looked as you watched edits, not knowing he was right behind you.

"My girlfriend— Y/n we've been public for a few months, she recently got into tik tok and started watching edits. I don't know how she found them, but she found edits of me and started saving them and I swear I've never seen her look at anything like that. It was as if she was trying to burn that shit into her memory, I couldn't help but laugh."

Ted stared into the lens of his webcam, a look that clearly stated how invested he was.

"Does she know she can make a folder on tik tok—" Ted asks and Schlatt cackles at the memory.

"Oh you fuckin' bet, god I'd make fun of her for it but if I was in her spot and she was famous and people made edits of her, I'd watch all of them too, folder n' all."

"You heard it here folks, Schlatt wants you guys to make edits of Y/n!"

A week passes and the new episode is out and soon everyone started making edits of Y/n (since schlatt requested)

It was late at night, she looked to their bed side table and saw it was around 1:11 am, she heard a familiar tik tok audio that made her snap her head towards Schlatt's side of the bed in interest. It's the audio of her favorite Schlatt edit.

She sits up a little and squints her eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting in front of her and realizes someone made an edit of her and Schlatt has been watching it on loop.

"Look who's watching edits of me now."

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you

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sweatervest-obsessed · 2 months

Note

okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁

THIS IS SUCH A MESS but i hope you get my point</33

Um yeah so, absolutely. Some angst for you indeed. I love a convoluted and angsty fight, especially whenever someone is arguing in circles with someone else because they're both just so passionate but angry, anyways, heheh, enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

TW: Arguing, mentions of violence, mentions of prison, mentions of guns, honestly if you watched CM then that is your TW.

“I just want to know why you’ve been so distant lately. I mean, this is the first time I’m speaking with you one on one in over a week, and it’s because I manage to catch you in the office at nine fucking pm Y/n.”

"So what do you want me to say, Spence? What could I possibly have to say to you? I'm pretty sure Jennifer said everything there is to say."

This caused Spencer to lose all of the oxygen in his body. It froze up. You weren’t supposed to know what JJ had said, no one was supposed to know what JJ had said.

You and Spencer were in the bullpen of the BAU. Luckily for both of you, since it was so late, no one else was there. Neither of you were extremely public when it came to your relationship, which meant neither of you would have chosen to have this conversation fight in a public place, but no one else was around.

I want you to say something you're afraid to say. Something you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good. Cause if it's not, it's going to be the last thing you ever say. What's it gonna be?

“How did you know about that?” He whispered.

“JJ asked Garcia to go through the footage, apparently she wanted to make sure no one could ever access the audio from it.”

"Y/n I--" Spencer closed his eyes, his jaw set. He didn’t even know what to say at this point. You had both clearly made up your minds about this, yet neither of you wanted to see the carnage, the outcome of it all. So, instead, you chose to stand in the middle of the bullpen, fighting against one another.

Fighting for one another.

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about this."

“Spencer–you didn’t even tell me about it, I had to find out about it from Penelope, and who knows who else she told. You were afraid to tell me, yet that giant genius brain of yours can’t, oh I don't know, comprehend just a teeny tiny little bit why this makes me upset?" For the millionth time this evening, you scoffed.

Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.

"Y/n--"

Spence, I've always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and now things are really just too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.

"Fuck Spencer I have been in love with you since I first fucking joined this team." You gasped out. The air around your head got thinner and felt dizzying like you were floating through the air now that this was off your chest. "And I loved you when you asked me on a date. I loved you through Emily's death. I loved you when you asked me to move in with you. I loved you through when Morgan left the team. I loved you through Hotch leaving. I loved you through fucking Cat Adams. I loved you even after I came home one night and you were making out with her against our fucking door. I loved you through every single case and every single flaw. I loved you when you fucking relapsed a few years ago. I even loved you when you went MIA for weeks and then found out you were in a fucking Prison. And I still fucking love you now. But, instead of being together, you asked for a break."

"That's not fair..." He whispered.

"What? Respecting you and your boundaries? Knowing that you needed time to readjust after you had been released, and believing in your promise that once you felt ready to try a relationship again you'd come to me and talk to me about it? And then watching as you fall for JJ all fucking over again? With your stupid fucking glances. This isn't a goddamn tv show Reid, I can see when you both stare at one another across the room, I can see it."

"We don't.."

"You do. You both do. And then, you tell me that Jennifer fucking Jareau is willing to make her last words the fact that she has always loved you and has always been in love with you, and you---" Your voice froze, the sound cutting out. You looked straight at Spencer, not caring about the tears running down your cheeks. You watched as his hand twitched up. When the two of you were dating, Spencer used to wipe away every single of your tears. But now he wouldn't even lift his hand.

"I--what."

You took another breath, trying to calm down, and really think through your words. "This woman who has been your best friend for over a decade just fucking confessed her love for you, in a life-or-death situation, and you're telling me, that she just fucking made it up, pulled it out of her ass, or at least is telling you that she did and now the two of you are going to act like everything is normal and okay?"

"Y/n..."

"You were in love with her for years Spencer. And now, all of a sudden she confesses her love to you, and that changes nothing?"

"No, Y/n, it doesn't. It changes nothing. Does it hurt a bit? Yes. Does it change the fact that I love you? No." Spencer was trying to keep his voice level, hoping you'll continue to match his volume since he didn't want anyone to potentially stumble by and hear your argument. His hand reached for your wrist, but you couldn't bear to feel his skin against yours.

This caused you to let out a water laugh, tears sliding into your mouth, ugly but pouring down your cheeks. A waterfall of grief in all of its rawest forms.

"You still love me."

"Why-Why is that funny."

"I have been waiting to hear those words since you walked out of that fucking prison and the first time I hear it in years, it's because you're trying to justify loving someone else."

"That's not true."

Make it a million and one, you scoffed.

"I have loved you since the moment you first walked through those doors. You were in a pale blue pair of pants, and a black sweater--I remember it because Emily complimented the pants. I spend my whole life loving you and manage to never fully give you every single piece of love I have because there's simply not enough time in the world. I would kill for you. I would go to prison all over again if it meant you would be okay in this world." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his voice strained. But his eyes never left yours. "Last week, when that unsub had his gun against your head, I fired before he even spoke, not because I assessed it was the right time or whatever fucking excuse I gave to Emily. I fired that bullet because if you died in front of me, I'd......The only thing I was thinking about the entire fucking time JJ and I were stuck in that room was how the fuck I was going to be able to tell you I love you one last time because I wasn't fucking smart enough to take my chance and say it to you every single day."

Your chest was heaving, but you didn't move towards him. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel real.

Spencer was able to take your hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, trying to get you to look at him. "I should have told you the moment I was ready to try a relationship again, but I thought you...I thought you had moved on because I wasn't worth waiting for."

This caused you to laugh again, eyes red from crying. "Don't fucking start with that shit Spencer.''

"I'm telling the god's honest truth."

"I waited for you throughout all of Prison. I waited for you through Maeve. I am still pathetically standing right fucking in front of you, waiting for you to hopefully realize that you still love me."

He kissed your hand. "And I don't deserve you at all for it."

"Do you still love her?"

"Y/n."

"Answer the question, Spencer. Or I'm done. I-I can't do this any longer, watching you....the way she looks at you just--"

Spencer pulled you into his arms, enclosing your body in his arms and kissing the side of your head. "I have always, and will always, love you Y/n Y/l/n. And I want to spend the rest of our lives proving to you that I would choose you, I want you, over and over again."

“That’s not an answer Spencer.” You whispered, rigid in his arms.

“I-I.” He closed his eyes. “I did. And I still do love her, but not like that. I haven’t been i-in love with her since the moment you walked through those doors.”

Spencer felt the weight of your head against his shoulder as you finally conceded and hugged him back, tightly. “Let's go home.” He muttered into your head, waiting patiently for you to hum in agreement.

Neither of you moved though. You both stood there, locked eternally in the other’s embrace, enjoying the peace you felt for the moment, even though tomorrow was a new day, where you would have to sort through how you really felt about all of this.

But tonight, you stood with your arms around your love, forever.

