#and in second place is wet mud on my hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingsoowolves · 2 months ago

Text

what comes after | jsc

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.6k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers – now mud covered and wet – in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece – hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks – through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

��Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too.

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year – which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it – you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach – your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship – if it even can be called that – is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it – every time, without fail – you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think – you feel – like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple.

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says.

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either.

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint yeah before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like-”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear – once again, his clothes – and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it.

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin.

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?�� You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

“I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think – makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex – the smell of both of you together – invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

He was not being gentle and kind and pampering you for you. He wasn’t gazing deeply into your eyes and showering you with kisses and beautiful words because he likes you. He was doing it to savor his last time fucking you before he turned another woman into his girlfriend. It was all because he’s discarding you.

He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you’d saw him around campus with his new bae and get the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat, his words giving you whiplash. You feel dizzy and cold like you were dropped on icy water. If you kept walking outside in the rain, it wouldn’t feel as bitter as this.

Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition of Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone.

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my ask box. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

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lunitawrites · 8 months ago

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Heavy Rain - a Joel Miller one shot

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: explicit

summary: It´s been raining for weeks when Joel finds you curled up on his couch.

warnings: reader struggles with mental health (please note that this is not based on any scientific diagnosis of a mental illness, it is coming from my experience struggling with my own mental health), crying, smut (PiV), heavy emotions

a/n: This is for @undercoverpena´s April Showers Challenge. You can find the rest of the works under the #UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge tag.

word count: 850

The rain feels heavy on Joel's shoulders as he arrives home that evening. It's not unusual for the Texan spring to be this wet, but this time the rain stretches over weeks, painting the blue spring skies grey, soaking the dusty terrain until it turns into mud under his shoes.

His house is cold, almost feels damp as the walls soak up the never-ending rain. You are lying on his couch, only lit by the fluorescent light of the muted TV, displaying commercials, long forgotten by its audience.

He can hear your quiet sobs from across the room. He knows you noticed him, but you don´t turn, just pull your blanket tighter around your chin. He walks then, slow steps towards you, seemingly afraid that he might startle you if he moves faster.

You are silent now as the back of his knuckles brush on your cheeks. I know, he whispers into the darkness, not even sure if you can hear him.

He goes into the kitchen then, quietly closing the door behind him, when he is sure it won't bother you, he flicks on the lights. Half eaten cereal and a bottle of wine, only missing a glass from the burgundy liquid. Your journal lies open on the dinner table, its pages blank. He closes that first and then slowly and meticulously puts everything in order. He heats up soup from the freezer, puts on a kettle of water to boil.

When the kitchen is in order, he puts the soup and mint tea on a tray and returns to the living room. He places it on the coffee table in front of you. You open your eyes and give him the faintest of your smiles. A smile almost just to mask your lips trying to curl down, your eyes ready to cry. You sit up, the material of the blanket bunching around your waist, revealing the stained t-shirt you are wearing. You seem embarrassed for a moment when you notice and pull the blanket up to your chin again.

He offers you the soup then. He would feed you, but he is sure you would never let him do that. You take the bowl in your hands, lacing your fingers around it, enjoying the warmth radiating from the ceramic.

He leans back besides you, taking your calves and placing them over his lap, his hands drawing slow, mindless circles on your bare skin. Both of you stare at the muted TV in silence, none of you bothered enough to look for the remote to change the volume.

You put the bowl down as you finish and curl up again on the couch, removing your calves from Joel's lap. He can see tears in the corners of your eyes again, threatening to overflow and paint wet stripes on your cheeks. You swipe them away with the heel of your palms and squeeze your eyes shut. You hold your breath to keep yourself from crying.

Joel curls behind you, his whole body hugging yours. Breath, his mouth is on your ear, leaving a small kiss on the shell of your ear. So you do, let the air flow into your lungs. You keep it in for a few seconds and let it out slowly, feeling your tears escape your body the same time the air does.

You take his hand and press it against your chest, squeezing yourself impossibly close to him. The rain is still drip-drip-dripping on the windows, a monotonous sound that you cannot escape. I want it to end, you breathe and you both know you are not referring to the rain.

He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in. You can feel his length hardening against the curve of your ass. He mumbles an apology and adjusts his position so that your bodies are no longer touching.

No, please, you push yourself back again, make love to me. The urge to have him inside you takes over your body. You push your underwear down, kick it off with your legs, and then reach behind to remove his jeans too. You hear his quiet hey, baby, stop; but your only answer is the squeaky pleas that are falling from your lips, landing straight at the bottom of his spine.

He takes his cock out, fully hard now, propping it to your entrance and entering you with one swift motion. You moan in unison at the feeling, his hands holding you close, splayed out on your stomach.

He fucks you then, no rush in his movements, peppering small kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders. He mewls quietly in your ear every time he fills you up. He does not stop until your body tenses around him, pleasure ripping through your tired body. When he comes, it is with a soft groan buried in your neck.

At least now I have something in me that I love, you whisper. The rain has stopped now, the only dripping sounds are his tears landing on the bare skin of your chest.

Thank you so much for reading!

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou joel #joel fic #joel miller the last of us

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rkivedpages · 3 months ago

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❛ CALL OUT MY NAME ❜ ♱ ོ⁩ ABBY ANDERSON

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name ( call out my name, baby )

‎ ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name when i kiss you, so gently

PAIRINGS: top!abby + blkfem!reader

SUMMARY: you haven’t been sleeping well, you can’t think straight and you didn’t even have the stomach to eat most days. all because it’s been way too long since you’ve seen your girlfriend.

WARNINGS: 4.6k, [contains nsfw wlw content, m+mdni 18+], angst, smut, vulgar language, intimate sex, shower sex, making out, crying, hair pulling, fingering [r!receiving], oral sex [r!receiving]

J4Y SPEAKS — this was way longer than i expected but, here ya go lol

𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓! + 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐓𝐋𝐎𝐔/𝟐! + 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒!

wanna stay updated? welcome to j4y’s taglist!

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ a bright strike of lightning crashed against the night sky, seconds behind it, the boom of thunder that shook the building. aches and pains sparked through your body, a knot forming in the middle of your shoulders irritated you as you stumbled through the empty hallway. the sounds of your wet footsteps echoed, accompanying the off and on sounds of the leaky pipes no one has been able to fix since settling down here. you looked over to the right, glaring at the few fish that were left swimming around behind the glass. the water grows more green and dirtier by each day, and more fish die in the tank and no one could stop it.

outside, the heavy rain continued to fall. the water proceeded to mix with the dry dirt, making the runny mud you just came back from trudging through.

your arms not quite touching your sides, your cargos sticking to your thighs and calves in uncomfortable places. a black tank top dripping with water, your nipples pebbled through the thin materials of your top and sports bra. the once white shoelaces trailing behind the loose shoes on each foot. holding onto the damp strap of your backpack, you drug it along with the rest of your rain doused clothing. your curly hair is riddled with dirt, rain and sweat — maybe even a little bit more than that. a strained gulp of saliva struggled to slide down your throat when you came closer and closer to the room you shared. dreading to see it empty once again.

muddy footsteps left a trail for anyone who wanted to find you. easily.

scratching the bottom of your chin, you threw your head back to mindlessly walk towards the closed door, finding the strength to twist the gold knob open. reaching to the side, your cold fingers skimmed the wall to find the flat light switch. the room was emitted with the light, the bed messy but the messy you left when you left early this afternoon. you stared at the dark gray sheets crinkled on top of the mattress, the pillows everywhere but the head of the bed.

your hands balled, fingernails digging crescent marks into your pale palms before you let go and dropped the backpack in one of them. hearing the bag hit the ground, you began to slide the thick boots off of your feet, bending down to position them at the door by your other shoes. you sniffed the snot running down your mouth, feeling like your body is coming down with something as a result of the harsh weather that kept most of the group from going outside.

going over to grab your towel and the bar soap in the cubby by your bed, you wanted so badly to drop on the bed and let it all out—the tears, the heavy breaths. but you were dirty and needed to wash the dirt, sweat and sadness away.

though it doesn’t seem like the sadness would go away any time soon.

your eyes simply fell shut on your way towards the showers, the squishy feel of the wetness between the toes of your socks. left more footprints leading to the showers when you let another shaky breath slip from your dry lips.

more downpour spouted from the dark sky, pelting against the side of the building and the trees scratching against it as well. you wanted to stand outside and get drowned out by the cold rain, but the minute you stood still, your friends wouldn’t allow that to happen. claiming that you would’ve caught a nasty cold if you stayed outside any longer. but what good is being in good health if you don't care about it? if you didn’t care whether you got sick or had stamina like an ox? you’ve been on a three week schedule of heading out and looking for her, finding nothing and coming back to an empty room, with an empty bed and you sleeping with a full heart.

you then reached the showers, throwing your towel over the glass door right before you began to undress, tossing your damp clothes onto the floor beneath your cold feet. the soggy socks came off next, pulling on top of the mound of discarded clothing, your naked body now cold and ready to get this over with and go to sleep this night away. stepping in, you immediately started the water, flipping it to the closest hottest setting it can reach without blowing the hot water out for anyone else. you walked into the water pouring down over you, covering your body in warmth and settling the goosebumps riddling your limbs and back.

