#and i would at least like a phone call or something

[godineedtoread]

y'all I had THOUGHTS

So- we know Simon has like a really deep voice right ? and also the fact that he never shows his face. so-

can you imagine him being one of those nsfw audio creators ?? do you see what I see ?

His masked face as the profile picture, the sexy deep british accent. That gruff voice of his saying such explicitly suggestive things..

It'll probably take like- a month or something before his fame spreads like wildfire, thanks to his military soldier x nurse audio, driving people insane. comments section filled with varying degrees of horny comments on his deep gruff voice.

He quickly became the internet hot topic, paired with the fact that there's hardly any information about him given out except his alias- Ghost, it was only natural that people became more and more attracted towards him. (because when have we liked men showing their faces 😭)

His popularity only rose higher, and so he takes the financially beneficial step, he makes a patreon. Having these special steamy phone conversation lucky draw for his highest paying members each month. "You're so cute you know ?" "You're my pretty girl" "Fuck, you're mine you hear me ?"

It was work for Simon, nothing exciting most of the time. He gave them a good time and he got his money in return. And it PAID for sure, 100+ members for his highest tier alone.

But this time..it so happens to be you. He didn't much of it as usual, well, at least until he heard your pretty voice greet him through the phone. His heart skipped a little, hearing your sweet earnest voice talking into his ear. How, he could hear you blush. You were just too cute, too good.

So he offers to guide you through your orgasm, a special feature added only for this month (totally not because his own dick was getting hard thanks to you) and you of course eagerly agree, who wouldn't ? "Are you close baby ?"

He whispers in his signature sultry voice, holding the phone with one hand while the other languidly strokes his growing bulge. "y-yes, so close", you whimper into the phone rubbing yourself with increasing pace. "Yeah ? You're gonna be a good girl and cum for me ?" His says, breath hitching as he feels himself getting close. He hears you moan his alias, wishing he could just tell you- call me simon luvie. But he can't risk exposing himself. So he just settles for you sweet whispers "Ghost I'm cumming !"

As you finally get over from your high, you thank him profusely for his 'surprise' service, unaware of the fact that you just gave him a surprise service too. He regains his composure getting back to you with a, "I'm glad you enjoyed it", because he sure did. "So would you be interested in a special video call service lucky draw next time ?"

safe to say, the draw was rigged. ;)

[ghstzzn]

roommates for dummies!

pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.

part one! wc: 5.7k

tags/warnings (for this part): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), threesome(s), fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, pullout method, oral ( m rec), deepthroating, cum eating/cum play/just cum stuff ig, voyeurism, degradation, name calling, some praise, manhandling, sex standing up idk just trust me, no aftercare, silly bit at the end, heeseung thinks he's sooooo funny! that's it for this part i believe.

🍊: havent posted smth fr in awhile kind of nervous. not much happens except sex but thats the point of this. by the way this is one of three/four parts ♡ enjoy and Uhhhhhh uhhhuhhh uhhhhhhhh

masterlist / part two

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

you savored every second you spent outside of your new home.

sure, you were beyond grateful to have a place to live. in fact, you were lucky considering how quickly you got in this situation. losing your old place due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a, your ex boyfriend kicking you out of his apartment after you caught him cheating on you despite you paying more than half of his rent.

though, you figured his new girlfriend could handle that portion now.

you crashed on your friends couch for a few days, actively searching for anyone looking for a new roommate. she assured you that you could stay as long as you needed, and there was no need to rush, but you were stubborn and had quite the false sense of being independent. 

which is why you clicked on the first ad you saw. a nice five bedroom house, the spare having its own bathroom and it was closer to campus unlike your last apartment. you couldn’t find much information on the poster, but you were desperate so you quickly dialed in the number on screen and waited while it rang.

you were taken aback when a male voice loudly boomed from the other side. you pulled the phone away from your ear and double checked the number— it was typed in correctly.

“hello?” he spoke again. “hellooooooo-”

“uh, sorry.” you cleared your throat. “i saw an ad online that you were looking for a new roo-”

the male cuts you off, “yeaahhh. man, was wondering when someone would respond.” you cringe at the way he interrupted you. “you lookin’ for someone else? no offense but you sound a little… y’know, like a girl.”

you let out a sigh, nodding even though he couldn’t see you, “i’m calling for myself… i wasn’t aware you were a man but– actually, i’m a little desperate.”

“yeah? desperate?” he chuckles. you raise an eyebrow at the response. “alright, can you meet me here then?”

caught off guard once more by the sudden eagerness of the stranger, you stuttered out a quick yes.

“cool. i’ll text you the address n’ shit.”

the phone hangs up, not sparring you a moment to respond. you blink as you stare at your phone, watching as you receive a few messages from the number you had just called. 

at least you had other options if this didn’t go as planned.

jake spun around in the barstool at the kitchen island, letting out a puff of air as he waited patiently.

“you waiting for something?” jake turns his head towards the voice. jay walks through the kitchen, chewing on some kind of protein bar.

the antsy male leans forward against the counter, “our new roomie. she said she’d be here ten minutes ago.”

“oh.” jay responds before stopping in his tracks as he actually lets jakes words enter his brain. “wait, what? new roommate? she?”

“yeah man,” jake lets out another huff. “she’s late.”

“no, run that back.” the other male draws circles into the air. “when the fuck did we get a new roommate? and why is it a woman?”

“we have a new roommate?” another voice rings through the kitchen.

jake turns around in his chair with a sigh, “yes guys! jeez, you all need to learn patience– she’ll be here soon.”

“she?” the voice, belonging to heeseung, questions. 

“that’s what i’m wondering!”

“ladies please, one at a time.” the male stands from his seat. “we have a new roommate, yes. she’s a woman, also yes.”

heeseung furrows his eyebrows, thinking for a moment before jay speaks up once more, “don’t we get a say in this? or at least some type of interview?”

“is she hot?” heeseung chimes in immediately after, receiving a scoff from jay.

“totally.” jake snickers. “her voice told me enough about her. sounded so nervous too, it was cute.”

“you don’t even know what she looks like?”

“you seriously only think with that dick of yours.” heeseung comments, shaking his head.

“says you!” jay frowns at the other roommate.

the doorbell rings twice, drawing the attention from all three males. heeseung straightens his posture, quickly checking his appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel refrigerator. jay finishes his protein bar in one bite and clears his throat.

jake rolls his eyes at the two, “careful now, don’t pop a boner in front of her.”

he practically skips over to the door, almost giggling out loud. he pulls the front door open just before you ring the doorbell once more. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

you look him up and down, quite shocked at the attractive face he had.

“uh, yeah, sorry about that.” you respond, clearing your throat. “traffic was heavy.”

“that’s okay, babe.” he opens the door wider, inviting you in, not even hiding the way his eyes immediately land on your ass as you walk in front of him.

your gaze immediately fell on a taller man with red hair, who you assumed was heeseung (you weren’t viewing this house without stalking the people who resided in it), now wearing a beanie and leaned over the counter with his chin resting on his hand. he shot you a crooked smile and waved his fingers at you. 

“hey roomie.”

jay looks at the man in disbelief; and so do you.

“i’m actually just here to tour and interview… right?” you turn to look at jake who shrugs.

“i mean we all agreed you could move in.”

“since whe-”

jake cuts jay off and steps closer to you, “you said you were desperate right? you don’t seem like a weirdo or a bitch so just give us a move-in date and you’re good.”

you squint your eyes at him, confused and questioning this entire thing. your friend's couch doesn’t seem like a bad idea, she even offered to renew her lease for a bigger space in a few months. 

“we promise we won't bother you or anything,” he continues, “you have your own bathroom and the door has a working lock. swear on our lives you’ll barely see us.”

before you could even respond, the front door opens and slams shut. a taller man walks past you and jake, clearly locked into whatever was on his phone. he continued to walk past the kitchen before stopping and spinning around.

“new roommate.” heeseung tells him. the other male lets out an “oh” and nods his head at you before walking away, probably to his room.

you let out a sigh and the three remaining boys turn their attention back to you.

“can i just see the room?” 

-

bothering you was the only thing these fools ever did. 

the front door shuts with a slam and you’re immediately greeted by heeseung sprawled out on the couch scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the mess leftover from their small house party from last night. the one that kept you up half the night despite begging them to turn in early for the sake of your sanity.

you run your hands through your hair, frustrated that the house looks exactly the same as it did early this morning. well, save for the leftover food that heeseung managed to put in the fridge. kicking off your shoes, you make your way into the kitchen and grab the trash bag that was left on the counter and start tossing all the empty beer cans and disposable cups in.

heeseung looks up from his phone to find the source of the angry slams and movements, smirking when his eyes land on you.

“woah there,” he calls out to you, “wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

you look up from the trash bag, throwing a can in it with so much force it somehow bounces out, only fueling your anger, “save it.”

heeseung chuckles, standing up from the couch and stretching while letting out an obnoxious groan. he walks around the couch and leans against the back of it.

“are you gonna help or just stand there?” you motion towards the mess on the counters.

“no, yeah, i think i'll just stand here. i’m kind of loving this scene with you in the kitchen.” 

you look at him, disbelief written all over your face, “so you’re lazy and a misogynist, nice!”

“what? no,” heeseung looks almost offended at your accusation. “no, babe, i’m not a misogynist– i literally love pussy. i could prove that to you right now if you’d like.”

“not a misogynist, just horny. got it.” 

your roommate only shrugs and pulls out his phone once more. the carefree attitude of his was only adding to the frustration building in your chest. you cross your arms and glance around. “where are the others?”

heeseung hums, you only assume he’s using the full power of his brain as he recalls the whereabouts of the other three roommates, but really he’s only focusing on how your tits bounce ever so slightly with every angry movement if your arms.

“jake’s asleep, jay’s attending a group meditation and sunghoon… should be home in a few. why? miss them?”

you wanted nothing more than to take the metal scrub pad near the sink and scrub at the stupid smirk on his face. instead, you nod and take a deep breath.

the door opens just on cue however. sunghoon walks in, kicking his shoes off in two different directions with a bag of full of bottles clinking against each other. the noise of the liquor bottles only added to your rage.

“really? more alcohol?” you comment and point towards the counter where a few unopened and opened bottles sat. “you have all of this– plus the entire mini fridge full of drinks.”

sunghoon raises a brow at you, “okay. but that’s liquor for functions, not me.”

you wave your hands in front of you. it made zero sense to you.

the taller male looks at sunghoon, “what’s wrong with her?”

“man, i don't know.” heeseung replies with a sigh, “she came in here all pissy and started slamming shit.”

they were having a conversation about you– in front of you.

“what? why?”

he shrugs again, “like i said, don't know. maybe she should follow jay to one of his meditation sessions.”

you roll your eyes, “you’re not funny, heeseung.” he lets out a snicker. you grab a rag from the counter and chuck it in his direction.

sunghoon whistles at the action and sets the bags he was holding onto the counter.

“i’m seriously regretting this whole living arrangement.”

heeseung pouts and crosses his arms over his chest dramatically, “hey! we aren’t that bad to live with.” he protests, though his tone is playful. “at least give us a chance to redeem ourselves. look, we’ll help clean up the rest of the mess.”

you sigh and nod, it’s the least they could do but you won't protest. turning around, you glance at sunghoon, who was now storing away the liquor he had bought and the leftover bottles. 

“...except, it looks like you’ve finished.” heeseung grins. “thanks, darling.”

you shoulders fall in defeat, “i fucking hate you.”

he chuckles loudly as you study the room. he was right. you had completely cleaned the kitchen, minus the few liquor bottles that sunghoon had just stored away.

“no, no. she missed one thing.” sunghoon calls out causing the two of you to whip your heads in his direction. he crouches down and picks up the can that bounced out of the trash bag earlier and tosses it in the trash. “hah, how funny is that? it was right next to the bag too.”

heeseungs no longer holding back his laughter. you question whether or not the dude is blasted out of his mind right now because you definitely didn’t find a single thing about this funny.

“hey, chill.” sunghoon butts in, “i’ll wipe down the counters and shit.”

you turn to face him, “did you by chance buy any cleaning supplies while out?”

“no, why?”

heeseung laughs louder, wiping at his eyes. 

“i really don’t understand what could possibly be so funny about any of this.”

his laughter eventually dies down, finally shutting up. “sorry, sorry.” he clears his throat. “but seriously, thanks for cleaning up. you’re a real one for that.”

you hum and let out a sarcastic sure, heeseung nods and walks past you, patting your shoulder causing you to scrunch your face in disgust. you turn to follow his figure with your eyes, but you catch sunghoon staring at you.

“what?”

“hm, nothing. just wondering when you’re gonna snap out of your little tantrum.” he responds calmly, leaning against the counter. “it’s getting old, to be honest with you.”

you bite your lip, holding back a response to him. you watch as heeseung wipes his hand on a paper towel, throwing it on the counter right after.

sunghoon sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “seriously, what’s the big deal? nobody here is forcing you to clean up after us.”

“but it’s all the time,” you groan. “the constant parties and get-togethers you host while i’m trying to sleep after a long day or studying– then having to come out and clean it all up because you three are nowhere to be seen? i can only deal with so much.”

his expression hardens and heeseung leans against the counter with a bored expression, “well, maybe if you’d let loose for once and joined in on the fun every once in a while, instead of holing yourself up in your room like a hermit, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

“fuck off.”

sunghoon scoffs, “my point exactly. you’re so uptight and bitchy— it’s not fun. you aren’t better than us for that.”

“sorry i don’t want to be involved in your weird ass parties.” you respond with a shrug.

“such a princess,” heeseung giggles, “always complaining, never participating. seriously, they aren’t as bad as you make them seem.” 

sunghoon nods in agreement, “yeah, i’m telling you that you’d be able to tolerate us a lot more if you cared to let go of that boring, angry personality of yours and showed up.”

you throw your hands up, more than done with the conversation. “whatever, i don’t care anymore. just… just clean up a little more. it’s all i ask.”

heeseung pouts exaggeratedly, eyeing the way you surrender in defeat “oh come on, princess. don’t be like that.” he tries to sound apologetic, “we’re only messing around with you.”

“yeah! we don’t care if you prude around alone in your room!” sunghoon adds, “but just for you, we’ll clean up after ourselves, your highness.”

“you both are childish.” you spit out, biting the inside of your cheeks as the frustration threatens to spill out in the form of tears.

heeseung grins, not at all put off by your insult, “childish? rich coming from the girl who’s about to cry from a little teasing.” he taunts, voice laced with amusement.

you scoff in response, turning around so you could leave the situation and escape to your room, but sunghoon has other plans as he steps right in front of you. his arms automatically wrap around your waist to steady you, his face mere inches away from you as you look up at him, shooting him a glare.

“where do you think you’re going, princess?” he flashes you a knowing smile, voice low and teasing.

you attempt to lean away from his face that only seems to inch closer, jumping slightly when the back of your head comes into contact with heeseungs chin. “to my room– away from the two of you.”

“oh, don’t let us stop you then.” heeseung grins from behind, his cheek nuzzling against your hair. 

“let me go then?”

“but we weren’t done,” sunghoon attempts to feign a pout, but his smirk grows stronger as he studies the way your body reacts to him, “we still have to thank you for cleaning the mess up.”

heeseung hums against your ear, “seriously. how sweet of you, doll.”

“you can thank me by leaving me alone.” you mumble, though you do nothing to back away from the situation. you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat sped up from being sandwiched between the two, or the way your core pulsed from the way sunghoon traced small patterns into your side.

sunghoon chuckles, all knowing of what was running through your mind, “aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he asks, hands sliding down to your hips, giving them a teasing squeeze. “we love spending time with our favorite roomie.”

your hands fall on top of his, unsure on whether or not you should remove them from your hips. his eyes follow the movements of your hands, letting out a soft chuckle as he watches the way your mind struggles against the need you feel for the two.

“mm, not so fast baby.” heeseung purrs, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. “what did we say? gotta give you a proper thank you.”

“how?”

sunghoon smiles, looking at heeseung before turning his attention back to you. “they say actions speak louder than words,” he responds. “we’ll make sure to make it very clear just how grateful we are for you.”

you gulp as he responds, your thighs clenching together at the tone of his voice. the gaze in his eyes told you exactly what the two men wanted from you, the way they looked at you as if you were prey.

heeseung grows impatient from behind, his face nuzzling against your skin as he peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches your shoulder, biting the skin causing you to let out a gasp. he chuckles darkly before tucking his finger under the thin strap of your tank top and letting it fall off your shoulder.

he lifts his head and switches to your other shoulder, resting his chin on your shoulder as he travels his hand down your torso, reaching the waistband of your shorts.

your automatic response is to grab his hands but sunghoon shakes his head and grabs them, linking his fingers between yours and bringing them up to his shoulders. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting your cheek.

sunghoon begins planting soft but deliberate kisses against your skin, following the trail that heeseung had left earlier, kissing and sucking the bite mark left by the other male.

the man behind you takes the chance, shoving his hand down your shorts that he had undone moments before while you were distracted. he grins when he doesn’t feel any other fabric beneath your shorts.

“isn’t that just convenient?” he grins, giddy at the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear. 

“w-wait,” you stutter out, suddenly aware of where you were standing.

sunghoon grips one of your hands, guiding it over his chest, “shh, it’s fine.”

heeseungs hand dips lower, his middle finger sliding through your slit. he lets out a groan before removing his hand from your shorts but quickly yanks them down, letting them fall to your ankles.

you let out a small yelp due to the quickness of the male. he glides his finger from your dripping hold, gathering your slick and moving to your clit, tapping it a few times before pressing down. 

“can’t believe you’re already this wet just from a little bit of touching,” he groans against your shoulder. “really thought we’d have to ease you into this– but you wanted this bad, huh?”

sunghoon smirks against your neck, lifting his head, wanting to see your face as heeseung pleasures you with his fingers, “c’mon, don’t tease her. poor girl probably hasn’t been touched properly in awhile.”

“is that true?” the male behind you questions softly but teasing, “were you just waiting for one of us to fuck you stupid?”

their teasing voices combined with heeseungs fingers massaging at your clit cause you to let out a soft whine. one buck of your hips has sunghoon reaching down and holding your hips in place for heeseung to continue his attack on your sensitive bud.

“you don’t even have to respond,” sunghoon mutters, “look at the way you’re whining and squirming.”

heeseung slips a finger in your core, pumping a few times before slipping another one inside of you. the feeling of your warm cunt walls wrapped around his fingers is enough to send him reeling, he grinds his hips into your ass with a grunt. 

the male in front of you has to tighten his grip on your hips, rolling his eyes. you let out a loud moan when heeseung curls his fingers inside of you, he brings his other hand to cover your mouth.

“don’t wanna wake jakey up, do you?” his voice is low, hot breath hitting the side of your face. you shake your head desperately as he continues to finger fuck you, scissoring and curling his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.

“look at her, hee.” sunghoon mumbles, admiring the way you look between the two men, “so pretty like this, isn’t she? if i knew this was a good way to get her to shut up, i'd have done it earlier.”

heeseung chuckles darkly, lips trailing against your neck once more, “she’s so fuckin’ greedy too. literally dripping down my hand… aren’t you, baby?”

you let out a muffled whine and nod your head shamelessly. 

“yeah? you’re doing so good like this,” he continues, “but i think you need more.”

heeseung pulls his fingers out of you and removes his hand from your mouth. you’re about to question him but he’s pushing you forward while pulling your hips back against him. sunghoon holds you steady as the male behind you undoes his pants.

“take your time, hee.” sunghoon comments, slowly losing his patience. “jay’s gonna be home soon.”

“‘m fucking trying,” he mutters in response, successfully freeing his hardened cock with his one hand. “hold her still and shut up.”

sunghoon rolls his head back in irritation and tightens his grip on you.

“you’ll need to cover her mouth too. i’m not sharing her between you and jake today.”

your taller roommate doesn’t respond again but brings his hand up to your mouth with a smirk. you whimper softly through his hand when you feel heeseung slide his tip through your wetness, gathering it on his cock. he rocks his hips a few times, teasing your clit before catching onto your hole and slowly pushing in.

“fuuuck,” he hisses. “she’s so damn tight, sunghoon.”

“just fuck her,” sunghoon responds impatiently, he tilts his head down at you. “that’s what you want right, babygirl?”

you let out a muffled grunt when heeseung bottoms out inside of you. he waits only a few moments before pulling out almost completely, then pushing back inside of you with more force and speed. 

the two men have you perfectly held in place, controlling the movements of your body as heeseung speeds up his thrusts. each rock of his hips draws out a moan from you, covered by sunghoons hand.

heeseung groans softly, his pace never slowing as he takes all the pleasure he can get from your body. “she’s seriously so tight.” he growls, his grip tightening on your body. “feel that? feel how well you wrap around my cock, baby?”

your eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. your cunt continues to squeeze around his cock as he pounds into you. sunghoon watches the way his roommates cock disappears inside of you, the way your juices glisten everytime he pulls out before slamming back in.

his own cock twitches in his pants, he’s so painfully hard and getting impatient. sunghoon wishes it were just him here instead of heeseung, wishing it were him being the one to fuck you– and only him. you let out a high pitch whine as heeseung speeds up his pace, his tip hitting your g-spot deliciously. he brings a hand down to rub at you clit, causing you to jump from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“mm, she jus’ gets tighter.” he slurs, drunk on the way your pussy sucks him in. “you like that, don’t you? shit.. y’gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

your eyes are shut, in a complete daze from the way his cock is fucking you. sunghoon smirks at the sight, in love with the way you’re fully enjoying every second of this.

“minutes ago you were about to rip our heads off,” he coos, “now you’re over here drooling on my hand over some cock. just a little slut, aren't you? maybe i was wrong about you being a prude.”

heeseung’s barely keeping it together behind you as his hips meet your ass with haste, hissing and groaning with each thrust. he’s uncoordinated and sloppy yet still hitting that spot deep inside of you, throwing your body towards sunghoon, who keeps a bruising grip on you as the other male pounds into you.

your past self would be embarrassed to see you now, yet, you couldn’t feel an ounce of shame at the moment. it feels as if heeseung’s fucking all the frustration out of you.

it’s dirty. the way the two men have you sandwiched in the kitchen— straight out of a cheap porno. every time you start to think about jay or jake strolling in and catching the three of you, it only makes your core throb more with need.

“what are you thinking about?” sunghoon whispers, leaning closer, offering his chest for your head to lean against. “hmm, baby? you thinking about something else while fucking yourself on heeseungs cock?”

the male mentioned lets out a loud groan, gripping your hips and pulling you back harder against him. you could tell he was close, as were you. your hands tug on the fabric of sunghoons shirt, attempting to pull yourself up. but with his hand on your mouth, you can’t let them know so you rely on your body language. 

“gonna cum for me?” heeseung grumbles, leaning closer to you. his thrusts are deep and rough as he chases his high. “c’mon, cum on this cock…” 

you feel your cunt flutter around him as you hit your peak, a muffled squeal leaving your mouth as you finally cum. heeseung pants, giving you a few more thrusts before pulling out completely and fisting his cock until he’s cumming all over your lower back and ass.

sunghoon removes his hand from your mouth causing you to take a deep breath, he wipes his hand on his pant leg which goes unnoticed by you. 

“jesus-” heeseung breathes out from behind you, hand gripping the counter. “fuck, that was good. why didn’t you tell me you felt this good before?”

you don’t reply to him– you just continue to lean against sunghoon as you regain all composure. the tall male keeps a hand on your waist as the other slowly unbuckles his belt. your other roommate redresses himself after using a paper towel to wipe himself down, giving your ass a small smack in the process.

“yo,” sunghoon calls out to him, earning a raised eyebrow in response. he cocks his head behind him. “keep jake in his room, yeah?”

