#I’m just minding my own business doing perfectly fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

virginreprise · 1 month ago

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✧ ˚ 　 · 　　 . B L U E M O O N ✩ M O T E L

jackson!joel miller x reader ✧˖ * °

✧. ┊ ⁭ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, edging, mean and soft joel, so basically joel, squirting, daddy kink, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, established relationship, just more of my depravity pretty much

✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° words: 3.9k

─── ⋆⋅. AO3 .⋅⋆ ──

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry.”

There’s a hand down your face, another dancing along the skin of your stomach and pressing against the flesh—calming the heaving breaths that come with the tears.

Both legs are shaking with the exertion, your lips trembling as you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to tip yourself over the edge. To finally give yourself relief from the nauseatingly painful ache that leaks between your legs—seeping into the crevasses of your brain and rendering yourself a dumb, whimpering mess at the faux sympathy and shaking determination of the object of your desecration.

“Joel,” you whisper, throat too sore from where his cock had been inside it previously to open your mouth more than an inch. “D-daddy.”

“Shhhh, babydoll, s’okay.”

Through your blurred eyes, you can see his smirk, the undeniable pride that lingers in the pits of every bruise on his body; every scar that disappears when he has you so desperate.

“It’s not,” you manage to whine. “Daddy, please, it hurts.”

All he does is laugh, kissing uncharacteristically softly along your body—a distinct difference from the harsh treatment of your poor, abused cunt he had been toying with for the past hour. Sweat was glistening along your skin, naked as the day you were born save for the frilly little socks on your feet he had insisted you keep on in case your toes were to become cold. Couldn’t have that.

No, Joel’s little angel baby could not have cold feet. That level of discomfort was far too much for the man to allow. It was perfectly fine to have your clit rubbed raw and swollen, however. That was a pain you needed for your own peace of mind.

“I know it does,” he muttered with little sympathy, thumb running over your nipple—a jolt at the sensation and Joel’s smirk widening at the discovery. “Oh, honey, you’re so sensitive, ain’t ya?”

You peel your eyes open to scowl at him, the condition he’s worked you up to making you so irritable you could hardly care if he was disappointed in your attitude.

“Yes!” you whine, hand clawing at his shirt—the object of your desires hovering above you, still fully clothed whilst you lay naked and sweating. “Daddy, please, I haven’t been bad!”

It was the truth. Joel knew it too. You’d been his perfect girl all these weeks he’d been busy helping control the dangerous amount of infected that had been hoarding the mountains surrounding Jackson. Long days and late nights, a tired and consequently irritable Joel coming home to a sweet and obedient you that didn’t cry, barely even flinched when he snapped at you that time you’d been rambling about your day and he wasn’t in the mood to find it endearing. You’d just quietly apologised and then crawled onto the floor to take your place at his feet—arm wrapping around his leg and face nuzzling into his thigh.

He’d apologised the next morning and kissed you all over, more forgiving than he was now: hovered over you and pulling away every time you felt the coil tighten and threaten to snap.

“I know you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “And daddy’s very proud of you but this isn’t a punishment, baby. I’m rewardin’ you.”

“No you’re not-”

“Hey, now,” he scolded, gripping the hands that fisted at his shirt, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pushing them against your chest; holding you hostage as he explained himself. “Don’t interrupt me or I ain’t ever lettin’ you finish.”

You pouted, still defiant as ever but decided forgivingly to hear him out, mumbling a half-hearted apology and letting him speak.

“I ain’t tryna make you feel bad, baby, daddy would never wanna do that to you. ‘Specially with how good you’ve been and I know it don’t feel too good right now but the payoff is gonna be somethin’ special, I promise you.” The grip of your wrists began to loosen at your quizzical brow, the contempt replaced with confusion.

“But how-”

“Shh, honey.” He shook his head softly, bringing your hands to his lips and placing kisses along the knuckles. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t ya?”

You nodded enthusiastically, never one to deny the notion that you trusted him implicitly—he had your whole life and, despite his questioning, he would never doubt your devotion.

“Then just let daddy take care of you, okay?” he mumbled against your collarbone, fingers sliding along your skin to nestle between your thighs again, stroking and pinching at your poor cunt once more—clit twitching as he played you with the expert precision that years of experience had gifted to him. Those goddamn hands that had your cheeks heating every time they touched softly along your skin; the most innocent of caresses sending you blazing hot. Skin marred.

Heaving breaths came from your chest when he slipped his fingers inside your wet hole, slick running down your legs and creating a damp spot on the sheets. A stain that you would apologise for and he would clean, promising you that he didn’t care. That this house was as much yours as it was his now.

It had been a quick transition: the way you began to permeate his space. Angel hairbrush on his dresser, panties hanging from the corner of the headboard and the smell of roses lingering in the bathroom steam. He kept you locked in the house that echoed deafeningly before you came traipsing through the front door—the adoration he had for you growing until there was nothing left except the sweltering, burning love that sparked the wood walls and encouraged the smoke that threatened to flame.

You loved him; that much you knew. You loved the way that he took care of you, understood the grievances and the strife, understood the need to let go of yourself, to revert to that childlike personality you had lost years before you should’ve. The stunted childhood—lost to the corners of your nostalgic memory of what it was to be carefree. He let you not care. There was no responsibility, there in his arms. Your head was not full with the thoughts that came so dark in those hours of solitude that kept the blood pumping and your heart screaming.

All you had to do was be loved by him; he made it so easy with the way he spoke to you. The way he loved you.

“That’s my good girl.” The praise was dragged from him by a choked moan, his fingers curling, thumb playing with your clit and lips along your neck—bruising and marking. Time, as a moving thing, slowly began to soften his paranoia, and those blooming purple splotches along your neck and breasts, nipped along your thighs, were something to be proud of. Something that he looked at from the corner of his eye, smiling softly into his drink when Annie from the bakery worried over you—thinking naively that the marks were injuries from patrols you had been banned from long ago. Smouldering from afar as you tried to explain and then cowering when he would see Tommy’s disproving glare and Maria’s distaste grow stronger than usual.

Marks that he created again in the sweat of his bed, with you whining and begging him for release.

“Please, Daddy,” you sniffled, stomach tightening again—so easy to build you up after he’d deprived you so many times already. “Can’t take much more…”

“Oh, my little girl.” There was a certain lilt to his tone as he cooed, an intentional quickening of his fingers that told you, even in your blissed-out state, that this was not the time. That he would pull away as soon as he felt you clamping around him and panting in the wake of your desperation.

“Daddy,” you cried again, tears streaming into your temples, trailing along your scalp and making you shiver with the contrasting cooling of your blazing hot skin. “P-please don't.”

“Don’t what, baby?” You groaned at his question, sobs falling at his laugh. “C’mon, angel, tell Daddy what you want. Don’t leave me wonderin’.”

Your words were coming out in unintelligible babbles as the fire raged deep in your belly, spreading to your hips and forcing them to buck as they burnt—blisters appearing along your skin as you tried to ask him if you could come, tried to tell him how much you needed it, contemplating uttering that fateful word from your lips that guaranteed your safety. Cry in his arms for a bit and then smile as he softened and gave you exactly what you wanted.

“C-come, Daddy,” you managed to whimper, ready to scream when he replied.

“Say again, honey. Didn’t quite catch that.”

You gripped at the sheets, sweating all over, feet too hot with the socks adorning them and cried into the pillows as he pushed you right to the edge of the cliff, holding you gracefully over the lip, keeping you teetering—stomach spinning. You begged him to let you go, to kick your legs out from under you and let you feel the sweet release.

“Need to come, p-p-please.” For a moment, you thought you had him, clit tingling, palms sweating, chest heaving, ready to finally jump, and then as quickly as the hope had come, it was squandered as he pulled his hand away from your legs, and began shushing your cries—sobs fully encapsulating you as he took you in his arms and kissed over your face.

“Breathe, angel, it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair, careful not to press his full weight into you as he pulled your chest to his and kissed the tip of your nose, each cheek, your forehead and then your lips—a choreographed worship that had become the biggest comfort to you in the times where he denied you everything you wanted.

“Daddy…” you said through the sobs. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, dodging your question with no grace and all brute force. “It’ll be worth it, babygirl, I promise. Daddy promises, yeah?”

You shook your head defiantly, expressing as best as you could your irritation with him—a mood that he would let slide for now because he knew fully that you didn’t deserve what he was inflicting on you. You had been so good, the bestest of girls for him whilst he battled the long days and harsh conditions—staying as sweet as possible and knowing him well enough that being a brat purely because he wasn’t giving you enough attention, was not one of the ways to make him feel better.

You had been good—his perfect girl. You deserved to come as many times as you comfortably could, and you deserved his love and affection—the softest of touches and the sweetest of nothings.

But, he needed an outlet. He needed somewhere to put all the irritation and the gruelling mental battles—all the way inside you. He needed to punish you for his own peace of mind but still give you the sweet reward he was hoping to pull from you.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly, looking you straight in your bleary eyes as you clung to the broad expanse of his back, adding to the maps of scars along the muscle with the unconscious press of your nails into his skin. “Daddy isn’t being mean, baby. I promise. I need you to trust me on this one and if you don’t, you tell me, okay? You know I ain’t gonna be mad.”

And just like that Joel was there. Joel Miller, who treated everyone he cared about like they were fine china, was shining into the hedonism that darkened the bedroom. It softened your resolve, blessed by the beauty of every complexity that made up the man above you. So you nodded, the harshness of his eyes disappearing, the hint of a smile crossing his wrinkled brow and a promise sealed as he kissed you.

“Okay,” you murmured, pussy still on fire, eyes still flaming with adoration and depraved desire. “I trust you.”

The smile you got was an expression reserved only for these moments, times when he wasn’t being the stubborn, stoic man that you used to be so terrified of. The softness that he kept just for you—a woman that had captured him completely and made him feel revitalised by the innocence of your youth and the genuineness of your affections.

A woman that he would watch squirm under the heat of his beckoning fingers as they slipped inside you once more, a determination in his eyes that smouldered and flickered until you were shuddering against the feeling—hips bucking into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as the tears pressed into your hairline, lingering in the corners of your eyes and spilling when your legs began to shake.

“Daddy,” you whined, unable to think of anything but that goddamn word—the name that had completely changed your life on the barren plains of a cracked America, the solace of his arms and the comfort of the wondrous space he had provided for you. The safety.

“Lean into it, babydoll,” he murmured over the squelch coming from in between your legs. “Relax for me…breathe.”

His words soothed the burns, salve of his love stinging along the blisters and you let out a sharp exhale, chest slowing to a steady in and out. You braced yourself with a hand on his clothed back, whining at the feeling of fabric against his shoulders and trailing your fingers towards the hem of his shirt and tugging.

The emptiness you felt when he pulled his fingers from you to rip his shirt from his body was almost unbearable, mumbling a high-pitched beg as your ears rang and your head went fuzzy. If you were just a little more conscious, you would’ve smiled at the unbelievable way he seemed to read you, his fingers slipping and thrusting as soon as the cotton hit the floor and his skin was against yours.

“Better?” he muttered against your skin, a short laugh falling from his lips when you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer to you—desperate to feel him against you. You always were. You knew you were in trouble when he fucked you with his clothes on, the man knowing how much you adored feeling the heat of him against you, sweat against sweat, bodies completely entangled. You craved it. You breathed it. You devoted your life to the feeling of his body pressed against you and his forehead against yours as he breathed in every expelled depravity.

It was building there again, clamping around his fingers, slick dripping and eyes squeezing shut as he pressed kisses all over your face—wherever his lips could reach. Devotion squeezed inside the domination, an overpowering feeling overcoming you as he began intentionally stroking at that damned spot inside you that he found with the same precision he killed—bloodied hands blooming inside you, scraping against the sponge and pressing his free palm against your stomach.

The added pressure, the thumb against your clit had your brain ascending to euphoria, madness clawing at you as you tugged him closer; whimpering and shaking.

“There we go,” he said proudly. “We found it, huh? I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cut off my damn circulation.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried pathetically, only recognising the scolding tone of his voice and not the jest that it was meant to be taken as, your hazy mind distracting you from yourself—pulling your body from its resting place and draping you amongst the clouds in heaven. A paradisiacal lunacy overcoming the sensibilities and leaving you in his hold. Trusting completely.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Just focus on that feeling for me,” he requested, fingers still stroking, feeling still growing and transitioning. Something new. “It feel different?” he asked as if he were reading your thoughts. Half the time you believed that he really could see inside your mind and when you muttered a broken ‘yes,’ he nodded along with you, muttering praises that were laced with a fascination with your body’s workings—the mechanisms that brought you to such a brink.

“Feels like-,” you heaved, moans deepening, fingers digging into his shoulders, marring the skin with sensual flagellation and scarring him with your love and desperation.

“Like you’re gonna pee?” He finished for you and you nodded in confirmation, his fingers working double time now, pressing against your stomach as this foreign feeling brewed inside you—indescribably terrifying and equally enthralling.

“D-don’t…can’t,” you babbled and a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of your nose.

“It’s okay, baby, just lean into it. Let yourself feel it, you ain’t gonna piss on me, I promise.”

His strokes were so intentional, each swipe built to make you feel something so beautifully incandescent and sinful. His hand was flat against your stomach, his fingers guiding your hips upwards as he reached deep inside you, pulling cries from your mouth you had never heard before, thankful for the thickness of the walls and the security of his comforting words as he took everything from you. Swallowed every moan, every tear, every devotional that echoed along the four walls, seeped into the crevasses of the mattress and stained the sheets with a connection that could not be scrubbed from the fabric.

“Feels- Daddy, it feels-”

“I know, honey, I know.”

You begin to shake, thighs twitching and head spinning. Fingers scissoring inside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that you could only just make out through your tear-streaked vision and a gust of wind passing through your hair, sending it flying into the night as you reach the edge of the sea cliff and gazed at the crashing waves.

It happened quicker than expected, more sudden than even Joel had anticipated when you begin to seize and go hurtling over the edge, gushing around his fingers, feeling the wetness spray all over him—all over the sheets that become soaked with the essence of you.

“Fuck,” Joel whispered, enamoured with the way you arch and sing for him, trying to keep his own arousal at bay as you cry in his arms. “There we go,” he murmurs, coming back to himself as he feels you clinging to him; needing him close to you. “That's my precious girl…exactly what daddy wanted.”

You’re jerking and writhing when he finally pulls away, dragging the slickness up through your folds, your legs closing around his hand when he brushes against your clit.

“N-n-no, daddy,” you beg. “No more.”

He laughs at the juxtaposition, the exhaustion that had replaced your desperation to come, the sensations that had overcome you: leaving you braindead. A state that he knew should not be taken lightly.

“Oh, my baby,” he muttered. “You were perfect.”

Your eyes were slow to open, his praise basking you in a light glow, illuminating the depths of your soul and replacing the broken pieces that he had just left strewn across the bed.

“What…” you breathed out, legs squeezing together and a light moan gracing the room at the oversensitivity. “What did I just do?”

“You just squirted, honey. Been wantin’ to try that with ya for a while now.” He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just given you an orgasm that rivalled every other release you’d had in your life��coerced by an hour of edging and begging; your body exploding into a diabolical rapture that replayed in your mind as he stroked your hair from your face. “Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

You just whined in response, tugging him as close as possible, letting him rest on his side of the bed and pull you on top of him. You clung to him like he was your life source, breaths still steadying, cunt still tingling and three mumbled words on your lips that had been uttered so many times now you could hardly even remember your life before you adored him so ardently.

“Love you, Daddy.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, happy with his hands all over you and his chest against yours. “Missed you so much.”

He knew what you were referring to, he knew that you had needed his undivided attention—edged or not—for some time now. He hadn’t been as good to you as he’d wanted to be, quick fucks slowly replacing the languid strokes by the fireplace and the whispered words of devotion against the wall; it had been tough on the both of you. All those hours spent in the snow; ugly, malnourished, infected lunging for him when he took a wrong step, fighting with all his might to survive. For you and the prospects that clouded your union.

“I know, babygirl, I missed you too,” he confessed, pressing his cheek into the side of your head, lips pressing feather-light into your hair and his arms tight around your waist. He would not let you go. Could not bear it if you were to slip from his hold. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere now. You know I’ve got the next few weeks off. Gonna spend all of it with my girl. Gonna keep you fucked and fed, how bout that.”

You giggled and shook your head, squeezing him tight and pulling your face from your hiding place to look him in the eyes.

“Sounds perfect, Daddy.”

He looked up at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile that lightened his old features, your hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing along the wrinkles around his eyes. And he let you touch him, let you admire his pretty eyes and strong jaw. All man and not mild. Strong and sturdy. Looking to protect you from the horrors that he daredn’t speak of, from the judgements of others until he’d convinced you that keeping you locked away was normal. That your contributions to the community was keeping him happy.

A beat, silence permeating the tranquility and then you: managing to fluster the Adonis that lay underneath you.

“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” you muttered. “The most handsome daddy ever.”

Joel stared with poorly contained adoration, a smile playing at his lips, a glint in his eyes as he mirrored your movements and took your face in his hands. Thumbs stroked your cheekbones, playing at the softness of your lips and then trailing down the bridge of your nose.

“And you’re the prettiest little babydoll I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “My bestest girl.”

Your cheeks grew hot, his praise and compliments that came far too often, always leaving you a grinning, sweating mess and you hid yourself in his chest, feeling the vibrations of his laugh as you rested your ear against his heartbeat and brought your thumb to your lips.

You’d stay there forever if you could, naked, not afraid of the consequences of your vulnerability. Just completely safe in his arms, loved by a man who was so full of care he was bursting at the seams with a desire to protect someone. To protect you. And with a mumbled “I love you,” on his lips, a squeeze of your waist as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, you understand what it felt like to be loved completely. To have every semblance of your being desired and wanted.

If he ever left, you would have no idea how to reconcile the grief—how to cope with the loss of someone who gave you everything.

So, you lay there and didn’t think about the next time he’d be on patrol. You lay there, in his arms, not thinking of the possibilities. He promised he would always come back to you.

He would always come back.

i have no idea what this is. i'm so tired i can't even be bothered to write this note. i wrote this in the past few hours and its now five in the fucking morning and i can barely see. please appreciate my effort.

#virginreprise™#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #joel tlou

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nevernonline · 5 months ago

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✧.* how to lose the girl; xmh

synopsis: minghao was feeling tired of shallow relationships. his friends, noticing his frustration, challenge him to pursue a girl and then push her away within ten days. intrigued by the idea, he reluctantly accepts the bet as a fun challenge.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring/s: afab reader x non-idol hao.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), low-key fuckboy hao

warning/s: alcohol consumption, some bad jokes, nothing too bad or seggsy

word count: 10.3k

content: all the vibes of how to lose a guy in ten days but nawt. enjoy xo!

Day 1 - The Bet

In the lively heart of the city, Minghao, was out flaunting his charming looks and a playful grin, typically on his much too expensive and lavish work lunches which gave him and the rest of his colleges an excuse to pick up a bunch of beautiful women to take home every night, a lot of them falling hard for him no matter how poorly he left them hanging the morning after. But lately, he noticed how he always found himself drowning in a sea of shallow connections, and it was starting to wear on him.

Sensing his distress, his friends hatched an interesting plan to inject some excitement into his love life: they dared him to make a girl fall for him and then push her away in just ten days! “No way in fucking hell could he pull this off, he’ll get bored by day four.” jeered one friend, gleefully rubbing his hands together. With a mix of reluctance and curiosity bubbling inside him, Minghao accepted, eager to see how fast he could make a girl sprint for the exit.

Across town, y/n was navigating her own challenges. She was as her friends described a fierce, independent powerhouse who was on a mission to conquer the advertising world and prove to her office overrun by male colleagues that she meant business. Relationships? She just viewed them for what they were distractions in her quest for success—something she simply couldn’t afford. With her sights set on her career, she was about to discover just how unpredictable life and love could be when the most unexpected challenges came knocking.

Day 2 - The Meeting

Minghao first spotted Y/n at a coffee shop, her eyes glued to her laptop as she furiously typed, rather loudly should he add. He decided she would be the perfect target. Something about her tight lipped focused face, her hair perfectly slicked into a ponytail, not a hair out of place, something about her felt more like a challenge than a perfect sweep for his bet.

He approached her with his trademark smile, confident and carefree. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty chair across from her. y/n looked up, a mix of annoyance and intrigue in her gaze.

“Actually, yes,I don’t care to do my work around a fuck boy flirting with me, my office has enough of those. Have a good day.” she replied bluntly, not ready to be derailed from her work.

Minghao, undeterred by her obvious dismissal, sat down anyway. “I’m Minghao,” he introduced himself. “And I think you owe me a chance to change your mind.”

She raised an eyebrow, still looking down at her computer, typing a bit less loud now, almost as if she was intrigued and didn’t want him to know but the scowl on her face said she was still skeptical. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Let’s just say I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he replied playfully. “But first, you’ll have to let me take you on a perfect first date.”

Y/n almost chuckled at his audacity, but there was an undeniable spark of intrigue in her gaze. Little did she know, mingling with Minghao was about to shake up her life.

“Fine. If that will get you to leave me alone while I work, I’ll agree.”

“I’m not leaving here until I get your contact information,” Minghao laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n dug through her wallet, searching for a business card. “Here,” she said, finally pulling one out and extending it towards him.

But Minghao just held his hand up in a stop-motion gesture, shaking his head. “No, not a business card. I need to know you’ll actually show up, so let me have your personal phone number instead.”

Y/n stared at him, incredulity mixing with a lingering smile. “Oh, so bold. And what makes you think I will?”

“Because,” he leaned closer, his expression earnest now, “I have a feeling that once you get to know me, you won’t want to miss out. Plus, if I leave with a business card, how will I ever convince you to let me take you on that perfect date?”

Her skepticism flickered for a second under the brightness of his confidence, but she still hesitated. “You really think you can convince me?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone teasing yet sincere. “And if I fail, I promise I’ll leave you alone forever. Deal?”

For a moment, Y/n pondered the spontaneity of his request, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, a grin broke free on her lips as she typed her number into his phone, the anticipation of the unknown sparking excitement within her. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, handing back the phone with a hint of warning in her tone.

Minghao's eyes lit up with genuine delight as he saved her contact. “You won’t regret this,” he promised, his voice softening a touch.

As he returned the phone to her, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a flutter of uncertainty mixed with exhilaration. Perhaps there was something to this spontaneous gamble after all. Little did they know, that simple decision would pave the way for an unforgettable connection and adventures neither had anticipated.

Day 3 - The Chase

Over the days that followed, Minghao played his part, showering her with attention that ranged from over-the-top romantic gestures to quirky surprises. He brought her favorite pastries to the office, sent her memes that made her laugh, and even bombarded her with cheesy pick-up lines. Each time, Y/n found herself torn between annoyance and amusement.

At first, she had tried to brush him off, responding to his texts with one-word replies or simply ignoring his more audacious attempts to brighten her day. However, Minghao persisted, his cheerful determination almost unwavering. One afternoon, she returned from a long meeting to find her desk decorated with colorful sticky notes adorned with doodles and handwritten compliments. “You’re the best part of my day,” one note claimed, and despite her initial irritation, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Minghao was relentless, his charm starting to break down her walls. She had to admit there was something about him—he was refreshingly carefree, unlike the uptight guys she usually dated. While others might have tried to impress her with their accomplishments or flashy gifts, Minghao found ways to make her laugh, embracing a lightheartedness that was both refreshing and frightening. But Y/n was determined to keep him at arm's length; she had a career to focus on.

