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hwaslayer · 1 month ago

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wildfire (cs) | eight.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 9.3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, we see prof choi in full professor mode in this chapter rawrrrr, NAS (or NSA, i know i might've said both lmao same thing!) conference is here - time for everyone to get buck wild! jk lol, san gets slightly jealous, bar scenes, alcohol consumption/intoxication, unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, san x oc are just super cute and sweet per usual, iono ppl are onto them tho lol, some insecurities coming to surface

—a/n: a lil hongjoong piece for those who need it <33

"San." You pick up the phone as you start packing up the last bits of necessities into your luggage. You'd be out of town throughout the weekend until early next week— trying to get the full experience of the NAS conference for the first time.

"Hey baby." You smile to yourself. "All packed up?"

"Mhm. We're about to head to the airport in a few minutes."

"Can't wait to see you at some point." You let out a small laugh, knowing it'll be somewhat hard to be with San and to stay with him during the time you're out there. But, you hope you can at least make a night or something work— San has been too busy since he's gotten there. You're barely able to talk to him unless he's back at the hotel and resting; then, he falls asleep quickly. You know he's been working hard to deliver his talks in between meeting with colleagues he hasn't seen in awhile. Preparing for his highly anticipated lecture for the NAS conference.

You're hoping you'll get your alone time with him and get away from your friends for a little bit.

"You've been busy. Gotta get ready for all that partying too, huh Professor Choi?"

—FLASHBACK

"Are you ready to present at the NAS conference?" You sit criss-crossed on the table while Sunwoo sits next to you, the both of you indulging in the hot breakfast and coffee set out for lab meeting.

"Shit, that's a good question." You laugh. "I don't think I'll ever be."

"You'll do great." You nudge him playfully. "That's why Professor Choi is here to chew your ass out first before you present it to the public."

"You're right. I'd rather have him chew my ass out than anyone else." San walks in with a few people from the lab trailing in behind, and you instantly feel the butterflies swarming your gut. He's dressed pretty casually today— jeans, a loose fitting shirt and a cardigan, his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His cheeks are a rosy tint, soft, black hair framing his face.

"Morning!" He says, sitting in a chair in the first row. "The NAS conference is coming up and we've got about five people from the lab presenting posters. Let's take this time to go through them and discuss any edits or changes before finalizing them." He looks over to you and Sunwoo. "Sunwoo, wanna go first?"

"Not really, but I'll do it for you." You snort, the rest of the lab chuckling in their seats. Sunwoo hops off the table and plugs in his laptop— his poster quickly coming up on the projector screen. "10 minutes?" San nods.

"Try to keep it within 10 minutes, yeah." San leans over onto his knees, focusing on Sunwoo's poster while the rest of the lab listens intently as he presents his projects and relevant data. Sunwoo is speaking quickly, but clearly, trying to cover every important point before his 10-min mark is up. Every now and then, you find your eyes glazing over San and how incredibly sexy he is all focused and in professor mode—

You need to focus.

It doesn't help any further when Sunwoo finishes his presentation and San starts going into detail about the things he should remove from his poster, things he should focus on, even things like:

"And the titles on your poster should be your results." San points up at the screen. "Cause I promise this is great, but it'll be even better if you let your audience know what the result is right off the bat so they know what they can focus on right away. If you keep it vague, you might lose them." San furrows his brows. "Can you go to the middle panel really quickly?" Sunwoo fixes the presentation to San's liking. "Yeah, I think you should add the figure that you left out cause that was the key point. That difference you saw between A and B would be the highlight. It doesn't matter if it feels small, people are gonna wanna see it because it's data. And in your case, it's data that contributes to what your end goal was."

"Yessir!" Sunwoo types away to make sure he captures all the suggestions. Others start throwing their hands up to give Sunwoo more edits that they feel would be appropriate, along with making sure small typos get fixed before then. San looks around the room once the suggestions have died down, eyes quickly landing on you [and now Belle on your other free side] before praising Sunwoo for the poster and calling up the next presenter.

"Goodjob." Belle chuckles as he plops down next to you, letting out a deep sigh.

"Thank god for Professor Choi. I dunno how I'mma do this."

"You'll be fine! You did great up there. Your poster was already good, just add the minor tweaks and it'll be even better." You add.

"My hype women. Thanks." You both laugh and shake your head before listening in on the next poster presentation. The four other presentations go on just as Sunwoo's did— 10 minute presentations followed by San's feedback, along with the lab's. You chime in a few times on coloring choices for graphs and images, pointing out typos and suggesting better titles for some panels as well. San smiles toothlessly at you while he listens, overwhelmed by eagerness to kiss you. Hold you. Show you off.

But, he settles for a nod and a 'thank you' for the suggestions. Giving you one last smile before he turns to the lab around him.

"Any other questions?"

"Professor Choi, tell us about your wild times at NAS." San laughs.

"Sorry to break it to you guys, but I definitely don't have any wild stories from NAS."

"It seemed to be so much crazier when you and the other professors started going a couple of years ago."

"I'm not a fossil." San teases, making the lab laugh. "But, yeah. I guess you could say that. There were lots of after parties throughout the week. If not, people always bar hopped at the bars nearby. I hung out a few times, but never got as wasted."

"It's cause he had Iseul." Belle whispers with a small head tilt. "She even took his fun away. Damn."

"Belle." You look at her and playfully squeeze her arm.

"What! Serious. I still can't believe her." She does a tiny huff and sits back against the wall.

"You should probably ask Professor Bahng or Professor Song for their wild stories cause they definitely had some." San smiles back at the lab.

"Oh, come on Professor Choi! Don't be so shy!" San laughs and shakes his head before standing.

"Any other questions? Great posters, by the way. Send me the final versions by next week so you all have time to print and get it sorted out before the conference."

—END

"Oh, certainly." He playfully rolls his eyes. "I know it's been hectic, and I'm sorry, sweetheart. I keep running into people I haven't seen so I get pulled into last minute things." San sighs a bit, running his hand down his face. "I gotta get ready to meet up with Chris and Mingi. But, I promise we'll get our time down here."

"I know, that's okay. Comes with dating a well known, brilliant professor, I guess." He laughs. "Have fun with them!"

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too." It's scary how much time you've spent with San over the past weeks because now, you're getting used to carving out time and being with him. On the weekends. Slipping out late nights and sleeping over. You don't think your friends are thinking too much about the details, but you just don't know. You've been gone a lot. But, at the end of the day, it still brings you to the fact that you're starting to always long for San and want him around. "I'll be there soon."

"How are you gonna get away? Aren't you sharing an airbnb with your friends?" You nod as if he can see you.

"Mhm. They all plan to go out and do different things throughout the trip, though."

"Let me know whenever you need me to send a car to get you. I'll drop everything." You giggle.

"Send a car for your secret lover? Hot." San snorts.

"Not even, baby. I'd show you off to the world if I could." You pause and let the statement sit a bit, the reality of your situation sinking in a little more than you'd like right now. But, you quickly brush it off; not wanting to ruin the mood or cast an attitude for no reason.

This wasn't San's fault, nor was it yours.

"I know." You respond softly. "Anyway, I should probably head to Eunchae's soon before they start trying to break down my door again."

"Okay." San softly chuckles. "Text me along the way, sweetheart. I'll be waiting 'till you get here."

"I will." San bites his tongue, leaving a small pause in the conversation before he speaks again.

"Mmkay. Bye baby." You answer back before hanging up the call, briefly double-checking everything before you zip up your luggage, grab your personal bag and head out to Eunchae's.

"I was literally just about to go knock on your door." Jiung takes your luggage from you to free your hands.

"Was just making sure I had everything." Eunchae claps and flashes her phone.

"Yay! We're all here. I called the taxi to come and get us." Your group walks out of the building to stand on the curb, the taxi pulling up in the next 5 minutes. It's a van, and it'll fit your group perfectly. The rest of the people you know are either flying out tonight, or throughout the weekend. It'll be an empty week next week, especially for the neuroscience and bioengineering community; most classes have been cancelled due to the conference.

The airport is close to a 50-min drive from campus. As soon as you get there, your group checks in at the individual kiosks, breezing straight through security since it's not during the busy rush hour at the airport. You've got an hour until your flight departs, so once you've found the gate, you and the girlies walk around to buy coffee and snacks. You text San in between, giving him the play by play of what's going on.

San can't wait to see you. He knows you two will make time and figure it out, and he truly can't wait until he gets you all to himself. It's the only thing he can think of, even as he walks around the downtown area with Mingi and Chris before they hit the sports bar to catch the baseball game over some grub and drinks.

"When is everyone else coming?" San is pulled out of his thoughts when Christopher rings out the question while looking at a shirt in a clothing store they had stumbled into.

"Namjoon and Zara are coming tonight, I think Yeosang and Jongho are taking a red eye." Mingi says.

"Yeah, he is. Then they're gonna head to our breakfast get-together like nothing."

"Mhm." Chris puts the shirt back on the rack while continuing to chime in. "Ran into Yunho earlier, so they're definitely here already."

"Tomorrow's breakfast will be fun." Mingi says with a drip of sarcasm.

"Namjoon and his plans, for real." Chris takes a thick jean jacket off of the rack and heads over to the cashier with San and Mingi in tow. "You guys have any other plans while we're here?"

"Got a few meetings outside of the conference, but nothing too major this year." San responds.

"Same." Mingi adds. "Sad they didn't bring back that investigator after party." Chris snorts.

"Because people got too fucked up last time."

"Boo." Mingi playfully boo's.

you: getting on the plane! gonna put my phone on airplane mode. see you later, maybe? 🥰

San smiles at his phone when he sees the text, fingers swiftly typing away to text you back.

san: safe travels, angel.

"Zara texting you?" Mingi tries to peek at his phone.

"No. Cut it out." San furrows his brows at Mingi before playfully pushing him and heading out of the store.

"Then why are you smiling like that, bro?" Chris laughs. "Who are you seeing?"

"No for real, cause I know you aren't distancing yourself from Zara for no reason." San smirks and shakes his head.

"Ready to eat? I'm hungry. The game is about to be on, too."

"Woooow." Chris jokes. "Nah, it'll come out one day."

"Maybe, maybe not." San continues to tease with a big smile.

Meanwhile— when it's time to depart, you sit at the window seat with Jiung and another classmate on the same flight next to you. It's a 3-hour flight, but you brought along your book to read in between taking small naps on Jiung's shoulder. He's busy playing on his switch, fingers moving at wharp speed as he battles through Breath of the Wild. You hear the game tunes while you're in and out of sleep, checking the monitor to see how much longer you've got on this flight. The last half feels like the longest, and it's got you itching in your seat until the captain finally announces they're preparing for landing.

With any flight, getting off always feels the most stressful. You've got people standing, impatiently waiting for their turn to grab their carry-on luggages before rushing down the aisle. You, Jiung and your other classmate are the first from your group to head off the plane, waiting for the rest near the side of the gate. When you've all reunited, Eunchae takes the lead towards the arrivals terminal, calling up another taxi that can take you and your friends to the AirBnB. It's a pretty spacious house right outside of the central downtown area where the conference venue and popular hotels, eateries and shops are located.

The weather feels perfect.

And as soon as you all shuttle over to the shared AirBnB house, it's time to get ready to eat, explore and head to the bars for the first night. Which, feels like crazy work after the airport and flight chaos, but the adrenaline and hype from everyone around you gets you going.

"We're really just gonna go all out tonight?" You fix your outfit in the mirror, throwing on a leather jacket to provide some kinda warmth [and umph to your outfit].

"Yeah, fuck it. We're here!" Jiung finishes pouring shots for everyone. "Here." He carefully slides over a plastic shot glass filled to the brim.

"Jiung." He shrugs.

"Nah, drink up. When's the last time we drank and had fun together, busy bee?" He teases, giving you a look. You playfully roll your eyes and hold onto your serving, waiting for everyone to grab their share before yelling out a loud 'cheers!' and taking the nasty liquid down your throat.

One shot turns to two. To three. Four for some.

It's probably a bad idea that you're strolling the streets tipsy; your arm loosely wrapped around Jiung's as you stroll down a few shops, stumbling into a museum with free admissions for the weekend. You and your friends actually enjoy the exhibits, taking a few pictures along the way for the memories. Eunchae whips out her Instax from time to time, shaking the polaroids she takes before showing it off to the group. You take a few polaroids to keep, slipping them into your wallet to show San when you see him.

After spending a good time roaming around and shopping, you and your friends head to a popular, casual thai restaurant that required a bit of a walk to get to. Luckily for everyone, there isn't much of a wait and you're seated within 15 minutes of arriving. You all decide on ordering a few plates to share from, saving room for more drinks and alcohol for the bar afterwards. As the group continues to talk while waiting for food, you decide this is the perfect opportunity to pull out your phone and see if you had any texts from San.

Which, of course you do.

He just responded not too long ago after you had sent him a few pictures from the museum and roaming around. Reading his texts puts a small smile on your face, and you almost wish you could just be with him at this given moment.

san: you're so cute.

san: sorry my baby, i've been with chris and mingi. we've just been hanging out.

san: think i can see you later tonight?

you: i'll try, sannie. we're going to the bars in a bit.

san: ☹️

you: promise i'll try, okay?

san: okay, but don't sweat it, alright? have fun with your friends, beautiful. enjoy yourself!

"Bruh, hello?" You hear Jiung next to you just as you peep the last response from San, unknowingly wearing a small smile on your lips that has Jiung knitting his brows together. "Who are you texting?" He laughs.

"Nobody, sorry. Was just distracted. What were you saying?" Jiung pauses for a bit because you've been acting a little different and he can't exactly pinpoint what it is. He won't dwell on it now though, he's having a good time with you, your group of friends.

"I was just saying you used to like the cheap ass vodka. We were talking about how our tastes have changed over the years."