“now?”

the man you were still using as support scoffs, “yes, dude. now..”

heeseungs stands there for a moment, looking at you as you finally turn around, slowly reaching to pull your shorts up. he clicks his tongue and walks off with a groan.

as soon as his footsteps fade away, sunghoon yanks your arm away from the article of clothing and pushes you against the kitchen counter. you gasp when the cold countertop makes contact with your skin. “s-sunghoon!”

he smacks his lips and pushes your sticky lower back down to keep you still, “you seriously thought i was about to let you walk away? after you made me watch him fuck you like that?”

he lifts his now cum covered hand off your back, studying it for a few moments. “not gonna let me have any fun? especially after you used me like a fucking wall?” he grips your face with his other hand, leaning over you as he shoves his fingers in your mouth.

the thick salty flavor hits your tongue immediately and you close your lips around his soaked fingers, the rest of the cum on his hand completely coating your chin and jaw. 

“you like that?” sunghoon chuckles darkly. “you know how pathetic you look right now?”

you groan around his fingers as he rocks his hips against you, grinding his bare cock in your slick. he doesn’t waste a second before shoving himself inside of you causing you to bite down on his fingers from the sudden full feeling once again.

sunghoon hisses in response, pulling out before roughly thrusting into you. the corner of the counter is digging into your hip but you couldn’t be bothered to resituate yourself. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and snakes his hand in between your thighs, pressing against your clit as he starts to pound into you. his other hand is on the back of your neck, a tight grip as he uses it to stabilize himself.

your own cum is dripping down your thighs as sunghoon’s cock forces it out with each thrust. it’s truly a struggle to stay quiet, your moans are coming out in rough whimpers and deep breaths. you lay your upper body flat against the counter and hide your face in your arms to help muffle your sounds of pleasure.

though it wouldn’t even matter if anyone could hear your cries because the sound of wet skin slapping against each other could surely be heard from the other side of the neighborhood. 

“fuck, you’re taking me so good right now. heeseung loosened you up for me, didn’t he?”  sunghoons voice is low and rough, almost stuttering over his words. “so fuckin’ greedy for cock– look at you.”

if it weren’t for your arms, your face would be squashed into the hard countertops from the sheer force of his hand around the back of your neck pushing it down. sunghoon doesn’t notice, nor does he care about his roughness because truly all he cares about is cumming. 

you can hear the door slam and you try to lift your hand, in sheer panic, but sunghoon shoves it back down with a grumble. 

“t’sup?” sunghoon lets out a sigh and throws his head back.

“nothing,” the voice, belonging to jay, responds. he throws a few envelopes on the counter and sighs. “another noise complaint– like dude, who fucking cares? they act like the cops are gonna bust us or something.”

never in a million years did you think you would be getting backshots while two people had a completely casual conversation as you were between them.

sunghoon groans, his pace barely slowing, “my parents own half this fuckin’ neighborhood.”

“that’s what i’m saying! these complaints are useless.” jay responds, an annoyed tone lacing his voice. “is that– y’know what, i’m tired. clean the counters when you’re done.”

and with that, jay is walking away. you only hope he’s heading to his bedroom. however, your entire body is hot with embarrassment yet you feel yourself about to cum any second.

“fuck– sunghoon! s-slow down.” you barely cry out as you cream around his cock. he rolls his eyes, not that you could see, before pulling out completely. 

you take a deep breath before he grabs you and spins you around, pushing you to your knees. your hands fly to his thighs, trying to catch yourself before bruising your knees. 

sunghoon spares you a wicked smirk before tapping the tip of his cock against your lips, in which you invite him in with zero hesitance. he doesn’t start slow, immediately pushing his cock to your throat, enough to bring tears to your eyes before pulling out to let you breathe.

and he does it again. and again. until you're coughing around his cock.

“yeah, just like that, baby.” the male sighs, hand gripping your hair. he lets you take another deep breath before shoving his cock deeper down your throat. “look at you gagging– fuck, this is so good.”

he repeats his actions until his cock is twitching with the need to cum. sunghoon gives a few thrusts before pulling back slightly and cumming all over your tongue and throat. his release was almost too much for you, but he didn’t care that it was dripping out of your mouth, or that you were borderline choking on it.

“swallow.”

you try to shake your head no but he only tugs on your hair, “you can.”

shakily, you cover your mouth as you gulp, swallowing his sticky release. sunghoon chuckles, completely satisfied. 

“you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” he cooes. his thumb, sticky with heeseungs earlier release, wipes at your tears. you can only stare at him as he continues to degrade you. “oh, don’t be ashamed, princess, it’s perfect for us.”

you wipe at the corner of your mouth before grabbing your shorts that are laid close by. grabbing the counter edge above, you pull yourself up, not at all wanting to ask for sunghoons help. he leans against the counter, fixing his belt, completely uninterested in you.

slipping the shorts on felt useless in front of him. what was there to hide at this point?

“i’m gonna shower.”

“yeah, sure. i’ll try not to use any hot water for the next hour.”

you give him a nod. well, this is fucking weird. but you honestly would rather take this than it be awkward. genuinely, you would rather not have him force himself to give you soft and sweet aftercare. 

“jays cooking tonight!” sunghoon calls out to you as you head back to your room. you roll your eyes and push your door open.

you: 

    hypothetically, i have this friend who wanted to move out of her current place because she HATES her roommates but she just fucked 2 of them…. at the same time and suddenly doesnt want to leave

from: chaewon 💓

       what the FUCK did u just say to me

you:

     so basically im fucked

🍊: @filmnings @deobitifull @leov3rse @hooniehon @roslayy @strxwbloody @cutiepatootiejungwon @jakeswifez @yuriknows @d-dilemma (bold couldn’t be tagged / taglist open!)

[hopefulidiocy]

nsfw salesman?🫣

Bitch

Salesman x Fem!Y/N

Warnings: rough sex, gun play, p in v, foreplay (f receiving), SMUT, not kind, but he feels something for her.

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

Red dress. Heels.

The text came through when you were sat in your lecture, scribbling down notes you weren’t going to look at later but knew you had to do something to get him out of your mind. For the past few months you had been playing a tedious game with a nameless man, someone who had been following you for months before he turned up at your flat with four words…

“Let’s play a game.”

And you, being intrigued in this handsome man, agreed to play with him. Despite your gut telling you to run. He came every Monday an hour after your classes without fail. And without fail, you were undone every time he left.

The text came as a surprise, leaving you breathless as the class came to an end. He left no time, no place to meet, just what to wear. How the fuck could you find a red dress within the depths of your sweaters and baggy jeans? Dresses don’t suit you. It’s not a part of you. At least that’s what you thought. He might’ve seen something in those twinkling hours above your naked body, maybe he thought you’d look good in a dress. So, the port of call is to call your best friend.

It took a few tries to get through to her but she finally answered.

“What?” Her gruff voice came through your phone, she had definitely just woken up.

“Have you got a red dress?” Both of you rarely said hello to each other.

“Yes. Why?”

“Okay I’m coming over.” You hung up, tucking your phone into your back pocket and taking off down the green campus, onto the busy Main Street and basically becoming Usain Bolt towards your best friend’s apartment.

No questions asked, she thrusted the red dress in your arms and oh my god it was fucking short. It wouldn’t even cover your ass but you had the short straw here, you couldn’t simply bargain for a longer red dress because no one owns one these days. Your best friend is a hoarder so it’s usually more than likely she will have something.

Evening was drawing in, you had blown out your hair knowing it would be completely lax by the time you arrived back at your own apartment; the dress definitely didn’t cover anything, you would look better going out naked; the heels were too high and it took a few rounds of your bedroom to walk like a normal person but at least your make up was astonishingly. You were waiting by the door, anxiously tapping your toes against the wood. The knock came, once and then twice before you answered. He took one swift look at you, with that shit eating smirk of his.

“Beautiful.” And then he led you to a place with dim lighting and dark candles.

“I need you to remember something for me y/n.” He leaned forward, his elbows pressed into the table as his eyes zoned in on you, darkening with every passing second. “You’re my bitch, okay?” Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck as you squeezed your thighs together, his mouth was slightly puckered as you attempted to find the words that roamed freely in your mind. He cleared his throat, looking marginally disappointed at your silence. You simply couldn’t find any words to say. His arm reached for his briefcase, pulling it up to his lap as his hand completely disappeared inside of it. You watched him, mouth dry and throat closed as he threw a black gun on the table. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he examined you with one elbow on the table and his fingers touching his chin, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Is-Is it loaded?” You managed to muster. He broke out into a mocking laugh, it shook the room. You leaned back in the chair, trying to breathe as his snake-like moves suddenly came closer. His broad hand wrapped around the gun as he pressed the cold brass against your temple, your breath hitched and died in your throat as he clicked the revolver. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, his breath hot compared to the cold shivers that were coursing through your body; a shock sent straight to your abdomen.

“Would you like to find out?” His voice was so low it was barely audible as his lips sent waves down your spine, he wasn’t kissing you, just simply grazing his lips against your neck, teasing you until your hands clenched in your lap.

“Answer me.” His wrist wrapped around your locks and pulling harshly, the gun still taped to your temple.

The sane side of you wanted to say no, that side wanted to push him away and point the gun at the centre of his head. But you knew you’d be seeing stars before day break, before the moon fully made itself present you’d be shaking under his touch, and you loved it. Every second you loved the way he made you feel, how his fingers played you like a toy.

“Yes.” You whispered, a small tear forming at the corner of your eye. He chuckled darkly before kicking your legs apart, suddenly revealed to him in the candlelight. He trailed the gun down from your temple to your chin as he got onto his knees for you, the only time he ever did, and hitched your dress to your hips. He tutted, shaking his head.

“Why are you wearing these?” His index finger poked at your black underwear, the only thing saving your dignity and the way he poked at you sent a harsh gasp through your body and out your mouth. He narrowed his eyes before smirking, with one hand he yanked your underwear until it was dangling over your heels. Devastatingly slowly the gun traced over your collarbone, to your breast bone, to your naval and finally onto your clitoris. The cold metal stung and the thrill of danger had you weak, it was unlike anything you felt before even from him; he clicked the gun and you shrieked despite yourself even though this gun was obviously not loaded. His gun was left on the space between your legs on the seat as his hand grazed over your inner thigh before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, similar but better than earlier in the car. He watched you through his dark eyelashes as you slowly lolled your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch to your sensitivity; he licked his lips as he sweetly kissed you on your pussy before diving in. You clutched on the sides of your chair, moans escaping your throat as you looked towards the ceiling, letting him work his tongue all over you. Black vision spilled in front of you as your body played along with his beautiful music, your vision completely blurred as a cold wave crashed over you, causing your knuckles to go white due to the hard pressure against the chair. You knew you were shrieking, but your body completely detached as he continued using you, your noises far away as if it’s in another room. White noise rushed into your hearing as your body began to tremble, your thighs locking him shut between you as he worked faster and faster on you until you folded into yourself. The cold air hit your aching skin as he removed himself from you, standing to his full height which was imposing even in this environment and then he scooped you up bridal style. It was almost romantic as he threw you against the window for all of the world to see, it was almost beautiful when he ripped your friends dress for the neighbours to enjoy the look of your breasts pressed against the glass. His black leather shoe kicked your feet to separate them.

“Stay there.” He ordered before his shoes grew quieter and quieter. The moments in which you were alone, your body on full show, prepped for him and you knew you were a whore for him, you knew this was going to be your life now. The threat of being killed, the threat of being hurt only turned you on more until you were basically dripping down your thighs. His footsteps became louder and you knew, you just knew, he had a gun in his hand. A different one and you had no idea whether it was loaded or not. The idea made you whine, your abdomen aching for his touch.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He stood back to admire the view of your ass sticking out and the rest of you pressed against the glass. He enjoyed the thought of people watching you becoming undone by his simple touch.

During these times, he rarely removed his suit and today was no different. All he had to do was unzip his pants and his dick was excitedly pointing towards your heat, he lined himself up, a gun against the back of your head unknowing whether it’s loaded or not. He grunted as the tip of him entered your walls, the stretch always shocked you, the thickness was something you had to prepare for but he very rarely allowed the bliss of feeling ready for his cock. A small loan escaped his lips, it was classical, as he entered fully inside of you, allowing himself to fully enjoy the your warmth. You pressed your cheek against the glass, jaw slack as his cock touched every nook and cranny of your cervix; he reached around with his free arm and pressed down on your abdomen as he began to push further inside of you. Whining, you arched your ass towards the ceiling to accommodate his size.

“Look at you.” He snarled, pulling himself out to just the tip to make you beg for it. To make you weak and ache for his cock. And you were. The instant he pulled out almost completely, you felt the cold air and groaned in annoyance, you were empty and all you wanted was to be full of him. You bucked your knees, to try edge his cock in further but he harshly held onto your hips, his thumb digging in so hard you felt the bruise forming. That magical feeling of his breath escaping his mouth as he emerged back inside of you, the relief that settled your heart before he began hammering his hips into you, deeper than you ever felt. The cold glass and the hot feeling of his cock inside of you was such a stunning contradiction, you hoped people could see what this man was making you feel, you squeezed your pussy around him just to hear that musical moan escape his throat again. His tie became undone as he clicked the gun, relishing in you flinching, ducking your head every so slightly but enough for him to notice and laugh.

“You love the threat of being shot, don’t you?” He snapped his hips so deep into you that for a moment you forgot your native language, you forgot the laws of physics as his cock buried itself deep within your womb, readying itself for his lust. You felt the tip of the metal begin trailing your spine as his hips snapped in and out of you, huffing as he brought his fingers towards your clit, circling it in a ferocious manner to bring you quicker to your undoing. Suddenly, he flipped you towards him, he preferred to see your face as you moaned all over his cock, bring your legs to his shoulders so he could grow deeper inside of you. You didn’t even worry about slipping down the window because he had you hard against the glass, there was hardly any space between you and him and the window. His hips came down like a hammer, he wasn’t picking up his pace and instead simply pulled half way out slowly and slammed his hips down, hitting your aching g spot as it threatened let go all over him.

“Please, faster.” You begged, crying almost to let go. His hand clasped around your neck, adding onto his quickening pace. Instead of hammering down onto your quivering body, he began to level up faster, making you cry out in absolute bliss and serenity. His hips slapped quickly onto yours, as he grunted and groaned, hiding them in your neck; he bit down as hard as he could as you let everything go all over him. He knew you had reached your high, but he didn’t stop, instead in one swift movement he picked you up and slammed you into the hard floor. You knew, come daylight, there would be a mark but you would parade it proudly knowing you had become a whore for a man you hardly knew. It was disgusting but somehow it made you hornier as his cock worked you to a pace of his own, something that physics hadn’t yet discovered. The gun was forgotten about, he didn’t want to continue threatening you, instead he wanted you to see stars once again, he wanted to hear your beautiful music as you shrieked over him.

“So good to me.” He grunted. “Your pussy belongs to me, you belong to me.” He wrapped his wrist into the knotted locks of your hair pulling violently that it made your neck completely snap towards the ceiling, making you cry out in pain that was overwhelmed with pleasure. You contracted around him, your toes curling as you unleashed everything onto him; he moaned in delight as he pushed further into you. His large hand grabbed the gun and pointed it at your forehead, you just about saw the barrel, your jaw slack and dumb.

“Look at you, in this pretty dress, getting fucked, being my own personal fuck toy.” He mocked, pounding even harder. You started seeing stars, your eyes rolling back and your throat sore; you let him have his way as you dived into a world of satisfaction, no moans or words could describe this moment between the two of you. “Can you not speak, pretty girl?” He pouted, pulling your hair and rising you roughly so your back was against his chest; your eyes still rolled at the back of your head. His fingers splayed over your exposed throat, your hair sweating as he whispered. “Do you like it when I fuck that tight cunt of yours?” You wanted to scream yes, you wanted the whole world to know that you belonged to him and you loved being used like a useless toy.

“Y-Yes. Yes I do!” You managed to squeak, but he wasn’t happy and clicked the gun in his free hand, making you flinch once again, his hips still bucking at a gods speed. “Yes. I love it when…. When… you fuck me, I love it!” You ended up screaming towards the end, eager to get it out and he chuckled darkly as his movements began falling. Close to his edge, his imprinted himself onto your neck with his mouth and shook with agonising pleasure as he painted your walls. He groaned loudly, pulling out and you simply collapsed onto your hands and knees; a stupid, shaking mess. You managed to look up at him, his eyes were black with pleasure and he smiled sweetly as he saw you curled up by his feet.

“Now tell me, sweet girl, what are you?” He mocked.

“Your bitch.”

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.

[callmeagardengnome]

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | KIM HONGJOONG

pairings ✃ mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis ✃

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong to hijack a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

w.c ✃ 10.5k (yes im a yapper im sorry)

c.w ✃ dark themes, vivid descriptions of gore, guns and knives, kiss scene but no smut, use of the nickname ‘brat’, ‘pretty’ and ONE TIME - ‘princess’, your dad’s a dick oops, vulgar language, reader is smart

author’s note: this is the first oneshot of my mafia series! yes it is long but i promise you that it does eat and that you’ll enjoy it. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

white clouds drifted by the airplane window as the sky turned from a soft blue to a deep orange.

it would’ve been a pretty sight if it weren’t for the gun to your head.

you’d called in sick or put in your two weeks notice earlier if this was how your last day of being a flight attendant would end - but apparently, life hates you too much to let you catch a break.

HOUR 1 OF 7 - TAKEOFF

‘god- i can’t take this anymore,’ you thought to yourself. you hated waiting, despised it actually. 

after today, no more jet lag, rushed goodbyes or missing celebrations. you can finally unpack that suitcase for good, find someplace quiet and actually live in it. the thought alone was enough to keep you excited, but something bothered you at the back of your mind.

this trip didn’t feel right.

it wasn’t the plane itself, but your passengers? only 2 showed up in a plane that could seat at least 50 people. 

not that you were complaining. fewer passengers meant less work - which was a good thing. 

but the uneasiness you felt kept rising in your chest, no matter the times you tried to push it down. 

‘just 6 more hours,’ you thought. ‘then this will all be behind me.’

HOUR 2 OF 7 - MEALTIME

meal service started like any other: boring. 

after handing out the trays, you pushed the trolley back to its place and returned with beverages. you plastered on your most professional smile as you walked over to your passengers. “would you like a drink?”

the man in sunglasses turned to you lazily, his eyes shifting from the trolley to your face. “what do you have?”

you sighed, quietly but deeply. you had that stupid list engraved into your mind by now. “water, coffee, tea, coke, spri-” 

“-do you have alcohol?” he cut you off. 

your eye twitched. this dickhead.

first of all, he interrupted you. and secondly, you didn’t mention the alcohol on purpose. it was stored at the back of the plane and you did not have the energy to drag it out. 

“uh hongjoong- i mean, boss-“ the guy next to him whispered hurriedly. “i don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“-i think it is,” hongjoong interrupted before turning back to you. “where’s the menu?”

you gave him a forced smile as you pushed the alcohol menu towards him. he took his time with it, flipping through the pages slowly before finally saying, “two shots of whiskey.”

“sure thing,” you snatched the menu back. with a swift turn, you fetched the whiskey and the glasses, returning back to his seat.

you poured and placed the two shots on his tray table. he took the glass and drank it in one go, setting it back down with a thud. 

hongjoong then turned his head towards you, eyebrows raised. “what?”

you blinked. ‘what’? just ‘what’? where's the ‘thank you’? 

you were losing your mind.

“nothing,” you muttered through clenched teeth, moving away before he could ask for anything else.

grade A asshole.

HOUR 4.5 OF 7 - POINT OF NO RETURN

the shitty in-flight wifi was a joke as always. why did you even try?

with an annoyed sigh, you shoved your phone into your back pocket when suddenly-

static.

its piercing sound followed by faint garbled voices on the intercom startled you. you frowned as the sound continued, getting louder and more distorted.

with a groan, you stood up, straightening your uniform. ‘what are they doing?’ you thought as you walked towards the cockpit.

but when you passed by the first-class cabin, you paused. the seats were empty. both passengers were gone. ‘weird…’

things only got weirder as you approached the unlocked cockpit door. 

concerned, you pushed it open.

the smell hit you first - a metallic tang that twisted your stomach.

then your eyes caught up.

blood splattered the walls and windows in chaotic streaks, dripping down to the controls and the carpeted floor. the pilot and co-pilot laid in a gruesome pile to the side, the jagged holes in their skulls grotesque. 

a guy sat at the controls, steering the plane as though he wasn’t surrounded by horrors. 

grade A asshole- no, hongjoong, sat cross-legged on the floor, his sunglasses shattered at his feet. a gun rested in his hand and his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you enter.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..” you breathed out. 

pieces of brain and organ matter clung to the control panel as a simple blinking green light above that indicated that everything was, somehow, still functioning.

hongjoong tilted his head, amused. the gun shifted to point at what you now noticed was the crumpled bodies  of your pilots, their faces mangled in unrecognisable masses of flesh and bone.

“these your friends?”

you shook your head as you stepped back, wiping your sweaty hands on your uniform. hongjoong seemed to enjoy your reaction, his grin widening into something sickening. 

he smirked. “don’t worry, i won’t spoil that pretty face of yours.”

you coughed at the wretched smell as the crimson-stained carpet squelched beneath your heels, your mind begging you to leave.

“well-” you said, turning to the door. “i’m sure you don’t need me here, i’ll just-”

an audible click cut you off.

you froze.

slowly, you turned back to see a gun aimed directly at you.

“leaving so soon?” he raised an eyebrow. “let’s talk.”

HOUR 5 OF 7 - SKYDIVING DOESN’T SEEM TOO BAD

hongjoong dragged you to the first-class section to ‘talk’. it was the first time you’ve ever sat there and to be completely honest, this was not how you imagined yourself ‘enjoying’ it.

well, not like it mattered. you had other issues - like handcuffs locking you to the chair.

he stood infront of you, one hand gripping the gun while the other held a file. “‘____’, am i right?” he asked. 

you nodded slowly. “..that’s me.”

“3.6 GPA in university..” he muttered. “flunked out of med school during your first year..”

..how the hell did he get that information?

“you ended up as a flight attendant because your father owns the airline.”

“..yeah,” you reluctantly admitted, your stomach churning. “uh- was the med school part necessary?”

hongjoong ignored you, flipping to the next page. you watched his eyebrows shoot up as his eyes narrowed. “how close are you with your father?”

you blinked, confused by the weird question. “i mean- he’s my dad,” you replied. “but i haven’t seen him in years.”

“hm,” the sound came from him. hongjoong studied you for a moment longer before he spoke again, but this time, his voice was cold.

“do you know what he’s been doing during those years?”

your brows furrowed. “no, i-”

“killing. my. men.”

you didn’t even have time to process his words because he leaned forward when he said them, the gun uncomfortably close to your face. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “...are you sure you have the right person?”

his smirk widened into something eerie. “i have a gun pointed to you, don’t i?”

your pulse quickened. you couldn’t decide which was worse: the possibility that he was telling the truth or the fact that he was clearly enjoying your reaction.

“i always wanted to get back at that pig..” he held the gun up to the bottom of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “and look at how kind the world is- blessing me with his daughter.”

you struggled to breathe, to think. the handcuffs dug into your wrist as you unconsciously tried to break out of them, a clink against the metal arm of the chair.

your voice trembled. “..what do you want from me?”

hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. instead, he leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel your foreheads touching.

“what i want,” he said slowly, eyes locked onto yours. “is for your dad to suffer.”

HOUR 6 OF 7 - SURPRISINGLY ALIVE

the stuffiness of the plane did little to calm your nerves. you sat quietly in the seat, staring at the shattered remains of your phone on the floor.

hongjoong snatched it from your hands a few minutes ago, grumbling about how ‘you don’t need devices’. great. just great. 

the sound of the cockpit door creaking open drew your attention. the other guy - or ‘pilot’, stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “boss.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “what?”

the ‘pilot’ moved closer to hongjoong, lowering his voice. “air traffic control was notified of our path,” he said quietly. “they know something’s off about the plane, but i have no idea how.”

hongjoong’s eyes darkened as he processed the information. then, he glared at you, like he was accusing you.

you scoffed. “you shot my phone, how would i even contact anyone?”

for a moment, the two of you locked eyes and you swear that you could see him debating whether to believe you.

the ‘pilot’ cleared his throat. “what should we expect?” he asked nervously.

hongjoong leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “the police.”