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houseofanticipation · 2 months

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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned #r@pe fantasy #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #breeding toy #r@petoy #r@pe kink

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gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

Animals

Summary: Leon comes back home to you with one thing on his mind.

Pairing: Vendetta or ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 889

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption. This work is not for minors, 18+ only

Warnings: breeding kink, rough sex, Leon's very aggressive in this but like the good kind of aggressive, impregnation, swearing, light choking

A/N: Decided to write up a one shot to hopefully jump start my brain so I can finish part 4 of There's No Escape. This is purely self indulgent but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! This is not proof read so please excuse any and all grammatical errors! This is lightly based on an audio by Nowhere Eternity!

It’s late in the evening, the sun just below the horizon as you stand over your kitchen sink and do the dishes from making dinner. Your boyfriend should hopefully be home soon, having just returned from some assignment for the D.S.O.. It’s been weeks since he’s last been home; you couldn’t wait to see him.

You hear him suddenly come through the door, “Babe, I’m home!”

Normally, he takes his time taking off his shoes and jacket, but you hear his heavy footsteps approach the kitchen at an alarming rate.

“There you are,” he growls, “c’mere.”

“Leon what are you--” you are suddenly cut off as his powerful arms wrap around your waist, burying his face into your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he moans into your neck as he begins kissing up your neck.

“Leon, I’m trying to do the dishes…” you reply, still holding a pan in your hand.

“Put the fucking thing down,” Leon growls, his hands gripping onto your waist almost to the point that it was painful.

You immediately drop the pan into the sink, unsure and concerned about what on earth has gotten into Leon.

“Sweetheart.. Are you ok?” you ask hesitantly.

“I’ve decided…” Leon starts, you can hear him starting to undo his belt on his pants, “that you’re going to give me a baby.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” you reply, flabbergasted.

“I know you don’t think you’re ready, but I promise you… you are, baby.” he continues before burying his face back into your neck.

You arch your back into him, feeling his hard cock on your ass as you push yourself into him. You can hear him still undoing his belt.

“This… stupid FUCKING belt!” he growls before finally getting his belt off, “your turn, get these fucking pants down.”

Your wet fingers struggle to get your button undone on your pants when Leon’s fingers suddenly reach around, helping you get your pants undone, “there you go, baby, I got you.”

As soon as your pants are undone, he pulls them down along with your underwear. You can hear him stroking himself. He pushes you into the counter, forcing you to lean forward and push your hips back towards him as you feel his cock push against your drenched pussy.

“Look at how wet you are, you want me to fuck a baby into you, I know you do…”

With one, hard thrust, he sheathes himself completely inside of you, causing you to yelp. You grip the counter as Leon fucks you relentlessly.

“I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my baby inside you…” Leon purrs, his hands gripping your hips so tight that his fingers are leaving bruises on you, “you’re going to look so fucking beautiful…”

Unconsciously, you reach down to your clit and start to rub it, causing your legs to twitch as you let out soft moans. Leon’s hand grabs your wrist aggressively, pulling your hand away from your needy clit.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I want you to cum on my dick when I pump you full of my cum, sweetheart,” he growls.

He picks up his pace, all you hear is the sound of his hips slapping against your ass along with his animalistic growls. Your eyes roll into your head as you moan his name like a prayer, begging for release.

“Are you ready to be a mommy?” Leon asks, his right hand reaches up to grasp your throat, pulling you back towards him as he bites your ear.

“Y-Yes…!” you manage to cry out as Leon puts pressure on your throat.

“I can’t wait to kiss your growing belly…” he moans into your ear as he continues pounding into you, “on my way down to eat your pussy.”

You cry out again, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and raw emotion of it all.

“Leon… I-I’m close…!”

“Cum with me baby, go ahead and rub that clit, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You reach back down and rub circles into your aching core. After a few moments, you come completely undone in a mess of cries and moans with Leon’s name sprinkled here and there. You feel the hot sensation of Leon’s own release as he pushes himself deep inside you. You feel the head of his cock pressing into your cervix. He holds himself there, breathing heavily as his cock continues to twitch inside of you.

You start to shift your hips to have him slip out of you, but Leon stops you, “No. Let me stay inside you just a little longer…”

You both simply stand there, Leon’s arms wrapped protectively around your waist as you lean back, nuzzling into him, telling him how much you love and missed him when he was gone. Leon does eventually pull out, you can hear his seed drip out of you onto the kitchen floor. He pulls his pants back up, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Go ahead and finish up the dishes and meet me in the bedroom, sweetheart,” Leon says as he begins to walk away.

“The bedroom?” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him as you put your own pants back on.

Leon stops, turning to you to give you a devious smirk, “Yes. The bedroom. Because we have to do it again.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vendetta!leon kennedy #ID!leon kennedy #infinite darkness!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes

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gardens-light · 8 months

Text

Shooting Stars

Since breaking into K.S.I, more questions than answers were being raised. It seemed like things were becoming more unclear, than they originally were. And in the midst of all the chaos, the secret (or not so secret) romance between you and Optimus begun to build. With your heart and his Spark, yearning for one another. The pair of you slowly got to a point, where you could only resist temptation for so long...

Content: Course Language. Events takes place in Transformers- Age of Extinction (no spoilers.) Fluff followed by NSFW smut. (This chapter is basically pure smut, as my head has been in the gutter for the past week.) Optimus Prime x F/Human reader.

Inspired by the song: Airplanes- B.O.B

Word Count: 2,800.

Sparkmate Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 (End)

Two Days Later

With the nights growing colder, the thin blankets that Cade found only did so much. The stained-glass windows of the cathedral no longer seemed beautiful- but more of an annoyance, as the chill air would sweep through the cracked glass.

And in addiction of Cade's snoring, sleep seemed impossible to come. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling a little as you grew bored of staring up at the ceiling, for who knows how long by now.

Sitting up and rubbing your temples, trying to allow your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit darkness. As you carefully exited out of your sleeping bag, trying to disturb the others as little as possible. Hands running along the cold brick walls, while you made your way towards the main hall.

Nerves crawled up your back, as a low rumble echoed through the main hall. Your breath hitching slightly with each step, stopping whenever the low rumble slightly peeked in volume. Moonlight lazily shined through the windows, as the overcast sky slowly cleared.

It’s just Hound. Your thoughts assured, while a suttle sigh of relief left your lungs.

The muscles in your body slightly relaxing, as the sight of the Autobot snoring away teased a smile upon your lips. Tip-toing towards the makeshift table and quietly making a protein shake. A steady breath returned to you, as the dim darkness soon grew on you, making your surroundings somewhat more comfortable.

While taking a few sips from the drink, your head tilted to the side a little, as a familiar shadow fell across the table from outside. Curiosity stirred your thoughts, causing your body to carefully tread towards a large hole in the wall.

“I thought it might have been you.”

Optimus’ optics fell onto you, a small smile spreading across his faceplate. Watching you carefully climb over the lose bricks, with your drink in hand. You approached the mechanical giant, as he sat upon the ground. Leaning against the solid wall of the cathedral.

He felt your eyes study his features, “are you alright, Optimus? You look tired.”

“I’ll be alright, Sweet Spark.” His soothing voice assured, “you do not need to worry about me.-”

“But I do, Optimus.” You shyly admitted, walking towards the gazebo, that still had string lights and fairy lights surrounding it. “Especially what you said earlier.”

You watched his optics quickly avoid your questioning gaze. His helm lowering slightly, as guilt played on his processors and slightly squeezed his Spark. You wasn’t supposed to hear that...

“’What did you mean? ‘You’re done fighting for humans.’ You didn’t mean that... did you?”

“Y/N...” Optimus sighed, hesitating before looking back at you. “How many more of my kind must be sacrificed to atone for your mistakes?”

“What do you think ‘being human’ means?” you questioned. Another arrow of guilt struck Optimus’ core, as his audio receivers detected the underlying hurt within your voice. “That’s what we do, we make mistakes. But sometimes the most amazing things comes from those mistakes.”

You softly bit your bottom lip, fingers playing with the cup as you took a moment.