you looked over at the bar soap sitting sadly on the small seat in the corner of the shower. reaching over for you, you started to lather the fresh scent over yourself. foamy soap suds ran down your arms and down your back as you rubbed the small piece of bar soap over your skin. the start of the warm water cradled in your arms, you placed the bar back down to finish washing the suds off.

in the next minute or so, it will be a full three weeks since you’ve seen or heard anything from your girlfriend. three weeks ago, you would send her off on another normal run with a smile on your face and a long kiss that was placed on your plump lips. her hair tucked neatly into the braid that you did, her backpack full of snacks and her boots laced tightly, along with the blue shoestring that came from your shoes tied in with hers. just so she doesn’t forget to come home to you. even though she never forgets anything when it comes to you. tears welded your eyes shut at the mere thought of her not coming back into your arms. on the fourth day, you were a complete mess, not coming out of your room, snapping at anyone who even tried to give you the time. it wasn’t like abby to take more than three days to come back from a run.

it wasn’t right.

she was supposed to come back home. she was supposed to be waiting for you in the room on the bed and in the room that you two shared. but she wasn’t there every time you entered through the door.

every day you went out to look for her, you always came back with nothing. aside from the one time you came back with a torn piece of the jacket she left in. that broke your heart into pieces, sending you into a downwards spiral from there.

it was rare that you talked to someone. if they didn’t have any whereabouts of abby, you didn’t want to hear a thing coming out of their mouth.

your salty tears mixed with the hot water that burned your skin, but it wasn’t like you really cared about the temperature in this state. you ran the water over your hair, wetting it and freezing there. you didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to get out or turn the water off—you just wanted to stay there and let out everything you had built up.

there have been some days where the only thing you would see through the day would be the four walls of your room. the same posters, the same workout routine abby had on the clipboard at the end of your bed, the dumbbells that abby owned, the shoes that lined up at the end of your door. you didn’t want to see any of those things anymore.

mindlessly, you nibbled at the soft knuckle on your right hand, staring off into the distance of the shower tile that covered the wall you stood in front of. the sound of the heavy bathroom door opened, shutting behind the person that supposedly came in and walked along the slippery flooring. it snapped you out of your slump, finally paying attention to the little fog that the boiling hot water made, as it filled the stall you stood in. you turned your head every which way, left and right, up and down, just to listen to the weighty footsteps walking around the bathroom, over the tile and walking up to stop somewhere near the stall you occupied. your eyes darted over to the wall where the shower seat was embedded, as quickly as a knock came crashing against the opaque shower door.

“occupied.” you spoke meekly, tightening your arms around your naked and soapy body, the soap suds have now washed off, leaving only the sleekness of the water running over your skin. gulping, you then heard another knock collide into the door, heavier the second time.

heart beats pounding behind your chest and skin, your arms dropped a bit from the tightness of you hugging yourself. “i said it’s occupied.”

a minute passed by, it seemed as if the person couldn’t hear or tell that you were even saying anything to them. you didn’t have the guts to look back at the door, to see if the person was still standing behind the door, to see their legs peeking underneath the large space under the door.

you heard the sound of the boots move, the footsteps faded a bit, probably moving to a different stall, a small ruffle of clothing being removed over the harsh sounds of water against your ear. a rush of relief came and went when you thought the person was finding another stall to use, but that was only before you heard the door of your stall open and close, indicating that that person is now standing in the same stall as you. your lip trembled, going to bit it to stop it from moving so much and your body tensed up at the thought of being in the same stall as someone you probably barely know. “please.”

“please what, baby?” a raspy and amber voice emitted from behind you, your eyebrows fell into a certain position and your arms fell fully to your sides, your lips parted as you took in another big breath before slowly turning around.

that voice.

when you turned around, your eyelids were heavy when you opened them back up to see who was standing behind you. she was covered in scratches, probably from the bushes and tree branches, a massive bruise formed on the top of her shoulder, all while she was beginning to take her hair down from the loose braid it was kept in. a shudder took over your body and you could sense the tears forming on the waterline of your brown doe eyes. you watched her dirty brown hair wave up from being in the braid for so long, her face looked so tired and worn out from the long-lasting run she just came back from. you reached out your hand, feeling the tips of your fingers brushing up against her skin just to make sure that seeing her and feeling her were real and not just a hallucination from you missing her. she brought her hand up, grabbing at your wrist and pulling it up her face as she puckered her lips out and kissed the palm of your hand, the tears in her eyes swelling as well as her pulling your body close to hers. “abby.”

“hi, sweetheart.” she mumbled, her other arm snaking around your smooth waist and pulling you flush against hers. not caring that she’s dirty and bruised, you didn’t care that she smelled outside, you have her back in your arms. she reached up with her other hand, moving a curly piece of hair out of your face, so you could see her a little bit better. more so, so she could see the entirety of your gorgeous and tired face. tired because of all the long nights you wished she was there next to you, wrapping her large arms around your body, wanting to smell her scent in the middle of the night and you couldn’t. you were so tired of missing her and waiting for her to be home, that you deprived yourself of sleep because you wanted her to be safe so badly and were praying that she made it back to you.

“i missed you.” you watched her gulp in your wet appearance, peering down at you and taking in everything she hasn’t seen in three weeks, her thumb rubbing over the skin on your lower back while you reached up and grazed your fingers over the purple and green bruise covering over her freckled skin. the cuts riddled over her face and cheeks, you steadily rubbed over them like she didn’t feel a thing, though she was mentally flinching at the subtle touches of your fingers while she rubbed your cheeks with her thumb.

“i. . .missed you too.” a couple of tears fell down your cheeks, mixing in with the hot water spouting from the shower head. you pulled the both of you further back into the water, to where abby was now being drench under the hot liquid, her hair color darkening from it and the dirt from her body washing off and down the drain of the shower. you reached over and grabbed the bar of soap, skimming it over her skin, creating the clean suds that you did to yourself, she sighed in pleasure at your hands rubbing over her body, abby’s eyes dropping at the euphoric feeling. dropping her arms to her side, she allowed you to do everything for her, not because you needed to do everything, just because she missed the feeling of your fingers over her skin and being in the presence of you. she could feel the burning of your eyes on her as her eyes struggled to pry back open to get a look at you, but she had to force them to open, not wanting to miss a moment of looking at you.

soon, the dirt washed off of her body and rinsed down the silver drain, along with any dried blood that covered her as well. the cuts and nicks washed out before they could get any type of infection from being caked in mud and anything else from the outside. silence filled the air of the close stall, surrounding the two of you in it comfortably, as you both stood leaning up against each other for more warmth than you probably needed. abby began to smell like you, the more you rubbed the soap into her skin and the more she rubbed against you. she finally pulled away, boring her sapphire blue eyes into yours, they faded over to a darker blue, breaking the eye contact to get a quick glance of the water droplets dripping from your plush and parted lips, her stare on your lips had gotten longer and longer too the point where she wasn’t even looking into your eyes anymore.

abby leaned down, her muscles sore from the strenuous activities she endured, they tensed as she craned her neck to level out with your face and brace her lips centimeters away from your own. you rushed your fingers through her wet hair, combing through it just to take handfuls of it and press her face into yours, colliding your lips with hers. a gutted grunt filled the space from her, a hearty moan erupted from your throat when you got to taste her again, the same taste you missed when she left you for three weeks. your eyebrows furrowed when she pushed the both of you over, arching your back and body into her as you felt her calloused hands grip every inch of skin she could get them on. you two walked backwards into the tile wall, next to the seat as you continued to messily move your lips against one another.

pressed into the wall now, abby’s hand rubbed down the side of your hip to your thigh, latching her fingers onto the back of your thigh, pulling it up to rest on her hip. moaning at the way you felt against her, you could only feel the heat coming off of her and not the heat of the water anymore while she locked her other hand on the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to hers if that was even possible. carelessly, you started to grind your wet pussy onto the air, desperate to feel something touch you. you were desperate to feel her touch you.

she pulled away, lips red from being smashed against yours, her eyes filled with lust and neediness towards you. the grip she had on your thigh was harsh, her nails digging into your supple skin with intent. “can i show you how much i missed you?”

there was nothing in your head to prompt you to say no to her question. “yes. yes, abby, please.”

she took the chance to kiss over your face, gathering a giggle that slipped from your lips. reaching your jawline, abby’s kisses became more sloppy, filled with more love and more care, more spit she placed on your skin with the water rolling down you skin. you could also feel the hand that was latched onto your thigh slip further upwards, closer to the place where you needed her fingers to touch you. abby’s tongue slipped out past her lips, trailing up and down the side of your neck, you couldn’t at all help release the moan building up in your throat. she continued to assault your neck with her wet tongue, latching her lips around the spots she licked over and over. abby pulled away to look at the masterpiece she made of you and your neck, you felt her fingers graze over your wet opening with a small smirk on her face knowing that she did that to you. “abby. . .”

abby took ahold of your face in her free hand, puckering your lips out and leaning in to kiss them again, this time, harder than the first. her tongue moved past her swollen lips, groaning once more at the taste of you and something flipped inside of her. the animalistic tendencies took over as she deepened the kiss, swirling her tongue around your mouth and rubbing her against yours. you could feel the indents of her nails on either side of you face when she took control of the kiss. you just followed along. she pulled away once more, with your bottom lip in between her teeth before she released it with a pop. abby licked her lips, watching you intensely when she dipped her middle finger into you a couple of times, all the way to her knuckle just to pull out and circle your clenching pussy for fun. “please what, baby?”