Still, the more time they spent chatting, the more she found herself looking forward to his texts. Each meme and quirky voice note felt less like an intrusion and more like a highlight of her day. One evening, after a particularly grueling week, she found herself daydreaming about a potential picnic under the stars, something Minghao had suggested a few days prior.

“No, no,” she chastised herself, shaking her head as she turned her attention to her laptop. “Stay focused.”

Yet, every time she tried to immerse herself in her work, her mind would inevitably wander back to him. The way he laughed, the warmth in his gaze, even the way he playfully challenged her every now and then—there was an undeniable pull that made it hard to ignore him.

On a particularly busy Friday, while sipping her coffee and reviewing a presentation, she felt her phone vibrate on the desk. A message appeared: “Hey, just thought you might want to know that your favorite pastry is waiting at the corner café. No obligations. Just a little pick-me-up to start your weekend. 😊”

Y/n's heart softened, a flutter of appreciation sweeping through her. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, trying to suppress the smile creeping onto her face. Maybe she could allow herself a moment of distraction.

She quickly glanced at the time and the empty office around her, nobody here really worked on the weekends aside from herself so she decided to take a break just this once. With a random jolt of excitement, she stood up, brushed aside her work-related thoughts, and headed to the café. She spotted him sitting comfortably at a small table, a bright smile illuminating his face. Before she could even say a word, he raised a pastry in greeting, “I didn’t know if you liked it warm or cold, so I got one of each, just to be safe!”

Her laughter bubbled out despite herself. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“But I did, you mentioned to me the other day you never have fun on the weekends anymore because you're busy working, ” Minghao countered, setting the pastries down and leaning back in his chair. “Life's too short not to indulge in the little things. Besides, you're worth it.”

His words stirred something in her, something she had kept buried under layers of practicality. A mix of anxiety and excitement danced in her chest as they shared bits of pastry and stories, laughter weaving between them effortlessly. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/n considered that perhaps life wasn’t just about hard work and career goals—it could also be about spontaneous moments and unexpected connections.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the café, Y/n let herself enjoy the moment, her defenses slowly crumbling, piece by piece. “Want to go for a drink? Unless you have plans or something?”

“You’re asking me out? Wow, Y/n, I’m pleasantly surprised. I’d actually enjoy that. Big boss lady is paying, right?” Minghao pressed, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a laugh escaped her lips. “Very funny. I should have known you’d want to make this about money,” she teased, her heart racing slightly at the thought of stepping into the realm of casual dating.

“I’m kidding. But you know I’d never let you cover the whole tab, right?” he replied, his voice playful yet sincere. “How about we split it? One thing I’ve learned is that relationships, friendships or otherwise, are all about balance.”

“That sounds fair but please let me get it actually I feel a little bad about you always paying anyway. Plus, I asked you. That's how it works right?,” she agreed, her spirit lifted by his lightheartedness. “Where do you want to go?”

“I know this cozy little bar just around the corner. They have some cool drinks and the vibes are good,” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Plus, I’ve heard they serve a mean nacho platter.”

“Nachos and drinks sound perfect. Wow- I hate that I actually got excited by a fucking macho platter, but okay.” she replied, feeling a surge of excitement and momentary embarrassment over some fucking chips with cheese. She was surprised at how nervous yet invigorated she felt.

As they walked to the bar, the warm evening air enveloped them like a casual embrace. With every step beside him, Y/n felt the weight of her daily grind lift. “So, what’s your go-to cocktail?” she asked, surprisingly eager to keep the chatter flowing.

“I’d say I’m a classic and simple beer or wine dude, but I’m always game for something a bit off the beaten path. You?”

“Dirty martini,” she answered, a proud smile crossing her face. “Simple but sophisticated.”

“Ah, the big boss lady indeed. But the real question is gin or vodka?” He winked, and for a moment, she felt herself blush, something she hadn’t experienced in ages.

“Vodka, but shut you fucking mouth and don’t tell any martini enthusiasts. Extra dry, extra dirty.”

“Not extra wet and extra dirty?”

Y/n nearly choked on her own spit, watching his face crinkle into a big smile before they erupted into laughter.

They snagged a small table tucked away in a corner, perfect for engaging in their own little world.

After placing their orders, conversations flowed as smoothly as the drinks. Minghao effortlessly switched between sharing amusing anecdotes about his life and asking Y/n about hers, genuinely interested in her career aspirations and what fueled her passions. With every laugh they exchanged and each shared story, Y/n found herself relaxing more, drawn into his effortless charm.

“Alright, I need the truth,” Minghao said, leaning in as if about to share a juicy secret. “What’s your biggest guilty pleasure?”

Y/n took a moment, contemplating her answer before finally admitting, “Reality TV. It’s a little bit shameful, I know, but there’s something about the drama that I can’t resist.”

Minghao laughed heartily, the sound filling her with warmth. “No shame in that. I actually can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching Love Island. I’m more of a cooking show fan, to be honest. Nothing quite like watching people fail spectacularly while I sit there eating takeout as if I can cook this shit myself.”

“Okay, we’re definitely going to have a night where I introduce you to some of the best reality stars of all time, where you will sit and not fucking complain. And since I can cook, I will go hell's kitchen style on the stove. ” she declared, a playful challenge glimmering in her eyes.

“Hey, look I’m game, but only if you let me judge your cooking like I’m the god himself Ramsay.” he exclaimed, his excitement unmistakable. “Just let me know when. I’ll bring the snacks and the commentary.”

As the evening progressed, they shared stories about childhood memories, dreams, and the quirks that made them who they were. With each revelation, Y/n felt a deeper connection forming, an understanding that perhaps taking a little time away from work wouldn’t derail her ambitions after all.

Maybe it was time to let a little chaos in, she thought, as their conversation twisted and turned down unexpected paths, igniting sparks of joy she hadn’t anticipated, making her question everything she thought she knew about herself and about love.

Minghao got the vibe that his little plan for making Y/n fall for him could potentially end up with him feeling the same way, but not yet. He pushed that feeling deep down inside his gut, almost like he could hide it from everyone, including himself. His heart raced with excitement, but mingled with a twinge of anxiety. He didn’t want to rush things or scare her off with his burgeoning feelings. Just because she was opening up didn’t mean she was ready for more, and he wanted to tread carefully even if it was just to fuck around for a bet with his friends.

“So, Y/n, since you’re not working tomorrow, want to come hang out at my place for a bit? Have a nightcap? Maybe watch a movie or something?” Minghao questioned, his voice casual, but the flicker of anticipation in his eyes betrayed him.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the prospect of going to his place stirring a mix of excitement and nerves within her. She knew this was a step beyond their playful banter, a leap into a territory where she would need to confront what she was feeling. But the words “why not?” danced on the tip of her tongue.

“Sure, I’d love that,” she replied, a hint of eagerness surprising even herself. “But fair warning, if we’re watching a movie, it has to be a good one. Nothing corny please.”

“Oh come on, you seem like you’d love a good rom-com, I can tell.” Minghao laughed, and she found herself laughing along, the playful banter feeling natural and comforting.

As they bickered back and forth about their movie preferences, Y/n felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of spending more time with him. Maybe this was the chaos she needed in her life—this lighthearted connection that sparked something new and exhilarating.

“I know just the film to break your resistance,” Minghao declared, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “Prepare yourself for a classic, then. I think you’ll love it, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But if it’s as terrible as I imagine, you owe me.” Y/n countered playfully, feeling a warmth spread through her chest.

“Deal.” he shot back with a cheeky grin, and the two clinked their glasses together in agreement, the camaraderie between them solidifying.

As they finished their drinks and shared a few more laughs, Y/n couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was just the beginning—like an entrance into a world she had pushed away for too long, forever maybe.. And Minghao, with his undeniable charm and knack for fun, was animating a side of her she had almost forgotten existed.

After wrapping up the evening at the bar, they stepped back into the cool night air. The streets were softly illuminated, the stars twinkling overhead, creating an atmosphere that was very special. As they walked side by side toward Minghao's apartment, the distance felt comfortable, but somehow charged with an undercurrent of anticipation.

“Y/n,” Minghao said, breaking the gentle silence, “I know we’ve only just started hanging out, but I just want to make sure you feel okay about this. I mean, about coming over.” He glanced at her, his expression earnest. “No pressure at all—I just genuinely enjoy your company.I’m not trying to be a player or whatever you assumed I was when we first met.”

His sincerity made her heart flutter. “I’m glad you said that, but it was fuck boy and you maybe have proved yourself beyond that title. I enjoy this too, and I think it’ll be fun to hang out more and get to know you. Just…uh, promise you wont judge me too harshly if I end up hogging the blanket during the movie or talking with popcorn in my mouth or something.”

“Fair warning accepted,” he replied, a teasing gleam in his eye. “I might have to initiate a blanket-sharing strategy, I think we can make it work.”

They both laughed, the playful energy crackling between them as they approached his building. Maybe she could allow herself to embrace this unexpected chaos, to explore a connection without overthinking it for once. And who knows? Perhaps Minghao wouldn’t just be a passing ship but a delightful step into a new chapter of her life.

As they stepped into his cozy apartment, Y/n tucked that thought away for later, intent on simply enjoying the moment—and the thrill of where it might lead them.

Minghao took her coat off her shoulders, hanging it on the small black hooks by his front door. Sliding his own off gently placing them side by side. Instructing her where to place her shoes and bag on the marble entry table donning photos of his friends and family.

“Your apartment is really cute, I can tell you like living here. It has a warm feel to it.”

“Yeah, I do,” Minghao smiled taking in a whiff of his tobacco scented room spray, and grabbing y/n’s hand to lead her into his living room, taking a brief stop at his bar cart and grabbing a bottle of wine, while handing her two glasses to carry in her empty hand.

The aroma of the wine filled the space as he poured their glasses, the deep crimson liquid swirling beautifully.

Minghao grinned, taking a sip of his own before handing one of the glasses over to her. Their fingers brushed for a moment, sending a spark of electricity that made her smile shyly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab the remote.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, sinking into the overly plush cushions. She took a moment to look around, noting the way the soft lighting cast a warm glow over the walls adorned with art—pieces that seemed to reflect Minghao’s adventurous spirit, each one telling a story.

When he returned, remote in hand, he plopped down beside her, his warmth radiating through her as he casually leaned back, scrolling through his streaming options. “Alright, let’s see what we have here. Brace yourself for my fucking unmatched taste in cinema,” he teased, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Give me all that you got, I’m ready,” she replied with playful confidence, leaning into the moment.

With a few flicks of the remote, they settled on a classic action-comedy. The opening credits rolled as they adjusted their seats, finding a naturally comfortable closeness. The shared space between them began to feel charged with anticipation.

As the film began, they laughed together at the antics on screen, occasionally glancing at each other, enjoying the laughter as a bridge between their hearts. Every shared chuckle seemed to layer on the connection that was forming, an unspoken understanding lacing the air around them.

“Minghao, I, uh have got to admit, this isn’t what I expected tonight,” Y/n said during a quiet moment, her eyes sparkling. “But I’m really glad it worked out and that I met you.”

“Yeah? Really? Me too,” he replied, his gaze softening as he turned to her. “I’ve wanted to hang out like this for a while. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same, but I’m glad we did. I’m glad I forced you to give me your phone number that day.”

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his honesty. She had been guarded for so long, and here was Minghao, effortlessly peeling away at her layers with every shared moment.

As the movie progressed, he reached for the popcorn bowl perched on the coffee table, offering it to her. Their fingers brushed again, igniting an electric thrill that danced between them. The film faded into the background as Y/n found herself getting lost in the depths of his gaze.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” she began, leaning in slightly, “your blanket-sharing strategy may be your ultimate plan to seduce me. I see you.”

Minghao chuckled, taking her playful jab in stride. “Guilty as charged. What can I say? Who could resist a cozy blanket and beautiful company?” He pulled the soft throw from behind the couch, draping it over their laps.

As he settled back beside her, their shoulders nudged together under the blanket, his hand wrapped around her thigh and Y/n felt her heart race. There was an undeniable chemistry in the air, palpable like the fragrance of the wine swirling around them.

Without thinking too much about it, she rested her head on his shoulder, throwing her hair back to reveal her neck—not as a move, just a way to make herself more comfortable. As she leaned in, she caught the subtle scent of Minghao’s cologne, warm and inviting, and felt the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder beneath her cheek. It was a small gesture, yet it felt so natural, almost like an instinctive draw to his warmth.

Minghao looked down at her with a side eye, surprised at how effortlessly they had crossed this invisible line. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin looked under the low light and the way her eyes widened with joy as she laughed at the antics on the screen. Her laughter was contagious, reverberating through him and making his heart race a little faster, a little louder in the calm of the room.

Suddenly, Minghao felt an unfamiliar pang of anxiety creep into his chest. The bet had seemed innocent—a way to explore the chemistry simmering between them—but now it felt like a threaded line tugging at him in different directions. Maybe the bet was a bad idea after all, because now he felt himself falling for someone without knowing what could come next, just like that. It was as if he had opened a door to an inevitable chaos while still trying to remain in control.

Yet every time she shifted slightly against him, every laugh that slipped from her lips, deepened the connection he felt. He had initially thought he’d be the one charming her, the one doing the chasing, but here they were, and Y/n’s mere presence had knocked him off his feet. It startled him, this flicker of vulnerability—that maybe he wasn’t just playing a game; he was investing real emotions.

“You okay?” Y/n murmured, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, her brow slightly furrowed as she noticed the contemplative look on his face.

He quickly masked his thoughts with an easygoing smile. “Yeah, just caught up in the movie,” he replied, trying to divert her attention. “The action scenes are really intense, right?”

Though she seemed to accept his diversion with a playful nod, he could see the hint of curiosity lingering in her eyes, a flash that told him she sensed something in the air between them. A moment of silence stretched between them like a tightly pulled string, neither of them willing to break it. Instead, they allowed the movie to fill the space, as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss against her lips. Something subtle and quick that was just perfect for the moment and wouldn’t derail the nice night they were sharing, he wasn’t ready for that yet.

As the film progressed, Y/n shifted again, curling her body towards him slightly as a particularly funny scene played out, her laughter bubbling forth. It was that unfiltered joy he found intoxicating—a refreshing reminder that life could be this light, this fun, and maybe even a little crazy.

Day 4 - The Competition

During a group outing with friends, Minghao decided to reveal the second phase of his plan: he started being annoyingly competitive. “Let’s have a game night.” he declared, his voice ringing with enthusiasm as he rallied everyone around him. "I challenge you all to a series of ridiculous contests, from karaoke battles to board games. Losers buy the drinks." There was a mixture of excitement and groans from the group, but Minghao was unfazed. He thrived in this atmosphere, eager to galvanize Y/n into joining him in the chaos.

Y/n, who he knew hated losing, found herself reluctantly swept up in the energy of the night. A glimmer of excitement sparked in her eyes, even as she partnered with Minghao, who pretended to be completely uninterested in the competition. She could see the mischievous glint behind his facade, his playfulness luring her in.

As they tackled their first karaoke challenge, Minghao grabbed the microphone. He belted out an off-key rendition of her favorite song, doing little to hide his comedic flair. “You're fucking terrible at this.” Y/n teased him, trying to contain the laughter that bubbled up at the sight of his unfiltered enthusiasm.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you to help me improve,” Minghao shot back, his smile never wavering. He pointed the microphone at her cheekily, inviting her to join in. The playful energy between them was palpable, the laughter of their friends helped her gain confidence.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t quell the smile creeping onto her lips. “You know I fucking suck at singing, right?” she joked, hopping up on stage beside him. In a moment of spontaneity, she grabbed the microphone and took the lead, pouring her heart into the next part of the song, using her off-key notes as a comedic backdrop. Her confidence radiated, and soon the others joined in, clapping and singing along.

The laughter and energy of the room felt electric, and for a moment, the competition melted away, leaving only joy. The night continued with a series of board games and ridiculous challenges, each one causing Minghao to lean in closer to Y/n as they plotted ways to win.

“What’s your game plan?” he whispered to her, though the intensity of his smile hinted he was thoroughly enjoying the game itself more than he let on. The way his eyes sparkled made her heart race a little, stirring a thrill she hadn’t anticipated and in that moment all she wanted to do was wipe the smirk off his face with her lips.

“Honestly? I think our only plan is to distract the other teams with our charm,” Y/n replied, gesturing theatrically. “We’re clearly the most entertaining, so I kind of like it. It's a sweep.”

Minghao laughed, and the sound resonated in her chest. “Perfect strategy.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers as they whispered strategies into the fray of friendly competition raging around them.

As the night wore on, the playful banter and friendly sabotage culminated in a final showdown—an impromptu trivia contest that had everyone shouting questions at one another. “This one’s a gimme. Come on.” Minghao said, grinning ear to ear as he looked at Y/n. “I’ll let you take this one.”

She raised an eyebrow, half-surprised by his sudden willingness to let her answer. “Uh-huh, so this is your secret strategy—make me do all the work?” she said, nudging him playfully.

“Only the smart person's work,” Minghao shot back, laughter dancing in his voice as he leaned into her side. “And besides, I can’t afford another karaoke performance like that—I’m salvaging my reputation here.”

She smirked, appreciating the electric vibe still lingering in the air. “Fine, but you better promise to make up for it after this.”

Their competitive banter continued as the final questions rolled in. Y/n felt surprisingly exhilarated, and she realized that within the madness of the game night—amidst the silly antics and the thrill of competition—something deeper was taking root in her heart. Minghao, in all his competitive glory, was not just a friend; he was somebody who brought out a side in her she hadn’t even known existed.

Day 5 - The Realization

As time progressed, y/n found herself letting her guard down, enjoying Minghao’s company more than she intended. They shared late-night conversations, honest stories of their pasts, and hilarious anecdotes that made her laugh until she cried. But just as quickly as those feelings bloomed, fear crept in. Could she afford to get attached?

Both of them shied away from being honest with their feelings as a matter of protection from their pain in the past.

Minghao especially realized how complicated the situation was. Could he really move forward with her without telling her the truth of why he asked her out in the first place? However, if he tells her the truth, he could lose her altogether. Each day that he hesitated felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, an unspoken tension hanging between them like the heavy clouds before a storm.

He recalled the tender moments they shared—the laughter, the stolen glances, the way her smile lit him up even when he felt like the weight of the world was on him. But lurking beneath those cherished memories was a foundation built on secrets and half-truths. He grappled with the fear that if he revealed the underlying reason for his affection, she might see him as just another guy in her life trying to throw her off her path, rather than someone who genuinely cared.

The truth was like a double-edged sword; it could liberate him or shatter the fragile bond they had formed. In those quiet moments, he could feel his heart wrestling with his mind—one part needing authenticity, while another begged for the safety of keeping his own secret. Was there a path that could lead them both to what they wanted rather than hurting them both?

He knew that eventually, he would have to choose a direction, but every path was filled with uncertainty. Perhaps, for now, he would focus on the little things—the warmth of her hand in his, the gentle way they navigated tough conversations. Yet, deep inside, he wondered how long they could remain strangers to their own truths. The clock was ticking, and each moment felt like an opportunity slipping away.

Day 6 - The Plan Backfires

In an effort to push Y/n away to avoid hurting her, Minghao started purposely sending mixed signals. He ignored her texts, acted uninterested in their plans, and even pretended to be busy whenever she attempted to schedule time together. But to his surprise, Y/n didn’t waver. She matched his energy with playful banter and unwavering support, showing up outside his office with his favorite coffee just when he needed it—the same way he had done for her.

Each time she appeared, a smile lighting up her face, it reminded him of how deeply she understood him, and he knew his plan was backfiring. She took his teasing in stride, firing back with witty comebacks that reminded him of the vibrant connection they shared. He felt the walls he was trying to build between them start to crumble, intrigued and frustrated by the strength of her positive attitude.

Why was he pushing her away when all she seemed to want was him? He could see the concern behind her laughter, the way her brow furrowed slightly when she caught him lost in thought, and it tore at his heart. Was this really the right way to protect her, or was he simply running from something that could be good for both of them?

On one particularly tough day, as he stared out the window, he caught a glimpse of her leaning against the wall, coffee in hand, waiting for him to take a moment to breathe. The sunlight caught her hair, giving her a glow that made her look like an angel in real life, and his chest tightened. She wasn't the kind of person to give up easily, and maybe that’s something he was drawn to.

Instead of the irritation he anticipated feeling, Minghao began to appreciate her staying power. In that moment, he felt both grateful and terrified—grateful that she cared enough to stick around, and terrified that the longer he held back, the more he risked losing a part of himself he had forgotten even existed.

With each passing day, the facade he’d constructed started to feel less like protection and more like a prison. He saw how much she believed in him, not just as a friend, but as someone capable of finding happiness again. But as the walls crumbled beneath her unwavering kindness, he grappled with the realization that if he didn’t confront the truth soon, he might not just push her away, he might just lose her. Minghao knew he would have to decide soon to continue the charade or to find the courage to let her in.

Day 7 - The Confession

One night, while they were taking a walk, the air was heavy with tension, and Minghao couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you keep coming back? I’m clearly trying to push you away,” he blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush, tinged with frustration and desperation.

Y/n stopped, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious for once. “Because, Minghao, I see something in you. I didn’t set out to fall for you, but I can’t help it. You starting to pull away is confusing me. What changed overnight that you can barely even look at me anymore?” Her tone was both challenging and vulnerable, a blend that cut through the discomfort hanging between them.

“It’s because—” Minghao swallowed hard, his heart racing as he looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of the truth pressing against his chest. He focused on her furrowed expression, “This was a bet, and I—”

“A bet?” Y/n’s voice rose, sharp almost like a knife diving into his chest. The surprised look on her face shifted rapidly from confusion to hurt, and it churned something deep within him. He was struck again by the disbelief in her eyes.

The silence between them was thick and suffocating. Minghao took a breath, searching for the right words, but they were lost on him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” he pressed on, his voice softer now. “We started out as a joke—something to distract myself. It was my friend's idea that I foolishly agreed to. And then… then you became real to me.” He paused, trying to convey the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

Y/n crossed her arms, visibly hurt, but her gaze didn't waver. “You mean to tell me that all this time, all those moments we had—that they were just part of some fucking game with your buddies?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“No. It may have started that way, but it turned into something much deeper,” he pleaded, desperate to convey his truth. “I didn’t plan to fall for you. I didn’t plan on feeling this way at all. But once I did, I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought pushing you away would protect you from the truth.”

Y/n shook her head, her expression a blend of frustration and heartbreak. “You think pushing me away protects me? Minghao, it only pushes me into uncertainty. If you had just told me from the start, I could have chosen to stay or walk away. But now, you’ve just made everything ten times fucking worse.”

Feeling increasingly guilty he stepped closer, trying to bridge the distance he had created. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I should have been honest with you. I never wanted to hurt you. The fear of losing you, it…” he trailed off, unsure how to articulate his feelings.

Y/n took a deep breath, her demeanor softening just a fraction. “You need to make a choice, Minghao. Either let me in, all the way, or please let me go. I.. uh, can’t handle this right now. I’ll try to give you a call in a few days or maybe see you around.”