"Vodka was not that bad. But, I definitely would not drink it now."

"Iono. Sorry, I think you're alone in this." He shrugs and you playfully hit him on the arm.

"Says you with your nasty Captain Morgan liking ass."

"Oh, come on. That was way better." You pretend to gag. "Captain Morgan brought the best memories for a lot of people." You laugh.

"Shut up."

"Seriously though, why do you seem disconnected? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry. I just got an email about something but it's no biggie."

"Okay, please don't check your emails." Jiung swipes your phone and you feel like your heart drops to your ass when it's in his possession. But, he doesn't glance at it and simply slips it into your bag. "No more. Let's just enjoy ourselves while we're out here."

"You're right." You give him a small smile, knowing you should at least be present with your friends instead of thinking about San. If it's meant to happen, you'll find time for him later.

Once the food comes, the chit-chat dies down and everyone is busy getting their grub in. The group starts talking about some of the plans they have for the rest of the conference, most people planning to meet with old friends who are around. You didn't necessarily make any extra plans thinking you'd be able to sneak away with San for most of it.

It's kinda dumb now that you think about it.

How the hell were you gonna do that?

"Maybe we should just roam around a little more. I can find some things to do." Jiung says and you quietly nod.

"We can just figure it out later." Eunchae says, grabbing her purse. "Alright, russian roulette? Whose card are we putting down?! We gotta get to the bars!" Alas, russian roulette occurs and the waitress ends up picking Felix's card. The rest of you cheer loudly before telling Felix you'll send him your halves once the night has finished to cheer him up. All of you grab your things, making sure to check the table one last time before heading out and walking towards the first bar down the street. Your mind slips to San when you see his hotel come in view up ahead, standing tall some few miles away, but bright. Fancy. Modern. You wonder if he's still out and about with the boys, or if they're heading back to the hotel at this point.

Whatever it was, you were not expecting him to be at the same place, at the same time.

The first bar you get to is spacious, with the front panels of the bar opening out onto the street; high tables and chairs underneath umbrellas filled with groups of people drinking and playing games like Jenga and Connect Four.

You and Jurin are holding hands as you follow the group into the bar, heading off to a free section near the right hand of the establishment. As you walk deeper inside, Jurin suddenly stops in her tracks and you hear her audibly gasp.

"Oh my god." Jurin squeals. "No fucking way!" She turns to you and Eunchae, squeezing your hand. At first, you don't even realize it until Jurin nods behind her. Your eyes widen when you find San, Mingi and Christopher eyeing your group, drinking away at their beers. There's a few other people around them that you're familiar with— also bioengineering professors at other universities. He must have heard Jurin because his eyes shoot straight towards you and he has to force himself not to freeze or smile to big seeing you in the flesh.

"The students have made it out." Mingi laughs.

"Oh hey! Familiar faces!" Chris says, raising his almost empty glass of beer in the air as you all settle into the section in front of their table. San looks at you and gives you a small smirk, biting onto his bottom lip as he fiddles with the napkin beneath his empty glass. Although the chances were somewhat high, San didn't think he'd end up at the same bar with his friends.. and your friends. Truthfully, there's so many bars in the area— he just didn't think it would happen like this.

Literally just falling onto his lap and vice versa.

He's not mad about it, though. He's happy to see you. He's just upset he can't do shit about it.

You give him and his friends tiny curt nods before sitting around on the couches in front of a long table. The same kind of games sit in the center, the boys instantly reaching for Jenga while the girls start putting in orders of a mix of shots and cocktails.

Your group gets loud pretty quick.

Enough for San and his friends to watch as entertainment.

Jenga gets pretty heated, as it usually does. You and your friends are probably the loudest in this corner but you don't really care— everyone's have a good time and not causing trouble despite intoxicated. Chris even starts throwing in some side commentary as he watches the game unfold between you, Felix, Eunchae and Jiung. The tower falls as Jiung tries to slip the wooden piece from the third to last level, almost successful until he abruptly pulls it out from its spot and causes the tower to tumble with a loud crash.

"You're usually better than that!" You tease him.

"Dude, I can't always be good at everything all the time." You laugh. "Besides, where were you?!" He slightly gets in your face, and you're having to playfully push him back by the chest.

San is so..?

He was never really the type to get jealous. San likes to think he's laid back in his relationships and maybe that's where he goes wrong. But tonight, he sees the little flirty tones coming from Jiung. You're drunk and you probably don't realize it, or San is just being dumb because that is your bestfriend. He shakes off the thought because his feelings run deep for you and he doesn't wanna run you off. Clearly, you respect him and vice versa, and not to compare, but you don't have the same mentality and attitude as Iseul.

You're like a breath of fresh air, if that paints a better picture.

He can't help himself when he slightly gets jealous simply because he can't just throw himself on the couch to join your game and tease you. He can't just swing his arm around you and kiss you in front of everyone, he can't just hold your hand and do all that cute, lovey-dovey shit. Which in hindsight, sucks. But, he has you and that's enough to keep him going at this point.

Your group continues to play and cheer loudly, providing entertainment for the professors until they find the bar getting too loud, too crowded and too.. full of university students and postdocs attending the conference— it's definitely a good time to head out.

"Let's head out?" Chris closes out the tab with his card. San's eyes subtly scan you heading to the bathroom, giving him an opportunity to see you for a second because god, he can't fucking help it.

"Yeah. Let me just head to the bathroom." The boys nod, telling him they'll wait outside in the crisp night air. Chris and the rest quickly say their byes to your group as they pass and head outside, San already turning the corner to the hidden hallway at the back of the bar that leads to the bathrooms. San lingers around the bathroom doors nervously, wiping his grubby hands down his jeans. When the bathroom door swings open, you jump at the sudden figure waiting around, the smile on your face growing quickly when you realize who it is.

"Hey you." San smiles that 100-watt, dimpled smile you cherish and adore so much, a small giggle leaving your lips when he leans against the wall and taps your nose.

"In public?"

"You think I wasn't gonna use the bathroom excuse to come see you for a quick second? Insanity." You laugh.

"Hi Sannie."

"So cute." He lets out a breath. "We're heading out, just wanted to say bye before we do." His hand falls on your hip and gives it a squeeze. "Was hoping to steal a kiss."

"We might get in trouble." He chuckles.

"By who?" He presses you against him. "C'mere." He almost whines. You tippy-toe and kiss him on the lips, leaving San to look at you dazed through hooded lids. He chases quickly for another small peck, feeling satisfied enough with the two kisses in a hidden hallway; could keep him going for the remainder of the night 'till he sees you again. "Can you let me know if you wanna come over? I'll hop in a car and come get you."

"Mmkay."

"Y/N! Bae! Are you yacking?!" You push off of San when you hear Jurin's voice echo into the hallway, tucking hair behind your ear as San turns over his shoulder to greet her nonchalantly. "Oh shit?— I mean, hi Professor Choi."

"Hey." He gives her a toothless smile. "Anyway, nice running into you, Y/N." He turns to you with a wink before excusing himself. "Be safe tonight, ladies."

"Will do." Jurin scurries off to your side, giggling while San makes his way back outside to meet his boys. "Girl, what the fuck did I just interrupt?"

"Nothing? He was just saying hi."

"In a secret hallway? Outside of the bathrooms?" She snorts. "Please. You know, I'd support you if you were getting into trouble with him."

"Jurin." You give her a look, internal temp rising at hearing Jurin say things like that.

"Okay, babe." She links her arm with yours. "Glad you weren't yacking, though. Unless Professor Choi saved you there, too."

"Oh my god." When you get back to your friends, as expected, Jurin continues to tease you about the whole San encounter. It doesn't make it any easier when Eunchae joins in, drunkly trying to convince everyone that San actually has the hots for you.

It goes over everyone's heads when the bar gives your friends another round of shots on the house. Thankfully.

When a good hour and a half passes, the group decides it's time to head to another bar.

And another.

To drink more, to play games, to dance, to be loud. Though, all you really want now is to be with San.

As the last bar gets a little too crowded and chaotic for your liking, you start to wind down on the drinks— feeling a bit too full, too tipsy, than you planned to be tonight. You check the time, and it's getting close to 11pm, people still high on energy. The night doesn't seem to be dying down soon, but all you can think of is getting to San and cuddling up to him all night. The need to be with him is incredibly strong right now, and you don't think you'll let the night pass without being alone with him.

What can you tell your friends this time?

"I'm gonna head out." You let Jiung know, dipping close to his ear.

"What?" He looks at you, confused.

"I'm just gonna go—" He doesn't even let you finish when he's cutting you off, ready to leave with you.

"Then, let me come with—"

"No. I promise I'm good, Jiung. You stay and have fun, please."

"Who are you heading out with?" You pause for a second, trying to come up with anything that'll get you off the hook without being too suspicious.

"I'm meeting up with Sunwoo, Belle and people from the lab at another bar."

"Do you want me to at least head over with you if its close?"

"I'm calling Uber. Promise I'll be okay." He's hesitant, but he doesn't push.

"Text me when you get there, then." He gives you a look and you nod. At this point, the Uber is pulling up to the bar you're at— the driver giving you a call to let you know he's made it out front. You quickly tell Eunchae, Felix, Jurin and your other friends that you're heading out to see your labmates and luckily, no one bats an eye.

Besides Jiung, maybe. Only out of worry, you think. He's coming from a good place. Everyone else is too busy enjoying themselves, kick starting the trip on a good note.

He just thinks it's weird.

When you hop in the Uber, you confirm your endpoint destination before leaning your head against the window. The driver's got the AC on blast, which is definitely your saving grace right now. You don't realize just how drunk you've gotten until you're resting in the back seat of this car, hoping the ride doesn't contain too many twists and turns on the side streets until you get to San's 5-star hotel.

It doesn't. Thankfully.

It's a good 15-min ride away from the bar, just a few turns and tiny hard brakes due to unexpected street traffic. But, the ride feels quick. You shoot San a text and he re-tells you he's on the 14th floor, room 1412. He asks if you need him to meet you downstairs and you say no, clearly remembering that San said the other professors typically stay at this hotel, too.

In which, you miss Yunho passing you on the opposite side of the lobby. He feels like he saw you, but wasn't confident enough to say exactly. It wasn't uncommon for students to book rooms at this hotel— it just wasn't a top choice due to price despite the close proximity to the conference venue. Yunho can't help but do a double take just as you head to the elevator, realizing it was too late to get a good look at you.

Definitely feels familiar.

You slip into an empty elevator, pressing the button to the 14th floor multiple times until the elevator doors shut. You shoot your friends a text to let them know you've arrived and all is well, giving them a heads up that you might be sticking with Belle for the night and to not wait up. No one responds, so you figured your friends were still busy enjoying themselves and they'd see the text at some point. You rub your arms at the sudden drop of temperature in the elevator, looking at your mesh shirt and your black leather mini skirt through the mirrors on the walls. Truthfully, after a couple of hours out and being enclosed in a stuffy bar, you're surprised you still look put-together. You fix at your baby hairs and adjust your skirt a bit, still feeling wobbly and like the world is slightly spinning. The elevator dings and the doors slide open, pulling you out of your thoughts as you step out and look around for the hallway that leads to San's room. It's at this moment you realize you don't have anything with you— no clothes or things to shower with— and you're praying San [or the hotel] has some extras he could spare for you.

You know you're definitely staying the night.

1412 finally comes into view and you feel your heart skip a beat, a big smile growing on your lips as you knock on the door a few times. You hear shuffling in the background before San swings the door open, revealing himself in sweats and a white tank.

You feel your knees buckle, core throbbing and aching for him badly.

"San!" You squeal, jumping onto him. He laughs, holding you tightly. "Finally!"

"Baby." He tuts. "You should've let me know when you were ready so I could come back out and get you."

"I made it, though! I told Jiung I was seeing Sunwoo and Belle somewhere."

"Hm." San hums. "Do you even know where Sunwoo and Belle are?"

"Nope." He laughs. "Mm'drunk." You pout as you drop down and look up at him.

"I see, pretty girl. Did you have fun?"

"I did. But, I wanted to come over already. I wanted to cuddle."

"You can have all the cuddles you want." San smiles, brushing your hair back before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "You look amazing, baby. Any guys slip you their number after we left?"

"Maybe?" You tease and he pouts. "I'm kidding. I'd toss it anyway."

"Yeah?" He laughs.

"Sannie." You whine, wrapping your arms around him drunkly. "You know what else sounds good right now?" He chuckles, holding you close while rubbing at your sides.

"What's that?"

"A chocolate chip cookie with ice cream."

"I can call room service again." He smiles, brushing your hair back. "Why don't you go get washed up and comfy, angel?"

"Mmkay." San presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing you one of his shirts to change into and setting it on the edge of the bed. "Come on." He leads you to the bathroom, helping you out of your boots and your clothes before checking the water temp and getting you into the shower. The hot water feels good against your skin, almost helping you sober up a bit more as you let your body relax. San calls for room service to order your dessert, along with requesting for your clothes to be dry-cleaned and returned in the morning. San hears you drop one of the bottles in the shower, causing him to peek into the bathroom to hear you giggling.

"You okay in there, love?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just trying to do the body wash but it slipped." San smiles to himself.

"Careful." He rests back against the headboard after hanging up your clothes on a hanger and slipping it through the plastic cover. You take another 10 minutes before you step out of the steamy shower in nothing but a towel. San turns to watch you from the bed, door cracked just enough to see you lathering up with the hotel's free lotion sitting on the bathroom counter. He has to pull himself together when the knock from room service comes, San hurriedly getting the door to grab the dessert and hand off your clothes. You hear San tell whoever is at the door to charge everything to his room before the door shuts close and he's back on the bed.

"Who was that?"

"Room service."

