#And he's been there 3 years and has no publications. Same with the other guy in our conversation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlmtsdoll · 8 months ago

Text

Guys I loved writing the first short n sweet inspo fic so here’s more bc that ovulation album is too good <3

WHERE ART THOU ? WHY NOT UPONETH ME ?

౨ৎ Summary: your hosting a slumber party at Art’s mansion. But you can’t quite stay away from your pull to get the man in a room where there are no others. Inspo from Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter 🤍

+ 18 | very much smut !, unprotected sex, age gap, (reader early 20’s) dilf!Art, size kink, first daddy kink fic (omg) semi-public sex, oral (f) reviving, pet names, this made me feel a bit slutty just writing it, needy!reader, fatherly Art ;)

A/N: the fucking edits on tiktok of Mike to Bed Chem are making me go insane ! just when I thought there was no possible way for me to be crazier over this man omfg. So I had to give the girls a fic to go w it ofc <3

It was like fate. The day you met him.

Nothing could of been more perfect when the stars aligned to bring you to accompany your solid group of trust fund friends to one of his tournaments that evening. You were like most girls your age, makeup, pop music, nice ornaments for your wardrobe — you weren’t the kind of girl that could say she knew much about sports, and certainly little to nothing to be caught landing a seat at the us open... but eventually that grew to be a substantial part of what found him to be so drawn to you.

It was that day when you’d been in the bleachers watching the blonde play like it was his life’s greatest prophecy. For the first time in your still too little years of living, you’d never felt that aroused by a man you’d only saw from the mere view of him hitting a ball with a racket.

But he was unearthly.

Built like how men used to be. Face like it came straight from heaven. Serve like he knew a thing or two in bed.

You were drunk on want, need for him. You were damn lucky your friends were loaded enough to go to all the after parties with most of the star athletes. It was insane to you that you would follow the vip and your most sports driven friends (enthusiast if you will.) to where the elites spend their time. You wanted a nice hang out. Good food. Expensive drinks. But it was between you and the universe that you’d leave with so much more.

You were in a sheer dress and kitten heels when he spotted you. Just his star studded sly smile from across the event hall, when he saw you and your friends conversing in mostly a pretentious manner like most kids your age did when they could afford the lifestyle most people only dreamed of. But not you, you were entranced, pulled away. By his wide, blue eyes that you assumed filled with the same yearn you’d been struck with. And to your quick manifest, Art was gazing right back at you.

Only sharing a couple brief exchanges with the tall and stature, modest but kindly — beautiful and magnetic man around mutual friends, before you’d both been rushed to leave. Him with his team, and you with your entourage.

Like that you were tied to the tennis star in the blink of a moment. And Soon enough — being photographed with him around the heat of the city.

Games, athlete dinner parties, press events. Even photos of you two sharing more than a couple of words, maybe even kisses, behind menus at glamorous rooftop restaurants. Magazine outlets went crazy through the roof in just a few weeks time. Milking whatever they could out of Art Donaldson and his controversially younger girlfriend.

They didn’t have enough tabs on what you two had officially been to one another and that was perfect for the two of you. Because now that time has pushed you and the blonde closer and more into each other — you’d spend days and nights locked away with Art in his new found mansion post his former divorce. Home so beautifully articulated and big enough for you to be extra generous with your time with the dream boat of a man.

It would go down in history what the two of you had done in every room.

Now, a gorgeous weekend ahead of you after your week that was always filled with Art treating you to the finest cooked dinners, at home date nights filled with breezy smiles and full closeness to balance your dates out on the town. Going wherever you felt just to hold hands under umbrellas and traffic lights. With all the new adorned love in your life, and man with too much mystic taking up your time, it had been a good minute since you saw your girlfriends, caught up or shared a drink. You were just so wound up in Art and the way he treated you like a princess to, and in your own world.

So you’d asked Art if you could host a sweet little sleepover for you and your girls at the mansion — and of course he complied. It was anything for his perfect girl since the beginning.

“I could ask the chef to whip up some,” Art spoke into you as he held your hips in his vast hands running carefully over the hem of your satin bottoms as you stood in the middle of the spacious kitchen with him.

“That’s okay, I wanna do it.” You laughed softly, as you stared up at the man. “Nothing says fun girls night like making our own home made friandises”

Art had tilted his head in slight confusion with eyes in question to your tone when you’d practice what you’d been learning in your French courses on him. It was all the most adorable to you really. Your laugh echoed.

“Treats, baby.”

“I- - I knew that,” He scoffed and your giggles were infectious with delight to him.

“It’s gonna be fun. We’ll watch movies, paint our nails, share snacking tips. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the girls.”

Art grinned at the way you lit up with excitement, and his icy eyes looked down at your figure below him. He tried not to bite down on his lip at the way you were in the pajamas usually he only saw you in. Pink lace two piece jammies. Completely recognized because he got them for you. The transparency to them was way too easy on the eyes.

Arts tongue darted out to wet his lips before he questioned, “Is that what you’re wearing ? There aren’t gonna be any boys.. right ?”

“No, silly. That of course counts out you — if.. you wanna join us.” You looked up at him through your lightly mascara coated lashes, it felt as if the flirtatiousness through your gaze just hooked Art by the belt.

“No, no. I’ll give you and your friends your space, doll.” The blonde gave you a chary little smile, “I really doubt they’d want an old man around while you’re trying to have fun.”

“Quit it ! You’re not old. And they adore you.” You stood on the tips of your toes, Art met you so you could leave a sweet kiss on his cheek, with a blush to your own.

“Thank’s for letting me have this little party, baby.”

“Course, what else would be better use for all this space ? Other than for the amusement of twenty something girls.”

Art chuckled and you surely were in agreement, because when your girlfriends did arrive it was immediately shrieks of girlish camaraderie and chatter of awe as you brought them around the place of posh and eloquent nature. Your laugh could of been heard from the other side of the place where Art had eventually been stored away for the night while your hands were knee deep in cookie dough and rainbow sprinkles. Pj sets all from the brands you and your friends never stopped talking about. Having your night filled with reruns of classic movies to sipping champagne.. and the wine, red, (your pick) was certainly slipping through you as the moments went on.

You’d been with your best friend when you two had a moment alone to catch up in one of the halls of the buoyant abode. Whispers and giggles coming from between the two of you as a glass of wine hung from your palm.

“God, he was a such a cutie.” She coo’d as you two had found a very special wall of framed photos of Art from back in his prime tennis days. The blonde around your age who seemed filled with joyfully energetic faces and awards from across the globe. A smile woke upon your face as you folded your arm to admire the man you’d now call your own.

“Sometimes I wish I’d known him then,” you simpered. “But I’m beyond lucky now. Because he’s still cute, and sexier.”

You tittered fondly and your friend laughed with you as she playfully tugged on your shoulder. “You gotta lock that down, y’know… you’ll be like- - hella famous just from being a world class tennis superstars hot young wife.”

She announced as she sipped on something burgundy and you thought with a heightened grin. She couldn’t have been farther from right. And as the months go by you would fall farther and farther head over heels for Art every day. You’d be his wife in an instant. That was the dream after all, and you could certainly say you’d been living one.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to put a ring on it..” You smiled with a dazed shrug as you embarked your wine glass to your lips again.

“He better.” Your friend chirped with a proud glint and you couldn’t help but stay stuck in your thought of your boyfriend who’s been just a few rooms away for the past couple of hours while you’d been enjoying all the perks of your girls making the most of their time with you. But you couldn’t help but want Art to be nearby now, and the red wine in your system maybe hit more than just your head — you couldn’t even try to fight it.

You missed your man.

So after you’d take in a few more drinks and a bit sensually themed games with your friends, you’d made your attempt escape off to find Art. Slipping away from the girls was easy when you’d have every necessity needed to execute a very graceful grown up girl sleepover provided for them.

You’d been walking down the hall heading to where his office and master bedroom would be at the end of the home, and as you passed by the lush kitchen area, to your surprise, there he was. Muscles looked enchantingly delicious in this light as they flexed to pull on the fridge handle and when he turned, his eye line met your glance staring back his way (of course you’d both arrive at the same time.) Arts lips began to curl in an amours grin when he saw your petite figure making it’s way over to him with the same like of smile across your face.

“Hi, baby. You having fun?” He glanced down at you through his blonde lashes to meet your nod, only following up with a soft titter as you stepped closer to the man. He almost immediately picked up on the lust laced within your eye and the way you slightly leaned onto the fridge door with your aura basically gooing with sex at him now. The blonde had an eyebrow furrowed as he chuckled just a bit and he sized you up.

“Are you drunk, princess?”

“No. No… no,” you shook your head.

It had been true. You weren’t drunk. But a little wine tipsy and horny ? Definitely.

Art hummed and put the back of his hand to your forehead gently as he observed your state. “Did you eat?”

“Mhm, did you ?”

“No. That’s why I came down, not to stalk you. I promise.” The man laughed, to which you did as well and you only raised your arms so they could embrace your boyfriend’s shoulders with a soft hum.

“Y’know, if you’re hungry, you can eat me.” Your finger tips grace Arts neck unashamed as you smile into the crook, and he took in a breath, proceeding to hold you close.

“Oh- -” his chuckle matched your giggle as he noticed you’d changed again. His hands were gliding up the ruffle of the even more transparent sheer cover on you’d been dressed in. Lime tinted. The shorts were near pantie like.

“Mmm, I miss you, I want you.” You peppered kisses as close as you could to his earlobe from your height and Arts breath hitched as he was weak to your slow but enticing touch to him. Fogging up his knowledge that you’d been right in the middle of the open kitchen that was just a few ways down from the living area your friends had been in.

“Here, sweetness ? Your friends- -” Art murmurs down to your ear, but you just locked your arms just above his shoulders without a care.

“And- - ? What about them ? I need you,” you whined. “I want your touch.”

“Yeah? You want me to touch you?”

You nodded again with a naughty giggle and the blonde was smirking now, his hands roamed your body. Large and groping your curves. As much as he knew what was rightful, Art just couldn’t deny your cling to him in that damn near lingerie that had him going almost unbearably hard beneath his jeans since you walked in. Feral even. It was beginning to get miserable as you pressed your dainty chest against his, he felt your nipples grow hard and sensitive against the cloth. So into his aroma, presence, like you were a moth to a torch.

He’d fallen into your pecks merging with his now. Kissing you against where the cupboards stand like your lips were candy. Your small legs stumbling as the man towered over you “Fuck, you look amazing in that set.” Art pulled away from your plump lips to view your gorgeously perfect body. You batted your lashes once. And his attain just couldn’t be stopped. Art slid his hands across your soft ass cheeks, massaging and kneading it in his palms before leading up to laying a solid smack which made you hiss out an excited squeal-like giggle. Your fingertips slid down his ample biceps brushed with virile bristles of hair.

“If I had known you’d like this set so much, I would of worn it much sooner for you.”

Art leaned into you and he held a sly smirk, “this was your plan all along, yeah? Wearing that to get my attention so I would come out here and fuck you in the middle of your slumber party.. you’re such a naughty girl.”

You only giggled more into his skin with a slow exhale, your freshly painted french tips exploring him as he explored you. Art took his sweet time just feeling the way your ass jiggled in his palms and you felt like you’d been going weak in the knees before his tender contact turned rough when he turned you around without warning, making you gasp.

Art made sure you could feel how hard you’d gotten him as he pressed himself to your core. Facing the counter, you lost yourself in complete bliss just to the feeling of not knowing where he’d pleasure you next — Arts restrained bulge against your clothed cunt was just something else. The blonde pushed up your sheer top just a bit and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, you made a soft noise with it.

“Feel what you do to me, pretty girl.” Art nibbled on your earlobe and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to subtle your smile. His hands bracing your hips as he stared down at your lacy panties and your minx-like eyes followed Arts famished expression while he licked his bottom lip.

“All yours, daddy.” Your sweet voice immediately made Art go nearly lightheaded and that was it. He melted.

The man tucked both his thumbs into the fabric and pulled your panties down clean with raucousness, followed up with him getting down on his knees before spreading you with his palms and your hands reached for the marble with a soft whimper.

“That’a girl, stay open for me.. Let me taste you.” Art huffed out before he pushed one of your legs up on the counter and you breathed out at the feeling of him making your body his toy for amusement. Art took his fingers and ran them up your folds, getting them wet with the slick of your pussy. Your cheeks started to heat up just at the wonderful pad of his index running against your core like that , making you let out a soft, “oh..” by the way he moved to rub around your clit. Arts lips kissed on your exposed inner thighs, and your jaw became unlocked extraordinarily far when his tongue finally rolled on the soft tissue.

He was splitting you clean open on the counter as tiny whimpers escaped your throat. You were lost in the draw you had to the man making you feel surpassing of even the way you played it all out in your head. “Mmm, yeah- - yes” you panted and the man flicked his digit over your bud at the same time he’d been making out with your cunt. Letting deep groans flow throughout your opening. You’d been on the tip of your toes for him. Letting him suck where you pulsed till you’d been overstimulated if he wanted.

Your head had been spinning from the friction of his perfectly sculpted nose rubbing against your sensitive area. Art was known to be gifted with his mouth so much so, you almost wondered if your friends would have heard if you just couldn’t keep your moans level — but with the way Art held your hips, fucked his tongue into your cunt like you’d been his last meal, your anxiousness washed away. All you could do was let the shake of your thighs and Arts dripping oral member lead you to a crisp pleasurable cry.

“Shit,” Art took a brief exhale as he pulled away from your entrance, dampened lips of your juices going wide with a grin and he ran his palms over your slick thighs again,

“you’re so fucking wet for me, princess. You gonna take my dick? Let me make you feel good?”

“Mmm, please. Fill me up, Art. I wanna feel you.”

“You gotta be quite for me, baby.” Art stood to his feet.

You didn’t care. All you could think about was dick. Arts phenomenal dick. You wanted him to toss you over and split you open till you were sobbing on his thick member, your wine drunk friends would understand. A girl has her needs.

The risk made your blood pressure rise as the moment went on, when Art reached over you to tug your panties dangling from your thighs all the way down — he kicked them off to the side. Taking note of his own belt buckle and undoing it quickly, which you only grew more greedy by the sound of him unzipping his fly. The blondes aquamarine orbs swam with the need to pump you fuller than you’d ever taken him.

“Bend over for me, sweet girl..” Art breathed out softly as his slightly calloused hands ran from your hip up your spine while you did so, bending over fully and displaying your sweet dripping cunt for the mans lidded eyes. He sucked in his breath and his now aroused dick twitched when it unveiled from his boxers — going barmy with just how tiny and soft you looked beyond him.

“So fucking tight and small- - your amazing with the way you take me when I barely fit in, sweets.”

You bit down on your finger as you watched Art run his hands over your ass. Take your hips and line his cock up with your hole. He hissed at the way your soaking cunt wet his tip, you almost croaked out a deep moan at his gestures to tease your pussy. Just nodding along as you’d gone cock drunk before he’d even been in you. Your nails run at the marble counter as Art slowly burrowed into your drooling core. Working you open as his cock disappeared into your body inch by inch — he pushed your thigh higher onto the ledge as you whined at the stretch.

“Ah.. mmm- - fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groaned as you adjusted to the size of his warmth finally filling you full. Art was big. And he’d never want to put you, his sweet doll in discomfort for long, never. So when he started to plunge into you, he watched as your face scrunched up from ache to pleasure in time. His name sputtering from your mouth as you clawed at the counter top and he watched your pussy lips that were just throbbing around his erection like it was begging to be so sporadically fucked by him.

“That’s it baby doll,” his own groans heightened as his hips knock into your cervix, chasing that spot of yours till you were moaning and whimpering like a slut around him. Hole so full with yours and his pre-cum and you sucked in your bottom lip, tussled hair going wild on your back. You just had to look over your shoulder to watch him — see Arts gorgeous face as he snapped against you all shimmering with light sweat as he focused on the way a ring of your wetness pooled around his base.

“You love this, hu? Getting me to fuck you while your friends carry on without you- - At your party. But you just had to come.. looking for daddy’s cock, yeah? You love being a dirty, dirty girl for me.” Art rasped as he clenched his jaw with the overwhelming feeling of your tight cunt clenching him. It made your skin feel like it had been sparked with fire, so exhilarated. He put his hands in your hair to fuck into you as your jaw dangled open.

“Oh! F-fuck! I needed that big fucking dick, daddy… w-want you to cum all over me, mmm- -” you were choking out whimpers and your pretty little hole dripped with Arts pre-seed slipping from you, making it drag out when he pulled out of your pussy to turn you around and pick you up in one swift motion. Your high pitched gasp echoed as you wrapped your legs around the mans abdomen and Art set you on the counter. His lips curl up into a smirk and his eyes met your wide doe set ones. Slipping back into you he watched you cry out his name. Rutting into your heavenly body at this angle, hands go squeezing your thighs, and Art kept them apart as he took you at a wild pace. Hitting that gooey spot till you didn’t remember your own name. “Good fucking girl. That’s it- - such a sweet thing for me, taking all of my cock. It was made for you, doll.”

You couldn’t even catch your self as you’d leaned back on the counter and let Art pound into you. Your tits bounced with each thrust and you were shuttering as your orgasm ripped through you without warning. “Yes ! Ooh- - shit, yes yes yes…” you were whining out as you came on Arts dick. He held your legs spread as he grunted and watched you soak him uncontrollably. You loved it. Feeling like his perfect little gift. Art licked over his lips at the sight of your beauty, throwing your head back in bliss, he pulled out of you and pushed up your dainty little baby doll top — making space as he pumped his throbbing dick over your stomach till he himself came hard. Ropes shooting out on your candescent skin and making sure some got on your pussy just for the fun of it, he grinned and trailed his thumb up your gentle inner calf that had been dangling by his side.

You were whimpering like you’d gotten your brains fucked out to the sweetest soundtrack you’d ever heard. Art was so cinematic in moments like these, he leaned up to kiss at the nape of your neck, cheek, and lips.

“Pretty, perfect girl.. I love you.” Your gentleman muttered against your mouth. You smiled and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Art brought your panties up to help you slip them back over your thighs and to your feet as steady as you could. Dressing himself as well, he glanced down at you through his hooded eyes to see your impressively only slightly disheveled state. You were just always glowing, it was hard to make that go away anyways.

“You sleeping down here tonight?” Art buckled his pants again as he questioned you with a soft raised brow. You started to smirk at the way he was heading. You shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not… I’ll sneak into your room when they’re sleep, if you want.” You offered the man, the glint in your eye saying you’d suck his cock and let him have you in as many different positions as he’d like in a couple hours till you were all tapped out. The blonde only scuffed and towered over your presence that was still taken by your hoyden attitude, just to turn you back towards the doorway.

“Go host your party.” he taunted almost fatherly, to then leave a light slap on your ass that made you giggle on the way out.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #dilf!art #challengers #challengers smut #x reader #challngers x reader #challengers fic #petite!reader #size k!nk #fanfiction #sabrina carpenter #short n sweet #bed chem #chlmtsdoll writes

2K notes · View notes

eeksburner · 27 days ago

Text

To be loved is to be seen

Simon Riley x Wife!Reader Fluff/Smut (18+)

(The things you notice and remember about Simon after being together for so long)

My inbox is open for requests, comments, etc! (For the love of everything, please send something to my inbox)

Not proofread

TW: NSFW topics (Sex, P in V)

You have been with Simon for 5 years. You dated for 2 years (courted for even longer before he decided it was safe to love someone openly again) and have been married for 3 (you guys eloped pretty soon after he proposed). After being together for so long, you couldn't help but compile a list of all his quirks, preferences, and other little facts.

While he was very private and quiet with his affection for you in the beginning of your relationship, he has become much more open about it. Simon spent so much time keeping his emotions internal, that he was ready to let his love engulf you in the way he always wanted it to. He isn't a fan of major PDA, but he will keep a hand on you if possible.

He is so lovey-dovey. As mentioned above, he loves knowing he doesn't have to be secretive with his love, so he writes notes, does breakfast in bed, lets you do skincare on him, holds your hand proudly in public, and spoils you to no end.

Simon loves a sweet, milky tea. Don't let him lie to you. He likes 4 sugars and a heavy dose of cream or milk. It reminds him he isn't at work or in a shitty position where he can't enjoy a sweet treat. It's the epitome of indulgence to him. Simon loves a sweet tea from his sweet wife.

Not just with tea, but he has a sweet tooth for everything. He just can't stop himself when you make a fresh batch of sweets or pass by a bakery. He can't stand spicy food, though. If it's well seasoned, that's one thing, but if it's spicier than his favorite salsa/hot sauce, he won't enjoy it nearly as much. Of course, he knows there are worse things, so he will eat without complaint regardless of where you are, but you know when you see his neck starting to flush that it's too hot for him. He just doesn't see the joy in hurting both his tongue and ass for some food.

He is so incredibly polite. Some people like to confuse blunt or straightforward with rude and cold, but that's not right. Simon always says "Please", "Thank you", "Sir", and "Ma'am". He doesn't understand why you would be rude to someone for no reason. Simon also always leaves a nice tip for servers, etc. Dealing with people all day long would kill his social battery, so he leaves them a little extra for their brave choice to deal with the public.

Simon has such a nice physique, but it takes quite a bit to maintain. He doesn't want to miss out on any time with you, so he will go super early in the morning when you're still sleeping at home. He doesn't like working out in front of people if he can help it. He usually lets his guard down when he's focusing on form or straining to finish his last set of 250lb bench presses. He showers and is back in bed for cuddles before you even start to stir awake.

He loves animals. They remind him that goodness and innocence still exist in the world. While he may be embarrassed being seen with a small doggy in his arms, he will still love and spoil them to no end. Doing even get him started on cats. He will just sit in the same room as one and feel so understood. Reptiles, fish, etc. he loves them all.

Simon likes a rare steak. He doesn't like it cooked any more than that, but he will suddenly love medium if it's what you made. (He calls it shoe leather if overcooked anywhere else)

He has such nice teeth. Despite the stereotypes around British people and having bad teeth, Simon's are naturally pretty straight. He uses floss and mouthwash as well as a whitening toothpaste.