HOUR 7 OF 7 - SHIT IS GETTING REAL

“what the hell…” you whispered to yourself as you peered out of the window.

SWAT teams and federal agents stood in rows, their weapons pointed directly at the plane. flashing lights of red and blue lit up the empty airport. 

you turned away from the window, watching hongjoong pull out a burner phone from his jacket. his fingers typed something out before he suddenly snapped the phone in half, tossing the remains on the floor. 

“…who are you?” you asked quietly.

he raised an eyebrow. “you don’t need to know, pretty.”

your survival instincts told you to move, to do something. but the second you tried to stand, hongjoong shoved you back down. 

“stay seated until we land,” he said before tilting his head. “isn’t that your job?”

you rolled your eyes, gripping the armrests as you tried to calm yourself down and steady your breathing. 

but that was when you heard it - gunshots. 

“they’re shooting us?” you panicked, flinching with each sound. 

no answer.

“hey-“ you tried again, but was cut off by the tires hitting the terrain. 

the landing was rough - harsher than anything you’ve experienced as a flight attendant. the plane rattled like never before.

your chest tightened when it rolled over something particularly large. “what was that?” your voice cracked. 

no answer. 

when the plane finally came to a halt, you barely had time to catch your breath when hongjoong moved. in a blink, he uncuffed you from the chair, only to secure the handcuffs on your wrists once more. 

he brought you to your feet, pulling you so close that you could feel his breath against your ear. “don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed. 

the cockpit door opened and the ‘pilot’ appeared. he quickly unlocked the emergency exit and you saw the makeshift ramp that had been attached to the side of the plane. 

a van rested just outside of it, hongjoong dragging you towards the vehicle. you descended the ramp, the cool air hitting your face as you looked around. 

but that was when you saw it. 

blood. 

on the wheels of the plane, the dark colour leaving a fresh trail on the ground.  

“did you..” you gulped, your voice barely above a whisper. “did you run over them?”

hongjoong glanced at you. “i didn’t,” he shrugged. “the plane did.”

you stopped in your tracks, your feet stuck rooted to the ground as you stared at him in horror. how could he say that like it was no big deal? just who was this man?

“move,” hongjoong ordered. but when you didn’t, he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “god- you’re such a brat.”

before you knew it, you were shoved into the back of the van. the ‘pilot’ closed the door with a loud slam and sat in the driver’s seat while hongjoong took the passenger’s seat up front. 

you met hongjoong’s eyes through the rearview mirror. his glare was sharp, acting as a warning to keep your mouth shut. you didn’t need to be told twice.

the van drove forward and you caught glimpses of city lights in the distance, slowly growing closer. civilisation - maybe you could get help. 

but against your mind’s wishes, you felt your eyelids getting heavy - and you did something that no one should ever do when they’re in a car with armed strangers.

you fell asleep.

HOUR 14 OF 7 - HIP HIP HOORAY YOU’RE NOT DEAD

you heard a voice whine. “why can’t we kill her?” 

“do you want boss to kill us?” you heard another reply.

your eyes fluttered open. your head felt heavy as the room came into focus, your stomach twisting. 

the space was dingy, poorly lit by a bulb hanging from the ceiling and an unnecessarily tall lamp on the ground. the walls were stained and the air stunk of blood.

you tried to move, only to feel tight ropes against your wrists and ankles. you were tied to a chair.

“i can’t believe we have to babysit the pig’s daughter,” a man with a knife groaned.

“calm down, wooyoung,” the other one sighed.

“calm down?!” wooyoung exclaimed. “yeosang got to fly a plane! how is that fair?”

“he has a license,” the second man rolled his eyes. 

“it’s still a plane, jongho-”

“shut up,” jongho interrupted. “the girl’s awake.”

both men turned their heads to look at you, the sudden attention sending a shiver down your spine. wooyoung’s grin stretched across his face as he got to his feet, jongho following behind.

“aw look who’s finally awake,” wooyoung approached, his voice childish. “you slept like a baby- and we didn’t even drug you!”

your heartbeat quickened as he leaned in close, his grin widening as he studied your face.

“i read your file,” he began. “you’re smart…” wooyoung paused, his eyes inspecting you and your ridiculous uniform. “and hot.”

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to respond. “thank you-?”

“-what’s your favourite feature about yourself?” he asked, twirling the knife in his hands.

“uh-” your mind scrambled for an answer as he got nearer, the knife glinting. “i- my eyes?”

“your eyes,” wooyoung repeated, the grin stuck to his face. “good choice.”

he brought the knife closer, the cold steel trailing down the side of your face. you flinched as the blade hovered near your eye, your breath hitching.

“you’re going to answer all our questions,” he stated, almost in a sing-songy way. “and if you dont-”

he tilted the knife, now directly above your eyeball. “-i’ll dig those lovely pearls out of your sockets.”

your chest tightened, terror paralyzing you from head to toe. you couldn’t even breathe, every cell in your body pleading you to stay still.

“hey-” jongho tapped wooyoung on the shoulder, whispering. “uh.. boss said we can’t scratch her..”

“are you serious?” wooyoung scoffed. “then what’s the point?”

jongho bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

wooyoung groaned, throwing the knife to the ground with a strength that made it bend. “fuck this- torture isn’t even fun anymore.”

he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

silence was in the air until jongho cleared his throat awkwardly. he turned to face you. “uh..” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“change of plans.”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DAY DRINKING IS FUN

you never imagined yourself in a hideout, drinking vodka with one of your captors - yet here you were. 

the whole thing felt absurd: a shaky barstool beneath you and a scuffed counter separating you and jongho. he poured you a shot he claimed was ‘very expensive’, before proceeding to chug most of the vodka from the bottle in a long gulp. 

your legs were untied now, though your wrists were still bound, the rope loose enough for your hands to rest infront of you. “what are we waiting for?” you asked. “hongjoong?”

jongho froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “don’t say his name,” he whisper-shouted.

you raised your tied wrists in apology. “okay.. what should i call him?”

“call him boss.. or mr kim.. or anything that isn’t his first name,” jongho said, his words rushed. 

you nodded slowly, looking at the man infront of you with mild concern. he looked even more scared than you did. 

then suddenly, the door slammed open. 

both you and jongho flinched, watching two figures stumble in. 

the first was a tall man - storming into the room. the second was him, hongjoong, clutching his side in pain.

“mingi- boss!” jongho panicked instantly as he ran to help the injured man. “holy- you’re hurt!”

“the pig called for backup,” mingi sighed heavily. 

you blinked, stunned as the sound of hongjoong coughing violently brought your attention back to the injured man. 

blood seeped through his fingers, staining his sleeves and skin. you don’t know what took over you, but you pushed yourself off of the barstool and rushed towards him. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” mingi stepped infront of hongjooong, his hand resting on his gun protectively. 

you glared at him. “do you want your boss to bleed out?”

mingi studied you. after what felt like ages, he exhaled sharply and stepped aside. “fine,” he muttered, keeping a hand on his weapon. 

you knelt next to hongjoong, trying to make him face you as you grabbed his arm. though, he snatched himself away from you quickly. 

you rolled your eyes. “i’m trying to help you. let me see it.”

hongjoong’s eyes pierced your soul. you could see the cogs in his head turning on whether he could trust you. 

a few moments passed before he finally faced you with a sigh, revealing a large gash on the side of his stomach - a wound created by knife. 

“i need water.” 

jongho blinked, clearly thrown off. “what?”

“to clean his wound..?” you explained. “get me water. now.”

jongho hesitated before snatching a bottle of water from a mini fridge. he pushed it to you, the little amount of liquid sloshing inside. “you should stay still for this,” you said before slowly pouring the water over the wound. 

crap- a gash this big needed a stitch. 

“untie me,” you said, holding your wrists up to your captors. 

jongho glanced at his boss worriedly for permission. hongjoong gave a small nod and jongho quickly pulled out a small knife to cut the rope. 

once free, you quickly looked around for something to stitch his wound with. when nothing looked remotely useful, your eyes dropped to your uniform - a skirt with a yarn trim. it wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

you began to unravel the yarn from the hem.

“what are you doing?” mingi asked, frowning.

“stitching him,” you sighed as your fingers worked hurriedly. “or do you want him to get an infection?”

hongjoong let out a groan, shifting uncomfortably. “just hurry.”

you finished unravelling it, but now you needed a needle. your hand instinctively reached up to your hair - pulling out a small bobby pin. it was definitely not as sharp as a needle, but you’re sure that hongjoong can handle his pain.

“shit- i need to sterilise this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“vodka,” jongho said instantly, grabbing the bottle and handing it to you.

you poured the small amount over the pin, letting it drip onto the floor. then, threading the yarn through the makeshift needle, you glanced at hongjoong.

“this will hurt,” you warned.

he looked at you with clenched teeth. “i don’t care.”

you placed a hand on his side to steady him, feeling the tension in his muscles as he tried to not flinch. carefully, you began to stitch the gash, each pull making him wince. 

when the stitching was complete, you tied the yarn and tore it off with your teeth - but the wound was still bleeding slightly.

you glanced down at your sleeves. without hesitation, you tore a strip of fabric free. you used it to dab away the excess blood, then folded the remaining fabric to wrap it around his side. 

“that should work. for now,” you sat back as you wiped your forehead with your arm.

“...you know how to treat people?” hongjoong asked, wincing slightly. 

you nodded slowly. “yeah.. i know the basics.”

“hm,” he tilted his head. “you’re more useful than i thought.”

you blinked. was a good thing or a bad thing?

“wooyoung,” he yelled out. 

a loud crash was heard in another room, followed by the muffled sounds of frantic movements. within seconds, wooyoung appeared in the doorway. 

“yes, boss?” wooyoung said out of breath, brushing off his shirt as he lookedaround the room. 

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. instead, he looked you up and down, his lips twitching into what seemed like a smirk. “get her some actual clothes. we have an event to catch.”

HOUR 17 OF 7 - WORDS TALK BUT GUNS TALK LOUDER

“woah..” your eyes took in the building before you. glittering lights and an impressive exterior that was way more extravagant than anything you imagined hongjoong to be involved in.

he parked the car, the engine coming to a stop. before you could say anything, hongjoong stepped out of the car, closing the door shut. you scrambled to follow him, your heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up.

the two of you approached the man stationed at the door - a bouncer with a pen and clipboard.

without warning, hongjoong’s hand snaked around your waist, pulling you snugly against his side. you flinched at the sudden contact, but with how tight his grip was, there was no room for protests.

“ah, mr kim,” the bouncer greeted. “you made it.”

hongjoong offered a brief, fake smile before dropping it immediately. “let us in.”

“hold on now,” the bouncer said, flipping through the papers on the clipboard. “we can’t let her inside.”

hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “why?”

“new policy,” the man sighed, pretending to sound disappointed. “no more plus-ones.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond. instead, he reached into his blazer, about to pull out a-

“nevermind!” the bouncer’s face turned pale. he stepped aside with a nervous laugh. “you’re all set- enjoy the night.”

the interior was breathtaking - chandeliers hung from high ceilings and round tables were scattered across the venue, draped in pristine white table cloths. 

“don’t eat or drink anything here.”

you blinked, nodding slowly at hongjoong’s words. “okay.. but why-”

“-and if you really want to stay alive,” he interrupted, his lips brushing your ear. “don't leave my sight.”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. “okay,” you mumbled as he brought you further into the room.

he led you to a seating area - though it looked more like a conversation pit, where an old man sat waiting. 

hongjoong released his grip on you to sit across the man, gesturing for you to follow. you hesitated briefly before settling next to him.

“mr kim,” the old man greeted gruffly. his eyes shifted to you, studying your face. “i see you brought someone.”

hongjoong gave a nod, glancing at you. “introduce yourself, brat.”

“oh uh-” you put out your hand reluctantly, forcing a polite smile. “i’m ‘____’.”

the old man’s eyes narrowed before they widened in realisation. “her father-“

“-i’m glad you noticed,” hongjoong cut in. he slowly reached into his blazer again, but this time, he actually pulled out his pistol. 

your eyes widened as he aimed it to your waist, the cold metal brushing your side. “wha-“

“w-what are you doing?” the old man’s face drained of colour, panic flashing in his eyes. 

hongjoong tilted his head. “let’s negotiate.”

“mr kim-“ the old man began, his voice cracking. “as his friend, you do understand that i have to tell him she’s here.”

“do it,” hongjoong shrugged, leaning back. his arm returned to your waist, pulling you to him as he tapped the gun against your side. 

“let’s see if he values his money more than his own daughter.”

HOUR 18 OF 7 - LIFE ISN’T FAIR

a loud crash echoed through the venue, making you jump. the sound of heavy footsteps grew violent with every second.

hongjoong’s hand tightened around your waist as he stood, dragging you up with him. “move.”

“wait-!” the old man called after you, but hongjoong didn’t stop.

his grip on you was firm, the barrel of his gun pressing against your stomach. you tripped over your feet, struggling to keep up his pace.

“where are you taking me?” you panicked as you glanced over your shoulder at the armed men closing in.

“to your father, princess,” he sneered, his voice mockingly sweet. 

“mr kim! stop right there!” 

you froze, whipping your head around. standing at the far end of the room, infront of a small army of armed men, was your father. 

“let go of my daughter,” your father ordered. he pointed a gun directly at hongjoong, his men following suit. 

your eyes glanced around the room - seeing guests cowering against the walls, some injured and others dead.

“i’m not giving up the brat until i get what i want,” hongjoong demanded.

“what you want is an impossible amount of money!” your father yelled, his grip on his gun tightening.

“impossible?” hongjoong’s eyes widened with craze. “you have more than $500 million tied to your name! did you think i’ll forget who you killed to get here?”

your blood ran cold. “dad.. you killed people?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

for a split second, your father’s eyes softened, though that quickly disappeared with a scoff.

“if i didn’t, you wouldn’t have a roof over your head,” your father spat. “you were too stubborn to do anything after you dropped med school.”

the world seemed to tilt, your father’s words more piercing than any bullet. “but i didn’t-”

“-you did,” your father interrupted you. “i spent all that money bribing them just for you to fuck up.”

your heart sank as tears welled in your eyes. hongjoong noticed your reaction, his grip on the gun loosening slightly. 

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t make my hostage cry,” he said. “do you really want those to be your last words to her?”

“shut up,” your father snarled, his finger close to the trigger. “i’ll say what i want. she’s too stupid to argue back anyway.”

the tears you held back spilled over and all you could hear was your dad shouting, “get her!”

HOUR 18.5 OF 7 - THEY WANT YOU SOO BAD

gunshots were heard in every direction, completely deafening. 

the pungent smell of gunpowder burned your nose as you stumbled, your legs barely holding you up. hongjoong shoved you to the ground, his hand against your back. 

“stay down,” he ordered you, raising his gun and firing without hesitation.

you flinched with every shot, watching in horror as armed men fell one by one with his aim. the world felt like it was spinning too fast and you could barely keep up.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm.

“stop moving!” your father yelled, his grip painful as he dragged you towards the exit.

“no!” you choked out, your heels digging into the floor in an attempt to resist. panic ran through your veins as your eyes darted around desperately.

your eyes landed on a fallen gun near your feet. you quickly snatched it, hands trembling as you tried to point it towards him.

“don’t make me do this!” you cried.

your father didn’t stop and without thinking-

-you pulled the trigger.

a bang was heard, followed by his rough scream as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh.

“oh my god,” you whispered, the gun slipping from your hands as tears flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks. you sank to the floor, staring at the blood pouring out of him.

“you bitch!” he shouted in pain.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught hongjoong watching you, something strange flashing across his face. was that.. surprise? pride? maybe he was impressed?

hongjoong fired a shot at an armed man without looking, moving to you quickly. 

“didn’t think you had it in you, pretty,” he looked over his shoulder. “but we need to leave.”

he led you to a small janitor’s closet near the exit. the narrow space smelled of bleach, but at least it was quiet.

hongjoong shut the door behind you and dusted off his blazer. without a word, his dark eyes inspected you, checking your shoulders and arms.

you stood motionless, too shocked to stop him as he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb wiping away the mascara-stained tears from your cheeks.

“nothing broken,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “no scars either..”

he pulled out a burner phone, typing something quickly.

“i- i just shot my dad,” your shoulders shook as new tears welled up in your eyes.

hongjoong glanced up from the phone, meeting your eyes. “..are you bragging?” he asked bluntly.

“what? he’s my dad-”

“-and he’s a dick,” hongjoong cut you off. “you might share blood, but that man clearly hates you.”

you hiccuped, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “...am i going to hell?”

hongjoong scoffed. “come on-“ he began, but stopped himself when he looked at you and the tears spilling from your eyes. “you didn’t kill him… you’re fine.” 

you opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you as he continued typing. “and even if you did,” he added. “you’re doing the world a favour.”

he smashed the burner phone onto the ground, discarding the pieces. he reloaded his pistol before turning back to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he led you through bodies and debris.

outside, a black van waited by the curb. hongjoong pushed you inside before climbing in after you, slamming the door shut behind him.

“drive,” he ordered.

as the street lights went past you, you slumped in your seat, completely exhausted. “where are we going?” you asked softly.

hongjoong studied you for a moment, watching your eyelids go heavy. “...go to sleep, brat.”

DAY 2 - OH HONEY I'M HOME

you woke up with a jolt. you sat up from the couch you laid down on, completely disoriented. your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. the hideout. 

relief and fear spread within you. you were safe - for now.

just then, a knock from the doorway made you jump. “didn’t mean to scare you,” a man said, leaning against the frame. “boss wanted me to check on you.”

you blinked. “i- okay,” you coughed to clear your throat, wincing at how dry it felt.

“i’ll let him know you’re awake.”

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone once more.

though that didn’t last long. moments later, hongjoong entered. he carried a stool over, setting it down across from you before sitting. 

“how long did i sleep?” you asked hoarsely.

“a day,” he replied with a shrug.

your eyes widened. it was only then you noticed your attire - a baggy t-shirt replacing the outfit you were wearing before.

“who changed me?” you blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks.

“i did,” hongjoong answered. he noticed your flustered expression, tilting his head. “what?”

“did you-” you cleared your throat. “did you see anything?”

“i’m not a pervert,” he scoffed. “if it makes you feel better, you were changed in the dark.”

you fell into an awkward, heavy silence as you sat across each other. for the first time, there was no danger, no gunfire or anyone yelling out orders. just silence.

“your dad..” hongjoong began, speaking up. “wants you dead.”

“...what?”

he held up a cassette tape, tossing it onto the table between you, your hands trembling as you picked it up. hongjoong then brought out a cassette tape player, allowing you to hear your father’s voice.

‘mr kim, we’ve had our ups and downs, but i’m sure that we can agree on one thing - that bitch who shot my thigh is a liability. an idiot that made it this far because of me. she’s no longer my responsibility or family, so expect to find her head on a stick when you turn your back. have fun.’

“what the fuck..” you whispered shakily as it came to an end. 

“to be honest, your only purpose was to be a hostage.” hongjoong’s fingers drummed the edge of the stool. “and now that he doesn’t want you.. you’re useless-”

the world around you crumbled, his words making you feel worse. 

“-to him.”

your eyes widened, looking at him in confusion.

“you’re smart,” he shrugged. “and you stitched me.”

you blinked. “…where are you going with this?” 

“i want you to be an addition to my team,” he replied.

“do i have to kill people?” you blurted out. “or steal, or-”

“no,” hongjoong raised a hand to cut you off. “all you’ll be doing is treating my injured men. quite the opposite of killing.”

you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you trust me with that?”

“because,” he said, leaning forward. “you have nowhere else to go.”

“that’s not true-”

“really?” hongjoong smirked. “do you know how many businesses your dad owns?”

you shook your head.

“more than 80% in the country,” his eyes sparkled with something dark. “now that you’ve shot him, you’ve burnt every bridge he’s built for you.”

your jaw dropped. “but-”

“no job, no family, nowhere to live either since he owns most of the real estate here.”

you stared at him, struggling to process his words.

“here’s my offer,” hongjoong continued. “you get a decent amount of money, a place to live and protection...”

“...just to treat people?” you asked in disbelief.

he nodded. 

you bit your lip, staring at the floor as you picked at your nails. how could your dad do this to you? abandoning you just like that? and now he wanted you dead? you could feel yourself getting angry just thinking about him.

after a long moment, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “deal.” 

MONTH 1 - FAMILY BONDING 

that evening, you sat on the floor with san, wooyoung and yeosang, eating a batch of cheap instant noodles. it was a little awkward - mostly because you just joined, but you were silently appreciating their efforts to make small talk with you. 

suddenly, a loud bang was heard through the hideout. the three men jumped up immediately, pulling guns and knives from who knows where. 

“back entrance?” wooyoung asked as he sharpened his knives. 

your heart raced as you watched the three of them shift into combat mode - and you caught yourself lagging behind. you hurriedly stood up and grabbed the medical kit you kept close. 

“stay here,” san said firmly. 

you shook your head. “if someone’s injured, i’m coming.”

the three of them shared a look before yeosang gave you a reluctant nod. “…just stay behind us. we’ll get in trouble if you get hurt.”

they moved swiftly and silently through the narrow halls of the hideout, weapons in hand. you trailed closely, your heart pounding as you gripped the medical kit tightly. 

when you reached the back entrance, san motioned you to stay back while they checked the door. 

the signs of forced entry were obvious - the lock was broken and scuff marks lined the floor. 

wooyoung scoffed, speaking under his breath. “stupid piglets.”

yeosang sighed. “looks like they took a few weapons and left.”

“are they testing us?” san asked, inspecting a footprint on the ground. 

before anyone could respond, the door slammed open making all of you jump. you turned to see mingi, his chest heaving as he leaned against the door frame. 

“meeting. now.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the hideout’s ‘meeting room’ was more of a cramped closet with mismatched chairs and a comically large table in the middle. hongjoong paced at the end of the room, his jaw clenched. 

“we can’t stay here any longer,” he began. “it’s only a matter of time before they come back in full force.”

hongjoong stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “we need to move back to our old apartments. they’re scattered enough to keep us hidden until we figure out our next move.”

you shifted uncomfortably. 

hongjoong noticed this. “what?” he asked, his sharp eyes landing on you. 

“i uh-“ you hesitated. “i don’t have a home..” you said sheepishly. 

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. 

“my dad owns the house,” you admitted. “and that’s not really an option anymore.”

“right,” hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “shit..”

“alright, who has space?” he clapped, glancing around the room. 

everyone exchanged uneasy looks. 

“we don’t,” yeosang said, gesturing to himself, san, wooyoung and jongho. “the four of us are already crammed into one place.”

“same here,” yunho spoke up. “mingi and i barely fit in ours.”

hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his face hopeful. 

“no,” seonghwa said without hesitation. 

a heavy sigh escaped hongjoong as he pinched the bridge of his nose. he leaned against the table, deep in thought. 

minutes stretched into what felt like hours before hongjoong finally spoke up. “you’re coming with me,” he said, looking directly at you. 

your eyes widened in surprise. “..what?”

“you’re staying at my place.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the car sped down the (somewhat) empty highway, the faint smell of vanilla from the air freshener mixing with the lingering scent of old fast food. 

you gripped the edge of your seat as the streetlights ran by the window in a blur. “are we in a rush?” you nervously glanced at hongjoong. 

“no,” he replied flatly. 

there was a black car beside you that had been keeping pace for the past few minutes - and just as you shifted in your seat, it suddenly swerved infront of your car and slammed the brakes. 

“what the-” you barely managed to say before the impact. the car jolted violently as it hit the one ahead, the sound of metal crunching loud. 

hongjoong let out a low string of curses under his breath. his face was weirdly calm as he unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping out of the car without a word. 