The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, and Minghao realized that it was time to confront not only the truth of their beginning but also the reality of what was blossoming between them. He had been running from the idea of vulnerability for so long, but now faced with Y/n’s determination, he found just enough strength within himself to start breaking down the walls he had built. As he watched her walk away from him not turning back around like he wished she would have, for once, Minghao felt the stirrings of hope amidst his fear.

Day 8 - A Challenge

With Minghao’s words hanging in the air, Y/n found herself re-evaluating her feelings. She had initially wanted to leave him there on the street as a part of her past, but the connection they shared was stronger than she had anticipated. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want it to end after all, but she wasn’t willing to let him get away with tricking her so easily.

She decided on her own plan—something to throw him off his game truly in her own style just to get back at him, but only all in good fun. It was time to show Minghao that she wasn’t someone to be underestimated.

Y/n had gotten in contact with one of Minghao's friends, a guy named Jisoo whom she had met during their karaoke competition. After a quick chat filled with enthusiasm and laughter, she proposed the idea of entering a “Battle of the Bands”-style karaoke show hosted by her workplace for charity. Jisoo was immediately on board and even rallied a few more of their friends to join in. But Y/n made one thing clear: they absolutely couldn’t let Minghao in on the secret. This was her chance to catch him off guard.

In the following weeks, his friends practiced relentlessly. Y/n wasn't just aiming to win at work; she wanted to create an unforgettable evening, one that would leave Minghao in pure shock. They practiced their songs, and even designed matching outfits for the event—a whimsically themed performance that would be impossible to forget.

Finally, the night of the charity show arrived. The venue was filled with colorful lights and the buzz of excitement as coworkers and friends gathered, taking their seats for what promised to be a lively night. Y/n donned a not necessarily work appropriate dress that reflected the playful spirit of her prank and maybe to catch someone's eyes. She could already see Minghao mingling with some of his friends, his laughter filling the air, and she felt a mixture of nerves and anticipation flutter in her stomach.

As the show kicked off, the energy in the room was contagious. The first few acts were entertaining, but Y/n could barely focus. She was waiting for her moment to take the stage and introduce Minghao and the others who were waiting to humiliate their friend gathered backstage, the excitement was palpable. They could hear Minghao in the crowd, cheering loudly for the groups, and Y/n smiled to herself, knowing what was coming next.

When it was their turn to perform, Y/n’s heart raced. She walked onto the stage, focusing on the bright lights and the sea of faces staring back at her. She could spot Minghao in the crowd before she introduced him, watching his slightly puzzled but amused look on his face as he recognized members of his circle.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Y/n shouted into the microphone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, clinking their glasses and waving them in the air as the spotlight warmed her skin.

“I have a special surprise for you all this evening!” The anticipation in the room built up in waves as she paused for effect. “You won’t believe what I’ve been up to. If you haven’t already heard, I recently met someone!”

The crowd roared in excitement, whoops and claps echoing around the venue.

“Shocking, right? You might have seen him around the office. Can we get a spotlight on him?”

The beam of light swept through the crowd until it landed on Minghao, who looked around, momentarily startled.

“Everyone, meet Minghao!” Y/n continued, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We actually met at the coffee shop below the office. I was drowning in my mid-week project when he approached my table and asked me out on a date. I’ll admit, I was pretty hesitant at first. But he worked his charm on me.”

She smiled warmly, letting reminiscence wash over her. “We ended up going out a few times after that, but just a few nights ago, he let me in on a little secret—it was all a bet set up by these guys right here!”

Y/n dramatically pointed behind her at a group of men clad in glittery outfits, their faces a mix of embarrassment and amusement as they realized they’d been called out. Laughter erupted once again, and Minghao could only shake his head, a smirk on his lips as the crowd carried on, fully entertained by the unfolding story.

The laughter from the crowd soared, and Y/n could see Minghao’s face shifting from amusement to slight embarrassment when a man behind him yelled up to the stage. “A bet? Seriously?” he called out.

“Yes. You heard that right.” Y/n responded, leaning into the microphone as she theatrically rolled her eyes, embracing the absurdity of it all. “Turns out, my romantic escapades were all part of some grand scheme these guys made up.”

The men behind her chuckled sheepishly, with one of them, a tall guy with a dazzling smile, shouting playfully, “In our defense, we thought it was a great idea. Including Minghao.”

“Oh, it definitely was,” Y/n replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the great dates,you guys. I had no idea I was part of a reality show, I watch them enough you’d think I’d catch on.” She paused for comedic effect, letting the laughter settle before leaning closer to the audience, her tone more serious. “You know, honestly, Minghao surprised me in ways I never expected.”

She glanced over at Minghao, whose cheeks were slightly flushed under the spotlight but wore a sincere smile. “I was a bit hesitant at first, sure. But then we really connected. And who would have guessed that the guy who interrupted my focused day with a charming smile would become someone so special?”

Cheers erupted from the crowd again, and Y/n took a deep breath, enticing them with what was coming next.

“And, since we’re being honest here,” she continued, teasingly leaning into her role as the narrator of this unfolding tale, “I feel like we need to make Minghao work just a little for his redemption. No?” The audience murmured in excitement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve arranged a little surprise for him tonight,” Y/n said, gesturing to the side of the stage. “Minghao, my friend, you've got just one more challenge ahead of you.”

Out of nowhere, a karaoke microphone was handed to Minghao from his left side and the crowd erupted into cheers and laughter again. Minghao held it awkwardly, glancing at Y/n with a mix of uncertainty and delight.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, genuinely confused but slightly intrigued.

“You’re going to sing! Duh. Don’t be dumb,” Y/n declared, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. “The audience deserves to see what they’re in for. Plus, it’s only fair after that little trick you pulled. You’re going to serenade us all.”

Minghao let out a laugh, his initial shock transforming into acceptance. The crowd erupted once again, chanting, “Minghao! Minghao!”

Feeling the energy in the room, Minghao stepped forward, climbing up the stairs with a new light in his eyes. “Alright then, I guess I have no choice but to give the audience what they want!” He took a deep breath and gazed at Y/n one last time before launching into a fun, upbeat song that brought everyone to their feet.

As he sang, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection. Despite the insane circumstances that brought them together, there was something genuine unfolding between them, amplified by the shared laughter and excitement of the evening.

With each note, Minghao seemed to shed any lingering nerves, pouring his heart out into the music. The audience was enthralled, dancing and singing along, swept up in the joy of the moment. Y/n found herself cheering louder than anyone else, her laughter mingling with his infectious energy.

And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she watched him shine on stage, this night was the perfect reminder that sometimes the best stories come from the unexpected. It wasn’t just about the twists and turns of their initial meeting; it was about the connections forged when they embraced things together. As Minghao finished with a flourish, the crowd erupted into applause, and Y/n couldn't help but wonder how many more surprises awaited them on this journey.

Day 9 - A Change of Heart

Determined to make a last-ditch effort to win her back, Minghao doubled down on his resolve. He sent her a series of texts brimming with encouragement, recounting the fun they’d had the night before. “I never imagined I’d be up on stage like that, but it was totally worth it,” he wrote, his fingers flying across the screen. “You have this incredible way of bringing out the best and most ridiculous in people. I genuinely had a good time, especially seeing those fuckers in glitter pants.”

He poured his heart into his messages, sharing how her laughter had ignited a spark within him, and how getting to know her was quickly becoming the highlight of his life. “You made me feel brave, even while I was totally making a fool of myself,” he typed with a grin, imagining her laughter echoing in his ears. “And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing about it. You’re amazing, Y/n.”

As the hours passed without a response, doubts started to creep into his mind. Had he gone too far with the whole bet thing? Would she take his lighthearted texts as desperation? But he couldn’t shake the feeling of knowing there was something real between them.. So, he gathered his courage and decided to call.

When Y/n picked up the phone, her voice sounded bright but cautious. “Hey, Minghao. What’s up?”

“Y/n, Hi I don’t know if you saw my texts, you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to check in after last night,” he replied, his heart racing. “I hope you’re still not too mad at me for the bet thing. I promise I didn’t mean for it to be a setup. I actually really enjoyed being with you."

There was a momentary silence, and he held his breath, waiting for her response. “I’m not mad,” she finally said, her tone softening. “I thought it was an interesting twist, honestly. You had me laughing for hours after I got over it a little bit and after talking to your friends. But I just… didn’t want to feel like I was part of some game.”

“I totally understand,” he said quickly, wanting to assure her. “I’m really sorry for how it started. But I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. I liked who I was with you last night and every night really , and I want to get to know you better—like, for real, not as a bet.”

Y/n paused again, and he could almost hear her contemplating his words. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely,” Minghao responded, feeling more confident. “I know we started under unusual circumstances, but every moment I’ve spent with you has felt real. You bring out a side of me I didn’t really know I had, and I really love who I am when I’m with you. So, what do you say? Can we start over?”

He could hear her take a deep breath from the other end, and his heart raced in anticipation. “Okay, let’s do that,” she finally said, her voice brightening. “But let’s be clear the only bets this time will be on actual games, not people's feelings”

Minghao laughed, relief washing over him. “Deal. Just me trying to impress you from now on.”

“You already have, that was your promise from the start and you followed through.”

As they chatted and made plans for their next outing—a casual coffee date, just like they first met no strings attached—Minghao felt a renewed sense of hope. He was determined to show her that he was sincere, that the bet was just a silly beginning to what he hoped would be a beautiful journey together.

After they hung up, Minghao couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t just about winning her back; it was about starting anew, embracing the possibility of a real thing. And as excitement bubbled in his chest, he began to plan how he could make their next date unforgettable. After all, if Y/n could turn a wild bet into a night filled with laughter, he was ready to dive in and see where this newfound adventure would take them both.

Day 10 - The Second First Date.

As the days crept closer to their date, Minghao found himself overrun with excitement and nerves. He wanted everything to be perfect. Standing in front of his closet, he debated over his wardrobe, tossing shirts onto the bed haphazardly. He could feel the pressure mounting the stakes felt higher this time—not just because he was going to see Y/n again, but because he wanted her to see him as more than just that guy than a guy who bet on her feelings.

Eventually, he settled on a casual but stylish outfit, one that he felt confident in. Being genuine was the goal, after all, and he didn’t want to put on a facade. Just before he headed out the door, he glanced in the mirror, giving himself a final pep talk. “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

At the coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the chatter of customers. Minghao arrived early, pacing a bit with anticipation. He chose the same cozy corner table her first noticed her at, where they’d have some privacy but still be part of the lively atmosphere.

When Y/n walked in, his heart skipped a beat. She looked effortlessly beautiful, her hair cascading over her shoulders and a warm smile lighting up her face. She spotted him, her eyes sparkling with familiarity, and his nervousness began to fade away as she approached.

“Hi, nice to meet you, you’re Minghao right?” she greeted, her voice filled with warmth.

“Hey, yeah. I’m glad you made it,” Minghao replied, standing to greet her. They exchanged a brief hug, and it felt surprisingly comfortable.

As they settled into their seats with steaming cups of coffee in hand, the conversation flowed naturally, as if they’d never left off. They chatted about everything their favorite shows, upcoming plans, and the ridiculous things they’d seen online lately. Laughter punctuated their discussion, the kind that made the world around them feel distant.

At one point, Y/n playfully leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, tell me—what’s your strategy for impressing me today? More dance moves? Karaoke?”

Minghao laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “Let’s save the dancing for another time. I’m still trying to recover from the last performance,” he said with a smirk. “But I promise I have a few tricks up my sleeve—nothing too embarrassing.”

“Just promise me no more betting, I’m out of chips for now.” she said, stern but unable to hide her smile.

“Cross my heart,” he promised dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “From here on out, it’s just me and you having honest and genuine fun.”

Their coffees had transformed into connection, a beautiful blend of camaraderie and flirtation. As they moved towards dessert, Minghao felt a spark growing between them.

With a playful glint in his eye, he decided to take a leap. “So, if we’re doing this—like, seeing where it goes, how about I take you on a mini-adventure next time? Something a little less…traditional?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “And what exactly does that entail? You are not talking about hiking, or something like that right? I would kill you.”

“A little scavenger hunt around the city?” he suggested, warming to the idea. “We could visit all the spots we love, and maybe even some new places. Get ice cream, take pictures, and just enjoy the day.”

Her face lit up with enthusiasm. “That sounds amazing. I love it.”

Seeing her excitement filled him with joy; this felt right. With their coffee date unfolding so smoothly, he was beginning to understand that this was not just about rekindling a spark but about building something new.

As they wrapped up, Minghao walked her to her car, and the atmosphere felt electric. Before saying goodbye, he couldn’t resist leaning in slightly. “If I promise to make each outing better than the last, will you promise to keep coming back?”

Y/n looked at him, her expression softening. “I think I can manage that, if you also kiss me” she replied, her smile brightening the evening.

With a renewed sense of hope, Minghao pulled her in from her waist kissing her multiple times before backing up slightly and letting her get into the driver's seat, she rolled down the window and wagged her finger at him for one more kiss, and then he watched her drive away, heart brimming with anticipation. He was ready to dive into this adventure, ready to explore whatever lay ahead with Y/n by his side. Their story was only just beginning, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like everything was falling into place.

Epilogue

The days that followed were an exciting blur of planning and anticipation. Minghao found himself digging into his old notebooks, jotting down ideas for the scavenger hunt, trying to think of all the little things that made their city special. He wanted to weave in personal touches that would make the day unforgettable for Y/n—places that could bring back memories of their first date or spots he knew would make her full of joy when he revealed them.

With each idea, he found he was not just planning an outing but also crafting an experience centered around her, and this realization filled him with a sense of purpose. He’d always believed that little moments could mean everything, and now he was eager to show Y/n just how much he cherished their new relationship.

When the day of the scavenger hunt arrived, Minghao woke up with a mix of nerves and excitement. He’d set everything in motion, and now all he needed to do was let the day unfold naturally. He picked a comfortable outfit—something relaxed but still appealing—and made his way to the meeting spot they had agreed on: a park that was alive with the sounds of laughter, children playing, and the distant strumming of a guitarist.

As he waited, he felt a buzz of anticipation in the air around him. The moment he spotted Y/n walking towards him, his heart soared. She looked radiant, her hair dancing in the breeze, and her smile lit up the entire park.

“Hey, you.” she greeted, a lilt in her voice that made him grin wider.

“Ready for a little adventure?” he asked, trying to mask the excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

“Absolutely. Just tell me what we’re doing,” she replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“First off, we have to get our scavenger hunt gear,” he said, pulling out a small tote bag he had packed. Inside were colored pencils,a camera for taking photos at each stop, a notebook for jotting down clues, and a list of locations they'd be visiting.

“What’s all this?” she laughed, peering inside with delight.

“Just some supplies to help us document our adventure” Minghao said cheerily. “The first stop is that little coffee stand we found last week, where they have the pastries.”

With a shared laugh and playful banter, they made their way through the park, stopping for pictures at every significant spot—an old oak tree where they took selfies, a fountain that they threw pennies in while making a wish, and a mural that had caught Minghao’s eye during their last outing. The connection between them deepened as they shared stories, memories, and more feelings than ever. As they reached the coffee stand, Minghao took a moment to watch her as she chose her pastry. She had a way of illuminating the boring everyday things, and he felt grateful every time she shot him a smile. After they got their treats, he pulled out the next clue.

“Okay, next up,” he said with excitement, glancing down at the list he had created. “We have to find the spot where they sell the best ice cream in town. But there’s a catch—you have to lead the way.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Me? Alright.. This should be interesting.”

With her leading the way, they began to navigate the streets, stopping to chat with street performers and peeking into quirky shops. As they reached the ice cream parlor, the enticing scent of waffle cones met them, and they quickly placed their orders.

“That is definitely a win,” Minghao said, savoring the first bite of his matcha chocolate chip. He looked over to see Y/n’s eyes light up with delight as she tasted her basic but cute vanilla with sprinkles.

As they sat outside, sharing stories about their favorite childhood flavors, Minghao felt a warmth spreading in his chest. Each moment they shared layered on a sense of intimacy, deepening their bond.

The rest of the day continued in this delightful fashion, each stop on the scavenger hunt bringing them closer together, transforming their connection into something rooted in genuine affection. The final clue led them to an overlook, a perfect sunset view of the city sprawled out before them.

As they stood side by side, overlooking the vibrant hues of orange and pink washed across the sky, Minghao turned to her, feeling the weight of the moment.

“I’m really glad I took this leap,” he said, his voice sincere. “Today has been incredible. You make everything better, including me.”

Y/n looked at him, her expression softening. “I feel the same way. This day has been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Really, thank you.”

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, he could feel the pull toward her. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle yet tender kiss. It was a clear promise of what was to come—not just in this moment, but in all the moments yet to unfold.

Standing there, as the last light of day faded into twilight, Minghao felt a newfound certainty settle within him. This was just the beginning of a beautiful adventure with Y/n, and he was ready to explore every twist and turn that life had to offer together.

Minghao had set out to lose a girl in ten days but instead found something he never expected: a genuine connection. As he and y/n embarked on their new adventure as one and they both realized that sometimes love sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and sometimes, the risks of opening your heart are worth every moment.

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nomie-11 · 12 days ago

Text

Chase After You - Part 2

masterlist! | part 1 | part 3

synopsis: vi is committed to making you believe in her as a soulmate, but you are having troubling believing in your own limits as her soulmate

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

After your unexpected (and mortifying) first meeting, you texted Vi just so she could have your number—not because you secretly wanted to hear from her—but just in case. You didn’t expect Vi to follow through on her declaration to get to know you. You thought she’d chalk you up as a lost cause after you bolted like a spooked animal. But instead, she texted you.

Every day.

Relentlessly.

And then she started texting you about meeting up, going out for dinner, hitting the gym together, all of these things that you weren’t sure you really wanted to do with her. And then she offered coffee after rotations, fitting herself perfectly into your existing rotation.

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the way Vi’s eyes lit up when you said “fine,” or the near instant relief you felt when your headaches faded around her. Either way, you regretted it almost instantly.

By the time the next Tuesday rolled around, you were second guessing everything. Caitlyn, however, wasn’t letting you back out.

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” she said, leaning on the doorway as you grabbed your work bag. “It’s just coffee. You’ve already met her. Plus, she’s been texting you all week like you’re her new best friend.”

“She’s not my best friend,” you muttered, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “And I’m not nervous.”

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “You’ve changed your shirt three times.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just coffee, right? Not a date.”

“Exactly,” Caitlyn agreed, though her smirk said otherwise. “But if it were a date, you’d totally nail it.”

You groaned, grabbing your jacket. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.”

She waved you off. “Have fun with your soulmate!”

You ignored her as you left, though her words played on a loop in your mind all the way to the coffee shop.

Vi was already waiting when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of her. She looked up the moment the door chimed, grinning as if she’d been waiting for this all day.

“Hey!” she called, waving you over. “Thought I’d grab you something—hope you like caramel macchiatos?”

You hesitated, standing awkwardly by the table. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

She nudged the chair across from herewith her foot, her grin widening. “Good guess, huh. Sit, relax. You look like you just ran a marathon.”

You muttered something under your breath but sat down anyway, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. Vi’s presence was… unnervingly comfortable, like you’d known her longer than a week.

“So,” she said, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand, “how was your rotation?”

“It was fine,” you replied, trying to sound neutral. “Busy.”

Vi nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Must be intense, though. I mean, clinicals and lectures? How do you even have time for… you know, a life?”

You shrugged, not sure how to answer. “I have three friends, so not much of a life.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at you, like she was piecing something together. Then she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, the muscles in her shoulder pulling tight. “Okay, so here’s the deal: coffee, twice a week. My treat. We’ll call it stress relief.”

You blinked. “What?”

“After your rotations,” she clarified. “We meet here, twice a week. No pressure, no soulmate talk, just… getting to know each other.”

You stared at her, unsure if you wanted to laugh or roll your eyes. “Why are you so insistent on this?”

Vi shrugged, her grin returning. “Because you’re worth the effort. And I think you’ll figure that out eventually.”

————————————

The first time Vi suggested ice skating, you thought she was joking. When she dragged you to the rink on your next ‘coffee date,’ you were certain it was a terrible idea.

“I don’t know how to skate,” you protested as she handed you a pair of rentals.

“That’s the fun part,” Vi said, already lacing hers up. “I’ll teach you.”

The first ten minutes were a disaster. You clung to the wall like your life depended on it, glaring at Vi every time she tried to coax you toward the center of the rink.

“You’re doing great!” She called, skating backward in front of you with infuriating ease.

“I hate this,” you muttered, taking a shaky step.

“You don’t hate it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just mad you’re not good at it yet.”

You glared at her, but her teasing grin was impossible to stay mad at. Slowly, she coaxed you away from the wall, her hands steadying yours as she guided you across the ice.

You cling to Vi like she was a lifeline, your legs wobbling uncontrollably beneath you. Every time you felt even a hint of balance the ice seemed to betray you, and you found yourself clutching her arms tighter.

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, squeezed your eyes shut as your skates slipped again. “I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.”

Vi laughed, the sound warm and genuine, echoing in the cold air. “You’re not going to die, Y/n. I’ve got you. Just trust me.”

That was the problem. You did trust her—too much, maybe. Every time her hands steadied you, everytime she smiled and said, “You’re doing great,” you felt the knot in your chest loosen just a little. And that was terrifying.

You stumbled again, and Vi caught you easily, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. “See?” She said, her voice soft. “Not so bad when you’ve got someone to hold on to.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with skating. the pink of her hair stood out against the pale blue lights of the link, and her eyes were so full of warmth and patience that it made your stomach twist. She looked at you like you were someone worth catching.

And that started you more than anything.

“Are you okay?” Vi asked, tilting her head as she noticed your silence.

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… trying not to snap my ankle.”

Vi smirked, her hands still warm on your waist. “Don’t worry. If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

You wanted to tell her that the falling wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the way she made you feel safe, the way she looked at you like you mattered. It was the way your soulmate bond tugged at your heart every time she smiled, like it was pulling toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But instead, you tightened your grip on her hands and said, “Okay, but if I fall, we’re both going down.”

Vi grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal. But only if you promise to let go of me and try on your own for a little longer.”

You groaned but nodded, letting her guide you across the ice again. This time, you didn’t fight the way your body leaned into hers, and for a few minutes, you almost forgot why this was supposed to scare you.

Almost.

——————————————

The rink was cold, loud, and way too busy for your liking when you walked through the doors for the second time. Vi had texted you the night before, practically begging you to come to her game, and just imagining her face when you showed up was enough to get you to come.

Vi had said for you to come early so she could meet you by the rink before she had to stretch and warm up so she could introduce you to some people.

Going to the game—not so scary. Meeting Vi’s friends? Terrifying.

By the time you arrived, your nerves were frayed. The rink was packed with players warming up, families gathering in the stands, and the faint smell of popcorn wafting through the air. You scanned the crowd, trying to spot Vi, your anxiety building with every second.

Then, you heard her.

“Y/n!”

Vi’s voice cut through the noise like a beacon, and you turned to see her weaving through the crowd, half-dressed in her hockey gear. Her helmet dangled from her hand, her skate guards clinking as she walked toward you. She had that same easy grin that she normally does, the one that somehow made you feel both at ease and completely overwhelmed.