He will do whatever accent you have (if it's different than yours) just to see you giggle.

Simon added your birth month flower into his arm sleeve. The one sweet thing that's permanently on his body and it's dedicated to you.

He loves taking baths both with and without you. They relax his muscles in a way that showers can't. Having such a big, heavy body means gravity isn't on your side, so when he can have some relief in the tub, he's a happy man.

NSFW BELOW: If you are under 18 please scroll :)

Simon can be rough, but he prefers not to be. You're his sweet little thing, why would he want to put you in a position that is anything but comforting and full of love? Sure, if you're into the more kinky stuff, he will gladly oblige, but he may not do anything that includes intense degradation.

He prefers to be praised and loved on rather than humiliated or degraded. Simon has endured enough of that growing up and in his job. He loves your gentle touches and sweet kisses, so different than what he normally experiences.

Simon cums so much. It's an obscene amount every time he cums. He will also go multiple rounds if you let him. Being away for so long means having several fantasies he wants to play out. You guys have long abandoned getting new sheets after they're stained with your love.

He is pretty insecure about his body. His scars, his proportions, anything really. Simon loves it when you reassure him and make him feel loved down to the bone. He even still blushes when he's getting undressed and your hungry eyes are eating him up.

His favorite position is sitting up with you riding him. Hugging you while you grind and bounce on his cock is heaven. He can see the pretty faces you make and see your tits jiggle, too. It's one of the best positions to get you to cum quick, which is always his goal. He would never deprive you of a quick release.

His cum tastes good. He eats pretty clean (and eats some extra things to make it taste good for you), so you never mind giving him a quick blowie to ease some tension

He is a munch. He loves to feel your thighs fight against his hands as they quake and shiver from the use of his tongue on your pussy. You'll hear how sloppy he's being and the moans he's letting out as he humps the bed. It's such a turn-on for him, he can't help it.

Simon is vocal in bed. Why be quiet when you can be loud and tell everyone how good your partner is being. Whines, whimpers, moans, cursing, you name it. He knows how much you love hearing him, so he does nothing to hide his noises of pleasure.

If you liked this, please send some more suggestions and Simon quirks to my inbox so I can continue this list!

#call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost #simon riley x you #tf 141 #smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley headcanons #ghost smut #ghost fluff #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost smut #simon riley imagine

835 notes · View notes

shadowkoo · 2 months ago

Text

Up In Flames - Part 1

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! and a big thank you to booki @kwanisms for reading this over for me so last minute. this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?” His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

→ Taglist: want to be notified when i post new fics join my taglist here! OR follow @shadowkoo-fics & turn on post notifications! OR subscribe to my ao3 page!

@gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @lovetaroandtaemin @daniela-f-uwu @gyuguys @fancypeacepersona

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

859 notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jeno ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jeno x f!idol!reader

summary: there's no way that the boy in the picture you've been sent is the same boy that was your best friend almost a decade ago... right?

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

a/n: I am not currently accepting any new self-on kode requests

divider from adornedwithlight <3

To say you were nervous was an understatement. This was your first ever official talk show interview after a long needed hiatus. You had been in the public spotlight for years now with only a few shorts in between. There was no nearly enough time off to make up for the long days and even longer nights. Now though, you felt extremely well rested and very ready to promote your new album.

With the go ahead from the staff you smiled brightly at the camera, kicking on your charisma. You wiggle your fingers in a wave, "hello there, I bet you've missed me, huh? Today I will be messaging a stranger and I'll have to try to figure out who it is."

While your music kicked on and you bopped your head to the song, Jeno walked onto the set, settling into the pink armchair with his usual eye smile at the camera. "Hello again, I am Jeno from NCT Dream," he bows his head softly before mumbling to himself, "I hope this is better than last time."

He looks at the staff directly, eyes wide with nervous curiosity, "it's not Chenle this time right? This time it's real?" The staff nod while laughing and he relaxes into the plush chair and types out the first message, a simple hello.

You read the message and type out your response. The conversation continues for a while, simple small talk as each of you try to sus each other out. You know that he's very inquisitive, every other message is a question, and he seems young since he uses slang and understands your jokes.

Then comes the first prompt, send your most recent food orders you slowly raise your gaze from your screen to the camera. "This is not going to be very exciting on my end," you warn before taking the screen shot and sending it to your partner.

You study the screenshot sent your way, making conversation about the various dishes and complimenting their taste. Then it comes, Jeno's brows furrow, mumbling to himself, "am I seeing this right?"

His finger tap against his screen quickly, "you haven't ordered any food in three months?"

You purse your lips as you reply, "I just spent a long break at home with my family. I don't want to eat out when my mom and grandma are cooking for me anyway."

Jeno hums in agreement, replying, "that makes sense. If I was home I don't think I'd eat out much either."

From that point on the conversation continues and it feels easier. You're still not sure exactly who you're texting but you just get the vibe that it's a younger guy, maybe even someone your age.

Finally after silly would you rathers and stupid conversations, the interview is coming to an end with an exchange of childhood pictures and your drawing of your partner.

You send a picture of yourself as a toddler, the bowl cut style on your head makes it impossible to determine your gender and it's an old enough picture that it doesn't look too much like you now. Plus, it's only half the picture, even harder to figure out who you are.

Jeno sighs as he looks at the screen, he's not a good artist, drawing isn't his thing, not even close. He sends off his picture without a second thought and gets to work doodling and writing captions or ideas when he doesn't trust his drawing skills. He grumbles to himself as he tries his best to create a drawing or as close as he can get to a drawing as he can.

But on the other side of the wall you sit, staring at the image. Something about it just seems so... familiar. The picture is half of a little boy, he has one hand holding up a thumbs up, his eyes nearly closed with how big his smile is, and someone else's arm thrown over his shoulder pinching his cheek. Why does this picture of a random half a little boy seem so familiar?

Your phone buzzed multiple times, but you can't tear your eyes away from the picture, forcing your brain to work twice as hard to try to place the image.

Jeno stares at his phone with pure confusion. His fingers tap over the keyboard, "hello? Are you there? Hellooooo? Are you in the bathroom? Is this another prank?"

You shake your head, ignoring the prompt and the drawing sent your way. It's a bad drawing anyway. You reply, "send me the whole picture."

Jeno looks at the staff with wide eyes, "huh? Is that allowed?" The staff shrug, trying to seem nonchalant so he sends the full picture your way, waiting for your response with pure curiosity.

On your end you gasp. You know why the picture looks so familiar. The bracelet hanging off the second person's wrist, the house in the backyard, the young kid in the picture. You look at the camera, "it's Jeno!"

Lee Jeno. You hadn't seen or heard from him in years. He had been both your neighbor and your best friend when you were a kid but sometime around 11 or 12 years old he moved away and you lost touch. He had started training for SM and a year later you started training for another company. At that point you didn't really even have time to think about him since you were so busy with your own career. You had seen his debut and kept up with every comeback as a silent fan. Jeno had been your best friend, of course you were going to support him.

You never felt the need to share that you knew the Lee Jeno from NCT Dream. Fans could be crazy with the little amount of information you already shared and you didn't want to deal with any unnecessary haters for simple having a friend when you were a child. Plus, the topic simply never came up. Interviewers didn't ask about your childhood friends, they didn't ask about former neighbors, or any other idols that you might know. It was easy to hide, but not now.

Instead of waiting for the countdown from the staff, you pulled out your earbuds and left your phone on the seat and walked toward the blue half of the set. His eyes look up, you can see it in his eyes that he recognizes you and then warmth floods his face as he jumps from his chair and hugs you tightly. He laughs with disbelief, "it's you!"

You laugh, tightening your arms around him while the staff all coo and aww behind the camera. The hug lasts much longer than what is shown in the video and the editors thankfully cut the scenes where you cry happy tears.

You and Jeno sit side by side at a high top table, listening to the staff ask you both to share your story. You laugh, "Jeno and I were neighbors and best friends growing up. Our moms were best friends after his family moved in a few houses away since they both had babies about the same age and after that Jeno and I became best friends too. We went to school together, we had play dates, we had dinner at each other's houses almost every night. He was my best friend."

Jeno smiles at you, finding it hard to turn his attention back to the camera when you're sitting beside him looking so happy as much more mature than you did over a decade ago. Did the crush he had on you just reignite? He shakes his head, refocusing himself, "yeah, but then I started training and we lost touch. I guess we never thought to exchange information. Every time I went home during breaks you were gone and vice versa. It is very good to see you again, though."

Jeno bumps your shoulder with his own, "so, what about the picture gave it away?"

You deadpan, "Jeno, it's my hand squeezing your cheek and it's in front of my house."

Jeno flushes, nodding awkwardly, "...right."

You laugh and the two of you finally get the opportunity to catch up, for a little too long. You know that over half of this conversation will be cut. You talk about your moms, how his life is going, your newest comeback and childhood memories.

Finally, the staff have the heart to interrupt you both and instruct you both to take the picture. Instead of the usual selfie, you and Jeno ask one of the staff to take the picture for you. Jeno has to bend his knees to match your height as he rests his head on your shoulder, holding his thumb up while your fingers lightly squeeze his cheek. You both have matching bright smiles on your faces as the screen fades to the closing screen with a side by side of your full childhood picture together and the remake.

It's no surprise that a few months later you and Jeno are seen together more and more. He mentions you in lives and in vlogs and you do the same. It's a year or so later when your companies finally confirm that you're both dating, but your fans didn't need the confirmation. It was made abundantly clear that you and Jeno knew each other better than anyone else.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno imagines

603 notes · View notes

beababoobies · 1 year ago

Note

ME AGAIN!!! WITH A SAL X READER REQUEST (again) THIS TIME AIDJSJDH. a porn one at that !!!!

i need sal so bad its an actual problem

just like. imagine reader n the gang r havin a little sleepover. and reader is just so inconsolably turned on for some reason (maybe sal had his hand on their thigh when they watched a movie or smthin), so when everyone is asleep they asks sal to help them out :,,,) (his fingers r just so long n pretty,, they cant help but want them lol)

mayb he has to keep them quiet somehow, mayb covers their mouth/puts his fingers in their mouth to muffle them

hes so shy and nervous and awkward but he’s having the time of his life, watching the reader’s reactions. mayb he cant help but get himself off too, too enraptured by the way reader struggles to gasp and whine against his fingers

GOD DAMN.

would love if u wrote this mootie 🫶🏼🫶🏼 no pressure ofc ofc ofc !! (fem bodied reader pls if u dont mind <3!)

(i might write this too, i love my mind sometimes 🙏)

hey mootie!! Im giving you the fast pass because all the jjk stuff you repost got me into the series and I’m loving it, also cus you’re AMAZING! All characters are aged 20+ because this is based in chapter five of course, please do enjoy! :) (and for everyone waiting for their Hazbin requests to be filled - IT IS COMING! I am a busy woman.)

Needy - Sal Fisher X Fem!Reader

words : 2k, warnings : SPICAYYYY!!, creampie, fingering, slightly public, needy!sal AND needy!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys, c’mon), hold the moan trope

The entire gang had been having more sleepovers ever since Sal and Todd had found the new house. Larry was moving in so it was just the normal next step, and you loved coming over so much. More specifically to spend time with your boyfriend, but also just to feel like old times again. Even Ash came from the city every once and a while, and this was one of those days.

Since it was Larry’s last day living in the Apartments, you had all agreed to made the most out of that small basement apartment you had spent so much of your awkward teen years in. You had been doing all the same shit you used to all day - smoking in the treehouse, playing card games for hours.

You and Sal huddled up around his old gamebuddy, playing the games Larry had kept long forgotten in the corners of his room, Larry and Ash painting on a shared canvas, chatting about life while Larry’s old metal mixtapes blasted in the background, and Todd and Neil cuddled up on the beanbag in the corner, occasionally joining in their conversation, but mostly just cuddled up and enjoying each others company. All of this was wonderful, nostalgic - even healing.

That was all up until Sal quietly suggested you all watched an old horror movie, and you were all huddled together in the dark, you with Sal leaning on your shoulder on your right, and Ash on your left, giggling and nudging you like old times. Larry laid out casually on the floor in front of you all because of how shit his eyes were from years of refusing glasses. Which should’ve been fine.

In fact - it was fine. Until Sal decided it would be a wonderful idea to put his hand on your thigh. Your bare thigh, just below where your miniskirt started. And even that - even that, you could’ve survived with some unwanted heat in your panties. But no, the blue fucker jumped at one of the scenes, hand sliding up the inside of your thigh to accidentally drag your skirt up, his hand knocking against your warm core - hand rubbing up against your clothed clit as he pulled his hand away, and all you could do was pull your hand away from where it was sweetly brushing through Ashley’s hair like you used to do, straight to your face to hide the unbelievably needy whine you would’ve let out.

“you okay?” Ashley whispers softly, looking over to you and you just nod quickly, watching her go back to watching the movie before shooting Sal a venomous glance, which he avoids nervously, already feeling your stare of death shoot through the side of his head. You pierced your lips together, putting one leg over the other and squeezing your thighs firmly shut, Sal’s hand now comfortably resting much, much lower on your thigh. Practically on your calve, as he preferred not to die tonight.

But that’s when it started, the unwanted slick already gently collecting in your panties, your mind running through all the things you wanted to do to him - what you wanted him to do to you. God, your mind was like a dog in heat. You couldn’t even bear to focus on the movie, sitting there, cautiously eyeing up your dead silent boyfriend. His shirt ridden up his stomach just oh-so-slightly from the way he was slouched back, soft happy trail of blue peeking out from under his shirt. God, what you would do to pull those stupid red torn up jeans down - not even fully - and ride him until he was shooting blanks and sobbing under you.

That is how it went on for the rest of the movie. That is exactly how it went on when you all decided the sleeping plan. That is where your mind still was when you and Sal decided to take the pullout couch, Todd and Neil in Lisa’s old room, and Larry sleeping on his bed with Ashley on a cot on his floor. With the thinnest fucking walls known to man kind. You should know - you grew up with the same ones.

Sal yawned as he laid next to you, mask placed softly on the table right beside the couch, as well as his glass eye floating in a cup, looking at you nervously as he pulled the covers up over himself too, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him from behind, expecting you to be asleep by now - you were a heavy sleeper, he was an insomniac. It worked out like that. Until he heard a soft, half-whine of a whisper come from you.

“S-sal..” you mumbled softly, pressing yourself back against him, causing him to let out a soft whine of his own, hand around your waist flinching ever so softly. “P-please baby, need you so bad..” you mumbled out softly, turning around to face him, seeing the needy tears in your eyes had him melting as well, piercing his lips together as he grips softly at your side.

“N-no, you know how thin these walls are - I’m sorry about earlier, but..” he says nervously as he watches you whine and writhe softly, pressing yourself up against him, one hand on his chest. That’s when you decide to make the move, grabbing his hand and moving to in-between your legs so he can feel how absolutely soaked through your panties are, causing him to experimentally run his fingers over them, biting down on his scarred lip so hard he’s concerned it might bleed. You can’t help a choked whine and a buck of your hips against his hand at that, looking up at him with those needy eyes. Fuck.

He doesn’t say a word as he puts two shaky fingers to your lips, and you wrap your mouth around them without question, twirling your tongue around them and sucking on them like your life depended on it, all while he shakily pulled you panties to the side, prodding his fingers at your soaked hole, a quiet ‘fuck.’ Escaping his mouth when he slides one in with ease, feeling the vibrations around his fingers as you whine. “G-gotta be quiet, please - we h have to be quiet..” he mumbles out messily as he feels his cock throb to life in his sleep shorts, smearing precum across his thigh when he feels your cunt clench needily around his fingers.

He lets out a sigh of relief when you quickly nod at him, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts to curl his long fingers inside of you, the obscene squealing noise making him whimper softly, hips accidentally bucking softly against your thigh as his cock tries to find some sort of friction - daydreaming about how easily he could slip inside you right now with how wet you are - how you would feel around his cock, velvety walks clenching around him and providing him that oh so delicious friction he was searching for.

His thumb moves to gently circle your clit as you start to find a slow grinding rhythm against his hand, practically riding his fingers as he finds that delicious spongy spot on your walls and pushes his fingers up against it, causing your cunt to give another urgent and needy clench, more slick falling into his palm, making a mess as he tries his best not to whine himself.

The slippery sounds of friction, the feeling of your thigh twitching pressed up right against his own throbbing problem, or the way his fingertips are pressing up against the entrance to your throat, the way his other fingertips are pressed up against your velvety walls. It’s driving him beyond insane, to the point he’s thinking he might cum in his sleep shorts if it continues this way. And he didn’t bring an extra pair - and it would just be a waste if he didn’t cum inside of you - not while you were practically begging for it.

“B-baby.” He whines out, catching your attention for a second, tears of pleasure falling softly down your face as your hips still, whining against his hand from the way you stopped while being so close - it was beyond downright embarrassing how quickly you were about to cum, and you were honestly glad he stopped you. “C-can i please put it in? J-just the tip, please baby, ‘s so sensitive. Need you so bad.” He whines quietly and softly, pressing his hard on against your thigh to back up his own statement, whining softly again. “Just wann’ cum inside you, please…” he whispers, watching you nod eagerly.

Pulling his fingers out of you with an obscenely wet pop, pulling your soaked panties to the side and he lets out an erotic sigh pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he pulled his shorts down, cock slapping to attention against his abdomen, precum beading from the sensitive tip as he shakily pulled your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and gently rubbing it against your entrance, and you could hear how wet you were when he moved his tip to part your drenched lips and drag through them, whining into the crook of your neck as you grabbed his shoulders, brain fuzzy with the way his hot tip felt rubbing against your clit, sticky with your own slick.

He bit down hard on your shoulder as his tip popped past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance, desperately rutting against you, trying not to whine or let slip how good it felt to be inside you - the way your hot, heady slick insides felt like they were trying to pull him in deeper. His hand cupped your mouth quickly, stopping you from making a sound as he gently pushed himself further inside you, feeling you grip tightly at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he broke his promise, pushing his cock inside of you, inch by desperate inch, trying not to slam his entire cock into you at once - which was unbelievably hard, considering how wet you were, and how desperate he was - his tip prodded at your cervix, making you jerk forward, groaning against the palm of his hand.

He rutted into you desperately, not daring to thrust properly, letting everyone else hear how wet and desperate you were, or even worse, how even needier he was for you, the head of his cock bumping against your sweet spot, the only sound in the air being the quiet sounds of your muffled whines, and the quiet rustling of sheets as he ground into you, abdomen rubbing against your clit as he did so, bringing you to the edge so much faster than you ever expected, cunt clenching around him, the sign that you were about to cum. He just nodded into the nape of your neck, hips refusing to stop.

“m-me too, fuck, me too, me too ‘m gonna cum, ‘s too tight, ‘s so warm.” He half whines, half whispers right into your neck as he detaches his teeth from your shoulder for a second, before hurriedly latching them back onto your neck as you feel his cock violently twitch inside you, whining desperately into his hand as you felt yourself start to cum, cunt clenching around him desperately, slick flooding from you and creating an obscene squelching between you two as you spasmed and arched under him.

He groaned into your neck as he quickly pulled his face from your neck, smashing his lips desperately against yours, muffling his own groans as he pushes himself as deep into you as he can go, cumming hot ropes into you as he stills, thighs twitching as he pulls his mouth from you, both of you panting and catching your breaths, feeling the warm liquid pool out of you and spill onto Sal’s abdomen as he lets out a small and raspy chuckle, still catching his breath.

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

#sal fisher #sally face #sally face x reader #larry johnson #sal fisher x reader #sally fisher #ashley campbell #todd morrison #neil sally face #sal fisher smut #sal fisher x reader smut #JESUS CHRIST!!! WOW!! MY FIRST SMUT!!

3K notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 6 months ago

Text

RIGHT OFF OUR BONES ♡

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: one year after leon inserted himself into your life, he has a special way to celebrate your anniversary. the life-changing decision that's haunted you since that night in your room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, blood play and drinking, knife play, religious imagery

wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy halloween!! i hope you guys like this one. technically it is a part 2 to this fic, although this can be read as a stand alone since the past events are explained in it. anyways reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated as always <3

kinktober slot: vampire leon (he's special he gets his own day)

His lips landed on the knuckles of your middle and ring finger just as the clock on his wrist struck midnight. He wanted to be touching you as the day turned over. Minutes ago this night had been like any other, but now it was officially something special.

It was your anniversary.

Your eyes watched him. His features remained piercing even in the darkness of the club. The lights hit him just right where the two of you sat on the upper balcony. A beautiful array of reds glowed on his cheek. His nose and brow cast sharp shadows. You can't help but be entranced by the sight, and that fact only became more true when his eyes flitted up and looked at yours.

"One whole year, beloved."

Despite the blaring music, you heard him as though he whispered the words right in your ear. You nodded in return, not confident your own voice could carry over the drums in the same manner.

You watched him smirk. He knew what you were thinking. Not even metaphorically. He had the sixth sense of the mind. It only took him six months of your relationship to inform you of that.

One whole year. You could hardly believe it. These months had passed you by quicker than any other year in your past. Knowing Leon and letting him in had turned your life into a blur of bloody kisses and long nights. Days became fleeting, just intervals of time you had to endure between his visits.

The version of you who had been sleeping peacefully in her bed the night he first snuck in never would have envisioned this becoming her reality. You couldn't have imagined Leon, who'd been nothing more than a faceless form in the background to you, would sink his fangs so deep into every facet of your being.

You'd been scared of him at first, then thrilled, captivated by the danger he brought. That stayed true for a while, and it still might be true today. You love him now though, so it's harder to pinpoint. The fear has become muddled with the devotion and adoration, the worship and the reverence.

"Are you ready to see your surprise?" he asked, cutting into your thoughts.

You nodded again, fingers clasping around his icy palm as he rose to his feet. He pulled you to your own before guiding you through the gatherings of people on the way to the stairs. The song playing reverberated through the metal of the suspended walkway. The lyrics about holding you close and tearing you apart wrapped around each part of you and sunk through your skin.