“When I fixed you... it was for a reward.” The words tasted like poison upon your tounge, as regret slowly squeezed your heart. But at the same time, a sensation of relief washed over you. Like a long bottled-up secret could finally break free. “That was it. That was the only reason why. For the money.”

Optimus slowly turned his attention back onto you, his expression softening as his optics watched a single tear roll down your cheek.

“And that was me making a mistake. But without it, you wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be here.”

Reaching out for him, a slight ease relaxed your aching heart as Optimus still welcomed your touch. A loving sigh escaping him, as your delicate fingers ran the back of his servo.

“So... even if you have no faith in us, all I’m asking is you do what Dad taught me and Tessa. Look past all the junk and see the treasures.” Your hand ran up towards his wrist, gently pulling out your iron ring from under his metal plates. “You need to have faith, Prime, in who we can be.”

Optimus’ free servo curled into a relaxed fist, gently using the knuckle of his index digit to brush away a tear from your cheek. His touch feathered down your body, fingertips tracing each and every curve which the Autobot has now memorized. Carefully wrapping it around your waist, picking you up and bringing you closer to his height.

You were just about to say something, but Optimus’ lips lightly pressed against your own. Giving you a passionate kiss, as both closed your eyes, melting into each other's embrace. The cup slipped from your hand, landing upon the ground with a small shatter, while you wrapped both arms around the Autobot’s neck.

“Forgive me, my Sweet Spark.” Optimus pleaded, his kiss trailing down your neck.

“I-I just don’t want to lose you.” you turned your head to the side, giving him more room to kiss your neck.

“You could never lose me-”

The sound of an airplane's engine roared above, causing Optimus to briefly break away. As you both looked up at the night sky, seeing the lights from the metal wings.

“If only wishes could be made upon airplanes, like we do with shooting stars.” You sighed. Only to chuckle a little, that sounded a little corny.

“Why? What would you wish for?”

Your eyes returned to Optimus’ optics, “that we could have a moment of peace, with no interruptions. Just... Just us two being alone.”

“Well... we’re alone now.” The Autobot spoke, the small spark of desire zapping within his core. Causing his processors to stir his mind towards temptation. His thumb gently rubbing small circles upon your lower back.

A flirtatious smile teased the corners of your lips, “then... perhaps we should make the most of it.”

Without hesitation, Optimus’ lips returned to yours. As he carefully laid you upon the curved roof of the gazebo, his free servo trailing down towards the waist band of your PJ bottoms.

“I’ll start slow.” He promised, briefly allowing his lips to part from yours. “If I ever get too much. Please tell me, Sweet Spark.”

You silently nodded, as a small shade of pink dusted your cheeks.

Bringing both servos towards your thighs, massaging the muscles. While he placed passionate kisses along your neck, towards your collarbone. Butterflies disburse in your stomach, as a warming amber begun to flicker within your core.

Hearing your soft moans against his audio processors, heat begun to rise beneath Optimus’ metal plates. The fans in his vents barely able to keep his temperature at bay.

A low sigh escaped your lips, as Optimus’ glossa traced the curves of your cleavage. A shy smile teasing the corners of your mouth, as a satisfied hum rumbled deep within his throat. Hands embracing his helm, as Optimus’ mouth danced over your clothed breasts, softly biting through the fabric, leaving suttle bite marks upon your skin.

“Optimus...”

Your torso rolled and moved against his mouth. Hands exploring the worn parts of his helm, caressing his old battle scars. Your eyes closed, as your head gently rested against the gazebo’s roof.

Your breath hitched slightly, as Optimus’ placed a last kiss upon your hip. The small ambers within your core slowly rolled into a warm flame, once your eyes met his loving gaze. His hands cupping your ass, occasionally giving it a cheeky squeeze, as the desire pulsing through his Spark tore away the remaining pieces of his self-control.

“Don’t stop.” You encouraged, seeing the lust glossing over his optics.

A shaky breath leaving his lips, as you ran your hands towards your clothed core. Feeling Optimus’ digits twitch, as you opened your legs, causing the Autobot to fall onto his knees. His glossa licking his bottom lip, breath hitching as you slowly tugged your bottoms down your hips.

The scent of your arousal drove Optimus into a spin, a burning desire of want pulsing through his wires, as his beating Spark cried for satisfaction.

Sh-She smells so good. His processors teased.

“Th-These... are in the way.” Optimus lowly spoke, his servo’s gently tugging the waistband of your bottoms down a little more.

“Remove them then.”

A breathless gasp escaped you, as the Autobot tore away the clothing along with your laced undergarments. The sound of the tearing fabric leaving your body made your soaked core clench around nothing. As Optimus carelessly threw the items aside, burying his faceplate between your thighs before the clothes could even reach the ground.

Muffled whimpers tried to leave you, as you bit your bottom lip. Body quivering and legs trembling, as Optimus’ glossa caressed your folds. His servos returning to your thighs, gently placing your legs over his shoulders. Before using one of his servos to tease your wet, throbbing entrance.

Your back arched against the roof, a moan slipping from your mouth, as Optimus’ middle digit slowly entered your sweet spot. The satisfied growl coming from the back of the Autobot’s throat, rippled against your skin. His lips tenderly kissing tangled the nerves of your clit, as his digit pushed more into your depth. Your soaked core relaxing, as his servo gently rocked against you. Ripping more muffled whimpers and whines from you, with each plunge of his digit.

Electric volts raced through Optimus’ wires, as fireworks burst within his Spark. His engine revving, low moans rumbling within his throat, as his optics looked up at you. A smile forming upon his lips, as he witnessed the hot mess you slowly tuned into.

“You’re so wet, my darling.” His voice cooed, “you’re practically dripping down me. Perhaps, I should clean you up.”

Before words could form a question, a moan slipped from your lips as Optimus’ servo retreated from your core. Eyes widening, as his mouth kissed and sucked upon the glistening folds of your entrance. Your nails digging into his helm, scratching the navy-blue paint, as his glossa plunged into you without hesitation.

“Optimus! Optimus!”

His free servo quickly clasped against your mouth, muffling the whines of his name. A speechless command for quiet, as his passionate assault upon your soft spot didn’t ease.

Your eyes rolled shut, arching your back and melting into the heated moment. As your legs spread a little more, giving Optimus more space to push his lips against you. Allowing his glossa to go deeper into your wet depths.

His free servo slipped under the hem of your shirt, cupping and foundling with your breast. As the other trailed down, resting upon your neck. The tightening of your pussy around Optimus’ glossa, made his Spark begging for more.

You were unlike anything he’d ever had. How your soft, organic body molded just oh so perfectly, against his servos and faceplate. The sweet essence of your soaked core, dripping down his glossa- providing a taste that made the Prime wonder how he ever lived this long without it. The sound of your voice moaning his name felt like a beautiful melody to him. A sirens song that you sang only for him.

Your eyes fluttered open, as a breathless gasp slipped from your mouth. Biting your bottom slip, while another moan of Optimus’ name bubbled in your throat. Heat erupted in your core, a burning fire of desire warming your body, as an ache built up between your legs. Your hips rocking against Optimus’ faceplate, as nerves tangled together within your lower adomiain. A wave of pleasure building up, as the Autobot devoured your wet pussy. His glossa gliding in and out of your soaked entrance, lathering up your essence upon his glossa, like he had been stranded in a desert for days. And your body was the oasis, which held the key to a lifesaving nectar.

“Oh...” you whined, as Optimus pulled away, causing your hand to slip down by your sides again. The wave of pleasure slowly settling down, as the fire within your core caused an ache. His servo retreating from underneath your shirt.

“Forgive me, Sweet Spark.” He lowly spoke, wiping your glistening essence off his mouth and chin. Using the back of his servo, “but I need some... relief of my own.”

His servo’s gently caressed your lower back, cradling your soft body as he picked you up. Bringing you closer to him, as Optimus shifted into a standing position.

Your blush radiating a little more warmth upon your cheeks, as your eyes lowered to his modesty plate. Biting your lip a little, as the metal buckled from some hidden pressure behind it.