“You made it!” she said, her voice warm with excitement. Before you could respond, she gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward a group near the benches. “Come on, there’s people I want you to meet.”

You barely had time to protest before you were standing in front of two women and a baby. One of them, a tall brunette with a mischievous glint in her eye, was also half-dressed in hockey gear and holding a squirming baby on her hip. The other, a slightly shorter woman with strong facial features and kind eyes, offered you a small, polite smile.

“This is Ellie,” Vi said, gesturing toward the taller woman. “She’s one of my best friends, and a total menace on the ice.”

Ellie snorted, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Don’t listen to her—she’d just mad I’m better at slap shots.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Anyway, this is Dina—Ellie’s soulmate.”

Dina laughed softly, reaching out to shake your hand. “Nice to finally put a face to the name. Vi’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Your face heated instantly. “Oh, um… nice to meet you, too.”

“And this,” Vi added, pointing to the baby, “is J.J. He’s kind of the star of the show.”

J.J. babbled happily, reaching for your necklace. You couldn’t help but smile as his tiny fingers grabbed onto it, tugging gently.

Oh my god, that is the cutest damn baby I’ve ever seen.

“You want to hold him?” Dina asked, tilting her head.

You hesitated, but Vi nudged your arm gently, catching the way your eyes lit up when J.J. aimlessly waved his hands in your face. “He won’t bite, I promise.”

With a nervous nod, you carefully took J.J. from Ellie, his weight settling gently onto your arms and chest. He looked up at you with wide, curious eyes, and despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips.

“There you go,” Dina said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve got the magic touch. He loves you.”

Vi watched you with a softness you weren’t used to, her gaze lingering as you shifted J.J. to your hip to make him more comfortable.

“You’re a total natural,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the loud whistle of the referee cut through the air, signaling the last warning before it was match time.

“That’s our cue,” Vi said, stepping closer to you. “Dina and J.J.’ll keep you company during the game. You’ll be fine.”

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. Vi’s hand brushed yours briefly before she grabbed her helmet and jogged off toward the ice, her pink hair bright against the deep blue and gold of her jersey.

Dina must have noticed your nerves, because she gave you a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s grab a spot. J.J. and I are pros at cheering for these two.”

Ellie laughed, pressing a kiss to Dina’s jaw before follow off after Vi, leaving you and Dina to make your way to the stands.

You settled into a seat with Dina and J.J. at your side, the baby happily gnawing on a teething ring while Dina explained the basics of the ame. You nodded along, half-listening, but your attention was on Vi. She was easy to spot—her pink hair stood out even with her helmet on, and her confident stride on the ice was impossible to miss.

When the game started, you quickly realized why Vi had been so insistent on inviting you. She was good. She was incredible. She was hot. Watching her skate was like watching someone entirely in their own element. She moved with a precision and intensity that was mesmerizing, weaving through players like they weren’t even there, her stick handling the puck with ease.

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning forward as she darted past three defenders and fired a shot straight into the net. The crowd erupted, and Dina gently covered J.J.’s ears to give a loud cheer.

“She’s pretty amazing, huh?” Dina said, her tone knowing.

You nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah. She it.”

For a moment, you forgot about the crowd, the noise, and the tug of your soulmate bond that always lingered when Vi was near. You just watched her, completely in awe of how effortless she made it look.

Then it happened—as she angled for the puck near the center of the rink, a player from the opposing team with a solid twenty pounds on Vi barreled into her at full speed, shoulder-checking her with enough force to send her sprawling to the ice.

The moment she hit the ground, pain exploded across your shoulder, sharp and searing. You gasped, clutching at your arm instinctively, the sensation so vivid it made your vision blur.

Dina turned to you, her expression concerned. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

You couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, and it was everywhere—radiating from your shoulder to your chest and back. Panic clawed at your throat as you struggled to breathe, your mind spinning with her pain.

“Y/n?” Dina’s voice was louder now, edged with worry.

“I—I have to go,” you stammered, standing abruptly. The movement sent another jolt of pain through your shoulder, but you ignored it, clutching the armrest for balance. “I’m sorry—I can’t—”

Before Dina could respond, you bolted, the sound of the crowd fading behind you as you rushed toward the exit. Your vision blurred with tears, your chest tight as you pushed through the doors and into the cold night air.

You had to get away.

—-------------------------------

The cafe smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon as you sank into your usual seat across from Vi. You were both quiet today—a rare occurrence. Your post-rotation coffee ritual had grown into something steady and comforting over the past few weeks. Twice a week, like clockwork, Vi would be waiting for you.

But today, there was a tension that clung to the air like static electricity.

“So,” Vi finally broke the silence, fiddling with the paper sleeve on her cup. “Another big game next weekend.”

You nodded absently, staring down at your drink. “Against Noxus Central University, right? I heard they’re brutal.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge. “Real bruises. Should be fun, though.”

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a neutral tone. “Fun, huh?”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your coffee.

She didn’t buy it. “Come on, Y/n. Spill.”

You hesitated, the words clawing at the back of your throat. “It’s just… you always come out of those games looking like you’ve been through a war zone. I mean—last weekend was brutal. I thought you broke your shoulder, and I’m the one who has to feel it.”

Her eyes widened, and her hand froze mid-fidget, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You set down the cup harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what crazy pain tolerance you have, but it felt like I was hit by a freight train. It’s a lot, Vi.”

Her jaw tightened. “You think I don’t feel bad about that? I don’t want you to hurt because of me.”

“Then maybe you should stop putting yourself in situations where it happens!” The words tumbled out louder than you intended, and you winced at your own tone.

Vi’s expression darkened, her easy going demeanor vanishing. “Are you seriously asking me to stop playing hockey?”

“I’m asking you to think about what it’s doing to me!”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping into something sharper. “And what about me, huh? Hockey’s my life, Y/n. It’s not just a game; it's who I am.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” You snapped, the words cutting like a knife even as you said them.

Vi recoiled, her blue eyes narrowing. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cut in. “Alright, what’s going on here?”

You looked up to see Ellie approaching, her gaze bouncing between you and Vi. SHe stopped next to Vi’s chair, crossing her arms. “You guys never argue like this.”

“I’m not the one making unreasonable demands,” Vi muttered glaring at her coffee.

“Unreasonable?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I’m not asking for much, Vi. Just for you to stop throwing yourself in the path of a warm machine. Do you know what it's like to feel like your body isn’t your own because your soulmate tosses herself around recklessly.”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t intervene. Not yet.

Vi’s face twisted with frustration. “And do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly apologizing for just existing? For doing what I love? I can’t just stop being me, Y/n. Hockey’s my first love.”

“Maybe I don’t want a soulmate then!” The words erupted before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, the room seemed to freeze.

Vi’s expression crumbled, and Ellie’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the suffocating silence that followed.

“Y/n,” Vi said softly, her voice cracking just enough for you to hear. “You don’t mean that. I thought we were past that.”

You wanted to take it back, you wanted to take it back so badly, but the floodgates had opened. “I don’t believe in soulmates, Vi. I don’t and I never have. And Honestly? This—us—it’s just proving why I was right. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

Ellie stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Y/n, you’re upset. Maybe take a second before you say something you can’t take back.”

“I already said it,” you whispered, your chest tight. “And it’s true.”

Vi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t believe in soulmates? After all I’ve done to try to prove to you that this could work?”

You stood too, unable to stay still under the weight of her gaze. “You think this is easy for me? It’s not! I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m enough, and now I’m supposed to be enough for you? Someone who’s fearless and— and perfect, and doesn’t need me slowing her down?”

“Slowing me down!?” Vi’s voice rose, incredulous. “You think that’s how I see you? God, Y/n, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… what I do.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one compromising?” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” she said, her tone softer but no less urgent. “I’m just asking you to please, give this a chance. Stop being so defensive.”

“And I’m asking you to understand that I can’t keep waking up in pain every time you decide to throw yourself into a fight on the ice!”

Ellie stepped between you, her hands up. “Okay, let’s all take a breath here—”

“No,” Vi said, her voice breaking. “If she doesn’t want this, then fine.”

“Vi—” Ellie tried, but Vi was already grabbing her jacket.

“Stop, Ellie,” Vi said, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “Come on.”

You stood frozen, tears stinging your eyes as she walked out the door, Ellie close on her heels.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Caitlyn appeared moments later, a confused expression on her face. “Where did everyone go?”

You just shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

Fuck.

this is the second part in a three part series! read part 1 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#vi x fem reader #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #piltover's gayest

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cherrycranes · 22 days ago

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Dream Girl 2 (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You've been video calling Neil for quite some time now, and finally, you decide it's time to go to Gumshoe Video to meet your biggest fan. Word count: 5,211 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl. Fluff & smut, praise, unprotected sex, cream pie. Author's notes: Finally, the promised part 2 of this fic, and a collab with queen @fuckiingloser. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Pinterest moodboard at the bottom to help you visualize <3

It had been over a month ago. The initial video call with Neil had blossomed into three more that were, of course, free of charge and highly anticipated by the butterflies in your stomach. Every time they seemed to get better. Skype was replaced by facetime for much more efficiency and besides the expected masturbation and flirtations, there were also laughter and long conversations that would mostly surpass the time spent jerking off.

After his softly declined attempt on that first call, Neil never brought up meeting again, afraid of scaring you away. Whenever the idea of just how desperate and rushed he must have looked came to memory, he chastised himself. A phenomenon that increased in frequency the longer he spent calling you. You were unbelievable, and you deserved the best of the best. His best self too… Put in a very critical situation, Neil had started to accept that he had a huge crush on you that grew the more he got to know about you. He could have sworn he physically felt it in his chest when, one day, you told him your name. Your real name.

Unbeknownst to him, you felt it too. Everything, in fact. Your previous experiences kept your feelings much better hidden but never cut them off. Neil was just everything you never saw in men. Sweet, cute, emotionally intelligent… His very presence made you realize just how awful, narcissistic and selfish every guy you had dated before was.

There was something so refreshing about talking with a man whose desire to hear you moan coexisted perfectly fine with his genuine want to hear you speak. You were so beautiful and also so great to talk with. Neil seemed to know that, and it was way too good. Probably the real reason why you intended to keep your feelings at bay, despite the butterflies everytime he popped on your screen.

Also, there was your own need for safety. No matter how sweet, Neil was still a man and a subscriber. Disclosing too much personal information was a no-go, but you found yourself stuck in the dilemma of wanting him to know you better and wanting to keep some privacy.

You had a facetime scheduled for the next day, despite your cautions you were obviously excited. A cute little purple set Neil would absolutely love hung in anticipation on your closet door at home while you ran some errands, then, a little notification sound distracted you and brought you the news:

“hey beautiful, i’m so so sorry to do this… but one of my employees had a family emergency and can’t cover their shift tomorrow at the store. no one can cover so i have to work unfortunately. i’m so sorry. i hope you’re not upset with me… i was really looking forward to seeing you. hoping we can reschedule?” - neil

Your face fell a bit upon reading that, still, you understood. He had a business to run and was probably much more upset than you. After a pleasantly soothing reply and a request for a needed reschedule, you carried on. A few seconds and you already missed him, even if you wouldn't show it.

Night fell upon you, you crawled into your baby pink bed with your head reeling and Neil occupying every thought. One impulse was enough to get you to open google maps on your phone and type two words on the search bar: Gumshoe Video.

35 minutes away.

The highlighted blue showed you a different set of routes and transports you could use to get there. To get to him. Gears spun inside your head and then, your own mind locked your phone off.

That night you tossed and turned in bed for what seemed hours, overthinking it all until sleep finally took over. In the morning Neil still lingered on as you went about your usual routine. The more you pushed him to the back of your head, the stronger he returned.

Still reeling, you logged into your Onlyfans for some everyday work. When you checked your messages, skipped the creepy ones and answered to politer ones, you found one from Neil sent that morning in response to a lingerie selfie you had sent out the night before.

“god you are the most stunning woman on the planet…”

Heat rushed to your face, smiling at your screen like a schoolgirl overcome with tenderness until something clicked in your brain.

It had to be today.

Pretty much on autopilot and running on adrenaline, you scavenged your closet and tried on five different outfits, finally satisfied with a little pink top with a tiny bow in the middle and a short jean skirt perfect for a hot summer night and for pale blue eyes that loved you in pink. After redoing your hair twice and finding a beautiful reflection in the mirror, you got hold of your bag and phone and headed out towards the train station. Fast enough to not have time to psych yourself out and do a 180 turn back home.

The train ride to the closest station to Gumshoe Video was when the doubts started to pop in your head. Questions about your own sanity or about how normal your actions were floated all around you the closer it got you to him. Did you make the right choice? Would he be actually glad to see you? What if your arrival annoyed him? Who just shows up somewhere unannounced after previously rejecting someone? Were you fucking insane?

As you looked out at the city skyline and the war in your mind raged on something persisted: that beautiful smile of plump rosy lips and an endearingly crooked tooth on his lower jaw, that voice with warm undertones and sometimes little purrs, those beautiful eyes of blue that made you think of clear spring skies.

Not going would be insane.

****

Around 8 pm, at a very dead Gumshoe Video, Neil stood behind the counter. Bored. Absentmindedly, he seeked some entertainment by processing a few returned tapes and sometimes glancing towards the tv in the corner to catch a glimpse of the movie playing.

He was dressed in a ridiculous jail jumpsuit costume as a way to promote the sale going on at the store that weekend. However, despite his efforts and the resourceful way he had thematically decorated his store, there were a million things he’d rather be doing on a Saturday night than be there. One in particular. Seeing his favorite girl. Watching her smile, listening to her laughter and her pretty moans…

But alas, instead of jerking off with her, he was there, all alone. Painfully aware that it would go on and on. The beautiful summer night invited people to go do anything else that wasn’t renting movies from his little store, and he knew it. Still, he couldn’t afford to go home, just in case somebody crazy or socially dead enough decided to actually come in and rent something to watch at home.

Once all the tapes were processed and back inside their cardboard or plastic sleeves, Neil disappeared into the backroom, a ring of the doorbell interrupting his thoughts.

“I'll be right out...” He called out loudly, pushing the last batch of tapes onto the shelf and pulling one out he had forgotten he had. With his gaze fixed on the synopsis, he walked back into the store to greet the customer, his heart immediately stopping when the arial print letters were replaced by the sight of an angel.

That pretty hair, those lovely eyes, a little pink top and a little short jean skirt hugging that beautiful body… It was you. Actually you.

Neil’s eyes went as wide as they could, his body froze in place for the second he spent wondering if it was his mind playing tricks on him or not. You exchanged gazes the whole time. Your hands shook like a leaf and your heart pumped madly in an anticipatory crescendo, the lines between being a tangible reality and an internet fantasy completely blurred. A part of you started to wonder just how welcomed you were or, in a rush of pure anxiety, if he was disappointed in any way.

“Hi.” You finally whispered, testing the waters and breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence. You saw the way his spit went down his throat in a gulp of preparation and how his eyelashes fluttered twice before he finally had the courage to speak.

“You… You’re here…” Neil was in pure, utter, cute, adorable disbelief, and it got a smile and a small laugh from you.

“I am… I just wanted to see you… I took the train…” You rambled, with your head still fuzzy.

In between your own whirlwind of beautiful yet heart-thumping feelings, Neil finally walked up to you, forgetting all about the vhs tape on his hands and automatically setting it aside. Instead, his focus was on you, the very few inches between you two, the way you looked at him and studied his face up close, finally free of the veil of the computer screen. God, he was even better looking in person. His eyes were bluer, hypnotizing. His lips looked even rosier and he had cute light freckles that the camera had failed to capture. You just hoped that the amazement was mutual.

Looking down at you with those sweet pale eyes, he held your gaze, the knowledge that you were real, that you were here finally settling in.

“You are so gorgeous… Even more so in person…” He whispered, his hand already reaching out to touch yours ever so gently, just to make sure he wasn’t actually mistaken about your tangibility.

For the first time in what you were sure was forever, you got shy. Your head lowered and your face burned. Gentle sparks filled your stomach as he came up to use a finger to tilt your chin up.

“Don’t hide from me…” he whispered gently.

Smiling softly, you looked into his eyes.

“I can't believe you’re here” Neil continued, his voice soft and adoring.

“I know it's kind of crazy of me to just show up but… I was just sad you couldn’t make our call…” Your voice was just as soft, his fingers laced with yours like they were meant to be there.

“I was upset too about missing it… I had been looking forward to it all week…” He admitted with a soft smile. “But now I'm even happier you’re here… You are so beautiful.” God, he was just the sweetest thing on earth. The kindest man you had ever met.

After the initial feelings, you finally allowed your eyes to discover your surroundings. Gumshoe Video was a small, cute, kitschy and very Neil Lewisesque store that the google maps pictures didn’t do justice. It was truly him transformed into a place.

“I love the store…” You smiled, your sight drawn to the tv and the old movie playing: Brief Encounter.

“I've had it on at the store for almost a month… It makes me think of you…” Neil admitted, a callback to your first call that made your heart burst.

“I love the outfit too…” Now you confessed, visions of gray and white stripes making you chuckle. “Prison Break vibes…” Your joke lightened the mood, he shook his head in sweet embarrassment.

“If I would have known you’d be here… I would have never worn it…” He chuckled, Brief Encounter in the background took over for a moment as he took your presence in and embraced it.

“We close in about an hour but I could close up a little early… It’s dead anyway. Maybe we could… I don't know… Maybe watch a movie together?” He finally gathered the courage to speak with a nervous and hopeful smile. Butterflies flew wildly in your stomach and the answer was obvious.

“Yeah, I'd love that…” With that, Neil stepped away to lock the door and turn the open sign off. Officially, he was all yours for the night.

“Let me get out of this stupid costume… Go ahead and pick anything you want to watch, I'll be right back...” Neil and all his sweet smile disappeared into the back of the store, leaving you to browse the store and run your well manicured fingers over the spines of the vhs tapes. Every touch to the smooth plastic only reassured you, you were really there… with him, in all his simple short sleeve button up, black pants and converse glory that returned to the store. He was so casual yet so hot, everything yours tingled when he came over to you.

“Seeing anything you like?” He flashed you that pretty smile once again, nearly distracting you from the mental lists of titles you found interesting.

“Seeing a few things I like…” You flirted a little as you looked right at him, less shy than earlier and coming back to yourself. A rush of satisfaction took over you when he blushed a bit.

“What about Notting Hill?” You pulled the respective tape off the shelf with a perfectly convincing smile.

“Good pick… Very fitting for our dynamic I suppose… Just a few minor differences…” Neil winked, taking the tape and going straight to put the movie on for you. Getting comfortable on the couch, a little excited smirk formed upon your lips when he turned off the lights, making it so the tv, the sun setting outside and the numerous neon signs inside the store gave the room a dull sensual glow.

Eventually, he sat down next to you exuding both anxiety and adoration… You were his dream girl after all… And you were in his store, on his couch, watching a romantic movie… Anything could happen…

He pressed play on the remote and you settled in, despite this being the first meeting in the flesh you felt like you belonged in his presence.

Notting Hill rolled on and despite everything, you were focused on Neil only. His refined side profile glowed with the colors on the screen. His soft brown curls, his pink lips, and pretty blue eyes drew you in more than any movie could, no matter how great. Still, it would have been rude to not pay attention to Julia Roberts, so you snapped out of it and returned to the story… Or at least you tried.

Neil’s big hand moved to touch your exposed thigh, making your breath hitch slightly. Despite how sudden it was, the touch was so soft, so reverent, and, quite honestly, arousing. The purple lace beneath your skirt dampened. All those nights you touched yourself and imagined his hands on you seemed so distant now that you were finally there, with him.

Did you really want to waste time?

Your eyes met in the dim light, the tension between you surviving off the licks to his own lips and the glances you gave to them. When he did the same to you, no words were needed.

You leaned in fast, your lips finally meeting after desiring each other for so long. Electricity ran wild between your bodies, from the tips of your meeting tongues to the tips of your fingers on the back of his neck. Neil groaned softly yet gripped your thigh hard, just in case you wanted to vanish into thin air and leave him longing forever for this hot, sensual, passionate kiss you were sharing. To his relief, you got into his lap, proving to him again just how real everything was. Your tiny jean skirt rolled up even higher as you straddled his thighs, finishing with the last supply of air he had in his lungs. He had to pull back, admiring you between ragged breaths.

“Fuck you are so hot…” Neil rasped almost in disbelief, hands on your sides and cock twitching to life in his jeans. The tempting flesh of your ass got a soft squeeze that made you moan, his eyes traced a path of adoration from your parted lips all the way down to your cleavage.

“These perfect tits…” He whispered, his hand cupping one over the flimsy tank top you took ages to select and had proven to be the right choice. He squeezed it gently, his thumb rubbing over your hard nipple gently. “You are unreal…”

With the eagerness to please he had and all the amazement you felt at his sweetness and passion, you found yourself lost in his kiss again, grinding against his lap. Neil moaned into your mouth when your hand snaked between you and squeezed the bulge in his pants. You had seen it before, you knew it was a sizable handful but no amount of pixels could actually prepare you for the feeling of it, for the way it twitched beneath the denim and your moving hand when you bit his lower lip.

“We-we should move this to my office…” Neil stammered right after pulling back for air. “Anyone can see through the front windows…” He panted.

“Mmm, naughty naughty….” You smirked, play-pretending to scold him with that sensual tone of voice he adored. “You wanna fuck me over your desk, huh?”.

Neil’s baby blues widened a bit and he nodded with a shortness of breath.

“Jesus, yes- more than anything…” He breathed.

“Well…Looks like it’s your lucky day…” Getting off his lap, you offered him a hand and a sexy smirk.

“Today’s already been the best day of my life… This is just the cherry on top…” He took your hand, once he was standing he wrapped an arm around you and kissed you all the way to his little office in the back. A cute, dorky, perfect cozy space that was just like him and was going to bear witness to what could happen between you behind closed (and cautiously locked) doors.

You sat on top of his desk like a throne, leaned back on your elbows just to show him everything he was about to have.

“Fuuuck me.” Neil groaned at the sight. “I need this little skirt gone…” As direct as his words, his hand undid the bronze button and zipper and tugged the denim down to your thighs before losing it somewhere. Your little purple lace thong greeted his hungry eyes and blessed his fingertip.

“Feels so good to touch after so long of just watching…” Adoring disbelief filled each of Neil’s words, sending a pulse of desire straight to your core. You looked at him, the way he stood between your parted legs and soaked in the feeling of having you laid out on his desk for him.

“Felt good to touch your cock for the first time after just watching… Felt good in my hand… Can’t imagine how good it’ll feel when you fuck me with it…” You purred, your desire for his touch speaking through your mouth.

He smirked, fingers hooking on the purple band of your thong and taking it to meet your lost skirt. The pink tank top followed not long after, leaving you completely naked on the cool wooden surface.

He nearly made his lip bleed from how hard he bit it, the sight of your perfect pussy and tits worth every second of wait, more so now in the flesh, in front of him and ready.

Neil wasn’t a virgin by any means, yet his short relationships were absolutely nothing now. No previous partner, hell, not even the unreachable movie stars that he adored could ever come close to you. And he had something clear, it was not the time to shy away. It was his chance with the girl of his dreams and he would make it count.