“what do you want from me?” you tried to pull her closer towards you, if possible, you dug your nails into her lower back with pleading eyes, you looked up at her, you wanted-need to feel her.

“i want you to fuck me.”

abby stopped the movement of fingers, her ocean blue eyes bored into your head with the slow smirk that appeared on her lips when she pulled away fully. you watched her place a singular kiss upon your collarbone before she dipped down on her knees, feeling the wet tile underneath her. the deep thump of her hitting the floor just made it feel real for the first time in ten minutes. you took in a harsh breath, sealing your lips closed when you watched her lift you leg and rest it over her shoulder, staring up at you with the most vulgar look in her dark eyes,the feeling of not seeing you for half a month was really overtaking her brain.

she rolled her lips in, moving her hand back and forth against the skin on your thigh, tilting her body forward the start placing small but lingering kisses on the skin that she rubbed previously. her eyes still bored into yours.

her head close to your heat, eyeing it before she looked back up at you, catching a glimpse of how much it dripped with anticipation. how much it missed her and her touch. the tip of abby’s nose nudged your clit, moving it around to hear another quick moan fall from your mouth. “abby. please, i need you.”

“oh, such a needy girl.” abby smirked, taking whiffs of how you smelled, the fresh bar of soap scent taking over.

you bit your bottom lip, just wanting to feel her mouth on you. “ don’t do this, abbs.”

abby’s lips straightened out, continuing to move her head back and forth, enticing the feel on your clit even more. you began to rock your hips back and forth just to get more friction, but you could also feel abby grabbing your hips to halt the movements they mindlessly made. “how much did you miss me, sweetheart?”

you dropped your head backwards against the tile wall of the steamy shower. “abby, i-”

she cut you off with her middle finger circling your entrance, hissing when she felt you drip down her forearm. “how much. did you. miss me. sweetheart?”

“so very mu-” abby wrapped her plump lips around you perked up clit, sucking on it like a straw as she still circles your entrance, feeling you desperately wanting to clench around her fingers. you raked your finger through her wet dirty blonde hair, grasping it to keep yourself grounded, especially when she dipped her finger past your walls. her finger drew back slowly, pulling out almost at the tip until she slipped in another finger, fastening the pace just as quickly as she sucked on your clit.

abby continued curling and scissoring her finger inside of you while you pulled on her water absorbed locks, the stinging feeling against her scalp pushed her to go further in lapping up everything you had to offer her at the time. sticking out her tongue, abby licked your now puffy clit, with her eyes on your contorting face. you felt the harsh little smack she gave to your thigh, wanting you to look into her eyes as she brought you to the brink of coming undone. your breath shaky and uneven, trying to conceal your sounds if anyone were to come in and hear you two. thought it’ll be just you being so loud.

even on her knees under you, abby noticed how quiet you were trying to be and she hated that. she wanted people to know who was making you feel so good, which made her tear her fingers away after coming to a complete stop and giving your clit one last lick before taking her tongue away also. “abby.”

“shh, i know, baby.” abby went in for another kiss, sloppy like the one before, she eyebrows knotted as she reached over your hips and down your ass. groping the plush flesh and kneading it to her liking, probably likely to leave a bruise with how hard she was gripping.

you felt abby’s hand flip you around, pressing your front to the cold tile, your nipples rubbing against it as you sucked in another breath. abby trailed kisses down the side of your neck and over your shoulder while she ghosted her fingers over your hips and pushed you harder against the shower wall. you reached behind you and placed your hand on top of her head, moaning at the little feeling of her lips again.

abby slid her left hand in front of you and her right hand behind you, her fingers rubbing over different spots simultaneously. the fingers on her left hand found your puffy clit once more, rubbing it in large circles while the fingers on her right hand found your wet hole again.

“shit. you’re so wet.” she mumbles, her brain so occupied by the euphoric feeling on her fingers that she didn’t even mean to say that out loud. the sentence alone made you wetter than before, if it was again possible. she dipped them into you wetness, copying what she had done beforehand, dipping her middle finger in and pulling it out to the fingertip and adding another finger. all while still setting open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. “i love how easily i can slip my fingers in you.”

your other hand gripping the top of the shower wall and the other hand still entangled in abby’s hair, your nails digging into her scalp so painfully good, according to her eyebrows that stayed knotted. her fingers never once moved in their spot, they sat there gathering more of your wetness while abby carried on with the kisses she wanted to put on you. the needy whines and the push back of your ass on her fingers gave her more than enough go head to start pumping her fingers into you.

abby removes her hand from your clit to bring it up and tilt your head backwards so she could watch your pretty face turn up at how she’s making you feel, before finding her place back on it again. the circles becoming tighter, firmer.

she moaned at how hard you were clenching around her fingers, wanting more from her and just wanting her to make up cum as hard as you can. “oh fuck, abby!”

“fuck, yeah. call my name out again, baby.” you feel the tip of her fingers bump your g-spot over and over again.

“abby, i-i’m-” you could barely think words anymore from the stimulation on your clit and abby thick fingers dancing inside of you. the steam from the water that was still spewing from the shower head and the exhilarating feeling of abby made you dizzy. your head swaying from side to side, not knowing what to do or say next. everything was getting to your head.

you couldn’t see the fat grin on abby’s face when you said what you said, since your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back on her shoulder.

she watched you with hawk eyes, from your bitten lips to your bobbing throat, she mentally jumped to the roof for making you look a mess. “what was that? you’re gonna what?”

“i’m g’na cum, ab.” your finger harshly gripped the top of the wall for balance, though your grip was slipping, so was your sanity.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty. s’wet for me, wanting to cum all over my fingers.” abby’s fingers fastened in their pace, whispering dirty nothing in your ear while you felt the tight ball coil in the pit of your stomach as she felt like you needed to endure the harsh pumping. the circles on your clit grew tighter and tighter. “ask me if you can and i’ll let you.”

“please! abby, can i cum, pre-pretty please?” you chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes opening up to peer at abby who was already looking down at you with such admiration.

if it wasn’t for her and her heavy hands, you’d probably be face down on the floor because of your buckling knees and wobbly thighs that could barely keep balance, clearly unable to hold up your own weight in this state.

“of course you can, baby. cum all over my fingers for me.” the last pump was enough, abby could feel the absentminded clenches you gave her fingers as you let go, dripping down her fingers which were finally slowing down but not to a stop. your eyes still closed, you only felt the continuing pump of abby’s fingers and her hot lips setting themselves on yours. tempting you in another heated kiss, sloppy and full of spit, just to her liking.

the overstimulation of her fingers made you buck your hips, your hand still tangled in her hair, her hands still touching your sensitive areas. abby pulled back, her fingers finally stopping to take them out and slip them in her mouth, to steal the taste of you once more.

“i’m glad you missed me.”

#♱ ོ⁩༬ 𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 #♱ 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐛 ౨ৎ 𝒕𝒍𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 #⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝓂𝓎 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓀𝓈 #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x black reader #abby anderson smut #lesbian #wlw #wlw smut

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lalacliffthorne · 1 year ago

Text

⚔️ I really don't think now's the best time ⚔️

Azriel x Reader

summary: battlefields are really not the right place for important revelations.

notes: like I said, this is totally inspired by that iconic scene in Pirates of the Carribeans. there's a shit ton of fighting involved, so prepare for graphics. if you want to go all in, listen to this specific part of the soundtrack over and over again and the vibes will be immaculate. now go and have fun, kids.

______________________________________________________________

The middle of a battlefield was arguably the worst place for any kind of not remotely expected revelation.

“Why,”, gritting my teeth, I swung my sword and neatly decapitated the huge, wolf-like beast, “do they,”, dodging a blow, I dropped to my knees, whirling through the mud and slicing open another one's belly, “keep,”, I slid to my feet and finished in an angry, “coming?!”

Slashing my sword across a soldier's throat, I turned around. A gust of wind sent a splatter of rain right into my face, strands of soaked hair clinging to my cheeks as I breathed heavily, my gaze darting over the world going to shit around me, my heart rising in my chest as I tried to catch a glimpse at the familiar sight of blue blazing siphons and leathally flowing shadows.

The battlefield was complete and utter chaos. The heavy rain that had set in only shortly after the fighting began had turned the land into one huge muddy puddle, dirt splashing and covering allies and enemies alike. Our defenses were close to being overrun. In the sky, only a few Illyrians were left fighting alongside Gwyn, the only Valkyrie on the northern flank, up against gryphons with talons like iron and blood red eyes. The rest of the Illyrians had taken to the ground, now fighting side by side with the Fae warriors left on foot, but more enemies seemed to just come flooding from the North, like a never ending stream of monstrous beasts and soldiers armed to the teeth.

Something churned in my chest, and I had to fight the surge of dread rising in my chest.

Unless Feyre turned up with reinforcements soon, we were dead.

There was a call of my name, deep and thundering over the sound of battle, and when I slashed my swords over one beast's throat and raised my head, my heart tilted in a wild flutter.

Azriel kicked a soldier back before turning to look at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was soaked by the rain, mud sprinkled over his armor, the sword in his one hand and Truthteller in the other gleaming with blood. His eyes looked wild, but something flashed through them for nothing more than a second when they found mine.

“I need to tell you something!” His deep voice reverberated over the battlefield.

I sent a soldier flying with a kick to the chest and caught another's blade with my crossed ones, yelling back: “I'm a little busy at the moment!”