Optimus’ low groans caught brought your attention back, noticing that the Autobot had trouble stepping over the fence which was on the left side of the of the courtyard. The fence divided the courtyard of the abandoned cathedral, and the community pool next door.

Sitting down upon the overgrown grass, you straddled Optimus’ lap as he bent down and cupped your face. Placing soft, delicate kiss upon the top of your head and forehead. You could feel his modesty buckling more beneath you, as you grinded against the surprisingly light metal.

“Be mine, my love.” His breathless plea brushed against your ear. Causing the fire in your core to burst, as Optimus’ Spark pulsed through his wires, “spend one night with this Prime, and I swear you’ll never want to love another.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, as a loving sigh escaped your lips. “You already make feel like I don’t want another, Optimus Prime. For it’s you who has my heart- my whole heart.”

You slightly adjusted your position, as Optimus removed his modesty plate. Eyes widening as you admired the size of his spike, the flickering flames within your core burned into a heat of want. A fire matching Optimus’ electric pulses of desire.

Positioning himself near your close, using the tip of his spike to tease your throbbing entrance. Servo’s trailing down your torso, feeling every delicate curve as his palms rested against your outer thighs. His digits caressing the soft skin of your ass.

A moan slipping from you, as his spike slipped into your soaking core. Your hands sliding from his faceplate, and onto his chassis. Gripping onto his chest plate, as your velvety walls felt every ribbed inch that Optimus gently thrusted into you.

Optimus’ helm slowly tilted back, as his optics rolled shut. His engine purring, his Spark pulsing, vents cooling as he began to thrust into you. Cables tightened throughout his body, as the sensation of your essence dripping down him, sent Optimus’ processors into a spin. His scanners picking up your racing heart, as his Spark matched its rhythm. A knot begun to tighten deep within your core, as your body adjusted to the Autobot’s size.

Your features flushed red, breasts bouncing with each thrust as you leaned forwards. The water reflecting off the outdoor pool, made the sweat upon your body glimmer slightly, as it dripped down your neck and back. Hair sticking to you, as your forehead rested against Optimus’ chassis, low whimpers and moans leaving your lips, as his hips picked up rhythm.

“Primus! You’re so tight! So wet!”

His digits begun to clench your ass, causing a low hiss to slip from you. Biting your bottom lip, trying to stop a scream of pleasure escape you. As you bounced and grind against his spike, never feeling so stretched yet so full at the same time. Knowing fair well that this mechanical God of a man, has absolutely ruined you. Optimus’ spike plunged into your soaked core, each thrust hitting your cervix harder and harder. Teasing the knot behind it, to come undone.

“Y-You feel so good-”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

A satisfied growl rumbled deep within Optimus’ throat, your breathless command making the pulsing electricity within him, burst like fireworks. His optics fluttering open, as he tried to blink away the lust that glossed over his vision.

“Your body was made for my love, Sweet Spark.” Gripping tightly upon your ass, making your body bounce harder against him. Pushing your hips down and meeting his, the tip of his spike slapping against your g-spot.

“O-Optimus... Optimus!”

Your grip upon his chassis tightened, as the knot in your core caused your legs to quiver. The rocking and thrusting of your hips, turning into an unforgiving pace, as your wave of pleasure began to build. Cables tightened inside Optimus’ body, as his body prepared for an upcoming overload.

“Oh! Oh, fuck.”

A breathless gasp escaped Optimus’, as your soaked core tightened around his throbbing spike. Your body falling against his chassis, as the warm feeling of his trans-fluids painted your insides. His sticky fluid, and your glistening essence covering your thighs and his.

A small whimper left your lips, as Optimus carefully lifted you off his spike. Your heavy breathes fogging up his chassis, as your fingers scratched a little more of his blue paint off. Eyes fluttering, your body slumping against him, as it felt like all the energy and strength was taken from your body. Barely able to lift your head, as you gave the Autobot a contented smile. His vents working overtime, trying to cool down the warmth that radiated from his body.

Cradling you against him, Optimus carefully shuffled towards the pool. Lowering himself into the water, making sure that the level only came to your waist. Both happily sighing as the cool water, felt refreshing against your warm bodies.

“This... feels nice.” Your tone was sleepy, as your head rested against his chest.

“It does.” Optimus placed a soft kiss upon the top of your head. His free servo grabbing a nearby towel, dragging it into the water, and wrapping it around your waist. Giving you a little bit of modesty. “Rest, my Sweet Spark. For I shall watch over you.”

“I love you, Optimus Prime.”

“And I you, Y/N Yeager.”

Tag List

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sanspuppet · 6 months

Note

Sooo! I’ve been obsessed with how low Mingis voice got for the Bouncy stage at the TMA. So I’ve been thinks a lot abou this scenario:

- reader is part of Eden’s team, is always on the studio, and is friendly with Ateez.

- She has the biggest crush on Mingi, but never really acted on it, choosing to keep things professional. She was very good at hiding, but she would get flustered every time his voice went low.

- It’s the day Ateez is prerecording audios for the TMA, and Mingi just dropped the lowest “slow it down make it bouncy”, and obviously her brain just started malfunctioning.

- She though no one noticed, but Mingi did, since he was staring straight at her when recording. And he couldn’t wait to make late nights at the studio far more interesting.

That’s as far as I got. Obviously dirty ass smut.

Hope you like the idea, it’s been living rent-free on my mind 🥵

THIS GIRL IS SO DAMN RELATABLE like- i almost fainted hearing his voice, i wasn't expecting that to be so freakin low 😩 anyways- i love the idea so here you go! hope you enjoy

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI)

PAIRING: dom!Mingi x sub!afab!reader

W/T: unprotected sex, spanking

Thoughts were getting pretty hard to control everytime you'd have to record Ateez new bangs, obviously you couldn't do anything about it, if not just staring at Mingi when he was about to sing his future iconic line. But, if you wanted to keep that job to yourself, you'd better be professional, that's why you've always tried to avoid how your body reacted hearing his low, raspy, and damn sexy voice. After every record, the only thing that was in your mind, was Mingi, his expressions while singing, how is Adam's apple moved when he drank water, or even how sweaty and tired he was when you'd have some time to watch the members do dance practice.

You were sitting in front of the recording stuff, ready (maybe not so ready) to prerecord the performance that Ateez would do the next week. You were turning on the microphone, when the members entered the studio, waving hands and bowing at the all of you. Your heart fluttered as you saw Mingi smirking at you, with that confidence that always made you almost fell on your knees, and instantly melt. The recording took a few hours, and coincidentally, Mingi was the last one. You forced yourself not to distract from your work, while hearing him singing. You were doing a great job about it, until you heard the lowest tone Mingi would ever get: "Slow it down, make it bouncy jigeum butteo fly" he singed, staring at you, making you already panick inside. Your mind completely stopped for a few seconds, and tried to recover from the sexiest thing you'd ever heard. You turned your head, looking at Eden, hoping that he didn't noticed your reaction, and fortunately, he didn't, being too focused on his work. You let out a deep sigh once Mingi got out of the recording studio, and sat on the little couch, next to Yunho.

"Good work, y'all. See you tomorrow." Eden complimented the members, and opened the door to let them go. Technically, your work was now done, and you could just go back home. But the temptation of seeing Mingi a little more, forced you to stay. You got out the studio and went to the nearest coffee machine. You were about to drink your iced americano when you heard that unmistakable voice, and saw the figure of 8 men walking by. You almost choked yourself when you findend Mingi passing next to you, smiling. You waited to finish your drink, before heading towards the dance practice room. You positioned youself in front of the small square of glass on the door, so you could see the members. They were all coordinated and extremely good, but no need to deny, that only Mingi got your total attention. It was about 40 minutes that you were staring at them through the door, when you heard your phone ringing. In less than 1 minute that you were checking your new messages, you heard the door opening, and a tall man looking down at you.

"O-oh s-sorry" you stuttered, not capable to defend the reason you were standing right there.

"Hi, was it good my record today?" Mingi smirked again, approaching you.

"Y-yeah..."