“Jesus…” He breathed out, index and middle fingers gently parting your folds and delighting in just how wet he found you, his cock already leaking in his boxers.

“All for you…” You purred those familiar words that his speakers had whispered to him many nights before and now felt much sweeter coming straight from your lips. He smiled. All for him…

His hands immediately found his belt and did the magic trick. Belt, pants and boxers all gone in a few moments, his thick, perfectly curved, aching cock bobbing free finally. You bit your lip now, groaning at the sight of him in person, no computer screen.

“Wow…” You whispered, a bead of precum seeping from his tip, your cunt clenching around nothing. Obviously, you weren’t a virgin either, but after doing solo stuff for only fans for so long and not fucking somebody in almost a year, you were just as needy as one.

“Big enough for you?” He smirked a little, his lust filled eyes mirrored by yours. You nodded with a cheeky smile. “Condom?” He asked. “I have one in here in a drawer somewhere…” he rambled, opening a desk drawer midway through and being stopped by your hand.

“I'm on the pill… I wanna feel you… All of you…” Your sensual whisper nearly sent him over the edge, his breath hitching.

“Fuck..” He whispered to himself, anticipation seeping through. Every inch he got closer to you was an inch that was driving him crazy. When he pulled you to the edge of his desk, his leaking tip nudged your pussy and coaxed a little moan from you. You were ready, so ready. And from the way your hearts were beating, this felt like more than just a hookup.

A gasp escaped from your lips, his cock parted you and easily slided in from just how wet you were, all the way in until his hips kissed the inside of your thighs so intimately.

“Oh my god…” He groaned, eyes of blue closing and head of dark brown curls falling back. You were right, big enough for you, stretching you out a bit. “You feel…” He trailed off looking back down to watch himself push deeper. “You feel like heaven…” he almost whimpered.

You moaned louder and he filled you even fuller, finally hitting the deepest part. Locking both your gazes he laid down on top of you, face to face, squishing your tits against his clothed chest. A hot kiss took care of your sweet lips right before he started to move with an adoring slowness.

Grabbing a handful of his t-shirt, you urged him on, asking your skin to intertwine with his and feeling every bit of him with this slow pace. Neil pulled back from the kiss, lips hovering over yours, hips pistoning a little faster.

“You feel so fucking good…” He whispered into your lips. “So tight and fucking hot…”

The word “hot” mixed with a loud moan from you, your mouth hung open to catch more of his fiery licks. With the increasing speed, Neil found the right pace. The rightest, most delicious pace that didn’t leave you wishing for more nor hurt you from its urgency. It was just perfect.

“Neil…” You whimpered, a hand tangling in his curls and guiding his head to rest in the crevice of your neck where he planted hot, wet kisses. You arched into him, into his thrusts and addictive touch. Finally knowing what it was like.

From the crevice to your ear, Neil nibbled, kissed and licked, his warm breath tickled your lobe before whispering softly.

“You are so perfect… I just wanna make you come… Make you feel so good…” You moaned in response, all the never-felt-before passion and attention nearly taking the words off you. “I want this pretty pussy to come all over my cock baby…” your wet, fluttering pussy clenched to the beat of those words, luring him and making him groan too.

“I want you to come too…” With your capacity to string a coherent sentence back, you whined. You were begging so softly, squeezing him so needily, taking him to places he only saw in his fantasies, and making him feel so aware of how little he was going to last.

He moved his hips faster, reflecting your own desperation for sweet release. Skin slapped against skin and filled the room with erotic noises you didn’t even fully process from the feeling of everything combined. Neil pulled back, standing to fuck you onto the desk and giving you a good view. Big hands gripped your hips for support and he pounded into you, making the delicious flesh of your tits bounce and the tip of his cock hit the right places.

“Fuck me… You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen...” He groaned out of breath, sweetly worming into your ears and hooking you to his praises forever. That familiar pressure tightened your lower abdomen and made you whimper.Addicted, Neil went back to lay chest to chest with you, not wanting to miss a thing. The tips of your noses gently rubbed together, mingling your breaths, his cock speared you over and over again and as much as it could with the way you had his hips held with your legs. He went deeper, impossibly deeper.

“Oh fuck.. I-I’m not gonna last much longer baby… You feel so fucking good…” His warning whisper kissed you on the lips, the proof manifested in the form of urgent snaps of his hips.

“I'm-I’m close too, Neil…” You whimpered, eyes half lidded. “Please, come deep…” And those three words were enough to make his mind go blank.

The ultimate fantasy, the dream girl, the actual dream. Begging him, him, to come inside her. Neil never once stood a chance at holding out. Thick digits snaked between you and thumbed your clit in hard, reason-killing circles. So hard, so intense, you nearly confused the light freckles on his face with stars.

“Come for me baby…” he panted softly, begging you.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the pressure in your depths bubbled over and spilled. Your loud moan reverberated in the small room and enveloped you, the sound waves rippled over the curve of your arching back and traced the shape of your hands clawing at him over his shirt.

“Holy shit…” He groaned at the feeling of your already tight cunt clenching him even tighter. “Fuck, i’m coming too...” he confessed with a straining voice. His eyes shut tight and his hips slowed to a stop when his aching cock pulsed with need inside you.

His pretty face buried against your neck and left an offering of loving kisses and soft whispered praises as you rode out your orgasms together.

“Oh my god… Take it all baby… I think this pussy was made for me…” He whispered, peppering kiss after kiss on your skin and painting your pussy white. Your eager spasms made sure that not a single drop was left without your intoxicating warmth.

When you both finished and his ragged breaths caressed your neck, he remained there, buried deep inside and fully processing it all, rosy lips still kissing you. Once he had recovered enough air, he gazed into your eyes, gave you one last kiss while still connected with you and finally pulled out.

He was amazed and wide eyed, his hot cum seeping out of your pussy was truly a sight plucked straight from his dreams, and you were well aware.

“How does it look?” You whispered with what little breath you had. Neil took a second to answer, having to blink the hypnosis of your leaking cunt away from his eyes just to be able to find words inside his brain.

“It looks incredible…” With a husky voice and disbelief, he whispered. He had never fucked anyone raw before, much less came inside them… Something inside him had been stirred and changed forever and he didn’t even have all the words he would need to describe it.

You looked him over, he eventually had to stop studying the creampie he had given you just to admire the rest of your beauty sprawled out on his desk just for him. Something upon his face irradiated love and amazement.

There was a random movie t-shirt in his office that he was grateful he had there, he gently used it to clean you up and, unknowingly, confirm once more just how sweet he was. Any other man would have thrown it at you and made you do it yourself. Neil would never. He wiped with so much care until everything between and beneath you was clean and the t-shirt balled up and tossed aside.

Next, he got dressed, tucking his tired and well spent cock back into his pants, just decent enough to bend down and gather every piece of your clothing strewn all over his office. He handed them to you so kindly, keeping his eyes on you until you were dressed again and he could break the silence.

“That was…” He started to speak, almost distracted by the way you walked up to him and wrapped your loving arms around his neck.

“Perfect?” You finished his sentence with a smile. He laughed, arms wrapping around your hips.

“I was gonna say a dream come true… but perfect works too…” Neil whispered with his face only inches apart from yours, inciting you into a lovingly intimate butterfly kiss and then a little peck. Pulling back, he tucked a portion of your hair behind your ear and with the same hand cupped your cheek. So delicately. You were precious to him.

“Would you like to come back to my place? Spend the night? I live right down the road… I just want to hold you… If not i understa-“ he started and you cut him off, sure of your answer this time.

“I'd love to.” You said immediately, enjoying the way his eyes lit up.

No more hiding from your feelings for him. No more pretending you didn’t reciprocate.

“Are you ready to go then?” He asked softly, like the gentleman he was and had always been since day one. Smiling, you took his hand, letting him guide you to the back exit, until you sat on the passenger’s seat of his car. In front of the steering wheel, he took a second to admire you, to, once again, confirm that you were real. Not thinking about it, he leaned over the center console and gave you a soft kiss before he took you to his place.

“Sorry… I just had to…” He said so sweetly you could have melted all over the seats and console. You gave him another little kiss for good measure, and you buckled in, sightseeing the suburbs until a forest green house with the number 621 appeared in the distance.

You couldn’t help but wonder how things would go in there. How would you feel in the morning? How would he feel in the morning? Was the mystery and fantasy over now that he had gotten a taste? Now that it was clear you were into him, was the high of chase over for him? What would happen now that it’s all real life? What's next for you?

Thoughts swirled in your head and before you realized it, he was pulling into his driveway, giving your hand a little squeeze.

“We’re here.” He said, turning to look at you with that perfect bright smile you’ve loved since your first call. “You ready to go inside, beautiful?”

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gotham-ruaidh · 14 days ago

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this passage is one of my favorite Jamie and Claire conversations in all of the books. more than anything else it shows how much they love and understand each other. how thrilling to see this so wonderfully adapted in 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"!

“Sassenach? Are ye all right?” A segment of the darkness on the floor moved suddenly and resolved itself into a Jamie-shaped shadow.

“Yes. Are you?”

That got me the breath of a laugh.

“I’ll do, Sassenach,” he said softly, and I heard the rustle of his movement as he got his feet under him. “I’m glad ye feel well enough to ask. D’ye need water?”

“Er . . . rather the opposite, really,” I said.

“Oh? Oh.” He stooped, a pale blur in his shirt, to reach under the bed. “D’ye need help?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have waked you up,” I said, a little testily. “I didn’t think I could wait for Mrs. Macken or Dottie, though.” He snorted a little and got me under the arms, lifting me into a sitting position.

“Now, then,” he murmured. “It’s no like ye’ve not done this—and a good many worse things—for me.”

While this was true, it didn’t make matters easier.

“You can let go now,” I said.

“Perhaps leave the room?”

“Perhaps not,” he said, still mildly, but with a tone indicating that his mind was made up on the subject. “If I let go, ye’ll fall on your face, and ye ken that perfectly well, so stop talkin’ and be about your business now, aye?”

It took some time—anything that put pressure on my abdomen, including the act of urinating, hurt remarkably—but the business was accomplished and I was eased back down onto the pillow, gasping. Jamie bent and picked up the chamber pot, clearly intending to hurl the contents out the window in customary Edinburgh fashion.

“No, wait!” I said. “Keep that ’til morning.”

He paused.

“What for?” he asked cautiously. Clearly he suspected I might still be unhinged from fever and be contemplating some grossly irrational use of the pot’s contents, but he didn’t like to say so, in case I had something logical, if bizarre, in mind. I would have laughed, but it hurt too much.

“I need to check, once there’s light, to be sure there’s no blood,” I said. “My right kidney’s very sore; I want to be sure there’s no damage.”

“Ah.” He set the utensil down carefully and, to my surprise, opened the door and glided out, moving soft-footed as a hunting fox. I heard one squeak as he stepped on a stair tread, but nothing more until a glow betokened his return with a candlestick.

“Have a look, then,” he said, picking up the pot again and bringing it to me. “I kent ye’d just fret about it did ye have to wait for daybreak.”

He sounded resigned, but this small thoughtfulness brought me close to tears. He heard the catch in my breathing and leaned close, alarmed, bringing the light up to my face.

“Are ye all right, Sassenach? Is it bad, then?”

“No,” I said, and wiped my eyes hastily on a corner of the sheet. “No—it—it’s fine. I just —oh, Jamie, I love you!”

-- Written In My Own Heart's Blood

#outlander #outlander 07x16 #jamie and claire #epic love #written in my own heart's blood

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pipwritesoccasionally · 6 months ago

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midnight emotions (two little lines pt. 2)

in which your stepson has a bad dream and you feel guilty.

this one has less to do with your pregnancy but it is still relevant!

toji x reader (same stuff from last time applies, technically AFAB because of pregnancy but it's also a world with sorcery so I am not here to stop AMAB people. kept it pretty gender neutral, but let me know if it doesn't seem like it.)

wc: 850

pt. 1 pt.3

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

the darkness floods your eyes as you blink awake for the second time that night. body aching, you roll over, feet fluffing the carpet of you and toji’s bedroom. your arms reach up, exposing your growing stomach to the cold air.

as you stand, the bed creaks, and you hear your husband groan.

“doll?” his voice is low from sleep, and you place your hand on his arm.

“i’m good. i just have to pee.”

“again? you went two hours ago,” you’d never think that toji could be so whiny, but it sure was a very cute surprise.

“babe, a whole human is growing next to my bladder. i’m going to be peeing all the time for the next few months,” you chuckle, and you hear him roll over on the bed.

“fine. see you soon.”

with that, you begin your walk to the bathroom, able to navigate the dark hallways perfectly after following this routine for weeks. after doing your business, you walk back down the hall, but this time you find that it’s much easier.

in fact, there’s a light on in one of the bedrooms, which you quickly discern to be megumi’s. you knock, hearing a little “come in” on the other side.

“megumi? what are you doing up?” you whisper, seeing him sitting up in bed. he furiously rubs his hands with his face, and the sight brings tears to your eyes.

“i…had a bad dream.” he says, his little voice full of sadness. you move to kneel next to his bed, hoping to reassure him.

“what happened? you can talk to me about it, if you want. or i can get your dad if you’d prefer.” he shakes his head, but still seems to hesitate.

“dad’s not going to…leave us, will he?” worry strikes through you.

“never. what would make you think that?”

“i don’t know, i guess i just wish we could see him more. he’s always pretty busy and only comes home for dinner.” another tear falls down his little face, and you can feel one mirror on your own. curse your hormones.

“he’s busy, yes, but it’s because he’s trying to provide for you as best as he can. he just wants you to be happy,” megumi nods, but you can see that there’s still something on his mind.

“it’s just that…when the baby comes, will he still have time for us?” your heart brakes at his statement, guilt shattering you.

“of course he will. i promise you that he will always have time for you. he can be gruff, but he loves you.”

“pinky promise?” he holds his little pinky out, and you immediately hook your much larger one around it.

“pinky promise. now go back to bed. if you’re tired in the morning, let me know and i’ll call you out of school.” he nods, and you walk to the door, turning his light off.

“sleep tight kiddo.” the door closes with a soft click!, and you immediately head back to your shared bedroom. your face feels wet, and you realize belatedly that you’d been crying.

the bed is comforting, but you feel your breaths come out shakily.

“doll? what’s wrong?” you jump, not realizing your husband’s still awake, and scoot in closer.

“megumi’s worried that you won’t have time for him once the baby comes, and i feel so guilty. i didn’t even think about how this would affect them.” you’re hiccuping now, and his large hand comes to rest on your back.

“you didn’t do anything wrong, i should be here more for them.” he whispers, and you shake your head.

“no, you’re just doing what you can to help us.” he sighs, and you place your head on his chest.

“yeah, but maybe it’s not enough. i’ll try to cut back on how many jobs i take weekly so i can be here more. we make more than enough money between the two of us anyways.”

you hum, remembering exactly why you fell in love with him all those years ago. he isn’t exactly the most open person, but he does love his kids in his own way.

“you need to stop being so cute. this isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he snorts, squeezing you lightly.

“cute, huh? never thought someone would call me cute,” you laugh at him, wrapping your arms around his body.

“why wouldn’t they? you just ooze cuteness, from your thick biceps and rippling abs-”

“i’m starting to think you might be in love with me.” you can just hear the grin in his voice, and you move to roll away before one of his strong arms stops you.

“ah-ah,” he tuts, “need my doll next to me so i can protect her.”

“you sure you’re not the one in love with me?” his chest is firm as you run your fingers across it.

“you wish,” he presses a kiss against your temple, and your body heats up. you huff, feigning annoyance, and his hand comes to cup your face.

“fine. i might be in love with you. just a little bit."

#anime #jjk x reader #manga #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji angst ish #toji fushiguro #pipwritesoccasionally

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bless-my-demons · 10 months ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Taglist part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @Cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #female reader insert

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moirasdolly · 4 months ago

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˚ ⋆ﾟ୨୧ Vampire Heart ୨୧ ˚ ⋆ﾟ Arlecchino x Fem Reader

Synopsis: You had gotten all dolled up for Arlecchino expecting a long night full of many surprises. You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into until it was too late, but you find yourself ignoring the other woman’s red flags.

Contains: NSFW (men and minors dni), graphic depictions of blood sucking, hurt/comfort (only slight angst).

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: …baby one more time - The Marías

Previous chapter: 2

Notes: Just a quick update before the blood sucking ૮₍ - ⤙ - ₎ა I thought I’d bring this fic back just in time for spooky season !! I’m definitely going to try to finish it by the end of October, but for now please enjoy this chapter <3

❤︎ Chapter 3: Fangs

Arlecchino had no trouble drinking in your pretty, doll-like appearance as you laid in the mountain of frilly blankets covering your bed. She thought you looked cuter than anyone she had ever seen with the way you were peering up at her through your long, dark lashes. It was taking all she had in her to not just pounce on you the moment she stepped through the threshold of your room.

You had giggled softly at her staring and if she thought you couldn’t get even cuter, she was mistaken. Her gaze followed your hand down to where it was patting the empty space beside you, and if you were insisting, then who was she to refuse? She easily slid into the bed beside you leaving you no personal space. She was oddly cold, you thought to yourself, maybe she just naturally ran cold… You paid that no mind though and instead you favored cuddling up to her to try to warm her up since you were feeling a bit bolder about initiating contact.. “Arle… You’re freezing.” A pout graced your lips and she simply shook her head at you. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, I’m perfectly fine as long as I have you warming me up.”

At her words you draped one of your legs around her own and nuzzled closer to her, letting your head rest gently on her chest. You hadn’t considered that the neckline of her slip plunged low on her chest, so when your cheek made contact with her bare skin, you felt your body heating up. Arlecchino felt it too because you heard a deep chuckle from within her throat as she ran her lithe fingers up and down your lower back. “Are you getting shy now? Cute.” Her tone wasn’t exactly mocking, but the way her voice lilted up at the end made it feel like she was trying to work you up.

“I bet you weren't shy when you were snooping through my belongings earlier.” Her tone darkened and your body went rigid at her words before you pushed yourself away from her. You stayed silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to defend yourself. You knew there was no defending yourself though, it was clearly wrong going through her possessions. “I-I…” You started, not sure how to continue. Your eyes were searching her own for any sign of warmth, but you were met with a face of indifference. She was incredibly hard to read, and it was making you nervous just how quick her demeanor could change.

“I’m sorry, I was just so curious about you, you were so secretive about certain things I wanted to know about you.” Your lip was quivering as you spoke, and Arlecchino stayed silent, seeingly contemplating her next move. “So you decided to invade my privacy, instead of asking me about myself?” Her voice wasn’t angry, but that’s what scared you more. You’d rather have her yell at you or be angry than whatever she was doing now. “You always dodged my questions, when I asked you why you went out at night you said it was business or errands, but I know that’s a lie.” You rambled on, starting to grow more nervous.

Arlecchino peered over at your shrinking form before grabbing your wrist, and bringing it to her lips. She pressed a soft, gentle kiss, completely contrasting the tense atmosphere between you two. “If I tell you, promise you won’t be scared?” Alarms were blaring in your mind, but you ignored them in favor of the woman before you. Your head was nodding on its own before you knew it and the other woman was on top of you in a second. Her arms caged you in under her, and one knee was slotted in between your thighs. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips barely grazing your sensitive neck. Her breath tickled you as she spoke, “I go out to hunt at night.” Confusion clouded your mind, why would she need to hide that? “You’re confused little doe? I hunt lost ones like you for their life source, blood.” Your heart was beating out of your chest now. Was she a murderer? Was she going to kill you? Was she just tricking you into thinking she cared this whole time? Your fear must have been present on your face because Arlecchino had taken it upon herself to soothe your nerves. She caressed your cheek gently, turning your head to face her once more, “I’m kidding. I don’t kill humans, unless they deserve it.” A wicked grin formed on her face and you were even more confused now.

“What are you talking about?” Your thoughts were swirling around in your head and you felt sick. “Have you ever heard of the myths of a vampire living in this very town?” She chuckled. You thought she must be pulling some sick prank on you, because vampires couldn’t actually exist. Right? “That’s absurd. Are you trying to tell me you’re a vampire?” Instead of answering you with words she answered with the fangs that seemed to appear out of nowhere within her mouth. The glint of white rendered you absolutely speechless, you felt you were going insane. You didn’t know if you found her 100 times more attractive, or if you wanted to scream and push her off of you, you were truly short circuiting. All you could do was stare.

“What’s on that pretty little mind of yours?” Her gloved hand cupped your cheek softly. Her actions completely betrayed the nature of the secret she had shared with you, and it eased your thoughts ever so slightly that she seemed just as gentle with you as she always has been. “Who’s Peruere?” You mumbled quietly, recalling the details of the journal you found. In the back of your mind you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear her say it.

“Peruere is one with me. I parted with the name hundreds of years ago though.” She spoke of those hundreds of years ago as if it was just some distant memory, but it was truly hard to grasp how old she must be. “I know it’s a lot to take in, I wouldn’t want you to be frightened of me after this.” A sigh escaped her lips, her fangs barely peeking out past her top lip.

You were silent momentarily to contemplate what you wanted to say next. “I’m a little scared, but I know you won’t hurt me.” It was more of a question than a statement the way your voice wavered. You wanted to think she liked your presence in her life enough to not kill you. Arlecchino’s eyes softened at your voice and she nodded her head slightly. “You’ve captured my heart, darling. I wouldn’t dare hurt you, unless you asked.” Her voice lowered at the last part, her eyes trailing down to your bare neck. You furrowed your brows at her words until what she meant finally caught up to you. “I thought you only hunted animals?”

“I do, but your blood must be the sweetest of nectars. Your scent is almost intoxicating to me.” Her voice was thick with desire, and it seemed as if she was getting needy for a taste of you. “Would it hurt?” You couldn’t believe you were even considering letting her drink from you, but the way she looked right now was simply irresistible. Her blood red eyes were nearly glowing with desire, her cheeks were flushed, and the way she towered over you was making it harder to say no to her. “Only for a moment, but I could make it feel better…” She trailed off, alluding to your pleasure.

You squirmed underneath her, your body brushing up against hers. She felt almost feverish where your skin met, and you were bordering on the same feeling. After a moment of weighing your options, you locked eyes with hers and nodded slowly. Within a moment her gloved hand slithered up your cheek before settling back down on your chin. She sucked her teeth and for a moment you thought you dissatisfied her. “Use your words. I need you to say you want it.”

Your mouth parted, inviting her thumb to slip past your plump lips. “I want it, I want you.”

#vampire heart ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 #dulcet fics ♡#arlecchino x fem reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino #genshin impact fanfics #genshin x reader

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prodagustd · 4 months ago

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the road not taken 05 | myg

part five: new year's eve

Summary: The timer is counting down and it's finally time to confront Yoongi.

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, FLUFF ❤️‍🩹, eventual smut, sexual tension!!!!! flashbacks, mentions of sex 👀Btw english is not my first language!

—words: 12.2k

—a/note: hi friends!!! i know i said i was going to go crazy with the word count but i had to divide the chapter because this part was going to have 25k words otherwise?? anyway!!! i went through ten different mental breakdows while writing this, i doubted myself like fifty times, but i enjoyed writing it sososo much, i hope you enjoy reading it as well!! like always, you are invited to discuss this part in the asks, feedback is always welcomed 🤠.