Leon had been teasing you with this surprise for the past week. He wouldn't give you a clue as to what it was beyond the fact that it was for your anniversary.

He traversed the stairs in front of you. Not a hair on his head moved with the motion. It stayed slick back in place. When you reached the bottom, his grip on your hand remained just as firm. There were more people down there. More eyes catching on his presence. His alabaster skin and obsidian shirt. He didn't return any of their looks though. He walked through them as if infected with a disease, which in a sense was the case. Maybe all of these people knew that deep down but didn't have the words to articulate it.

They didn't have the knowledge that monsters were real. That life didn't have to be a straight path to death. There were ways to subvert it and prolong existence. To become an imitation of a living being. In childish terms - as your lover called it - to become a vampire.

The two of you floated through the exit of the club and out onto the sidewalk. You could still hear the music from outside the stone walls. The song switched over into something filled with synth. The change meant nothing to you though as Leon continued tugging you in the opposite direction of his feeding ground.

Your shoulders shuddered as the cold of the night started to gloss over your bare skin. A light breeze blew over you too, swishing the crimson fabric on the skirt of your dress.

"Are you cold?" Leon asked simply.

He found your mortal needs cute. Little ways he could take care of you and show that he had your best interest in mind. Small methods of building your dependence on him.

"A little bit," you answered as he'd expected.

Nodding in acknowledgement, he released your hand and draped his arm over your shoulders instead. He pulled you close, tucking you to his side. It didn't help much in terms of physical warmth given that he didn't emit any, but the gesture unleashed a swarm of butterflies in your belly that carried the heat of affection up into your chest and shoulders.

Smile now on your face, you turned to look at him.

"So... Do I get to know where we're going?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

He returned the gaze by looking over at you.

"Have some patience. You've been waiting an entire year for this. I think you can last a few minutes more."

His familiar smirk curled his lips into a picture of smug superiority. There was nothing Leon enjoyed more than being able to have a hold on you. To know something you didn't. It made him feel like your keeper. The one who could guide you through this world and into any others.

"Not even a hint?" you teased.

"Not one," he confirmed. Leaning in, he gave you a quick peck on the lips as a reward for your expected patience.

You only had to walk a handful more blocks before your destination came into view. The ground beneath your heels softened, transitioning from solid concrete to loose dirt. Decaying grass lined the walkway to the iron gates. Lights from the city streets faded into the distance, bringing a different kind of chill over you. The thrill of isolation surrounded you even though you were with someone else. It brought the sense that it was just you two in the world right now.

'Raccoon City Cemetery' was displayed in thin letters above the gaunt points of the fencing. The gates opened with a rusty creak and shut with the same sound.

"The cemetery?" you asked, "Is this your version of romantic?"

"You'll see. I think you'll come to see it my way soon enough. Like you always do," he replied, his voice picking up a bit of a teasing lilt.

You laughed quietly as he pulled you along the rows of headstones. "Are you calling me a pushover?"

"Never, sweetheart. Only trusting. Susceptible to my persuasion. But that's how I like you."

The pair of you continued heading deeper into the fields of remains. Flowers decorated a collection of graves while others were left desolate. He pulled you into a sharp turn around a mossy one and down a few more rows. You passed one more that was cracked before he finally stopped.

He looked at you before you could even think to ask anything. His arm fell from your shoulders, and his hand landed on your waist instead. He pulled you to stand in front of him. His other arm matched the placement of his other one, both of them snaking around you and holding you flush against his chest.

You felt his chin rest on your shoulder and his lips peck your throat a few times as your eyes trained on the stone about six feet from you. It was one of the empty ones. The rock looked fresh though, not marred or weathered like some of the others. Though not a single bouquet had been left in honor of the person who lay below.

Or who was supposed to be lying below.

Your eyes caught on the lettering engraved across the hard surface. Leon Scott Kennedy. Some details sat a few inches down. His date of birth. His date of death. An inscription that said "Lived to protect. Died doing just that. Will live on in the hearts of those he saved. Rest in Peace."

Honestly, you didn't know what to say. As much time as you'd spent with Leon over the past year, his past was still pretty foreign to you. You knew he worked a high-stress government job pertaining to bioweapons, that it was how he became what he is now, and that no part of it has carried over to his 'new life.'

Whenever you were together, he was more interested in talking about you. Your problems and your feelings. Your thoughts and experiences. He would provide insight, let you know his way of viewing the world and moving about it. But he kept discussions of his own history to a minimum, staying closed off in that regard. Though in his own way, you guess this counted as opening up.

You huffed out a breathy laugh and glanced at him. "Would you say you're resting in peace?"

"With you?" he teased, "Not one day."

Your smile persisted across your features, but your eyes returned to the headstone.

"Is it real?"

"Of course it is."

"Did you actually die?"

"I think the version of me it was made for did."

You remained silent for a few moments, for no other reason than to think over what he's telling you. One of your hands drifted to his that was splayed across your tummy. You locked your warm fingers with his cold ones.

"So everyone thinks you're dead?"

"Everyone who used to know me, yes," he answered before pausing, "I've been careful. It's a lot easier to avoid people when you only go out at night."

You nodded, but you still had more questions. "What happened to you?"

"I got sick. Before I evolved. It was really bad. The person who gave me this... whatever it is, they didn't infect me the easy way. They tried to kill me," he began to explain, "I was on an assignment in Romania, investigating a group of potential bioterrorists. They were like me. My squad killed all of them. Before the last one died though, he got me. Nearly ripped out my throat, but some of the venom got in.

"It was like living in a state of death for weeks. Felt like all the blood in my body stopped. They could barely feel my heart beat. I was pale, my eyes glossy like no one was there. Until suddenly, I came back better than before. It was like everything started flowing again, ten times stronger, stampeding through my veins."

You listened to him, each word painting an image in your mind. The other sounds in the graveyard faded to nothing. Chirps of crickets, leaves rustling in the wind, far-away calls of the city all background noise as you ingested his chilling story.

"I left a note. I guess they wanted to spare the embarrassment of a suicide, so they recorded it as if the sickness took me," he finished.

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked finally.

"Because I want you to know what you're getting into before I ask you to decide."

Your heart seizes in your chest, locking up with the implication of those words. So this was the surprise. The decision. The choice you'd asked about a year ago. The one he deemed you unfit for at the time. Internally, you wondered what changed.

"Decide if I want to be... like you?" you checked.

He nodded, his fingers stroking back and forth over the red cloth around your waist.

"I want you to think about it," he whispers, "You have to understand that if you make the change. There's no going back."

Stepping away from you, he walked around to stand in front. The moonlight shone down on his back, drowning him in shadows to your eyes. He stood above where his corpse was supposed to be lying in eternal rest.

Your heart pumped in the same steady rhythm but hard. You knew he could hear it. He reached out, grabbing one of your arms by the elbow. His fingers trailed down to your wrist.

"You'll still be mine either way, darling," he said. His striking eyes locked with yours. Even in the darkness, they stood out like prized jewels.

You still remained silent, mulling over the decision in your mind. It probably wasn't one you should make in such a short span of time given that it would change the rest of your life. On one hand, you could be like him. You could live forever. You could feed off the flesh of others, living solely during the nocturnal hours. Or you could maintain the status quo. Continue being his little mortal that he watched over and fed from on occasion.

What Leon didn't tell you was that it wasn't really a decision. At least not yours. An answer indicating you didn't want to change would suffice for now but not forever. You were his little human. His mate. He wouldn't live in a world without you. If he had to wait a while longer for you to be ready, so be it, but one day, you would be his in every sense.

Luckily for him though, you seem to already be swaying in his favor.

You stepped towards him. The soft dirt molded to the print of your shoe. "But if I change, won't things be different? Like between us?" you asked.

He couldn't help the smile that rose to his face. You always phrased things in the sweetest way. He found everything about it absolutely adorable. From your naive cadence to your shimmery doe eyes. His hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth over the soft expanse.

"Things would be different, yeah. But different doesn't mean all bad," he said.

He pulled you in closer by the back of your head. His muscular arm guided you in so your front was flush against his, those wondrous eyes gazing up at his face.

"I won't lie to you, at first things will be hard. This thing... it can feel like a curse," he murmured, "The taste of blood takes a while to get used to. The feeling of your prey going limp in your arms... it's a thrill like you can't even imagine. So horrific but satisfying."

The whispered words brought a chill over you stronger than the one inflicted by the night air. Staring into his eyes almost felt as if you were hypnotizing yourself, locking your mind into the trance of a predator you wouldn't be able to escape.

"But it can also be a gift," he continued, "You wouldn't have to worry about meaningless mortal worries. Wouldn't have to fear the idea of aging into irrelevancy."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. Already, you feel the urge to give in. Leon was nothing if not enticing, and the idea of being with him forever... it didn't sound so bad.

"How do you do it?" you finally asked.

His eyes gleamed with excitement at your wavering resolve. He pecked your lips, then the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. His mouth landed on your neck near your ear, just above the two faint markings that came from him sinking his fangs into you every so often.

"It'll be quick and painless, angel. Just a little bit of my blood should do it," he said.

You bit your lip at the thought. While his mouth latched onto your neck every other week, you'd never had the luxury of returning the favor. The image of it in your mind was sickening but exhilarating at the same time.

"If I change... will you still wanna drink from me? Will you still need me?" you wondered aloud.

"Of course, I'll need you. I'll always need you. Just not in that way after you evolve," he said and brought his face to be level with yours again, "Once you're like me, your blood will be too divine to be used only in that way. That's not to say I won't drink from you though."

Your eyes studied his face, trying to discern his meaning. He moved his mouth in and nipped at your lips.

"When you're like me, I'll drink from you for fun. Pure pleasure. Not because I need it to survive, but because I rather wouldn't without the taste of you," he said.

Blood rushed throughout your body as your heart pounded faster for him. You couldn't think of any reason to say no at this point. There didn't seem to be anything in your human life that would tether you to the only world you'd known. Instead, you wanted to bind yourself to the man in front of you. Your mate.

After only a few more seconds of thought, you whispered, "I'll do it."

His lips split into a wild grin. "That's my girl. My sweet little doll."

His arms looped around your figure and kept you right up against him. He kissed you without reserve now. The spoils of your decision were yours now. There was no reason to tease, no more reason to hint at things.

A delicate moan escaped your lips. You melted into the affection, resting your arms on his shoulders and shutting your eyes. The only two people in the world right now were you and him.

His hands rubbed up and down your back. They slid over your curves and massaged the tender flesh through your dress. His fingers fell to your ass, kneading the plush softness there. Following in the same direction, his lips drifted down your throat. They coasted over the pulsing of your carotid artery and onto the center where your vocal chords thrummed.

He kissed over your collar bone and the top of your chest left exposed by your dress. Your head fell back between your shoulders. The pleasure reverberating through you evaporated your thoughts into hot air between your ears. Your fingers threaded into his soft, ashy locks.

"Leon," you breathed. The word spilled from your lips like a prayer.

Straightening out, he stood up. "Be patient, baby. You should cherish these last moments you'll have, living the life you've always known."

His fingers began undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. The stiff fabric parted, revealing his alabaster chest and the chiseled definition of his abdomen. Both sides fell away. He left the garment hanging over his shoulders. He didn't bother discarding it entirely.

Next, from his pocket came what looked like a crucifix. You watched him bring the small item into view with curiosity. You tried to piece together its purpose or significance in this moment, unable to find one until his thumb pressed on a raised charm in the center and slid it downward.

A shining silver blade poked from the bottom. The point of it was sharper than any knife you'd ever seen. Each edge of the metal shimmered with the propensity to wound.

He could feel the way your eyes magnetized to the sleek surface. His cock kicked in his trousers from how entranced you appeared. Lowering to his knees, he rested a hand upon your shoulder and guided you down with him.

He didn't go for the transformation right away. His lips found yours again, engaging you in another passionate exchange. Your breaths puffed against his face. The hot air fanned across his skin. A small reminder of the heat he'd be harnessing forever.

His hands roamed your body. They pulled up the flowy bottom of your dress, bringing it above your hips. Your skin pebbled with the new coolness.

"Leon..." you whimpered. It was different from your last calling of his name. This one held some anxiety and trepidation. Both emotions you would be mostly freed from in a matter of minutes.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he muttered.

"Just... someone could see," you said, "Shouldn't we be quick?"

He chuckled and just shook his head, not stopping lavishing you with affection. "No one is here besides us. And even if there were, you know I would hear them coming," he teased, "They wouldn't be able to stop us anyway. No one is getting between you and I right now."

You keened under his touch. It was the truth. Anyone who tried to interrupt would be quickly silenced by your lover. Without the need for worry, you let out a sigh and relaxed. You could let yourself enjoy this.

The two of you made out for a while longer, the exact amount of time lost in the flurry of touches. When your eyes felt droopy and your lips swollen and wet, he finally pulled away. You blinked at him, and he dragged his fingers down your jaw.

"You're ready. This will be nice and easy. You just do as I say," he whispered.

He leaned back onto his knees. His skin glowed under the pale moonlight. The crucifix shined brighter as he raised it. You watched in silent awe, barely able to understand the scene playing out before you.

His hand brought it to the muscle resting right above his heart. He held it there for a second before pressing it to his own skin. Your eyes were unable to pull away as the blade dug into the flesh, drawing a scarlet line over the unmarred surface. Deep red trickled from the wound.

Lifting his eyes back to you, he examined your reaction. He didn't sense much activity going on in your head, and the look on your face told him he had you hooked.

"Come here, baby," he whispered, cupping the back of your head, "Take a drink. As much as you can."

Slowly, he pulled you in. He directed you to his chest and positioned your head right where the cut bled. Without question, your lips parted. You were unsure of how to connect with his skin at first. But once that cool, sticky liquid hit your mouth, it came like the most natural thing in the world.

They engulfed the crimson scrape. Your tongue laved at it for more. Now it was his turn to groan. His head fell back, and his cock filled out below.

"That's it," he rasped, "Nice and steady."

You suckled some more, your efforts rewarded with a thick stream flowing into your mouth. It was divine. Like a waterfall straight from heaven. You whined at the taste and pressed your hips right against his thigh.

He had told you a year ago that yours was the sweetest blood he'd ever come across, but that was clearly only because he'd never tasted his own. All you could think while it oozed down your throat was that you wanted, no needed, more.

Your heart hammered so loud in your ears, you would've thought you were close to cardiac arrest. But it kept going and going until it evened out. It felt as though your body had ascended. Everything felt so intense now. The only thing that kept you grounded was nursing the blood from Leon's cut.

Eventually, he pulled on your neck. You needed a break even if you didn't understand that. His fingers curled around your throat and gently eased you off. You didn't want to, that was evident by the way you grabbed at him and resisted his hand.

"Shh, shh, shh," he cooed while lowering you back against the dirt of his grave, "You're alright. You can have some more in a little while. Just let your body adjust."

Your eyes closed again. It felt like your head was spinning. He stroked your cheek and down your neck while getting on top of you. Dropping the crucifix beside you, he parted your thighs. Every nerve ending on your body was firing away right now. He knew you'd be dripping for him.

His fingers coasted up and down the smooth flesh of your legs. He could sense the change in you already. Your scent was morphing. It would only be a matter of time until your eyes brightened and your fangs came in.

Pushing his hips forward, he ground his bulge against your core. You mewled in response. The simple touch was enough to spark a rampage of bliss within you.

"Good girl," he praised, "Such a good girl. I told you this is what you were meant for."

You nodded hazily. He knew you were registering the words, but it looked more like you were living in a dream right now rather than lucid life.

He'd seen enough to know there was nothing left to wait for. He reached down and unbuttoned his pants. Next went the zipper, and then he pulled his cock out. He tugged on his shaft, ensuring it was ready for you.

You were too caught up in the novel feelings flooding your senses to care about doing your part of the undressing, so he stepped in. His fingers hooked around the thin lace of your panties and yanked them down. They rolled in on themselves and dimpled the soft muscles of your thighs.

When your cunt was exposed to him, he saw his predictions had been true. Your folds glistened for him. The wetness sparkles under the silver light emanating from the sky.

"Pretty baby," he whispered while guiding his tip towards your entrance.

He lined it up with your hole before nudging it in. You sucked in a gasp, trembling at the intrusion. The connection felt all-consuming. The bond between you and Leon was above you now, out of your control. You couldn't break it if you wanted to. It was eternal.

His hands grabbed your hips, giving him leverage to thrust in and out of you. Skin clapped against skin while both of you moaned in ecstasy. The otherwise quiet cemetery filled with the sounds of your passion.

He rolled himself into you, sheathing his length in the tight embrace of your walls. You clamped around him. Every rock of his pelvis got you to squeeze on him. He panted with the restraint it took not to just pound you into the ground.

Your arms reached up, and your hands grabbed for him. Your fingers flexed as you tried to get him closer. He lowered himself, allowing you to drag him the rest of the way. Your scarlet-stained mouth kissed his lips with the same dedication you'd had for drinking his blood.

He groaned and returned the kisses. Saliva smeared over his chin. Your efforts were a bit cloudy from the lusty fog in your head. His name leaked from your mouth again. And again. And then again. As if it was the only word you knew. The only word you found worth knowing.

"Mhm. I'm right here, beloved. I'm here with you," he breathed.

"Forever," you whimpered.

Your forearm rested over the back of his neck, bobbling around with each jolt of his body. Your fingers lazily toyed with the ends of his hair. The strands felt like silk between your digits. He gazed into your eyes. Already, he could see your irises shifting to a stronger color.

"My beautiful little love. There's nothing more I could want. Just you with me till the rest of the world is dead and gone," he whispered.

You moaned in response. Your head nodded frantically. You couldn't be more eager to express your agreement.

He grinned and kissed your throat more. You could feel the points of his fangs scraping over the tender area. He didn't puncture like so many times before, he merely reminded you of the idea. Because of that, you knew he was close. He always wanted to bite right around the time the coils in his stomach started to tighten and his balls started to draw up.

Grunting against your neck, he kept his hold secure on you. His abs twitched while his breaths became labored. He pumped into your pussy a few more times before a breathy moan burst from him.

"Fuck..." he sighed.

He slammed into you for a final time, draining himself into your heat. You trembled a final few humanly shudders before deflating against the ground below you. Your head tilted back, and the headstone behind came into view again. You wondered if you'd get a similar one for yourself now or if you could just disappear into the night unnoticed.

He came down from his high with his face buried in the crook of your neck, but once his breathing had evened out, he pulled back to look down at you. He brushed his thumb over your cheek once more, cherishing the sight of your tinted lips and glassy eyes.

"This is only the beginning, beloved," he whispered, "This is the dawn of the rest of your days."