Slicing my swords down, I dropped to my knees, sliding over the muddy ground and taking down a row of soldiers with blades to the back of their legs before coming back to my feet, and my breath hitched, my heart dropping out of rhythm when Azriel appeared right in front of me from a cloud of shadows, wet hair curling and mud and blood spattered over his face as his eyes darted over my face, wild and almost desperate.

“It can't wait!”, he called.

Breathing heavily, I stared up at him through the rain pelting down, feeling the ache of my sore body wash over me now that I wasn't moving, and my brows furrowed as concern tightened my chest; because I had never seen him so blatantly unguarded and expressive, emotions practically swirling in his eyes.

“What –“

Azriel pushed me back, and I whirled around, deflecting a blow of a soldier coming at me as the shadowsinger rammed his daggers into another one's chest in the place I had just stood, rain running over his face and shadows rising, wrapping around a third soldier's throat.

“I really don't think now's the best time!”, I yelled, the slight absurdity of Azriel of all people deciding he needed to talk in the middle of a battlefield making my voice dip almost comically.

"This might be the only time!” Azriel's deep voice vibrated over my skin, his rough shout audible even over the roar of the rain and the clashing of weapons, and I whirled around, sword flying down on a soldier's neck and sending blood spattering.

A hand closed around my biceps and pulled me back, then I was spun around, and my heart skipped into my throat when Azriel's chest pressed into mine and he dipped his head, his eyes flying over my face as streams of rain ran over his own, and something like desperation flashed through them when he called over the war cries and clashing of weapons: “I –“

His eyes darted up as my instincts flared in warning, and we moved at the same time, his shadows throwing up a wall against a wave of ash arrows as I slid past him and threw one of my swords at the beast, huge and bear-like, leaping at us. The weapon sank into its side, causing it to crash onto the ground, and I whirled around and rammed my other sword into its throat.

“I need you to know –“ Azriel broke off again, dodging a sword and gutting the belonging soldier in one smooth movement, and I landed a kick on another soldier's back.

“Are you sure this can't wait?!”, I yelled back, diving to avoid a blow to the head and rolling off over my shoulder, sliding through the mud and baring my teeth at a beast that growled back before jumping at me, and I dipped and slit it's throat.

Azriel stabbed his daggers into another wolf-like monster, siphons blazing as he beat his wings and a wave of shadows rolled away, drowning a row of soldiers as he turned, and something staggered in my chest at the sight of him; shadows shrouding his tall, lean body and curling around his shoulders, even broader under his black armor as a flash of lightning illuminated his face.

Even caked in dirt and blood, drenched by the heavy rain as drops of water ran from his hair over his cheekbones, he was utterly and annoyingly beautiful.

“Yes!”, he called back, and I whirled around, swords slashing and reflecting another strike of lightning as thunder rolled and I knocked a soldier to the ground. “I need you to know tha–“

There was a snarl, and I dove out of the way, rolling through the mud as a beast crashed into the spot I had been in a mere heartbeat before. I pushed myself up and slammed my swords down into its back with an angry sound, then I raised my head, my heart thrumming and adrenaline rushing through my veines, and my eyes met golden ones, desperate and wild and only hesitant for a second before the chaos vanished, replaced by something else, something deep and worldshaking. Then Azriel's deep voice rumbled over the noise of the battle.

“I love you!”

The world fell still for a moment. Became quiet and stagnant as my heart did one mighty leap.

Then time fell back into place, something staggered in my chest, and my eyes grew wide.

“What?!”

Somehow, I dodged a blow crashing down out of nowhere, parrying another and directing it to the side as I slid my other blade over the soldier's throat, ramming my shoulder into his chest to push him back before turning around wide eyed, and my gaze met another, shining like amber in sunlight.

“You –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made me duck, and I swerved, dropping to my knees and sliding over the muddy ground. Ramming my swords into two soldier's lower regions, I pulled them out and used the momentum to push myself to my feet. Then I whirled around and yelled, disbelief and sheer shock making my voice rise an octave: “You what?!”

A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me forward, and I stumbled into a solid chest, my heart jumping into my throat as my head whipped up and I could feel the sensation of shadows rising behind me and heard swords dropping and a struggle. But it all felt far away, because I could feel Azriel's body press against mine and his eyes were piercing, looking wild and desperate and pained when he called over the noise of the battle, voice rough: “I love you!”

My throat closed as I opened my mouth in shock; Azriel pulled me past him, and I whirled around and parried the blows of a soldier, slicing my swords over his arms before ramming my blades into his chest, then I threw my head around, my wet hair clinging to my face, and Azriel dropped another soldier. For a second, our eyes met, mine wide and completely dumbfounded, then he dodged a blow.

“You –“ I tried to get closer to him but almost got jumped by a huge beast. Shadows wrapped around me and pulled me back, and Azriel slit a soldier's throat before looking back at me, rain running over his face and desperation flashing through his eyes as he yelled: “I had to make sure you knew!“

A war cry made me spin around, and I dodged, swerving the blow of a sword and slashing my own across the soldier's throat, blood spattering as I yelled back in almost comical disbelief: “So you're telling me now?!”

A hand wrapped around my wrist, whirling me out of a beast's reach and right into the way of a sword crashing down, my own blades catching it effortlessly. A familiar scent rose into my nose, distinct even under the smell of blood and dirt, and my heart thrummed into my throat as I pushed, my swords sinking into the soldier's chest, then I spun around, rain dripping over my skin as I stared wide eyed at the male right in front of me. He was so close that I could hear the roughness in his voice even though he didn't shout, one corner of his lips quirking almost helplessly as his eyes dragged over my face like he wanted to ingrain it into his mind when he called hoarsely: “Better late than never.”

My heart skipped into my throat as I stared up at him, and my lips parted, but then Azriel's eyes darted up, and he pulled me out of the way, his sword catching the one of an enemy soldier.

“What –“ I gutted a gigantic wolf, widening my eyes as I threw the shadowsinger a disbelieving look. “How late is late?!” I ducked, swerving the blow of a sword and ramming my own blade into the side of the soldier's neck.

“I couldn't lose you! If you knew -"

"Azriel!" My shout made his head whip around, and I stared at him, breathing heavily, feeling an ache build under my ribs as I widened my eyes desperately. "Since when?!"

"Since the day you stayed up with me for first time!” Azriel dodged a blow. “Probably even before that.” He raised his head, and something rose in my chest when his amber eyes found mine, his voice raspy when he called lightly: “Probably from the moment I met you and everything went silent.” His gaze flickered over my face, and my heart skipped and tumbled at the emotion swirling inside as he added hoarsely: “I think it's always been you.”

My throat closed up, and I kicked a beast to the side and sliced through some soldier's necks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it's you.” Even though Azriel's voice was raised, I could still hear how unsteady it was, raw as the words tumbled from his lips as he called them over the raging battle around us. “From the day I met you, there was something about you that made everything wash away, that made breathing easier, everything easier, even though you drive me insane sometimes! Something that makes me want to be with you, all the time, that makes not being with you fucking ache!” His eyes flickered over mine, chest rising and falling quickly with his heavy breaths as rain streamed over his face, and his throat worked like he was trying not to swallow.

“And it scares the shit out of me, but I don't care anymore!” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine when his amber iris found mine. “You're it.”

Something rose in my chest, fluttering so wildly it felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Why the hell did you never say anything?!”, I yelled in disbelief, and Azriel's jaw shifted as he dodged a blow, slicing the soldier's throat.

“Because I was afraid you didn't feel the same, and I couldn't lose you!”

“What?!” Rain pelted down at me, my soaked armor becoming heavier with every moment, but for a change, I didn't feel any of it. Breathing heavily, I stared at the godsdamned beautiful male, and my heart rose, rose until it was in my throat and the world turned into a tilt.

“Of course I do!”

Azriel's head whipped up, and I kicked a soldier away and slashed his throat before turning around, feeling the words echo through me as I yelled: “I love you too, you idiot!”

As the last syllable left my lips, Azriel stared. Stared as something seemed to rise in his eyes. Then darkness wrapped around him, and he appeared in front of me like formed from shadows. His amber eyes were bright with desperation and something so much deeper, it caused my breath to simply still. Caused my heart to swell and time to slow as he took one last step and slipped his arm around my waist, his scent washing over me in an intoxicating wave, his movements never faltering as he leaned down without an ounce of hesitation, and something shifted in my chest, locking into place with a soundless snap when his lips crashed onto mine in a hard, desperate kiss.

My heart pulsed once. Twice, as something bloomed under my ribs, warm and rising until it thrummed through my whole chest, pulling towards the male pressed against me, body tall and solid and unwavering, and I sucked in a soft, trembling breath.

Oh.

Slowly, Azriel broke the kiss, like he had to force himself to pull back, his nose brushing against mine and causing my heart to miss a step. Then he slowly raised his head, and my breath hitched, gave out completely for a second when I caught the way his iris shifted like amber in golden sunlight, lips parted and gaze piercing mine.

There was a war cry behind me, and Azriel's eyes snapped up, sharpening.

My heart flew, and my instincts kicked in.

Azriel pulled me out of the way with a growl, and I whirled around, swords clashing with two others, blocking their blows as I dropped to my knees and turned, and the blades found their home in the soldier's stomachs. Pulling them out, I raised my head, and my throat closed up when I saw our lines slowly beginning to unravel while the steady stream of beasts and soldiers didn't seem to waver.