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

New Year’s eve.

You had lost count of the amount of times Minnie rolled her eyes, groaned or threw her hands in the air in the last two hours, but you were sure it was the same amount of times that you closed your eyes and sighed, trying to remain calm. She was sitting at the desk of your room, finishing her make-up for the New Year’s party as she listened to you list every detail of the last time you saw Yoongi, two days ago.

Minnie, not minding being hyperbolic, openly expressed that she thought that “Yoongi was a psychopath” for inviting to watch When Harry Met Sally, a movie whose main premise were two friends who are in love with each other but do not realize it. Then she proceeded to call him similar things, like he was crazy for grabbing your hand on the way home and borderline insane for not kissing you when he left you at the door of your home. You tried to agree with her, but you were too busy trying to keep your food down, fearing that you might vomit at the thought of confronting Yoongi tonight.

Needless to say, you were nervous. You had promised Minnie that, for your own sake, you would finally tell Yoongi to stop playing games and tell you what he really wanted with you tonight. You invited him to the party, hoping he would turn you down, thinking he probably had better plans with other friends, but he said yes, and now you were obligated to stand up to him.

“This is not my size.” You complained, observing yourself in the mirror as you pulled from the hem of your dress, attempting to cover your butt.

Your friend looked away from the tiny mirror in her hands to scan your body. You turned around, showing her the tiny black dress she let you borrow.

Minnie looked at you like you were joking. “It literally fits you like a glove.” She said, standing up from her seat to take a better look at you.

The dress was fine, it hugged your waist, your hips and every good part of your body, but you were too aware of it, you weren’t used to wearing dresses like this.

“What about my boobs?” You asked, covering up your chest with your hands.

“What about them? They look beautiful!” She exclaimed, and grabbed your hands to out them away.

You laughed “Aren’t they too out?”

“They’re perfectly out.” She responded, taking a good look at them “Like, enough, not too much and not too little, you know? If I had your boobs, I would display them just like that.”

You smiled like that was the biggest compliment a girl could ever hear. “Thank you Minnie.” You said, a little more relieved “I don’t know what I would do without you here.”

“You would be completely lost, I’m telling you.” She said, grabbing her jacket from her bed and her bag “Are we ready to go now?”

You reached for your phone, hoping to find a message from Yoongi saying that he was already here but it was not necessary, a second later you heard the motor of his car being parked in front of your house.

“That’s him.” You informed your friend, making her jump in her place like a little kid.

“Fine, let’s waste no time.”

You grabbed your jacket, already knowing it would be of no use in the freezing cold of the night, and left your house to meet Yoongi.

When you closed the door, you heard Minnie let out a little gasp, which made you look up at her.

"What?" you asked her, feeling her elbow dig into your ribs as she pointed at the sidewalk with her chin.

You turned around, meeting the sight of Yoongi, casually leaned over his car as he waited for you in the dark night. He was wearing his long black coat with his signature shirt, this time in black, his hair was slightly messy, the way you’ve always liked, and when he caught the first glimpse of your face he smiled, waving at you.

“Oh, my…” Minnie sighed, bringing her hand up to her face, fanning herself. “Is that the man who’s taking you home tonight?”

"Shut up," You muttered through gritted teeth, waving back at Yoongi.

“Is your mom coming home tonight, sweetheart?” She kept going “If I were you, I would tell her to stay somewhere else. You know, in case you and your boy…”

“Minnie, he’s gonna hear you.” You warned her, but she just laughed.

Still, in the back of your mind, you considered Minnie’s concern; no, your mom wasn’t coming home tonight, but you didn’t need to be thinking about that at all.

“Looking nice, ladies.” said Yoongi as you were making your way to his car.

“Likewise, gentleman.” Minnie answered “Do we have a resolution for the new year?”

Yoongi smirked, “Yes, we do.”

Your friend clicked her tongue, winking at you both and got into the back seat of Yoongi’s car, leaving the two of you alone.

There was a moment of silence, like he was waiting to hear the sound of the car door closing, and then, he whistled. “You’re all dolled up.” He noted, sneaking his hand under your jacket and grabbing you by your waist over your dress, pulling you closer to him.

“Is that bad?” You frowned, pretended to be annoyed.

“Maybe.” He considered “What if someone tries to steal my date?”

You snorted, softly punching his chest. “Oh, shut up.” You sassed “I can’t get rid of you, I’ve tried already.”

Yoongi bit his bottom lip, failing to hide a smile. “You look very pretty, that’s all I’m saying.”

By now, you’d think you could handle these kinds of comments—his lingering touches, or the way his eyes seemed to silently ask for a kiss—but you couldn’t. Your heart still jumped, your palms still grew sweaty, and your face still burned. Yet, you forced a smile as if you’d heard it a thousand times from countless men, as if he was nothing special.

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You patted him on the back, pulling away from him to go around the car to the passenger seat.

Yoongi’s gaze trailed over you as he turned to face you across the roof of the car, his eyes following every movement.

“By the way,” He wondered, stopping you before you could open the door “What do you mean that you’ve tried?”

You stopped for a moment, trying to understand what he meant, but you were immediately reminded of your previous comment. How clueless he was, he had no idea the amount of times you tried to exile him from your life with no success, the thought of him always crawled back to you as if he belonged there. Tonight you should be in your bed, or going to some other party to drink your weight in alcohol to try to fulfill the purpose of banishing him from your mind, but, like a thousand times before, you were with him.

You ignored his question, bursting into laughter as you got inside the car.

Yoongi stood there for a moment, hearing the echoes of your laugh across the street, tempted to chase the sound. What a shame, if you hadn't gotten into the car so quickly, you might have seen the stars reflecting in his eyes, the look that only a fool would mistake for anything other than love.

Present

The thing about small towns like yours was that they hardly ever changed—like the park in front of Minnie’s apartment, with its wooden benches and the path of trees leading to the fountain in the center, which had stopped working years ago. The never changing look of your hometown was one of the main things that made you want to leave it behind, it was ridiculous to admit how relieved you were now that everything was still the same as the last time you were here.

You set your bags down on the floor of your friend’s home and gazed out the window, watching the wind drag yellow and orange leaves, swirling them across the street until they crashed against the tall wooden doors of a building you recognized as The Alley. You remembered how, when you were younger, Minnie used to live fifteen minutes from there, but once she became an adult, she jumped at the chance to move directly across the street, staying as close as she could. You figured that people in small towns hardly ever changed either.

There was not much difference between the Minnie you knew when you were a teenager and the Minnie you knew in the present, she was still always at The Alley, except she was the one who called the shots nowadays. Over the years she gained the trust of the owners and now she was in charge of keeping everything in order, helping organize every activity and every area every day of the week, so you frowned when you saw that it was closed, especially in October, which was the most exciting month in The Alley; the Halloween plays, the Halloween movies and the Halloween parties were your favorite part of the year.

“Is The Alley closed?” You asked, turning around to see Minnie as she stuck her head in her fridge trying to look for something to eat. Your friend let you stay at her apartment for as long as you needed; it was the least she could do, considering she always crashed at your place in the city and acted like it was her own whenever she had to work there.

“Uh… yeah. It’s a whole thing.” She sighed. “It has all of us stressed out.”

“Why, what happened?” You walked over to her, sitting on one of the stools of her kitchen.

“The building’s having some issues with its infrastructure for some time now and it’s costing a lot of money.” She explained, grabbing a cup of yogurt and a spoon to place it in front of you as if that were dinner. “We thought it was just a few things, like the electricity and the plumbing, but the more we look into it, the more problems we find.”

Your frown deepened, more confused than before. The Alley had been an old building for years and years, there was always a thing or two that had to be repaired, but you never thought it was that bad. “That’s why it’s closed?” You continued to ask.

“That’s not the only reason. We had three inspections since the beginning of the year and none of them looked any good, we’re suspecting the town council might want to close it.” She rolled her eyes, but you could feel the hurt in her words.

“Close it?” You repeated it, feeling something stung in your chest “Just like that? Is it that bad?”

“Well, yes.” She affirmed, trying to appear composed but the discouragement filled her voice “Unless we fix the whole place, of course, but the repairs cost too much, so it’s going to take some time.”

“That sounds ridiculous, Minnie. What does Sid think?” You inquired. Sid was one of the owners of The Alley and the only one who was active in the community, he trusted Minnie with the management of the place more than anyone else.

“That prick.” She bitterly spat “Don’t even mention him, he’s acting like a jerk lately, he’s too old and too tired of running the place, he’s leaving everything to me. I’m trying to handle it with some other people but it’s too much. That’s why we’re closed, we’re opening just three days a week but that’s slowing down the process of collecting money.”

“Oh, Minnie. That’s horrible.” You lamented “Why am I just finding out about this now? Why didn't you tell me anything?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” She tried to wave off “You were busy and too sad to hear any of my problems, I didn’t want to bother with stupid stuff.”

“What are you talking about?” You said, shaking your head “It’s not stupid, are you nuts? I could never be too busy or sad to hear you. How come you’ve been carrying all of this without telling me?”

The feeling of guilt flooded your chest, filling with regret your whole body. You knew you were being a bad sister and a bad daughter, but you didn’t realize you were being a bad friend as well. If closing The Alley sounded horrible to you, you couldn’t imagine how bad must’ve felt for Minnie, who had dedicated most of her life to the place.”

“I mean it, baby, you don’t have to feel bad.” She assured you, squeezing your hand “My head’s been a mess lately, I was going to tell you eventually.”

“But it’s not okay, Minnie.” You insisted. “You could’ve told me how you were feeling, I mean, The Alley is your whole life, there has to be another way.”

“Yes, that’s what I keep telling myself, there has to be another way! And I’m trying to think of one, but when I think I’m close to finding a solution, my head starts to smoke.” She huffed.

You felt your heart clenching, Minnie was always trying to see the good side of things, you’ve never seen her so let down about something, especially something she cared about deeply. You both went silent, processing all the information for a minute. You wished you could do something, not only for your friend, but for the place where you had grown up, you couldn’t phantom the idea of The Alley disappearing, it was home of so many outcasts, it was your home for most of your teenage years, you felt like part of you was still on those walls.

“Have you thought about talking with a lawyer?” You asked, like some lightbulb lighted up above your head. “You know, I can talk with my brother if you’d like, he could help you save time.”

Minnie’s expression suddenly changed, she raised her eyebrows and slightly opened her mouth in surprise, but it wasn’t because of your offering, it was for something else, you just didn’t know what.

“Oh, no, honey. Don’t worry, it’s not necessary.” She rushed to say.

“How come it is not necessary?” You questioned. “Minnie, a lawyer is essential for this kind of stuff. I’m sure that Simon could give you some advice, if the situation is not good he could arrange a meeting with the council or something like that.”

You could see her doubting, the hesitating look on her face, looking at her hands as she tried to say something but couldn’t.

“You know that money is not a problem, I could talk to him about it.” You insisted, assuming that money was the reason for her doubt, she already said that they were struggling with the repair, you assumed that hiring a lawyer was too expensive to even consider.

Minnie pursed her lips, “It’s not about the money, actually.” She said, looking away from you. “And thank you, baby, it’s just that… uhm, we already consulted a lawyer.”

You sat straight in your chair “Oh, really?” You uttered, surprised. “What did they say?”

Your friend stood up from her seat, wandering around the kitchen while looking for something in the cabinets “He’s going through the documents for now, handling the legal stuff.” She trailed off, and you felt she was leaving something out. No, you didn’t understand a thing about law, but you could use a bit more information about the situation.

“How did you meet him?” You asked, curious. “Do you know if he’s any good? You know, I don’t trust lawyers.”

Your comment meant to be a joke, but the girl in front of you didn’t seem to catch it. Her tone suddenly changed “The only reason we have a lawyer is because it is a voluntary thing, so we don’t have to pay him. Otherwise, we would be lost, we couldn’t possibly afford a lawyer.” She went on, avoiding your question.

“A voluntary thing? You mean he is doing it for free?” You frowned, dismissing the fact that she didn’t answer what you asked, or even laughed at your attempt at a joke. “Why?”

“He’s from… here and really likes the place, I guess.”

“He’s from here and really likes the place?” You repeated, confused, you didn’t know many lawyers, but you were sure that was not reason enough to work for free. Minnie just hummed, not caring much to explain. “Do I know him?” The question resonated in the room, followed by a dead silence. As your friend pretended to be busy, taking the glasses out of the dishwasher and putting them back in their place, your words hung in the air, unanswered. “Minnie?”

“Yes?” You heard her voice.

“Who is he?” You asked again, but your gut told you that you already had an answer for that.

She turned back, looking at you with a warning look. “If I tell you, are you going to be mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” You questioned, already feeling upset. You knew way too many reasons to be mad at that question.

“I’m not telling you, then.” She said, taking your answer as a yes.

“If you don’t tell me who you hired as a lawyer, I will start screaming.” You threatened like a little kid, pointing at her with the spoon as if it were a gun.

“Okay, no need to scream.” She tried to persuade you.

“Minnie…”

“I’ll tell you, but you must know that it wasn’t my decision alone.” Minnie took a step back from you, with her hands in the air. “And that I would have never said yes if we had to pay him, we barely have any money! How could I say no? Besides, he helps on the weekends with the repairs, he’s great with plumbing and everyone likes him, the guys adore him, the girls love him, everyone had already agreed before I could say a word, you understand-?

“Minnie!” You stopped her, waving your hands in the air “You are rambling, what are you saying?”

The redhead in front of you took a deep breath, composing herself. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She breathed out “It’s just that Yoongi offered to advise us for free, and then he went on to…-”

The name ringed in your ears the same way it did when you mother mentioned the dinner the other night, the same way it did when you brother couldn’t stop mentioning his name the night you stayed at his house, the same way his voice interrupted the silence when he came looking for you in your mother’s backyard, only this time it came from your best friend’s mouth.

“Yoongi!?” You suddenly yelled, making her flinch. “What do you mean by Yoongi!?”

Minnie took another step back, afraid that you would use the spoon in your hand to take her eyes out.

“God, don’t be mad at me.” She pleaded, with her hands clasped together and her fingers intertwined as if she was begging for forgiveness.

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head in disbelief. One thing was not to tell you of the fact that the town wanted to close The Alley because she was stressed and too tired to talk about it, and a completely different thing was not telling you that Yoongi, the only man who ever broke your heart, was involved, trying to ignore the fact that it was the place where you grew up. You couldn’t believe your friend didn’t tell you that Yoongi was trying to help to save the place that was directly connected to you and him.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

“No, that was not the reason.” She tried to deny, but the second you raised an eyebrow, she backtracked “I mean, not at first, but I was telling the truth!”

“Half the truth!” You accused her.

“Okay, fine!” She threw her hands in the air, resigned. “Half the truth, I admit it.”

“But why?” You insisted.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart” She cried “ I don’t know… I was afraid you wouldn’t like the idea of him being involved in it.”

“I mean, it doesn’t sound thrilling, but I would want to know that it was happening, I don’t care if Yoongi was helping you with it.”

“I know, I know…” She trailed off, but there was still something she was keeping from you. Her gaze was fixed on her hands, she didn’t dare to look you in the eye. “It’s just…”

“What?” You kept asking “C’mon, Minnie… You don’t seriously think I’m still hurt by it, do you?”

The words came out of your mouth afraid to sound unsure, and the look she gave you finished to confirm it.

“Well, no-”

“Are you kidding? It’s been years, how could you think I’m still resentful?”

She raised an eyebrow the same way you did a second ago to accuse her, wondering if you were joking or not. “Don’t play dumb with me, you hate his guts.”

“I don’t hate his guts.” You scoffed, doing a very bad job at lying. In front of you there was the same woman who saw you crying for Yoongi all those years ago, the only person who you could talk shit about him with, you couldn’t pretend you were suddenly the most forgiving person when she was the only one who knew how much he hurt you.

Minnie laughed, making it clear that she didn’t believe you one word. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, maybe I still hate his guts.” You conceded “But that doesn’t mean I can’t tolerate him.”

You could feel Minnie’s eyes scanning every feature of your face, you could feel the weight of her doubt in the air. How could you convince her that you weren’t annoyed by Yoongi helping her when you didn’t even know the answer yourself? “Is that right?” She said, taking a step closer to you. You just nodded, but you didn’t know if that was even true. “So you wouldn’t mind, let’s say, being in the same room as him?”

“Of course not.” You replied right away, trying to appear confident. “Wasn’t I in the same room as him just a few days ago?”

“Yes, you were, you’re right.” She acknowledged “In that case, let’s say I believe you.”

“Yes, because I’m telling the truth.” You said in the same condescending tone she was using.

“And let’s say that I believe that you are more than capable of putting aside everything that happened between you and Yoongi just for the sake of The Alley.”

“That’s right.” You nodded, with your arms crossed over your chest.

“And if I were to ask you to help me with The Alley because you’re famous and you would help us raise a bunch of money, would you say yes even if Yoongi is there, helping too?”

You scoffed, a nervous laugh escaped you, thinking she was joking. But as you scanned her face for even the slightest hint of jest, a cold realization settled in your gut—she was completely serious.

“You have to call my agent for that kind of stuff, you know that?” You tried to joke, but she was not backing down.

“I’m not joking!” She pleaded “I was planning to ask you for a long time, but I didn’t know that you would want to do it since Yoongi is always around, but if you’re telling me you don’t care about him…”

You close your eyes shut. “It’s not only Yoongi- I mean, it’s not about him at all” You corrected yourself “I would love to help The Alley in all the ways I can, but I’m not sure if I want to play the superstar role right now.”

She nodded, immediately understanding “It’s fine, I get it, but I’m not asking you to play the superstar role, I’m asking you to be the girl I knew all my life, the one who’s passionate about theater and loves The Alley as much as me.”

A genuine smile spread across your face, feeling a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. “And the girl who’s also famous and would help you raise a bunch of money?”

She scoffed, “Well, you happen to be all of that too, isn’t that great?” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a smile. “Look, I’m not saying that you should say yes right now, but you should at least go with me this friday and I can show you some of my ideas, what do you say?”

Friday was just four days away, that was not enough time for you to decide anything, but because you loved Minnie, and you loved The Alley, and honestly, because you didn’t have anything better to do, you agreed to think about it, only for now. “Fine, Friday it is.”

Four years ago.

New Year’s eve.

The last night of the year always felt as if something was about to change, even if it never did. You clung to that feeling of hope, as if time were real, as if the sun and the stars ruled your life and you weren’t the only one capable of controlling it, at least that way you weren’t able to blame yourself for feeling like something was missing when you came home at six in the morning, drunk and hopeless.

Change, future, and love were becoming curse words in your vocabulary, and if you saw a shooting star tonight, you would wish to forget any meaning you had ever learned about them. But if you stood in the street tonight, shaking in the cold winter air as you looked up at the dark sky, waiting for someone to give you all the answers, you feared your life would be wasted. Your life wasn’t ruled by the stars, it was ruled by you, it was about time for you to realize.

Tonight you didn’t need the universe to tell you what to do, what you needed was a drink or two to gather the courage to confront Yoongi, but the second you entered the silver room with the silver lights, you heard some sappy song from the 2000’s and for a second you almost forgot about his hands holding yours, or perhaps you were just desperately trying to.

“C’mon,” He called you, grabbing your hand to walk you to the dance floor “you must dance! Or they’ll kick you out.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, but followed him as he made his way through the sea of people to reach the center of the dance floor. The room was packed, it smelled like cigarettes, weed and perfume mixed together, there was a huge contrast between the cold weather outside and the heavy and humid air from inside. Minnie was lost somewhere else, she was part of the committee that organized the party and wanted to check that everything was exactly as she planned it, so you and Yoongi were now alone, again.

Time spent with Minnie had a way of dissolving the anxieties that once clung to you when you first visited The Alley after coming home, you were no longer afraid of being recognized, in fact, when you came here the other day to watch When Harry Met Sally and some old friends recognized you, you didn’t try to run away, you took a second to hug them and catch up, you were also surprised to find out that none of them hated you like your imagination made you believe they did. Turns out, people grow up and grow apart and there was nothing bad with that. It was always a desire of yours to run away from this town, but only if you could make sure that you could return to The Alley anytime you wanted, it was a relief to know that now you could.

You had missed it, the parties, the music, the ten disco balls on the ceiling and those moments where the room was so dark no one could see how badly you were dancing, except those few lights that were were still shining in your eyes the same way your dress did every time Yoongi twirled you around. He didn’t miss any of that, he was paying attention, he observed your eyes, your nose, your lips, the way the straps of your dress rested gently on your collarbones, your body and your waist, his hands on your hips, how he couldn’t keep them away from you and how you wished you could just ignore it.

Yoongi was not shy, he was never shy when you were alone and tonight, even if you were in a room full with people, it felt like you were. He was dancing like you were the only one watching him, he laughed, he winked at you and drew you closer to him to whisper things in your ear in the middle of songs. You danced in the only way you knew: shamelessly, and when Yoongi said he needed some air you promised him to go outside with him for a moment, you were sweaty, your hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you knew you needed to check your lipstick in a mirror, but only after finishing dancing to Rock ‘N’ Roll Star by Oasis.

If there was a way in the universe that could stop the turmoil of your mind, that would be dancing, and it was working like a charm.

When the song was about to end, you began making your way out of the dance floor, but you immediately changed your mind when you heard the first chords of Sex on Fire blasting from the speakers. You stopped in your tracks, yanking Yoongi’s hand and making his body crash into yours.

“Stop!” You yelled “We can’t not dance to this song.”

“Pinky…” He whined, trying to complain, but you were already beginning to walk backwards, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You have to dance with me!” You insisted “You know this one!”

His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, the kind that could only promise trouble.

How lucky you were that Minnie wasn’t around. If she had seen the way you were looking at Yoongi at that moment, she would have slapped you in the face to snap you out of it. You were aware that you had an initial plan and that you weren’t anywhere near to pulling it off, you were aware that you were running off of excuses and that time wasn’t going to be on your side for much longer, but was it too much to ask for a few more moments like this? Those glimpses of something else, those evanescent instants where you didn’t have to wonder why you were dancing to this song with someone who was supposed to be your friend, with his lips threatening to brush with yours, his fingertips on your back, and his gaze fixed on you. You could hear your heart begging you to kiss him and your mind pleading you not to, but the only thing you understood was the way Yoongi sang each word to your face, so close you could explode.

You giggled and jumped to the rhythm of the song and sang back, forgetting all the words you practiced with Minnie, and all the things Minnie said and all the things you promised to do tonight. If you were to put an end to this now, you could at least have this moment.

“What is that?” Yoongi asked, observing you approaching him with a drink in your hands.

Going back to your own words, you hadn’t had much to drink tonight, you were too busy dancing or maybe it was the unbearable knot in your stomach that didn’t allow you to even think of alcohol before ending up throwing up. Ultimately, you decided to stay sober, this was only your second drink of the night and it was offered by Minnie, who you just encountered at the bar a few minutes ago. She yelled at the bartender, ordering a drink for both you and Yoongi. With a wink, she added two straws to the cup and playfully nudged you back towards the dance floor.

“It’s sex on the beach.” You mumbled without making eye contact with him. At least no one could say Minnie wasn’t funny. “A present from Minnie.”

“Two straws?” Yoongi said, leaning forward to sip the drink through one of the straws. “Isn’t she a matchmaker?”