He connected you in one more kiss. One last gesture of his undying affection before he would help you put yourself back together again. He could already feel your skin beginning to cool.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines #ch: leon kennedy 💌

478 notes · View notes

shuacore · 5 months ago

Text

seventeeners' random habits <3

not sure where these came from but ye! not all really nervous habits but maybe... personal habits? quirks? idk (sfw)

seungcheol — clenching his jaw.

seungcheol never really gets angry, but he is incredibly impatient. his temper flares easily, whether it’s over stupid drivers or not having the right ingredient to make dinner in the fridge. quick to appear, quick to fade. even if he’s not irritated anymore, seungcheol will hold his tension in his jaw, clenching his teeth so hard you’re worried he’ll do permanent damage. when you catch him with his mouth shut tight, you’ll swipe a finger under his chin–just a little touch–that breaks his concentration. his eyes will widen when he realizes how tense he’s been, and as soon as he releases his jaw you see the tension melt from the rest of his body.

jeonghan — too blunt.

he considers himself to be an honest guy, but sometimes he’s a little too honest. you’ve gotten used to the way he offers his opinions–never with ill-intent, but often straight to the point and without padding—but others usually aren’t. when he’s talking to a friend about their problems, sometimes he’ll run a message by you before sending it. he wants to be transparent all the time, but that doesn’t mean he can’t sugar coat the truth every now and then.

joshua — adjusting his clothing.

joshua cares a lot about his appearance—maybe to a fault. he has a smooth, easy demeanor out in public, but you can tell he’s nervous when his fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt or when he tries to pull it down every few seconds. readjusting his necklaces, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it lays the way it should. but joshua always looks great, so when he seems extra nervous you slide your hand down his spine to rest at the small of his back. he finds it reassuring and uses it as a reminder to just take a breath.

jun — rambling.

jun isn’t very good at keeping quiet space. he doesn’t do it to be rude or annoying, he just has a lot to say and he likes to share with you. while it took a little getting used to, jun also brought more curiosity out of you. if you look like you’re in the middle of something he’ll ask if it’s a good time (even though sometimes he’ll still barge into your office and start talking anyway), but regardless, you’ve gotten used to the mindless chatter in the background. all jun needs every now and then is a nod to know you’re listening.

wonwoo — jiggling his leg.

he doesn’t even realize when he’s doing it anymore. wonwoo has a lot of nervous energy, especially when he gets put in unfamiliar settings, like the first time he met your parents or when he’s meeting your coworkers. he’ll bounce his right leg so fast even while in conversation with your dinner guests or while listening intently to something your father says. you can feel the vibrations through the floor and will give him a small smile while resting your palm on his knee. it’s just a tick for him, but he knows it makes you nervous sometimes so he makes a conscious effort to reel it in as often as possible.

jihoon — insomniac.

jihoon has on and off periods of insomnia. you try to help lessen the severity by going to bed around the same time as him, and getting ready for work as quiet in the mornings as possibly so as not to wake him. over the years you’ve gotten better about recognizing potential aggravators, like lights shining through windows or noisy streets. you make an effort to keep his favorite tea stocked in the cupboards and the room as dark as possible. he appreciates all the effort, especially the nights you stay up with him despite his protests that you go back to sleep. even if you end up falling asleep on him anyway, jihoon is grateful you’re willing to try.

soonyoung — frowning.

like seungcheol, soonyoung is an intense guy. everything is all or nothing, and sometimes the expectation of perfection leaves a lot of tension in his body. more often than not his face is frozen in a frown, brow furrowed deeply. he’s not angry—sometimes he’s just concentrating. when he’s been stuck in Work Mode for too long, you’ll take your thumb and smooth it over the spot in between his eyebrows. soonyoung will smile sheepishly when he realizes he’s been glaring at the tv screen. “see? that’s better,” you’ll say as his face finally relaxes.

minghao — gets lost in thought easily.

minghao is a deep thinker and someone of few words. the times he really opens up are late at night, when the stars have blossomed and the two of you are heavy with wine and sleep. he loves to discuss huge topics about morality and relativity and history, and more often than not gets caught in his head before his mouth has a chance to catch up. usually he stops talking, voice trailing off as he works through whatever big idea is growing in his head. typically you let him work it out in his own time, or you’ll catch his attention by brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. minghao just has so many ideas sometimes he needs someone to bring him back to earth.

mingyu — picking at his skin.

mingyu is generally fidgety, but when he gets nervous his fingers find their way to his skin—his face, his arms, his hands, his knees. you have a facial expression reserved for silently telling him to stop picking. sometimes he picks his skin until he bleeds and doesn’t even realize it. on bad days the only solution is to patch him up after. you keep bandaids with silly cartoon characters on them under your bathroom sink where you can access them easily. mingyu is trying to be more mindful of when he does it, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also love the way you press kisses to all of his injuries, too.

seokmin — humming.

for someone as musical as him, asking seokmin not to sing is like asking him not to breathe. usually it’s a lovely soundtrack as you do your daily tasks: a commercial jingle he heard on the TV as you brush your teeth and get dressed, his favorite song as you walk to the nearby grocery store, whatever’s on the radio as you make dinner. it can be a little much, however, if you’re trying to read or need to focus on a deadline for work. in those moments, seokmin is gracious enough to stay out of your way so as not to disturb you. he really tries to be quiet but it doesn’t always stick.

seungkwan — tapping.

his fingers are always moving. tapping on his knee, cracking his knuckles, scratching at the back of his neck. seungkwan always has so much energy and you have no idea where he gets it all. if he has to sit still for a while or concentrate on something, he needs to keep his fingers busy at the least. if you’re in public you’ll offer your palm for him to tap on or your leg. he likes to play with your fingers or tap patterns into the soft skin of your thigh while he talks about something else entirely. it’s a win for everyone.

vernon — nail biting.

when he’s trying to concentrate, when he’s anxious, even when he’s not thinking about anything at all, vernon bites his nails. most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and he’ll look at you in surprise when you point it out. you’ve tried the gross-tasting nail polish or keeping his nails clipped short, but neither worked for very long. the two of you have found the best method every time you catch him doing it is to gently tug his hand from his mouth, intertwining your fingers instead.

chan — terrible short-term memory.

he doesn’t forget things out of spite or for lack of effort, he just has a horrible memory. you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving notes around the house on bright blue post-it notes you know he can’t miss. you send him addresses to places before he has to leave because you know he’ll forget them. chan knows how exhausting it can be to constantly keep him in check, so he takes extra care to pick up on chores around the house he knows you hate. he might forget he has a dentist appointment tomorrow at 3, but if you forget to empty the dishwasher after a long day at work—fear not, lee chan has already done it.

lol! if anyone has any other ideas for a series of headcanons... pls send them my way i am craving more practice <3

everything else!

#shuacore thoughts #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #svt headcanons #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

368 notes · View notes

ghstzzn · 7 days ago

Note

what's up pooks my sexy babe i hope you're doing well and sexy as balls

hard thought for food : dilf!jake fucking you in all the oh so wrong settings but he gaslights you into believing him that it's okay because he's too horny to wait for home like that is so him coded for some reason

// hi baby, i went mean dilf!jay with this one. i hope you don’t mind <3 not proofread e.e public sex like. in some random hotel conference room with those shitty blinds, rough sex, breeding? big dick jay, dilf!jay, infidelity (not okay. however.) reader works for jay, he’s not a good guy but this is a drabble so who cares

you told him to stop. you told him to back off and that his wife was literally in the same fucking room. but he didn’t care.

no, jay didn’t care about a single thing, everything was beneath him and his pretty black and red louboutins.

almost everybody knew except for her after all. it was her fault according to him and his equally awful friends. this was his company, his party—you were his. starting out as his kids babysitter, and now, his young and beautiful assistant.

you were his employee, his best employee, his trophy to the company, his pocket pussy, his side whore, whatever he wanted you to be. and the shitty part about all of it was that you loved it.

“stop,” you spit, trying to keep your voice down as jay comes up behind you, groping you through the tiny dress he made you wear.

“stop what?”

you spin to face him, pushing him back. you’d come to regret that later. “your fucking wife is right there.”

jay looks past you, straight at his wife who seems to be too caught up in a few glasses of wine and the company of other housewives who contribute nothing to their husbands company but pretend they do.

“her? oh please, look at her.” and you do. you turn to face the woman he’s been cheating on for the last year. jay has always ranted and raved about being incredibly unhappy in his marriage, and how it was all just a contract to him. “she’s gonna go home in about thirty minutes… put the kids to sleep and forget about everything she saw tonight.”

his voice is low in your ear. a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“maybe i’ll record us.. send it to her… make her dream about us, yeah?”

you whip back around, “you’re a fucking asshole.”

jay chuckles, watching you walk away. he knew you fucking loved it. he takes a gulp of the remaining champagne in his glass, slamming it down before following you.

“come on, babygirl.” he grabs your arm, yanking you away from the hotel bar. “you’ve never cared before.”

“that was in private. when your literal wife wasn’t around.”

“she’s a mere contract to me.”

“that’s fucked up.”

he exhales through his nose, clearly frustrated you weren’t falling to your knees like you usually do. the male runs his hands through his already fucked up slicked back hair. “you wore the dress i picked out for you.”

you shrug at him.

“it looks really pretty on you,” jay continues, “you look beautiful tonight, my love.”

you were so easy. incredibly easy.

“you even wore my favorite perfume…”

and thats how you ended up bent over a solid wood conference table, nails digging into the polished surface as jay pounds into you from behind.

“fuck are you being so quiet for,” he grunts, pulling you up by your hair. “come on, don’t act shy here.”

you let out a yelp when he lets go, returning his hands to your ass to grope and slap at. “jay! f-fuck—slow down!”

“mmh, that’s right,” he leans down, cooing in your ear, “let them hear you.”

you turn your head, laying your cheek against the cold wood, the blinds of the conference room were lifted by in inch, making your heart pound. but jay didn’t care. he whips he head to follow your line of sight.

there were at least five people walking around, passing by the not so soundproof room, you wish you could hear them and you wonder if they could hear your moans from outside, but maybe it’s best not to.

yet the thought makes you clench around his cock.

“ohh, you fucking like that don’t you?” jay laughs, his fingers digging into your skin as he gives you long, deep thrusts, the head of his cock pushing against your cervix almost painfully. “my little assistant getting fucked good, huh?”

you nod your head, squinting your eyes. broken moans and whimpers leave your mouth and you attempt to block them with your hand but it’s no use when he knows your body so well.

“gonna let me cum in you? fill your cunt up nice and full?” he slams into you with each question, “wanna put my kids in you.”

he’s rambling and groaning under his breath at this point, an obvious sign that he was close. it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s spilling his seed inside of you.

but he keeps going, making sure you milk him dry, pushing his cum deep inside you with every thrust.

“i’m buying this fucking hotel tonight.”

#didnt want to double post but its jay day!!!#and i usually never write for idols bdays this just came at the perfect time #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #jay park hard hours #jay park hard thoughts #jay park x reader

189 notes · View notes

sugrhigh · 1 year ago

Text

THE BOY IS MINE - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- after years of friendship, you’ve seen matt date people before, but none of them have been as bad as this new one. you’ve never interfered with any of the girls in the past, but one night she takes it too far and your true feelings come out.

warnings- cursing, unprotected sex (pretend ur on birth control but also wrap it before you tap it), choking, cheating, dom!matt, it’s smut with a plot guys are we surprised (read at ur own fucking discretion PLEASE!)

a/n: thank you @stonermattsgf for the request!! i fucking loved this concept and the song eats down i hope i did u some justice <3 the touch it chris fic will be coming too cuz im fuckin with that song as well (if you weren’t tagged it wouldn’t let me tag you, i’m sorry!!)

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @sturnioloco @mattinside @l9vesick @sturnsblunt @ev3rgreenxtrees @wh0resstuff @matthewsmocktails @cherrypostsposts @bxbynyah7 @seababehh @sturnsfav @mattsluv @sturniolossss @melanch0lybby @sturniolos-blog @lustfulslxt @sturnioloobssesd @ginswife @amypull @vivianalovesmatt @st4niolos @sturnioloobessed @sturnlova @bigbeefybitch @minhyucks @iheart-zegras @vicsguitarr @melonjollyranche @hearts4matty @vickyzloserz @user8000000 @xoxo4chrisss @unfilteredassmf @mattsbiggesthoe @chrisstopherfilmed @st3rniolo @goldengrapejuice @luv2matt @vsangel-starbies @mikaelabutterfield @mattnchrisworld @bluesturniolo333 @wurlibydominicfike @kp07on @hayleyreadsblog

in no universe did you expect to be pining after one of your best friends.

it had always been strictly platonic between you and matt, aside from a little harmless flirting over the years. you loved him and his brothers so much that you never wanted to mess anything up, or complicate things when the dynamic was already perfect.

but as much as you’re close with each of them, you know you’ve always understood matt on a deeper level. you share the same goals, the same fears, even the same taste in music and movies.

he’s always been the first person to check in, the only one who can read your mood like the back of his hand, the guy who cheers you up and lets you cry on his shoulder when things are shitty.

despite these sweet gestures, you’ve both had your fair share of relationships and flings while being best friends. none of them have ever bothered you before, and you’ve always tried to be respectful and kind to whichever girl he picks.

that is, until now.

matt is sitting across from you on the couch in their living room, slight frown etched on his face. his girlfriend, maya, has her legs sprawled across his lap comfortably, arms linked like she’s claiming him.

her eyes are practically locked on you. you don’t blame her; she’s well aware that you’re not her biggest fan.

all she does is complain about all of the things she doesn’t like about matt. last time she hung out with you guys, she was bitching about the fact that he kissed her in public at a party, as if she was worried he was scaring off other guys.

when he buys her flowers, they’re the wrong ones. if he takes her to dinner, she whines about the food. she’ll even criticize his clothes, demanding that they match and he hides the tattoos. to her, he can’t do anything right, even though he’s incredible just the way he is.

so it drives you absolutely insane watching the way she walks all over matt, all over his brothers, even you. it’s been two months of this agony, and you can’t believe it’s even lasted this long.

you spend nearly every day thinking about how much better you could treat him. every time he touches you, no matter how briefly, your skin burns in desire. it’s selfish to want someone who’s taken, and you’re well aware of that.

but you just love matt, you know him. and he deserves better. maybe it’s you, maybe it’s not. but it’s certainly not maya.

“give it to me, fuckhead.” chris’s voice rips you out of your trance, and you snap your head toward the middle of the U-shaped sofa.

he’s currently fighting nick for the remote, who slaps the side of his arm rather hard. chris lets go, only to pull his brother into a headlock seconds later. nick lets out a yelp of surprise, jamming an elbow into his side to get him to stop.

in all the commotion, you decide to grab the remote for yourself, a wide smile settling across your features as you take it into your palm.

they both notice quickly, groaning in protest as you wave it at them tauntingly.

“too slow! now i get to pick, idiots.” you tease.

“c’mon, i just went to war for that thing.” nick complains, kicking your leg half-heartedly, but you just shake your head.

“snooze you lose.”

you scroll through your options, trying to pay no mind to the way maya is whispering to matt for so long she could be reciting the bible. then your eyes land on a title that makes you pause, chuckling a little to yourself.

“oh no way, they have fucking cocaine bear on here?” chris cackles.

nick looks rather amused himself, raising his eyebrows like he’s intrigued. “i mean, i’m game.”

you glance over at matt, who’s already looking at you with a grin on his face. he mentioned the movie to you a little while ago, and how he just had to see how stupid it was eventually.

“why would we waste our time watching this shit? isn’t it supposed to be awful?” maya chimes from beside him, and your gaze narrows in on her.

“it’ll be funny, you know, ‘cause it’s so bad.” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she tilts her head to the side slightly, studying you with disapproving eyes. “yeah, i’m not so sure about trusting your taste. i mean, that god-awful outfit is just one example.”

the air seems to be sucked out of the room as you grip your sweats self-consciously. nobody moves, nobody speaks. you feel the anger flare up in your veins as you look at matt, wondering if he’s going to step in like he should.

but he doesn’t. in fact, he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. so you square your shoulders and turn your focus back to the girl you dislike so much. you’re done with the passive aggressive comments, with all of the bullshit glares and insults.

you’re done letting her bulldoze you. if matt wants to go through that, fine. but he doesn’t have to take everyone down with him by subjecting them to maya’s presence.

“well, you seem to be the only one who has a problem with my taste, so maybe you should just leave.” you say calmly, smiling sarcastically at the end because you can’t help it.

her mouth pops open, and you can hear chris and nick trying to stifle their gasps and chuckles. even the corner of matt’s lips turn up, which makes you wonder.

maya turns to look at her boyfriend, completely astonished. “are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”

he seems conflicted as he briefly looks your direction, clearing his throat to buy some time. you tilt an eyebrow, crossing your arms like you’re just waiting for him to pick his side.

she may have asked the question, but now you’re dying to know the answer.

“maya is right. and, uh, i think you should apologize.” matt fumbles with his words, unable to speak to you directly.

you feel the fury work its way up your face, and you force yourself to blink away the burning sensation of frustrated tears. maya looks far too satisfied, and you want to slap the smirk off of her face.

but you know you can’t lay hands on her, so you decide your words will have to be your knives.

“you know what, i am sorry,” you begin, raising your hands in surrender.

they’re both a bit surprised by this change in direction, so after a brief pause, you continue.

“i’m really sorry that you’re dating a stuck up bitch. i’m sorry that she’s constantly taking advantage of your kindness. i’m sorry that she treats you like shit, that she talks down to you like you’re a child, that she’s never satisfied with the things you do. and i’m especially sorry that you continue to let her, because you can do so much better.”

if maya’s eyeballs could pop out of her skull, you would imagine it would be exactly like how she looks right now. matt is also slack jawed beside her, and you can’t be near him any longer.

so you stand up, turning to leave the boy you love so much without another word.

the fresh night air of spring is a relief once you step out the front door, and you try to let it calm you as you hustle toward your car. you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket as you move, presumably nick and chris.

you hope they’re not angry. it’s bad enough knowing that you’ve royally fucked things up with matt, but you couldn’t bare it if all three of them hated you.

you practically toss yourself into the drivers seat, slamming the door closed with a force that shakes the entire vehicle. you’re peeling out of the driveway before you can even reflect on the consequences of your actions, speeding home as if your life depended on it.

your ringtone continues to erupt as you drive along the backroads, but you force yourself to ignore it for the time being.

only once you throw the car into park in your own driveway do you check the messages, scrolling through the numerous notifications. unsurprisingly most of them are from nick and chris like you presumed, wondering if you’re alright and applauding you for finally standing up to the wicked witch of the west.

for a brief moment, their kind words make you feel better.

but then your eyes catch a contact that you actually don’t expect; matt’s. you stare at your device, throat going completely dry. a missed call and two texts.

matt

i’m coming over

don’t bother saying no, im already on my way

that was five minutes ago, which means he’s not too far behind you. you tear out of your car and across the yard, throwing the door open carelessly.

your heart is still slamming against your ribcage, and fear crawls up your throat as you press your back to the wood, kicking your flip flops off in the general direction of the coat rack.

your mind flashes to the idea of him yelling at you, which you suppose would be somewhat warranted. you’ve seen matt angry on a couple of occasions, and you can’t imagine he has anything kind to say to you right now.

you pace the foyer as you wait for his arrival, picking at the beds of your fingernails anxiously.

and then it happens; the loud knock on the front door, followed by another series of harsh slams.

impatient motherfucker.

you straighten up as your palm wraps around the knob, sucking in a breath before pulling it open to reveal a rather disheveled matt.

he’s breathing heavy, hair messy as if he’s been tugging at it for the entire drive. his earrings glint in the porch light as he stares at you like he’s trying to commit every feature to memory, wetting his lips hungrily.

“matt—”

you barely get his name out before he wraps his ring-clad fingers around your throat, pulling your mouth to his harshly. he molds against you perfectly, his other hand traveling to your hip to hold you flush against his own body.

he just couldn’t help it. he was so desperate on the entire ride over, replaying your outburst on a loop in his mind as he drove further and further away from his girlfriend. there’s been only a few occasions he’s seen you that upset, and your comments had been a necessary slap in the face.

plus, watching you fight for him when he was too much of a bitch to do it himself was a bigger turn-on than he’d like to admit.

all he’s ever wanted is you. and it shouldn’t have taken this long to admit it to himself.

matt guides you backwards, hand still squeezing your neck as he blindly kicks the door shut with one foot. you feel your back bump against the kitchen counter, and you’re trying to register what the hell is going on, but his kiss is so fucking intoxicating that it’s impossible to think clearly.

his tongue slides against yours passionately, and the flavored chapstick you’re wearing is driving him insane. you can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he toys with the elastic waistband of your pants suggestively.

you have no idea if this means it’s officially over with him and maya, but you find that you quite frankly don’t give a shit.

in this moment, he’s yours.

his fingers finally dip into your sweats a few seconds later, traveling down to brush against your clothed heat as he moves his mouth to your jaw sloppily. a breathy moan escapes before you can stop it, involuntarily rutting your hips against his cold rings in search of more friction.

one of your hands goes to grip the hair at the nape of his neck while the other claws at his back, desperately wrapping your knuckle around the cloth of his muscle tee.

“you like that?” matt grumbles against your throat, nipping at the skin as he begins to apply real pressure to your cunt in little circular motions.

your back arches and you tilt your head to the side so you can give him full access, silently hoping he’ll leave a mark behind.

“you’ve been thinking about me touching you like this, haven’t you? wishing i would come fuck you instead of her?” he questions further, moving his head slightly so he’s speaking directly into your ear.

the hand that was choking you slides down so he can grope your chest, his thumb running over one of your hardened nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing. the combined pleasure has you whining in his grasp, a submissive sound that you wish you weren’t making.

you can feel him grinning as he presses his mouth to that sweet spot below your earlobe, his tongue darting out to wet the area.

“you want me just as much.” you manage to find your voice, though your claim is muttered with no conviction.

matt pauses his movements and brings both hands to your waistband again, which makes you whimper as you clench around nothing. his mouth finds yours briefly to swallow the sound, and he bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away.

“you’re not wrong. so are you gonna give me what i want, baby?” he asks as he teases your sweats and panties just a little lower on your hips.

“keep going.” you plead.

you let go of your grip on his body so he can tug both items down to your ankles, helping you step out of their grasp before discarding them a couple feet away.

matt doesn’t immediately stand back up; instead he takes his time, kissing the side of your knees as his hands slide up the outside of your thighs. you feel so exposed, so on-display that you clench your legs together before you can help it.

he immediately pries them apart, shaking his head slightly with a little smirk. “don’t be shy now, you had so much to say earlier.”

his words spur you on, so you spread yourself wider, opting to grip the counter as he reattaches his lips to your inner thighs. matt inches closer and closer to where you really need him, taking his time to nip at the supple flesh that comes before.

he pulls away right when you think he’s finally about to put his mouth on you, letting his hot breath fan across your soaked center. it makes you shiver in anticipation, and you’re getting a little too needy now.

“quit fucking teas—oh shit.”

you throw your head back as his two fingers spread you apart, tongue coming in contact with the middle of your cunt as he laps at the wetness that had pooled there.

he slows his pace slightly after a moment, making sure to pay attention to the whole area, working his way up until his nose bumps against your clit. you spit a curse out, letting one hand go so you can grip his soft hair.

matt continues on, his lips closing around the sensitive bud so he can apply more pressure and suction. your gut flips at the sensation and your grip on his roots tightens as his mouth works.

he grumbles, loving the way you’re pulling at him so desperately. the noise sends vibrations through your core, which only makes the experience more enjoyable.

“fuckkk, matt, feels so good.” you praise dumbly, your words slurring.

the vocal admiration makes his pulse quicken, and at this point he’s straining against his jeans. he just can’t believe he’s got you like this, grinding your cunt against his face as if he’s the best you’ve ever had.

he can tell you’re growing closer just based on the little gasps and moans leaving your mouth, and your legs begin to shake ever so slightly. but he won’t let you finish just yet.

“want to be inside this pretty pussy.” he pulls away to say it, pressing one more wet kiss to the delicate area before he gets up.

you’re craving more, so you decide to take initiative, reaching for his belt and fumbling to undo the buckle. you tear it from the loops and toss it away, moving to his zipper as he reaches behind his head to tug his loose tank off.

his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his tented boxers. he’s quick to kick his shoes off, followed by his jeans right after.

then his hands go to your waist, fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

“up.” he instructs bluntly, helping lift you onto the end of the marbled countertop so he’s standing between your legs.

he lifts your shirt up next, and you help him out by throwing your arms above your head so he can fully remove it. his eyes train downwards, admiring the way your sheer bra hugs your tits. it hardly leaves anything to the imagination, and matt finds it extremely hot that you’ve been wearing it all night without him knowing.

before he can make a move, you surprise him by reaching back confidently to unhook the garment yourself. you let it slip from your shoulders before throwing it to your side, revealing your bare chest to him wordlessly.

he pulls his lip between his teeth as he exhales, gently guiding you downwards so your back is pressed flat against the cool surface. matt looks intimidating standing over you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” he says in awe, leaning down to give you another real kiss, a salty mix of sweat and arousal on his lips.

then he finds his way down to your collarbone, staying there shortly before traveling between the valley of your breasts. without warning, he presses his tongue flat across one nipple, flicking it back and forth.

you push your chest further into his face with a moan, both hands in his hair this time. he moves to the other perky bud, sucking on it as his teeth graze the tissue ever so slightly.

you’re practically writhing underneath him, and you can feel the pit growing in your stomach again. so even though it feels incredible, you yank his head back off of your chest by his hair.