"Did you actually order the cookie?!" He nods.

"Yeah, and sent your clothes off for dry cleaning."

"San." You pout. "You didn't have to."

"Don't worry about it." He looks at you from the bed. "C'mere. Your ice cream is gonna melt." He has a hand behind his head as he lazily rests on the bed and against the headboard. He pats his free side, TV softly playing in the background.

"I gotta change." You walk out and sit on the edge of the bed near him, still wrapped in your towel.

"I mean, you don't really need to. I'll probably get you out of that shirt in a bit anyway." He smirks.

"Mm." You hum. "Don't say things like that, Choi San." You unwrap the bowl with a mini cookie pie sitting inside, vanilla ice cream on top starting to melt into it.

"Still drunk?" San rubs your arm and presses a light kiss to your shoulder.

"Not too bad. Shower definitely helped. This will absolutely help." He chuckles. "Thank you." You turn to him just as you take a spoonful.

"Course." He lets out a breath as he continues to watch you eat. "I missed you." He lays small, feathery kisses on your arm.

"I did too, Sannie. How was hanging out with the boys?" He shrugs.

"It was good. I'm just tired. But I'm glad you're here." You giggle as you look at him, his arm now wrapped behind you.

"Want some? It's good!" You feed San another spoonful, a wad of vanilla ice cream sticking to the corner of his lips. Kinda brings you back to the first time you kissed him, except, circumstances are definitely different now.

Aka you missed San, and you've been yearning for him.

"It is good!" You smirk, placing the spoon down on the edge of the plate before coming down to lick the ice cream off from the corner of his lips. You maintain eye contact with him while you gently grip his jaw, placing a kiss to the same corner after licking off the ice cream clean.

"I got you." You say softly, causing San to smirk wider.

"So fucking sexy, swear to God." It almost comes off as a low growl. "Uh-uh. You're not going anywhere after that." You squeal when San pulls you back down with some force, instantly pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

"San—" You giggle in between kisses, letting out another loud squeal when he sits you on his lap, giving you full access to straddle him. "My towel!"

"Fuck the towel." You laugh, letting San tear off the towel from your body, tossing it aside. The kiss turns sloppy, wet; the both of you licking into each other's mouths while you slowly rut against him. He's quick to rip off his tank, chasing after your lips because he doesn't wanna waste a second away from you. The need, want, is strong; as if the universe has kept you and San away from each other for light years.

Every touch, every kiss, burned like ember— fueled by desire, cravings. Spreading quick like a wildfire: consuming, impossible to contain.

"Missed you so much, baby." San whispers against your skin as you settle back on his lap after shredding off his pants and boxer briefs, his hands caressing your back. You line him up at your entrance, slowly sinking down onto his hard cock. He nods eagerly, hazing eyes looking up at you as he relaxes again— hand behind his head while you lazily rock your hips back and forth to adjust the feeling. "Gonna be my good girl and ride me? Gonna use me like you need to?"

"San." You breathily moan, head cocking back in pure pleasure when you find the perfect rhythm to work with. Your hands rest on his abs, hips swirling and slowly working in circular motions on his rock hard cock.

"Oh fuck— just like that sweetheart." He lets out a groan, looking up at you through hooded lids while he continues to let you do all the work. "Fuck, yes—" He moans loudly, matching your tone as you pick up your pace. He hisses in between, hearing your slickness against him while you go between bouncing on his cock to rolling your hips— clit rubbing against him so deliciously it's fulfilling that desire, craving, for San within you. San is completely taken by how mesmerizing, yet so sinful you look riding him the way that you are; pretty perked tits, beautifully shaped curves, plump lips.

"Sannie, feels so good— mmshit." You mewl, fucking him faster as your hands crawl up to his neck— gripping around the base at just the right pressure.

"Baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep moving on my shit like that— fuuuuck." He lets out a loud, choked moan as you continue; fast, rough. Both of your moans blending into each other's, names being called like a mantra. The scene is nothing short of pornographic, loud, wet noises of skin against skin bouncing off of the walls while you continue to ride your man into the next lifetime. "Fucking me so good. So perfect. All mine." He praises you.

So pretty.

My girl.

All mine.

No one else's.

"Close. Please cum with me." You whimper and beg, hips now getting sloppier, messier.

"Yeah, that's it. Let me feel you." Your hips continue to work him, pleasure building at your core until you finally tip over the edge; stilling in your position while you moan filthily, trembling as your orgasm washes over you completely. "Yes baby, yes— give it to me." Your hands are now on San's chest to keep you steady, San roughly fucking up into you. Hearing you whine, along with the way your walls tightly clenching around his dick is enough for him to unravel; his turn to whine and whimper while digging his hands into the flesh of your hips. He groans as he releases every drop inside of you, chest heaving as he tries to regulate himself and calm down from the orgasm hitting him too hard.

"Oh my god." You pant, slowly sliding off of him when you finally muster the rest of your energy to do so. You plop next to him, San also still trying to regain some energy post-high.

"Sounds about right." He chuckles. "That was amazing, angel." San presses a kiss to your head before grabbing some napkins to help clean the both of you up.

"Was a good time using you." You tease, scooting next to him. "Before I forget, I have something." You lean over the side of the bed to grab the polaroid from your purse, turning onto your tummy to show it to San.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart." He smiles, grabbing it from your hands and slipping it into his phone case turned wallet. He slides it into one of the sleeves before setting his phone back down on the nightstand and pecking you on the lips. "Thank you."

"You're really gonna keep it there?" He nods.

"I always have my phone with me so, yeah."

"What if it slips out and falls?"

"I would never let that happen to your picture." He chuckles, watching as you fall back onto the mattress and allowing San to pull you into his arms. "You guys look like you really enjoyed yourselves on the first night."

"Mm. Yeah. We had fun. I'm just happy to be here now."

"Thank whoever took that cute ass photo of you for me." You laugh and nod.

"What're you doing tomorrow? Any plans before or after the first day of the conference?"

"Hm. I have breakfast with Namjoon and everyone in the morning. Not sure about nighttime, but I'd carve out time for you." You smile.

"Breakfast with the group sounds nice. And god, I hope I can come over again, but I think Jiung and Eunchae wanna explore. We'll see." He nods, pressing a kiss to your head. "Wish I could just stay here, San."

"You could." You look at him and he lets out a small laugh, brushing your hair back. "I know, baby. One day, we won't have to keep planning around like this."

"I know."

"Would you travel with me?" San continues to look down at you as you rest on his bare chest.

"If I had the money to. And if it wasn't too suspicious for class and such." He nods. "You're traveling often these next weeks."

"Mhm. But, I wish you could be there with me. Wish I didn't have to leave you back there with my friends and Jeong Yunho." You chuckle.

"I wish I could too, Sannie."

"Come to the coast side with me for the Baskin conference, at least. Please?" San traces faint shapes on your side. "Students head off to conferences all the time. It won't be that suspicious for you to travel for this, too."

"You sure, babe? Cause what student can even afford to head to multiple conferences in a short amount of time?"

"I've seen a good amount. It's not that uncommon." He shrugs, and you let out a small sigh. "No pressure. But, I really want to be there with you. I'll take care of your ticket and everything. I'm sure your professors will understand, too." He gently kisses your forehead. "And.. maybe, I can take you around the world with me in the future."

"Is that what you want?"

"More than anything."

"I want that, too."

"Then, let's make it happen." You giggle against him, shutting your eyes as the exhaustion slowly takes over your body. San's warmth engulfs you as he continues to hold you close, keeping the TV on until he feels himself getting sleepy. Its nights like these that make him feel whole, that make him feel like he's on top of the world again. And god, does he love this feeling— the feeling that you bring to him, the euphoria he gets whenever he's around you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Making love to you.

There's nothing more that he wants than to keep you happy, and he'll keep himself here for as long as he can.

"Night, baby." He whispers against your forehead, leaving sweet, gentle kisses to your face until he settles under the sheets properly and keeps you close.

The next days are filled with jam-packed information from the conference, with you, Jiung and a few colleagues checking out the scheduled talks and chopping it up with vendors to see what the latest versions of supplies and equipment are. Today was San's talk, along with other keynote speeches and poster session day, so you were up and at 'em early to support your man and Sunwoo. You tried your best to not relive the weekend to avoid any mishaps or slip ups, avoiding any conversation or confrontation about it this entire time.

And you were doing good, especially since the days were hectic.

Until said tiny slip up passes by so unexpectedly.

You were so, so close.

—FLASHBACK

"Oh, aye! She's here! Nice to see you!" Your labmates quickly say hello as they pass you in the opposite direction. "It would've been nice to see you at the bar the other night, Y/N!"

"Wait what, I thought you went?" Jiung furrows his brows at you, and you feel your palms get all sweaty.

"That group went somewhere else."

"Oh? But, you, Sunwoo and Belle stayed behind?"

"Mhm."

"Y/N, if you're hooking up with someone in the lab, you can just say so." He snorts and you playfully punch him on the bicep.

"Ew, no! I'm not, Jiung." You pout. "We just liked the bar we were at."

"Hm." Jiung hums. "Okay then." He shrugs, still not really believing you left to meet up with Sunwoo and them. But, he digresses. He'll let you open up to him when you're ready. Jiung just knows, though.

Jiung knows you haven't really been seeing your mom.

Jiung knows you didn't really see Sunwoo and Belle.

And he could probably thank the fact that he knows you so well— he knows that a lie is hard for you to keep up with. It'll unravel, eventually. It is. Slowly.

What it actually is, though, he's curious?

What is it that you can't even tell him, your bestfriend?

—END

"Where's Professor Choi's talk?"

"In the Verve conference room. I think it's on the opposite side." You pull out the venue map.

"We should go so we can get good seats. Same thing for Professor Kim's talk right after." You nod, clinging onto Jiung's arm to navigate the sea of people making their way around the venue to get to particular talks and poster sessions currently happening for different branches of neuroscience subjects. When you get to the Verve conference room, there's still some spots open, but not too many. You, Jiung and your colleagues slip into the fourth row towards the end, still getting a good view of the stage from the seats. There's still about another 10 minutes before San's scheduled to speak, but the room filled up quickly after you and your friends arrived. You spot Zara slipping into a front row seat with Mingi. Your eyes linger on her for a little longer than you'd like, seeing how she sits so prim and proper— a huge smile on her face as she patiently waits for San to get on stage.

You can't say you don't feel a little scared and insecure seeing her. You do. She's right up his alley, and one day, he could see that.

He could see the reality of this.

Before you can fall into the rabbit hole, the lights dim and the host steps on stage to introduce San. Your man steps onto the stage in black dress pants, a white button up and matching black vest and tie. He's got his rimless frames on, hair falling neatly to the sides of his face, his forehead. He kicks off his talk, his voice enough to captivate the audience from the get-go. You are truly enamored and in complete awe every time San does a talk. The stage isn't huge, but enough for him to pace around. He always has presentation slides, but his slides contain more photos and figures than words. He does a brief glance at the current slide, pacing around the stage slowly as he explains its contents in a smooth, calm manner. He has a hand in his pant pocket, while the other is used for hand gestures at the same time as holding the slide clicker. Other times, both hands are out for gestures. You know San never uses the same presentation for every talk, so it's crazy to see him discuss each point so perfectly; enough to paint its picture, but not overwhelming with details. He always scans the audience, his eyes falling on you a few times amidst the talk. He has brief pauses, speaks without slipping in filler words. When he smiles and slips in small jokes, he has the ability to make everyone feel the same energy tenfold— entire audience smiling, nodding or chuckling in response. He answers every question during the Q&A session, being able to express his thoughts and concerns freely without holding back.

He is honest, and he is the definition of passionate when it comes to his craft.

When his time is up, he gives the audience a bow before seeing himself off the stage and down into the audience to talk to a few people. Most are heading out to catch other talks, while others are lingering to get even a second in with San. The first person that lingers around and sticks by San's side is Zara, along with Christopher. They all chat together before San is acknowledging colleagues around them— some very well-known professors from global universities, some Nobel laureates. It's crazy to see San in this environment outside of school, the lab, because it's still crazy to know he's considered young in his field but incredibly talented and sought out.

"I'm gonna say hi to Professor Choi." Jiung nods.

"Okay. We should get to Professor Kim's talk soon, though."

"We will." You nod, leaving him behind with your colleagues who are now talking to other professors and familiar faces nearby. You waltz over to San, slowly slipping your way through while he's talking to Zara a bit more. His eyes land on you and they instantly light up, causing Zara to break and put a pause in their conversation when you approach them.

"Hi Professor Choi, Professor Cho. Really great talk you did." You shyly say to him, keeping it professional and lowkey.

"Thank you." He smiles at you. "This is Y/N, she's the rotation student in my lab." San looks over at Zara. She smiles at you and takes your hand in a gentle shake. She's sweet, you think. And she definitely still has the hots for your man.

"Yes, hi Y/N! I've heard lots about the work you've already done in Professor Choi's lab. He seems to be a big fan." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks before you chuckle and brush off the comment.

"Oh, really? I'd hope so." You briefly look at San, who is just standing there— pursing his lips together in a fine line to prevent himself from smirking too big. But, his eyes tell all, and the brief moment Zara looks between you two; it's a little clearer to her who you might just be to him. "It's really nice to meet you Professor Cho. Your talk was great."

"Thank you. Definitely was not as major as Professor Choi's though, talk about the turnout." She looks around, then looks up at him. There's awe, admiration, probably even a sprinkle of lust if you look closely.

Could be just you, but whatever. You know that look when you see it. Plus it's San— who the fuck wouldn't?

"Nah, not even. Your talk was amazing and had just the right amount of info. Not too heavy, flowed easily." He reassures her and you awkwardly stand there before tucking a strand of hair back and excusing yourself.