My gaze found Azriel, in a cloud of shadows, teeth bared in a snarl and blades flashing in a clash of lightning, rain pelting onto his shoulders, and that feeling in my chest rose until I was sure it had to be visible, like a golden light thrumming under my ribs.

“Azriel!”, I shouted desperately, and he slammed the hilt of his sword onto an enemy soldier's head before turning around, amber eyes finding mine.

My heart tightened almost violently, and before I could stop myself, before even really thinking, I called, my voice a little weak: “Marry me?”

Azriel froze. Stilled on the spot as shadows swirled around him, catching ash arrows and knocking out soldiers, his eyes piercing mine as emotions swirled through them like the storm above.

And suddenly I knew he felt it. Maybe not yet that the bond was vibrating in my chest, thrumming in synch with my racing heart. But that he knew.

Azriel blinked against the rain pouring over his face, and I could see how he suppressed the urge to swallow. Then he shouted, his deep voice causing my heart to flutter: “Gwyn!”

My breath hitched, and Azriel's eyes pierced mine, golden and bare and burning as he yelled: “Marry us!”

“I'm a little occupied right now!”, Gwyn shouted from high above us, cursing as her winged horse barely managed to swerve around a gryphon.

A soldier came at me, and I dodged his blows, sliding my sword over his chest.

“Gwyn!”, I yelled, my voice breaking, and somehow, she must've heard it over the noise and chaos, because she yelled back, only halfheartedly annoyed: “Fine! If I fall, it's your fault!”

I landed a kick on the soldier's chest and sent him flying backwards, then I turned around, and Azriel was there, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist as he pulled me forward until we were chest to chest, and that golden thrum in my chest soared at the way his eyes pierced mine.

“Dearly beloved,”, Gwyn yelled over the roar of thunder, “we've gathered here today to pull every single one of your feathers, you miserable excuse of a bird!”

There was an irritated screech followed by a scuffle high over our heads, and Azriel pushed me back as two enemy soldiers came at us with swords drawn. Swinging around, I sent my blade down onto the right one's hand, severing it cleanly, and as he screamed, I shoved my sword into his chest.

Azriel called my name, and when my head whipped around, his hand closed around mine, pulling me out of the way of a beast and with my back into his chest, his deep voice rumbling through my body when he shouted over the rain: “Do you take me,”, I kicked out and the beast yelped, “to be your husband?”

Slashing my sword over the beast's snout, a laugh bubbled in my chest when Azriel spun me around, and my heart rose in my chest when I stared up at him, feeling pressure build in my throat as his eyes darted over my face, almost like he was expecting me to change my mind, pull back -

“I do!”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes brightened, became as radiant as amber held into the evening sun. Something shifted in my chest when a smile spread over his face, widening with every second, until creases formed in his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and I had to physically fight to keep myself from burying my fingers in his messy hair and pull him in to kiss him.

There was a war cry from our left, and I widened my eyes and jumped back, feeling the a blade whizz down where I had been standing just seconds before, and Azriel growled, wings flaring and sending out a wave of shadows that took down the row of soldiers behind him as I parried the next blow and slammed the soldier to the ground.

Whirling around, I grabbed Azriel's outstretched hand and yelled: “Do you take me,”, I ducked under his arm and blocked a blow, “to be your wife?” Azriel pulled me back, parrying the next as I stabbed my sword into another soldier's stomach. “On the good days and the bad; though,”, smoothly slicing the soldier's throat, I growled, “we might not see a lot more!”

Azriel's grip tightened, and he twirled me around, pulling me out of the way of another soldier, and my heart fluttered violently when my chest pressed into his and that golden feeling thrummed when Azriel nodded, eyes darting over my face and deep voice hoarse when he called over the rain: “I do!”

My breath hitched and heart fluttered, the feeling in my chest rising, and above us, Gwen yelled: “Then hereby, you may be bound! Bound by soul, bound by heart, bound to one!”

There was a flare of heat in the middle of my chest, and my breath hitched when Azriel's grip tightened like he felt it too; the burning of a tattoo appearing on his skin, the sign of the vows made visible in ink.

Gwyn's voice echoed through the skies when she yelled: “You now may –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made Azriel and me dart apart.

“You now –“

I dodged a blow, Azriel's hand closing around mine and spinning me around to parry another as his sword clashed with a third.

“You may kiss the –“

Thunder struck, I ducked under a beast's claw, then Gwyn shouted in frustration: “Godsdamnit, just kiss her!”

My heart surged and skipped and Azriel pulled me around; his arm wrapped around my waist as mine slipped over his shoulder and I could feel him dipping me back lightly as he leaned down, then he kissed me.

Kissed me as rain poured down our faces, my free hand slipping up to cradle the side of his neck and my breath hitching as I kissed back, deep and desperate, and a hoarse sound rumbled in Azriel's throat as he tightened his grip around me, kissing me like it was the first and last time.

The sound of a horn ripped me back into reality, reminding me that the world was close to ending.

Azriel pulled me back up onto my feet, breaking the kiss, and I was thankful that he was just as out of breath as I was, could feel his heart pounding just as quickly. Then he raised his head, and when I looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high as relief so kneebuckling washed over me, I was glad Az was still holding me.

The cavalry had arrived.

“Come on, you two!”, Gwyn yelled somewhere above us, sounding gleeful. “Let's finish this!”

I raised my head, and Azriel's arm slipped away from my waist, amber eyes finding mine. For a second, I could see something flash through his gaze, like he expected me to pull back, suddenly regret this.

But I just sent him a wide, wicked smile.

“Shall we?”

It was still raining, but the storm had moved on. In the west, the clouds were breaking up, allowing the light of the sinking sun to flood over the lowlands, making the light rain shimmer as a rainbow spanned across the sky.

Breathing in deeply, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes as I felt the rain drizzle onto my face and body, washing away the smell of blood from the air and only leaving the scent of wet grass and moss to fill my nose with every slow inhale.

Feyre's arrival with the reinforcements had turned the tide, every last warrior gathering all their remaining strength. Still, there had been many losses, even after our victory, and wandering through the bloody mud, paying respect to the fallen, had caused a weight to rest on my chest, one that could not even be brushed away by the knowledge that my friends, my family was alive; exhausted and strained and with quite a few scratches, but alive.

Which was why I was standing on a hill, a little away from the tents, just listening to the patter of rain and breathing in the clean air as I felt the tension slowly melt from my muscles, leaving only exhaustion and heaviness in my limbs and a feeling of being so tired, I felt like falling asleep on the spot.

I felt him before I heard the call of my name, the feeling in my chest that had shrunk to a small, warm hum pulsing and growing.

Tipping my head back down, I looked over my shoulder, and my breath hitched when Azriel came towards me.

Just like me, he was still in his armor, specks of mud and blood on his cheeks, hair damp and curling like he had attempted to dry it and then got distracted. His dark brows were drawn together as his golden eyes pierced into mine.

“What are you doing?”, he called, his low, deep voice sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

He looked so close to his usual scowl, I felt my heart rise and skip as my lips curved up.

“Cleansing,”, I called back, and Azriel huffed, but it almost looked like he was fighting to keep his lips from twitching as he crossed the last bit of distance.

Turning around, I squinted up at him through the drizzle of rain, the thrumming thing in my chest soaring at the sight of him.

Godsdamned beautiful.

Up close, I could see the signs of exhaustion. His shadows were lazily swirling around his feet, his wings were drooping so much they almost grazed the ground, and his eyes were tired. But something sparked in them when they moved over my face, my heart skipping when I could feel his warm breath brush over my forehead.

“You know we have this ingenius invention for that? It's called a shower.” His voice was so dry, my heart skipped, and a smile slowly spread over my face, wide and bright and freeing in a way that caused something to stagger in my chest.

Azriel's eyes narrowed in, and his shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I know.” Squinting up at him, I felt my smile grow smaller as I shrugged softly, something tightening gently in my chest.

Azriel's gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, and my heart fluttered into my throat when he reached out, gently pushing a wet strand of hair out of my face. His fingers, out of his gloves, brushed over my skin, warm and rough, and my breath hitched, a shudder running over my spine.

One corner of Azriel's lips curved, and that thing in my chest pulsed and thrummed at the way his golden eyes started to shine.

The shadowsinger dipped his head, and my heart skipped and jumped when his lips brushed over mine. Then his thumb and forefinger gently closed around my chin, and Azriel tilted my head back to kiss me, deep and slow until I sank into his chest, my knees simply too tired to keep up with the way all of him made the world spin. My fingers curled into his sides, and Azriel's other hand rose to move to the back of my neck, gently tangling in my hair, and his thumb brushed over my skin until a soft sound broke from the back of my throat and my whole body shuddered.

Azriel's lips curved up against mine. Then he slowly pulled back, and my heart skipped when I saw his eyes, lids heavy and iris hazed over, the only thing betraying him; showing that I had more than the same effect on him that he had on me.

The thought made something rise and flutter in my stomach.

I blinked. Then I furrowed my brows and mumbled: “Crap.”

Azriel's gaze cleared a little, brows drawing together, and his hand slipped down to rest against the side of my neck. “What?”

I stared past him into nothing.

“I just realised we have to explain to Rhys and Cass that we got married without them.”