“wait-” you scrambled to undo your own seatbelt. 

from your seat, you saw him approaching the car. the moment he glanced inside, his eyes widened. he reached for his gun and pulled the trigger instantly. 

the loud gunshot made you flinch and your stomach twisted as you saw the slumped figure in the driver’s seat, blood splattered across the windshield. 

your heart pounded as you stumbled out of the car, rushing towards him. “why did you do that?!”

hongjoong turned to you, his jaw clenched. “it was a piglet.”

“wha-“ your eyes drifted to the body, a shiver going down your spine as you saw the bullet hole clean through the skull. 

hongjoong, completely unfazed, went back to the car. you stared at the lifeless body for a moment longer before hurriedly following him. 

once you were back inside, you swallowed the lump in your throat, attempting to break the suffocating silence. “….how did you know he was a piglet?”

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. his fingers flexed against the steering wheel as he glanced at you. 

“they have a bullet tattoo..” he said finally, pulling down his collar to point to his collarbone. “..right here.”

you blinked. “oh.”

“if you ever come across one,” he continued. “kill them on sight.”

your eyes widened, your throat tightening. “what about the police?”

he fell silent for a second, his eyes fixed on the road. then, a faint smirk crossed his face. “you don’t need to worry about them.”

his answer left you unsettled, but before you could question him further, the apartment building came into view. it was modern - standing tall with the city skyline. 

hongjoong smoothly pulled into the parking lot. the abruptness of the stop sent you forward, but his hand shot out instinctively, pressing against you to keep you steady. 

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice soft - though he didn’t look at you as he retracted his arm. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

some might describe hongjoong’s apartment as ‘minimalistic’, but to you, it’s just an excuse for a grown man to avoid decorating. 

the walls were devoid of any art or family photos, the kitchen was spotless - though it was definitely untouched with how there was almost no food in the fridge. and from what you saw, the only source of entertainment was a lone TV. 

“do you..” you began, looking around the bare space. “do you even live here?”

hongjoong ignored your comment and walked towards the big couch and began to pull it into a makeshift bed. the springs creaked slightly as he unfolded it. “this is where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, dusting himself off. 

“cool.”

“don’t complain-“ he stopped himself mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes when he realised what you said. “wait, you’re okay with this?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

“hm,” he said, slightly surprised. he looked you up and down before turning to the long hallway. “get some rest, we’re getting you a phone tomorrow.”

MONTH 2 - LIVE LAUGH LOVE GUNS

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before the piglets attacked you again. 

hongjoong sent you on a simple supply run - nothing unusual. but as you stood in the small pharmacy, you felt the air shift when the cashier’s demeanour turned cold. 

it all happened so fast. 

the moment you saw the gun aimed at your chest, your eyes fell to the faint outline of a bullet tattoo peeking out from his collarbone. great. 

your breath hitched as your body moved on impulse. you barely avoided the first shot as you ducked behind the display rack. 

the pharmacy was strangely empty, no one else to intervene. your heart pounded as the sounds of footsteps and gunshots echoed. 

fumbling with your phone, you dialed every number you could think of. yet, no one answered. 

your hands trembled as you typed hongjoong’s number, your last resort. 

he picked up after one ring. 

“this better be important, brat,” he grumbled, groggy like he just woke up. 

“i need help-” you semi-yelled as you narrowly dodged another shot, darting behind the counter. “i’m getting attacked-”

“-send your location,” hongjoong interrupted. “i’m on my way.”

the line went dead before you could respond. 

you sent your location and shoved the phone back into your pocket. the cashier reloaded the gun, his footsteps growing louder. and just as you moved, he charged. 

he grabbed you, trying to pin you down. you barely managed to fight back, until you made an educated attack - kicking him in the groin. 

he groaned, stumbling back. you took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his hands. 

you pointed it at him, your hands shaking. “stay back,” your voice cracked. 

the man scoffed. “over my dead body,” he lunged at you again. 

your finger moved instinctively, pulling the trigger. 

once. 

twice. 

again and again and again. 

the sound of gunfire rang in your ears, the recoil sending waves through your arms. you didn’t stop until you heard a clicking noise that meant that the gun was empty. 

when you opened your eyes, he was no longer standing. 

you looked down, the cashier laying sprawled on the ground, the concrete dark with blood. bullet holes littered his body, evidence of your frantic shots. 

you dropped to your knees, your chest heaving. you reached out to check his pulse. nothing.

you just took someone’s life. 

your eyes fell to your hands, bloody and shaking. from young, you always wanted to save lives - not take them. tears fell from your eyes, blurring your vision. 

the door slammed open. 

hongjoong stood in the doorway. he took in the body on the floor and your frozen form in a single glance. he sighed, stepping in. 

“come on, let’s go,” he crouched to grab your arm. 

you couldn’t move, your eyes fixed on the lifeless body. 

“hey,” his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to meet his. his eyes were intense, his touch warm against your cold skin. “we need to leave before more show up. you don’t want to kill anyone else, do you?”

you shook your head quickly. 

he pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arm around yours as he guided you to his car. the ride back was silent as you stared out of the window. 

and before you knew it, you were back at his apartment. 

you hesitated at the door, unable to bring yourself to step inside. 

hongjoong sighed, grabbing your wrist as he tugged you in. he tossed his gun and his keys in the kitchen counter before turning to you. 

“go take a long shower. i’ll be in the living room.”

you nodded, moving to the bathroom in a daze. 

the water was scalding as it hit your skin. no amount of soap or scrubbing would ever make you feel clean from the bloodied-stains. every part of your body felt foreign - even your puffy eyes and lips.

once you were done, you dressed in the softest clothes you had, hoping that it would provide you with some form of comfort (it didn’t).

the pull-out couch was prepared with brand-new pillows and fluffy blankets when you returned to the living room. hongjoong sat on the edge, gesturing for you to sit. you sank down beside him. 

the silence stretched on until it became unbearable. 

you spoke up, your voice barely audible. “…i killed someone.”

“you did,” he nodded. “good job.”

your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “i killed someone.”

“and so have i,” hongjoong leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “does that bother you?”

“i…”

he leaned back. “it should. the first time always does.”

“i don’t think i can do this,” you breathed out shakily. “i don’t want to hurt people..”

the two of you locked eyes for what felt like ages. you could see hongjoong’s adam's apple bob up and down, his jaw tightening slightly. “no one wants to hurt people,” he replied softly. 

you blinked. 

“i shouldn’t have sent you out alone, especially with your dad targeting you,” he sighed. “that’s on me.”

“but-”

“-though i do have to say, this made me realise how.. unprepared you are,” he continued.

your eyebrows furrowed. 

“if you want to survive, you need to know how to defend yourself,” he drummed his fingers against the couch. “...you’re off supply runs. from now on, you’re training with the others.”

you stared at him. “what?”

“the rest have some ‘schedule’ for training. i’m sure you can join without any problems.”

you hesitated. the thought of the blood, the body, the gun in your hands made you nauseous. the idea of training scared you. 

he noticed this, his eyes softening slightly. “you won’t be a killer, just someone capable of self-defense.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. finally, you nodded, your voice small. “okay.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING!

the casino was glitzy and loud with copyright-free music, its neon lights casting eerie shadows on the dark streets outside. 

“you three, cover left. you two, check the vault. the rest of you will stay near the exit,” hongjoong ordered.

you waited for your assignment, expecting to be grouped with someone. instead, hongjoong said, “you’re with me.”

you sighed. “alright.”

you followed hongjoong to the right side of the casino, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. he moved silently, keeping his gun concealed but ready. you tried to mimic his focus, clutching the knife wooyoung lent you earlier.

the first sign of trouble came when the alarms blared.

armed men swarmed into the casino. piglets.

hongjoong moved first, taking them down in a single shot. you ducked behind a pillar, your heart pounding.

the fight moved fast. hongjoong was precise - he wasn’t even touchable, killing the men easily.

but that was when you saw it before he did: a piglet creeping up behind him, raising and aiming the gun to his head.

“boss!”

without hesitation, you hurled wooyoung’s knife to the piglet.

the knife pierced and plunged into his neck, causing the man to fall, his gun clattering to the ground. 

hongjoong whipped his head around with wide eyes, shooting the man infront of him before spinning to kill the piglet you just hit.

the silence that followed was deafening.

hongjoong’s breathing was heavy as he lowered his weapon. he dusted his clothes off, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

he gulped, finally speaking up. “...good job, pretty.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

slowly, everyone regrouped in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely bloody and dented knife - basically ruined.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“i didn’t know you were actually gonna use it,” wooyoung complained. “i thought you would just watch.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung leaned in closer - his voice annoyingly sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t bend in your delicate fucking hands.”

“shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

his chest tightened in a now-familiar way: you’re fitting in too well.

it wasn’t jealousy - at least, that’s what he told himself. it was about control. your presence was a distraction he didn’t account for. but the others took you in so easily, which was technically a good thing, right?

and yet...

why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

hongjoong blinked, realising how his leg was bouncing restlessly. he forced himself to stop, sighing deeply.

“you good, boss?” yunho asked.

hongjoong paused. “...i’m fine.”

yunho raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, turning away.

hongjoong’s eyes returned to you. you were leaning a little too close to yeosang now, laughing at some joke wooyoung said - sending a strange pang through his chest.

why did this bother him so much?

you weren’t doing anything wrong. you were building trust, meshing with the group - just like he expected.

but this wasn’t about the group, was it?

he frowned, thinking. you stitched him right after he kidnapped you, you saved him from getting shot even though you were definitely not ready to fight.

what has he ever done for you?

introduced you to a world of crime? to a world of killing, stealing and hatred? accidentally ruined the relationship between you and your dad?

hongjoong closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

shit.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

without bothering to change, you sank into the pull-out couch - exhaustion pulling you to it like gravity.

you heard hongjoong locking the door behind him, the soft click sounding loud in the quiet apartment. his footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing reaching your ears. you were way too tired to look.

you didn’t realise you drifted off until you were awoken by something heavy on your body.

your eyes fluttered open groggily. for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. hongjoong was in the middle of draping a large blanket on you.

“what are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

his eyes darted to yours briefly. “nothing.”

you frowned, shifting to sit up - but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently back down. “sleep.”

you let out a quiet sigh. “shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you muttered.

he paused, his jaw tensing. “....tomorrow onwards, you’re training with me.”

you stared at him, stunned. before you could even say anything, he turned and walked away without a word.

…did your boss just tucked you in?

MONTH 3.5 -  PUNCH, KICK, SNARE

“again,” hongjoong said, slightly out of breath. 

the living room felt smaller than usual with the two of you moving around. the coffee table and couch was pushed aside, leaving just enough space to practice your punches without tripping over the furniture. he claimed training here would teach you how to ‘fight in tight quarters’.

he sighed. “your moves are sloppy.”

you groaned, shaking your aching wrists. “i’m trying.”

“that’s not enough when someone’s aiming a gun at your head,” he replied, stepping back and raising hands. “your punches are too weak and your balance is all over the place. reset your stance.”

you rolled your eyes but obeyed, repositioning your feet. it wasn’t the first time you’ve heard those words from him.

hongjoong moved closer, tapping your wrist. “keep your guard up. always.”

you threw another punch, but it barely made his hands move. he lowered them, sighing. “that’s not going to hurt anyone-“

“-i’m doing my best, okay?” you snapped. “i’m not a fast learner.”

his eyes softened for a moment before narrowing again. “that’s not an excuse when your life is on the line.”

you tsked. he was right of course, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“again.”

you tried once more, throwing a combination of punches that he blocked with ease. when you attempted a kick, you stumbled, nearly losing your footing.

he caught you instinctively, his hands steadying you.

“watch your balance,” he said automatically, going on a tangent on how training is important and blahblahblah. 

you tried to focus on your surroundings, on the words he was saying, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you. the smell of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of sweat in the room. his touch wasn’t rough or aggressive like you’d expect - it was gentle.

your eyes drifted to his face, catching the faint scars along his cheekbones and jawline. were those always there? or was this the first time you really noticed?

his brows furrowed, likely in frustration at your lack of response, but the concern in his eyes snapped you back into reality, making you realise that you were staring the whole time.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for this,” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

hongjoong paused, his lips parting slightly - he wasn’t  expecting you to say that. for a moment, he was silent. he then leaned in, his eyes piercing. 

“you don’t get to quit.”

the intensity of his voice made you forget about the aches in your muscles and the sweat dripping down your back. his words weren’t angry - they were commanding. 

“why do you even care?” you whispered, barely audible.

his grip on your arms loosened slightly, his eyes searching yours for what felt like eternity. then out of nowhere, he stepped back, clearing his throat as he avoided your gaze. “take five,” he mumbled, walking to the kitchen.

MONTH 5 - BLOOD, BLOOD AND MORE BLOOD

the office building looked ordinary. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was just another corporate HQ. but you knew better.

and so did hongjoong.

you held up the new knife wooyoung gave you, one that wasn’t as pretty as the last. it was finally the day you ambushed your dad, the man that’s been wanting you dead for months.

you looked up to face hongjoong. “i don’t want to see it,” you said suddenly.

he raised an eyebrow. “see what?”

“when you kill him. my dad,” you clarified, your throat tightening. “i’m.. okay with it, but i don’t want to see it.”

his eyes studied you. after a moment, he nodded. “make sure to stay close to me,” he said before turning to the building.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the group slipped into the building through the side. hongjoong led the way, gripping his pistol tightly as you stayed close behind him.

“elevators are too risky,” hongjoong looked back at the group. “we’ll take the stairs.”

the group nodded, their weapons drawn as they moved quietly through the halls. the fluorescent lights did nothing to mask the sinister aura that was buried in the walls.

when you reached the stairwell, the sound of footsteps echoing above sent everyone into high alert.

the first shot rang out.

gunfire filled the stairwell. the air was thick with smoke and gunfire. you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to avoid all of the attacks happening around you. you tried to go in to fight but-

-someone grabbed you.

you struggled, twisting out of their grasp. but before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you away. “stay still.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the stench forced your eyes open - a horrid mix of stale cigar smoke and alcohol. the office was dimly lit and your father crouched infront of you, his face smug as he cornered you.

“you think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he sneered.

you glared at him, your heart pounding. “fuck off.”

a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “you’ve gotten worse since you joined that boy,” he spat. “should i cut off your tongue? unhinge your jaw? or maybe i’ll be basic and shoot you.”

“you’re insane,” your stomach twisted. “it’s hard to believe we’re related, especially with how ugly you are.”

“you-”

before he could finish, you jammed wooyoung’s knife into his other thigh, dragging it down to create a large gash. he let out a guttural scream, stumbling into a desk as his pants turned a dark red.

you moved quickly, scrambling out of the corner, but two piglets grabbed you before you could get far.

“stupid bitch,” your father hissed, forcing himself up as he took out the knife in his thigh, looking directly at you. “you’re going to regret that.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

as hongjoong shot another piglet with his pistol, he looked around the haze, searching for a certain someone. “where’s ‘____’?” he asked.

the group stayed silent.

“shit- we don’t know,” wooyoung said nervously.

hongjoong’s face darkened - and without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby piglet by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “where’s your boss?” he snarled.

the piglet squirmed. “i- i have a family!”

hongjoong’s grip on his collar tightened, his eyes widening scarily. “then bring me to him.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“your mother should’ve gotten the abortion,” your father said before settling down infront of you, the bloody knife close to your face. “then my money wouldn’t be wasted on cunts like you.”

“i’m surprised that you got a woman like her to fuck you,” you breathed out shakily as the blade hit your skin. 

“i guess you inherited her bitchiness.”

the door burst open as the knife grazed your skin. hongjoong stepped in, his gun raised. “let go of her,” he ordered.

the piglets hesitated, glancing between your father and hongjoong. your father’s hand didn’t move, a scar forming on your face. 

“you want her that badly?” your father asked mockingly. “you’re becoming soft.”

hongjoong didn’t answer. instead, he moved faster than you thought was possible, shooting the two piglets that held you with ease.

the bodies hit the ground - causing your father to shove you harshly against the wall. pain shot through your body as you heard something crack.

hongjoong froze, his pistol trained on your dad. 

“stay back,” your father warned, hovering the blade near your temple.

hongjoong’s jaw clenched. he dropped his gun slightly, making your father relax.

but then hongjoong lunged.

the fight was brutal, all punches and grunts. you slumped against the wall, your cheek bleeding uncontrollably as every part of your body ached.

after what felt like ages, hongjoong finally gained the upper hand, pinning your dad down as he pointed the gun to his head. but then his eyes landed on yours, wide and terrified - making him freeze.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath, lowering the gun. he turned and rushed to you, pulling you into his arms.

your father tried to crawl away, but hongjoong didn’t let him go far. with you in his embrace, he covered your eyes and ears tightly as the sound of a singular gunshot echoed in the room.

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. his hand cradled the back of your head, his touch soft. “it’s over,” he whispered as you sobbed.

you shook your head against his chest, the salt in your tears stinging the cut on your cheek. “i almost died.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but i wouldn’t let that happen.”

his words settled over you like a warm blanket. you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face. you could feel the heat of his body as he kept you close.

hongjoong shifted, his hands moving to your shoulders as he looked at you carefully. his thumb brushed over your scar, wiping away the trail of blood on your face.

“you’re shaking,” his eyebrows furrowed. “you need to breathe.”

“i’m trying.”

he reached for a nearby chair and pulled it over, guiding you to sit. hongjoong crouched infront of you, your hands trembling in his.

“you’re safe,” his eyes locked onto yours. “i’ve got you.”

something inside you cracked at his words - and tears spilled once more. hongjoong didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. he stayed crouched infront of you, letting you take all the time you needed.

when you finally looked up, there was something unspoken in his eyes - a mix of guilt and relief that made your heart ache. “...thank you,” you whispered.

his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. instead, he nodded slowly, his grip on your hands tightening for a moment before letting go.

at that moment, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. your lips brushed against his, just enough to make his entire body stiffen.

for a second, you thought you made a mistake. his hands paused midair and his breathing hitched.

but then, he moved. to you. 

his hands cupped your face gently, pulling you closer into a kiss. it was slow at first, but when you gripped his shirt tightly - the feelings he’d been keeping were let loose.

his lips pressed against yours with urgency. his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he let go. 

you responded instinctively. your hands found his neck, his jaw - brushing over them softly in a way that made him groan. “fuck- you’re so pretty.”

the world around you spun in swirls of blood, smoke and cologne, overwhelming you in a way that made you lose your breath.

hongjoong broke away for a moment, panting slightly. his lips curled into a smirk, before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense. it was grounding, reassuring and impossibly warm.

when the two of you pulled back, his thumb traced your scar. “this..” he began quietly. “..this isn’t what i expected tonight.”

you let out a soft, shaky laugh. “me neither.”

he pecked your forehead as he stood up, his legs slightly wobbly from the kiss. hongjoong held out a hand, helping you to your feet. “...let’s go home.”

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BONUS SCENE - MINE

the apartment was quiet as you laid on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t coming - your mind was too busy replacing the events earlier.

the memory of hongjoong’s arms around you stayed, along with the feeling of his lips on yours. how could a man as dangerous as him bring you such comfort?

a soft knock against the wall broke the silence.

you sat up slowly, seeing hongjoong standing in the hallway. his hair was slightly damp and he wore a loose black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. he hesitated before walking to you, his movements weirdly awkward.

“...you okay?” you asked the nervous man.

he shrugged, trying to play it off as he sat next to you. “i’m fine. you?”

“i’ve been better.”

there was a pause as the two of you stared at each other, the silence heavy. finally, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“i’ve been thinking..” hongjoong trailed off.

“uh-oh.”

“i-it’s not a bad thing-” he said hurriedly. “it’s just that.. tonight made me think about a lot of things.”

you tilted your head, confused.

his voice softened as he continued. “but this isn’t just about tonight. it’s about.. everything. i don’t want you to feel.. unsafe all the time.”

“i don’t,” you said instantly, but you’re not sure how much you believed yourself.

he leaned back slightly, reaching into his hoodie pocket. when his hand reappeared, it was holding a pistol - his pistol, sleek and black.

“take this,” he held it out to you.

you blinked, staring at the weapon. “what? why?”

“because it’s mine,” he replied simply leaving no room for argument. “and now, it’s ours.”

you hesitated, your hand hovering over the gun. “i.. i barely know how to use this.”

“then i’ll teach you.”

you looked up at him, searching his face for answers. “...why are you giving this to me?”

you noticed the way his eyes darted down as you looked at him, his fingers tightening around the pistol as he pushed it to you. 

“because,” hongjoong began quietly. “i trust you.”

your fingers paused before finally closing around the gun. the cold metal felt deadly in your grasp, but the way his eyes lit up made your heart swell.

“you trust me..?” you asked softly, a faint smile on your face. “hongjoong..”

his usual composure faltered as you said his name, a blush dusting his face. he swallowed the lump in his throat, gathering himself. “you’re not just a part of the group,” he said. “you’re more than that. to me.”

your eyebrows shot up, completely stunned. “...i don’t know what to say.”

“say yes.”

you blinked. “yes to what?”

“to being mine,” hongjoong’s hands fidgeted slightly.

your heart raced as you heard his words. a wide smile spread across your face as you realised what he was really asking.

“are you..” you paused. “are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

his breath got caught in his throat as he nodded. “yeah.”

the man that was the literal leader of an entire gang, was sitting nervous infront of you. it was a funny sight to see, but you brought yourself back to reality, answering his question.

“yes.”

a wave of relief washed over his face as he let out the breath he seemed to be holding. he reached out, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he leaned closer. “wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”

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other fics

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch. 

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 7- the true princess of Wayne Manor

Short chapter*

_____________________________

"(Name)... I noticed something from you" Dick says "When you try something new, you stop pursuing it if you're not immediately good at it"

A reincarnated and two vigilantes go rock climbing, sounds like the start of an awful joke huh?

After the continued event of you encountering the villains and school shooters, they decided to teach you some stuff, Karate, Muay Thai, Taekwondo, jujitsu, painting, swimming, Camping, Ziplining, trying the scary roller coaster rides-

Huh?

This is slowly starting to feel like family outings

You jump further up "What do you mean?", He looks up at you "I mean... When we went swimming and Damian dived you wanted to try it out too, but when you realized you couldn't do it you just stopped, but when we tried archery and you could do it, you wanted to stay there longer"

"I just don't want to keep on trying on a lost cause, I hate feeling helpless and disappointed" you say, as you three reached the top, you rest for a bit and Jason hands you a bottle of water "what kind of helpless?" He asked

"When mom was sick, we had one problem, and it was money, I thought to myself that it'll be okay since I know how to make money, just give me a couple of months and we'll have what we need, turns out we didn't have a couple of months, I worked really hard and I was just disappointed that I couldn't save her, there I promised myself I wouldn't try on a lost cause" you drank the whole bottle and even burped after"Excuse me"

"I mean" you stated "Why didn't you think I never even tried to get along with you guys, first meeting Damian calls me an 'it', who'd expect family after that" you laugh

Nevermind the fact that you know you're in a world where they're not supposed to love you

After losing your family the first time, and your mom the second time, knowing you'll have no one after that was depressing, you wanted to at least defy the system, you told yourself that if you tried to get along with them, maybe they'll accept you

The system quickly shut that thought down by telling you that "In any of the fics you've read, were any of the readers successful?"

Basically telling you that if in the fiction you've read no main character succeeded, you trying to gain their love would do nothing, you'd just set yourself up for failure

Reader... I'm sorry but you are on the verge of failing, at this rate, you won't get the special reward...