"I agree with him." You chime in. "Anyway, sorry have to cut this short, but I have to get going to Professor Kim's talk. Just wanted to pop in and praise you both for the amazing talks." You look at Zara again as she continues to stick to San's side. "It was lovely to formally meet you, Professor Cho." You give San one last, toothless smile before re-joining Jiung near the exit doors of the conference room, heading straight to the opposite end to hear Namjoon's lecture starting in the next 10 mins. As Zara returns her attention to San, she finds his eyes still lingering on you even as you leave.

And she could be reading it all wrong, but she, too, knows that look when she sees it.

"Uh, so." San says, finally meeting her eyes. "I'm gonna head over to Namjoon's in a few too, if you'd like to join me." She shakes her head.

"I've gotta meet up with an old colleague in a bit. We'll try and catch it if we can, but we've got lots of catching up to do." San nods.

"Well, enjoy yourself, Zara." He smiles. "I'll catch you around." He steps away, shaking hands and briefly greeting a few others on his way out, leaving Zara behind to navigate through the crowd on her own. She eventually finds her colleague going down the row of posters set up along the side of the main venue room, waving to her to get her attention. She jogs over and gives her a tight hug, one that she feels like she really needed at this time.

"Hey you!" Zara says. "Sorry, San's talk just wrapped up."

"Oh, you don't say?" Her colleague and friend, Yu, says teasingly. "How was San's talk? How's it been working with him? Have you two gotten closer or whatever?" She smirks at her and Zara shakes her head with a small, choked up chuckle.

"It was great! Amazing as usual." She looks at the ground. "We're just colleagues, and I'm afraid it'll stay that way. Probably best, anyway."

"What?! I thought there was a little spark?! It sounded like it was gonna go somewhere and I was so excited to hear the next episode!" Zara laughs.

"It's fine, I promise. He's got his eyes on someone else and I think he's happy." Not gonna lie, as she explains this, all she can think about is: how heartbreaking.

Of course, she can't say for certain. She's going off of gut feelings and subtle [but obvious] actions. But even if it were true, she can't help but question: why? All of it would be so, so wrong on the surface level. You'd be dating your professor, and the both of you could ruin a lot of things for each other.

Perhaps, San sees it all as worth it.

Zara wonders what you do that makes him feel that way. In hindsight, they could have been good for each other. It felt like it. She thought they'd hit it off from their small meetings and the way she slowly learned more things about him. They were professors well on their way to bigger things. Even though she had nothing but assumptions, she still couldn't shake the feeling she had in her gut.

Where did she lack that you made up for?

—read 8.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny

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goldfades · 11 months ago

Note

"i'll fill you up to the brim" and "I love the way you look when I'm inside you" with either quinn or luke

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | qh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 327

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion. p in v, mention of cum, praise

♡ ─ ev's notes | i decided to do quinn because no one has been requesting for him :( ALSOOO i didn't use the exact prompt but it's kinda like it, hope you enjoy it nonetheless lmao

"Fuck, sweetheart." Quinn's groan filled the room as he slipped into you slowly, making your entire body shake with pleasure. His voice was rough as he slowly bottomed you out, your cunt clenching around him. The stretch burned but you knew the pain would subside as you got used to his length. You moaned at the feeling of being so full, you could swore you could feel him in your guts.

Quinn's head fell back as he bottomed you out, "Shit. Gonna fill you up, huh sweetheart?"

You nodded quickly as he began to fuck into you, his hands holding down your hips so you couldn't move. As his thrusts grew deeper and faster, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The sound of your moans combined with the sloppy noises in between was music to Quinn's ears as he kept his pace fast and deep, the way you liked it.

One of Quinn's hands clasped your neck in an effort to ground himself as he rammed into your cunt roughly, he didn't wanna cum so quick. But as he felt you clench around his cock, he knew you were close too.

"Love the way you look when I'm inside you, baby. You look so fucking good." Quinn rasped as his mouth attacked your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

"So close, Quinny, so close." You whimpered out as your fingers gripped his hair roughly, your head falling back into the pillow.

"Cum for me, princess. You can do it, come on." Quinn praised as he kept thrusting in and out of you, not slowing down as he felt you clench around him.

"Fuck, I'm cumming!" You cried out loudly as you shook, letting the orgasm wash over you. Quinn was close behind you, keeping his pace quick as he felt his own orgasm coming.

"Me too, baby." He finally spilled into you, letting his cum drip outside of your cunt as he pulled out.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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hystixia · 1 year ago

Text

WARNINGS 、NONCON, CHOKING, SIZE KINK, CERVIX FUCKING, DEGRADATION

NOTE 、ignore spelling errors and whatnot. i literally dont even have time to format this properly rn sorry </3 this is lowkey shit so im sorry again LMAO

You don’t know if it’s possible, but Jeff Mason found a way to completely turn your brain off. Your tongue is lolled out, eyes rolled back into your skull as you babble out whimpers and begs and incoherent slurs of his name hanging off your seemingly numb wet muscle. However he is proud of the state you’re in because of him. After all, you were his whether you liked it or not.

“Nothin’ but a dumb fuckin’ slut, huh?” He breathes out with a smirk, breath hot against your neck and his body caging yours against the soft blankets and sheets of your bed. He’s so much bigger, so much stronger than you that despite your efforts to wriggle away from his painfully good thrusts, he keeps you locked in place with his large hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave marks. “That’s right, just a needy cocksleeve, hm? Too dumb to think, just made to take my cock. Isn’t that right, doll?”

You can’t reply, he knows you’re unable to fathom a single response in that fucked dumb head of yours. Yet he still talks to you in a mocking tone, grinning sinisterly at your glassy eyes as you cling to the sheets and gasp loudly in between “ah”s and “omph”s that fall from your bruised lips.

“J-Jef— haah! Jeff—” “Such a whiney bitch, huh? Never shutting that whore mouth’ve yours.” He hisses out, slamming into you impossibly harder and making you scream out until your throat is scratchy and burns. A hand wraps tight around your neck much like a snake would constrict around its prey, cutting off your airflow entirely and causing panic to mix with pleasure and pain. It’s all blurred lines for you, fingers digging into the skin of his wrist as tears fall down your face and his tip brutally kisses against your soft cervix making your gut tighten with overwhelming warmth.

“Gonna cum? Already?” He sneers, tilting his head as black strands tickle against your exposed collarbones. You wish you could talk back, you wish you had the energy and dignity to not behave like a god damn pornstar. “Didn’t know y’were such a cheap whore.” He chuckles, humiliating you further as your walls flutter tight and milk his thick girth as your juices web out and leave a creamy ring around the base of his cock.

However he doesn’t stop, he keeps going and it’s too much to handle. You cry out once more, begging in such a sweet and pathetic voice that it would’ve worked on someone else— anybody else, besides Jeff.

“Expected me to stop?” He laughs, cock twitching against your walls and he’s so close you wonder how he hasn’t caved already. His hand releases your poor neck allowing you to breath right as black spots started to prickle the corners of your vision and your lungs were burning from lack of air. “You don’t get a break, slut. Now shut up and take it.”

#jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #jtk x reader #jeff mason x reader #jeff mason smut

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ayyy-pee · 2 months ago

Text

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟤 - 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐻𝒶𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter

Pairing: Hotel Heir Satoru Gojo x Club Heiress Female Reader Genre: Fake Dating/Arranged Marriage AU/Rivals to Lovers

WC: 7.4k

Story Summary: One unforgettable night out leads to a lifetime tethered to the one man you absolutely can't fucking stand. The feeling's mutual, but now you both have to find a way to make it work in your favor.

You and Satoru's parents give you an ultimate that you both quite literally cannot afford to refuse.

Story Warning: Fake Dating, Arranged Marriage, Profantity DUH, Gojo and Reader being fucking bratty and annoying, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior. Smut Maybe? (probably), No Y/N usage here, Gojo is such a shithead here fr LMAO

Art by: nameissiyo on X

A/N: I have been having so much fun writing this little shit LMAOOOO

You slowly enter your apartment in a daze, dragging your feet along before slipping your shoes off at the door. You’ve just had a bomb dropped on you, metaphorically blowing up your entire world and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to wrap your head around it. Your mind replays the conversation – well, the demand from your father. There was no actual conversation to be had. You were doing what was asked of you.

Point blank period.

------

“Daddy, please don’t do this to me,” you begged, knowing your pleas were falling on deaf ears. “I’ll clean up my act, I swear.”

“It’s far too late. I’ve given you multiple chances to get it together. I’ve let you do whatever you wanted for too long. This is the push you need to grow up, to take this seriously. Starting with you taking on a position within the company and learning the inner workings. And you will let Satoru court you, and you will marry him.”

Your head was spinning. “Daddy…you don’t understand. I can’t marry Satoru.” Even his name on your tongue tastes vile. But that may also be all your emotions working their way out of your gut.

“Why is that?” Your father asked.

‘I just don’t like him!’ It’s what you wanted to scream. Or even ‘He’s insufferable and fucking annoying!’, you already knew it wasn’t a valid enough reason for your father.

“I just…” you racked your brain for reasons that you think your father would accept. None come to mind, because to him, you didn’t need to like your partner to make things work.

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “This marriage will go through,” he told you. “And so will this merger, because it is contingent on your marriage to Satoru.”

The trembling in your lips returned with a vigor and you plead once more. “But why? Why do we have to get married in order for the merger to go through? I’ll learn about the company, I’ll take on a formal position, I’ll party less and do more, that’s fine! But marrying Satoru? Why does that make a difference?!”

“They have their reasons,” your father states. “and honestly, I can’t say I disagree with them. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

You were back to begging for your father to take pity on you, to let you get away with just this one last thing and you swore you’d never fuck up again, never make the company look bad. But he didn’t budge. He didn’t even look in your direction. He simply turned away from you, ignored the fat tears and black mascara that ran down your cheeks and onto his pristine, white marble floors and went back to his desk. He sat down and went about his day like you weren’t standing to the side muttering that you didn’t want to do this, that you’d do anything else but this. He picked up his phone and dialed his secretary.

“Nitta, please patch me through to CEO Gojo. Thank you.” You stood, rooted to your spot as you listened to your father practically sell you off to the Gojo family in exchange for a chance to continue his quest to build his empire. You were simply a pawn here.

------

This is unbelievable, a nightmare! You even pinch yourself, hoping that this is all just a very bad dream and you’ll wake up in your bed, but you’re still standing in your living room and feeling the weight of the situation on you.

One night. One stupid night out after you let dumbass Utahime and Shoko convince you to do something that you’re now going to have to spend your entire life paying for.

Your father spent a good hour on the phone with CEO Gojo working out the details of this arrangement. You’re to meet with the Gojo family sometime within the next few weeks for dinner at their estate. You’ll hear from CEO Gojo’s secretary so they can pencil you in for some time with your future in-laws. The thought makes your stomach churn.

Why do you have to marry Satoru Gojo? He’s one of the most obnoxious and annoying men you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. The two of you have only ever had maybe a handful of interactions and each one was a disaster.

There was your first meeting as teenagers…

------

Your families and many others of the upper elite had gathered together to honor the late Chairman and CEO at the time, Satoru’s grandfather. While the elder Gojo had not been involved in company matters for some time, he hadn’t stepped down as Chairman and CEO officially until now. His son, the current Chairman and CEO had been acting as the interim for years before they finally announced it. Tonight, they were setting things in stone, making a statement to the public that the line will be continuing and Satoru will now be next to inherit the position as head of the company.

“Thank you all for joining us,” the elder Gojo says. “If you’ve been invited here, it’s because we hold you in close regard and want you to be here to witness this transition - me finally being able to pass the torch on to my son.”

At this, Satoru’s father stands from his seat on stage and comes forward to join his father. You didn’t miss the way his eyes seem to scan the room, likely searching for someone. The older Gojos drone on, and you tune out. You’ve always found these things to be boring. Of course, at sixteen years old, you would have loved to be anywhere else in the world than at some stuffy corporate party full of old people, but your father was out of town trying to close a deal and your mother went with him.

The invitation specifically requested the families of these companies, and so you were stuck acting as the company representative in your father’s stead.

“I hate these things,” a soft voice whispers from across the table, and your eyes rise from the intricate patterns on the fancy tablecloth you’ve been staring at the last several minutes to meet kind, violet orbs and a mischievous feline smile staring at you. “I’m Suguru…Geto.”

He tacks on his last name like he’s reluctant to say so, but mainly like it means something to you. You don’t really care who’s who here, but like you, it seems Suguru’s been practically trained since birth to network and make connections, to know every face you come across. You rack your brain for the last name Geto, and when nothing seems to come to mind, he fills in the blank for you.

“Geto Holdings.”

Right, the real estate conglomerate. If you remember correctly, Suguru is an only child, just like you, so he’s also meant to take over if his parents deem it so.

You give Suguru your name and watch his brows rise, impressed with the family you hail from.

“Well…” he sighs, leaning back in his chair and taking you in. “Pleasure to meet you. We should exchange info after this.”

You nod, the tiniest smile curling at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah…yeah, I’ll get your number after.”

You two leave it at that, turning your attention back to CEO Gojo. He talks on and on about how honored he is to be taking over the company. How he’s been raised to do this and it’s all he’s known, that he can’t wait to make his father proud. He also shares some of his plans for the company going forward, which means absolutely nothing to you. Gojo Hospitality exists in a whole different world than your father’s company. Whatever plans CEO Gojo had in store, you couldn’t care less about.

It’s when he’s about to wrap his boring speech up that a loud ruckus at the entrance of the ballroom grabs everyone’s attention. The new CEO Gojo’s jaw clenches, watching long legs carry a young man across the room.