#azriel #az #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel/reader #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #lalacliffthorne

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minhosimthings · 10 months ago

Text

Dances Avec Les Etoiles ft. Heeseung

Synopsis: God how boring is love? For Lee Heeseung, it was perhaps the most boring thing in this rotten world. But for his parents, it meant buisness. And buisness meant getting Heeseung married off to a princess from another kingdom. And when the princess shares a peculiar interest, Heeseung starts to believe in Cupid again.

Pairings: Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader

Warnings: Brief smut scene in the beginning (not with reader), SMUT MINORS DNI (with reader), fingering, edging, orgasm control, french kissing hehe, dom!Heeseung × kinda dom!reader, mentions of food, sexual tension, hee is kind of a pervert, suggestive at places, fluff, swearing, angst, did I mention sexual tension, enemies to lovers (kind of), arranged marriage, playboi heeseung × playgirl!reader, reader wants adventure and Heeseung is the adventure

A/N: I have been writing and editing this for so long now and it's only part 1! Thank you for being patient with me and I promise to release the second part which has more smut in it very soon! @candewlsy your daddy papi has arrived

Part 1 || Part 2 || The wedding

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Lee Heeseung was a man of logic.

Which left no room for the poetry in him, although he did say that he enjoyed it a lot.

He was a prince, a ruler soon to ascend the golden throne of Tarnow. Stupid name, he had always thought, it sounded like a wheelbarrow carrying a bunch of tar pieces.

But he had often heard that the poets never allowed someone to go on with their life just like that. What kind of poets would they be if they did that?

And so he had to be betrothed. With a star studded ring on his finger, an imitation of a smile on his face, and a bride by his arm. And a ceremony where there would be flowers, and dancing.

Dancing!

Heeseung had a clandestine love for dancing. The curve of arms and fingers, the movement of hips, the ballet of the feet twirling to create an invisible picture on the ground. And yet, no one knew of this rendezvous of his. Well, almost no one.

"Hyung are you really sure you're alright?" Heeseung's daydream was interrupted by a honey sweet voice from above him. "Get down from the tree, idiot." Another voice, strong as iron reprimanded him.

Sim Jake and Park Jay.

Two of Heeseung's band of best friends.

They had grown up together, due to their parents being close friends, what with the never ending borders they shared between the kingdoms. And he could always count on them to give him advice, whether it be of a bastard's or of a sage's.

"Unless you want to break your arm again, get down from that dumb tree." Jay scolded the brown haired boy, who was, at the moment, hanging upside down from a willow tree, "But you need another reason to visit your best friend don't you loverboy?" Jay added with a cheeky smile.

"As if you have more love in your life" Jake shot back, promptly jumping down from the branches onto the grass with a soft thump.

"Would you two stop bickering and help me out of my current predicament?" Heeseung snapped, letting out a sigh and leaning against the bark of the willow. He had always liked this particular tree. He remembered his mother's hands carefully handling the roots and planting the tiny sapling into the wet mud, talking about how the Duchess' daughter had ran off with some ragamuffin. It was a majestic tree now, like how the poets described the trees of the Gods to be like. He had liked that poem a lot, the one about trees and princesses and first kisses under first snows.

"You're going to get married to a completely random princess, big deal." Jay rolled his eyes, settling comfortably onto the freshly mowed grass. He was often the more mature one out of all of them.

"Where on earth are Sunghoon and Sunoo?" Heeseung questioned, checking his pocket watch. He shook his head, his other two friends didn't exactly know the meaning of being on time.

"Probably kissing themselves." Jake smirked, flicking a leaf at Jay to annoy him, which worked when Jay got up from his sleeping position with a glare smeared on his face and slapped Jake's head.

"Just pretend you have affection towards her and all that and it'll be over in a minute." Jay adviced wisely, looking over at Heeseung's drooping figure. "I wish it was that easy." Heeseung sighed, "I don't want to get married, what if she's snobbery?"

"Hyung don't get poetic." Jay said sternly, moving his head to face Heeseung, "What is even love in these ages? And I am sure she'll be wonderful enough to make you some heirs."

"What's her name again?" Jake questioned, looking at the tree with his tongue stuck out, probably contemplating whether he should climb it again or not, "I hear she's of the far East."

"Princess Y/N of the Kingdom of Witchelm." Heeseung scoffed, "Ooh maybe they have witches!"

"Absolutely not." Jay sighed with a tiring expression.

"Whatever, I'm hoping to pay Priscilla a visit today." Heeseung pushed his hair out of his face.

"Does she love you yet?" Jake ashed with a cheeky grin.

"God I hope not." Heeseung shuddered, "She's just got a good mouth and a nice pussy for me to take. See you later boys."

"Fuck I needed this." Heeseung sighed laying back. The girl looked up at him as she placed her hand onto his cock, her other hand resting on his thigh. She licked the underside of it slowly back up, circling her tongue around the head.

"Fuck has your mouth gotten prettier since last time?" Heeseung chuckled, looking at the girl.

"Shut up and let me do my work." She responded, "You know this is the last time right?"

Heeseung scoffed and placed his hands on her head. "I know."

The girl took the head into her mouth, causing him to jolt. He patted her head which soon turned into him gripping her hair when she went back down again, now bobbing her head up and down. Making sure she reached all the way to the base, Heeseung helped by pushing Priscilla down further.

“Keep doing that thats a good girl” he stuttered out. The hand that was on his thigh reached down to massage his balls, lightly squeezing.

Would his new bride be good at giving him what he wants? Heeseung didn't know anything about her. Nor did he care really. She's probably the regular Mary Jane, a dull lifeless, smiling body, without balance in anything. He wished and prayed fervently that some sort of ballerina took her place instead.

Maybe that'd finally make him happy.

The reflection of Heeseung's mirror stared back at him, not noticing the utter beauty of his eyes. He never cared much for his handsome features, much preferring when people complemented how light he was on his feet.

But it was shameful for his parents.

Dancing? For a crown Prince? Preposterous!

It would have been outrageous if the kingdom found out that their prince preferred dancing over decrees. It wasn't that his mother and father didn't encourage his dancing, they loved seeing their son do what he loved. But to be a prince, a ruler, was to keep a reputation, and that couldn't be spoilt by something their son loved doing.

Heeseung sighed, taking a deep breath and counting his steps, every slow movement bringing him his happiness back inch by inch. Would his bride like dancing?, he wondered, that would be a pleasant thing. Atleast one thing in common with her.

His thoughts wandered carelessly as his feet did, sliding across the floor effortlessly, a gentle sway of the arm here and there, the ballet of a sawn without his mate.

He would be betrothed by tomorrow.

A fateful tomorrow, he hoped.

"And now we introduce, Princess Y/N of the Witchelm Kingdom!"

The man had a ridiculously nasally voice in Heeseung's opinion. Maybe they should replace him with someone who doesn't sound much like a parrot.

"Heeseung stand up straight." Heeseung's mother snapped at him from his right shoulder. Silently grumbling, he obeyed and adjusted his drooping figure along with the drowsy expression on his face. He would have rather ate a carrot than do this right now. The sound of bells and trumpets and what not, and all the ridiculously maroon stained curtains irritated him far too much. The sun was broiling hot, and there was not even an inch of a cloud in the sky. And his nose was rather itchy as well. Perhaps he should ask Jake for that rum again...

"Welcome to Tarnow, Princess." His father's formal voice broke Heeseung out of his train of thoughts, and as he snapped back to his senses, he realised the presence of a figure standing before him. Not caring to lift his eyes to look at the figure, he quickly bowed.

"How was the journey, my dear?" His mother asked in a saccharine sweet voice. She only ever used them with babies, Jay and extra important guests.

"Well the carriage certainly did not like the hefty rocks, but it was pleasant." Heeseung thought he had heard an angel speak for a moment, "Your kingdom is magnificent, Your Majesties." The figure in front of Heeseung curtsied, and that's when he caught a whiff of her perfume.

It was intoxicating, as if it was pulling his closer.

His eyes flickered up, to take a peek at the woman. She was clad in deep shades of maroon with gold trimmings illuminating her figure perfectly. Was this his bride to be?

"Prince Heeseung." You threw a curtsy to him, noticing the way his fawn like eyes were staring at you. Maybe the rumours were right. All the princes of Paradoxica were scoundrels who lounged after women.

"Princess Y/N." Heeseung finally bowed back, and you took note of the fact that his eyes stayed to the ground, not lingering over your figure as most usually did. Maybe he did have a tinge of respect in him.

"Well why wait here in this heat? Shall we lunch inside?" The Queen said in a joviant manner, extending her hand to you, which you took gratefully and stepped inside the castle walls, finally feeling at peace.

You were completely unaware of the pair of deer eyes following you.

Heeseung's first thought upon seeing you was the way you wore yourself. He had often learnt that the best of dancers always moved differently, which was always evident whenever he'd attend balls. The truest dancers would always walk as if they owned the very earth they walked on. Heeseung always felt that they had clouds for shoes.

And the way you walked, the way you held your shoulders, the way you each step echoed with the sound of the air, there was no way you couldn't have been a dancer like him.

But you were a princess, he reminded himself, his soon to be Queen. Dancing was to be put to the side for some time.

Or so he thought.

The luncheon had went quite well in your opinion. Apart from the fact that the King and Queen would not stop talking about the proposal ceremony and the wedding, and their son smirking into his peas whenever his parents came upon the topic of grandchildren, it had gone by in a breeze.