“need you to fuck me.” you mutter, pushing his hair out of his face with both of your hands.

matt nods once, straightening so he can slide his underwear down. his erection finally springs free, pink tip glistening with precum. you watch as he spreads the wetness around, pumping himself in his hand a few times.

he’s bigger than you expected, and your mouth is watering just thinking about how much you want him to be pounding into you already.

“wrap your legs around me princess.” he commands gruffly, and you do just as you’re told, hooking your ankles behind his back.

his dick presses against your heat, and you buck against it to try and feel more. matt is quick to steady your hips roughly, holding you down against the edge of the counter as he teases himself into your entrance.

you both moan, his low and rumbling, yours high-pitched and greedy. you use your thighs to pull him closer, forcing him to drive into you fully so you can feel that pleasurable stretch.

“mmmn—fuck, you’re so tight.” he sighs, giving you another moment before he begins to drag his cock in and out at a steady pace.

you rock with him as best you can, finding the perfect rhythm so that he’s plowing his full length into you, filling the house with the sound of skin slapping skin.

matt lets one hand wrap around your neck again to choke you, tattoos on display as his muscles flex, and the pressure traps your lewd cries in your throat. his other fingers continue to toy with your nipples, which makes you arch off the counter, head rolled back as your eyes screw shut.

“look at you, taking me like such a good girl. just like i knew you would.” he compliments breathlessly.

he starts snapping his hips harder, enjoying the way your tits bounce as you slide slightly against the slick counter. you look so fucking beautiful, mouth partially open, barely able to squeak out a moan.

never in a million years did matt think he’d get the opportunity to fulfill all of his shamefully dirty fantasies about you, but here you are, completely naked and spread out in your own kitchen.

you’re squeezing around him now with every stroke, and he somehow keeps getting deeper, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you jerk.

the familiar feeling of your abs tightening occurs as you get closer to your orgasm, and you swear you’re seeing stars at this point. he’s right there with you, a groaning mess as your fingers reach up to dig into his bicep.

“yes, matt, right there! m’gonna—” you fumble over your words, unable to finish the thought as the satisfaction builds.

he uses the last of his strength to drill into you, moving both hands back to your waist quickly so he can slam you down on his cock a few more times.

“come all over this dick baby, don’t hold back.”

you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your high, releasing all over him as his hot cum spills into you at the same time.

he slows his movements as you look up at him with bleary eyes, enjoying the last moments of being inside you before he pulls out. you feel your mixed arousal dripping out onto the counter, and you don’t even care that you’ll have to clean it up later.

that was completely worth the mess.

your chest continues to heave as you relish in the come down, dropping your thighs from his hips so he’s free to move around.

but matt stays between them, leaning down to capture your mouth with his one final time. it’s brief, but it means more than either of you truly understand.

he’s the one to break it first, pressing his forehead against yours before he speaks. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you smile weakly, pushing against his chest to put some distance between the two of you. reality is creeping back in, reminding you that this was probably a one time thing.

“help me down?” you ask, and he complies.

matt lifts you a bit as you slide off the countertop, setting you back on real ground a second later. you’re not sure what to say as you stand before him, completely fucked out and terrified of whatever is coming next.

“so, um…i should probably get cleaned up.” you try to sound casual, even though you’re feeling anything but relaxed.

he immediately notices the switch in tone, the way you’re wrapping your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shrink away and hide. he’s also pretty sure he knows where this insecurity is coming from.

his fingers go to grip your chin gently, demanding that you look him in the face. your eyes widen as he brushes his thumb along your swollen bottom lip.

“i’m cutting things off with maya. i just…love you. and i’m sorry it took me so long.” matt finally admits.

it takes a second to click in your brain, but when it does a wide grin spreads across your face. butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you kiss the pad of his finger as he moves it along your mouth.

“i love you too, but i think you knew that already.” you tease playfully.

“yeah, maybe. but i like hearing you say it out loud.”

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #Spotify #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic

896 notes · View notes

starkeymeow · 9 months ago

Text

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): just swearing, jealousy, rafe being a bitch again

authors note: making this into a whole series so we get that progression !! let me know if u wanna be tagged for every chapter i make <3

one | two | three

you knock on the door and wait for an answer. you don’t really know where rafe hangs out on campus, if he even hangs out on campus. you already checked the library, which was a rafe no-show, and then you took every possible long route to get to his dorm just in case he would be walking around.

after his dorm, you don’t know what else you’re going to check if he’s not here.

the door opens, revealing an olive-skinned boy that must’ve been his roommate. you recognize him as a student you’ve seen around campus before. lorenzo, his name, was it?

he smiles as soon as he sees you, and he looks around to see if it’s only you there.

“yeah?”

“is rafe here?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers as you peek through the crack between lorenzo and the doorframe to see if rafe’s on his bed or anything.

“no he’s not, but he usually comes back around this time. you can come in and wait if you wanna,” he offers, and you nod, whispering a ‘thank you’ as you step past him. “is he in trouble?” he asks, going to shut the door. “are you a hookup? cause i think you should know . . . rafe doesn’t get particularly attached to one-nighters. sorry. if he said something mid-nut it’s just a guy thing. well just a him thing.”

you shake your head. “ew, god no i’m not a one night stand of his,” you tell him. “do girls actually come here to talk about it?”

lorenzo shrugs and nods. “usually. it always apparently ends in round two though!” he says like it’s a joke since he’s laughing. like actually laughing. but when he sees that you’re not doing the same, he falters awkwardly and claps his hands. “sorry i don’t mean to . . . i’m just gonna . . .”

you watch as he goes to his desk in silence, and it almost makes you laugh aloud. you only smile as you look down at your feet.

“i’m y/n by the way,” you inform him. “i live down the hall.”

“oh that’s cool. i’m lorenzo.”

you nod, pursing your lips as you look around.

“you’re a lacrosse player?” you ask after a bit of silence and just a lot of keyboard clicking. lorenzo continues typing from his computer and just hums in response. you admire the singular trophy on his shelf, as well as the crosse stick in the corner of the room. you must’ve either missed that before or lorenzo must’ve been at practice when you were tutoring rafe, cause that wasn’t there at all last time. “i like the trophy.”

“that was just for my senior year but my mom insisted i bring it, make a collection for all the ones i’ll win here too, if any,” he says, and you can hear the smile as he talks. it makes you smile too. “she’s my biggest fan.”

“your mom is sweet, and she’s a good thinker,” you say. “i hear the school’s lacrosse team has been doing really good this year. maybe that shelf is gonna be accompanied by another trophy sometime.”

“you’re into sports?”

“not necessarily,” you hesitate, finding yourself laughing with him. “i’m just . . . i do journalism here so i just keep up with everything. my friends cover the sports column. they talk a lot of good about you guys.”

lorenzo spins around in his chair to look at you. “i’ll give it a read sometime,” he tells you, and you smile and nod at him. “so what are you here to see rafe for?“ he asks, setting his hands on his thighs.

it’s like you wake up from reality and remember that you’re there for a reason. “oh right. i’m just here to talk about his grades,” you say, and lorenzo’s face slightly lights up as he lets out an ‘ohh’. “yeah he did really good on his exam the other day so i just wanted to tell him good job.”

“good friend you are,” he mumbles, standing up to check something on rafe’s desk. he grabs an edge of the calendar above the desk, reading it to himself and then flipping the page up and down just to see. “yeah he should only have his doctors appointment planned today but thats in like a few hours. he’s usually done with class by now.”

“i can just text him maybe,” you say, even though you know you don’t have his number. “i live down the hall but if it’s okay—”

“you can wait here, y/n,” lorenzo insists.

you smile and nod again, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ to him for letting you in his space while he’s clearly been in the middle of schoolwork.

lorenzo is reading through rafe’s calendar when he snorts. “‘tortilla chip day’ on the 24th apparently,” lorenzo reads off. “‘grilled cheese day’ in august. was he fucking hungry when writing these? he has these pre-written.”

you can’t help but laugh and take a peek at what else rafe’s put on his calendar.

the door opens, alerting both you and lorenzo. at first the person is surprised to find both a girl and his roommate, laughing together about something probably stupid. only it’s not just some girl. it’s you. and it’s not just a person. you see it’s rafe.

he recognizes you immediately from behind lorenzo. he can pick you from a crowd. he stands at the door with his hand on his backpack strap, staring at the two of you. “y/n,” he says, under his breath. “what’s so funny?”

“there you are,” you say, your arms crossed as you look at him. “i’ve been trying to find you for the past fucking hour.”

“i’ve been with my professor to talk about my grades, thanks,” he hisses as he walks inside to toss his bag on his bed, looking at you, “are you done hitting on my roommate now? you found me.”

you grimace at him, “what?”

“gee,” lorenzo mutter awkwardly as he hesitates to take his laptop with him and just go outside in the floors lounging area to give to you two some space. “it was nice meeting you, y/n,” he says, and you nod before he steps outside and closes the door behind him.

you look at rafe.

he shakes his head and waves his hand once, telling you not to worry about it. “whatever, just . . . get out?” he says, motioning over to the door. “i have to study for this friday’s exam too.”

you forget how much of a complete ass he is. god, it’s like he hasn’t changed since you were last in here. “‘kay,” you say dryly, and go to leave. “came here for nothing then. look, just remember who got you that ‘A’ and saved you from failing humanities in the first place.”

he pauses when he realizes you knew his score already. “what?” he says.

“that’s why i was trying to find you, asshole,” you tell him, opening his door and looking back. “i asked your professor what you got and he told me you almost would’ve gotten full points if you didn’t fuck up at the end. i was gonna congratulate you anyway.”

rafe stares at you in silence.

“and get a new tutor next time.”

he’s silent as he watches you go, and he blinks when the door is slammed behind you. he looks down at his backpack, then at his desk where he remembered he had to sit at for-fucking-ever to study and prepare for the exam with you.

“fuck,” he whispers, contemplating whether or not he should chase after you to apologize or just yell it down the hallway. but he knows you two aren’t close enough for him to show that kind of behavior, especially not after already embarrassing himself last week with the socks and water bottle donations.

but then again, you put everything aside, rivalry and all just to tell him good job because you know he’s been failing. this whole frenemies thing is the worst.

when you walk down the hall and reach your dorm, you can spot lorenzo seated at one of the chairs in the lounge. you consider going over to apologize that he had to see that, but a voice stops you in your tracks.

“y/n.” it’s rafe.

you quickly try to unlock your door and go inside, but he catches you before you can.

“stop,” he says.

“you stop. go study or something,” you tell him, struggling to unlock your door.

“you’re acting like a kid.”

you look up at him like he’s insane. “you can’t tell me i’m acting like a kid when you were just doing your big one a second ago,” you tell him, and you feel the lock become undone. “unfortunately that’s not how it works. excuse me.”

you let yourself into your dorm and close the door on him, leaving him standing there in silence. rafe looks over to the end of the hallway where the lounge is, spotting lorenzo who’s peeking around the side of the chair he’s on. rafe shakes his head.

it’s been another week since you last spoke with rafe, a few days since you’ve spoken to him. or since he tried speaking to you really. you were on your way back to your dorm again when he caught you, then tried to apologize. you ignored him until you went inside your room.

it all just feels pretty pointless to you. you and him have been going at each other for years. it doesn’t help that you guys get to see each other every day because you committed to the same university, or that your dorms are just doors away from the others. if anything it makes it all worse.

and just recently you helped each other for a day, making it feel like there’s been progression in this whole thing, but you were wrong. and instead of arguing, you just feel like it would be better if you guys don’t talk at all.

a straw is between your teeth as you carry your book under your armpit while trying to grab one of those cardboard things that hold your drink in case the cup itself is too hot and cold. you’re a journalism major but fuck, you have no idea what they’re called.

as you look up, you grab some napkins and head for the door. you’re in immediately alert mode when you can see rafe and his friends getting out of their car in the parking lot. here we go again.

you make your way over to your car that’s parked right outside the coffee shop to make it easier for you, and you unlock the door before getting in.

hearing the laughs from rafe and his friends don’t make you panic. you just set your coffee down in a cup holder after putting the straw in and taking a few sips of your drink, appreciating the flavor.

you lowkey stay in your car to watch what rafe and his friends are up to. they pass your car and reach the shop, letting themselves in before approaching the front counter. one friend is in the front to order, assuming for everyone, while the rest just surround him and check out the treats of the day.

you watch closely when rafe starts stretching. he’s mid conversation with one of them, just grinning as his friend talks his ear off about something apparently really funny. after the one ordering for them is done, he turns to the rest of the group and points to the tables behind them.

rafe looks around the shop for where to sit down, but his gaze land on all the cars out front while the boys decide on where to wait for their drinks. he finally looks at you. here it comes.

but for some reason . . . it doesn’t.

there’s not even a hint of emotion in his face when he sees you’re there. not even to question if you’d been watching him that whole time, or how long you’ve been sitting in your car. he just falls silent and follows his friends over to a table, sitting down and engaging in conversation like normal.

you feel a little upset when it’s the opposite treatment, but you know that’s unfair. you started this whole silent treatment a week ago and you’ve stuck by it. it’s only fair if rafe decides he’s going to do the same.

you put the car in reverse to leave the lot, but you can’t stop thinking about how rafe reacted when he saw you. or rather, how he didn’t react.

but whatever. you decide to push it aside. if you find out that rafe has a new tutor too then you won’t be surprised. if anything you’ll feel relieved because that means you won’t have to spend any more time with him. that the only reason why you’ll ever step foot back in that dorm will be because of lorenzo, not rafe. because that’s what you want. that’s what you want.

. . . right?

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

(okay wtf its not letting me tag someone else)

438 notes · View notes

dollygale · 5 months ago

Text

now what does the average piltover citizen think is happening in arcane. civically speaking. you have 7 council members (a seemingly life-long, non-elected position) and then one of them decides to court pack with her fwb, the in-world equivalent of thomas edison (a few years after the same council almost banished him) and then weeks after his historic appointment, the same guy ousts the immortal founder of your country with absolutely no political pushback from the public (despite the fact that he might have been on this council since its inception?) but ig this evens things out back to 7 seats. your founder disappears and is never seen again btw.

then three of your council members die in a terrorist attack and there is no attempt made to fill their seats. 3 of the remaining council members vote 2-1 to start a war on the city’s most impoverished citizens without the 4th living council member, who morally opposed the invasion. a council members’ mom shows up to incite violence and her daughter is actively trying to get her to leave. despite not even being a resident, this general from another country names a deceased council members’ daughter the New Military Dictator. (unclear why she didn’t just assume her mother’s seat on the council because it’s an inherited position but ig the sheriff was a more important position to fill??) and again no opposition from the general public as she starts gassing citizens. then one council member kills the other with a big hammer but who knows if this is ever reported because then nicola tesla jesus shows up with an army to fight a war on your soil with 1 million robots.

then edison and tesla disappear into a big ball of light, meaning only 2 of your og council members are still alive and at this point it has taken months to get back to a functioning government. imagine being a city employee during all that. who do you even ask to sign your checks. i just know the bathroom of the local newspaper office is swimming in like. steampunk cocaine

#arcane #arcane spoilers #jayce talis #viktor arcane #what does he not have a last name #that’s so sad. i’m NOT calling him viktor league of legends he means 2 much 2 me #mel medarda #jayvik

338 notes · View notes

ceruark · 2 months ago

Text

still here

[yan! sunday x gn! reader] synopsis: you’ve been waiting for the day you’d finally be free from your captor. but fate has other plans, as you keep reliving the moment of his departure. words: 5,320 cw: yandere themes: mentions of previous manipulation, abduction, obsessive & possessive behavior; implied alcoholism, brief mention of murder/stabbing a/n: i’ve had this on backlog for MONTHS i’m so glad it’s finally done. i hope it’s okay and u guys like it <3

It’s true what they say about there being light at the end of a dark, seemingly endless tunnel; when the Astral Express finally departs, it does so in a blaze, washing the dock by The Reverie in a brilliant glow and momentarily blinding you. Once your vision clears up, it’s nothing but a star shooting across the vast sky, leaving behind a warmth that lifts the weight of the world off your shoulders.

At least, that’s how it felt the first time.

You’re not sure how many times you’ve seen it leave, at this point— you lost count a while ago. There were a few times you decided to not even show up at the dock, to see if it changed anything, but to your dismay, you woke up in your apartment in Golden Hour every single time, your alarm clock blaring at seven in the morning and the calendar reading that same, dreaded day.

December 3rd.

You realized after the fifth time that you were, in no uncertain terms, stuck in a time loop. The universe seems to revel in your suffering, and it finds particular hilarity in you repeatedly having to see Sunday “for the last time.” It doesn’t matter what you change— the day always resets. You’ve seen him off with the sweet disposition you learned long ago to keep up in public spaces, and you’ve cursed him out, screamed at him, and hit him.

But none of it worked. Nothing has changed.

You sigh as Siobhan swipes your empty glass off the table and replaces it with a full one. She nods at you sympathetically, eyes gleaming with pity. In the years following your abduction, you became a regular at the Dreamjolt Holstery whenever Sunday was out on business. You drank yourself to the bottom of bottles, chasing some kind of reprieve in a place where you could actually breathe. Siobhan was always sweet to you and never ratted you out. Gallagher had been good company as well, chasing out Oak Family representatives whenever they came poking around. You miss him, at times.

You take a slow sip of your wine. The finest chardonnay Penacony has to offer slips down your throat, and a pang rips through you as it does. You had shared a bottle with Sunday on your second date, back when you believed him to be a much different man than he proved to be.

You push the glass across the table and fold your arms on top of it, laying your head down and resting your cheek against it. Your eyes blearily scan the bar, drinking in the happy couples with some bitter cocktail of desolation and envy. You watch them, the way they so tenderly hold each other and exchange whispers and sweet kisses— no fronts or guards up— and you lament it all. You curse Xipe’s name and spit on Ena’s memory for the umpteenth time. Perhaps your blasphemy is so plentiful at this point that it stands out against the countless prayers reaching the sky from Penacony’s citizens, a hideous smudge on what should be a flawless record of blind admiration.

But you never were very good at falling in line.

Movement startles you out of your stupor. You lift your head and watch as a woman donning a large black hat and draped in the finest clothing money can buy settles into the booth across from you.

You clench your jaw tightly. Lady Bonajade, the soul who so graciously saved Sunday from everything he deserves.

She meets your poisonous glare with a sickly sweet smile. “Such bitterness on what should be a joyous occasion,” she drawls. She takes the abandoned wine glass into her hand and takes a sip. “What’s the matter, darling?”

You flick your gaze back to the bar where Siobhan is wiping down the counter. “It’s not really any of your business,” you respond evenly. You know better than to entertain her. She won’t give you anything useful, anyway.

She didn’t the last time you talked to her about your predicament.

She laughs. “So distrusting, though I suppose I can’t blame you for being a product of your environment.” Your heated glare fixes on her again, and she smiles, pleased with herself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you seem sad to see him go.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know better,” you mutter.

She hums, then lifts the glass again. She takes long sips of the wine as she scrolls idly through her phone, presumably waiting for you to crack and spill your guts.

Perhaps you would keep your wits about you under any other circumstances. Jade’s presence does not come without an ulterior motive, and anything she offers you will certainly not come free. Speaking with her means risking being trapped under someone else’s thumb when you’ve only been free from Sunday’s for a few months.

But is there any real harm in confiding in her if she won’t even remember this?

“You won’t believe me,” you say, in a voice barely above a whisper.

A small smile crosses her lips as she sets her phone down. She meets your eyes, her gaze deceptively warm. “Try me.”

You stare at the polished surface of the table for a long moment, failing to find strength in the disheveled reflection that stares back at you. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

Jade doesn’t say anything. When you look up at her, her gaze is much sharper, but there’s clear interest in it. She gestures for you to continue.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve lived this day. No matter what I do, I wake up and it’s the third of December.” You clench your hands into fists, and they tremble where they rest on the table. “I’ve watched him leave countless times now. I’ve been kind to him when he leaves, I’ve slapped him in front of the Express crew, I’ve straight up refused to show up and I’ve left Penacony altogether. I’ve—”

You choke on your words, remembering the sound of horrified shrieks and golden eyes gleaming with horror and heartbreak. The feeling of sinking the blade into his chest and getting his blood on your hands had been as sickening as it was liberating.

“I’ve killed him,” you whisper. “But he didn’t— he’s still here. Every day. I can’t get rid of him.” A pathetic, weak laugh leaves you as you bury your face in your hands. “Even now, I can’t get rid of him.”

Silence descends over the booth. The idle chatter and occasional laughter of other patrons breaks up the tension in the air between you and Jade. The only sign that she’s even still at the table with you is the sound of her nails clinking against the side of the wine glass as she ponders your words.

“Let’s say, for discussion’s sake, that I do believe you.” You look up, meeting her cool, calculated gaze. “Do you have any theories as to why you are stuck in a time loop?”

You frown. “If we go off cliche, I’m making a wrong decision somewhere.”

Jade nods. “Agreed. Something far bigger than us in a place beyond humanity isn’t happy with you.”

You rest your cheek against your palm. “Any suggestions? I’m all out of ideas.”

She hums. “Why don’t we start by going over what you haven’t tried? You’re—”

“A clever little thing, given my previous circumstances.” Jade’s eyes go a bit wide at your sudden interruption, completing her sentence for her. Feeling inordinately exhausted, you sigh. “We’ve had this conversation before.” You lower your gaze. “When you convinced me to kill him.”

Jade goes back to tapping the glass again. You glare at her. Maybe if she’d just let Sunday face the music and be executed like the little lamb Gopher Wood intended for him to be, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe you’d be back in the Dreamflux, enjoying a quaint, more secluded life.