Well, he had no idea.

“Buddy, if you want another drink you should buy it yourself.” You scoffed, drinking from the other straw. “You are the one who’s been drinking water the whole night.”

“I have plenty of things that I need to do tonight, I have to be sober.”

“Plenty of things?” You questioned “Like what?”

You joined Yoongi as he leaned against the wall, holding the cup between the two of you.

“Like driving you home.” He replied “What would Lila say about me if I show up drunk.”

“You never get drunk. You have the highest tolerance.” You laughed. “And even if you did, my mom would say that I was the one who got you drunk.”

“And maybe it would be true,” he snarked, leaning in with a playful grin, his lips brushing close to your ear. “I would tell her that you forced me to dance so much that the only way I could keep up was by drinking all the beer from the bar.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you huffed, digging your elbow into his ribs to push him away. “But I bet she would believe anything you say.”

Yoongi smiled, cocky “I bet she would, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, taking another long sip of the drink before feeling your throat slightly burning. “What’s up with the slow music?”

You looked around, seeing a few couples slowly dancing in the middle of the room. The lights were red and Fade Into You by Mazzy Star was playing softly, the dance floor was less packed, you thought it could only mean it was about to be midnight.

You grabbed Yoongi’s wrist to draw it closer to your face so you could check the hour on his watch. “It’s about to be midnight.” You announced. “They start playing love songs before midnight.”

“Why love songs?” He questioned.

“So you can find the person you want to give your first kiss of the year.”

“Isn’t that a bit cheesy?” he teased, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Of course it is.” You said, chucking “That’s the point.”

Yoongi nodded and set his cup down on a nearby table, extending his hand toward you. “Fine, let’s dance then.”

You observed his hand extended to you, a bit hesitant. “You slow dance, too?”

“Tonight I do.” He revealed. You had no other option but to take his hand.

You’ve never been to a New Year’s party at The Alley, but since Minnie was heavily involved in the preparations you knew a thing or two about how it went down. When the lights turned yellow and Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer suddenly began playing, you knew you were just a few minutes away from the New Year.

You had never been much of a slow dancer, so you were not sure what to do, but Yoongi seemed to have no problem with it, he led the way without making you look pathetic. You knew he had more experience with romantic scenarios than you, and even if you’d had your share of romantic relationships, it all went down to boring boyfriends, bad boyfriends, and boys who didn’t want to be your boyfriend at all. As he laid his hands on your waist and his soft gaze upon you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a romantic moment at all—nothing had ever been as close as this.

“So… did you have fun?” You asked him, grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

“I am having fun.” He emphasized, “Why are you asking as if the night is already ending?”

“I don’t know.” You said, a playful glint in your eyes. “I guess because... I always get the feeling that you’re about to slip away.”

He raised an eyebrow, moving slowly to the rhythm, pulling you with him. “Slip away?” he wondered.

“Oh, you know, you’re the kind of guy who slips away.” You smiled softly, enjoying the look of confusion on his face.

“I don’t know what that means.” He laughed.

“I mean… the guy who people always expect but always leaves early.” You tried to explain, but that didn’t do much for Yoongi’s understanding.

“Do you think I always leave early?” He inquired, making you laugh.

“You leave early sometimes.” You confirmed “Most times.”

“Well, I don’t quite enjoy parties.” He confessed, but you already knew that. When you were younger, you always followed Simon to parties. He tried so hard not to get annoyed at his little sister; annoying him was supposed to be your job. And as fun as it sounded, you were never really there for Simon, but to catch a glimpse of his best friend. Of course you soon learned that hanging out with Yoongi at your house was much more entertaining than observing him flirting with the prettiest girl of the party just to watch him leave with her an hour later. If you ever found Yoongi at a party, it was most likely because Simon dragged him to it, you guessed you weren’t so different from your brother.

“What about this one?” You teased him “Are you leaving this party early?”

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head “I won’t be disappearing tonight.”

“Is that so?” You asked, and he nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “What’s different tonight?”

For an instant, Yoongi's gaze drifted around the room, as though searching for a reason to stay, before finally settling back on you.

“You, maybe.” He asserted calmly, his voice steady.

You laughed nervously, feeling your chest tighten. “What about me?”

“Nothing, you look really pretty.” He simply said. “I wouldn’t leave a party if you’re looking this pretty.”

Your breath got caught in your throat “Yoongi…” you whispered, but he could hear your voice just right.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Stop that…” Your voice came out weak as you placed a hand on his chest, attempting to create some distance between your body and his. Yet, with his hand resting on your lower back, he gently drew you closer once again.

“Stop what?” he dared to ask,

That—this, whatever you had going on, whatever was happening between you and him—had gotten to a point of no return. All the cards seemed to be on the table, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to give a name to it. Yes, you could see it, you could feel it, but you were still afraid.

“Nothing, never mind,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“C’mon, tell me,” he coaxed, cupping your cheek with one hand. A teasing smirk danced on his lips, making you want to punch him, but the hand you meant to push him away with gradually glided down his chest instead.

“That thing you’ve been doing.” You murmured, tilting your head to lean into his touch.

“What?” He scoffed, “What thing I’ve been doing?”

“Exactly that.” You pointed out. “Stop playing dumb with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said with a mocking tone on his voice.

You slightly punch his chest with your fist “That, too.” You pouted, feeling his thumb grazing over your jaw. “You’re trying to drive me crazy, stop that.”

“Am I doing that?” He smirked, the amusement in his eyes clear as he watched for your reaction. “How exactly?”

“Don’t piss me off…” You threatened, as if your threats had any value when you were wrapped in his arms, when your voice sounded so weak.

“You’re incredible, really.” He said “Aren’t you the one who’s trying to drive me crazy?”

You blinked, clearly not grasping the situation.

“What are you talking about?” You demanded to know.

Yoongi bit his lip, holding back a smile “Pinky…” He said like it was obvious, but everything was a blur, a cloud of smoke surrounding the both of you.

“Yoongi…” You spoke in the same tone as him.

“What? Am I insane or am I just imagining you pulling me in just to push me away later?” His words didn’t sound harsh, but there was a hint of resignation in his voice. You couldn’t help but frown deeply, bewildered.

“Are you serious? I’m not doing that.” You said, feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment. The truth was that you weren’t even sure if you were doing that or not, but you were not willing to admit it. “You’re the one playing games with me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in denial “I’m not playing any games with you.”

“Really?” You snickered, bitterly, but he was quick to deny it. “Not one?”

“No, not one.” He assured you, confidently.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What games am I playing, you say?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” You tried to dismiss it, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“You are not being very communicative with me, Pinky.”

You scrunched your nose, it was only a matter of time for him to start annoying you “You…-”

“I?...”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what you did.”

“I actually, no, I don’t know what I did.” He jested.

“Yoongi, you tried to kiss me!” You blurted out, your words tumbling over each other. “Before Christmas, you tried to kiss me and a second later you acted like nothing happened.”

“No-” He tried to defend himself, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“Yes! You acted like I imagined everything.” You kept accusing, “You keep leaving me stranded, wondering if I just went mad!”

You felt your heart racing with each word you spoke, but Yoongi was unphased, completely calm, you could even see a glimpse of amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Pinky, I did want to kiss you.” He admitted with a tranquil smile, as if sharing a simple truth “You weren’t imagining it, I wanted to kiss you so many times, I still do.”

It was like someone was playing a bad joke on you; the proximity of his face, the weight of his words, his gentle touch all over your body, it only made your breath hitch, your heart skip a beat, you felt like you were floating in the air in a different dimension, because this could not be real. It was like a force of habit, you couldn’t believe something good was happening to you even if it was right in front of your face.

“Then, why didn’t you do it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, surprised that you had mustered the courage to wonder that out loud. “Why didn’t you come looking for me after?”

“I always come back to you, are you kidding?” he replied, chuckling softly, though his gaze held an unexpected seriousness. “But you looked horrified, that day in your grandmother’s house you stormed out, you ran away, what was I supposed to do?”

You couldn’t recall that day without feeling a chill running down your whole body. The sole memory of your bodies pressing against each other, his deep voice, his dark eyes and the embarrassing moment when you had to open the door to find your mother standing there was enough to keep you awake at night. The only option you had was to run away, you thought it was only logical, but now you felt your whole face burning red as Yoongi accused you of running away from him.

“Well, because you…! “ you dug your finger into his chest, exasperatedly trying to find the right words to put on a good fight. “You confuse me!”

“Do I?” He mocked you. “Am I confusing you?”

“Yes, you do!” you argued, ignoring his implications “You say and do all these things, you grab my hand, ask me to run away with you, you try to kiss me and then-“

“And then what?” He snapped, making you swallow your words “And then I give in, don’t I?”

“No!” You protested, squinting your eyes. “You disappear, you come back, you leave, you leave me hanging, you confuse me. How can I know what it is when I don’t know what you want, when it seems that you don’t even know what you want?”

“I’m not trying to confuse you, I know exactly what I want.” He laughed without humor.

“And what’s that?” You demanded, frustration boiling over.

“Pinky, I know that there have been people around you that tried to make you believe that you weren’t good enough, but that it’s simply not me.” He said “I want you, is that so difficult to believe?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your thoughts were a mess. “That’s not- Thats…!” Your words tangled, and now you were barely making any sense.

“That’s the truth, I grab your hand, try to kiss you and when you push me away I come back home just to dream of you all night, convincing myself that I’m not completely insane.” He paused, his gaze locked onto yours, as if begging you to understand.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as if that would somehow clear the storm of emotions swirling inside you. His confession was overwhelming, every word sinking into your chest. You felt your head spinning, you couldn’t process all those words, not when your heart was threatening to escape from your chest and his hands were still on your face, demanding you to look at him.

“Because that’s what I’ve been doing since last summer, asking myself if I lost my head” He continued “And, Pinky, that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that I have to be okay with it. Because I would rather watch you all night wearing that dress, wishing that I could take it off, than having nothing at all.”

A lump formed in your throat, your breath hitching as you tried to form a response, but no words came. You simply gulped, utterly speechless, trapped between disbelief and the wild beating of your heart.

“Yoongi…” you whined, barely managing to get his name past your lips. The words you needed were nowhere to be found.

And then, in the least convenient moment, the countdown started, the room filling with the sound of people shouting numbers.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “What? What should I do, hm?” His lips grazed over yours, so soft that it felt like a question in itself.

“I can’t handle this,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to steady yourself. “This is too much. I can’t.”

He paused, his eyes searching yours, and then, as if trying to make sense of the situation, he asked softly, “Should I turn around and leave?”

You shook your head, quickly, repeatedly, without a second thought.

“Tell me, then.” He pressed, his voice almost a plea.

Still caught in the hazy blur of the moment, you could hear the countdown approaching its end, yet he still hadn’t pulled away. It felt as if you were under a spell, frozen in place, unable to move. You were breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the lights and the music and the people chanting, overwhelmed by his words, his body and his gaze fixed on your lips. The fleeting feeling that you were dreaming hit you for a second, but when everyone around you started counting four, that thought quickly vanishedYou heard three, and the realization that he was waiting for your response hit you like a bolt of lightning. You heard two and you got the feeling that if you didn’t do anything about it now, you wouldn’t do anything about it ever, you heard one and, against every rational thought, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him.

It was not a soft kiss, it was rushed, rough and messy. You closed your fists around his shirt, pulling him closer as he opened his mouth to search for your tongue in desperation, the way his fingers gripped your hips burned right through your clothes, driving you to the edge. You could hear people yelling and laughing, you could hear the fireworks outside, the song that started right after the countdown, but you were completely absorbed by him, by his lips, by the way he held you, no one had ever kissed you with such determination, with such dedication.

You had spent years dreaming about kissing Yoongi, but you never thought it would be like this—like your lips fitted just right with each other, as if in this universe he was made only for you. The moment was electric, igniting a fire deep within you, and all the doubts and fears that had held you back melted away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the sweetness of his breath against your skin.

His feet carried him to the nearest wall, dragging you along until he pinned you against it, never breaking the kiss. For a fleeting moment, he pulled back to catch his breath, his gaze lingering on your lips before he devoured them once more. His hands traveled down your back, tempted to listen to his thoughts, to touch your body in the way he really wanted.

You laid your hand on his chest, gently pulling away “Is this what you wanted?” You whispered, excitement filling your voice.

His lips curled into a teasing smile. “Not even close,” he murmured, his voice low with amusement.

There were only so many ways you could imagine the night ending, that was what you thought before leaving your house earlier tonight. If you were lucky enough, you would’ve come back home in one piece, sober and with your heart intact, that would’ve meant that you didn’t dare to take any risks, you would've let the night finish its course without rushing it, finally accepting that you were a coward. If you were unlucky, you would’ve come home crying, drunk and with your heart shattered; that would’ve meant that you did take risks, but the universe simply wasn’t ready to take your side yet. You could’ve laid in bed and fantasized all you wanted, but none of those scenarios would’ve ever looked like this one.

As Yoongi opened the door of the entrance of his building, you caught a glimpse of the hour in the watch on his wrist. It took him half an hour and more than a few kisses to ask you to leave the party with him, two minutes to pick your jackets from the cloakroom, and only five minutes to drive to his apartment, and yet it felt like the longest car ride of your life. You thought that after twenty one years of life of never getting what you wanted, the universe should at least grant you the wish to skip the car ride to Yoongi’s apartment, because you had never felt so much tension before. You sank in the passenger seat and tried to avoid his gaze as much as possible, the mere thought of being alone with Yoongi was starting to give you goosebumps; the seat belt and the fact that he had to keep both hands on the steering wheel were the only things that were keeping him away from you.

The scenario was displayed right in front of you; he opened the door, letting you inside first and walking to the elevator with a cheeky smirk on his face. It wasn’t in your plans to leave less than an hour into the new year, and yet you were there, following the person you tried to forget so many times into his apartment, feeling like a handful of nerves.

You observed him opening the doors of the old elevator and then ran to get inside before him, crashing your back against the wall so it could keep you as far away from him as possible. You still didn’t understand what the fuck you were doing going into his apartment.

Yoongi got in after you, staring at you like you went mad, and honestly, it kinda felt like you did. You wanted to punch him when he laughed at you as he closed the doors, curiously raising his eyebrows. “Are you running away from me?” He asked, pressing the fourth button on the wall. It only took him one step to be as close to you as he was. You breath hitched, not feeling as confident as you felt when you were surrounded by people. “Still?”

You felt the sudden shift as the elevator ascended to the fourth floor. Yoongi and his mom had always lived in the same old building. The hallway walls were a dull brown, and the elevator had heavy accordion-style metal doors that folded inward and had to be closed manually. When you pressed the button to go up or down, the whole thing shook as if it was about to break down—but it never did. The mirror inside was old and smudged, you caught his reflection in the corner of your eye but you tried to ignore it, his presence alone was making you shiver.

You shook your head, unable to utter another word.

“No?” He kept insisting. He was teasing you, he had been teasing you for the whole night and you weren’t sure if you could take it anymore. You were tired of playing nonchalant, you just wanted to kiss him again.

He took a step forward, grabbing your waist to pull you closer to him. His fingers found each other in the small of your back, pressing you against him and taking you by surprise when he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and kissed you deeply. He slowly opened your mouth to slide his tongue past your lips, making it difficult to breathe or to even think.

You grasped his shoulders with your fingers in case he wanted to pull away but there was no need. You weren’t sure how many times you had tried to decipher whether you were caught in a dream or if this was reality, because there was no way Yoongi knew exactly how to kiss you to make every logical thought on your mind disappear, but when the elevator shook again you were pulled out of your trance, you were not dreaming, somehow this was real.

“Who knew this was the only way to get you to shut up.” He murmured, brushing his lips against yours.

“Fuck you.” You whispered, and you hated it because it doesn’t come out as an insult at all.

He chuckled, “Oh, there you are again.”

He took your hand to drag you out of the elevator, leading the way to his apartment door at the end of the dark hallway.

For Yoongi, your house was almost like his second home—but you could count only a couple of times you had been to his, like when your mom picked him up because Simon and he were going to a comic convention for the first time. You were ten, already with the worst attitude, mad that you had to go with your nerd brother and his nerd friend to some nerd convention. But when you arrived at Yoongi’s apartment, he took you to his room and—attempting to change your mood—showed you the keyboard his mom had gotten him for his birthday. You remembered that a few weeks prior, he had told you he was teaching himself how to play, and you asked him if he could learn "Last Night on Earth" by Green Day. That morning, before leaving, he played it for you under one condition: that you stop being mad.

When you walked through the door and saw the living room immersed in complete darkness, you couldn’t help but wonder if he still remembered how to play the song.

“Do you still have the keyboard?” You asked, unsure how to act around him alone. The air felt heaving, and nerves were still fluttering in your stomach. You had never been nervous to be alone with a man ever; it was usually the other way around, but not with him, never with him.

Yoongi smirked, not believing you were thinking about that. “Is that why you’re so quiet? You’re thinking about my old keyboard?”

“You’re pissing me off.” You warned him, digging your finger on his chest, but he’s quick to pull you close to him again, laughing at you. You, who were always so cocky and quick-witted with your insults, now you were standing there, struggling to find a retort. There was no way you were this nervous to be alone with a man you’ve known literally all your life.

“It’s in my room.” He whispered, brushing his thumbs over your waist.

You swallowed, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

“I…” You tried to say, but he was still looking at you the same way he was observing you back in the car, it was probably the same way he had been looking at you during these past weeks, but you couldn’t help but feel it was different. “I didn’t mean that.” You managed to finish your sentence.

He quietly chuckled, shaking his head “You want to see the keyboard. What else could you mean?”

You pressed your lips together, holding back the urge to curse him again. Ignoring your red cheeks, he took your hand before you could say anything back, making his way to his bedroom.

Yoongi’s home hasn’t changed too much, except for the frames on the walls that now had pictures of a much older Yoongi, or when he graduated high school and pictures on family holidays. You took a second to look at them as you walked towards his room but you were distracted when you felt his fingers on your chin, gently turning your face towards him.

“I like that picture.” You pointed at your left, a picture your mom took when both him and Simon graduated. It was Yoongi and Nari, his mom. Yoongi had a fresh cut and some square black glasses that he changed as soon as he got into college. “I was really sad when you left.” You confessed suddenly.

You weren’t intending for your words to carry a touch of sorrow, but they still linger with a hint of sadness in the air.

“Were you?” He murmured and you nodded.

You had always wondered what would have happened if you and Yoongi had grown up at the same time—what if it had been you instead of Simon? You wouldn't have had to see them leave together; you wouldn't have felt so disappointed when they came to visit every other weekend. Maybe you would’ve grown up less angry. You came to accept what you had, Yoongi was there for every important moment of you life; he taught you how to drive, helped you pass your math tests, he was the one who talked you out of your relationship with your asshole ex boyfriend, he was there for your graduation, to send you off to college, he was everywhere but you, on the other hand, were just a tiny piece of his life.

He cupped your face, chasing away all those swirling thoughts as he kissed your lips softly. He walked backwards, guiding you into his room while deepening the kiss. As the door closed behind you, a quiet certainty settled in your heart: your past had led you to this moment.

You sighed, feeling the ghost of his lips when he pulled away to search for something.

The dim light of the lamp next to Yoongi’s bed didn’t do much to illuminate the room, but provided enough lighting to observe how much it changed since the last time you were there. It didn’t look like the room of a teenager anymore, most of the posters were no longer there and the action figures were replaced by books now, but his keyboard was still folded next to his closet.

Yoongi grabbed it and carefully put it at the feet of his bed. He sat on the edge, inviting you to sit between his legs.

You narrowed your eyes at him, hesitating. “You…”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, tugging at your hand and guiding you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest as you faced the keyboard.

And, by the way, have you mentioned how nervous you were? You took a deep breath, dreaming, hoping, wishing he wouldn’t notice, but you were a fool if you thought Yoongi couldn’t read you like the palm of his hand.

“Do you do this with all the girls?” You dared to ask, but the truth was that you didn’t want to know the answer.

He kissed your exposed shoulder, resting his chin on it. “C’mon, you’re the one who asked to see the keyboard.”

You turned your head to him, a bit offended. “Is that a yes?”

“That was a no.” He retracted himself, he knew you well enough to know that he shouldn’t play with you unless he wanted to see you walk through the door. “What about the keyboard?”

You decided to ignore the swift change of topic. “Do you still remember how to play?” You asked, touching the keys and jumping a bit when it sounded a bit too loud.

“I’m a bit rusty, but sure I do.”

“Do you remember when… I asked you to learn a song?”

“Yes, I remember that,” He said, chuckling. “I also remember that the day I played it for you you were really pissed because your mom couldn’t find a nanny and had to hang out with me and Simon. You called me a nerd, very cruel.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “God, I was such a terrible kid back then.”

“Well, yes, maybe.” He admitted “But you were also a really cool kid. You made us listen to My Chemical Romance the whole ride. I remember that your mom hated it, but it was the only thing that could keep you happy.”

You bursted out a laugh, remembering how big of a fan you were of My Chemical Romance, you still were. Your mom thought you were too young to be listening to that, but Simon bought you their second record for your birthday and she knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, she had no other option but to let you keep it.

“I don’t know how my mom put up with me,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “It probably drove her crazy.”

“Mmm, you always had that effect on people,” he teased, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. “In both good and bad ways.”

“Is that really the impression I leave on you?” You shot back, raising an eyebrow playfully. He hummed thoughtfully, admitting it without hesitation. “And in what way is it for you?”

“In both ways,” He replied, his tone light and teasing.

You bit your lips, trying to hold back a smile. “You’re so whipped, it’s ridiculous.” You said “I wanted you to play the keyboard but I rather hear you compliment how cool I am.”

“Oh, shut up.” He huffed, gently slapping your thigh “What did you want me to play, again?”

“The song I told you!” You reminded him.

“Oh, right!” He laughed, “I remember it, it was easy to learn.” He said and began to play the first chords “It reminds me of you, how could it not?” You smiled, watching his long fingers make the room full with music, you sang the song in your head, being hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia. “I want you to play it with me.”

You frowned “But I don’t know how.”

“I know, dummy.” He replied, grinning as he halted the music and pulled his fingers away from the keys. “Like this, see?” He gently took your hands, aligning your fingers with his, his palms covering the tops of yours as he began to play.

You laughed, fully aware it sounded awful—nothing like when he played solo—but your heart had never felt so at ease. His laughter danced through your hair, his body shaking beneath you, and you lost track of when the sound might end, as if it were a never-ending loop. All you wished was for it to last forever.

After two minutes, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing the song to a halt. “You’re good with the keys,” he joked. “Not as good as me, but you’ll get there.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. It felt a bit strange to be so close, but when his hands glided up and down your exposed thighs, and he looked into your star-filled eyes in the dim light, it suddenly felt just right.

His eyes were shining under the dim lights, biting his lips as he grasped your hips to keep you in place.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He said, somehow pulling you closer “I missed you while I was gone, that’s all.”

How much? you wanted to ask him, and when, for how long? And why? You wanted to know everything, to dive into the turmoil of his mind, to see yourself through his eyes.

You wanted to make an effort to hide how easily you melted when it came to him, but then again, why hide it? If you had the chance to grab his face and kiss him, that was exactly what you should do, and that was exactly what you did.