You were happy that Heeseung hadn't talked to you. You were far too tired to have any 'getting to know each other' conversations. He seemed a bit monotonous to you, at first glance atleast. You had always learnt never to judge a book by it's cover. But sometimes advice was made to be ignored, so you simply went on with your day, not caring about what kind of a person Heeseung was.

The rumours were enough for you to summarise his persona anyway. The people of Witchelm talked about him as if he was a splendid rose, one everyone wanted to take a look at. Kind, courageous, handsome, generous, blah blah blah. You would rather have married a fish if it was described as more interesting than him. Although the rumour that he really 'got around' in terms of pleasure had interested you. If that had been true, maybe you did like him. Atleast he would be understanding to the fact that had lied to everyone that you were still a virgin.

Tarnow had been a luxuriant kingdom, known to everyone as the first kingdom formed in all of Paradoxica, the oldest one, it spoke quite well through the aching castle walls when you were exploring the southern wing.

It was in a word, beautiful, with the fading architecture and all the women clad in luxurious silver, dancing their hearts out on the street. How you wished ever so fervently that you could join them.

Dancing was your life ever since you took your first steps. Witchelm was renowned for dancing, for ballet, ballroom and everything in between. It was a pity that you hadn't heard anything about the hobbies of the Prince. Perhaps he preferred dancing too. That would be a pleasant surprise, you thought, as you stepped into your chambers, where all your luggage had been arranged neatly.

"I think I can take over from now on." You curtsied to the girl who had led you over to the chambers. She bowed back and was about to leave when you thought to ask her the question that had been lingering in your mind for long.

"Is there a ballroom here?" The girl turned back abruptly at your question. She had hair as dark as coal and eyes even darker. A pretty sight.

"Oh yes, your Highness." She smiled at you, "We have the biggest ballroom in all of Paradoxica in fact. Most of the King's balls and state dances are held here."

"Then, there must be a place where they practice their dances is there not?"

The girl chuckled at your question and clicked her feet together.

"There is a humongous room in the western part of the castle that's basically empty space for dancing. But the Crown Prince spends most of his time there at night, so we aren't allowed to go there much. I can show you the way if you want."

"The western wing." You sat on the bed with a soft thump, "I can find my route don't worry. Thank you for everything."

The crown prince and dancing..... Peculiar. Very peculiar, you thought as you lay on the bed. You were thankful for finally getting out of the heavy purple gown, and putting on some actually comfortable robes. Although you had begged your mother to let you wear your favourite lavender shades, your mother has refused and put you in the darkest and most sweltering maroon gown. It was safe to say that you were a panting dog by the time you got out of the gown.

Picking up your quill and paper, you smoothed out the creases as you thought about what to write to your best friend back home. Gaeul was the kind of person to find out everything about someone before loving them, no matter what methods she used, so it wouldn't be a problem if you wrote 'i think the Prince likes dancing because a girl told me an extremely insignificant detail' in the letter to be sent to her.

Dipping your quill into the ink pot, you were about to start your letter when-

Knock knock knock

The door tapped thrice. It was safe to say that you were confused. Lunch was just five hours ago and it wasn't even dinner time yet, the sun hadn't set even though the sky had turned a deep purple.

Donning a clock over your robes, you stepped out of the comfortable silks of the bed and strode over to the magnificent, carved door. Tugging on the handle, the door made a creaking noise at it opened, making you cringe at the sound. You caught a figure lingering at the door. The same girl was there, the one who had led you here earlier today.

"Oh hello there." You said, opening the door to its full length, "What is the matter?"

The girl shuffled her feet before your eyes fell on her hands. A tiny black box.

"Someone left this in my chambers with a note attached to it your Highness." She said, "It gave the instruction to give it to you."

You looked at the box with uncertainty before snapping your eyes up to the girl. You took the box from her, your finger gently brushing against hers.

"What is your name?" You questioned, realising that you hadn't asked for it before. "Giselle, Your Highness." She answered, still looking at the ground.

"Thank you Giselle. You may go now." You shot her a smile which she returned meekly and scampered off.

Closing the door behind you, you eyed the box with uncertainty. What if it was some poison which wafted into the air as soon as you opened it? What if there was a lizard inside? You really did hate those dumb creatures. Thousands of thoughts flooded your mind as you looked at the box. You were reminded of your father's words to stop reading so many books with plots of bloodshed and mystery. As if you'd ever stop.

Caressing the box with your hand, you noticed how fine of a quality it had, it couldn't have been sent by any ordinary person. You lifted the lid of the box with hesitation running through your veins, only to find inside......a necklace?

A dainty pearl necklace lay inside the box, along with a tiny note, which you did not notice at first. You were far too captivated by the shimmering necklace. Pearls were a rare occurence in Witchelm, with it being a landlocked kingdom. But Tarnow, you had heard, had a vast coastline, so pearls were easily found.

You pondered upon who it could have been sent by. A secret admirer perhaps? The thought did excite you. But who on earth would send a box like this in these times?

As your thoughts ran wild through a forest again, your hand slightly tilted the box, and the note fell out. You bent down to pick it up and immediately took note of the fact that it was paper which was used for royal decrees. A secret admirer from the ministry?

Unfortunately your mind was disappointed as you ran your eyes through the note.

Wear it for me princess. Love, Heeseung.

Of course. A secret admirer, what were you even thinking? No one would have the courage to give the princess of a foreign country, a pearl necklace.

Rolling your eyes, you settled the box and the necklace into a drawer and put the tiny note into a separate one. The prince had a handsome signature, far better than your scribbles anyway.

The western wing had never seemed like a more interesting place

"I hope you find the chambers a comfortable place my dear?" The Queen's voice rang in your ear. God the atmosphere of the dining table made your hands sweaty.

The little conversations you had with the King and Queen weren't enough conversation for you. It was too.....formal, to regal. You wanted fun, but you knew you wouldn't get that. Not until tonight atleast.

Your plan to sneak out into the western wing was extremely flawed but you had not a care in the world. So what if there would be hundreds of people standing guard? You were quick on your feet, a dancer's gift.

You had silently observed Heeseung throughout the dining session. He seemed quiet, all the talkative ones do at first glance. You noticed the way his foot tapped away every now and then without a care and his fingers drummed his fork in hand. You hadn't a single idea if it was on purpose or not. You had read in the book Gaeul once loaned you that artists, like painters or dancers, can never keep their body still. They always have to be doing something with their hands or feet. So either Heeseung was secretly a painter, or he was a dancer. The former seemed to have more possibilities but it could always be the latter considering Giselle's words about the western wing.

Only one way to find out.

Your skin was filled with goosebumps as you walked down the chilly corridor. You were greatly surprised that there weren't many guards, perhaps Tarnow cared less about security.

You shouldn't doing this, this is dangerous, said a voice in your mind, but did you ever listen to it? No, no you did not.

The western wing was easy to locate, what with the huge painting of a woman pointing her finger towards a large corridor, with the words "Western wing" engraved onto the painting. It was darker than the other parts of the castle, maybe it was a secret wing shut off to everyone else except the Prince. There weren't many doors here either, which caused you to let out a sigh of relief. The dancing room would be easier to find.

And it indeed was, as you now stood in front of a huge oak door, the only one for miles on end. You hoped fervently that it wouldn't creak like the door to your chambers. And to your relief, it thankfully didn't, and the spectacle inside made you let out a gasp.

The prince.

So he wasn't a painter after all.

He was a dancer!

A plain show of beauty, you thought, the Prince was. He looked ordinary at first glance, but now, as your eyes trailed his moving figure, his feet gracefully gliding across the floor, hitting each moment to the melodies of the song he was humming, you'd have thought it was Apollo's incarnate himself. You were mesmerized by him, by his every movement, he was gentler than a swan with his fingers, his robe moving in sync as if he had been commanding it.

My my, he looked like a groom in need of a bride, you thought. You didn't know whether it was past midnight yet, even as the clock struck itself and made a loud noise, you were too distracted by the dancing prince. You would have loved to watch him for a bit more, if not for-

CREAK!

Stupid door!

Heeseung's head whipped around to the door as his humming and dancing stopped abruptly. "Who's there?" He cried, clutching his hand to his sword belt, "Come out!"

There was only one idea in your mind at that moment.

Run.

You hoped fervently the next day that the bags under your eyes would be put off by everyone as exhaustion from the long journey. You hoped that no one thought "Oh the princess obviously must have sneaked out to the dance room and ogled the prince!" Although the possibility of that happening was very low.

You slyly avoided the Queen's questions about your sleep by asking her about when the royal potrait of the groom and bride to be would be painted. And she responded with much happiness that it was to be this afternoon!

This afternoon. With the prince. Wasn't that a joy?

Your schedule was much packed that day, which was disappointing since you had wanted to sneak out to see the main ballroom which Giselle had informed you was in the Northern wing. First, you had to get into your gown for the portrait, which would easily take the entire afternoon. Then the actual portrait session would arrive and God knows how much time a simple layer of paint will take to dry.

"Do you paint my darling?" The Queen asked. "Yes." You answered, knowing damn well you couldn't draw a line if you wanted to. Well a lie in a lie is a truth wasn't it?

Afternoon arrived and so did the sweat drops on your forehead. Damn this gown, you thought as you dragged the heavy on the floor. You decided the first thing you'd do after becoming Queen is ban whatever material this is.