He nodded: "I noticed that you particularly liked it" he winked at you, and then headed towards the bathroom. Once he got back, all the members were ready to left and return to their dorms, expect Mingi:

"Don't worry guys, i'll took a shower here and go back at the dorm later." he said to them, after they left the practice room. Despite you were expecting him take all of his stuff and return into the bathroom to wash himself, he just stood up in front of you. You were about to say something, but before you could, Mingi suddenly got closer and kissed the corner of you lips.

"We both know what we want, right princess?" you moved your sight down your shoes, too embarrassed to even look at him. In fact, what you really wanted was him to pin you against the wall and fuck you already, was it what he wanted, too?

"Wanna see a performance?" he grabbed your waist, and leaned for a kiss, sucking the sensitive skin of your neck. You positioned your palms on his chest, hesitant to push him away: you knew that he shouldn't do that, but something in you obviously wanted him to keep going:

"Song Mingi- we can't-"

"Fuck it, i can't wait to feel you."

"F-feel me?"

"Enter the practice room, now."

"B-but-"

"You really shouldn't disobey me, baby."

You nodded, heading inside the dance studio. You sat down on the small couch in the corner of the room, your heart was beating so loudly and quickly that you thought he could hear it. You looked at Mingi, who was closing the door behind him. Once he was standing in front of you, he caressed your chin with his thumb, smirking. "Just like that, look at me" His voice seemed getting deeper deeper everytime he spoke to you, which it drove you crazy, you didn't even realized what was going on, that Mingi hooked up his t-shirt, flexing his abs, leaning for more kisses, his hands were dragging down on your sides, on your thights, and again at your neck, while his lips were trying to taste every inch of your skin. Small, low whines were escaping from his mouth sometimes, making it difficult to resist your neediness, you just wanted him to undress you and ruin your throbbing pussy, right there. You murmured: "Please- i need it, please do it Mingi..." he stared at you, then he dragged down his sight, till your tight skirt. "Tell me princess, what do you want?" You groaned, frustrated and embarrassed, but mostly because you were horny: "Come on Mingi, just fuck me if that's what you want, i can't take no more if you don't touch me already down there." he chuckled, and immediately dragged his hands on the zipper of you skirt. "I see... you're so impatient baby..." after that, without saying anything, he took your skirt off, leaving on only your panties. He moved his eyes on your face: "Can i strip you completely?" you nodded impatiently, biting your lower lip to help you calm down. In less than a minute, the both of you were naked. You were staring at his dick so desperately, he wasn't moving, too fucked out from the sight of your bare body, needless to say that he was definitely hard. Seeing him immobilized, you suddenly turned yourself on your hands and knees, and rubbed your ass against his waist.

"So? What are you waiting for? Get yourself in." you giggled, as you saw him waking up from his moment of trance. "No condoms?" he asked you. "No, i want you to fill me up- ah! f-fuck" you didn't even finished talking that he shoved his cock inside your folds, letting out a desperate moan, for your warmth and wetness. He waited a few seconds to get used from that feeling, and started to pound slowly, but deeply. The pleasure was now taking the control of the both of you, you couldn't help but be surprised about how is dick fitted you perfectly, every thrust reached your g-spot just in the right way. "P-please Mingi... faster" he gronaed a couple times, and sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin was echoing inside the dance room, the squelching of your wetness was perfectly audible, which it made you even hornier. Moans were continuously escaping from your mouth, especially when Mingi, seeing your ass slapping against his balls, wanted to spank it, leaving red bruises on its cheeks. The more he pounded you, the more you were reaching your orgasm, you could feel that he was also getting near to his climax by his sloppy and tired thrusts, you swear you could just cum from hearing his fucked out moans and whines, when the feeling of your walls clenching around his length tensified. "Fuck princess- im so close" his hands gripped your ass, pressing it against his waist, as he pounded as fast as he could, to finally reach his orgasm. The suddenly feeling of his rough thrust, instantly made you come. You both were a mess, sweat falling down your forehead, your skin red from the spanking, ropes of cum escaping from his cock, when he pulled out and stroked it slightly with his hand, painting your ass. You both layed on the couch, to gather yourself from your high. After you took your breath again, Mingi caressed your thight:

"Give me your number, babe."

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

PLUS if someone wants to, here's the link for a Mingi smut audio from @myloveforyunho that got me rolling on the floor fr 😩

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joshusten · 5 months

Text

honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer.

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement.

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them.

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm.

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it.

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better.

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?”

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?”

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–”

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest.

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story.

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep.

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!”

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do.

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead.

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch.

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck.

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core.

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!”

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus! “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one."

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy."

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #suggestive #mdni #sten writes!#wow how long since i last used that tag

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five-rivers · 7 days

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 13

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Okay,” said Danny rubbing his hands together. “I’m going to do the big group next.”

“Group number four?”

“Yeah, them. Why’re there three of them, anyway?”

“You’ll have to ask them that,” said Clockwork. “Au jus?”

“Yes, please,” said Danny, reaching for the small bowl of sauce. “Your sandwiches are always really good.”

“Thank you,” said Clockwork. “Will you be leaving after lunch, then?”

“Yeah, I think that’ll be best.” Danny sighed. “No offense, but I’m kind of going a little bit stir-crazy, being inside all the time. I didn’t really realize until Pandora said something, but she was right.”

“That’s quite reasonable,” said Clockwork. “The trial has lasted for nearly a month and a half.”

“Really? I think I’ve only been with each person for about a week, and there’ve only been four people. Five, if you count the Observants.”

“Yes, but you’ve spent a good amount of time here as well. Those in-between days add up.”

“Huh. I guess so.” Danny took a bite of his sandwich. “I guess it sort of snuck up on me. A month and a half… So two weeks here.”

“Yes, but please chew with your mouth closed.”

“Oops,” said Danny, covering his mouth. “Sorry.”

Clockwork nodded and patted Danny absently on the head before making a small sandwich for himself. They ate together quietly.

“Three of them, though,” said Danny. “Are they all together, or something?”

“You will–”

“Have to meet them and find out. I know, I know. Should I brush my teeth first?”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Danny. “That’s probably too much effort. But I should put in some effort, shouldn’t I?” He nodded. “Yeah. Toothbrushing. Toothbrush. One minute.”

Danny had been in a lot of places over the last month and a half. A cute little house, two mansions possessed by people with questionable understandings of humanity, a warren of ice caves, an ancient Greek palace, and, of course, Clockwork’s purple place. He’d imagined a lot of others. Like open skies, broad fields, mountains, islands… horrible mad science labs…

However, he hadn’t imagined a place like this.

“Um,” he said, looking around the… stage? Rats' nests of cables were strewn about in every direction, and next to the curtains hunting trophies were hung. Heads, horns, antlers… hair? A tail? Whatever, this was weird, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. “Hi?” He stepped forward over a tangle of cables. “Hello? Anyone–”

“BEHOLD! I, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL TECHNOLOGY–”

Danny leaped backwards, to hover over the seating area, startled by the ghost rising out of the cables. The stage lights came on, spotlights centering on the ghost. He had long white hair, green skin, sunglasses built into his face, and a tattered lab coat.

Music blasted out of speakers, rock and roll, screaming guitars, thundering drums and cymbals. A young, gray-skinned woman with fiery blue hair rose up from under the stage. She held a guitar painted with blue and pink flames.

“HEYA, BABYPOP!” she shouted into a microphone that appeared in a burst of fire. “WELCOME HOME TO MAMA EMBER, YEAH!”

“Hey!” whined the first ghost. “You said I could do the introductions!”

“I never said that. You said that. I was always going to do the intros. You think I’m going to leave it to you, when you just drone on and on and on and on and–”

“As if you’re any better!”

“I come with a sound track, audio jack,” said Ember.

“My god, you two are so loud, and you didn’t even bother to introduce me,” said a deep, slightly hollow voice. Danny startled again, twisting to see a ghost completely covered with silvery armor.

“I thought you didn’t care about introductions,” said Ember. She played a quick few chords on her guitars, then continued to use her music to punctuate her words. “Because big, bad, baddie, bad, hunky, hottie, hunter Skulker doesn’t need an introduction.” She leaned forward over the guitar. “His name speaks for him!” She started laughing so hard she floated up off the stage. Music continued to blare from the speakers.