“Sorry I’m late!” The intruder practically yells, buttoning his wrinkled dress shirt sloppily. His white hair is messy, almost like he just woke up from a nap. But you doubt it with the way he’s struggling to get through to the front of the ballroom.

You’ve been to enough rich kid teenage parties to know he’s wasted.

“Shit,” you hear Suguru hiss, standing from his seat and watching the boy make his way across the room.

The boy stumbles up the steps of the stage, joining the Gojo family, and you think he must be the son. Satoru, you believe his name is. He makes his way to the older Gojo who wears a tight smile on his lips, as he reaches for the boy once he’s closer. He leans away from the mic, wrapping his arms around the boy, lips beside his ear, whispering. And whatever he says to the young man works, the glassy look in his eyes vanishing and replaced by hardly concealed disdain.

It’s all awkward and suddenly tense in the room, the atmosphere thick as molasses. You hadn’t even noticed that Suguru had left his seat and went to grab the boy, hauling him back to your table where he plops him down in the seat right in front of you.

The party resumes, the new CEO Gojo continuing with his speech, not even bothering to address what just took place.

Suguru says your name, smooth and already familiar. “This Satoru Gojo. Satoru, this is ___.” Suguru takes a seat beside him, not even giving you a chance to truly introduce yourself because he instructs Satoru to “just shut the fuck up and they can leave after his dad’s speech.”

You’re just sitting there, thinking that you’ve just been casually introduced to the son and heir of one of - if not the largest - hospitality companies in the world. If your father were here, he would be thrilled. This is your chance to act like you give a little bit of a damn about the company and get to know Satoru.

But as you watch him, all scrunched brows and pouts, you feel a little bad for him.

He looks visibly deflated after receiving what you think was one hell of a scolding from his father, cheeks red and blue eyes downcast, staring into his lap. This is the first time you’ve seen this guy. Most large gatherings of the upper class that you had been to, he wasn’t present for. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed him, which you think would be rather difficult given his unique appearance; striking azure eyes, snowy tresses and freakishly long legs. Yeah, he’d be hard to miss.

You don’t realize that you’ve spaced out yet again, staring at the boy who has just made quite a scene, and seems to be in the mood for another.

He’s grinning at you, all crooked and goofy looking. “Like what you see, Princess?” He teases, elbow on the table with his head resting in his palm, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance. You sneer at his lack of manners.

“Pardon?”

Satoru chuckles, nudging Suguru with his elbow and his friend doesn’t seem to find anything amusing.

“Pardonnnn?” He mocks you in a sweet voice, followed by him snorting. “So cute when you all play dumb.”

Beside him, Suguru mutters quietly, “Satoru, that’s enough.”

You’re still in shock, can’t seem to wrap your head about this boy practically calling you stupid. How dare he? When he’s late, drunk at his own family’s party and has his elbows on the table!

If your mother were here, she’d have a conniption seeing this.

“Aww, come on, Suguru,” Satoru slurs, gaze piercing into you as he looks you up and down, assessing you. “I mean, she’s not really my type - new money and all,” he waves his hand in your general direction, laughing when he does so.

New money. That’s what those who want to insult your family say. It’s referring to the fact that your father only came into his wealth about 30 years ago, when he took a chance on some rundown shitty building in Shinjuku and opened the first Club Echo that ended up skyrocketing in popularity and launching your father into the same playing field as those who had been in possession of extreme wealth for far longer than him.

Whereas Satoru's grandfather's grandfather had started Gojo Hospitality from the ground up, slowly building it into the empire it is today. They’re the definition of old money, richer than rich. You’re not even on the same playing field.

It doesn’t seem like the boy in front of you wants to let you forget that.

“Stop it, Satoru,” Suguru chides, gripping onto his friend's arm who snatches it back.

“Why? You want her?” He asks, and your eyes widen which only makes Satoru laugh. “I mean you did see her first…but wow, she's got a cute face, so maybe I’ll make an exception and take her for myself.”

‘You’re here to represent your family, your father,’ you have to remind yourself. You are to be on your best behavior, or it won’t bode well for you when your father gets home. You’ve made it through a good majority of this snoozefest tonight and you only need Satoru’s father to hurry and finish his speech so that his son can get the hell away from you.

But with the way Satoru continues to grin at you teasingly, leaning his gross arms on the table, you feel your patience begin to wear thin. You try to ignore him, no longer giving him your attention like he wants and instead focusing on his father and the words coming from his mouth, hoping his speech ends soon, but it’s to no avail.

Especially when Satoru’s long legs stretch beneath the table and stomp right on the toe of your Manolo Blahnik’s and you feel any semblance of restraint snap.

Satoru peeks beneath the table, always so crude, it seems, and you snap your legs shut because you’re wearing a damn dress! Does he have no manners at all? Apparently not, because Satoru only offers a hum when he sits back up, shrugging. “My bad, Princess.”

Your dad will surely understand that you’ve killed the Gojo heir, right?

You close your eyes, inhaling sharply as you slip your foot out of your shoe. Reaching for the heel, you hold it in your hand to see the large scrape of Satoru’s big ass Louboutin oxfords sitting right on the tip. You’re trembling with rage, glaring at the man on the other side of your table as your fingers wrap around your shoe, purposely leaving the heel part exposed.

In the fifteen minutes since you’ve met Satoru, he’s continuously added into the reasons you’ve decided that you don’t like him. He’s insulted your intelligence, spoke about you like you were a piece of meat to be torn apart between him and Suguru, insulted your family and now, he’s committed the worst crime of all in your book - scuffed your brand new shoes that you bought just for this stupid event.

Wide eyed, Satoru chuckles nervously, forcing a smile to his face. “Come on, it’s not that big a deal. I’ll replace them!” He offers, no apology anywhere to be found.

Rude – another thing to add to the long list.

Fuming, your teeth grind together as you murmur, “They’re vintage.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, pretending to yawn. “They’re just shoes.”

Uncultured – another thing.

Satoru sighs, reaching into his pockets and pulling his wallet out, pulling his black card out and holding it out to you. “Vintage or not, I’ll replace them. If you can’t afford it, you can just say so.”

Fucking asshole – and it’s the last reason you need.

“I’m going to gouge your eyes out and wear them as earrings,” you promise him, and the bastard leans forward, amused again.

Satoru smirks up at you, fluttering his lashes. “They’re pretty, right?” He winks, head tilting when he asks, “Wanna wrestle for ‘em?”

You quickly rise to your feet, chair falling back and slamming onto the floor loudly as you reach across the table for Satoru, only managing to snatch a clump of hair from his scalp and he howls in pain. The sound is so satisfying, you can’t help the obnoxious laugh that escapes you.

“What the fuck?! Over some shoes?!” He screeches, hand pressed to the sore spot on his head.

You ignore the gasps and wide eyes that stare, the hard gaze of Satoru’s family on the back of your head as you try to get to their son. Satoru leans back in his seat, scowling briefly at you before it’s replaced with another smile, only fueling your anger.

Does he take anything seriously? There’s no apology, no remorse, just an asshole sitting in front of you probably thinking he can flash his pearly white teeth at you and you’ll fall to your knees even if he does insult you and your family.

You couldn’t be less interested in Satoru Gojo, and after meeting him, you’re absolutely certain that there’s zero chance you’ll ever care about him.

“Satoru…” Suguru chides. “You need to apologize.”

At this, Satoru scoffs. “No. She’s fucking insane! Trying to kill me over some ugly old shoes, and I should apologize?”

No, you’ll never give a single damn about Satoru Gojo. But you are interested in knocking his head off his shoulders.

“They’re vintage!” You shriek in response, lunging for Satoru again, but this time Suguru is there to intercept, grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling you across the table into his arms.

You stare up at him, all anger melting away when you meet his violet eyes. He leans down, lips grazing your ear as he urges, “Stop. In about ten seconds, security is going to barge in here and drag you out and I don’t think your family would like that image plastered across the blogs.”

His words feel like ice cold water, dousing the flames raging inside you. He’s right. Your family would certainly not appreciate opening their phones and seeing pictures of you scalping the Gojo boy on front page news.

“If you walk out with me now, you can leave with your dignity still in tact. I’ll offer an apology to the Gojo’s on your behalf–”

You make a disgusted face, and Suguru shakes his head.

“Trust me, it’s in your best interest if I do.” He glances up, seeing the security team entering the room. The Gojo’s assistant points in your direction and Suguru holds a hand up, effectively stopping them for a moment. “Walk out with me, and let me handle everything else after.”

So you inhale deeply, let Suguru slink his arm around your shoulders and bow, apologizing to everyone for what just transpired. Of course, Satoru remains seated. His face is already checked out, scrolling on his phone instead of offering an apology to you in return, let alone to his own family. You’re tempted to snatch a few more strands from his head, but when Suguru brings you closer to his body in an attempt to calm you again (which works), you decide it’s better to just take your leave.

------

That was your very first time meeting Satoru Gojo. And every run in after went just as well.

Satoru spilling a drink all over your new dress “on accident” that you just know will stain at an art gallery event that your parents had insisted you attend, and you digging your stiletto heel right into his foot, earning an echoing yowl. Suguru was kind enough to offer you his suit jacket. The gesture made Satoru roll his eyes, and the blogs couldn’t wait to fuel rumors of you and Suguru dating when a picture dropped from the event showing him giving you the clothing.

There was also the time Satoru reserved all the VIP tables at your families club, and you had to party amongst the commoners when he refused to give a table to you and your friends. “Sorry, got a super important thing happening here tonight. Need every seat,” he had told you with a mocking pout on his face, only for you to find out later that it was just him and about four other people the entire night! And you couldn’t do anything about it because of course, according to your father, the customer always comes first and there are plenty of other places for you to hang out.

And you’ll never forget running into Satoru while you were on a date and him telling the man that you “have quite the temper” and then proceeding to take a seat and tell him of all the negative interactions you two had had. All of it made your date look at you differently, the image of the sweet and kind girl he was getting to know now skewed thanks to Satoru’s words. He ended up ending your very short lived relationship only a few days later.

You hate Satoru Gojo. It’s not an exaggeration. You truly, absolutely hate him.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, and you like it better that way. You stay in your little bubble, and he stays in his, and any time your bubbles threaten to meet, you’re quick to change paths. Satoru obviously doesn’t like you either, and you weren’t too proud to say that you were happy the feeling was mutual.

It’s starting to sink in now. The fact that soon you’ll have to see Satoru again when you haven’t had to be in the same room in years. Worse, you’ll have to see Satoru everyday for the rest of your damn life. Your hold on your purse handle tightens until you’re shaking. And then your purse is flying across your living room, smacking against the wall and falling to the floor along with all the contents of your purse. A piercing shriek erupts from you as you finally let your rage out.

This is hell.

------

“You're what?!” Suguru practically shrieks on the other end of the phone.

“I'm getting married apparently,” Satoru repeats, boredly as he slips off his shoes in the foyer.

“...To ___?…The Heiress…of Club Echo…”

“Yeah, I said that already.”

Suguru clears his throat. “I just wanted to make sure I was hearing you right.”

Satoru’s brows rise in amusement. “You jealous? You guys used to hook up, didn’t you?”

There’s a brief beat of silence before Suguru mutters, “That’s what the tabloids say.” He sighs, and Satoru knows he’s doing that thing where he frantically runs his fingers through his hair. “And no. Not jealous. Just…shocked she agreed to this.”

Satoru frowns. “Why wouldn't she? She gets to marry into my family, which is like…the biggest sell here. Not to mention she gets to be with me. Other girls would kill to be in her position.”

“Yeah, sure. You're such a catch,” Suguru deadpans. “But ___ fucking hates you.”

Satoru snorts, shaking his head as he fiddles with the buttons of his shirt. He slips it off, only just noticing the smudged pink lipstick on the collar. He rolls his eyes and tosses it aside. “Nah, she’s had a crush on me for the longest. Trust me. That’s why she’s so mean to me. It’ll just suck for her I guess, since I don’t like her like…at all.”

At this, Suguru bursts into laughter, making Satoru’s frown deepen the longer this goes on. “You’re such a child,” he says. “No, Satoru. She actually fucking hates you. Like, if she hears you’re showing up somewhere she’s at, she will leave because she can’t stand to look at you.”

Satoru falls back onto his sofa, scowling. “You guys really were hooking up, weren’t you? I feel like that’s the only way you’d even know that.”

“You jealous?” Suguru teases him back. But Satoru shrugs off his friend’s words.

“No. I don’t need her to like me to marry me. It’s a business contract essentially. If this wedding goes through, my dad will get the hell off my back, at least for a while. She doesn’t need to love me, because it’s not like I’m gonna love her either.”

Suguru hums. “And if that changes?”

Satoru scoffs. There’s no way that’ll happen. You guys don’t really know each other, don’t care about each other in the least, truly can’t stand each other. It’s a marriage of convenience for your parents and their companies. Love has nothing to do with it. Satoru isn’t interested in loving you, or even learning to love you. And if Suguru is correct in saying that you really do hate him, then you probably feel the same way.

But Suguru’s question hangs in the air. What if it does change? What if you do fall in love with him? Or worse, he falls in love with you? Unlikely given your off putting personality and your vapid interests. Seriously, you almost killed him over a shoe at one point. Even still…

He can’t risk it.

“No chance of that happening. I’ll make sure of that.”

Suguru changes the subject, droning on and on about the multiple business trips he’s set to take this month. He’ll be leaving for Singapore in about four days, on Monday and from there he’ll head to Jeju Island, and then to America for a week. He takes his meetings seriously, works hard and actually makes his family proud.

In an ideal world, Suguru would have been born the heir of Gojo Hospitality. He actually enjoys the inner workings of the business world and was eager and ready to begin his apprenticeship with his parents and learn what it would take to run his family's company. Even as teenagers, Suguru was like this. He knew exactly what he wanted out of life. His family didn’t pressure him to take over, it was the path he chose for himself.