“Killing him did not work.”

“No,” you murmur, “it didn’t.”

“Well, then the answer seems quite clear to me.” She tilts her head to the side, causing the light to glint off her earrings. “But you may not like it very much, darling.”

Desperate, you say, “Shoot.”

The corner of her lips pull up, and she presses a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. She stares at you expectantly.

You pull your lips back in a snarl. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

She lifts the glass one last time to her grinning lips, and polishes off the wine. “Clever little thing,” she says in sing-song.

White-hot rage burns in your veins, and red flashes behind your eyes. Too used to your actions no longer having consequences, you slam your hands onto the table, startling the patrons around you.

Jade doesn’t so much as flinch.

“This is all your fault.” You thrust a damning finger in her face, your frustration mounting and your voice cracking in odd places. “You should have let him die. He deserved to. He deserved to— if not for what he did to Penacony, for what he did to me.”

“How sad you feel that way.” Her calm response stokes the flames burning up what little remains of your heart. “His sister would have missed him dearly.”

A sardonic laugh tears at your throat. “I could care less about Robin. What has she ever done for me?” You grin, wild and anguished. “Maybe if he died, then she would feel even a fraction of the despair I felt everyday trapped in that damn labyrinth he called our home!”

“You’re very focused on his death, when it’s already proven to be something that won’t work out for you very well.”

“If you hadn’t interfered,” you whisper, very slowly, “I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe instead, it would be me making a grand getaway with the Astral Express.”

A smile crawls over her face, cold and cruel and serpent-like. She leans forward ever so slightly, her hat casting shadows over the eyes that pin you to your seat.

“There’s your answer.”

Your heart plummets. Her words are ice-cold water down your back, raising every hair on your body and sending your heart stuttering. Time slows down and everything stills, the idle chatter of the bar nothing more than white noise in your ears as you stare into the maw of the predator, the one that allowed yours to live.

The word falls from your lips, a single, broken syllable. “No.”

“Going with him is the only thing you haven’t tried.”

“Why—” Something tight coils in your throat, and you choke on it, a sob finding its way out of your throat. “Why would that be the answer?”

Why should he still be allowed to have you, after everything?

Jade’s smile softens out around the edges. If you didn’t know any better, you would say she looks almost sympathetic. “Perhaps he has not fallen from grace with the Harmony as much as he believes he has.”

Your nails pierce through the skin of your palm. You bite down on your lip until you taste blood.

“He is a boy favored by aeons,” Jade says mournfully. “It is a choice that has never been in your hands.”

Letting out a shuddering gasp, you shoot up from the table and bolt out of the bar. Patrons exclaim around you as you shoulder past them, hardly holding yourself together from breaking down right there in the bar. Somewhere behind you, Siobhan calls out for you, but you ignore her and break out into a frenzied sprint.

Your legs burn as you run, your instincts taking over your mind which has gone numb. They carry you through the secluded alleys of Golden Hour, over fences and past guards and through thorn bushes until you finally reach your destination.

Finding your way into the room you had once shared with Sunday isn’t difficult. The twisted hallways of Dewlight Pavilion have long since been burned into your memory, and you easily reach the bedroom before various Oak Family guards can reach you.

You lock the door behind you and push yourself off the wall just as people begin pounding loudly on the door and shouting. Navigating the room in a daze, you reach the nightstand on Sunday’s side of the bed and open the drawer.

The matches he would use to light prayer candles have gone untouched.

Matches in hand, you march into the bathroom and open the cabinet. Ripping the isopropyl alcohol off the shelf, you untwist the cap with your teeth and spit it out onto the pristine tile floor. Walking back into the room, you douse the bed in the bottle’s contents, saving just a bit to leave a trail from the bed to the bedroom window.

You set the empty bottle down on your vanity. Fingertips ghosting over the surface, you pause when they meet the familiar grooves of a small jewelry box Robin had brought you from her previous tour. You open it, staring down at it in disdain as the music box attached to it plays a lullaby from your childhood— yet another cherished memory tainted by the siblings. Your eyes roam the contents of the box, taking note of the empty space amongst your collection of rings.

You shut the lid, lock it, then hurl it at the window.

The clamoring guards outside the room get louder at the sound of shattering glass. Wasting no time, you rush toward the window and sling both legs over the ledge, your back now facing the room.

Turning around, you strike a match, and drop it onto the edge of the alcohol trail.

In a singular second, the fire catches and spreads, until the canopy bed is engulfed in flames.

A sob escapes your throat, then a laugh, then a strange combination of both. The sounds mesh together and rack your body until you’re nothing more than a hysterical mess sitting above broken glass, watching the room that haunts your nightmares burn to the ground.

A yell sounds behind you. “There’s the culprit!”

A tranquilizer dart reserved for Penacony’s worst pierces your arm, and then you collapse to the floor.

Your eyes fly open at the sound of a cheery Clockie theme song blaring through your room. Your arm shoots out from beneath your comforter and slams the snooze button, silencing the chipper voice. Slowly, you turn to look at your left arm.

There’s no pinprick of a dart on it, not a single blemish in sight.

You bury your face into your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs, allowing yourself to sob one last time. Then, you resign yourself to your fate.

You go through the motions as though you haven’t been out of practice for even a single day. You take a long, warm shower, warming the water to the point of scalding and lathering your skin until it’s red and raw. You bathe yourself with a lavender soap— his favorite scent on you.

Wrapped in only a towel, you walk into your room and approach your closet. Taking a deep breath, you kneel down and reach in the far back, grabbing onto a box and pulling it toward you.

You grimace as you pull the flaps open. Inside sits the few objects gifted to you by Sunday that you decided to save when The Family permitted you to enter Dewlight Pavilion one last time, following his arrest. Gingerly, your fingers ghost over the soft silk of a baby blue shirt. You take the shirt and unfold it, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when your gaze falls on the small object that had been tucked away into the fabric.

A sapphire gemstone carved into an oval sits on top of an ornate silver band, encased on both sides by smaller diamonds.

You slip your wedding ring onto your finger, choking back a sob as you do.

You set the silk shirt aside and stuff the box’s remaining contents into a duffel bag which you also pack with the belongings that are too important to leave abandoned in a place you’re likely to never return to. You put the silk shirt on, pairing it with a flowy pair of pants and shoes that compliment it well. You clasp a simple yet rather expensive necklace around your throat. Then, you sling the duffel bag over your shoulder and head toward your apartment’s front door.

You shut it behind you without looking back.

Every step taken toward The Reverie is one filled with dread. Your legs are as heavy as your heart, every fiber of your being working to weigh you down and ask you to resist just one last time. Certainly, there must be another way, another method you haven’t tried yet.

You do not pray to Xipe. You do not pray to a god that has forsaken you in the name of gifting their favorite child everything his heart desires. You do not pray to a god who only rebuked him when his actions affected the masses— if your cries of suffering were not enough for them to take action then, then your cries would certainly not be enough now.

All you can do is hold onto a thin string of hope within your heart that when the day draws to a close, you will wake up in your bedroom once more.

The automatic doors of the dock hiss open as you approach, revealing the scene you’ve lived countless times before. Miss Himeko stands with Mr. Yang by the entrance, going over final clearances with one of The Reverie’s hosts. Closer to the Express’s entrance, March and Stelle rifle through a large bag filled with souvenirs, arguing over which of their friends from other planets will receive which gift. Dan Heng is somewhere inside the train with the most wanted man in Penacony.

Swallowing your grief, you approach the crew’s eldest members with a pleasant smile plastered onto your face.

“Pardon the intrusion, but do you perhaps have space for one more?”

Miss Himeko and Mr. Yang turn around, the former appearing a bit more surprised to see you than the latter. She eyes you with concern, her lips pursing into a thin line as her gaze lands on the bag you’ve brought with you, and the brilliant ring sitting on the hand that holds the duffle bag’s strap.

“Ah, you—” Mr. Yang shoots a quick glance at the host, who has already moved on to tending to other vehicles departing the dock. He looks back at you with a smile. “You must be Sunday’s partner.”

You nod. “I spoke with Jade recently. I was hoping that I could join you on your travels, for the time being.” You reach down to fidget with your ring, feigning heartache. “I hope it’s not too much trouble— and that you understand.”

Mr. Yang looks over your shoulder and meets Miss Himeko’s gaze. The two share a silent conversation, one that makes you more nervous with each passing second.

There is nothing anyone can prove, but you know that Jade is aware your marriage wasn’t a happy one, even if she doesn’t know the specifics. You also know that she has shared plenty of conversations with Miss Himeko, ones that may have explored more intimate details of Sunday’s life under the guise of assessing if he should be allowed to roam the galaxy beyond Penacony’s prison. If she turns you away now, it would be yet another method of breaking the time loop that you wouldn’t be able to test.

“We have no problem accepting another passenger, and we have plenty of space to accommodate you, of course.” Mr. Yang places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “But I must ask you: are you sure this is what you want?”

You’re not sure of what you want. You haven’t been sure of what you want since you woke up in Dewlight Pavilion that fateful night, dazed and confused with Sunday at your side, apologizing profusely but insisting it was for the best.

What you want has never been your choice, and perhaps it never would be.

“I appreciate the concern, but I have had plenty of time to think about this. I feel that being with my husband is the best path forward for me right now.” You give Mr. Yang a strained yet reassuring smile. “And if I change my mind, I’d be happy to get off and have a fresh start somewhere far from here.”

Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko share one last look, then the latter turns to you with a warm smile.

“We’d be happy to have you join us. The more the merrier, as they say.” She places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Mr. Yang disappears into the train as Miss Himeko pulls you slightly closer to her.

“And if you need anything,” she whispers, “do not hesitate to let me know.”

You take in a shuddering breath, struggling to keep your perfect facade together as she pulls away from you.

“Stelle! March!” The two girls turn toward Miss Himeko as she approaches the entrance. “I need you two to clear out whatever we have stored in the guest room. We’re leaving with one more head than expected.”

The two peek around Miss Himeko, eyes lighting up with curiosity as they spot you.

“Oh! Are you Mr. Sun— er, our new passenger’s spouse?” March beams at you, looking a bit bashful at her near slip-up. “You’re so cute!”

“Ah, thank you.” You bow your head in a polite gesture. “I’m very grateful Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko have decided to let me join you all. I hope it’s not a problem for the rest of you.”

“Of course not!” March jests cheerily, “Who are we to stand in the path of true love?”

You smile at her and say nothing.

“Well then,” Miss Himeko says, saving you from needing to entertain March’s comment, “it’s about time we get going. We have a few minor stops we’d like to make before Amphoreus, but we also don’t want to hold up Miss Black Swan more than we already have.”

“Right!” March skips up the steps to the lobby car, followed by Stelle, then you and Miss Himeko. “I can’t wait to go back to Belobog! I bought this cute origami bird plushie that I think Bronya will love.”

In the lobby, a man who bears a striking resemblance to Stelle lays sprawled out on one of the couches, watching Dan Heng fiddle with something on a holographic display. A bunny dressed in a conductor’s uniform shouts about dinner plans, and a woman donning a dark veil watches you board the train with a knowing look that makes your skin crawl.

You turn to Miss Himeko, avoiding the mysterious lady’s stare. “Where can I put my things?”

“Ah, right this way,” she says, guiding you toward the ascending staircase at the back of the car. The next car over is a long hallway of doors. She leads you to the very end of it and produces a keycard from her jacket pocket. She taps it against the door and it slides open, revealing a simple room furnished with a bed, desk, and dresser. She turns to you and hands you the keycard.

“Here’s where you’ll be staying. Feel free to change it however you see fit.”

“Thank you, Miss Himeko.” You dip your head again. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

“Oh, please, there’s no need to be so formal. Just Himeko is fine, and we’re happy to have you.” Her smile falters a bit as she takes a step back and gestures to a door across the hall and a few doors down from yours. “He’s staying in that room, if you wish to speak with him. If you’re not ready, though, take as much time as you need.”

“Of course.” You step into the room they’ve assigned to you, setting your duffle bag on the floor. As you hear her footsteps retreating, you allow your face to fall and your body to slump against the bed, burying your face in your hands.

You stay like that, long after the door makes a clicking sound and slides shut.

You miss dinner, settling for chewing your nails down to nubs as a source of protein instead.

Surely, he must know that you’re here. You figure Mr. Yang mentioned it to him when he disappeared after you confirmed your wishes to board the train, and certainly March would have brought it up over dinner.

He knows of your presence, but he has yet to approach you.

It puts you on edge. What could he possibly be scheming this time? Certainly, after his sudden fall from grace, he’d be pouncing at the opportunity to regain some semblance of control over something so familiar— at least, that’s what you figured before boarding the train, the very thing that left you hesitant to entertain Jade’s suggestion.

You pace around your room well into the night, working your legs tired from walking to and fro in such a cramped space for nearly two hours. When it proves to be a futile effort to quell your anxieties or wear you down into a sleepier state, you huff and grab the key to your room off the barren desk and shove it into your pocket.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s making you come to him. He’s always made you do that when he feels you’ve done something wrong, and your refusal to stand with him at the recreation of the dream was likely an egregious misstep in his eyes.

The door to your room hisses open. You step out into the hallway, darkened now that the lights have been dimmed to the lowest setting. You drag your feet as you walk, prolonging your journey as you gather the last of your courage and try to figure out what you’ll say— whether you’ll face him with all the rage boiling beneath your skin, or with the perfectly crafted mask you’d grown so used to wearing before the events of the Charmony Festival.

You raise your hand— curled into a fist— and let it hover in the air in front of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, you will your heart to slow in your chest, then you rap lightly against the door.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. They spill into each other, and the lack of response has you considering fleeing to your room when the sound of a latch releasing knocks you out of your stupor. The door hisses open, and golden eyes pierce into your own.

Sunday meets your eyes with all the burning intensity as the day he first told you he loves you. He blinks rapidly a few times, long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he does. His gaze slowly drags up and down your figure, taking you in, almost in disbelief. When he settles on meeting your gaze again, he murmurs your name lightly into the space between you two, the sweet call of it dousing the flames that have been burning since his arrest and leaving you so, so cold.

Your throat constricts. You’d forgotten how small he makes you feel— not because he’s cruel, but because his love for you is so tangible and pure despite everything he’s done.

“Sunday,” you whisper back, mournfully.

His gloved fingers twitch where they rest by his side, yet he does not reach for you. “Not that I’m displeased to see you, my love,” he asks, “but what are you doing here?”

The truth sounds as insane as it makes you feel, so you lie. “I wanted to check on you.”

Something softens in his gaze, and you feel your veins flood with disgust— whether it’s at the fact that he’s so desperate for your affection that he readily believes you, or because it’s so easy for him to break down the walls of hatred you’ve built up, you refuse to determine.

You grit your teeth, trying to dredge up some of your fury from earlier. “Don’t be misled,” you mutter, “I’m not here to pretend like everything’s fine.” You cross your arms over your chest, facing him again with a more guarded look. “If you’re traveling with the Express as a means to make up for what you’ve done, then—” You suck in a sharp breath. “Then someone you’ve wronged should be here to see if you’re really changing.”

You avert your gaze. The silence grows thick between you two, the seconds blending into long, agonizing minutes.

“I see,” he finally says, and you look back up at him. There’s something pinched in his gaze— something a bit pained— yet he manages to look relieved. “If that’s the case, then I’m glad it’s you.” His next words come as a shock to you, causing your eyes to go wide and rendering you speechless. “I understand I have much to make for. Not just to Penacony, but to you, particularly, my dear.”

As you fall quiet, he steps toward you and delicately takes your fingers into his grasp. He brings them up to his lips and kisses the end of each one before speaking again. “I would like to earn the right to your love again,” he mumbles against them. “If you’ll allow me.”

Within you, your hatred and fondness for Sunday wage a war with each other, fighting to gain the upper hand. You shouldn’t allow him— you should have never been forced into a position where you would even have to entertain such a notion. You’ve lived this day so many times, and all it’s done is remind you of who put you in the situation, who dragged you down from the heavens with him. Each relived day left your fury festering like an open wound, as desperate for reprieve from the loop as you’d been desperate for your freedom, at a time.

And yet, there’s another part of you that was forgotten in the midst of the chaos of the time loop, one that is hopelessly enamored with him and endlessly forgiving. You will never agree with his methods or his actions, but despite everything, you still understand his viewpoint and how it drove him to this point. The hardest part about loving Sunday is knowing that every shred of pain he may cause is inflicted with only the best intentions, each wound carved into you with a tender touch and healed through a devotion that runs so deep it leaves you dizzy.

You curl your fingertips into his hold and pull yourself toward him, crossing the threshold and stumbling into his room. You crash into him and bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold yourself there. He lets out a shuddering exhale at the contact. One of his hands settles at the small of your back, and the other comes up to cradle the back of your head and gently stroke your hair.

“You better make up for all of it,” you say, voice wet with unshed tears. “You better make it worth my while.”

He hums, and you can feel it reverberate through his chest. “Of course, dove,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Nothing but the best for you.”

The next morning, you wake to the sound of the train’s low buzzing as it shoots through the cosmos. There is no alarm clock, no barren apartment walls, no calendar pinned beside your desk. There is only the feeling of Sunday’s feathers against your skin from where his face is pressed into your neck, his arms around your waist.

You let out a soft sob, then will yourself back to sleep.

#this might be the longest thing ive written for this blog #sunday my eternal muse #i will never stop loving him #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #hsr x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x you #ceru.writes #ceru.yan

213 notes · View notes

jillsandwhichs · 10 months ago

Text

Crazy girl, even crazier husband

Chapter 3 to RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: Your husband and you go to the movie theatre to watch a new horror movie but this man just can't keep his hands off of you

Status of your guy's relationship in this oneshot: Married

WC: 6.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Zoowee mama there are so many, Making out, Fingering, Tongue licking, P in V, Sorta public sex ?? , No protection, Biting, He fucks you hard in an employee storage room so enjoy :p

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Window's rolled down, music on low, his hand on your thick thigh, your husband was driving you two to the move theatre in town. They were hosting some new random horror movie and the both of you thought it looked interesting, the idea to go on a date and watch it together randomly came up in a conversation last night. He's often times working so going out like this is rare, but whenever it happens, you absolutely cherish it, and so does he.

You could feel his fingers playing with the end of your skirt, occasionally gripping your thigh, his hand even leaving a mark. This is what he'd always do whenever he was driving and you were with him, he'd get you all riled up, all soaked up, and it's tortuous. The way his hand would slide up beneath your skirt was so painful, not literally, but he never even touched you, that made it painful. And half of the time, he doesn't even end up fucking you til way later or he doesn't at all. Such a man sometimes.

He wouldn't even acknowledge how horny you are either, he just knows, he loves making you feel all good inside just you leave you with nothing.

"We're almost there, by the way." You said softly, gazing out the window at the scenery outside. "Good to know, baby, thank you." Leon responded, his fingers trailing up her skirt again, just to simply not do shit. "Jesus Christ." You whispered underneath your breath, praying he wouldn't hear over the music. He was playing some song by Seether, it's all he ever listens to. You swear you know every song and every lyric by heart. Same with Hinder. This man and his early 2000s rock music, you swear.

The view on the way there was pleasant though. Mostly stores and other useless buildings but aside from that, you could spot tall & wide mountains in the distance. They're all able to be hiked too, you and Leon have done it before but in the summer heat, hell no. Luckily, it's autumn, no need to worry about that. Other than the mountains, the sky was gorgeous. That deep orange tint on the horizon was beautiful, it suited the night perfectly.

"What is this movie called again?" "It's called Smile, I don't know, looked creepy as hell." You spoke. "Yeah, yeah, the trailer was fucked." Leon snickered, one hand on the wheel still. "How much cash did you bring?" "Well, I brought my card, so a shit ton." Leon chuckled, "Using me for my money still, I see how it is." "What? You think there was another reason I married you?" You bit your lip, clearly, you were joking. He dug his nails into your thigh, causing your breath shutter. "Be quiet." He hummed, his teasing tone was deadly.

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, he never fails to make you laugh. His humor is great, that's something you two bonded over immediately when you first met. You reminisce on that day often. Ever since, your life has been ultimately changed for the better. Leon was genuinely the light at the end of the tunnel for you, hopefully he feels the same way about you.

Just up a few more blocks was the movie theatre. This one is rather large, it was built more recently too. Only four years ago and it's held up well. When it was first built, you and Leon were still dating, now you're married, time flies by so quickly. The both of you have also been there a couple times before, about four times, each time was so nice. Leon really knows how to treat you. Every single date he takes you out on is special in it's on way. He's a miracle worker.

"Just up here." You whispered out, putting your phone in your little white purse that of course, Leon bought for you. He wasn't a poor man, rather wealthy. You don't know all too much about his job, he'd rather save the details, but from what you do know, he's a federal agent whose under the President, now that's saying something. And it all works out amazingly considering his love language is to spoil you with gifts, dates, travels, etc.. He truly never lets up on spending money on you.

"I know sweetheart." He leered, holding your thigh much more lightly now, his grip more gentle. "I'm praying they have sour patch kids." You snickered, Leon hummed at your comment. He's well aware it's your favorite candy... He's definitely spent hundreds on it. "Figured you'd say that." He snorted, pulling into the theatre parking lot. Surprisingly, it wasn't too packed. To your mental math, there was only ten or eleven vehicles, then again, it was a work night.

"Here we go." Leon grunted at he parked, taking the keys out of the ignition. "Grab my wallet for me, will ya doll?" "Yes babe." You replied, grabbing his wallet as you opened your car side door. Leon got out directly after, walking over to you. "Come here." He held his hand out. You handed him his wallet then grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it as you walked beside him. He was extremely tall, much taller than you. You were under 5'7, he was 6'2, you rather enjoyed the difference.

That instant hit of popcorn was glorious, it smelt like you'd just entered heaven. There was no one else in the lobby besides you and him, and obviously the workers. Not only did it smell so good, the decor was so retro, you loved the style of it. "I always forget how nice this place looks." You said in awe, loving the late '80s feel. "It is pretty." Leon huffed out before pulling his wallet out, "Go pick out whatever you'd like while I get out tickets." Your husband said deeply, pulling his card out.