“I, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL TECHNOLOGY, CAN TAKE YOUR SO-CALLED MUSIC OFF THE AIR!”

“We’re not even on the air!”

“I can’t believe I’m associated with these two idiots,” said Skulker.

“I’d like to know how you’re associated with me,” said Danny, trying to smooth down his fur.

“Isn’t it obvious, babypop?” asked Ember. “We’re you’re parents! Yeah!”

“Uh,” said Danny, looking at the very strange trio. “I don’t know about the other two, but aren’t you a little… young for that?” She couldn’t be all that much older than Jazz.

“I’m dead, kiddo. Son. Boy. Little man. I was a teen mom and all that. Totally radical rockstar living.”

“With, um,” said Danny. His eyes slid back and forth between Ember and Skulker.

“Skulker, duh,” said Ember. “Techy here is Skulker’s boyfriend or whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I am his trusted–”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“We’re all dating, except when we’re broken up,” said Skulker, bored.

“Okay,” said Danny. “So… you’re both…” He shrugged at them.

“What does this–” Technus also shrugged, “--mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “You tell me.”

“Hm, the amnesia did not do favors for his intelligence! I liked him much better before! Do you want to see the lab?”

“The lab?” repeated Danny, backing away from Technus a little more.

“It really didn’t help your intelligence. Sad! Perhaps some electroshock therapy might help?”

“Hey!” said Ember, kicking Technus’s tail. “What did we say about electrocuting the flesh baby? What did that narc say? The tall purple one?”

“I know you know that Clockwork isn’t a narc,” said Skulker.

The three of them started to bicker. Danny watched in mixed fascination and horror.

White hair on Technus. Green eyes on Skulker and Ember. Human-like appearances. A mad science lab. Jazz’s belief that Danny would buy the absurdly youthful mother story. Frostbite’s conviction that his parents were abusive. Heck, Danny could even see them meeting Vlad in college, if he fudged the ages a little. He didn’t have any idea how old Vlad was, after all.

Were these his actual parents? Like, his actual, biological parents?

“Anyway, babypop,” said Ember, throwing a hand around Danny’s shoulder, “we heard about your predicament through the grapevine–”

“Through the grapevine? Weren’t you just saying you were my mother?”

“Yeah, but I was on tour, Skulker was hunting, and Technus was… Being Technus. We were, like, estranged. Separated. Because of the whole alive thing. Fell out of touch.” She waved a lazy hand. “Anyway, we heard about the Observants putting you through hell, and we were like, that’s not cool. So, we put our names in the hat, all that stuff, babypop, ‘cause we love you, y’know? And we’re going to have so much fun. I’ll turn you into a proper rocker yet. You’ve got a great set of pipes, kid, and you’ve got to use that.”

“But first!” shouted Technus, at only a slightly lower volume than before. “The GRAND TOUR!”

Danny took back that thought about the volume being lower.

“TO THE LAB!”

Danny cringed away from Technus. This was going to be a pain.

“Okay,” said Danny, floating a few feet over the floor to avoid the wires. “We’ve seen the stage, the sound room, the… conservatory?”

“Never say that I don’t have taste, babypop. You’ve got to have a good piano in a house.”

“Yeah, then workshop, and the server room, and the lab.” Which had, frankly, been horrifying. Just a massive mess of electronics. The sense of electricity in the room made his hair all stand on end. “And the weapon room. Then the… hunting. Place. And. Um. Zoo.” Which was also horrifying, but for different reasons.

“Yes,” said Skulker, “our space may be limited, but you will soon know the joy of the hunt.”

“... right,” said Danny. “But, like, is there a… kitchen?”

“Kitchen?” asked Ember, blankly.

“We don’t,” said Skulker.

“We mostly order out, when the great hunter here can’t catch anything!”

“Can anyone… get in to order out?”

Ember, Skulker, and Technus stared at each other.

“Crap,” said Ember, finally. “Crap.”

“What?” said Technus. “It’s not like we have to eat.”

“I kind of do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. Everyone else has been feeding me.”

“Yeah, no, we’re ghosts, even you,” said Technus. “We don’t need to eat.”

“I can kill off some of the game I’ve already caught,” said Skulker, “if we really need to. I’d like you to hunt for them, though. A little extra incentive!”

“Right. Sure. Whatever. Bedroom?” asked Danny.

“We don’t need to sleep, either,” said Technus.

Fine. Danny wasn’t touching that. “Bathroom?” he tried.

“Gross,” said Ember. “Who’s spending their afterlife peeing?”

“Uh. Me?”

“Ew. You’ve got to quit that.”

Danny didn’t think that was a thing he could actually quit. He made a face. “You’re not actually my parents, are you?”

“Of course we are,” said Skulker, mechanically.

“Okay, well, that right there, that’s a lie,” said Danny. “That’s definitely a lie.”

“It’s not,” said Technus, stridently.

“Look, maybe some fighting would knock him out of his funk,” said Skulker. “Knock him right out.”

“Yeah, some of that misplaced aggression kind of thing he’s always on about,” said Ember.

Danny had no idea what he was talking about. “You guys do know that if I can’t have a place to go to the bathroom, I’m going to leave, right?”

“Maybe even a good hunt,” said Skulker. “For old times’ sake. Give him a good chase, get rid of some of that anxiety.”

Danny really hoped he wasn’t related to these three. He grabbed the pocketwatch.

“Wait, ghost child!”

“Okay, yeah, that’s not something you call your kids,” said Danny, pointing at Technus.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you caught us,” said Technus. “Real sharp of you, ghost child! Real sharp and groovy.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know what any of those words mean,” said Ember. “Stop using them.”

“BUT!” shrieked Technus. “What you don’t know is that we’re your RIVALS!”

Danny grimaced. “What?”

“We fought you, like, a bunch of times,” said Ember.

“And… now you want to adopt me?”

“Better us than some of the nutjobs that want you. We’d just let you do your own thing, hang out, fight a bit when you get touchy about your stupid city, or too wound up about school, all that stuff.”

“But we’d NEVER make you go to SCHOOL!” said Technus. “I could teach you in the lab!”

“Wow, that’s, uh. Touching,” said Danny. “But the bathroom thing is, in this case, a dealbreaker.”

“Aw, come on,” said Ember. “At least have a good fight with us, first. Skulker’s been practically moping since you’ve been out of commission.”

“My latest hunts have been… flavorless,” said Skulker. Danny sighed. “Fine. But I’m going right after.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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ethanmorales · 11 months

Text

Misconceptions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4 - Air

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 4.1k words Requested Tags: @arij3lly@hitoshislut@bjrmaybank@ghostfaceorgirlfriend @in-silverlake @misacc08 Warnings: swearing, smut

It's the beginning of a brand-new school year at Sherman Oaks high. The last year for some of us; me included. But the start of my senior year, ironically, is not the reason my legs are wobbly. Nope, that was all because of Ethan, who had knocked on my window for a late-night visit about 6 hours ago. There were a few things he wanted to try so… let’s just say, it was a good thing my mom had the night shift at the hospital.

It’s only been a week since our first time. Only a week since he admitted having feelings for me. Unfortunately, we didn’t discuss the matter further. My mom had gotten home after his confession, and he practically had to take his clothes and run out the back door before we got caught. We’ve met almost every day since, but we haven’t talked about us. We kiss a lot and of course we have sex, sometimes we even cuddle, and we talk about our days, but we never talk about what we are to each other and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.

I loved every second of the time we’ve spent together. But now that school has started again, I’m afraid. Afraid that things will go back to how they used to be. Afraid that a new girl will catch his attention. I know it makes no sense, after he confessed to having feelings for me, but the heart is a treacherous thing. You can never trust it. I most certainly don’t trust mine. It always makes me feel crazy most times. Or maybe it’s my mind that’s the problem.

It doesn’t help that it’s almost time for first period and I’ve not heard from Ethan yet. He usually texts me as soon as he wakes up. Today? Nada. I even texted him first, but he left me on read. So, I’m spiraling, just a little bit. I think I’m entitled to in this situation.