You look up at the screen in curiosity, their hatred meter was on 2%, but the past few days that the new vigilante Protagonist has been fighting with the bat family, it went up again to 15%, and whenever they spend time with you it goes down again, when they spend time with protagonist it goes up again, you honestly have no idea what's going on

Bruce's hatred meter is already in the negatives, if all of them go to the negatives you've failed

Dick hugs you "Let's go shopping" he smiles

____________________________

And you find yourself at the mall, you find some books you think you'll like and Jason pays for you, you find some clothes you think you'll like and Dick pays for you

They both drag you to a dress store, and to be honest you feel like you're forgetting something really important

You open your phone to find no messages, not from your friends or anyone

They settle you with a black dress you like, of course they'd pick something in their color, and you ride the taxi home

The Manor is eerie and quiet, Alfred isn't there to greet your return and frankly you're worried, he's always there to greet us, did something happen?

The Joker attacked? But you didn't see any bat patrolling? And why would Dick and Jason be with you?

You open the doors of the manor and-

"Happy birthday (Name)!" They yell, there you see Alfred, your friends, children from the orphanage you visit, the children you tutor, and some paparazzi, some rich looking people you don't know, and holy fuck- is that the justice league in civilian form!?!? oh and also your family is here

Right.

It's your 16th birthday...

And this... Is your first official Wayne Gala

You totally forgot.

You rarely celebrate your birthday... Because sometimes, the system tells you to celebrate it alone, sometimes it doesn't, you only remember your birthday when the system makes a mission surrounding it

Shit.

You can't get out of this one

Bruce smiles at you and he takes your hand the music starts

Another shit.

Is this a father-daughter dance?

It is.

Everyone is eager to see it, the paparazzi has cameras pointed at the both of you, your friends are smiling enjoying the party, and the kids are laughing

"(Name) Looks like a princess!" A kid says

You laugh uncomfortably "I don't know how to dance" you whisper to your father (that's a lie, you're amazing), he then places your feet to step on his "that's fine" he says

Then you he dances, his feet guide yours and it becomes this adorable moment where dad doesn't mind that his daughter doesn't know how to dance and is just happy that your in his arms

You are screaming on the inside.

How could you forget about something like this!?!?

You see his hatred meter drop even more, then you see the others, from 15% it goes to 10% then 5% then-

The dance finishes, the crowd claps and cheers, the dance showing you and your father's closeness...

Then a girl speaks "Excuse me?" She says, Everyone's attention is on her and she smiles, she runs to your father "I'm so happy to finally meet you!" She holds his hands pushing you away

Bruce pulls away from her "What are you doing!?" He glared

She looked flustered but smiled either way, she pulled out some documents and gave it to Bruce

"I thought it would be the right moment to tell you since everyone is here... I'm your long lost daughter Viviana!"

_____________________________

EHEHEHEHEHHEHE MANHWA READERS YALL PROLLY KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING

____________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator

[heavyhitterheaux]

Mo' Money Mo' Problems

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Asking for help has always been hard for you, but when you aren't left with another option, your recently drafted NFL boyfriend comes to your rescue

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested: by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Erin looked at you as you sat down across from her and sighed. This had been going on for the past week and you had now given yourself a headache trying to figure out what you were going to do.

“Call your boyfriend.” Erin told you as she threw your phone for you to catch it, but you quickly shook your head no as you caught it before it hit the floor.

“I am not calling him.”

“And why NOT?” She exclaimed and looked at you as if you were crazy.

“Because this is my problem and I'm going to deal with it. I don't have to run to him for every little thing.”

“YOUR BOYFRIEND PLAYS IN THE NFL! AS A QUARTERBACK! Or did you suddenly forget?”

“Just because he plays in the NFL doesn't mean I’m going to take advantage of that.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Bestie, I love you but you fucking annoy me so much sometimes. So let me ask you this, Joe doesn't have a problem asking you for sex correct?”

“What in the world are you getting at?”

“Answer my question.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“And he fucks you raw simply because you had a fucking pregnancy scare two semesters ago when he won the Heisman.”

“Erin, get to the point already. I was scared out of my damn mind.” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“My point is that you shouldn't have a problem asking your boyfriend who fucks you raw for money. At the very LEAST like bare minimum he can give you a little cash.”

“I get it but..”

“Uh no you obviously don't. And you know how he is. First thing out of his mouth is going to be why didn't you tell him. I'm convinced that man would drink your bath water if you let him.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“Welp been doing that since we were three and that's not changing any time soon.”

“I don't know. I feel kind of weird asking people for anything. Like not just him and I’ve always been like that.” You said as you got up to go into your kitchen with Erin following close behind.

“It's not like he's going to want you to pay him back. I guarantee you that he'll give it to you without a second thought. You never know unless you try. Surprised he hasn't put your name on the bank account yet.”

“Something is wrong with you.”

“Bitch, don't act like he's not going to put a ring on your finger. Surprised he didn't do it our first semester.” Erin told you as you turned to look in the freezer for ground turkey to make homemade burgers for the two of you.

“Yes, obviously but not yet.”

“He is literally just waiting for you to graduate to do it.”

“And how do you know all this?” You asked as you began to cut up red onion along with some green bell peppers.

“I just do and like I said, he would drink your bath water.”

“Ew, Erin that's nasty.”

“Just calling it like I see it. But if you don't fix this in 48 hours when your rent is due, I'm calling Joe.”

Twenty four hours later you were finally lying down in your bed after a long and exhausting day, your phone rang indicating a facetime call coming through and you rolled over onto the other side to answer it. When your boyfriend's face came into view, you instantly smiled.

“Hi my love.” You quietly said and wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets that were covering you while propping up your phone.

“Hey baby doll. How was your day?” He asked while it looked like he was sitting up against the headboard.

“Hmm, long. I've been up since 4 in the morning. But you know I never pass up an opportunity to talk to you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too and Erin called me.”

“What? Why?”

She literally only gave you 24 hours and not 48 like she promised.

“You tell me. Something going on that I should know about?” Joe asked and you continued to look at him confused.

“Uh, not that I can think of.”

“Let me ask you this then. Have you paid your rent this month for your condo?”

“No and I have no idea why she called you. I told her I would take care of it.”

“Because you miscalculated your bills for this month and they added a whole bunch of fees and you decided to suffer instead of calling your boyfriend for help.”

“I…”

“Is that it?”

“I didn't want to bother you.” You quietly said and Joe just looked at you.

“Seriously? When are you ever bothering me? I have another question for you.”

“Yes?”

“You plan on being with me for a long time, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that I'm going to take care of you right? Especially when you graduate and move up here.”

“Yes.”

“So, why wouldn't I take care of you now?”

“I know you will, but if I can do it on my own, I'm going to try to.”

“But I'm here and you don't have to. Aren't you a WAG now?” Joe asked as he smiled at you.

“I want to be the W and not the G.” You replied without skipping a beat.

“Who’s to say that I don't already have your ring?”

“Well, my finger is still bare so? What does that do for me?” You told him as you held it up so he could see your hand.

“Touché, princess.” Joe told you as he smirked.

“Mm hmm, that's what I thought.”

“But next time you come up here we're picking out a house.”

“I…”

“Me and my future wife along with my future kids need a place to live so we can start looking. Or we can have it built, your choice."

“And a new car, mine is on its last leg.”

“Name it and it's yours. That goes for whatever else you want to.”

“NO! I'm going to get it! You are not going bankrupt buying someone who is not even your wife expensive things.”

“You ARE my wife; it's just not on paper yet.” He told you as he shrugged while your cheeks began to heat up.

“Babeeeee.”

“What? I'm not saying anything that isn't true. And besides, I'm not spending any money from my contract. Just my endorsement deals. But back to our original problem, you're good for the rest of the year.”

“I… JOEY! That was like 4,000 dollars!”

“Money is not a factor when it comes to you. If you need it, I'm getting it. So can we move on?”

"Fine, while I have you in a giving mood, I want an elephant." You replied and Joe simply gave you a blank stare.

"Best I can do is the Cincinatti Zoo, you gotta work with me here."

"Well, you said 'name it and it's yours'."

"Baby, I meant within reason and an elephant is not within reason."

[gingersxng]

Call A Friend

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: when you’ve tried everything to make yourself satisfied and nothing helps, the only thing left to try is to call a friend, who is more than happy to help you.

Notes: freaky friendship??, reader is very horny, so is Mingi, mentioning sex toys, phone sex, dirty talk, horndog! Mingi, lots of teasing, fingering, stripping, nipple/breast play, praising, jerking off, edging, mingi cums on himself, pet names (baby & beautiful), Mingi wanna fuck you!!

Words: 1.4k

You were alone in your apartment, you had a rough day at work and your whole body was aching. It was aching to be touched. This feeling had been going on for at least three days, a constant ache between your thighs that begged for release.

Playing with yourself wasn’t enough to make you completely satisfied, using the vibrator or the big dildo was much but nothing could fix your horniness.

Laying on your bed, you looked up at the ceiling and thought about what to do. Then suddenly, you remembered something in the back of your head. Maybe you should call Mingi? He was a horny freak too, ofc he was a much bigger freak than you but he if someone would understand your needs.

With your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you reached for your phone, your fingers trembled with anticipation. You scrolled through your contacts. Your eyes landed on the picture with a pink haired guy biting his sunglasses.

Without hesitation, you clicked on his number. The phone rang, and with each signal, you got hornier.

“Fuck, can’t he answer” you muttered.

"Hello?" His voice echoed through the phone, deep and rich.

"Mingi, it's Y/n" you purred, you sure sounded needy. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Y/n" he rumbled. "It's been a while. What a pleasant surprise. I was just about to start my evening workout, but I can make an exception for you."

His words sent a rush of heat to your core. You bit your lip, your mind already spinning with naughty thoughts. "Oh, I'd love to join you for your workout, Mingi. I could use a good... stretch." You said seductively.

Mingi let out a low chuckle, the sound resonating in your ear. "I can tell you're up to something. What's on your mind, beautiful?"

"I was feeling a little... restless tonight" you confessed. "And I thought of you. I wanted to hear your voice again, and maybe... do something a little naughty together."

"Oh, Y/n" he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You know how to tempt me don’t you? I'm all ears. Tell me what you want."

You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. "I want you to talk to me, Mingi. I want to hear your voice as I touch myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze through the phone. "Fuck. I forgot you’re just a horny freak like me." He chuckled. You closed your eyes, picturing his handsome face, imagining his strong hands on your body.

"Now, Y/n" he began, his voice taking on a seductive tone. "I want you to take off your clothes. Slowly. Let your fingers glide over your skin, feel every inch of your beautiful body."

Obeying his command, you stood up and began to undress. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your top. You let the fabric slide off the shoulders, exposing your lace bra. Your breasts heaved with each breath, the nipples already filled with arousal.

"That's it, Y/n" Mingi whispered. "Let me see you. Show me how beautiful you are."

You unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your big tits. Your hands cupped them, squeezing gently, as if offering them to him. "Like what you see, Mingi?" You teased.

"God, yes" he groaned. "Your tits are perfect. Pinch your nipples for me, Y/n. Make them harden."

You did as he asked, you rolled your sensitive buds between your fingers, moaning softly at the sensation. "They're so sensitive, Mingi. I can't wait to feel your mouth on them."

"I'll suck them so hard, you'll scream my name" he purred. "Now, slide your hands down your body, tease yourself for me."

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, the skin tingled at his words. Your slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of your skirt, feeling the heat radiating from your aching core. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed your skirt down, revealing your lacy panties.

Mingi’s mind almost went 404, thinking about you all naked on the bed for him. "Now, touch yourself. Let me hear how wet you are."

Your fingers dipped beneath the silk fabric, finding your slick folds. You let out a gasp as you touched yourself. "I'm so wet, Mingi. I can't remember the last time I felt this aroused."

"Good girl" he encouraged. "Now, slide a finger inside. Feel how tight you are."

You did as he instructed, your breath hitched as you penetrated yourself. "Oh, Mingi, I'm so tight. I need more. Please, tell me what to do."

"Tease your clit, Y/n" he commanded. "Circle it with your fingers, but don't touch it directly. Not yet."

Your fingers danced around the swollen bud, your hips thrusted eagerly as you wanted relief. "I need more, Mingi. Please, I'm so close."

"Not yet baby" he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "I want you to edge. Tease yourself until you're right on the brink, and then stop. I want to hear you beg for release."

You whimpered, your body trembled with need. Mingi's voice was like a drug, pushing you further into the depths of pleasure. You complied, your fingers worked your clit with expert precision, bringing yourself to the very edge of orgasm before pulling away.

"Please, Mingi" you begged. "I need to cum. Please, let me finish."

"Not yet" he said. "I want to hear you beg some more. Tell me how much you want it."

Your body was on fire, your juices were flowing freely. "I want it so bad, Mingi. I'm so close. Please, please let me cum."

"That's it, Y/n" he urged. "Beg for it. Tell me how good it will feel when you finally let go."

"Fuck Mingi!" you panted. "Fuck me!!."

"Now, Y/n" he growled. "Let go. Cum for me, beautiful."

His words were like a trigger, you came on the spot. Your body shook as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. You cried out his name with your fingers still working your clit.

"Fuck Y/n" Mingi breathed, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That was incredible. I so wish I could fuck you right now."

Your eyes widened at his sudden words. “Uhmm…” you suddenly went quiet. You heard a low groan on the other side of the phone.

"I'm hard as a rock right now" he purred. "Listening to you pleasuring yourself made me so horny, could you help me?."

A wicked smile spread across your face. "Oh, I'd love to help you, Mingi. What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to talk to me, Y/n" he said, his voice low and husky. "Tell me how you'd suck my cock. Describe it to me in detail, and make me cum with your words."

You almost choked, you knew Mingi were a horndog but you two never actually got to bed together. You tried to picture what his dick would look like, it had to be big, thick, veiny… you imagined the feel of it in your mouth. "I'd start by licking the tip, Mingi. Tasting your precum, letting it tease my tongue. Then, I'd take you deep, as deep as I could, until my lips touched the base."

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned. "That's exactly what I need to hear. Keep going, baby."

"I'd suck you hard" you continued, your voice growing bolder. "My lips are tight around your shaft, my tongue swirling, teasing the underside. I'd look up at you with lust filled eyes, watching your pleasure."

"Yes" he hissed. "I'm so fucking close. Tell me how you'd swallow it."

"I'd take every drop" you purred. "I'd suck you dry, feeling your cock twitch in my mouth as you cum. I'd savor the taste of you, wanting more."

His breathing was ragged now, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. His low moan echoed through the phone, followed by a series of guttural grunts. "Oh, Y/n... fuck I'm... cumming!"

You listened as he climaxed, his voice could make you cum again. The thought of him stroking his hard cock, imagining your mouth on him, was enough to make you ache for more.

His hoodie was stained in white thick cum.

"That was incredible, Y/n" he breathed. "I've never had a phone call like that before. Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine" you replied. "What about doing this more often? You shyly asked.

"I don’t know about that.. phone sex was good but I’d rather fuck you next time”

[strang3lov3]

The First Taste

Roman offers you money if you just let him put the tip in. Just the tip, that's all (it's not all).

Tags - smut, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, virginity kink, big dick roman roy, dare i call that cock gargantuan, ludicrously capacious, even? Unprotected piv, fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, hand jobs, nipple stim, just the tip (it’s never just the tip) dubcon, manipulation, deception, coercion, betrayal, Roman solicits sex from reader and is also insensitive about stds, pay him no mind. I made myself soaking wet every day while writing this so. Do what you will with that information. 5.8k words. A/N - This is just...smut. Beginning to end. I’m gonna be working on stepdaddy after this, probably write a stepdaddy sick fic cuz I feel kinda like shit. Kisses to all yall sluts 😘

Finally, some fucking quiet. For now. 

The couple in the hotel room next to yours has been going at it all night, a marathon of fucking. Endless moans, rhythmic squeaking of the bed becoming louder and faster, then quieter and slower. This couple makes you wonder if their room is the honeymoon suite or something, the way they’re fucking like a couple of newly-wed bunnies. You rest against the plush headboard, closing your stinging eyes momentarily. 

You dipped from the wedding an hour or so ago, maybe closer to two hours at this point. It’s about midnight now. You’re alone in your room, crinkling the once neatly made bedding as you play a dumb little game on your phone. Your mind wanders as you mindlessly tap the screen, thinking about what the couple next door is doing. What he’s doing to her, what she’s doing to him. How good it all feels, probably. You wonder what it’s like. 

Knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock–

Roman. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know it’s him. Nobody else knocks like that, and nobody else would show up at your door at this particular hour. You sigh as you get out of bed, taking heavy steps toward the door before opening it. 

“Evening, sexpot. You have something of mine and I’d like it back, please and thank you.” 

Roman’s still wearing the outfit he wore during the wedding, though missing his suit jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white button down shirt are rolled above his elbows, there’s an extra button undone. Once neatly slicked back, his hair is now disheveled, a few loose strands falling over his eyebrows. His eyes are half-lidded, lips curled into that smug, casual, infuriatingly handsome smirk he always wears. He looks gorgeous. 

“I do?” you ask, thinking before remembering quickly. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I do.” You open the door wider and make space to allow him to follow behind you, Roman first closing the door. You unplug his charger from the wall outlet and wrap the cord in a figure-eight around your fingers, some habit you’re not sure where or when you picked up. Roman holds out his hand and you place the charger in his palm. “So is the wedding finally over?”

“Mhm. You vanished on me, though, Cinderella. I thought I’d get at least a dance out of you but you stood me up, you heartbreaker, you. Felt like a virgin on prom night,” Roman laments with a dramatic flair, no real hurt in his tone. “But I’ll live. Me and some bridesmaid-chick totally dry humped on the dance floor, so it all worked out.”

You know he’s teasing, probably lying. Embellishing the truth. But it makes you squirm just the same, and you’re not totally sure why. You could be a little jealous, maybe. But there’s another reason, too.

“Anyway, uh. Thanks. I’ll leave you to it,” Roman says, toying with the charger cord. 

“No, thank you. Came in hand–” 

“Oh, fuck, like that. Just like that, harder, harder, fuck, ohhhh!” 

You’re interrupted by the sounds of your temporary neighbor’s moans that you’ve become very well-acquainted with. “Oh my god,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. 

Roman’s lips curl into an even wider smile, his eyes lighting up as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, nice!” he says, giggling, “Man. That’s awesome. Lucky you, with your front row seat to the show. Maybe there’s a hole in the wall behind this mirror or something. You should see if you can watch.”

“They’ve been going at it for hours,” you deadpan. 

Roman nods in approval, that big, stupid smile still on his lips. “Awh, fuck yeah. Good for them. You should ask to join. We both could, actually. Let’s go knock.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea, even knowing Roman’s not serious. Probably not serious, at least. Roman notices this, takes mental notes of your flustered expression, how you look anywhere but at him. The shifting of your feet, the unnecessary movements your body makes as you squirm. “Ahh, too shy. I get it,” Roman says. “So you’re just - you’re…what, jerking off to it in here, all by your lonesome? Fuck, did I interrupt? How rude, let me get out–”

“No!”

“No? You want me to stay?”

“No - you - I–” you huff, closing your eyes as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. “I meant that I’m not…you know. Doing that.”

Roman’s eyes sparkle. “It’s okay, you can admit it. I know you ladies are more, you know - audio than visual.” He wiggles his fingers by his ears as he paces slowly around the room, inspecting the slice of cake you brought back with you from the wedding, swiping a bit of frosting off the plate with his finger before sucking on it.

“Stop it, Roman.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a while, if you don’t mind. Listen to the music.”

“Whatever, knock yourself out. I’m not sleeping as long as they’re still doing it.” 

True to his word, Roman listens intently to the sounds of the couple fucking. You wouldn’t expect anything else from him. He makes little faces of intrigue or surprise at the noises, the extra loud moans or the occasional smack. You regret allowing him to stay. This is so fucking awkward, so you distract yourself by tidying up your already-pristine hotel room. Rearranging some glasses that haven’t been touched, then pouring yourself another glass of water even though you’re not actually thirsty. Roman notices all of this, too. At some point his attention shifts from the muffled noises coming from the other side of the wall to you, how you nervously flit around the room. He decides to up the tension, to make it all worse for you.

“We should fuck,” he says plainly. “You know, louder than them. Establish our dominance. There’s a bed right there.” 

It takes you a second to reply. “Funny,” is all you say, your voice coming out quietly and not very confident. Fuck. 

“You’re very shy about it, you know that?”

“Shy about what?”

“Oh, fucking - c’mon. You know what,” he deadpans. “Sex! Coitus. Fornicating. Love mak–”

“No, yeah. I got it–”

“Fucking,” Roman interrupts. “So why are you all shy about it?”

“I’m not - I’m not shy,” you stutter.

“But you are. Because you don’t talk about it, ever. You like, clam up, get all fuckin’ weird and quiet,” Roman says, gesturing to you. “And like right now, you won’t even look at me. It’s almost like you’re nervous or something. Are you?” he pauses, “Nervous, that is?”

You’re feeling defensive now, cornered, as Roman’s wedged himself deep under your skin. “No, I just - what does it matter, Roman?” you snap. Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cross your arms. 

“I just wanna know, that’s all. Just curious,” he replies, tempering his tone to be much less pointed, less mocking. “You know me. No judgement here.”

“I just…don’t feel the need to talk about it, I guess.”

“You can’t even say it,” Roman digs, crossing his arms. “Are you a prude? Is that it?”

“No, Roman, I’m not a prude. It’s just a very personal thing for some people.”

“Naturally.”

“Not that you’d understand,” you bite.

Roman presses a hand against his chest, pretending you’ve just shot him. “Ouch. But yeah, no, I get it.” Roman pauses, then joins you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Is it herpes?” he whispers. “It’s herpes, isn’t it? You know, there’s no shame in it. I’ve actually created new strains of STDs myself in the course of all of my sexcapades. And look at me, I’m not ashamed,” he smiles, stifling a giggle at his own joke.

“If that’s true, Roman, you really should be. And don’t be facetious. That’s not something to laugh about.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he concedes, the apology devoid of any sincerity at all. “So are you saving it for marriage, then? Gonna give Mr. Right your most precious gift?”

You freeze then. Roman’s getting warmer, burning hot. It’s not the truth, but it’s not…not…the truth. An inch away from uncovering your big secret, that you’re a virgin. Never had sex, not once. 

It must be written all over your face in big, bolded letters or something, because Roman’s face twists in realization. His eyes are sparkling, jaw dropped in an open, wry smile. “Holy fuck,” he scoffs. “You’re shitting me. Virgin?! You’re a virgin? Oh my god, gross. Ew,” he laughs, turning your cheek to force you to look at him. 

It makes you feel bad inside. Insecure. Your bottom lip quivers a little as tears well up in your eyes, that awful feeling of embarrassment taking over every one of your senses. Face hot, ears pounding, the walls closing in. “Roman,” you whisper, tilting your chin down to hide yourself.

“Hey - heyyy. Don’t fuckin’...don’t be like that,” he says, tilting your face back up. Roman laughs, then makes a sympathetic expression as he pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight hug. Some of your tears soak the collar of his shirt as he presses your face into his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I took it too far, that’s on me. I’m sorry. Hey–” Roman nuzzles your hair, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

You don’t say anything. You’re too pissed to speak but even if you weren’t, you’re not sure that you could conjure up any sort of response to…whatever the fuck just happened.

“It’s not so terrible, being a virgin.” Roman offers, rubbing your back soothingly as he kisses the top of your head. “There’s worse things to be.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” you ask, voice muffled as you mumble into his shirt. 

“Like…fuckin’ dead, I guess.” Roman thinks for a second, “Or ugly. And you’re not that, so…”

“Thanks, Rome,” you reply flatly. 

“And guys like virgins,” he adds. “Like, do you know how much some creeps would pay to fuck virgin pussy?”

“Uhh…”

“Millions. They’d pay millions,” Roman says, taking note of how your ears perk up at the statement, the incredulous look you give him. “Yeah, now that’s interesting to you, isn’t it? Shit, I’d pay you for it. Let’s skip the middleman, huh?”

“What? No.” You pull away from Roman’s arms. 

“Yes. Why not?”