You smirked at his words. You grabbed his arm and stood up your tippy toes to get to his ear, "Ask for popcorn please." You were sort of shy, you didn't wanna ask the employee yourself, plus you don't even have money to buy it, so. "I will, go on now." Leon chuckled as he then began to speak to the worker. You nodded, letting go of him and walking on over to the candy stand, they had a lot. But of course, your heart desired the sour patch kids the most, you grabbed them with haste.

You know Leon loves peanut M&Ms, he's always snacking on them, you grabbed a single pack of them for him as well. There was also some warheads in singular packaging, you grabbed ten, five for you and five for him, sour candy is your all time fav. You turned around, gazing over at Leon as he paid for you guy's tickets and the popcorn, you were excited for it. You were a foodie at heart, you could eat, and eat, and eat and never ever get tired of it. That's most likely why 80% of the dates you two go on are dinner dates.

Ambling back to your husband, you handed him the candy, your eyes locking on his. "Good, thank you." He smiled down at you, placing the sweets on the counter. "Good girl for getting my M&Ms." He whispered in your heart, his deep voice making your insides twist up like a pretzel, which was ironic due to the fact there were some in the hot food bar. "Heheh." You giggled, locking your arm with his, waiting on the popcorn.

"Your total is 16.20$." The woman behind the counter stated. Leon swiped his card through the machine, signing his signature too to verify the purchase. You grabbed the popcorn and Leon took your guy's candy, sliding the tickets into his back pocket. "Make it quick doll." Leon said from behind you as you began to butter it up. You loved the salty & savory popcorn, you'd drench it in that tangy yellow butter, but there is a point where it's too much.

Leon set his hands on your waist from behind you, his rough thumbs caressing the little sliver of skin showing from your shirt. You were wearing a tight shirt paired with your skirt, it had been awhile since the two of you went out so you thought it was cute. Despite only little bits of your hips showing, he still showed you he loved it. His nails lightly tickled at your midriff, watching you as you fixed up the food for the two of you. "All done?" "Done." You mumbled, turning around, his hands not moving though.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead gently before he then simply pressed his forehead against yours, "You're my everything." He hushly spoke. You were honestly caught of guard but maybe he was just in a lovey dovey mood...? "Love you too." You leered, kissing his lips swiftly, not wanting the employees to feel awkward. "C'mon baby, you know that ain't no kiss." He then gripped your chin, his lips settling upon yours for what felt like an eternity. You felt his tounge briskly swipe against your glossy lips, he could definitely taste the cherry.

He didn't go any further than that, pulling away after a few more seconds, "Let's go." He snickered, slipping his hand down your back as he lead you to the room. "You're so fucking crazy." You smacked his abs through his shirt. "Sorry, I just love you, is that so bad?" He acted sort of oblivious. Once again, he's such a man. "It's sooo bad." You dragged out your wording in a sarcastic manner, earning a titter from him. Making Leon laugh isn't too much of an accomplishment, he'll laugh at cat videos on the web.

"Just through here." Leon pushed the door open. The lights were still on too, proving the movie hasn't begun yet, luckily. There was only a couple other people in there, about five, they were all at the front. "Let's get in the back." Leon stated, gripping your hand firmly, "Why?" "Because I said so, be good and listen." He teased. You felt arousal stream over you when he said that, gosh, he's so good. You climbed up the stairs behind him, your hand still interlocked with his as you did so.

You two sat just a couple rows away from the very back, wanting to at least have a decent view of the massive screen. Leon sat down, then you did. "Here baby." You murmured, pulling the two ice cold water bottles from your purse. "Smooth criminal." He joked, taking his and placing it in it's holder. "Their drinks are more than their popcorn, it's ridiculous." You spat out, setting the popcorn in his lap. "Always making me hold it." "Mhm." You giggled. He glared at you, making your heart beat fast. You knew he was playing around but for odd enough reasons, it turns you the hell on.

You took the sour patch kids bag, ripping it out and setting it on the side of your leg, having it tucked between you and the seat. You'd save your warheads for later. "You gonna eat your candy?" "Maybe later, the popcorn is just fine for now." Leon assured you, taking a couple pieces in his mouth. Understandable. You ate a few pieces of your candy, the taste of them was immaculate, it could never get old.

After ten minutes or so of previews, trailers and commercials, the movie finally began. The lights went dark, setting the mood immensely. You could hardly see Leon's attractive face. "Finally." You uttered beneath your breath, taking some popcorn from his lap and eating it. The buttery, salty taste was too good, you practically moaned while eating it. The title card came on screen, the eerie noise playing in the background really suited the film from what you've seen.

At first, Leon wasn't paying too much attention to you, his eyes glued to the screen, he seemed to be into the movie so far. You tried to be, but that desirable burning feeling deep inside you wasn't doing you any justice. You could feel yourself pulsing, the mere thought of him had your panties soaked. He hasn't even done anything to crazy either, that's how good he is. He's such a dick sometimes. You can't even think about it, it makes you want him more. He can a man be so alluring?

As you snacked on your candy, you nearly lost your breath as you felt his hand slither onto your thigh, just as it was in the car earlier. Each one of his fingers caused an electric wave to course through you. The way they'd slightly lift off of your skin as they squeezed it, it was too much. You could feel as his pinky glided underneath your skirt, seemingly getting closer with his entire hand. "Movie is good so far, yeah?" Leon whispered to you, his hand going fully beneath your skirt now. Curse this man.

You didn't even reply, your body just simply reacted to his advances. You spread your legs open as much as you could in the tight chair, which wasn't too much but Leon definitely liked what you did considering he tightly gripped it, gaining a soft whimper out of you. "Look at how you responsive you are..." He murmured, not even glancing at you, making himself seem like he was just casually watching the film. At this point, you could care less about the fucking movie. You wanted his cock inside you. But maybe... His fingers would have to suffice.

"Finger me." You panted, looking at him, desperation plastered on your beautiful face. Leon didn't listen to your pleas, his pinky finger rubbing over your wet panties. That wasn't good enough, it never would be. You wanted him inside you, you wanted him to feel how wet you were for him. "Look how wet I am baby." You muttered. "Mmm, I can feel princess." He grunted, his entire hand planting itself onto your cunt through your undergarments, you whimpered quietly, needing to keep the act up.

"Please..." You gripped his arm. Leon sighed heavily, his eyes leaving the screen, his eyes locking on yours as he gandered down your body, taking the sight in. "So needy." He teased you. "You gonna stay quiet?" "Yes, I promise, please." You begged of your husband, your eyes never leaving his. "Don't make a single noise." He huffed out deeply, his voice husky. He pulled your dripping panties to the side, his index finger gliding through your wetness, causing you to sigh softly, not making a noise though. "Mmm." You murmured, resting your head against his fit arm.

His index finger continues to pick up your wetness, you could hear him sigh once more, "Fuck." He muttered, the sound of your sopping cunt was so fucking good to him. His fingers made their way to your nub, beginning to rub it with ease, a surge of pleasure bursting in your tummy as he did this. He made small yet fast circles on your clit, earning some subtle noises out of you ; Luckily, he didn't hear, the movie was starting to up itself in volume, good for you two.

"Does that feel good?" Leon purred out to you, his eyes shooting over to gaze at you, his eyes in a trance as he watched your face contort just by his touch. "Mhm." You moaned out hushly, your arms wrapped around his fit arm. "Good girl." He whispered, his fingers slapping your clit as they then went back down your slit, your wetness was practically dripping down your ass and onto the seat, sorry to the worker who'll have to clean your mess up...

His finger went all the way down before he then stuck it inside of you, your tightness grasping around it. Leon chuckled at how tight you were, you never fail to amaze him. He pumped his finger in & out of you, so moderately. "Gotta stay silent, remember that." Leon teased you, his thumb going to your clit, now fingering & rubbing you. This two in one deal was going to be the end of you. "Jesus..." You whimpered, your teeth sinking into his arm, causing him to only thrust his finger into you faster.

Your wetness was louder now, each time his finger went back into you, it sounded like a lemon being squeezed. You love biting Leon, he loves it too. One thing Leon especially loves is when he's fucking you, he's right on top of you, making you lose your sense of reality then you just bite down on his bulk shoulder. Gosh, he loves when you do that to him. His entire finger was drenched in your fluids, it was shining due to the bright lights emitting from the ginormous screen projector.

"Keep it quiet sweetheart." He whispered, a light snicker playing off his tongue. He was such an ass. He knows you can't be silent for much longer. He's bringing you closer and closer and closer to the edge. You fear if he keeps going at this rate, you'll cum and scream his name, like always. "It's so- so hard." You stuttered, your nails digging into his forearm fiercely. "Oh, you can do it." Leon praised you, he knows you can't.

As his singular finger continued it's work, you clenched around him even more as he slid another one in, this time curling each finger with every pump. No one in the theatre had noticed, surprisingly. All of them were mindless souls indulged in the film. You also really wanted to watch the movie, but fuck this was so much more needed than to watch some stupid horror flick. His thumb continued to rub your nub, the most sensitive nerve causing your brain to lose track of itself and your stomach to do flips like it's a gymnast.

"Leon... Baby..." You panted out, your hair getting messy from how much you've been tossing and turning your head. He didn't reply. His face was staring directly in front of him, acting all innocent, no one would suspect a thing... Yet he was finger fucking you, making your pussy clench around his fingers more tightly than ever before. His thumb was stroking your clit with pace, he was relentless on it. It was as if he was trying to gain a rise out of you and knowing him, he definitely was.

"Seriously." You whined, pressing your forehead against his upper arm. This man was going to be the fucking death of you.

"What is it?" He calmly said, still not looking at you whatsoever. "Fingers aren't enough, fuck me, I don't care about the stupid movie anymore." You said with an seductive tone. "Fingers aren't enough, huh?" He chortled as he began to finger fuck you at light speed. You instantly closed your legs, stopping all of his movements. "Don't." You squeaked, removing his hand from between your legs. Leon giggled, his hand gripping ahold of your cheeks sternly as he forced you to look up at him.

"You need me to fuck you?" "Yes baby, please." You mooched off your husband. You needed him and you need him at this current moment in time. "Well, where do you want to be fucked? In here? Where anyone could possibly see? In the restroom? In the car-?" "Let's find somewhere, please." You stated loud and clear, fixing your panties and skirt. Leon get go of your face. "Mmm, lead the way gorgeous." He held your hand, following behind you now. It felt powerful to take charge, to tell him this is what you want.

You both jogged down the stairs but acted as normal as possible, acting as if Leon wasn't just feeding into your dirty needs. Pushing open the wooden doors, you looked around and only saw a bathroom and other doors leading to another theatre area. Leon gripped your hand tighter, trying to indicate something to you. You spun around, looking back at the door behind you. "That's an employees only room!" "I doubt anyone is in here, c'mon." Leon laughed quietly.

He wrapped his hand around the knob, twisting it and pushing the door open. All that was in there was a table, some random movie posters and a counter, probably a type of break room. "Dammit, come here." Leon expired, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. He lessened the space between the two of you as he smashed his needy lips against yours, his moving against yours in a passionate make-out.

Your arms went to his shoulders, holding onto them with care as you set your entire body against his. There was absolutely no stopping between kisses, it was constant. Heavy breathing and kisses were all that could be heard. Leon's hands went from your hips and down to your ass, gripping it hard as he licked your bottom lip, so badly wanting entry. You, of course, granted him exactly that. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed your ass, slapping it too, he tried to keep it down though. This is technically illegal, so...

As you two made out sexually, he pushed you up against the wall, his hands still beneath your skirt, going from playing with your rear and pussy repeatedly. You'd randomly feel his fingers against your clit for short periods of time. Your nails scratched into his shoulders, you were so into this. Your sense of relief was this. He knew what to do and how to do it to you. Leon's tongue swiped against yours, his practically engulfing yours. He loves doing this.

You slightly stuck your tongue out mid kiss, Leon immediately jumped at the opportunity. He swiped his tounge along yours so deliberately, the sensual texture of it causing your pussy to literally drip more than it was before. Leon then grabbed your chin, tilting it to get a better angle. His entire tongue licked yours, then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling. Your moved your hands from his face and down to his waist, holding onto his shirt for what felt like dear life.

After sucking on your tounge for a few seconds, he pulled away swiftly, pecking you once more and now kissing down your precise jawline. You tipped your head back, allowing him to gain more access. His kisses were so slow and gentle, he really took his time. His heavy breathing was so sexy, it showed how much he needed you. He truly yearned for your presence, your touch, your everything. "You smell amazing." Leon breathed in, giving the end of your jawline a quick nibble. You giggled, kissing his cheek before going back to the same position as before.

Leon smooched down your throat, relishing in your perfume and it's enticing smell. "Mmm, what scent babygirl?" "Honestly..." You began, "I don't fucking know." You chuckled, earning a snicker from him. He licked from the top of your neck and all the way down, leaving a strip of saliva just there. He kissed all along the strip, you couldn't help but whimper, each kiss and every lick was to die for. You couldn't get enough of him. Leon groaned, his hands holding your ass - He couldn't get enough of you.

Making his way down to the middle of your neck, his hot breath sat on that same spot for a few moments before you felt that painfully pleasing feeling of his teeth lightly sinking into your skin. "Fuck." You moaned, your nails sunk into his slim waist. You felt his tongue going erratic on your neck as he continued to bite you. "Leon..." You soughed out, tilting your head to the side even further, wanting him to leave more love bites on you.

Heading you call his name, he pulled away from your neck, he gave you a fast peck before pressing his forehead against yours. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Leon panted, his right hand on the side of your neck where he was just feasting upon you seconds ago. "You make me feel so good." "Yeah?" "Make me feel even better." You whispered, your arms now encasing around his neck, embracing him closely. "Oh babygirl." Leon sighed out, caressing your neck carefully. "I'll make you feel just fine."

Your husband turned around, scanning the room. "Lay down on that table." He snickered, stepping away from you. "Okay..." You giggled, walking over to it. You pulled yourself up onto it, sitting with your feet dangling off. "Lay back baby." Leon hummed out to you, his voice soft. You obliged, laying all the way on your back, your legs bent upwards on the table. You angled your head so you'd be able to watch him. He unbuttoned his black pants, allowing them to drop along with his underwear, revealing his hard cock.

You bit your lip with a giggle. You get so giddy seeing him this way, he's so sexy. "Don't look at me like that." Leon chuckled, placing both of his hands on each one of your knees. "I'll look at you however I'd like." "Oh? Is that so?" "Mhm." You cockily mumbled, placing your feet on his chest. Leon's large hands wrapped around your ankles, rubbing them lovingly as he stared you down. His eyes were lustful, darkness bursting in his iris's. "Look at you." Leon whispered, taking both of your socks off, setting them to the side. "What?" You sighed deeply, your cunt pulsing at his cooing tone.

Bringing one of your feet up to his face, he placed a kiss on the side of it, then on the other one. You weren't into all that feet stuff, neither was he, but Leon will and does kiss you absolutely everywhere. He set your feet back down. Leon's hands went towards your waist, holding onto it firmly as he quickly pulled you down the table, earning a surprised gasp from you. "A warning next time?" You scoffed. "No." Leon responded sternly, being playful with you, per usual.

His fingers trailed up to your panties, locking them into the waistband of them. "I'm so wet." "I know honey, so wet for me, hm?" Leon whispered seductively, never breaking eye contact with you as he pulled your cute white panties all the way off, taking them off of your ankles afterwards. You spread your legs widely for him, the entire view of your core at his service. It was like he was trying to make it not look obvious, but it was so clear he was gazing at you down there. "So beautiful." Leon complimented you, you were his wife after all.

Grabbing his erection, Leon jerked it a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you, only breaking it for a tiny bit to look down at himself. "You have me fucking pulsing." Leon grunted, wasting no time as he swiped his dick through your wetness. You moaned, staring up at him, his tip would stroke over your clit and make your center have an even bigger heartbeat, that's how it felt at least. "I love how I make you get." Leon continued. "All wet, needy, clingy... You're so pretty." Leon shared, kissing your knee again.

You nodded in reply, he was right, he does manage to make you feel all of those ways. "Yeah..." You muttered out.

Without zero warning, you felt him plunge into you with haste, his entire length being grasped around your warm heat. You felt your stomach twist and turn when he did this, it gained a whimper from you, a rowdy one. "Holy shit." You panted out, like a dog on a hot summer day. "Can't wait any longer." Leon cackled, his hands on your hips as he started his movements. Each thrust was life altering. It felt like you were in Heaven with what he was doing. His mouth was sort of open, you could hear his quiet gasps, you were making him feel a type of way too.

You held onto his wrists for stability as he fucked you, his thrusts were causing the entire table to shake, you didn't want it to break or something. "What if a worker hears us? Sees us?" "Well, they'll see a woman being fucked real good by her husband." Leon replied. Could he ever not be snarky? You rolled your eyes, looking to the side, your face contorting as you felt his member reach deeper inside of you. "Don't roll your eyes at me, doll." Leon stated, his hands still on your midriff.

You never looked back at him, your eyes were stained on the other side of the room. Not that you didn't wanna look at him, you just know it'll make you cum sooner, and even make him as well, and you really want to draw this out. His cock moved in and out of you repeatedly, he switched up the pace every other second. One moment he was fast & rough and the other he took it slow & deep. Both ways made your heart beat faster and faster each time.

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Leon groaned out, his left hand groping your tit through your shirt, squeezing it. You didn't answer, you couldn't, you knew if you tried speaking your speech would only be slurred. "Look at me." You didn't listen. You just held onto his arms with more strength, indicating you were going to lose yourself sooner or later.

Although, next thing you know, he stopped thrusting into you. This ticked you off but before you could get a damn word out, you felt the hand that was once on your breast, now pulling your face to face him. "I suggest you start listening." Leon brought himself down closer to you, his body over yours. You nodded your head leisurely, licking your lip, then biting it. His demands were music to your ears. His movements picked up again, but he forced you to look at him. Something about staring down at you as he made you feel certain ways was so convincing.

After a minute, he let go of your face, trusting you'll listen to him now. His hands rested on either side of your head, his dick still surging into your pretty pussy. You felt like there was an imaginary percentage bar of how long it'll take before your orgasm implodes on you, and with each pump, it fills that bar slowly yet surely. "Fucking hell you're so beautiful." Leon moaned, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, his breath could be felt there. "You're so handsome." You added, your hand going up to his hair, playing with it.

You had a feeling he was going to do it, but once he did, it made your core tighten even more than before. His teeth once again made their way into your neck, he bit down on it. "Leon..." You grunted out, your fingers flowing through his soft hair. His thrusts were more slow & deep now, as if he was getting tired or something. It was either that or he was trying savour this special time together. "I'm gonna cum soon." You admitted, your arms going around his head, holding him close to your body.

Leon didn't say a word, he just nibbled on your throat, kissing & licking it every so often. That sharp sting of his teeth was erotic, it made your stomach get closer and closer to granting you that ultimate pleasure - your climax. "Baby... Harder..." You begged, letting go of him and instead grasping the white table underneath you. Once more, hit nibbled your neck, then your slender shoulders, before his face pulled back, going to stare at you again. "Harder?" Leon questioned, his moments all the same. "Yes, please." You tittered, your body so heated up.

Your husband did what he does best - please you. He began to fuck you, it wasn't anything vanilla, no, this was hard. Each thrust was rougher and rougher. Your eyes looked up into his, you could feel that they were watery, you looked innocent, like a doe in front of headlights. Leon looked back at you, his eyes much different. They are loving, yes, but also sexual desire was all behind them, his eyebrows also added onto the darkness of his face. "Don't look at me like that." The man grunted, closing his eyes as he pumped into your tight center.

"No, no, look at me, Leon." You reached up, holding onto his face. Now it was his turn. Leon slowly opened his eyes again, much more coherent than you were earlier. "Yeah..." You murmured, your hands caressing his scruffy cheeks.

Coming onto you was your orgasm, your initial release. You could feel how close you were, each thrust only brought you more and more to the edge. With his dick twitching inside you, you knew he was close to cumming as well. Your stomach was providing you with that all familiar feeling - The feeling of ultimate pleasure. Each time he fucked into you, your breasts would bounce, now that he was going much harder, they didn't get a break. Both of Leon's hands held onto your tits, he continuously squeezed them, he was like a teenage boy with how he was about boobs.

Leon gandered back up from your breasts and back at you, he never realized you were still staring at him. This, oh, it sent him over the edge. Your water colored eyes were like a death trap for him ; In this case, a sexual trap. "Fuck, why do you do this to me..." He grunted as he pumped only a couple more times into your cunt, his seed filling you, you felt the warm liquid shoot inside. "Why would you look at me like that?" Leon moaned, moving into you with short, fast thrusts, wanting to get you finished too.

You didn't reply, instead you just pulled his face down to yours, pressing your lips to his. Leon breathed out against your face, kissing you back passionately. You held the back of his head & neck, relishing in this moment. "Oh I love you." You moaned. "I love you too babygirl." He grunted, his cock still deep inside of you. "Cum for me princess." Leon began, "Have your pussy tighten around me." He stated, his voice husk.

Your breath shuttered when he spoke like that. He was so hot, every word he spoke made you feel all sorts of ways. You couldn't help it, even though you wanted to. You kept your lips against his, your tongue intertwined with his as you suctioned his length inside of you. Your orgasm withdrew you from the real world, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head, surprised you couldn't see your own damn brain. "That's what I like to see." Leon paused his movements, just admiring his wife as she came all around him.

Both of you just sat there, your body felt super limp, you could feel his cock was soft inside of you. Everytime you guy's finish making love, it's like this. It's like the two of you are at a loss for words. You were still wet, you definitely needed to clean yourself up. You looked around the room, analyzing it. There was a paper towel dispenser by the sink on the other side of the room. "Could you please grab me some of that." You asked your husband. "Sure thing." He sighed gently, pulling out of you and heading over there.