Satoru, on the other hand, never cared much to know about how business worked. He liked living life the way he saw fit and doing what he wanted. And his father and grandfather had let Satoru do whatever he felt up until now. Suddenly, he had no choice in the matter. But he supposes he never actually had a choice in the first place. It was all a dream they let him have until they were ready for him to wake up.

He was the only child, only son of his parents. He was always meant to take over the company. He just doesn’t understand why he has to marry someone – marry you – to do so.

“Did you hear me, Satoru?” Suguru calls for his friend.

“Huh?”

Suguru says your name, and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“What about her?”

“You should reach out. She’s probably not happy about this, either. It may help to meet up and see if you can at least be on the same page about this whole arrangement, at least get on good terms. Maybe apologize for being a dick every time you’ve seen her. I’m sure it’ll make things easier for the both of you.”

Again, Satoru rolls his eyes. Of course Suguru is worried about making things less of a headache for him. He’s a good friend, always has been. But it seems he’s always been a good friend to you as well, if the way he’s looking out for you is any indication. Satoru isn’t sure what to make of Suguru’s concern for you. But all of that can be handled later. Suguru is right. He needs to meet up with his fiancée.

It’s been a long time since Satoru has seen you, in person at least. Sure, he’s seen you on your mutual friends' social media posts (he’s blocked on your actual page), or when you make rare appearances for your family’s business and it gets posted online. He’s even seen you on the blogs in passing when he’s scrolling through to see what’s been written about himself. Though he’ll never admit that last part.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. Send me ___’s number – I know you have it – and I’ll text her.”

Shortly after ending his call with Suguru, Satoru reminisces on the day’s events.

------

Soft moans, and wet kisses can be heard through the door of room 601.

“Satoru, we shouldn’t…” a woman whines into his ear, though she kisses along his neck the way she knows he likes. “I could get fired…”

Satoru chuckles, nudging against the woman’s face so he can switch places with her, now nipping and sucking along her neck, surely leaving marks along the way. His hand skirts up her thigh, hiking her leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He rolls his hips forward, pressing the evidence of his arousal against her core, and pulling a whimper from the woman.

“I’ll never let them fire you,” Satoru swears against her skin, popping open her uniform blouse’s buttons until he can see the swell of her breasts. “You’re my favorite maid here. They can fire anyone else, but not you.”

The woman moans, hands tangling in Satoru’s hair as he leans down to plant kisses between her breasts. He groans at the feeling of her nails on his scalp and just as he’s about to dip a finger into the cup of her bra to expose her nipples, the irritating sound of beeping, followed by a door opening halts his movements.

With a sigh between the woman’s bosom, Satoru stands straight, his nimble fingers fixing her shirt as she hurriedly makes herself look presentable. When she’s set, she gets back to her tasks just in time for another woman to enter the space.

The other woman sighs, eyes roaming the scene – Satoru leaning seemingly innocently against the wall while the maid pretends she’s been cleaning the entire time. But for Satoru, this is normal, so she clears her throat and proceeds.

“Your father would like to see you,” she states simply. His father sent his assistant after him, it seems.

“Why?” Satoru moves from the wall, not sparing a glance back as he moves past his father’s assistant and out the door. “And don’t lie, Manami.”

Manami shakes her head, hurrying to catch up to Satoru. “I honestly don’t know. He just asked me to find you.”

“And let me guess…” Satoru taps the elevator button to go down, maybe a little harder than he means to, but the idea of meeting with his father is already an unwelcome one. “He had every hotel management team on the lookout for me so they could report back to him where I was.”

The doors to the elevator open and Manami follows Satoru inside. She wraps her arms around the tablet that seems to be practically glued to her arms these days and taps the screen a few times before turning the screen to him. There’s a map pulled up, a little blue dot blinking on the screen. “You shared your location with me when I first started and you tried to get in my pants.”

Manami hits Satoru with a sly grin, giggling to herself while Satoru stares down at her with wide eyes. “Don’t you remember? You told me, so you can find me when you get off, and I'll show you a good time.”

She imitates Satoru’s voice, making him cringe. That was so long ago. He couldn’t imagine hitting on Manami now, viewing her more as an annoying older sister than anyone he’d want to be intimate with.

“Is that how dad always knows where I am?”

Manami hums. “Makes my life so much easier,” she brags. She turns to Satoru, holding up a finger with an angry face behind it. “Don’t unshare it.”

When they reach the lobby, Satoru’s security team is already waiting for him. They escort him to his car where he climbs into the backseat with Manami, who manages to dodge every question Satoru has regarding what this meeting his father wants is about.

When he realizes he’ll get nowhere with his interrogation, Satoru finally settles for silence, scrolling through his timeline and absentmindedly liking his friends posts.

They arrive at headquarters, the elevator ride a straight shot up to the corporate department. Outside of his father’s office, Manami wishes Satoru good luck, and he knows this isn’t going to be good. He enters his father’s office, taking a seat in front of his desk as he waits to be acknowledged, which unsurprisingly, takes forever. His father doesn’t even bother to look up from his computer as he speaks.

“We’re going to be merging with Club Echo,” he declares.

“...okay? You called me here for that?”

His father glances up just briefly, then resumes his tasks. “This merger is very important, Satoru.”

“We’ve merged with companies before. What’s this one gotta do with me?”

His father’s fingers still on the keyboard, eyes as blue as Satoru’s meeting his gaze. “This merger is arguably the most important we’ve ever had. We need it to go through at all costs.”

Satoru thinks he gets it now. His father needs him to go shmooze up some old bag of bones to make sure they’re happy with the direction this merger is headed. He supposes it’s his way of trusting Satoru, giving him a chance to prove that he’s capable of doing something useful for the company. It wouldn’t be the first time. When Satoru wants to, he’s able to talk up whoever he wants, get his way and close deals. It’s just that most of the time…he doesn’t want to. But this is a big opportunity for him, so he supposes he’ll do it.

It’s almost like a transaction. Satoru does something right, his dad leaves him alone for awhile until he needs him again.

“Okay? So what? You need me to travel somewhere? There’s what? Like thirty Club Echo locations? Which branch am I meeting with? What location are we merging with?”

“All of them.”

“Oh…the entire company?”

Even for a company as large as Gojo Hospitality, this is a big move. Satoru knows this.

“Alright…what do you need from me?”

Satoru’s father leans forward, folding his hands together as he stares his son down. And there’s this sudden dread that washes over Satoru. He has a feeling this isn’t going to go the way he expected. The confirmation comes a second later, when his father speaks.

“I need you to get married.”

------

There was a lot of yelling, and admittedly throwing of items, mainly from Satoru, reminding his father that you’d once tried to kill him over a shoe and threatened to poke his eyes out and use them for jewelry. But it didn’t matter to his father, who just typed away on his computer as Satoru went ballistic.

“That was a long time ago,” was all he offered to Satoru’s concerns. “Move on.”

And when all was said and done, Satoru still finds himself where he is now – on his sofa, staring at your number that he’s now saved in his phone under ????💍 after Suguru sent your contact information to him.

He knows he should follow Suguru’s advice and just call you, ask if you’d like to grab dinner later this week and iron out the details of this arrangement. It would make sense really since this is an arrangement set up by your parents, not one that either of you opted for. Because, let's be real, if given the option, neither of you would have chosen each other to get married to.

Hell, even Satoru’s father admittedly would have chosen someone else for him. But Club Echo was growing and only getting bigger, and the idea of merging the companies and building clubs within hotel locations to create a powerhouse unit among hospitality and nightlife was just way too good of an opportunity for his father to pass up, his son’s happiness be damned. But when had he ever given a shit about that?

Now, he’s here, struggling to decide on whether or not to text his future wife who he doesn’t really care for, and who absolutely despises him.

Suguru’s earlier question rings through Satoru’s mind, asking what he’ll do if the fact that you don’t love each other changes. And Satoru realizes that he has to do everything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen. He enjoys his freedom, likes being able to do what he wants whenever he wants and with whomever he wants. Having a wife will surely ruin that. But from what he’s seen of you in the blogs, you seem to live a similar lifestyle. He doubts you want to be weighed down by a wedding ring either. It gives him an idea. Perhaps you’ll be more willing to meet up if he has something worth meeting for.

So Satoru hits the text button, writing out a message – because honestly, he doesn’t have the courage to dial your number and hear the hatred out in your voice just yet – and he quickly hits send…multiple times.

SATORU: hey wifey ;) it’s satoru

SATORU: DONT BLOCK ME PLS

SATORU: SAVE MY NUMBER

SATORU: wanna grab dinner next Monday?

SATORU: u kno…talk marriage and stuff

He waits for a response. And waits. And waits.

About forty minutes pass before his phone vibrates, and he doesn’t notice the tiny smirk curling on his lips when he sees your response.

????💍: Could you possibly send more texts?

‘Still snarky as ever,’ Satoru thinks, and more little dots pop up at the bottom of the screen.

????💍: I’m traveling next week. We can have dinner the Monday after to talk over everything. Might as well figure out how we’re going to make this work. 6pm. Don’t be late. See you in two weeks.

Your text is final, not leaving an opening for a response from him. He’s tempted to message you again, just to annoy you, but decides against it. The point of meeting up is to ease the tension before the marriage, not cause more. He’ll just send you a text on Monday of where to meet.

So he puts his phone away, mind going a million miles a second as he thinks of all the ways he could possibly make a marriage work between two people who can’t stand each other.

------

The next two weeks go by much faster than Satoru anticipated, and now he finds himself sitting alone in a rooftop lounge - of your choice, of course - as he waits for you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling this strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, the idea of seeing you in person after so many years making him feel like he should run. Aside from what’s online, he doesn’t know much about you.

You like shopping, which he could have guessed back when you were sixteen. Given how you reacted when he accidentally stepped on your shoe, he’d say you’re quite passionate about your little hobby. You’re also quite the party girl from what he’s seen online, with rumors always swirling about who you’re dating.

One of them being his best friend. Multiple times, he’s noticed. No matter, though. Suguru was quick to deny the rumors, so there’s nothing to worry about there. Though, Suguru does seem to be pretty aware of your hatred of Satoru. He wonders just how close you two really are. But only for a moment, because it won’t matter in the long run.

Another thing Satoru has noticed about you is that much like him, it doesn’t seem like you’ve ever been interested in the family business. Yes, you occasionally show up to represent your family at certain events, but you have no actual position within the company from what he’s been able to gather. At least Satoru is listed as the Chief Marketing Officer, though he doesn’t do shit. It’s all for show until he hopefully comes to his senses and decides he wants to do something for the company. That’s not happening if he has any say in it, which his father has seemed to pick up on, so it looks like he’s using his son to further his business and keep Satoru tethered to it as well. A bullshit play, but he’s spent the weekend going over what could be done about it.

But you? Your father doesn’t seem to care that you don’t want to be involved, hence all the partying and freedom, so he wonders what it was that got you roped into this mess. It’s something he can try to pry out of you when you get here.

For a second, he lets himself ponder what you’re like in person now. You have somehow managed to avoid any and all events that would have you two in the same room over the last couple of years, so this being the first time you’ve been together and without anyone running interference?…well, Satoru is worried he may be leaving here with yet another bald spot. The one you left him with a decade ago still hasn’t grown back quite the same.

He checks his watch, the clock hitting 6pm exactly, and he glances up to see you strolling towards the table right on time.

Of course, you’re decked out in all the finest that money can buy. He spots the designer heels, expensive gems that cover your ears, neck and wrist. The little dress you sport (which you fill out quite nicely, he lets himself think) looks like something straight off of a runway, and Satoru wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

His eyes take in your features. Your face has changed a bit as well, more mature and he can’t deny, very pretty. But as you meet his curious gaze, he sees those even prettier lips of yours twist in disgust and he remembers then that aside from being rich, the only thing you two have in common is the fact that your parents are basically forcing you to get married.

You stand beside your seat, glaring down at Satoru and he leans back, not daring to look away. Your eyes narrow, darting to your seat and back to him quickly. But you don’t say anything, don’t simply speak up and say what you’re wanting, so Satoru says nothing as well.

It’s a standoff between you two, and he’s not backing down. He could sit here for days, staring up at you with the same smirk that he’s sure gets on your nerves the same way your uppity attitude irks him. He’s not sure what it is about you that makes him want to get under your skin so badly. You’re an annoying heiress just like most of the women Satoru surrounds himself with that just wants to drink and have fun, the same way he does. He doesn’t typically care about any of them, but he’s always found this weird satisfaction in annoying you.

You finally break eye contact, Satoru cheering internally when you figure out he’s not standing up to pull your seat out for you like a true gentleman would. You politely wave the waiter over, ordering a glass of wine for yourself, a brow raising when Satoru doesn’t order anything for himself.

“I don’t drink anymore. Haven’t in years,” he answers the question you don’t ask.

You’re staring at him again, but with less ferocity than when you first arrived. You inhale deeply before you ask, “So…why did you want to meet?”

At this, Satoru points to the stack of papers he has sitting in front of him. “To do business.”

“Business?”

Satoru nods. “I want to propose…” He pauses, having to hold back the laugh bubbling in his chest when your eyes nearly pop out of your head at his words. “...a deal,” he finishes, and you scowl. He doesn’t miss the sigh of relief that leaves you before you slip your businesswoman mask on, a look he’s never seen before.

“What did you have in mind?”

93 notes · View notes

peggyao3 · 4 months ago

Text

Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body.

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again.

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne.

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots."

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually.

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him?

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?"

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck.

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk!

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her.

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful."

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?"