Your tights hugged his waist, and you tried not to flinch when his hands gripped your waist, slowly running his palms down the curve of your ass. He kissed you slowly, fingers tracing the line of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, slow and intoxicating. Each movement was controlled, filled with intent, as though he was savoring every second, every breath you shared. The warmth of his lips, the soft hum of desire between you, built gradually. His fingers teased their way under your dress, but they stopped there for a moment, as if he was playing with you. He pulled away, leaving a peck on your lips. “You aren’t so shy anymore.” He teased you, brushing his nose against yours.

“You’re so annoying,” you squinted your eyes at him.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “And…” his lips moved to your jaw, “…you are…” then to the curve of your neck, “…so pretty.” Taking advantage of how lost you were in the moment, he gently flipped you over, positioning himself between your legs, now hovering above you.

Yoongi sighed, feeling completely defeated. He, more than anyone, knew how beautiful you were: you were beautiful in the mornings, with messy hair and sleepy eyes; when you wore mismatched socks and a hoodie; in your pajamas; when you stumbled over your words,when you were shy and flustered, when you were angry and looked you were about to kill someone. Even if you hid in crowded rooms and always sat in the back of the class you couldn’t hide it, you had grown up beautiful, but specifically tonight you seemed to have stars in your eyes. All your makeup was smudged, half of the product of your lipstick was on Yoongi’s face and the dark shadow in your eyes was a mess, but he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

“You have the prettiest eyes, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks flush, heat creeping up your neck. “Are you trying to make me nervous?” You asked.

He kissed your lips before answering “Why, is it working?”

You shook your head in denial, lying shamelessly. You ran your hands from his abdomen to his chest, not knowing what to do next. Your mind and heart were racing, if you thought twice about it you didn’t even know what you were doing there, laying under him as he caressed your thighs, as he kissed your neck, as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Can you tell me something?” You whispered.

He gently brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. “What is this?”

“What was that thing you said about last summer?” You asked “What did you mean?”

Those words were still ringing in your mind since you heard them; that's what I’ve been doing since last summer. You wanted to know what he was talking about, but instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. “C’mon, tell me…” you chuckled.

“I was not supposed to say that out loud.”

“Why?” You insisted “Are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not embarrassed.” He firmly said “But there’s some things I should keep to myself.”

You rolled your eyes “Yoongi, tell me now…”

“Fine, okay, I’ll tell you.” He said, surrendering to your tactics, which consisted only of a warning glance. “Last summer we spent some time together, some time with Simon, some time alone, but always together. I began to see you differently, you were different, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.”

“Why were you feeling guilty?” You cautiously asked.

He stopped for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Mmm… I felt I wasn’t supposed to look at you differently.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Exactly how different?”

“Well, different,” he repeated, a hint of playfulness in his tone. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“What was it?” You frowned “Was it my eyebrows? I laminated my eyebrows for the first time last summer. Everyone said I looked prettier.”

Yoongi shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. How could you think it was your eyebrows?

“It wasn’t your eyebrows, but they suit you nicely.” He complimented, making you smile.

“Well, thanks.” You happily said “But then, what was it? I don’t remember being particularly diff-”

“It was your bikini, Pinky,” he interrupted, his confession coming out suddenly. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you tried to process his words. You blinked a few times, searching his face for any hint of teasing, but he looked serious—almost too serious. “There was this weekend where you were wearing a bikini with strawberries on it and… I gave you more than a few looks and felt like I was beginning to go crazy…” His expression remained sincere, almost thoughtful.. “I thought it would go away, you are a pretty girl, I supposed it was only logical to feel attracted. But then, I started to dream about you and that made everything worse, but that’s too much information.”

“No, I want to know.” You kept insisting, teasing him “Tell me what you were dreaming about.”

“You don’t want to know.” He brushed it off.

You reached for the buttons of his shirt, with a gentle touch, you unfastened the first button. “But I do want to know.”

Yoongi leaned in, kissing your lips softly as if that could make you forget the topic of conversation, but of course it didn’t, you were still looking at him, eager to know.

“Dreams, Pinky, of you… in that bikini… without a bikini, in my bed.” He said in a soft breath as he swept his palm on his face. He didn’t look embarrassed but you could tell he would rather not share that information. A single flashback of one of those dreams was enough to drive him to the edge. He thought that after leaving they would stop, but you keep appearing in the back of his mind like some kind demon, sent to earth just to torture him. You weren’t embarrassed either, you wished he could tell you more. “And the worst part is—that wasn’t all. I wish it were that simple. I wish I could just say that I’m only a man, and trust that at some point my dreams would stop. But even outside my dreams, you were still there, and you were funny and smart and you seemed to be the solution to all my problems. I don’t know, I keep wondering if I was nuts.”

You could only gaze at him, with your eyes wide and soft, absorbing every word. You had spent the whole summer with Yoongi and yet, you haven’t noticed his change at all. Yoongi wasn’t like other boys, he was composed, he knew how to controll himself, but you found yourself wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t. You bit your lip, smiling. “And what about now?” You asked. “Did you come to a conclusion after all?”

“Yeah, a few” He nodded “I think I wasn’t crazy for dreaming of you, but I will be if I don’t take this dress off you.”

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls, @overtherainbow35, @namin13, @p34rluv, @moonchild1, @yoongisoftface , @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts , @yoongisducky , @bangtansmauyeondan , @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater @ot7stansthings @curiouslioncutie

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lorelune · 5 months ago

Text

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop.

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof.

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder. March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.)

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab.

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe.

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh.

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck.

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass.

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good.

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally.

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months.

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one.

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on.

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are.

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile.

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later.

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground.

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall.

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng.

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place.

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

...

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you,

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care.

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable.

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully.

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer.

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie).

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high.

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick.

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening.

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound.

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers.

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine.

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit.

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch.

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks.

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired. Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes.

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs.

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher.

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft.

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful.

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily.

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings.

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince.

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you.

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal.

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you.

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth.

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more.

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life.

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows.

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this.

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow.

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want.

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites.

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm.

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs.

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot.

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts.

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage.

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you.

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains.

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there.

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient.

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning.

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet.

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod.

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs.

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates.

[one new message]

blade: did you get home

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die.

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me.

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow.

#lore writes #blade x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #thank you to bitti for giving me so much juice to work with!!!#thank you to my early 20s and my time in the local music scene to reach about the most toxic men you can imagine <3 #ENJOY LOVES <3

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hysteria-things · 1 year ago

Text

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #Spotify #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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gyupinkys · 2 years ago

Text

POUT SOME MORE

Choi Seuncheol x fem reader

Seungcheol is not a nice man. How could he be? To run a mafia you need to be ruthless and you are no exception to that behavior. No matter how many times he fucks you and tells you he owns you, he will never mean it. Thats until he see's you being a little to friendly with Shownu.

part 2

WC: 3.6K

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, degradation, humiliation, exhibitionism, chocking, impact play, spanking, ruined orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, possessiveness, arranged marriage, knife play if you squint, basically cheol being petty and fucking you in front his friends.

There's nothing in this world you didn’t have. You grew up spoiled out of your mind. Anything you ask for daddy would run and buy. He treasured his one and only daughter, making sure she knew how much he loved her. Despite being the leader of the largest mafia in the continent he never once ignored your needs or neglected you. Your father was always there for you and would do anything for you, you loved him endlessly. But there was one thing he couldn’t give you and that was Choi Seungcheol.

Now, you pride yourself in being a strong woman. So there's no way in hell you would ever long after a man. What do you look like being caught up, sad, and upset over a… man? Just the thought makes you shudder. You didn’t love Seungcheol, not by any means. Sure, you loved the orgasms and the way he filled you up perfectly, but you didn’t love him. He’s far from your type, he’s a womanizer whereas you love pathetic men who do anything you say. You want the treatment you received growing up to carry on into your adult life and Seungcheol is not the man to give you that. But just the thought of not having him grovel over you… beg to be in your presence irks you…

You’re the full package so why doesn’t he want you? You try not to be too caught up on this, busying yourself with your other boy toys, but it’s always eating away at you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he think you’re undeserving of him? He’ll fuck you, but not want to date you? Now you’re getting worked up. This is why you cut him off, it’s not worth the stress; it’s been four months without him and you’re (going crazy) fine. You take a sip of your bloody mary and sigh. Looking around you see the man himself enter the club with his stupid posse… god, you despised him. You ignore him, “don’t let men get the best of you.” you whisper to yourself.

“Why is my dumpling so worked up?”

You immediately know who it is and smile. You love this guy.

“Hi, Shownu.” you say smiling up at him. He’s so fucking fine. You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, he just returned from overseas business.

“Are you here alone?” he ask, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“No, Yuqi is around here somewhere.”

“Why is she always leaving you?”

“Maybe so a tall, handsome grandpa could come and flirt with me.”

He clutches his chest. “I’m not old,” he says pouting.

“Don’t worry, you know I love an older man, and who else do I get to call daddy?” you smirk.

He groans, clutching your waist harder. “If you keep talking like this I’m gonna drag you out of here.”

You giggle.

On the other side of the club Seungcheol is fuming. His “I don’t care about you” act is backfiring. He has no claim over you and it’s his fault. He needs to maintain his big bad mafia boss act but he so badly wants to start pouting. Jeonghan senses it and nudges him.

“Dude get it together.”

“But do you see her?” he whines. “She’s practically eye fucking him.”

“You’re literally whining! People are gonna start looking.”

“Jeonghan you don’t get it! I literally fucked her brains out and then she cut me off! And look at her she doesn’t even care.” he says as the whining increases. He’s two seconds away from actually stomping his foot.

“I don’t know how people buy this “alpha” act, you're actually just a little bitch.” Jeonghan says and rolls his eyes.

Seungcheol dramatically gasps. “Why would you say that to me?”

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“And say what?”

“Cheol. I can’t tell you how to live your life. What will you do when I die?”

“I’ll just die with you.” he says seriously.

Jeonghan just groans and pushes Cheol towards you.

“Keep it cool, keep it cool, keep it cool” he whispers to himself as he walks over to you.

He slides in the empty space behind you and orders a bourbon at the bar. You and Shownu turn to look at him.

“Y/N. Shownu” he nods at both of you.

“Hello, Seungcheol” you say with a small smile and Shownu just nods in return. You can sense an ego off about to happen and quickly make your exit.

“Shownu, I’ll text you.” you say and get up only for Cheol to grab your shoulder.

“And what about me?”

“What about you, Cheol?”

He doesn’t want to sound pathetic and beg.

“You suck my dick and say I’m yours and suddenly you’re acting like you don’t want to see me?” Nice one Seungcheol, way to fuck it up.

You raise your eyebrows at him and scoff. “Shownu will get a text because I don’t have to fake orgasms with him. He actually makes me cum.” you say with an innocent smile making Cheol scoff.

You pat Shownu on the shoulder and walk off.

“Nice one man, maybe if you try respecting her she’ll fuck you.”

“I don’t need advice from you.”

“You sure? 'Cause I'm the one who's gonna be deep in that pussy tonight” Shownu shrugs, walking away leaving Cheol pouting at the bar.

“Dude, that was really bad.” Joshua says sliding next to him, making Cheol glare at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t end up texting Shownu. You heard about his arranged marriage thats being planned through the grapevine and one thing you don’t do is fuck married men. You stuck to your trusty vibrator to get you through the night. As you’re about to get out of bed you get a phone call from Yuqi. You know she’s gonna be recounting her entire experience last night in full detail. With a sigh you answer.

“Y/N. What did you do to Seungcheol last night?”

“Nothing?”

“When you left the bar he started pouting and whining to that friend of his; The American one. Look, I even caught it on camera.”

You rush to open your messages to see a video of Cheol sitting at the bar with a huge pout on his face. You can’t hear what they’re saying but his friend is just sitting there laughing. You start to laugh too, he looks so pathetic.

“I’m gonna call him. I’ll call you back.”

“Tell me what he says!”

You scroll through your contacts until you find his phone number. You never bothered to give him a contact, he’s just a quick fuck after all (no he’s not). You call him and after a few rings he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Chollie.”

“Finally decided you want me?”

“I don’t know about all that. But, I think someone wants me more than they’re letting on.”

“Who?”

“I heard this guy was practically crying over the fact I turned him down. He was pouting and whining like a baby.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“Oh, I bet Cheollie.”

“Y/n. Did you just call me to try to make fun of me?”

“Me? Make fun of you? I would never. I’m just shocked that more people don’t know the “scary big bad alpha leader” is secretly a little bitch.”

“Y/N, the next time I see you, you’re really in for it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine and you’ll leave crying.”

“We shall see, Bunny.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you saw him you were indeed not in for it. You attended a Gala with your father which, to you, ensured Cheol would do nothing out of line. To say he was scared of your father was an understatement. To be fair everyone is scared of your father, except you. After tagging along with your dad to meet “potential husbands” you tell him you’ve had enough and would rather be shot than get married to which he rolls his eyes.

“Dad, Have you seen Choi SeungCheol?”

“Why? Do you have a crush on him? He’s a very dedicated young man I approve.”

You roll your eyes. “More like he has a crush on me.”

“Good to know. He’s probably upstairs.”

“Thanks. Text me when you’re ready to go.”

You head upstairs trying to not look like you’re searching for him. There's no sign of him or any of his rat friends which is weird. You walk to the bar trying to be mysterious but probably just looking lost and confused.

“Y/N, You look lovely.”

You turn around to see Yuta leaning against a pillar looking as dashing as ever.

“Hi, Yuta.” you say walking up to him and giving him a genuine smile.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Seungcheol”

“Well from the stare I feel boring into my head I can assume he’s behind me.”

You giggle, a little over exaggerated if you're honest but you just want to piss Cheol off if he’s actually behind him.You’re too nervous to look behind Yuta so you keep your eyes on him.

“He’s so dramatic.”

“Are you two dating?”

“Yuta. Look at who you're talking to. I don’t date.”

“You’re right, my bad. But why are you trying to make him jealous?”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“You can’t fool me Y/N.” he says and pulls you into his chest.

“Might as well make your lies good.” he smirks and places a kiss on your jaw making you smile.

“Thanks.” you say as you peek over Yuta’s shoulder and see Cheol get up and walk away with Jeonghan at his side.

“My work here is done” Yuta says and winks as he walks away leaving you to your own accord on the bar.

About an hour later you receive a text from your dad telling you to meet him downstairs. To your utter shock, standing at the door is your father, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan; laughing and chatting like they’ve been friends for years. What the fuck? You rush down the stairs as they wrap up their conversation.

“Dad?”

“Oh, Y/N, let's go, I have some paperwork to draft.” he says, winking at Cheol.

Did they make a deal or something? Jeonghan is just smiling mischievously at you, making you more concerned.

“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Y/N” Cheol says with a smirk as he leaves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fiancé?” You feel like fainting. You feel like killing someone, anyone, you feel like killing Seungcheol.

“What do you mean we're getting married?” you say feeling your temper rise. So this is what they were talking about at the gala? A fucking arranged marriage? God, you feel like crying.

You look at your dad with tears in your eyes. “Dad?”

He sighs. “Y/N, You know I love you, but you need to settle down. And Cheol said you two have been dating for months. Am I so wrong to want to see my daughter marry the man she loves?”

“What are you talking about?” you spit enraged. “I don’t even like Cheol. He’s so fucking annoying and I don’t want to settle down! Especially with him.”

Cheol walks up to you with a smooth smile. “Baby, Don’t be like that. It really hurts when you act like you don’t want me.”

You feel like killing him. Matter of fact, you will kill him. You run over to the living room center table and take out one of the many guns stashed there. Your dad quickly grabs you, probably anticipating your actions.

“Dad I don’t want to marry him” you say as you start to cry, throwing yourself on the floor.

“Y/N. I’ve spoiled you for too long. It’s time for you to face the real world.” your dad says as he pats your shoulder. “Cheol, I’ll see you around. Take Y/N to your house, let her see her new home.”

You feel like your world is falling apart. You did wish for this, but now that you have it, it doesn't taste as sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You glare at Cheol from across the dining room table. He looks so fucking smug as he eats with his 12 fucking gremlins. God, You want to fucking break something. Why does he get to do this to you? He’s taking it too fucking far. You’re being forced to “meet his friends” like you give a fuck about any of them, but come to think of it, maybe you could use them to your advantage.

You turn to the man on your left who has barely spoken a word to anyone but Jeonghan this entire time. “Joshua, Right?”

“That's me,” he says with a sweet smile. You see straight through him though, he’s probably awful.

“Maybe if I met you first I wouldn’t be here. You are much cuter than Cheol.” you pout. His smile just widens and he shakes his head. “It’s a little too late unfortunately, maybe in another life.”

“I don’t see why not in this life.” you say as you run your finger across his hand resting on the table.

He looks at your hand and back at you. “Do you want him to murder me?”

“I’d rather he murder me at this point.” you sigh.

“Y/N.” Cheol growls out making you sigh more dramatically.

“Yes, Cheollie?” you say sarcastically as ever.

“Why are you flirting with Joshua?”

“I was just wondering if he could actually make me cum. I’d love to have one last orgasm before I marry you and be bound to a life of awful sex.”

The room becomes eerily silent. You doubt anyone is even breathing. Joshua is looking like he wants to murder you but you're having the time of your life.

“Come here.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. Woah. He’s not fucking around anymore. You get your ass up and walk around the table feeling all eyes on you. As you round the edge you gulp.

“Take a seat.”

You need to take a deep breath. You feel like all the air in the room is being sucked out. You sit in his lap and look in his eyes.

“Any other request, Daddy?” you say with a smirk.

Making someone behind you choke on his drink and another clear his throat.

Cheol’s hand flys to your throat and pulls your face towards him, forcing the little air in it out. “Don’t fucking play with me.” he spits into your ear.

“And what are you gonna do about it? Not make me cum?” you smile as his hand tightens. You can tell he’s embarrassed, not only are you embarrassing him but you're embarrassing him in front of his friends.

“Y/N. If I do remember correctly, the last time we fucked, you were crying and begging me to stop, clearly your the one who can’t handle some good dick. Two orgasms and you tap out?”

“I’ve always been told I’m a great actor.”

“Well let me refresh your memory.”

He pushes everything in front of him off the table and lays you flat on your back.

“Y/N, I try so hard. I try to be kind, to be sweet, to be the man you would want.” he says as he takes his steak knife and cuts through your top. “But it seems that's not the man you deserve. You deserve someone who will treat you like the fucking bitch you are, you just want someone to fuck you like a whore huh? You go around giving this pussy up to everyone, about time I make it mine.”

You try to defend yourself but his hand on your throat only tightens. “Josh, Hold her hands down for me won’t you?”

Cheol looks down at you. “Since this is a community pussy, I’m sure you won’t mind if I use some help.” he smiles down at you.

He pulls your pants off your body leaving you in just your bra and panties.

“My beautiful, Fiancé”

“Cheol Stop.” you say as you push your hips into him. You don’t even know what you want. You want to get up and stab him but you want to feel him stretch you open as his friends look. Actually you just want to piss him off.

“Stop? I don’t think I want to.”

“Joshua, take a good look. This is what you’re gonna get next.” you say smiling at Joshua.

One second you're smirking at Joshua and the next your cheek is on fire. Did this motherfucker just slap you?

“Don’t look so shocked baby. You don't remember being on your knees, begging me to slap that pretty face?”

Your cheeks heat up. God, he’s humiliating you.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He begins to harshly rub your clit over your panties, just the way you like it.. “I don’t think you want me to stop anyways. This pussy is dripping for me.”

“Are you sure it's dripping for you?”

He just chuckles. “You’re not gonna be able to fucking move tommorrow.”

He pulls your panties off and throws them to the center of the table. “A treat for one of you.” He plays with your clit some more, pinching it and rolling it making you get closer and closer to the edge.

“I would stretch you out, but I doubt I need to. I’m sure sluts like you keep themselves nice and stretched.” You don’t even know when he unzipped his pants, let alone pulled out his dick. He rubs his tip through your folds making your eyes roll back. Youre already so fucking overstimulated, all the eyes on you, his degrading words, and the fact that you haven’t fucked anyone in weeks is killing you.

“Beg.” he says looking into your eyes.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” he says and tucks himself back into his pants. “And none of them are going to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen at this. Fuck. What do you want more? Your pride or dick? Ugh, and he already has you so close to an orgasm.

“Please.” you whisper.

“Did you say something?”

“Please.” you say a little louder.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Louder”

“Please fuck me Cheol!”

“Louder” he smirks, making you groan.

“Please fuck me Cheol, I need it so fucking bad.” you frustratedly yell out

“There we go.” he says and he slides in bottoming out. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, immediately setting a beyond brutal pace.You have a feeling he wants it to hurt. It feels like he’s in your guts, you can barely breathe. Every thrust is sending you further up the table. You can’t even grip onto anything due to Joshua’s harsh grip.

“God.” you moan out.

“Don’t call for God, he can’t help you.” he grunts as he somehow fucks you harder causing the skin on your thighs to begin to sting. “Cheol, Please.”

“Please what, Baby?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Oh, Now I can make you cum? What happened to all that talk from before?”

“Cheol, I need it so bad.”

“I don’t care. Don’t cum.”

You hate this motherfucker. Tears begin to flow from your eyes from frustration and pleasure. “Cheol Please.”

“No.”

You were never one to listen anyways. You let go and cum all over him making him stop thrusting. “You’re real bold, baby.”

A harsh slap lands directly on your clit making your back arch. He hits you again and again, ruining your post orgasm bliss. “You know what? You want to cum? Then cum.” He begins thrusting again, rubbing your clit in the way he knows you like. Moments like this you wish he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. He thrusts straight into your g-spot making you moan loudly, coming out more as a scream. “Feel good, baby?” he smirks as you begin to cry more.

“It feels so good.” you moan.

“Cum for me.”

After a few more thrust you cum turning your face and looking straight into Jeonghan’s eyes. You can’t believe he’s letting all his friends watch this. Just the thought makes you cum even harder, to the point where you start squirting over his chest, making his white button down turn clear.

“Oh look at you, baby. Squirting all over me.”

How is this man still going? You feel like you’re going to pass out and you know you’re not close to done.

“Cheol I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t take it anymore.” you breathe out.

He just laughs at you. “I don’t care.” he says looking you dead in the eye.

He keeps up his brutal pace making you groan. “Cheol please.”

“Shut the fuck up and take it.”

You start squirming and trying to break out of Joshua’s hold.

“Don’t run, baby. Take what I give you.”

Fuck. That was hot. You clench on him, making him groan. “You like that? You like having to sit here and take it? Not having a choice but to be my personal sex toy?”

This is why you wanted him so bad. He knows how to fuck you, he knows what to say, he knows how to treat you, break you, put you in your place.

“Cheol, I’m cumming.”

He pulls out right before you tip over. Cumming over your stomach and chest. Joshua lets go of your hands and you shoot up with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

He pulls you in for a kiss and whispers against your lips. “Next time you want to be a brat, remember this feeling.” He winks and tucks himself into his slacks.

“I’ll see you baby, I have work to do.”

With that everyone gets up and leaves, trying to hide their hard ons and pretend they aren’t phased. When you look around for your panties you see theyre gone. You look at the guys and see your pretty pink panties sticking out of Joshua's pocket.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups x reader

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