Why not? Just the littlest amount of pushback from Roman and you’re already questioning the lines you’ve drawn in the sand for yourself. For a moment, you contemplate the idea of having sex with Roman, and you’re tempted - his naked body on yours, pleasuring you in a way you’ve never felt at the hands of someone else before, his attention all on you. His perfect, soft lips on yours as he swallows your moans, loving you the way you deserve. But ultimately you decide no, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. Not like how he’s suggesting. He doesn’t have the capacity to handle something like this with any amount of respect or tact.

“I don’t know, Roman. I guess that I always envisioned my first time having sex being with someone that I love. Or trust, at the very least.” 

“And you don’t trust me?”

You scoff “Fuck, no.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Roman nods. “Okay, fine. I won’t pressure you. You save that special little gift of yours for someone who deserves it.” 

You nod as you look down at the floor, tracing the pattern in the carpet with your eyes, gasping when you feel Roman touch your bare knee. “Or…” he murmurs.

“Or?”

Roman’s had the idea of screwing you in his head for a while now, and by his own admission, is especially turned on at the prospect of being the first one to fuck you. It fills him with a primal sort of feeling, knowing that at least for a moment, you’d be his. Your first lover’s name you’d moan would be his, your first orgasm at the hands of another will belong to him only, forever. There’s something about taking your virginity that fills him with a sickening, all-consuming sort of need. He’ll do it, too. By any means necessary.    

“Just the tip,” he whispers, his warm hand sliding up your thigh to toy with the edge of your pajama shorts. He wriggles them even higher, not stopping even when you hold your breath and grab his wrist to keep him from traveling further. “Chill. I’m not doing anything,” Roman mumbles, sliding his hand out from under yours to take your hand and put it flat on the bed. He holds your thigh again and speaks slowly, quietly, “You just let me put the tip in and I’ll pay you the same. Whatever - whatever fuckin’ number you want, alright? Put however many zeroes at the end, and it’s yours…if you just let me put the tip in. Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Just the tip,” you repeat quietly, thinking…thinking that it sounds like bullshit, and yet, you’re kind of falling for it anyway. He makes you feel stupid, even when he’s not insulting you.

Roman speaks again before you can talk yourself out of it. “Just the tip,” he lies. “So long as I don’t - you know, fully penetrate you - technically, you’d still be a virgin by the end of our little thing.”

“You’re saying it wouldn’t count?” 

Roman nods his head. “Wouldn’t count at all. It’s…a loophole of sorts,” he says, tracing his fingertips up and down your thigh, inching closer and closer to where he wants to feel you the most. “Virginity stays intact. C’mon,” he urges.

You’re fighting yourself. Roman can see the temptation and the self-preservation fighting each other in your mind, and he can’t let the smarter, safer side of you win this. 

“You’ve got nothing to lose,” he adds. And he’d get to satisfy a curiosity, but that’s not something he needs to tell you. 

“I don’t know, Rome. It - something about it makes me nervous.”

“I know. But I’ll be gentle with you, alright? I’ll take it nice and fuckin’ slow, walk you through the whole thing. No surprises.” Roman shifts a little and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, then pulls out a stack of bills, all hundreds, and places them on your nightstand. “There. Call it a fuckin’...deposit or whatever, I don’t know. Now do we have a deal or not, virgin?”

You bite your lip as you think - or do something resembling thinking, rather. You can’t think clearly, not with Roman’s hands now on your waist. He doesn’t have to touch you anywhere private or sensitive - just his hands on your body is enough to make your brain fucking melt, you poor thing. Don’t even know how badly you need it, need him. Roman will make it all better. Fix you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He presses a couple of kisses against the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue as he licks you there. You let out a broken moan in response, nodding urgently. Roman smiles against your skin in satisfaction. “Attagirl,” he murmurs, then pulls away from you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted. Perfect. 

He dims the lamps around the room and turns off the overhead lights, casting the room in a warm, orange glow before joining you on the bed again. “Let’s fuckin’ do this thing. You ready?”

“I don’t - I don’t -”

Roman calms you down before you spiral. “Shh, relax. Relax. We’re going slow, like I said,” he reminds you. “God, you’re so fuckin’...c’mere.” 

Roman puts both of his strong hands on your face, thumbs on your jaw, the rest of his fingers firmly pressing into your neck. He pulls you close and kisses you, and his lips feel even better than they look. You let out a little noise that Roman doesn’t acknowledge; he only continues to move his lips tenderly against yours, deepening the kiss when you begin to reciprocate. 

He’s an excellent kisser. The way he uses his tongue makes you feel dizzy and sets your whole body on fire, and you feel his hands everywhere. Your face, your neck, your waist, digging his fingers into you and squeezing you like he loves you. “Gimme these.” Roman takes your hands in his own and puts them on his own shoulders, his silent way of showing you how it all should be done as he inches closer to you. 

He’s warm, warmer than you imagined. Warm in a comforting way. He smells so…him. Slightly sweaty, but not in a bad way, with his cologne worn down to its base notes. He tastes good, but you couldn’t even begin to describe. You’d be content with just this tonight, really. 

Roman deepens the kiss and lays you down gently, caging you in with his body. You’re still feeling out of your depth, unsure of where or how or if you should even touch him, though Roman doesn’t seem to mind. Of course he doesn’t mind. He’s got only one thing on his brain, and that’s ruining you. Touch him however you like or don’t touch him, he doesn’t give a fuck. 

His fingers crawl beneath your shirt, climbing up your body until he’s squeezing gently at the flesh of your breasts. You gasp when he rubs his thumb in circles over your nipple, feeling it harden with his touch. “Rome-” you breathe, clutching his bicep. 

“It’s okay,” he tells you, repeating the action with your other nipple, causing you to writhe beneath him. “I gotta get you ready for it, sweetheart.”

Roman pushes your shirt up as high as it’ll go, and kisses your neck, dragging his tongue down your skin. He uses the muscle to tease one of your nipples, putting to use his lips and teeth as well. His hands travel down your body, fingers passing over the neat little bow at the front of your pajama bottoms as they slide down towards your center.

You gasp when you feel him touch you there, just over the fabric. Roman groans as he rubs his fingers, feeling how you’ve soaked yourself. “Yeah, you weren’t fuckin’ lying, were you? Made a goddamn mess down here,” he mumbles, pressing little kisses against your neck. 

“Lying about what?” you breathe.

Roman has to stifle his laugh so as not to embarrass you, but you are such a cliche, absolutely drenched from a bit of kissing. Too easy. “Shh, nothing,” he says. “Nothing. You’re fine.” Roman pulls your panties and shorts to the side, exposing your cunt to himself. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm.”

Roman only nods as pulls your thighs apart, and your heart pounds hard. He traces your lips only momentarily before diving between your folds, feeling the pool of arousal he’s caused. 

“Fuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. “R-Roman, Roman…”

“Ohh, man, you’re sensitive,” Roman laughs quietly, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. “Holy fuck. That feel good? Huh, virgin?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, squeezing his forearm and bicep with your hands as if to anchor yourself or something. You feel like you’re gonna break. Everything feels heightened, but sort of sharp and fuzzy at the same time. Your head spins, and you can’t keep track of your thoughts. 

You whine when Roman pushes his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out slowly. “How does that feel?” he asks.

“Good, kinda - uh…kind - kind of hurts.”

“You gotta relax,” he tells you, “ It’s okay.”  

Roman shifts a little and smiles at you before curling his fingers, stroking that special, sensitive little place deep inside your cunt you’ve probably never found on your own before. By the way your eyes roll back into your head and how you squeeze your legs shut around his arm, Roman guesses he’s right. “Oh my - fuck, Rome, that - you–” Your voice comes out in broken, breathy moans and you don’t bother finishing your sentence. All you can do is bury your face into his neck and try not to shatter into a million pieces. 

Roman fingers you like that for a minute or two longer, listening to those wet noises your cunt makes for him, then slows down his movements before pulling away. “You’re ready for it,” he tells you.

“I am?”

“Absolutely.” 

Roman leans back and sits you up, then pulls off your shirt without saying so much as a single word. He does the same to your shorts and panties, tossing them into a crumpled pile on the carpet. The way you squirm and hide yourself makes Roman smile. “Don’t be shy. I need to be able to see what I’m working with, right?”

“Yeah, no. That makes sense.”

“Hold on.” Roman unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, pulling off his undershirt too. His bulge is sizable in his black slacks, and when he unbuckles his belt and pulls the rest of his clothes off, his hard cock slapping against his tummy, your eyes widen. His dick is massive. The tip reaches his belly button, and it’s curved beautifully, slightly to the right. Roman wraps his fingers around it and squeezes, knuckles whitening a little.

“Y-you’re fucking huge,” you stutter.

“I know, right? It’s Roman Roy’s best kept secret.” He smiles wide, pleased with himself as he winks at you. “Alright. Spread those legs and let’s fuckin’ party.” Roman reaches for your ankles and pulls them apart, eyebrows raising when you fight to keep them closed. 

“No! No, don’t.”

“...No?” Roman drops your ankles and sits back, eyeing you. “Scared?”

“Very.” 

He chuckles. “You’ve never even felt a cock before, have you?” Roman asks, stroking his cock slowly. You shake your head and he nods in understanding. “Wow, it really is all new to you. That’s my bad, sweetheart.” 

Roman lays down next to you again, this time flat on his back. He shifts a little and grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. “Get to know it a little. Just touch it, however you want,” he instructs. Roman waits for you to touch him, but you’re frozen. He raises an eyebrow, “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“I know, I just don’t know…don’t know what to do.”

Roman says nothing, only presses your fingertips against the large, blunt head of his cock. “Like this,” he says, dragging your fingers down his shaft. He wraps your fingers around his length, then lets you go. Your turn.

You slide your palm up and down his dick, just…taking it all in. His cock feels heavy in your hand which doesn’t surprise you, but you’re struck by his warmth, the heat radiating from him. You trace his veins, then squeeze him slightly in your fist, feeling him throb a little. 

Roman patiently lets you explore, despite it being an excruciating tease, groaning softly as he tilts his head back. “Now when you do this for real, with your Mr. Right or whoever,” Roman says, “Don’t just tease him like this. You’ll piss him off,” he warns.

“I will?”

“Oh yeah. No, you’re even pissing me off a little bit. Like, if this weren’t a teaching moment, I’d fuck you in two for this shit.” Roman words scare you a bit, and you stop touching him. “Relax, will you? It’s not gonna happen. You’re in good hands.” 

“Okay.”

“Let me show you what to do instead.” Roman takes your hand again, this time spitting in it. “You grab it like you mean it,” he says, wrapping your fingers tightly around his cock, tighter than you would have done yourself. “And–” Roman slides your palm up and down his length, helping you to maintain that firm pressure, “You go all the way up, all the way down. Like - fuck - yeah, like that. You’re a fuckin’ natural, virgin, look at you.”

Roman lets you work him on your own, simply enjoying the feel of your hand on his cock. He thinks it’s cute when you circle his tip with your fingers - it’s not something he taught you to do, but he doesn’t mind it. 

“Does this feel like, good?”

“Feels awesome. But,” Roman purrs, “You know what’d feel even better?”

“What?”

“You gotta be brave, sweetheart. Do you want to be brave for me?”

You’re not feeling very brave or adventurous but you nod a little anyway, and Roman jumps at the opportunity. He moves you down the bed, sitting you down between his thighs that are spread wide. “You’re gonna suck my dick,” he tells you, grabbing your face with one of his hands. “Don’t freak out, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Open your mouth.” 

Roman holds his thick cock between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He taps the head against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open wider. When you open your mouth more, Roman lowers your head and fits himself between your lips, simply letting you get used to the feeling of him there. It takes a lot of patience on his part, to not fuck your mouth here and now. 

You’re not sure what to do, and Roman knows this. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he bounces your head just a little on his cock, your tongue sliding over his weeping slit. The taste of his precome surprises you - it’s a salty, warm, masculine sort of flavor that you don’t really mind. You’re pleased by how soft his skin feels, how he smells. Gaining confidence, you take him deeper into your mouth.

If Roman were a better man, he’d stop you - he’d warn you that you’re going to choke on his cock, that it’s gonna be too much too quickly. But that’s not Roman, not by a long shot. He inches you further down his cock with each bob of your head, grinning at the way you gurgle and sputter a little. “Little more,” he says. “Keep going.”

Cock in mouth, drool dripping down your chin, you look at Roman, searching for some sort of approval or encouragement. “You got it. And use your tongue, sweetheart. You can make a mess on me. You should, actually.”

You move your tongue in inconsistent patterns, swirling it around his length as Roman moves your head. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructs. “You’re doing so well.”

 He lets out soft little groans and his eyes shut for a moment, lips parted. Saliva is running down his cock and your jaw is beginning to ache from his girth, but Roman ignores your noises of discomfort and the tears in your eyes. He fucks himself deeply into your mouth, pushing you far past the point he should. Then suddenly, you gag and cough harshly, pulling yourself off of him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you spit.

Roman rubs your back and stretches across the bed, reaching for your glass of water. “You’re good, you’re alright,” he says, pressing the glass against your lips. “Have some water. You’re not supposed to take me all at once, virgin. That’s how you choke,” he taunts.  

After finishing the water, Roman takes your glass and sets it back on the nightstand. “Alright. Back to you, sweetheart. Lie back and spread your legs for me.” 

You tremble a little as you lie down, parting your legs only a little. You feel the bed shift with Roman’s moving weight and close your eyes, nervously anticipating the inevitable. 

Roman pushes your knees toward your chest and lowers himself, smirking at how tense you look with your short breaths, your fingers fidgeting with the comforter. He could warn you of what’s to come with a couple of kisses pressed against your inner thighs, but it’ll be more fun to surprise you. 

He licks your sex from bottom to top with a flat tongue, dragging it slowly through your folds. “Roman,” you gasp, hands darting for his head. You tangle your fingers in the sleek strands of his hair, tugging on them tightly. “You - you’re–”

“Shh,” he interrupts. His stubble scratches your inner thighs as he teases you, tongue circling your clit. Roman buries himself in that softest and most private place on your body, rubbing the tip of his perfect nose against your clit as he tastes you. He circles your entrance a couple of times before dipping inside, tasting your arousal right from the hole it trickles from. 

You’re babbling incoherently, whimpering his name as he then drags his tongue up and down your folds. He circles your clit once, then twice, then pulls the hood back and laves over the sensitive bud repeatedly, forcing you to lie still with a strong hand holding you down. He savors you like this, how you shudder and shake, muscles tensing as you fight to close your legs, not used to a feeling so intense. Roman fucks you with his tongue, guiding you through the first orgasm you’ve ever shared with another as you gush into his mouth, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

When Roman pulls away, you feel like you could cry. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and try to will away that pressure building behind your eyes, but it’s hard. You wonder if Roman notices. 

“Now you’re really fuckin’ ready,” he tells you. 

“Okay,” you breathe, voice shaking. “Just the tip?”

“Mhm. Just the tip,” Roman confirms. He hovers over you and reaches between your legs to gather your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your slick. When he presses the thick head of his dick against your pussy, your heart races. You can’t conjure the words to tell him what you need, and urgently take his free hand in yours. 

“You wanna hold my hand?” Roman smirks and laces his fingers between yours, pinning your hand against the bed. “We can hold hands, sweetheart.” And then, in one swift, brutal motion, Roman fully buries his cock fully inside you. 

It sends you reeling. He’s so huge, it feels like he’s splitting you in two. You feel betrayed and try to squirm away, but Roman forces you to stay down with a hand on your ribcage. Forces you to take it, to feel it all. “Shhh, shh. You’re - hey - you’re fine.” Roman catches the free hand you use to try and shove him backwards and pins it to the bed with the other. 

“Y-you–” you sob, unable to form a sentence. 

“Ohhh, I know, I know, I know,” Roman coos mockingly. “I played a dirty trick on you, huh? Wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

You look at Roman and cry, tears falling down your temples and into your hair. With his hand still clutching yours, he uses your own knuckles to wipe some tears away. “Poor thing. You’ll get used to it.” 

“But you said–”

“I know what I said,” Roman interrupts. “It’s never just the tip, baby, you know that. Or–” Roman pauses, thrusting into you deeply, “Maybe you really don’t know that. But this is real life, sweetheart. It’s a cruel fuckin’ world out there.” 

Roman sets a pace then, drawing in and out of you. Not particularly harshly or quickly, because the penetration alone hurts enough. He rocks his hips, pulling out of you and filling you up all the way with every stroke. 

“Roman, stop–”

“No. Fucking take it.”   

Roman ignores your sounds of discomfort, going so far as to cover your mouth instead. Your sobs are muffled under his palm, skin dampening with tears and saliva. Roman builds the tempo, lips curled into that awful, lopsided smile. “Listen to yourself. You’re fuckin’ soaked, do you hear that?” he taunts through a strained breath. 

The pain is utterly blinding, until it isn’t. You almost resent the way the hurt is replaced with pleasure now, because the betrayal is still there. Betrayal by Roman, and now by your own body. This…this isn’t what you were promised. You trusted Roman and he exploited that, but you’re fucking enjoying it.

Roman’s palm tastes salty over your mouth. When he removes it, a moan slips past your lips, and Roman grins. “Yeah, there it is. Not so terrible, huh, baby?”

You free your hands from his grip and wrap your arms around his shoulders, which is the only thing that feels right. You don’t entirely know why, you just know that you need him close. Roman pulls back a little to watch you, his greenish, hazel eyes darkened with something primal as he pulls out of you and pushes into you, again and again and again. You bury your face in his neck as he fucks you, and one of his hands slide up your torso to grope your breast and tease your nipple.

“Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” Roman grunts, rutting his hips into you. He’s in love with all of this, in truth. Addicted. How soft your body is for him, for his hands to squeeze and his fingers to dig into. He could fucking eat you. 

He fits his hand between your bodies, the heel of his palm pressing into your pubic bone. He rubs your clit in circles, thrusting into you harder, faster, deeper. “Look at me. Right here” he pants, using his free hand to hold your face. “Come on my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pulls your orgasm from you effortlessly. Roman’s name spills from your lips in choking sobs as you come on his cock, feeling impossibly full as your cunt pulses around him. It’s the heaviest, most overwhelming feeling, washing over you in waves, muscles spasming and twitching. Roman’s thrusts turn frenzied and frantic, and there it is - he’s coming too. Milking himself inside you, spurting thick, hot ropes of his come, and you take all of it. 

Roman pulls out of you then, and uses two fingers to push his escaped spend back inside your poor, raw, throbbing cunt. This time, you do cry. “Ohh, come here,” Roman says softly. He scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly, stroking your hair. “You okay?”

“No,” you sniffle. 

“No?” Roman repeats, momentarily moving you to lean over the bed. He reaches for his pants and grabs his phone out of the pocket, then takes his place next to you again, pulling you into his side tightly. “You’ll get over it. Watch,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and opening Venmo. He pulls up your profile and shows you the screen, the little blue cursor blinking. You type in a number, then give the phone back to Roman, who adds an extra zero before tapping Pay.

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me ♡

romey tags

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@/perpetuallymanic @/111melo @/veryverycoolgirl @/marisemonteiroo

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, ANGST, simon riley being an asshole (like really), kind of gore description as metaphor for REAALLYY desperate love??? non-consensual tracking by reader (SURPRISE!!)

Simon might be the worst denialist ever. Because, how could he say it was all casual?

“I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon gritting his teeth, jaw locked. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

[sneak peek of chapter 13 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.".]

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 5

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie make some calls and get to know each other a little more.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

Master List

No beta, you all should know better by now.

“You’re old enough to buy your own now, you know. I’m only gonna up-charge you.” 

“What? Can’t a girl just buy some smokes from her friend?” 

“Right. Friends.”

“Fine, then I’m supporting a local business.” 

“What do you actually want, Stacy?”

“I’m just making sure that you two are going to play nice.”

“What the Hell? Shouldn’t you be telling her that?”

“She’s always nice.”

“Right, and I’m the queen of Sheba.”

“Well then, your majesty, just give me my smokes and I’ll be on my way.”

Bev wasn’t too happy that Eddie was going to be coming in an hour and a half later than expected on his Wednesday shift but she waved it off. The Hideout survived without him for god knows how long, the small dive could handle losing a busboy for a few hours on a weekday night. 

He sauntered into Ms. Benson’s classroom a fashionable ten minutes late, and a few dollars richer. You were already sitting at a desk chatting with Ms. Benson about who-knows-what before taking his own seat on top of the desk. 

If Eddie had to be here, he might as well rebel in his own way. He really would rather be bussing tables and trying to convince Bev to give him extra time on stage than do school services with someone who hated him. 

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Munson.” Ms. Benson said, ignoring the fact that he was on his desk. She pulled out a thick binder and a rolodex that looked like it would fall apart if she didn’t hold it just so. “In here, you’ll find the budget for Spring Day and all of the different vendors and events that we’ve used over the past ten years.” 

Being the smart woman that she was, she placed the rolodex in front of you and dropped the binder on Eddie’s lap. He raised an eyebrow and flipped through it casually, as if looking through the Spring Day binder would provide him with secrets to the school that he could use to force Higgins to let him graduate this year. 

“There’s a phone in the teachers lounge you can use.” She continued, grabbing her own purse. “Let me know what you come up with on Monday.” 

“Wait- are you leaving?” You asked, jaw dropped as Ms. Benson started out of the room. “You’re not gonna help?”

“There’s only one phone. Just get some quotes for vendors. All of the information is in the binder. Just close the door tight when you leave.”  

Your mouth was still agape as Ms. Benson left, which was very amusing to Eddie. It was dead silent before Eddie burst out in a maniacal cackle that echoed through the classroom and made you jump. That also amused Eddie. 

“Well well, it looks like it’s just us in charge of Spring Day.” He got off the desk and dropped the binder down where he had just been sitting. Eddie leaned over the binder and flipped through it. “I’m thinking evil clowns, adding balloon popping back but with knives, and a petting zoo with snakes and goats.” Eddie turned and grinned wide at you. 

“What, no fortune teller to tell you how you’re gonna die a gruesome death?” Your voice was flat, but Eddie could pick up the hint of amusement in your voice which made his grin widen. 

“I’m sure we can dress you up in something covered in stars. I’ll sit under the table and shake it. We’ll make a killing!” Eddie laughed. 

“A killing? Really?” You shook your head at the terrible joke and flipped through the rolodex with a sour look on your face. Eddie hadn’t meant to make a pun, but if it annoyed you he’d keep it up. 

Play nice.

As if Stacy had any say over what happened between the two of you. He barely knew either of you.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to charge for anything, anyway.” you continued, flipping through the cards almost as fast as Doug flipped through long boxes at the comic shop. 

“What doesn’t kill Higgens won’t hurt us.” Eddie pressed, not even fully invested in the idea himself. Something about his talk with Stacy just got under his skin, and the only way he could shake it was by getting under yours now. 

“I don’t think half of these businesses even exist anymore.” you said to yourself as you kept flipping through the rolodex with your good hand. Eddie sighed and figured you were ignoring him until you continued. “This laundromat shut down last year. I heard it was a front for some mafia and there was a shootout.”

Eddie perked up a little, had that been an attempt at playing along? It wasn’t completely in line, but everyone in town knew that the laundromat had just been flooded from the inside when a pipe burst. 

“There’s no mafia in Hawkins.” Eddie said, looking over your shoulder at the rolodex. “Only cults that sacrifice people to the dark forces.” 

You stopped messing with the rolodex, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d said something wrong. You had apologized before, maybe it was too soon to joke about it? 

Eddie was usually good at reading people, but you were harder to understand. 

“So, what’s the budget that we’re supposed to be working with?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“Three pennies and an expired coupon for Benny’s.” Eddie replied, flipping back to the first page. 

“Yeah, that sounds right. I guess there’s no room in the budget when the basketball team needs new jerseys or the cheerleaders need pom-poms.” you rolled your eyes, done messing with the rolodex. 

Eddie was a little surprised at the dig towards the cheerleaders, considering your best friend was one. Had been one. Why the hell had she wanted to buy smokes from him today?