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground. "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted

#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x oc #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic

92 notes · View notes

merrysithmas · 5 months ago

Text

continuing my DP, Wolverine, Spidey teamup movie ideas I live for a situation where Spiderman offhandedly mentions he is going through this subplot in his own 'verse where he has this really evil villain. Like this is a vile, inhuman, violent fcker with no regard for life, no hope of seeing the light, just a downright scumbag fascist.

We see it's weighing on him because Spiderman always strives to help "villains" who have lost their way or at least lead them to redemption if possible, but in this situation it's just... impossible. There is only continued violence in the face of which an impotent Peter always fails make a difference. Spiderman - hero or menace? Deep down he feels like he has blood on his hands because he doesn't have the "guts" to do what it takes.

But we know, since he's PG-13, Spiderman can't ever actually technically unalive villains himself. So he's just being tormented by this ahole for longer than anyone can imagine, and the Villain himself knows he can't die - bc of the moral & writerly strictures on Peter - which just emboldens said Villain further to do more and more heinous shit. This, of course, just destroys Peter who we know has lost so many people and carries a heavy guilt complex. He knows he can never actually stop the Villain good.

So at one point we have Wade, bedecked in the completely ill-fitting Spiderman costume that he lifted off screen, looking significantly more sinister than usual, striding into said Villain's lair and lethally taking out every goon with next to no effort. It looks jarring because he has none of Spidey's grace and fluid aerobatics, just some cold hard heat.

And upon seeing "Spiderman" again the Villain is delighted, ready for another twisted moustache-twirly convo in which he can destroy Peter's self-esteem but before he can pop off with his Mocking Villainous Monologue, Wade just lays into him with every weapon in the book, leaving him a bleeding husk in his chair.

That's all she wrote.

Meanwhile, there's some serious shit going down and Peter cannot find his Spiderman suit so has to resort to throwing on Deadpool's too-big costume - he's like hurling about it ("Does he ever wash this!?"), but swings into action with the katanas on his back (falling and slipping several times because of the strange weight distribution) - rounding up a few DP villains with a lot more Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman than Merc with a Mouth.

Everyone's like wtf because he's doing acrobatics and looks absolutely possessed in the too-big suit. And they're just generally so afraid by the appearance of it and what they perceive to be Wade's new skills they just lay down their weapons peacefully, shaking in fear.

Meanwhile Peter is trying to impersonate Wade while talking to them and they're all soooo confused. The costume looks like a creepy, deflating balloon on Peter. Okay whatever you do just don't hurt us, Deadpool! Meanwhile Peter is like, What? Why would I hurt you? And they're all getting more and more terrified by the second lmao, volunteering for community service, screaming and promising to donate all their spoils to the poor, throwing money at him.

So in the end it results in some really good press for both of them and a moment of Justin Timberlake "Mirror" realization when Wade walks in wearing the Spiderman suit covered in like 6 gallons of blood and Peter walks in wearing the DP suit carrying like 12 bouquets of flowers and covered in kiss marks from the thankful public.

Then Wolverine comes in from a completely unrelated errand and the music stops and he's like, ??? and Peter starts to explain everything and Wolvie just stands there arms crossed listening with the most disgruntled expression. And when Peter is done Wolvie is like - Not surprised, I could never tell you apart anyway.

And we find out he could never tell the difference between the two of them while they're in their suits in the first place. Peter and Wade are sooo offended, they're like we sound totally different and we are completely different heights! We've been on like 5 missions together!

and Logan is just like, studying them, we can see from the shot they look totally different. Peter is shook, "Well?"

Logan's squinting at them, no recognition, and then rolls his eyes, grunting,

"Whatever, Murdock. I need a beer."

#deadpool 3 #spideypool #poolverine #wolverine #deadpool #spiderman

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hollybell51 · 2 years ago

Note

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

Navigation

Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue.

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?”

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet.

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?”

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?”

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured.

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.”

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day.

“Can I see that?”

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?”

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.”

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.”

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back.

“Is (Y/N) with you?”

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you.

“Are you on the ground?”

“Yes.”

“You need to get out of there.”

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?”

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…”

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!”

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face.

“What?”

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.”

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind.

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?”

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…”

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever.

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out.

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.”

“She ok?”

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.”

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help.

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?”

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin.

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?”

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.”

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing.

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–”

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Ok.”

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam.

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.”

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of.

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.”

“I’m– fuck, Adam.”

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.”

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–”

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you.

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent.

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.”

“Huh?”

“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.”

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later.

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.”

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—”

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…”

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back.

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway.

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain.

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly.

“Hm?

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.”

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing.

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–”

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?”

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?”

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?”

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.”

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.”

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you.

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!”

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.”

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen.

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?”

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle.

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer.

He frowned. “Is that…?”

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured.

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself.

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down.

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.”

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt.

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead.

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.”

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner.

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him.

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit.

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.”

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you.

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there?

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this?

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair.

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked.

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic.

“Hm?”

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.”

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat.

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick.

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?”

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand.

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.”

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his.

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his.

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.”

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–”

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until–

“Adam, oh, Adam—!”

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely.

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears.

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod.

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?”

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?”

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered.

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his.

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?”

“Ok.”

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better.

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself.

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had.

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand.

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer.

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed.

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up.

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower.

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x you #gotg3 #mcu #fanfiction #fanfic #shameless smut #smut #marvel #gotg vol 3

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asiandra-dash · 9 months ago

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Hi i saw u wanna rewrite akikasa hcs PLEASE WRITE ME SOME I BEG /nf /lh

HJKJSKDKHS AKIKASA anyways I was referring to a short story I wrote a while ago but THIS!!! IS (I think) MY FIRST AKIKASA RELATED ASK!!!! I MUST WRITE!!!!!! All I have to do is figure out which thoughts are based on canon and which ones are AUs-

I took 18 days to finally post this because I kept getting ideas and had to force myself to stop because this is way too long 888 words man this ain't fanfiction also if this is illegible I'm sorry none of my headcanon posts will ever be organized no beta or read more we die like my grades after my orchestra field trip

Starting with basic shit Akito is SO so in denial about his feelings and when he's finally fed up with it he chucks it down to infatuation (It is not)

And Tsukasa is an oblivious idiot to everything even though he has a stupid crush on this ginger he just refuses to say anything because he still thinks Akito despises his guts

My guy every little bit of physical contact you make with carrot head makes him look like color hex #ff0000 RGB 255, 0, 0 how do you not notice this

Tsukasa fell first, and they both fell harder >:)

You know Tsukasa'a 1* card where Akito saved the poor man from a spider or something that's when it happened Tsukasa didn't know at first cause like haha who the hell falls in love with someone over something so small I barely even know the guy

If Akito confessed first, after a long moment of awkward silence and Akito wishing the floor would eat him alive, Tsukasa is suddenly hugging him and crying (That's a yes btw)

If Tsukasa confessed first, it would take a bit (probably a few days or weeks) but eventually Akito with the support of everyone finally accepts his feelings for Tsukasa (He didn't tell anyone about the confession btw it was probably Akiyama or one of Tsukasa's friends that told everyone also the threat of Rui was probably another reason he couldn't deny lmao)

Every date, and I mean EVERY SINGLE DATE, Tsukasa will always bring or buy some cheesecakes or pancakes for Akito

And if he doesn't the next time he brings lunch for Akito he'll bring him more cheesecake than he usually does to make up for it

When Tsukasa found out Akito's favorite flowers were sunflowers, he sometimes brings one for him too :D

Tsukasa probably got a pair of sunflower clip-on earrings too (Or whatever they're called)

Tsukasa loves to tackle hug Akito and it never fails to make the ginger laugh <3

Tsukasa borrows Akito's jackets a lot (At least twice a week).

Akito complains about it but let's be honest he loves it when he gets it back and all he smells on it is Tsukasa's scent

Tsukasa loves giving gifts to Akito even if there's no special occasion, usually some type of jewelry like earrings and the next day Akito's most likely wearing it

Obviously, they invite each other to their shows, and sometimes their other bandmates too

During WxS shows Akito's supportive and is internally loud but during VBS concerts Tsukasa is HOLLERING Akito's name and singing along if he knows the lyrics it's embarrassing but if you look closely enough you can tell it hypes up Akito a little more and he tries even harder (An has taken note of this and teases him nonstop about it)

Neither of them are a huge fan of PDA but if you stare long enough you'll probably miss a sneaky little kiss when you blink

That or if Tsukasa's in a really good mood he'll practically cling to Akito (Which is like 50% of the time tbh)

That one post I made on my side blog is real and so is the first tag

Yes Ena and Saki are supportive but holy shit Akito wants to fucking strangle Ena whenever she brings it up (This applies to An too)

Tsukasa helps Akito be more open with his feelings and Akito helps Tsukasa deal with negativity better

Around people, Akito still treats Tsukasa how he would (if Tsukasa isn't being clingy) but once they're alone Akito acts like he's touch starved and refuses to leave Tsukasa alone

Akito sometimes helps Tsukasa with practicing for his shows. He's obviously not as good but he's trying and Tsukasa appreciates his efforts

Tell Akito to say wonderhoy and he'll look at you like you're fucking insane but have Tsukasa tell him and he'll say it as unenthusiastically as he can manage

And then Tsukasa will look at him all :((( and Akito does it with more energy and "jesus fucking christ the things I do to make Tsukasa happy" (It's just a wonderhoy idk why you're so pissed /hj)

I do not understand Japanese and I am not caught up on that one event story with furry Akito so correct me if I'm wrong (about the italicized part) but before Akito gets over his fear of dogs Tsukasa always made sure they would steer clear of them and if one suddenly appeared this blond pink theatre kid is going to protect his pathetic fucking boyfriend with his life

Rui: Is that a hickey? | Tsukasa: No! It’s just a mosquito bite. | Akito, walking into the room: Hey, guys. | Rui: Hi, mosquito.

Whenever one of them stays up really late when staying over. the other tries to convince them to go to bed and cuddle/snuggle with them and it works.

Tsukasa practically begs meanwhile, if possible, Akito hugs Tsukasa from behind and basically just collapses onto him half asleep mumbling into his ear (Can you tell I'm tired it's 1 AM and I got 3 hours of sleep yesterday I'm running off of a power nap rn)

Obviously, Tsukasa can't do anything with Akito like that so he basically carries Akito to the room of whoever they're staying at

Akikasa supremacy WHO'S WITH ME AKIKASA!!!!!!! (I'm dying on a hill please)

Divider / Reply Icon made by me! ( 1 | 2 )

#the brainrot is strong #it is real #(ﾐ ᵕ ﻌ ᵕ ﾐ)┆Wanderer Writes #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #prosekai #pjsekai #project sekai colorful stage #hatsune miku project sekai #hatsune miku colorful stage #akikasa #shinonome akito #akito shinonome #tenma tsukasa #tsukasa tenma #headcanons #pjsk headcanons #I'm gonna die doing as much homework as I can now I haven't been here mentally for the last three weeks I am so far behind

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peachyfnaf · 2 months ago

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ik yer on mayb still on hiatus from the vids, but the post-death nexus interview :(

never seen people try so desperately to push a specific narrative, felt like such a big 'fuck you' in personal opinion. like the complete flatness and all the self-pity blame and just how hostile 'solar' was??? not to mention the complete sun blame is so contrasting to the sams arc??? i guess they want us to agree w/ moon that sun has no reason to grieve???

i actually liked when nexus called 'solar' eclipse, b/c he was treating nexus so roughly it must have felt like a slight. why do you get to change your name and leave all your associations behind but i cant? imo

not 2 mention how much they switch up how nexus was plotting. he had one motive and then another and then a different one. and they brought up so many diff theories and then just didn't? answer them? or blew them off? just felt weird. bad.

...I ain't just on hiatus no-moaw, I stopped watching the shows entirely since Nex went kablooy hun JDFHSDF

But yeah, friends told me about today, and I do be out here agreeing. Then again the canonicity of the afterlife episodes is all wishy-woshy anyways so. Shrugs.

I do think the "flatness" of how Nexus was acting in the ep is because. He's literally 100% defeated in it. And also bc Nexus is depressed as shit, and people seem to forget that. In another podcast episode, he talked to Eclipse about how he was trying to "die faster". Aka suicidal. Which yk. Nawt gooaurd.

I like the way you think about him calling Solar Eclipse because of that reasoning. That is good and a gut punch. Ourgh

And also me friends were wondering why Solar and Nexus were so hostile to each other- but it does make sense to me after thinking about it. To Solar, that's not his Moon, his Moon is no longer there, and to Nexus, that's not his Solar, his Solar is alive with the family. They are not each other's best friends, they are strangers wearing their best friends names and/or skin.

AAAND lastly Nexus being so aggro towards Sun and all the unanswered questions- I think this is just more of Nexus being broody, emo, and petty lmao. If he really wanted Sun dead the most, he had MULTIPLE TIMES TO KILL HIM when he was alive. If he really hated everyone and never saw anyone as family, he would not have felt bad for what he did to Earth, and he would have never tried to have gotten Solar back in the first place.