I glance around the hallway one more time as the bell rings. I don’t see him anywhere. At that moment, Devi links her arm around mine. “That was the bell ringing just now,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.

I ignored the sarcasm but let her steer me away to our first class.

“I was expecting some witty remark,” she said, when I didn’t reply.

I force myself to smile, “Sorry, head in the clouds today.”

“It’s okay, girl. The first day of school sucks. My sleeping schedule is so messed up from a summer full of all-nighters.”

I quirk an eyebrow at this, “Do these all-nighters have a name?”

Devi shakes her head furiously, “Nope. No name at all.” I pretended to believe her as our teacher walked in the door, closing it behind him. I look back to Ethan’s desk but it’s empty. I hide my phone under the desk and shoot him a quick text.

Skipping on the first day? That’s bad, even for you.

Devi smacks the top of my desk, eyes wide. I glance to the front of the classroom and see the teacher is staring right at me. “Sorry, Mr. Shapiro.”

He sighs, “You guys are lucky I am the coolest teacher ever,” he continues before anyone can respond. “Raise of hands if you completed your summer reading,” pauses, “Yes, the audio book counts. No, the movie does not.”

The rest of the class was a blur. A glance at my phone confirmed that Ethan hadn’t responded. The anxiety in my chest continued to grow as time continued to pass. At lunchtime I still hadn’t heard from him. At this point, I was angry.

Fuming, I stomped all the way to my locker, putting away my books and backpack for the hour. As I’m closing the door, Dominic Stryker leans against the locker next to mine. Dominic was an exchange student that started late last semester. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming to him, but that might have something to do with the fact that he’s hot. Mind you, I only have eyes for Ethan but if I didn’t, the windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes would do it for me.

But Ethan was very much the only person that I wanted, so Dominic’s presence only served to irritate me more.

“Yes?” I asked when he just stared at me, sweeping his hair back with his hand.

Unfazed by my tone, he smiles warmly at me, “Say, have you seen Ethan anywhere? He hasn’t been in any of our classes.”

I frown at this, “Of all the people you could ask, why would I know where he is?”

Dominic shrugs, “I just got a vibe last time, like you were into him or something.”

I huffed. “I am definitely not into him.” I say it louder than I intend to, and some people slow down to look at us. He waves at them, and they quickly carry on with their business.

“My bad,” he says, looking back at me, smiling wider, “Just a misunderstanding.”

I sigh, once I realize that I’m being snappy and rude. “I’m sorry. It’s not been a great morning, I’m a little on edge. There’s no excuse for taking it out on you.”

Dominic slides over the lockers a bit, cutting some of the distance between us; then lowers his voice.

“I forgive you,” he says, “but I might have to seek compensation for the emotional damage.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile does tug at my lips. “Whatever. I’ll buy you a soda. Is that compensation enough?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How about a meal? After school?”

I suddenly realized that he was asking about Ethan to make sure he could make his move. And I basically gave him the opening. Horrified, I struggle to respond.

“I- uh

“She’s busy after school.” The voice was very close behind me. I turned around so quickly that I bumped into his chest.

“Ethan.” Even at my addressing him, he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on Dominic. For the moment, I ceased to exist.

“I think Y/N can decide if she’s busy or not,” Dominic says, standing up straighter to look down at Ethan. But Ethan seems unfazed.

“I think you need to keep walking before I lose my patience.” Ethan’s words were calm, but I knew him well enough to know this was the calm before the storm. I’ve seen him fight before; Dominic did not stand a chance if it turned into that.

“Guys, please. Just stop. If you get detention this week, they won’t let you come to homecoming.” I was trying to be the voice of reason, but my reasoning was lacking in many ways. My audience could care less about homecoming, for one.

“I’m still waiting for a response, “Dominic says, ignoring my previous statement. “Food after school? I know a cool spot.”

Ethan pulls me to the side so that he can face Dominic without me being in the middle.

“I already told you that she’s busy.” Ethan’s voice was not as calm as before. His hands were balled into fists. I knew I had to stop this now or it would turn into a fight.

“I got a lot going on right now, sorry Dominic.” My words come out quick.

Ethan smiled at this, motioning towards me. “You heard her. Now go find someone else to hit on.”

Dominic’s expression was deadly as he stared back at Ethan, but then his gaze turned to me.

“I thought you were definitely not into him,” he said it in a mocking tone, air quotations in the air. I didn’t know what to say that could make this better, so I just looked at him with what I hoped looked like a silent apology. He just shook his head in disbelief as he pushed past us, finally leaving us alone.

Even with his departure, Ethan stays in place, still not looking at me.

“Ethan?” I finally say.

I jump in surprise as he slams his fist on the locker door and I see the metal bend.

“Oh my God,” I grab his arm and pull him away before anyone sees what he did. I haul him through the hallway and take a left, this part of school is empty during lunch time. I find the nearest door and push him through it. I lock the door behind us and turn around. It’s the faculty bathroom, I realize.

“Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into for damaging school property? You don’t need a vandalism strike on your records.”

He finally turns to face me, but the expression on his face is even angrier than before.

“What the fuck do I care about that?” he replies. Before I can start listing the reasons why he should care, he continues, “What the fuck was that shit about?” He points to the door, but I know he is talking about Dominic. I stay quiet for a moment, not sure how to proceed. I had never seen him this angry. Ever. But at the same time, screw him. I was angry at him myself.

“I should be the one asking you, what the fuck was that? I’ve been looking for you all morning and texting you and nothing. You ghost me and then have the audacity to throw a jealous scene over some guy asking me out?!” The volume of my voice rose with each word.

I half expected Ethan to throw more angry words at me, or to yell back at me, but it was the opposite. His voice low, he responds. “I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.”

I stare, waiting for the punchline but he doesn’t say anything else.

“You dropped your phone in the toilet,” I repeat, not sure if I believed it.

Ethan let out an annoyed breath, “I was going to respond to your text, and I dropped it. If you texted after the first one that I read, I haven’t seen them. I left my phone in a bowl of rice.”

I scoff, “Your phone is waterproof.”

Ethan gives me a pointed look, “Not if you leave it in water for a long time, apparently.”

“Why would you leave it in there at all?”

Silence.

“Ethan, I am trying to give you the chance to explain.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

I take a step closer to hear him better. “What was that?”

Ethan shakes his head. “My parents were fighting again.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say.

Ethan laughs, but the sound is bitter.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you then. But you letting this dick hit on you while I’m dealing with that shit. Fuck that.”

I suddenly felt terrible, even though I didn’t know what was happening until he explained. We kept ending up in this situation, always with a misunderstanding. But I knew the only reason this kept happening is because our communication was shit. Because I didn’t know where we stood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was hitting on me until it was too late.” I finally say.

Ethan scoffs – not amused.

“What are we?” I finally ask, exasperated. As soon as the words spill out of my mouth, I regret them. This was the last thing Ethan would want to talk about with everything going on.

Ethan just stares at me. Looking beautiful and tortured.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” my voice trembles and I hate it.

Ethan steps closer. “Are you serious?”

I meet his gaze, but I can’t decipher the emotion in his eye.

“I said forget about it!” I start turning to leave, embarrassed at my outburst. Ethan just pulls me into him and kisses me. I’m too stunned to respond to his kiss, which seems to upset Ethan more as he pushes me into the bathroom sink, kissing me more aggressively. I give in and kiss him back. His tongue quickly starts a tug of war with mine as he deepens the kiss. After a moment of this, I can’t remember what we were arguing about in the first place. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves with mine, effortlessly. His hands on my waist, then lower, cupping my butt. I pull away for a moment, “It’s the teacher’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I don’t give a fuck,” is all he says, as he kisses me once more, then stops, “You asked me a question. I’m making my point.” I try to remember what the question was but then we’re back at it and I forget to remember.

Ethan plops me on top of the sink as we continue kissing. I feel one of his hands on my thigh and then moving slowly up under my skirt.

“Fuck.” He groans against my lips. I smile, knowing that he has realized I’m not wearing underwear.

“This better have been for me and not for that asshole,” he says as his fingers caress my opening.