The two of you finally got up and made your way to the teacher’s lounge. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, gave him a half hearted wave as she finished washing her coffee cup. Eddie liked Ms. Teedee, she didn’t give a shit about his reputation. Art and shop were the only classes he had ever done consistently well in, so when he was saddled with a third senior year he decided to re-take art as an easy A. 

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon calling places and taking down numbers. You did most of the talking, but Eddie took charge when you got up to use the bathroom. 

Eddie was surprised when you came back, well that you came back. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had run for the hills and left him alone. But you did come back, two bags of chips in hand. One of them was offered to him. 

“Thanks...?” Eddie didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did anyway. How was it that one minute you hated him, but another you were apologizing? You were scandalized to be left alone with him to work on this, and yet came back with food. 

He shouldn’t trust it, but he also wasn’t too good for free snacks. 

“So, what’s your deal?” Eddie asked, timing his question with you shoving a few large chips in your mouth. 

“Huh?” was your graceful reply as you covered your mouth with your hand. He could see that his timing was not appreciated, which made him feel better. 

“Your deal. Which of these fine cliques here at Hawkins Hell do you belong to?” Eddie elaborated, spreading his arms as if gesturing to a crowd when in reality he was gesturing to the table the phone was sitting on. 

You took a moment to finish chewing, giving him a glare as you finally got the chips down. Okay, maybe Eddie felt a little bad for that, as you had been nice enough to get him a snack. 

Play nice.

He was a dungeon master, he wasn’t known for playing nice. He could at least play fair though. 

“I don’t belong to anyone.” you said finally, flipping through the binder and not looking at him. “I got in late, made friends with Stacy and... I don’t know. This late in the game, cliques aren’t exactly taking new applicants. Not this close to graduation when everyone has known each other since elementary school.” 

Eddie looked at your broken wrist again, looking at all the different signatures. For someone who didn’t belong to any group, you sure were on everyone’s good side. 

Everyone had some group they belonged to. That’s how high school worked. The Freaks sat with him, the Jocks sat with their teams, the Science Nerds sat with the science nerds... that’s how high school- no, that’s how the world worked, according to Eddie. 

Your response would normally have you tucked away as “new kid” or “freshman” but neither of those fit you. You knew too many people. You hung out with an ex-cheerleader, but you weren’t exactly jumping around with excitement at the last pep-rally. Stacy still dressed like a cheerleader, and was just as nosy as one but you didn’t look popular. 

Not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked to Eddie, you just didn’t look or dress like the popular crowd. He could tell you apart from the near identical wave of perms and ponytails. 

What was your deal?

When Eddie didn’t respond in an appropriate amount of time for you, you responded with the same question. 

“What’s your deal, Eddie?” His name sounded foreign coming from your mouth. 

“Huh?” he asked, shoving a chip into his own mouth, mimicking you. You rubbed your face and let out a laugh, to his surprise. 

“What’s your deal? Or, I guess what’s Hellfire’s deal?” You clarified. 

“Well, you see, it’s a fantasy game-” 

“Not a cult?” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” 

“Go on.”

You didn’t interrupt him again as he started explaining the bare basics of the game, figuring that you were just looking for an excuse to stop calling people for a moment. That was fine with Eddie, he’d happily sit here and rant about his favorite game in the teachers lounge, tainting the warden’s space with the game that they tried to hide away from the rest of the inmates. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to be listening so intently. You were looking at him, really really looking at him. If Eddie didn’t know any better, and he liked to think that he did, you seemed to be actually interested in the world he was opening up up to you. 

His eyes glanced down at your cast, and the curly signature of Chrissy Cunningham shimmered slightly on the underside of your cast. Eddie could barely make out her last name, but he could assume that the glitter gel pen signature belonged to the cheerleader. 

That reminded Eddie that, popular or not, you were still in a completely different world than him. One where people actually liked you and didn’t sneer at you for bullshit reasons. 

But then why were you looking at him so intensely? 

“So you’re playing make believe with dice and if you roll high you can do things and if you roll low you eat shit.” You said, crumpling up your bag of chips. 

It was a grossly simplified explanation of the game that Eddie had poured hundreds of hours into. 

“Yeah, basically.” At least that had killed a good fifteen minutes. 

“And you’re god.” You added, which Eddie did appreciate. 

“No, I’m Satan, remember?” He flashed you his most charming smile and you just laughed again. 

“You aren’t that bad.” You sounded like you meant that. 

“Tell that to my players, they say I’m worse than Satan.” He said with pride. 

Your conversation was interrupted by the bell, announcing that any clubs needed to pack up and leave. Eddie took that as your cue that you were done. 

You closed the binder and the notes that you two had taken over the past hour and took a deep breath. 

“Wait, shit, Mrs. Benson left. What do we do with this?” You asked, motioning to the binder and rolodex. “Do we just leave it here?”

Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice about just dumping it on one of the tables and leaving. He still had his shift to get to, but... 

“Come on, we’ll drop it on her desk.” he said, and walked out of the lounge before you could protest. 

You caught up to him a moment later, glaring at him for ditching you and leaving you to scramble with your things. Eddie wasn’t sure if he liked you more when you looked like you were hanging on his every word or looking at him with annoyance. Maybe Eddie just wasn’t sure if he liked you. He sure couldn’t tell if you like him at all. 

“It’s locked.” you said. 

“Barely. Make sure no one’s coming.” Eddie squatted down and pulled out a thin strip of plastic from his coat. He could feel his eyes on him and he looked up at you as you gaped. “Not me, look out for anyone else.” he clarified. 

Once you had looked away and down the hall, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Eddie to jimmy the lock open. He grabbed the rolodex and the binder from you before you knew what was happening. 

Eddie had broken into the classroom, dropped the items off the desk, and slipped back out into the hallway in less than a minute. 

“How’d you learn to do that?” you asked, following him out towards the parking lot. 

Eddie just shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”

It was cool outside, the winter weather seemed to finally be on its way out. A small beep signaled you to the sleek car that Stacy drove and you waved at her. Being the good friend that she was, Stacy had offered to drive you home that night. 

“I guess, I’ll see you next week.” you said to Eddie. 

“Same bullshit time, same bullshit place.” he agreed, watching you hop into the car before heading off towards his own van and drive off. 

“Sooooo, how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date, it was school.”

“Did you make out in the teachers lounge?” 

“No, I gave him a hand job in the janitor's closet.”

“The one by the gym, or the one by the science lab.”

“The gym. Smelled worse but at least there weren’t any dangerous chemicals.” 

“No, really, tell me what happened.”

“We called different places to get quotes for Spring Day. He also talked about Dungeons and Dragons for fifteen minutes.”

“And then you made out?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to.” 

“....Stacy, I’ve never wanted to blow someone more in my entire life.”

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, I got so brain dead writing this. I really need to visit more of the source material. I love Eddie, but he just hasn't been talking to me much lately. Hopefully when Rise of Hellfire comes out it'll help lol

Tag List: 

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@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan

@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot

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@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

@amieinghigh @hazydespair

[hotwings0203]

"I swear, if she had just stayed with the group like a normal person would, she would've saved herself at least 30 more minutes of screentime," your friend says on the other side of the couch.

In retaliation, you playfully chuck a few kernels of popcorn at him and gesture wildly at the screen. "It's the classic bimbo trope! She's wearing a miniskirt and high heels in the forest for gods sake, it practically screams 'Murder me!' on her clothes."

You both squabble for a few minutes like this until the sound of violins coming from the t.v. cues you in for the next foreboding jumpscare. Both sets of eyes turn back to the dimly lit screen and lock in on the gore-fest about to unfold.

The main heroine cautiously creaks a door open in front of a tunnel and warbles out, "H-hello? Is anyone there?"

It's so cliche you could roll your eyes, but yet your heart is still pumping...

And your "friend's" body shifting a mere few inches away from you isn't helping the palpitations.

The two of you had been dancing around each other the past few months in some sort of premature courting method, the flirty remarks and jeers from your mutual friends egging you both on to seal the deal and admit your feelings for one another.

But, like every young romance blooms, the fear of wilt is just as strong.

And so you opt to get as close as you can to the real thing by being satisfied with his arm not-so-subtly thrown over the back of the couch , so softly playing with the ends of your hair so as to not disturb you.

You can barely focus though, as the girl on the screen inches closer to the end of tunnel, the boy behind you also creeps his other idle hand towards yours resting on the cushion.

It takes an incredible amount of effort to keep your breathing even and hands still as you watch from the corner of your eye as his veiny hands trail closer...his fingers outstretching towards yours...and...

Rrrriiinnngggg!

It's like a tidal wave comes crashing down as the woman on screen screams in tandem with your phone ringing.

You feign a groan as you shoot the disappointed man on your couch an apologetic wince, and try not to let your heart fall as he nods back with a barely understanding grimace. You round the couch and let the movie continue playing as you hit the green button and pick up the intruding call.

"Hello?" You snipe.

"Get rid of him."

For the second time in the night, your heart falters, but the former experience is something you'd beg for rather than this.

"H-how did you know someone's at my house?" Your voice drops to a shaky whisper and you throw a panicked glance into the living room to ensure that your lover/friend hasn't picked up on your tone. You duck into your bedroom and close the door slightly, your hands trembling as you do so.

The gravely voice on the other end chuckles, but the sound has anything but mirth in it.

"That's a funny way to phrase it sweetheart. Your question makes it seem as though I stopped keeping tabs on you."

A minute-long silence ensues after that, your mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water. There's no sound except for the low hum in the background of your living room, and your caller's shallow breaths on the other end of the line.

"You begged so nicely last time for me to leave you alone, even made it to the cops at one point. I granted you a shred of mercy, a bit of pity after the cops failed to take your report seriously- I mean, I don't blame them. Their time is precious, y'know? They've got bigger things to worry about than a dumb little girl whining about some invisible stalker jizzing all over her and her room when she sleeps," he snickers meanly at the sound of your choked gasps.

The taunting of your trauma is a slap to the face, a wound cut open again. You thought you got rid of this anonymous stalker a couple months back, you thought a police report and growing reclusive from your social life would dissuade any unwanted interactions from this psycho. You felt backed into a corner, dirty and ashamed as the threatening calls became more frequent. Love letters with ominous fluids coating the expanse of the papers started showing up at your front door when you changed your number. He'd attach polaroids of you in your undergarments, when you'd shower, when you'd cook, and so many other unassuming intimate domestic scenes in the envelope, and then when you couldn't take the terror anymore...it stopped.

The calls, the letters, the pictures, all of it...poof.

You had slowly started to hope that he had gotten bored of you and the lack of social life, lack of thrill in general at you losing your color.

With that hope, came bravery. Your friends started coming around again, the parties ensued, you switched your college class from virtual to in-person again, you even met the guy nestled comfortably on your couch currently.

"How many bodies did you think you could hide behind?"

The voice on the other end of the phone croons softly, but pulls you just as violently out of your dread.

"What do you want?" comes your shaky whisper, your fingers gripping the phone tighter in sync with your throat closing up.

"Ohhh sweetheart, now that's a loaded question. You and I have all the time in the world to uncover that, but your boy toy on the other hand..." His teasing lilt twists lower into something akin to a growl, and you can't help the whimper that escapes you.

You don't want to find out what his threat alludes to, or how serious he is.

Slow-burn romance be damned.

"J-just give me a few minutes-"

"Now."

Your teeth sink into your lips to hold back a frantic curse as you duck your head out the doorway to check on the living room.

He's still there, unassumingly checking his phone.

"Okay, okay. I-I'll tell him something came up, just dont-"

Your voice catches in your throat and you force yourself to swallow, taking in a deep breath at the sound of your stalker's pleased hum on the other end of the line.

"I'm watching you. Don't try to pull anything smart with me, unless you're eager to taste my blade in addition to my cock."

You blanch as the call ends, and try to quickly blink away tears of frustration. Wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts, you inhale deeply again before turning the knob and opening the door to the living room.

Rounding the couch, you softly pad your way to your lover and force the tense muscles in your back and arms to loosen, not wanting to give any indication that something's very, very wrong.

"Heyyy, you're back!" He drawls with a loose smile on his face. "Thought the movie scared you too bad and you ran off."

You force yourself to let out a faux chuckle and try to prevent your smile from looking too strained. He seems to unfortunately notice it though, because a crinkle appears between his brows and he sits up, tossing the phone in his hands aside.

"Woah, you okay? Did something happen?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that at all. Actually, this is really embarrassing but one of my girls called and I think she's blackout drunk at the bar near downtown, I gotta head out and pick her up. I had no idea I'd be on babysitter duty tonight, I'm so sorry," You frantically wave his concern off and try for another carefree laugh, but your shaking hands are a dead giveaway.

He stands up and grasps your hands tightly in his, the large and smooth planes of his palms enveloping yours before you can react. Your head spins as the realization of him touching you for the first time under these less-than-ideal conditions overwhelms you.

"Hey, y/n, look at me-no, look- you're okay, alright? It's no big deal, we can always finish the movie another time, seriously."

And before you can move back to save him, he leans forwards and pecks your cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second the door closes shut, your phone rings.

Your hand, still on the door handle, drifts up to your lips as you nibble on your nails haphazardly.

You're terrified to know the consequences you elicited. You don't wanna pick up.

And yet, you know if you don't, he's capable of so much worse.

Your thumb slides on the green button when his voice breaks through the call with barely-concealed rage, the waver of fury coating his venom as he spits, "He touched you. He kissed you."

"I tried to back away! I tried to-"

"And I tried playing nice, but looks like we both failed each other, huh?"

The excuse dies in your throat as his hiss overpowers yours.

"I should carve his fucking lips out for touching whats mine," he continues after a beat, an incredulous and ragged laugh erupting from the other end of the call, making you wince.

"It would be so easy to get rid of him too. That shitty little apartment he scrimps and saves for at his 9-5 hasn't changed the locks in the complex for years now, he walks solely at night with his earbuds in, his bones would be so easy to break-"

"Please don't hurt him," you finally break his monologue with a sob of your own, unable to fathom being the reason why your lover would suffer such sinister endings. You throw your hand over your mouth to prevent him from hearing you cry and your legs give out from their mindless, panicked pacing around the house. The soft duvet comforters of your bed provide ample cushion for the fall, but not enough to swallow you whole and hide you from his inevitable wrath.

Your stalker pauses as he listens to your muffled cries, your skin prickling as he lets out a ragged moan at no doubt your misery. You can hear the sound of rustling clothes and a belt buckle hitting a floor of some sort.

"Are you scared pretty girl? Are you scared I'm gonna hurt you, or him?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"You should be."

The call drops, but you dont move for what seems like hours.

Your body feels like stone as you eventually burrow under your covers, mountains of stress weighing you down heavier than the blankets and pillows you use as meager protection. All the doors in your apartment are locked, the windows bolted shut, the knives taken out and placed under your bed, and your phone fully charged.

And yet, you might as well have been naked for the lack of protection you feel as the clock strikes past 1am. You jump every time the branches outside your windows smack the glass, and grip the edges of your covers tighter at the slightest creak from your aged abode.

You're curled in fetal position, tense and alert, ready to call 911 at a moments notice. You wont, you can't let him get to you, mentally or physically.

But eventually your body fails you as you drift off to sleep, the adrenaline high wearing off and lulling you into an exhausted state of rest.

You only awaken when you hear his voice.

"Hereeee kitty kitty"

Body locking up before your mind is fully aware, you freeze under the duvet as you see his silhouette from under the opaque material.

He's merely a few feet away from you, leering over your lumpy form.

Your eyes dart to where your door is, and you can make out the shape of it being opened.

How the ever-loving fuck did he get in?

You can't move, you cant blink, you cant even breathe as he inches closer to you, settling to perch by your feet.

He chuckles and snakes his lithe fingers from underneath your comforters, trailing up your feet up to your ankle, letting his offensive touch rest there as a faux show of affection.

"You're like a present underneath those blankets."

You let out a shaky whimper and tense up even more as he leans in, the dark shape of his head right over your face.

"Does the little slut want me to unwrap her? I think i've won my prize fair and square."

The hand on your ankle moves up to your calves, then your knees, all the while you start to squirm and wrestle against his hold.

He laughs lightly with sick glee as his hold on you tightens, allowing himself to indulge momentarily as one of his hands shoves itself between the apex of your covered thighs, the other squeezing and pinching up your torso to any part of you that he deems soft enough.

You both writhe like this for a minute or two while you fight for air underneath the increasingly-stuffy covers, and you know he's reveling at your losing battle.

Eventually he must get tired of playing with you, because you feel the bed dip and shift as he climbs on top and straddles you. As a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, you throw the blankets off, exposing yourself to him. You try to scramble away after dislodging him, but he's too fast. He grabs you by the neck and slams you down against the bed with a snarl, his hair mussed and disheveled as his hands encircle tighter around your throat. Adrenaline courses through you along with the blood pounding your head as you try to scratch at his face. The harder you fight, the tighter he squeezes, and through the black spots in your vision you can see his salacious grin, his hair falling over his face and barely concealing the victorious and manic look in his eyes.

You feel his skin pile up under your fingernails as you rake down a particularly soft side of his cheek, but instead of him drawing back, he fucking moans as blood blooms through the new cut.

He feels you hesitate for a split second in your awed disgust, and uses the momentary reprieve to rock his hips against your clothed mound.

You gasp feels like its ripped out of you all the while he shakes with tension and laughter.

He feels high off the mix of fear and disgust at your body reacting to his ministrations.

You thrash like a fish out of water in his hold, your desperation a sick contrast to the firm and controlled motion of his body eliciting responses out of you that you never wanted to give to him of all people.

"Fuuckkkk, thats it baby, just give in," he croons and shushes the sound of you choking. A shudder passes through him as he feels your throat constrict under his unrelenting hold, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he thrusts again into you.

He must hit a good spot, because he feels your legs twitch. To reward you for reacting to his touch, he lets up ever so slightly on your abused throat, and opts to duck his head down and replace his hands with his mouth.

The whole ordeal can't have been going on for more than a couple minutes, but it feels like your overstimulation has been lasting eons. You feel the adrenaline crashing down, your defenses rendered useless as he uses both his hands to envelope your own and lace his fingertips with yours, bringing both your intertwined hands up next to either side of your head. He locks your legs under his, ensuring that you can't wiggle out of his grasp, and lifts his head up slightly off your neck from the galaxy-covered hickies he left on the empty planes of your neck to look at you properly.

No makeup, bared open and vulnerable for him, hair looking like a rat's nest from the struggle, neck littered in violent splotches of blue, purple, and reds, lips bloated and shiny from tears trespassing down the planes of your face and down your chin. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, he feels your body tremble as you fight off the waves of exhaustion threatening to capsize your efforts. Your eyes, teary and bloodshot, ensnare him most of all. He feels as out of breath as you as he gazes lovingly, sickeningly down at you with unread emotions.

Love, hate, defiance, disgust, fear.

To him, you look ethereal.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he whispers, pulling one hand out of your own to gently move strands of hair out of your face to see you better. He bites back a frustrated growl as you flinch and turn your head to the side, burrowing as much of your face into the pillow as you can. You don't want to see or hear him gloat, you just want him to take what he came here for and to leave you the fuck alone.

"Stop fucking-no, look at me," the hand that ever-so gently caressed your hair hardens as his entire hand grabs the lower half of your face to face him.

You try to mumble something out, but his invading hand covers your mouth. He doesn't seem keen on moving it or hearing what you have to say from the way he merely presses harder against your ajar lips.

"I can fulfill you better than that wimpy fuck could ever dream," he hisses, leering over you. Your muted scowl doesn't phase him as he continues, "And you don't need friends anyways. I'm enough for you. I'll take care of all your needs, financially, emotionally, and physically."

At this, he presses his hips right into your cunt, and holds his body there, groaning at the way you pulse for him even under the layers of clothing.

You squeal and try to squirm, but your displeasure proved moot as he uses a free hand to slither under the waistband of your short and dip lower.

This brings around another round of muffled screaming, your back arching as his fingers dance over your soft mound, finally claiming his prize and swiping his digits through your lips.

He makes sure you watch as he brings his fingers back up to his mouth and licks them clean, moaning and closing his eyes in bliss as he does so. Your horror is practically palpable as you freeze at the bizarre show, the violation leaving you speechless.

"You should have told me you were enjoying this, you fuckin' brat," he scoffs and wipes his spit-covered fingers across your cheek, chuckling as you scream in rage.

"Had I known you wanted to play rough like this from the start I would've fucked you raw in front of all your little friends."

He leans in, savoring your terror.

"After all, all a brat like you needs is a fat, hard cock stuffing her widdle pussy until she breaks."

He uses your frozen state to flip your entire body over with one hand, immediately closing in on you and covering your prone body with his own. One hand braces dangerously close next to your face to balance himself as he uses the other to grab a fistful of your locks and pull back, craning your head to meet his eyes once again.

Your back and stomach shake with the effort of holding yourself up in this painful and awkward position, and his hips slot themselves against your backside as if it was their rightful place.

He's not lying, you realize with dread as you can feel his thick and hard imprint nestle between your asscheeks, your shorts riding up in the process.

"But don't worry," he pants as he pulls aside your shorts and panties and begins thrusting himself up and down your wet slit, all the way up to your ass, making careful sure to tap his tip against your clit a couple times, making you jerk and whimper at the buzzing sensation.

"I'm not letting you go anytime soon. We have the rest of our lives to break you and put your pieces back together," he bites your earlobe as he hisses the promise, moaning loudly in your ear as he lets his tip indulge in your entrance, barely pulling back and pushing in inch by inch.

You wince and try to move your body forwards to escape the inevitable, but he twists your supporting arm behind your back painfully and lets your head fall back on the pillow in defeat with a hoarse sob.

"You're fucking mine."

[pomefioredove]

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"

[rustedhearts]

the one where you forget to call boxer!steve when he’s away for a fight and he freaks out (flashback, 1989)…

tags: jealous/possessive!steve (what's new), they're both just egging each other on lol, ending is lame because I just wanted to finish this el oh el.

rolly's blurbs

. • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• . • ☆ . ° .• °.

“this is libby! sorry, i can’t come to the phone right now—“

“fuck.” steve slams the phone back into the cradle and scrapes his nails over his scalp.

it’s the seventh call he’s made tonight. seventh. when the alarm clock on the motel nightstand flashed 8:00, he eagerly turned toward the phone and watched through pulsing, bloodshot eyes—waiting for it to ring.

8:05.

8:10.

8:30.

you never called.

so he called. once, twice, seven fucking times. the third had his blood boiling, but the seventh is sending him up the fucking walls.

steve pushes off the edge of the quilted bed and heads toward the bathroom. the lights are harsh and have an orange hue, and he glares at the bruised and bloodied reflection in the cracked mirror. he didn’t even bother cleaning up after his fight, too excited to speak to you and hear all about your day at the library or about town.

it was the first time you hadn’t called at your agreed time since he left. and now it worried him. did you not want him anymore? did you find someone else while he’s been away? did he do something to upset you? were you with another man right now?

the thought alone has the mirror fogging, and steve blinks hard to clear it. but the anger boiling and bubbling in his chest is harder to make disappear.

the speedstick on the bathroom counter flies across the room and steve barely even remembers throwing it. nor can he recall his knuckles slamming into the tile, but the ache that gathers in them afterwards is enough of a reminder.

his shuddering breaths echo through the bathroom like a cold front.

and then the phone rings. shrilling through the suffocating room at a deafening pitch.

steve’s quick to his feet, snatching the phone from the cradle with fumbling fingers.

“hello—“

“hi, honey. sorry i didn’t—“

he sinks down onto the edge of the bed. “where the fuck have you been?”

a pause buzzes through the phone. in your bedroom back home, you frown down at your knees. still wearing your dress from today, shoes barely shucked off on the carpet.