Leon snatched up a few pieces of the towel, bringing it over to you. He didn't hand you them, instead he cleaned you up himself. You just watched him, heaving softly whilst doing so. He was a great husband. "Thank you baby." "Course doll." Leon replied kissing your inner thigh before helping you get back on your feet. "I'm not wearing these." You giggled, setting your panties aside. "Give them to me." He held his hand out. You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him your soaked underwear.

Your eyes widened as he sniffed them, the scent wearing off of them drove him crazy. As he pulled his own pants back up, he tucked your panties into his pocket. "Don't move around to much, I don't need your ass or pussy being flashed to the world." Leon chuckled, adjusting your shirt, you nodded in reply. He was right. "Let's go finish whatever time we have left of the movie." Leon whispered to you, his hand on your cheek firmly as he kissed you once more before the both of you made way back.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil smut #smutshot #smutshot collection #re vendetta #tumblr fyp

476 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

To Those Who Wait

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is intended as a one shot but you also know I'm easy to influence.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Happy birthday!” Vivica shoves the plastic teeth of the dollar store tiara into your hair.

You try not to glower as the rest of the table roars with laughter. It’s a happy night. You can’t spoil it just because you hate gimmicks. They mean well, you’re just a downer. Like always.

You force a smile, “thanks, guys.”

“Don’t thank us, it’s your night,” Jerrod chirps. “Which means you drink for free!”

Big whoop. You barely drink. You’ll have one or two for the occasion but you don’t like the way it makes your stomach feel. Ugh, stop being such a tight ass. It’s about you but it isn’t. They went to all this trouble planning the night. For you. Your friends. You can at least be thankful for them.

Yeah, you have friends but how much do they really know you? For as long as you’ve known them, they should know that this isn’t you. They are the ones that want to go out, that want to drink, that want to wade into the unpredictability of the general public. That’s not you.

“So, what are we having?” Mila asks.

“Hm, I don’t know. You know I’m not picky.” It all just tastes like alcohol.

“Ooh, cucumber gimlet. That sounds nice,” Jerrod says.

“Oh, it really does,” Vivica agrees.

“I’m going to try the gummy bear. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Mila says.

“Sure, I’ll try that,” you shrug.

Jerrod flags down a server and puts in the order. As he does, Vivica stirs around under the table. Mila claps as she reveals the gift bag from beneath.

“My favourite part,” Mila wiggles with excitement.

“Oh, you didn’t have to--”

“It’s only one part of our gift,” Jerrod laughs knowingly.

You give him a wary look. You don’t like his tone. You accept the gift bag and look inside. You can’t tell what it is. You pull out the tissue paper and a small box wiggles inside. Slowly, you slip it out and just as quickly shove it back in.

“That’s it. You wanna do it just like that,” Jerrod guffaws.

Your mouth drops open as you look around the table. The bright pink dildo has your cheeks on fire. You can’t believe they’d bring that out in public.

“What is wrong with you guys?”

“Oh, come on, everyone can use a good six inches or so,” Jerrod snickers. “That’s our backup gift. Our real gift is somewhere around here.”

“Huh?” You peek around the bar. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

“Oh, it’s a hunt,” Vivica juts out her chin. “You set the target and we’ll take him down for you.”

“What?” You scoff.

“Come on, honey, you’re thirty. You need to get one last hurrah in,” Jerrod insists. “When it’s my turn, I want three beefy boys. One in each flavour, blond, brunette, and even a redhead.”

“I’ll have the same,” Mila smirks.

You’re embarrassed. Uncertain two. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you. Out of the four of you, you’ve always been the boring one. The sober one. All these years, and you were the one saving them from regrettable drunken mistakes and making sure they don’t leave the bar with creeps. It wouldn’t be hard for them to guess, would it?

“Don’t worry, we’ll be your wingmen. Wingwomen. Wingfriends!” Vivica says. “How about him?” She points as the server lays out the drinks. “He’s cute. Oh, look at his eyes.”

“Wow,” Mila preens. “A bad boy. That would be adorable.”

You want to disappear. You want to dissolve into the cushioned bench. Become a part of it. Life as a piece of a furniture must surely be nicer.

“And his friends, not bad, huh?”

You’re speechless. It’s a joke. Even if they don’t mean it as one, it is. All these years and you’ve never been the one approached first. You’re the straggler. You get the odd one out and they get stuck with you. Maybe, all this time, your friends had been too self-absorbed or too drunk to notice that.

You don’t mean to be bitter. You shouldn’t be. It isn’t their fault you’re so lame. That you’ve gone another year without a single thing to be proud of. Without any change.

“Right, well, they look busy.”

“Booooo,” Vivica hovers her glass in front of her mouth. “Who wants to break the ice?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mila stands.

“Wait.” You blurt out but she ignores you.

Some birthday. You get to spend it awkwardly making small talk with another disinterested stranger. You try not to show your discomfort. You grab the skewer with gummy bears impaled on it and stir the vibrant red drink. You sip through the thin straw. It makes your cheek pinch painfully. The sugar will do worse to your stomach than the vodka.

You keep your head down as Mila’s fluttery giggle wafts over. Vivica giggles as she watches and Jerrod cranes to see. You stare at the table and distance yourself from the moment, detaching from your body as the bar hazes around you.

“Hey, you guys, come on,” Mila calls over, “lots of room.”

Her waving hand brings you back to the present. Vivica nudges you with her elbow as Jerrod jumps up. He grabs Mila’s drink and you shuffle along behind them. The group of men sit at one of the tall tables. They rearrange themselves and you stand back as the others claim their seats.

You climb up on the last, balancing your drink and the gift bag, unable to bring yourself to look at the men on either side of you. You fixate on your drink and taste it again, even as the sickly flavour curdles in your mouth. Your friends introduce themselves and you choke on your name before Mila says it for you.

The men take their turns. Your eyes dart around evasively. A sweltering heat forms a sheen across your face. The one with the frosted tips and glasses is Jensen, the broader brunette in the button-up and blazer is Nick, the biggest with his bushy beard is Sy, and the last one, beside you, with the buzz cut, is Curtis.

“Nice crown,” Jensen says. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reach up and take of the tiara. “Thanks.”

“You from here or visiting?” Jerrod asks the men.

“We work at Stacks.”

“Programmers?” Vivica snorts. “You might know my ex. Two of them actually.”

They laugh. You don’t know what’s funny. This is weird. You hate that invisible barrier between you and them, that makes you feel like you’re on a completely different planet. You don’t get this part of the script. The prologue is as far as you ever get.

“How old are you?” Curtis’ deep timbre startles you as it rolls beneath the chatter of the others. You shift in your seat and twist the glass around.

“Thirty,” you pick up the Tiara, the 3 and 0 nearly hidden by the feathers.

“Ah, the big one,” he comments.

“Yeah, just another year,” you put the plastic crown down.

“What do you do?”

You sniff and tap your fingers on the cup. You lift it and drain the last of the fruity juice and stringent vodka. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He asks.

“My friends are just being goofy. You don’t have to act like you’re into me.”

“Well, I’m not much of an actor. Never was into theatre,” he says. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Just trying to get to know you, figure that out.”

“Really,” you give him a sideways look. “Ah,” you hiss in false disappointment, “hate to break the seal but I gotta go the ladies. Excuse me.”

“Right,” he accepts dully. “How about I get you a refill, for your birthday?”

“You don’t have to but if you really want to, I could use a ginger ale. Thanks.” You accept as you climb off the stool.

You cross the bar and stop just at the threshold of the hallway that reads Girls and Boys above. You glance back. Mila has her charming smile on, Vivica is leaning into Sy, and Jerrod and Nick are watching something on his phone. Why can’t you be normal, like them?

You flinch as you catch Curtis’ eye. His eyes flick to you as he talks to the server. You quickly spin away. You’ll wait until the third round when they’re too tipsy to care. Then you’ll make your exit.

🍹

The hotel clerk hands you the key card. You don’t make eye contact. If you do, she might see right through you. You shove it in your pocket before the tremour is noticeable. You hurry away to the elevator and tap the button three times.

You’re not impatient because your eager. You just want to get this over with. Finally. It only took you thirty years.

The doors open and you step in, relieved that no one else gets on with you. When you’re shut in, you shudder. You’re disgusted. With this. With yourself. But you’re tired. You just want to pull of the bandage. You want to know what all the fuss is about so you can say you’re not missing out on anything.

Ever since your birthday, since that pathetic deja vu of going home alone, of your friends stealing the attention on what the claim was your night, you haven’t been able to stop those thought. You’re pathetic. A loser. No wonder it’s hasn’t happened yet. Who would want to touch you? They barely want to talk to you. They wouldn’t if you weren’t a leech on your friends’ ankles.

The doors open and jar you. You stagger then march out. You slide the card out and check the room number again. Your hands shake so bad it takes you five tries to get the green light.

Inside the room, the nausea swells in your stomach. Your teeth chatter. You go into the bathroom and put the bag on the counter. You dig out the anti-nausea medicine and read the insert; take one or two. Do not take with alcohol.

You pop the pink pill in your mouth and swallow. You look at your reflection. You look as scared as you feel. No time to waste, you’ve done enough of that.

You start with the shower. You wash every crook and crevice. You check your legs and under your arms. You only shaved yesterday night but you don’t need any pricklies. And your pelvis. You did a decent enough job trimming that down.

You get out and moisturise. You don’t want to smell. For once in your life, you don’t want to feel repugnant. You’re not some romantic. You thought of buying lingerie but that only seemed sadder. So you put on a pair of grey jersey pajamas, just a tank top and shorts.

You don’t want to look like this is a big deal. That you tried too hard. You do your hair and a little bit of makeup. Too much would just get messy anyway. Deodorant, perfume, and mouthwash. You’re as fresh as can be.

And anxious!

You take out the box of condoms. You don’t think the pills are working. You want to vomit, even though you haven’t eaten. You grab your phone and check the messages. Shoot, it’s a lot later than you thought.

‘Cashapp?’

Fuck, you forgot. You quickly flip over to your menu and sign in. You send the money and your chest drops. This is it. That’s a hefty wad of cash. You hope it’s worth it.

You reply to the text; ‘sent’ then the room number. There. Done deal. It’s going to happen. Then you can say, yeah, did it, no big deal.

You go into the suite and put your phone on the night table. You sit on the bed for a whole second before you bounce off. No, you can’t stay there. No, no, no. You pace and wring your hands as you wait.

The knock trips you up. You turn to stare at the door and like a horror movie, your eyes widen and your ears ring. He’s here.

You near the door and stop to look through the key hole. There’s a trickle of relief. He looks like the pictures her sent. That’s good.

You open the door a crack and look out. He looks annoyed as he checks his watch then tugs on the lapels of his jacket. It looks like a designer; the lining has little emblems on it. He says your name, “that’s you, right?”

“Hugh? Right?” You blink and he nods as he cheek ticks, “er, come in.”

You pull back the door and press yourself to the wall. He struts in and clicks his tongue in his cheek. He examines the room as he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the small bench against the wall. You close the door and he whistles. You face him as he tilts his head, looking you up and down.

“Smells good in here,” he grins and smooths his tidy hair.

Despite who and what he is, he’s handsome. Well, that probably helps. It’s why you paid half your savings for one night. You sway slightly then swallow down the despair. You’re doing it. You’re really going to do it.

A fucking prostitute. That’s as good as you can do.

“How about some music,” he approaches the speaker under the television, “think these things have bluetooth now.”

“Sure,” you croak, watching him as you cross your arms. It’s not too late. No, you don’t think you’ll get a refund now.

He takes out his phone and swipes around. He holds a button on the sound bar and it chimes. Soft R&B drawls from the speaker. You bite your thumb as you stare at him.

“So...” he looks at you.

You nod and clear your throat. You don’t know what to do. You don’t think the whole foreplay thing is going to happen.

He drags his hands down his cream sweater. He doesn’t really dress like an escort. Or maybe you just put too much trust in movies. He lifts the hem as you stay as you are. Your feet are glued to the floor.

He strips off the sweater and reveals a muscled torso and a thicket of dark hair across his chest. You don’t expect it as he sports a clean shave on his jaw. You clamp down on your arms as you keep them folded across your chest.

“Like what you see?” He winks and bites his lips.

He’s good. You almost believe him. If you weren’t missing a chunk from your bank account, you might.

“Come on, baby, why don’t you get some wine going,” he purrs.

A distraction. Thank god. You go to the bar fridge and take out one of the mini bottles of white wine. You peel off the foil over the cap but can’t break the seal. You struggle, trying to hide your effort, but sense him coming close.

“I just need to find some glass,” you say.

He chuckles and takes the bottle. His blue eyes devour you as he cracks the seal and flicks the cap away. He drinks directly from the bottle and smirks.

“No need. Go on,” he offers it up.

Your lips twitch and you take the bottle. You drink, nearly gagging. You swallow and hand it back. He swigs as he watches you.

He is so good looking. You wonder how he even got into this. He’s built like a god. No, a gladiator. You’re such a frigging dweeb.

“Hey, you don’t gotta be uptight,” he gives the wine back to you, “relax, enjoy the wine. You paid for the night. No hurry.”

You nod and drink again. It goes down easier. You return the bottle to him and he strides to the bed. He sits and pats the other side of the mattress.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

You quiver and lock your arms straight. You are conscious of every single part of you as you near him. You sit stiffly and stare ahead. The music drones as he gulps again. He bends forward to set the empty bottle on the floor.

You wince as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He traces the strap of your tank top and pulls you against him. You shiver as he brushes up your neck.

“This your first time?”

You twitch then make yourself nod. You wait for him to laugh. He doesn’t.

“Well, let’s go slow, then.”

“No,” you erupt. “I mean--” you grip your knees and steady yourself. “I want to just do it. Get it over with.” You grit your teeth and force a breath out your nose. “There’s condoms in the bathroom.”

Now he laughs. “Huh, you know what you want.”

You don’t reply. You can’t. That was the last of your courage or whatever you want to call it.

He goes into the bathroom and you list as he opens the box. He emerges and examines the square wrapper. It looks even smaller in his large hand. He rests his other on the top of his pants.

“How do you want it?” He asks.

You stare at him. How do you want it? You don’t know. You raise your brows helplessly.

“Wanna get naked?” He suggests.

You look at the bed. You blink long and hard. Your head feels fuzzy. Must be the wine.

“Right,” he sighs and undoes his zipper. You peek up long enough to see the top of his boxers. You back away and crawl up the bed.

You face away from him as you strip off your shirt, then your shorts. You jitter as you lay down flat like a plank. You stare at the ceiling as the wrapper crinkles. He groans as he comes closer to the bed.

“I like these ones,” he puts a knee on the bed.

Your breath is like thunder. You feel like your suffocating. He touches your leg and you squeak.

“Gonna have to open up, baby,” he pets your knee.

You let him drag your legs apart. You can’t do it yourself. You wipe your face with a shaky hand.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

Your eyes snap to him as something clicks. He holds a small bottle with a black label. He squirts the clear oil onto his fingers then reaches between your legs. You return your gaze to the ceiling before he makes contact.

He rubs the cool lube between your folds. Your thighs quake as he glides up and down. Over and over until the moisture is more than just from the bottle.

He tickles your entrance and you tense. He rasps as he circles around, “relax.” He pokes a finger into you and you clench. He wiggles it and hushes you as you whimper. “Look, you’re not gonna like it if you don’t chill.”

He sinks his finger further in then pulls it out again. You blow your breath out and suck it back in as he dips inside once more. You clasp the duvet beneath you as he fingers you rhythmically. Your pussy trembles around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he pushes a second finger into you. “You wanna be ready, huh? I mean... it’s your first time, you gotta be ready.”

The comment is like a slap across the face. Still, you can’t focus on his words. Your eyes feel fuzzy and your body is alight with a spectrum of tingles.

He rocks his hand and you lift your pelvis slightly. He presses his thumb against your clit and you gasp. The mix of pressure and motion is intense. You’re not completely clueless. That toy your friends gave you isn’t the only one you have, you just never used one inside of you.

You push your head down into the pillows and moan. He hums in approval and brushes his other hand up your stomach. He rolls his thumb around your nipple.

“Yeah, like that, relax,” he pushes deeper and you whine, little pouts coming as you dig your heels into the mattress. “Oh, my god, baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you?”

You squeal as you spasm. It’s not your first orgasm but it’s the best one you’ve ever had. It’s wild how different it is with someone, anyone, else. You shake as your voice unfurl and your cunt squelches around his fingers. He cooes at you as he eases you through your climax.

“Was that so bad?” He wiggles his fingers before he pulls them free. “Huh? Think you liked that.” He gets up on his knees and moves between your legs. He strokes his dick, swollen inside the rubber sheath. “Think you’ll like this a whole lot better.”

You lift your head dozily and stare at him. He’s big. Long and thick. That dildo was probably smaller than him and you left it in the package.

He moves closer and you let out a surprised chitter. He caresses your thigh and hushes you as he grips your hip. He pumps himself with his other hand and angles his tip along your lips.

“You said you wanted to get it done,” he pushes his blunt tip along your entrance. “Don’t hold your breath, baby.”

He pushes into you and you cry put. Oh. That’s not good. The blinding pain ripples through you. This is different too. Not like his fingers. He’s...

“Too big,” you rasp. “Please-- ah, ah, ah.”

“Come on, baby, you can take it,” he growls as he inches into you. “Once it’s in, it’ll feel better.” He impales you down to his base and snarls as he leans his head back. He rolls his shoulders and shudders. “Fuck, it’s been a while since I had a virgin cunt.”

Flames of humiliation lick at you. This man who fucks for a living is taking your virginity like it’s a prize. Another deposit in the bank. Why did you do this?

“Hugh,” you eke out his name and reach down, pressing your fingertips to his stomach. “I don’t want--”

He thrusts and you shriek. Your lips form and O as your head falls back down. You whimper as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your fingers furl into fists and your toes curl.

“Baby, you said you wanted this. You paid for it,” he grabs your wrists and moves your hands above your head, locking them there as he holds himself above you. “Ah, fuck.” He rams into you again and your tears spill over. “Ah, ah, ah,” he continues to thrust, “you are fucking tight. Ah.”

He closes his eyes as his nostrils flair and he groans, “the way you’re squeezing me--”

“Please,” you snivel and he snaps his pelvis into yours. You push your legs wider, trying to ease the pressure. “Ow. You’re hurt—ing me.”

“Argh, yes, oh,” he ruts into you harder and harder.

The springs of the bed bounce you against him as his pace turns furious. He puffs like an animal as his eyes blare down at you. You writhe and sob, your face wet with horror and humiliation. Your flesh claps together slickly as he raises himself only to drop down with all his weight. Again and again and again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, you hear that. Your first time and you got about to blow,” he sneers. “Tell me you want me to cum.”

You gurgle helplessly and he slams into you, “tell me.”

“Please--” You squeal. “Please just cum. Just...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grunts as he batters you.

“Please cum--”

He bucks wildly and lets out a bellowing roar. He pushes his head up and drones through his climax as he fucks you into the bed. You close your eyes and turn your head away. He slows as your heart pounds in your temples and your skin scalds. What did you do?

He lets go of your wrists and pulls out of you all at once. He leaves you splayed on the bed. His footfalls slap away to the bathroom and the faucet runs. You don’t dare move, hoping that if you don’t, this will all just turn out to be a nightmare.

🛏️

You touch your wrist and rip your hand away as if you’ve been burned. The bruises are tender. All of you is, but especially... that part of you.

You have a pillow under you as you sit on your couch. You can barely put your weight on your pelvis. Each time a pang strikes, you remember that horrible mistake. Now you can really say that it isn’t all it’s made out to be. It’s not worth it.

You lean on the armrest and stare at the television. You don’t see the faces or hear the words. Like the rest of the world, it’s now a fog. Like that night. The box for the pills said not to mix with alcohol.

You lean your head in your hand. You don’t want to think about it. That’s worse than what happened. The memory. That never ends.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. Vivica called several times. Jerrod once, and all Mila sent was some Tiktok you don’t care about.

The table continues to vibrate. It agitates you. You get up and stumble. You cup between your legs. You wear only a sleep shirt. You don’t want anything to chafe. You grab your phone and check the ID. Who the heck?

You answer, “hello?”

“Hi, is this...” the timbre asks. Do you know them.

“Uh, yeah, is this the pharmacy?”

There’s a silence, “uh, no, it’s Curtis.”

“Curtis,” you repeat.

“From the bar?” He says uncertainly.

You already know that. You just don’t believe it. You frown.

“How did you get my number?”

“Your friend. Viv. Sorry, I... I guess I shoulda asked you but you left so early.”

“Why?” You ask then cringe at your own stupidity.

“Why... because... I want to ask you out. I’m not good at beating around the bush, you know, but you don’t really give a guy a chance.”

“Asking me out?”

“Trying.”

You’re quiet again. It’s like sledge hammer shattering your reality. A couple days ago, you’d be giddy. Not it’s ironic. After what you did. Another laugh in the face.

“So, did I... just embarrass myself here or...” he huffs. You feel bad.

You never gave him a chance. You never gave yourself a chance. And now you spoiled it all. You can’t bring yourself to take out your self-hatred on him again. You can humour him for one date. Then you can say, at least, that you’ve done that too.

“Um, alright,” you agree, wishing it was happier, wishing that it could be different. You’ll have to figure out how to let him down easy. Although Mila says ghosting is even easier. “Sure.”

“Sure,” he echoes you. “Don’t sound so excited.”

“Ha, sorry,” you turn and rub your neck. “Yes. Let me know what works for you.”

“I can do that,” he sounds relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute.”

“Alright,” you hold back a scoff. “Thanks for calling, Curtis.”

“No, thank you.”

He hangs up and you turn the phone to silent. Your eyes sting as you lay it face down on the table and walk away. Things could have been so much different if you weren’t so damn stupid. He’ll figure that out and maybe you won’t have to be the one to break it off.

#ransom drysdale #curtis everett #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #knives out #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot?#one shot

173 notes · View notes