I look at him, annoyed. Smack him in the chest. “Do you really think I care about Dominic?”

Ethan holds my gaze steadily and my heart flutters. Stupid body. Why do you have to react in the most annoying ways at the worst possible times. Who cares about his beautiful caramel skin and beautiful brown eyes. He is a jerk.

“I hope not.” He finally says.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t care about him. I hope you only care about me.”

My heart speeds up. “I don’t care about him or any other guy.” I start to tell him that he was the only one I care about, but I don’t get a chance to tell him. In that moment, he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp in surprise. Ethan holds my gaze as he slips a second finger in. I let out a shaky breath as he starts moving in and out.

“I’m the only guy who’s allowed to do this, do you understand?” His tone was a mixture of anger and lust. I was holding on to his arms for dear life as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, then he presses on my clitoris with both fingers, which makes me moan involuntarily. I claw my nails into his arms to keep myself together.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. Fighting the ache building up inside me and breathing heavier by the second, I nod.

His fingers stop moving suddenly, leaving with their absence, a vengeful kind of coldness and I whine in protest. “Ethannn”

“Say it.” He demands. I frown at him, annoyed.

“Fine. You’re the only one who is allowed to do this.”

He smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

I think of an insult to throw at him but never get to say it. At my saying what he wants to hear, Ethan’s hands spread my legs apart and he kneels, his head disappearing under my skirt. Still, I’m not prepared for the attack from his tongue.

Ethan’s POV

I’m not proud at how I reacted about that dick hitting on her, but when I walked over and heard him flirting with her and then asking her out… It felt like I was set on fire by some supernatural being. It took all of me not to pummel him right there. The nerve on this fucker; to ask my girl out. But what really fucked me up is that she didn’t immediately reject him. That felt like a stab to the heart. I wanted to burn the whole damn world down.

Once in the bathroom, as we threw angry words at each other I realized what the problem was. We both care too fucking much, but we also hold back even more.

Most of the anger in me dissipates at her words when she finally says what I want to hear, even if she only says them because I told her to. I don’t know how to say the things I want to say, so I decided to show her to the best of my abilities. I drop to my knees and in between her legs and under the shield of her skirt, I kiss her in her wetness. I hear her breathing pick up as I suck at her clit; her hand grabbing at my hair. I groan, turned on even more at the simple gesture. I loved it when she did that.

I pull away and she practically whimpers. “Don’t stop.”

I stand up and look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving fast with shallow breaths. I feel more blood rushing to my dick. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“Hang on, baby.” I fumble with the button in my jeans. Once I pull them with my boxers, I let her look at me for a moment, the desire in her eyes just driving me to the edge. I pull her to me for a second, kiss her lips softly and smile.

“Now turn around,” I order.

She looks confused for a second, but she does as she is told. Her doing everything I ask her makes me so fucking horny, she has no idea how much power she has over me. Fueled by an animalistic kind of desire, I guide her to a bending position and hold her hips with both my hands. Without a word, I push myself into her. I see her grab onto the sink to support herself as I drive myself deeper inside her. I give her a moment to get used to the feeling since it’s the first time we have done this.

I can see her flushed face through the mirror and when she makes eye contact with me, I catch the silent plea. At this, I lose whatever is left of my sanity. I plunge myself inside of her. She moans and I follow, as I slip in and out. As I watch our reflections in the mirror, I see when she starts to close her eyes as the pleasure continues to build. I hate the idea of her not looking at me when I’m inside her. I pulled out and turn her around to face me.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I lift her onto the sink again and hold her gaze as I shove my throbbing dick inside her again. At this angle, her head falls back when she screams. I grab her face to make her look at me.

“God, Ethan.” Her reaction eggs me on. I move faster, knowing I have a limited time to make her cum. I was barely hanging on as it is. Our breaths were labored as I continued to fuck her. You could hear her wetness as I moved, but her pussy continued to tighten around me so I knew she was close. I slid out a bit and positioned myself slightly to the left before I pushed myself in again. She screamed, loudly this time. I smiled at finding the right spot and moved faster. This time, as if we were in sync, we came together. Once we rode the wave, breathing heavily, I gently helped her off the sink. After pulling my pants up, I loop my arms around her and rest my sweaty forehead against hers. We both closed our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

“What I was trying to say is… you’re mine.” I finally found the words.

I open my eyes to find her watching me. Her face gets redder. I’m confused for a moment and then realize why she’s upset.

“And I’m yours. I thought that part was obvious.” I say.

Y/N narrows her eyes at me, and I laugh.

“How is that obvious?” she asks.

“I told you how I felt last week. If anything, I’m the only one that should be angry. You never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought that part was obvious.” She throws the words back at me, her tone playful.

I smile and kiss her deeply.

“So how do you feel about me?” I ask after we stop.

I didn’t want to admit that it had bothered me so much. We’ve spent the last week glued to each other and not once had she brought it up, so I decided to not bring it up and make an even bigger fool out of myself. But the more days passed, the more insecure I became. That’s probably why I lost my mind earlier.

Y/N smiles softly and cups my face with her hands.

“I’ve been crazy about you for I don’t know how long,” she says. I smiled at her words, the heavy feeling in my chest finally easing.

“Me? But I suck,” I say jokingly.

“Yet I’m still in love with you.” She pushes at me gently, embarrassed. I grin like an idiot at her declaration.

I grab her face and kiss her again. Once, twice, three times.

“Ethan,” she giggles. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her there too, holding her tightly against me.

“I love you too.” I say.

When she looks at me, I see stars in eyes.

A knock on the door makes us both jump.

“Shit.”

Y/N POV

“Oh God, we’re going to get expelled.”

Ethan chuckles at this and I smack his arm.

“Just deny everything. They didn’t see anything so it’s their word against ours.”

I shake my head, “But the door was locked.”

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up, “You trust me?”

I nod and he smiles.

“Then follow my lead.”

I do. I walk slowly behind him, fighting the soreness in my body and holding on to Ethan’s arm when I notice how shaky my legs are. Ethan looks beside me and realizes. He gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile.

We moved to the door, which was still being knocked on. He turns the lock and opens it.

We’re both surprised to see Paxton standing there, swimming coach uniform on. I don’t think Ethan was prepared to see him of all people. He stays quiet.

Paxton looks at him and then me, almost trying to hide a smile.

“You guys should go. Now. Be thankful it was me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and so did Ethan. We started moving around him and out into the hallway, but Paxton put a hand up to stop me as I was about to walk past him.

“You might want to try being a bit more… discreet next time.” I look at him, confused and he elaborates, stepping closer to not be heard. “You were loud. Like very loud.” I blush furiously at his words and speed away from him. I heard him chucking behind me.

The end of lunch arrives at the sound of the bell and suddenly the empty hallways fill up again, everyone going into classrooms and their lockers to pick up their stuff at the last minute. As we’re moving through the people around us, Ethan’s hand slips into mine and he interlocks our fingers. I quickly looked at him in a question. But he just smiles. We walk to my next classroom, and he walks in with me, hand in hand, even though we don’t share this class. We get to my desk, which coincidentally, is next to Dominic’s. I understand now.

“Thanks for walking me.” I say, shyly. I hear my classmates whistling and adding commentary in the background. I sit down but notice Ethan hasn’t moved from his spot. I look at him in a question. He then bends down and kisses me long. I vaguely hear angry muttering beside me, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss.

“Good afternoon Mr. Morales. I wasn’t aware I had you in this class.” My math teacher had arrived.

Ethan winked at me as he moved away to leave. “I’m out,” he tells my teacher, hands up in surrender, turns around and points at me, “I just wanted to take care of my lady.”

The whole class reacts loudly.

I sink lower into my desk. Still, I smile. He was announcing to the world that we’re together, claiming me in front of everyone. I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was in that moment.

The End.

___________________

A/N: Thank you all for reading! You are bomb! Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for other fanfics and/or one shots about Ethan. ☺️

Stay awesome, much love xx

#ethan morales #ethan morales fanfic #ethan morales x reader #never have i ever #never have i ever season 4 #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #michael cimino #nhie #nhie s4

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