“sorry, i…holly wanted to grab dinner after work and we…just lost track of time,” you coo. your fingers twist at the ruffled hem of your comforter anxiously.

you hear him huff through his nose. the line buzzes again. your feet are aching beneath you, and as you picture yourself and holly sitting under the dim lighting of the hide away’s sticky, peanut-shelled tables, a warmth comes to your face.

would steve be upset if he knew? if he knew you’d gone to the bar with your friend in only your tiny work dress? you ran your hand over the hem. it was one he likes, at least. pleated, navy blue, buttoned down the front.

“just holly?” he asks.

you nod, nibbling on the skin around your nail. “yeah, just holly. dad’s teaching nick how to drive with my car so holly gave me a ride, and we were hungry so…”

over explaining came easy with steve. it was better to lay it all out at one time than have him question later.

in his motel room, steve bounces his leg so quickly that the bed shrieks.

“okay,” he mumbles, nodding to himself. “okay…was just worried, baby.”

“i’m sorry,” you chirp through the phone. your voice went up real high when you felt bad.

steve scratches at his temple. “s’ okay, baby. uh…is holly there with you?”

he listens to you shuffle for a minute. “um…no? wh—why would she be here?”

he shuffles. a heavy breath crackles through the receiver and you wince.

“i don’t know.”

suspicion hangs heavily between his words. you wrinkle your nose up, the touch on your comforter turning harsh. your nails zip over the pink cotton.

and maybe you're fueled by the vodka cranberries, or the good time with your friend that deflated the moment you picked up the phone. sometimes being with steve felt like turning music off halfway through a song. like reaching to take the next step only to find you're chained back.

"you think i have some guy in my room, steve?" you snarl.

on his hotel bed with the hard springs and faded quilt, steve mirrors your snarling scowl. his teeth scrape the receiver pressed beside his mouth.

"well now i fuckin' do."

"jesus," you scoff. "you're ridiculous—"

"am i?—"

"yeah! you know i'd never do that to you!"

steve grinds his nails into the top of his scalp, buried under the heap of hair. his eyes bounce to the deodorant near the bathroom door, lid cracked off and half broken. another hum fills the silence on the line.

"you really don't trust me?" you're much quieter this time. softer. there's a sleepy defeat in your voice that makes steve squeeze his eyes shut and sigh.

"I don't know," tumbles from his mouth before he can snuff it out with a lie.

you scoff again. "whatever. I went out drinking with holly, is that what you want to hear?"

steve's eyes pop open, narrowed in on the deodorant and the ugly hotel carpet again. "so you lied."

"yeah, so what? so fucking what, steve? you're a thousand miles away, doing god knows what, with god knows who, and i have a life!"

steve rips the phone away from his ear, holding it with a tight fist at his knee. gives it a little shake, veins bulging in his forearm. he can hear you squawking on the line like a peanuts character, muffled and high-pitched. he's seen red many times in his life, but something about this rage is oddly pink. fueled by romance and lust and longing and his ache for you.

love curdles when it intertwines with rage.

"'doing god knows what?'" steve brings the phone back to his ear, pushing to his feet. "then you don't trust me, either! you think I'm out here fuckin' girls like groupies?"

"well, we all knew who you were before me—"

"fuckin—"

steve's first instinct is to throw the phone. but big's already told him they can't afford to replace another one, and then he won't have a way to call you back and finish this. so, he spins sharply on one heel and places a heavy palm against the wallpaper. he doesn't want to break that, either. he can't afford his own anger sometimes.

"i'm glad to hear we have so much faith in each other, sweetheart."

his voice drips with such malice that you actually flinch. back into the pillows, gripping a heart-shaped frilly puff like a teddy bear. some sort of comfort, because despite all your anger-laced words strewn through the telephone, you were throbbing with hurt.

you just missed him. in fact, you spent the whole night whining about it to holly, who plied you with more vodka cranberries in hopes it would fog you up so bad, you'd forget all about steve. it only made you ache for him more.

"well..." you whisper, toying with your bottom lip. if steve were in the room, he'd instantly know what the gesture meant. tears bubbled at your lash line in a warm, stinging assault.

"i'm going to bed, before we both say something we might regret."

"no, don't fuckin' hang up," he groans, collapsing on the corner of the bed again. "you know i'm not fuckin' anyone out here. or anywhere for that matter, jesus."

"well why would you think i am?" the harshness of your voice congeals into something whiny and pathetic.

steve rubs his finger into his eye, leg bouncing again. "i don't know—i-i don't. just...don't even want anyone even lookin' at you. i hate not being right there with you."

his own fist comes sailing down into his thigh. his expression of pain releases with a long huff and a scrunched nose.

"I know. but you know i don't even care about anyone else."

steve bounces his leg a little faster to offset the throbbing in his thigh muscle, swallowing thickly. "y-yeah."

you sigh, sliding down against the pillows. "i'm sorry i lied."

he nods, resting his knuckles on his leg. "I know, baby. just...fuck, you know? want you here."

you smile at that, curling your arm tighter around your pillow. "you miss me, champ?"

steve huffs a chuckle, shaking his head at his lap. "yeah, angel, i miss you."

the statement alone causes you to wriggle and your hand to creep toward the hem of your dress.

"you drive me fuckin' crazy."

that night, you make very good use of the telephone.

[viiennie]

𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

chapter one

Tags and warnings: Zombie Apocalypse, mentions of gore (including blood and death), slight angst (?), spoilers to ‘Happiness’, eventual smut, female reader, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, lovey dovey sex in the midst of a literal lock down, masturbation, slow burn kinda?, fluff, romance, drugs, manipulation, exhibition, gojo is a pervertttttt, mdni — 18+, enemies to lovers word count: 4093

You never thought that at the ripe age of 29, you’d be taking walks for the sole purpose of hoping to find dropped money on the road. 

Hey, You can’t be blamed now, can you? Life is completely unpredictable, and you’re just glad you at least have an apartment to sleep in and a job that pays kinda enough. But what can you do when the bills are still high, and you still got a loan to settle? Your salary barely covers your living expenses, and you’ve got those damn loan sharks to be worrying about to add to the list. 

You always thought life would go well after graduating Criminology and getting a job in the military. To top it all off, you climbed the ranks and secured a respectable position without getting your hands dirty. Back then, you lived on the tallest floor of your dream apartment and bought all your dream cars to drive and wake the neighbors with.

It was the sweetest life had gotten. 

If only you didnt—

Riiiiiing!

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the lights flashing as the name of your boss along with the picture of a very stern looking pig pops up on screen. You sigh, staring at it and pondering if you should answer the call. Your finger hovers over the green logo, a hesitation in the twitch of your digits as you debate missing the call and getting a handful of scolding when you go to work or answering and getting the same amount of scolding for something stupid you probably did while on the job. 

Another sigh leaves your lips when you decide to answer.

“There’s a job for you. I emailed all the details to you.”

He hangs up, not even bothering to hear a response from you. 

God, he’s always like that. Acting like some VIP, treating everyone else like they were below him. Countless times have you slapped the shit out of him in your dreams, and countless times have you hurled curses at him behind his back. Why’s there always a stick up his ass anyway?

You open the pdf file in your email, groaning at the 42 pages you have to read over. 

You work as a bodyguard now, the only place that didn’t blacklist you being an executive protection services company. Your job was to make sure your clients stayed out of harm's way, and so far, it’s been an absolute piece of cake compared to your previous occupation. You just had to stand behind them, look intimidating, and keep that up for the rest of the day.

As you skim over the file, you realize that this was the typical case of a nepo baby being rebellious whilst getting neglected by their parents. It was always, ‘I just can’t seem to control my teenager’ ‘He gets out of hand and always ends up almost killing himself.’ but they have never considered the fact that they’ve barely present in their child’s life?

Your duties consisted of absurd things, like cooking and making meals for the client, ensuring he does not leave the house, and even doing the laundry. A rise of annoyance boils in you as you continue to read down your responsibilities—things that nannies would do. If they wanted to hire one then they should’ve contacted someone else, not a body guarding company. Besides, why was this task assigned to you and not someone more qualified? You don’t ever remember putting ‘experienced nanny’ in your resume. 

No. You’re not doing this. You had your pride to—

Total Salary: 15,000,000 ₩ per day.

Well, it’s not like taking care of a child is that hard right? Besides, you do these so-called duties everyday for yourself! Not like adding an extra pair of clothes to the washing machine or cooking for two would be that hard. And! you get to sleep in a million dollar penthouse for three whole days, who wouldn’t miss that offer? And the living expenses are covered by your client too? Man, the pros are really outweighing the cons right now. 

You carefully read through the pages, scanning over the personal details of your new beloved client.

Full Name: Gojo Satoru

Birthday: 1994 December 7

Age: 28

Gender: Male

You blink

Once, twice, and then thrice.

Are you seeing this right?

The person you’re going to be babysitting is in fact not a little boy, but a grown ass man at the ripe age of 28? The person you’re going to be cooking and cleaning for is a grown adult capable of doing these daily chores with all of his four limbs intact? This couldn’t possibly be right, could it? You shake your head, scrolling back to look at the delicious view of the 15 million displayed on your phone screen. So what if it was a grown man? That means you wouldn’t have to be too worried about buying toddler food and all that, right? And him being an adult means he’s perfectly capable of doing his own chores, meaning, less work for you! 

Yeah, that’s right.

Things don’t have to be negative.

You inhale, gathering your thoughts and prayers, hoping this wasn’t about to be the worst decision of your life. No way it will be. It’s just for three short days anyway. And what if you actually end up getting along well with the guy?

Day One

Standing before these grand doors bring back memories you never liked. It reminded you of what you used to be—what kind of glory you used to hold. The keys in your palms feel cold, like ice that doesn’t melt despite the warmth your skin radiates. It feels illegal entering someone’s home without knocking— it's like you’re trespassing. But what can you do when those are your instructions?

The door to the penthouse swings open, the sound echoing through the spacious hall. The moment you step inside, the air feels different—cool, fresh, like everything in this space was designed with immaculate precision. You take a second to absorb the layout: sleek, minimalistic furniture, modern art pieces hanging from the walls, soft ambient lighting, and large glass windows that offer a wonderful view of the city. It’s everything you’d expect from a man who has money to burn but little else to do with it. It’s also everything you’ve ever wanted ever since falling into this pit of poverty.

You take another step in, and the door closes behind you with a soft click—a sound that tells you you’ve just sealed your fate. You take a deep breath in, to prepare your beating heart, and exhale, reminding yourself that you’re here now, and that this is really happening. 

“Hello?” you call out, your voice carrying a bit farther than you intended in the vast silence. You wait for a response, but there’s nothing but an eerie stillness. You feel awkward in this large space, your senses used to the small cozy apartment you lived in. You feel like a misplaced object here, like a piece of banana peel in the middle of a diamond sea. 

Then, suddenly, you hear a loud thud from what sounds like the far side of the apartment, followed by a burst of laughter. It’s carefree and youthful, almost too much so for someone who’s supposed to be the CEO’s son. Your eyes narrow as you start walking further into the apartment, your boots clicking sharply against the polished floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!" The voice calls out lazily, not even bothering to sound apologetic.

You stop in your tracks as a figure finally appears at the threshold of what you assume is the study. Satoru Gojo strides out, looking like he couldn’t care less about your presence. His white hair is slightly messy, falling carelessly over his forehead, and he’s dressed casually in a loose-fitting white shirt and black pants, the kind of outfit someone of his status might wear to keep things comfortable while still looking polished. You stare at him for a moment, noting how his playful, almost mischievous grin makes him seem like someone who hasn’t taken a single thing seriously in his life. Maybe this is why they told you to just walk in without warning. This guy didn’t even bother standing up the moment he heard someone entering his home.

“So, you’re the new babysitter?” His tone is light, amused, and you can already tell he’s not taking this job seriously at all. He doesn’t even bother to get off the couch, merely reclining with his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I thought they’d send someone with a little more... personality.”

Your lips press into a tight line, frustration rising in your chest. This was the guy you were supposed to be protecting? It was a far cry from what you had imagined. It’s okay! You expected this. I mean, the pay wouldn’t be 15 million for no reason right? All you had to do was endure this asshat for 3 days, and you’d be out, never having to do it again with the amount of money you’ll accumulate by then. 

“I’m not your babysitter, Gojo,” you reply flatly, setting the file down on the coffee table between you. “I’m here to ensure you stay out of trouble for the next three days.”

He doesn’t seem fazed, however. He tilts his head back and stretches his arms over his head with a casual ease that only someone with his kind of wealth and status could pull off. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so serious all the time, miss. Relax a little. This doesn’t have to be a hard job, does it?” 

You nod, a small, twitching smile on your lips. Yeah, this doesn’t have to be hard for the two of you, just don’t let yourself be absorbed into his insufferableness, and things will be all fine and dandy.

The smile on his face never fades, though there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you realize he’s enjoying the tension between you more than he should. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you with a look that borders on teasing. “Don’t worry miss bodyguard, I’ll make sure to cooperate extra well for you,” he says, his voice oozing with mock sincerity.

Gojo’s eyes flicker with curiosity for a brief moment before his grin turns more knowing. You were far from what he expected. When his father told him he’d be hiring professionals to keep him in check, he was expecting a middle aged old grump with a tragic backstory, not an angry little kitten that was his age. 

You take a deep breath, keeping your cool. You’re a professional. You endured 4 years of brutal training, and spent the next 5 years being an active soldier, one man child isn’t gonna break you. “Where do we start?”

“Start?” Gojo repeats, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. “I’ll give you a tour of the place. Get settled in, and we’ll figure things out from there.” All of a sudden, he’s all buddy-buddy and normal, standing from his seat with a groan that tells you it’s the first time in a few long hours he’s standing from that couch.

“Okay,” you mutter, though you know the last thing you need is to be stuck following him around all day. But you have no choice now—this is the job you so happily accepted. Perhaps you just had a bad first impression, right? Maybe this is just his personality and he’s actually a nice guy under all that ego!

Gojo leads you through the penthouse with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, his movements exaggerated for your benefit. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, like he’s analyzing you as much as you’re analyzing him. He talks non-stop, making sarcastic comments here and there, each one more annoying than the last, and you keep your responses short but interactive. Last thing you wanna hear is him whining about you being a cold person. 

When you finally arrive at the guest room, he gestures dramatically to the sleek, modern decor. “There you go. It’s not much, but it’ll do for the next ten days. I hope you like the view,” he adds, pulling back the heavy curtain to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline, one you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. 

You take a step inside, but before you can say anything, Gojo’s already made his way back to the living room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

As you stand there, staring at the sprawling apartment, you feel a strange tension in the air. You’ve dealt with dangerous situations, but this—this was something else. This penthouse may be the safest area in the entire apartment complex, but there’s something in here that greatly unsettles you, that what’s dangerous isn’t outside of this place, but inside. Your eyes linger on the door that your manchild is behind and you finally realize how hard your heart is thumping against your chest. 

It’s Gojo.

Gojo’s the dangerous one here. 

Shaking your head, you set down your bags, neatly placing them against the door before you pull out your phone to check if there were any updates from your boss—any additional information or duties perhaps, but your notification bar is empty. (thankfully)

Ding!

Omg, have you heard about the attack at the training center?

You raise an eyebrow at the text you received from a friend that was followed by a 10 second video she sends. The thumbnail sends chills down your spine, the image of an unsettling trainee with bloodshot eyes and protruding veins being the first thing you see. He has blood dripping down his chin, his teeth stained with a deep red. There's no possible way that was real. This is probably a prank, right?

As you play the video, you realize the unmoving body in the background with blood pooling around it isn't a prank. Neither is the way the zombie thing continues to bang its head against the glass part of the door where the cameraman stands behind. You can hear people screaming in the background and the labored breathes of the person holding the camera.

What the fuck?

For this type of thing to happen in a military training center is unheard of. With the amount of security and the amount of trained professionals around, they would shoot at the sight of suspicious movement. Perhaps that trainee was infected in the facility itself?

You sigh, shaking your head. That wasn't for you to worry about. You're sure they've already taken care of the situation, making sure no one else would be harmed after one casualty. Besides, you weren't even in the military anymore, so what business did you have with all this?

You lock your phone and toss it onto the counter with a bit more force than intended, the dull clatter echoing in your quiet apartment. For a moment, you stand there, staring at the blank wall in front of you, the disturbing video replaying itself in your mind despite your best efforts to shake it off. It was none of your business, you remind yourself. You weren't a part of that world anymore—no chain of command, no classified briefings, no need to carry the weight of threats on your shoulders.

Still, the unease lingers like an itch you can't quite scratch. The image of that bloodied trainee and the helpless body in the background refuses to leave your thoughts, clawing its way into the forefront no matter how hard you try to shove it back. The screams and the clattering of rushes footsteps ring in your ears like a broken radio.

“Snap out of it,” you mutter to yourself, dragging a hand through your hair. Standing still wasn’t helping. Maybe you just needed to clear your head, step outside for a bit and distract yourself with something mundane. Groceries. That was the perfect excuse to leave this place. And besides, it would help to restock in the case that a zombie apocalypse would really break out soon.

Opening the door, you’re surprised to see Gojo sitting in the living room, manspread as he switches through the channels with a bored look on his face. His eyes glaze over to you, a grin stretches through his lips. “Out so soon? I know my face is irresistible, but you barely spent 5 minutes in there, miss bodyguard.” As soon as he opens his mouth, it’s like flies are flocking over to him. You push aside the feeling of annoyance, not wanting to waste energy on him. 

“I’m going out to buy groceries. Is there anything you want?” You sigh for the fifth time today, hand resting on the doorknob of the front door. 

“Anything sweet pleaseee” He hums sending you a wink that has you cringing before focusing back on the TV.

Nodding, you make sure the credit card provided to you is safe in your pocket before heading out. You’re greeted by a kind cleaning lady who smiles at you with fondness, “My, I didn’t know such a pretty young lady lived here!” Her voice is soft, reminding you of your grandmother whom you dearly miss. You smile back at her, feeling yourself relax in her presence, “I’m not moving in, auntie. Just staying with a friend for a few days.”

“Oh my, that’s a shame. I would have loved to see you everyday!”

You chuckle at her response, politely saying goodbye before stepping into the empty elevator. 

Whilst you were out on a grocery store run, Gojo shuts off the TV, a serious expression overturning his previously cheerful one. He was getting sick and tired of his father hiring these people to watch over him like he was a child. Being a detective was a step he took to free himself from the chains of being born into his family, a step he took to rebel against his unreasonable father, who was a businessman obsessed with continuing his legacy, he didn't expect the price he had to pay would be getting house arrested by his father in his own home with some stranger.

He hops off of the couch, walking over to your room and opening the door without a care in the world. He snoops through your things, looking through your identification cards, opening all the pockets in your bag. He’s surprised when he discovers an ID tucked away in the deepest depths of your bag, as if you didn't want to see it but kept it with you because you didn't want to let go.

​​Gojo's fingers brush against the smooth, metallic edge of the card as he pulls it out of the hidden pocket in your bag. The ID feels substantial in his hands, heavier than an ordinary card, exuding an air of authority and importance. He almost feels guilty snooping around like this.

The front of the card is dominated by a sleek, black matte finish that absorbs light, giving it a tactical, almost stealth-like appearance. At the top, bold silver letters gleam against the dark background:

“13th Special Mission Brigade”

Below that, a faint watermark of the Decapitation Unit’s insignia—a black panther—catches the light at certain angles, visible only upon close inspection. 

Your photograph occupies the upper-left corner, a stern, no-nonsense expression on your face. You wear your ceremonial full dress uniform, badges of what you've done and where you've been displayed onto the clean cloth. Next to the photo, your name is printed in capital letters, the font crisp and official: 

Y/N L/N

Lieutenant Colonel, Decapitation Unit

Beneath your name, your serial number and rank are listed in smaller, but equally precise text, alongside a QR code that has been scratched out, an occurrence that happens only if you've been discharged from duty.

The right side of the card displays the unit's motto in embossed silver script:  

Silence in Action, Swift in Justice.

Just below the motto is a small holographic seal that shifts between the South Korean flag and the emblem of the Decapitation Unit, further verifying its authenticity that Gojo was most definitely not doubting at this point. Around the edges, faintly visible microtext runs continuously, forming a border of tiny but legible words repeating:  

For honor, for country, for the safety of all.

On the back, the design is equally meticulous. The background is a faint camouflage pattern in shades of gray and black, with a magnetic stripe running across the top. Centered in bold red letters is a warning:  

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: This card must be presented upon request. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

Beneath it, a small, clear rectangular panel reveals an embedded fingerprint that has also been scratched out by a blade. The rest of the back contains rows of text detailing clearance levels, blood type, and emergency contact information.

Gojo turns the card over in his hands, raising an eyebrow. "So, former Lieutenant Colonel, huh?" he murmurs to himself, a mix of admiration and suspicion flickering in his eyes. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he slipped the card back where he found it, making sure to tuck it away with the same care. 

“Guess you’re not as simple as you seem, miss bodyguard,” he mutters, stepping out of your room. The gears in his mind are already turning, trying to piece together just how someone with your past ended up here, protecting him.

The buzzing of your phone on the bedside table catching his attention, the constant dings sending a mix of irritance and curiosity through him. Well, he’s already touched all your things, what more was a phone? He takes the phone in his hands, testing his luck by typing 12345 in. He face palms when your phone opens, wondering why a special forces agent would set a password like that on her phone. He opens the chat that’s been spamming you, skimming over the ‘y/n stop ignoring meee’ ‘i know you’re seeing this’ and the random emojis being sent. 

A video with the thumbnail equivalent to a zombie horror movie garners his attention, his finger tapping the play button without much thought, thinking he’d be watching some kind of trailer to an upcoming film. But he’s met with a gruesome sight, the same thing you had watched before leaving. His eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend the scene.

Then he’s reminded of a recent case he investigated before being locked in this penthouse by his father. It was manslaughter, with the victim being the front desk worker of a motel. The crime scene was gruesome—bite marks and ripped flesh along the neck of the man. They had originally thought the perpetrator fled from the scene, but as he scanned the room, he discovered the motherfucker hiding under the bed, his mouth still dripping with blood. “I don’t remember much of what happened.” He said as they interrogated him on the scene, “I just took this drug, and before I knew it, I kinda blacked out.” 

He had originally thought it was a classic case of reckless manslaughter under the influence of illegal narcotics because the perpetrator seemed perfectly human. No bloodshot eyes and no visible veins like in the video he watched. 

Perhaps they were completely unrelated. 

He’s about to erase all evidence of him snooping around your phone until the last message your friend sends makes him pause.

‘They say he returned to normal when he was transported into the vehicle, that’s so freaky!’ 

Okay, they’re definitely related.

He puts your phone back on the table, rushing to his room where he opens his drawer and removes the hidden compartment that contained a capsule he found in the crime scene of the motel safely sealed in a tiny ziplock bag. It’s clear blue with a shine around the edges. He opens his laptop, entering the police force search engine and encoding his badge number before surfing the net for information about a blue capsule drug. 

The most similar one in appearance is a treatment drug for pneumonia called, ‘Next’. It had failed due to the fact that it was mutagenic, meaning it had the chance of mutating human DNA. 

It didn’t take a lot of brain cells to conclude that this drug was probably the cause for the odd series of events. Judging from the way an apocalypse hasn’t started and he doesn’t hear people screaming for their lives, then the military probably has this disease under control. Just when he’s about to sigh from relief, he hears a loud thud from the hallway of his apartment building, followed by three more before an eerie silence deafens him. He has half the mind to check outside, but he knows that’s probably the last thing he wants to do. The amount of horror movies he’s binge watched tells him that the first to die is always the one to check whatever’s going on.

Then his front door opens. 

“(y/n)...?” He calls out, goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Gojo, stay in your room.”

He’s not sure why, but he’s relieved it’s you who walked through that door, and not some flesh eating monster.

a/n: first chapter outtt yaaayyyyy!!!! kinda scared for this series bc the premiere didnt get a lot of attention😞 anyway!! hope u guys enjoyed this chapter💖

taglist: @atomicweaselpaperapricot @boothillglazer