Nexus is (shOcKiNGlY) a lying liar who lies, and he's also all bark and no bite. Because he talks a mean game, but then 90% of his actions fall/fell short. He is like a pancake that was left out for too long and is now all cold and soggy. It smells bad and might look bad too but bro it's just a pancake

Does that analogy make sense? Who knows

#asks tag #yapping about smtn tag #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #sun and moon show #ill slap a #the duck is seasoned. (salty)#on this one to be sure lol

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mylittleredgirl · 1 year ago

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m*a*s*h reaction post released from my drafts!! i don't know why i have been worried about making a Good Post when legitimately everything that could ever be said about this show has been said.

so i will SHARE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT SEASON THREE currently in progress:

ooooh war got a sweet budget increase in the off-season. pyrotechnics! helicopters! ACTIONNN BAYBEEEE

i'm falling more in love with everyone, details to follow

top of the list: trapper my bestie has been promoted to trapper my legit fictional crush 💕

don't get me wrong, in real life i would slap his face, but i'm with hot lips on this one. the hair, the smile, every time he takes off his shirt... take me to the supply tent or lose me forever

HOWEVER, i happened to notice that he is not on the header pic on hulu* and none of you talk about him so i must regretfully conclude that he will eventually leave the show

DON'T TELL ME WHEN

anyway i am cherishing him as one cherishes an old dog not long for this world

*speaking of hulu: i have now joined the henry blake appreciation society thanks to this One Weird Trick (reupping my hulu account for a month because i lost my shit after the dvds cut out at the climax of an episode AGAIN)

i went back to rewatch the episodes that didn't play on the dvds, and turns out a lot of them were henry eps (including the trial of henry blake and the one where he is waiting for news about his new baby...) (and also the one where he fell in love with a cheerleader but you can’t win ‘em all)

just in time to appreciate that scene in "o.r." where he tells hawkeye he doesn't want to be discharged so that he can keep doing real doctoring 🥺

"o.r." had so many good character bits!! even frank got some depth?? or at least an explanation for why he's Like That...

other eps i liked:

"iron guts kelly" -- felt like a follow-up to the one last season where hot lips got wasted and broke up with frank and then hawkeye and trapper had to sober her up, which i also loved! "we hate her but she's OURS to hate" is such a good character dynamic.

also lmao every time she cheats on frank, GET YOURS GIRL 😘

the frank/margaret thing is strangely compelling actually? it's like an inverse ship for real. will-they-or-won't-they but for breaking up. same energy though, like i'm glued to the screen rooting for them to fight instead of kiss.

"check-up" i was sooooo brave you guys making peace with the situation BUT THEN TRAPPER STAYED!!! i feel like my crush has been given a stay of execution

i don't know if i ship it per se but i really hope he and margaret hook up exactly once and literally everyone regrets it

i've seen some more episodes and have more thoughts but i need to lie down a lot first

oh one more thing:

i realize "m*a*s*h actors amazing" is not breaking news, but i'm specifically obsessed right now with how they are always interacting with props. i don't even mean the o.r. tools or scripted things, but how in every scene they're doing comedy while also moving crap around, pouring things, drinking, shaving, changing clothes, handing (or THROWING) things to each other, just making a mess all the time while still hitting their lines and comic beats. it's a master class in whatever that is.

anyway it's so good!!! more to come 💕

#mashblogging #it's about time i watched m*a*s*h

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skribbyposts · 10 months ago

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Corset-Trained (Ch.2 with Smut)!!

HIIIIIII YALL this is long-awaited second chapter to Corset-Trained, which you can find on my Ao3 or if you scroll down on my tumblr page!! I hope its enjoyable this is my first time writing smut lmao.

----

“Then, you mind doing that again?” Sanji says, and there’s no time to form a coherent thought before Zoro’s caging him against the table in the galley with his hands wandering up Sanji’s shirt.

“You’re a fucking animal, you know that right?” Sanji simpers as he gives Zoro an appreciative once over. Zoro mumbles something like ‘yeah, whatever’ and dips his thumbs into the waistband of Sanji’s dress pants to untuck the rest of his shirt- a shiver crawls up his spine from the calloused fingers ghosting along his v-line.

This escalated really quickly, Sanji thinks, but he also realizes he doesn’t mind much. “Eyes up here,” he says to Zoro, and when hazy gray eyes meet his own, he grabs the man by the scruff on the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s rough, at first, and Zoro’s teeth clack unceremoniously against his own. Threading his hands through Zoro’s hair, he tilts his head to the side for better access.

They fall into a rhythm quickly, the mellow push and pull of Zoro’s lips against his steadily ramping up until they’re pressed together everywhere, panting into each other’s mouths.

“Jesus, fuck, you animal,” Sanji gets out between the deep breaths he takes, lamenting over his shirt that Zoro has now ripped half the buttons out.

“You’ll live,” Zoro gripes, watching as Sanji strips the rest of the blue cotton off and discards it in the corner.

“This shit was expensive!”

“Oh, fuck off.” Then strong hands grip his waist fimly and fucking heft him up onto the table.

Theoretically, Sanji knows Zoro is able to pick him up -what,with all three swords he wields- but experiencing it is a different thing. The world tilts on it’s axis momentarily as Sanji’s seated onto the hard wood of the table. He peers down at the other man from where he’s newly perched, and goddamn is it a sight.

Zoro’s as flushed as he is, his hair mussed from the hands running through it. His lips are red and swollen and he’s staring directly Sanji with the most want he’s ever seen on the man’s face before.

“Let me suck your dick,” Zoro says, completely unprompted.

Sanji pauses. What? “...What?” He breathes. Did he heair that right?

Zoro swallows, and Sanji tracks the movement of his throat all the way through the motion.

“Let me- please.” Zoro says again, hands moving to grip Sanji’s thighs. This is the first time Sanji has ever heard that word come out of Zoro’s mouth… like, ever, and the way his voice quavers when he says it goes straight to Sanji’s dick.

“Shit, okay-” And no sooner than the admission passses Sanji’s lips is Zoro unbuckling Sanji’s dress pants, pulling down his boxers just enough to expose Sanji’s painfully hard cock to the heated air of the galley.

A bead of preecum escapes from the red tip of Sanji’s dick, and Zoro’s eyes flash up to meet his own of before Sanji feels Zoro’s tongue slide up the underside of it. Abruptly, Zoro wraps his lips around him and takes him down to the hilt.

“Jesus christ,” Sanji croaks, the heat suddenly enveloping him almost too much to bear. He can feel everything, from the ridges on the roof of Zoro’s mouth to the flat of Zoro’s tongue twitching against his cock. Zoro glances up, eyes asking a silent question.

“Keep- keep going.” The pace that Zoro sets from the beginning is fast, the tip of Sanji’s length hitting the back of his throat every time he bobs down. Zoro’s mouth is tight, and wet, and messy, and Sanji can’t do much besides sit back and try to stifle his moans. Zoro simply hums in response, the vibration sending pangs of pleasure down to Sanji’s fucking toes.

Sanji threads a trembling hand through Zoro’s hair, half muttered praises falling from his lips as the heat in his gut grows. At some point, Sanji’s nose begins to bleed again- he doesn’t know when. It’s all bordering on overstimulating, the combination of Zoro’s mouth and his hands harshly grasping the muscle on Sanji’s thighs making it incredibly hard to focus..

“‘M’gonna cum,” Sanji slurs, and he isn’t really sure if it’s because he’s high off pleasure or the alcohol’s found it’s way into his system. Either way, Zoro comes off with an audible ‘pop’ and leans into the brusining kiss Sanj pulls him into. It tastes overwhelmingly like copper, but neither of them mind all that much.

Zoro finishes Sanji off with a few quick strokes, and the mess splatters between them as Sanji cums with a choked whine cut off by Zoro’s lips against his.

“Fuck”, Sanji breathes after they part, riding out the rest of his post-orgasmic haze and tucking himself back into his boxers. “You sucked the soul outta me.” That gets a gravelly chuckle out of the man in front of him.

“Well, when you have a sword in your mouth all day-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, marimo.”

Zoro rolls his eyes, swiping a tissue from the counter to wipe off the rapidly drying cum off of both of their pants.

After they (and the poor, poor, coffee table) are adequately clean, Sanji prepares to shut the lights in the galley while Zoro waits by the door.

“You owe me for that shirt, by the way,” Sanji remarks, snuffing out the candle hung on the galley’s door.

Zoro huffs. “Whatever you say, curly.” Sanji feels an arm wrap around his midsection as he’s pulled in for another kiss. It’s short and chaste, a contrast to the one delivered to him about five minutes ago.

“Oh, fuck you,” Sanji gripes, Leaving Zoro standing against the doorway in the galley as he marches over to the men's quarters.

“We can do that tomorrow!”

______

OH MY GOD THIS WAS ACTUALLY HELL TO WRITE. Everything i wrote was so awkward i physically COULD NOT WRITE IT. i actually cannot stand beta reading this so please tell me if there are any mistakes i didnt catch while writing this TwT !!! ermm anyways hope you enjoyed!! This will be going up on my Ao3 probably today or tmr so I'll edit the post with the link. okay its 4am and i desperately need sleep. GOODBHYE

#black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #zosan fanfic #zosan brainrot #small wast sanji ftw #one piece smut #the zosan brainworms are TAKING OVER #how the FUCK do you write blowjobs HELP ME.#writers block

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katasstrophy · 2 years ago

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I feel like I've seen every Bluelock boy paired with a very cute, very bubbly, and chill gf/reader before, but I haven't seen any of them paired with a cool and competent or even bossier type. Are there any guys you think of liking that type??? Or maybe just deserve that type to be kept in line lmao 🤣

nonnie!! 😳 NONNIE UR BRAIN I’M GIVING IT A THOUSAND KISSES UR SOOO RIGHT FOR THIS!!! i guess it doesn’t really show with the fics i’ve uploaded so far – which is a damn shame, i should fix that – but i am absolutely all for readers who are just… out there, ya know? they’re prickly, or easy to anger, or sardonic as all hell, or way too clever for their own good or yes yes, bossy<3 i eat that shit UP like it’s my last meal. this is not to say i don’t enjoy sweet, bubbly readers (bc i do!) but the type you describe just… scratches a certain itch iykwim 👁️👁️

i think one of my first posts ever about blue lock on this blog (cw. mid writing LMAO) was exactly about this. obviously most of the blue lock guys are only extreme egoists when they’re playing soccer, but i do think that aspect of their lives will ultimately start to bleed into their personality as they grow up/go pro. so having someone who’s just like “yeah that’s great and all but if you won’t make it to date night i’ll leave your sorry ass” is just. so sexy to them like?? they haven’t gotten their ego knocked down a peg in a while so i think they’d be drawn to a partner like that askdhxnbz idk if i’m explaining this very well but as far as i’m concerned all blue lock boys deserve an unhinged reader lol 😤

THAT BEING SAID!!! >:))) i have a top three list of blue lock men who i, personally, would love to put in their place and encourage anyone out there to do so as well LOL

1. MICHAEL KAISER — this cocky motherfucker ugh need i say more 🙄 the urge to censor his name was real strong but i persevered still cannot believe i’m (sadly) attracted to this horrible, horrible man. he’s sooo insufferable and just so obsessed with himself like he unironically refers to himself as the emperor when i tell you there’s nothing i want more than to make this man beg on his knees i mean it – what a pretty sight that would be hm? <3 all his past lovers probably treated him like he was god’s greatest gift to women (HE IS NOT) – and by now he’s not only used to it but comes to expect it – so when he meets you and you’re like “mm you’re kind of a prick leave me alone thenk yew✨✨” he’s just. so scandalized LMFAO suddenly he’s the one chasing after you and vying for a shred of your attention oooohh yes that’s exactly what he deserves how it should be

2. ITOSHI SAE — listen he might be my precious babygirl now but i used to hate this mans guts like no other and that little resentment still lives on in my heart in the form of wanting this man’s downfall to be a woman like don’t tell me that’s not the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. he’s just so single-mindedly focused on soccer – japan’s treasure and what not – and thinks he can get away with being an asshole because of it but you place down your foot and tell him to cut the bullshit or you’ll find someone who treats you better (AMEN SISTER) and suddenly he’s grappling with the reality that shit he might just fall apart without you yes girl make him suffer

3. OLIVER AIKU — i couldn’t not include the resident fuckboy here mmmm the possibilities for him are endless and each one more delicious than the last. he might not be as insufferable as the others but he still thinks extremely highly of himself, especially when it comes to his way with the ladies. typical “oh no i don’t do relationships” kinda guy who can show you a good time for a night before dipping in the morning – and you just don’t want that. so you reject his advances, say you’re not interested and move on, but for some reason, oliver can’t. literally physically wounds his pride when he crawls back for a second chance but you don’t budge, still wary of him due to his past behavior unless he can show you otherwise. and the way he scrambles to prove himself as trustworthy to you? god tier groveling from a man YUMM

#—ping! new message from (anon)#AKSHHDJD THIS GOT SO LONG AND RAMBLY AGAIN SORRY!!#but you have a fat juicy brain on you nonnie #idk if this is exactly what you wanted but these are the thoughts that jumped out so hope that’s okay!! <3 #blue lock x reader #—bllk.thoughts!

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yeehawbvby · 1 year ago

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Falling Away With You | Ch. 48

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao

Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*

My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!

I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.

Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.

For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.

After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.

I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though.

Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.

I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.

Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.

I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay.

I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.

Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.

I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.

After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.

While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...

I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.

I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.

I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.

We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down.

“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”

I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.

Great.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”

I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?”

I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground…

A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.

Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.

God damnit.

“Nice one.”

God fucking damnit.

I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.

Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing.

I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”

Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?”

I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.”

I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.

Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.

“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”

My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”

There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”

I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.

Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.

Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.

I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.

“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”

Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.

“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.

“Buh.”

…Buh?

I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!

Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.

The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.

The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady.

The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.

While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty.

I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…

No. I shan’t.

I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!

Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world.

Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.

He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.

I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed.

Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.

Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.

“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.

He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.

“Hell yeah, thanks dude!”

I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”

“You didn’t make yourself one?”

I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”

Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”

Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.”

“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.

“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!”

“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.

“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.

It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”

“Shit, here.”

Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps.

I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”

Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.”

I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.

Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.

I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.

This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…

I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly.

My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.

I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”

My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”

Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.

“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”

…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid?

Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.

My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.

I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!

Screw this guy!

Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”

“E-excuse me?!”

I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”

“I— w-what are you doing?”

Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.

Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.

Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!

Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”

This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.

I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.

Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.”

HUH?

I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.

“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy.

My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.

“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”

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