Approaching the door where the Queen had directed you to, you took the handle in hand and tapped it thrice to let whoever was inside know that you had arrived. "Come in." A familiar princely voice answered.

Oh great.

"My Lord." You sunk into a curtsey, not letting your eyes meet Heeseung's. Had he always been this tall and handsome or were you dreaming?

"Heeseung, princess, call me Heeseung." He wore pride quite well in his cunning smirk, you thought, as you looked at him quintessentially.

"Then you may call me by my name as well." You replied, glancing behind him to see an easel propped up, "Where is the painter?"

"Oh him? He's always late." Heeseung leaned back against the table behind him, "So princess, enjoying the palace's attractions?"

"Stop calling me that." You said, rolling your eyes out of annoyance, "And if the attraction is you, then no I'm not." He made the word seem like an enchanting melody, the handsome bastard.

"Would you prefer darling?" He smirked, pushing the stray strands of hair out of his face again. He looked like a siren, pulling you into an ocean you wanted to escape from, but didn't know how.

"Say, my darling," he leaned forward, looking at you with darkened eyes, "You're still a virgin aren't you?"

"Why, do you want to corrupt me?" You scoffed, settling yourself down on the loveseat, "Well bad luck, I'm not."

Heeseung looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes widened and he blinked a few times, but he composed himself quickly.

"Ah we have a little liar do we?" He chuckled lowly, his eyes still looking you up and down, "So you're a bad girl aren't you?"

"I don't care Lee." You crossed your arms, "This is just a marriage for politics, there's no way in hell you are going to magically make me fall in love with you, like in the books."

"You read romance?" Heeseung cocked his head to the side, "Well there's a thing we have in common."

The door to the room burst open before you could get another retort out and you breathed a sigh of relief as the painter rushed in with his assistants and started running about arranging everything.

You were even more thankful when you had to sit down for the portrait, far away from Heeseung. Although a weird pose, you supposed the painter would magically make something out of it.

Heeseung was more interesting that you had previously thought. Atleast he didn't treat you with the insufferable respect most princes did. He was....cocky, rude, daring. A rather sweet taste on your tongue.

Oh how you couldn't wait to sneak out to the west wing again.

You remembered to bring a shawl this time, draping it around your shoulders so that the cold, carved rock of the palace wouldn't let your skin break. You cursed yourself for almost knocking over a piece of what looked like driftwood sitting atop a table, willing aways it's time. The kingdom of Tarnow really had its unusual traditions.

The conversation you had with Heeseung today ran in your mind over and over again and again. You liked the taste of him, the way he stood, the way he held himself. And the way he spoke. You were going to have to come up with new retorts everyday. Well that's more interesting than suffering a life of 'i love you' or 'i will die for you'.

But for now, peering at him through the slightly ajar door was more than enough. Oh how he danced, the movements he made, an astral ballet in the air. He looked at peace, that cocky and confident demeanor was no more, it was replaced, instead by calm and cool. Your eyes tried not to linger to his waist and arms, how his shirt pressed tightly against his muscles. The sinful thought of having a touch of them echoed through your mind. The curve of his body fascinated you, oh he looked as pretty as an angel. Perhaps there is more to Heeseung than you thought.

"She's interesting, too Interesting." Heeseung drawled, as he chewed on his quill tip. To his right sat Park Sunghoon, another crown prince, who had inherited his kingdom without marriage and without everything Heeseung despised. At the moment, he was the only one who could provide Heeseung some comfort.

"Interesting as in she didn't fawn over you or interesting as in she's no a virgin?"

"Both." Heeseung answered leaning back in his chair, "And she's such a mystery, god I want to know more about her."

"There is a thing called conversation you know." A third voice called from across the room. A red haired man was sitting atop the table, casually willing away at grapes.

Kim Sunoo. The youngest crown prince.

"Oh really?" Heeseung smirked, "I though conversation wasn't mandatory or what was it you said last time Sunoo? 'Conversation is only for the loveless?'."

"You know who I meant it for." Sunoo rolled his eyes and hopped off the table promptly, "Anyway the Princess of Witchelm seemed a lovely character. I had a brief incursion with her out in the garden, and she's.....interesting."

"That's what hyung said too." Sunghoon popped a grape in his mouth from the table, clenching his face at the sour taste, "Just run up to her and you know, ask her what she likes."

"Great advice, Sunghoon."

"As if you can do better."

The gardens of Tarnow were a place you reveled in. The freshly mown grass, the sweet scent of daffodils, and the sight of bees almost everywhere elated you. And most importantly, the willow tree.

The grandiose tree reminded you of someone who knew what they were worth, like a Queen who knows exactly what she wants. That's who you wanted to be. A Queen who rebelled, headstrong like your mother always told you to be. And you would fill the streets with dance, music and laughter. Maybe even prompt Heeseung to show off his moves....

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Death would have been more pleasurable than to endure Heeseung right now, as his voice disrupted your peace and quiet.

"You owe your hand in marriage apparently." You stared straight at him, not daring to break eye contact, which was hard considering how menacing Heeseung's stare was.

"Admiring the willow eh princess?" Heeseung plopped down next to you, landing on the grass with a soft thump, "You know, I planted this when I was an adorable child."

"Adorable?" You scoffed, "More like a fiend." Heeseung chuckled at your statement, turning his head to look out towards the landscape.

"I planted most of the trees in this garden." He said, staring ahead with unwavering affection in his eyes at all the greenery, "They've grown a lot since then, my mother says that planting them at a young age allows them to grow with you." The love in his tone made you want to coo at him, but you composed yourself, remembering what kind of a person he was.

"Was that too cheesey?" Heeseung smiled, turning his eyes to yours. "Just a little." You responded, not having the heart to break the moment.

The silence that followed was a dire one, but it was peaceful. Heeseung and you sat in it as if you were fluent, letting the breeze whip your hair about, and the grass seep into your veins. You were so immersed in the butterfly landing on the daffodil that you didn't even notice the leaves sticking to your hair.

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest right now, princess." You heard Heeseung laugh as you turned your head towards him. "Excuse me?" You said, pulling your hand up to stroke your hair, being horrified when you pulled pieces of leaves sticking to it.

"Oh for fuck's sake." You mumbled under your breath, "Ah damn this, I'm going back to the chambers. Good day, Heeseung."

"With a nest in your hair?" Heeseung raised a cocky brow, "Princess, be logical. No one is going to respect a future Queen who looks like she's walked out of a jungle." Heeseung's words were mean but true, "You know I can just remove them, if you ask kindly with that pretty mouth of yours."

You had never wanted to slam his head into a wall more than now. But your reputation also mattered. You were torn between the two choices; Heeseung or risking your reputation?

"Fine." You sat back down on the ground, "Take them out."

"Nicer, princess. Add a pretty please too."

Oh he was on thin ice. You rolled your eyes and grumbled, "Could you please take these leaves out of my hair? Pretty please?"

The scent of Heeseung's neck pressed to your nose as he leaned over to remove the leaves carefully. He touched your hair rather gently, as if you were a fragile doll, which surprised you. Your hand kept lingering at his stomach, holding itself back from touching his muscles.

"There." Heeseung leant back, "All pretty princess again." "Thanks." You muttered, making your way to get up.

"Uh uh uh princess, we aren't done yet." Heeseung pulled you back down, making you snatch your hand away from him, "I want to strike a deal with you."

That night as you watched Heeseung dance gracefully on the stone floor, you wondered how this was the same person you had met in the morning. The same person who had made you a wretched deal, now danced under soft candlelight, unaware of his future bride watching him through clandestine corners.

"Meet me in my chambers tomorrow, and I'll think about not spilling to everyone, your little 'pureness' secret."

Fuck the world. That was your first thought as you woke up the next day, got dressed, had breakfast, had a conversation with the Queen, and made your way down to Heeseung's chambers.

For what purpose must this have been done? For what purpose did you have to be betrothed to a man like him?

"Fine day, isn't it princess?" Heeseung smirked at you from behind his desk. Papers and scrolls were strewn all over the desk, along with ink pots and a couple of what seemed to be drying paintings. A few more were hung up on the wall.

"Is this why your mother asked me if I paint?" You traced your finger over a dried painting of a daffodil. Still life, boring as it may be, still caught your eye. Heeseung smiled to himself.

"She asks everyone that, thinks her grandchildren will be some sort of prodigies." "Grandchildren?" You looked up from the painting to Heeseung's smug face, "We aren't even close to friends and she wants grandchildren?"

"Rule of Law princess, there's an entire book about it." Heeseung leaned back, spreading his legs a bit further, god that shirt stuck to his muscles well.

"What am I doing here anyway?" You scoffed, sitting back on the chair facing him, "You want me to do your assignments or something?"

"Assignments, actually." Before you could blink a huge stack of papers lay in front of you, all stamped with decrees, "And in return you'll get some get sex and your secret not being spilt."

"Good sex?" You laughed haughty, "I highly doubt that. Especially from you."

"You think I can't fuck you better than your lovers?" Heeseung raised a brow at you, leaning back against his desk. "No I don't think so." You simply replied, reaching out a hand to get one of the decrees, but it was caught by Heeseung and before you could even flinch, he had you pressed against the desk.

"Want to test that theory?"

Your retort stuck in your throat when you engaged in a searing kiss and your lips met aimlessly—a real mess of tongues and teeth. Heeseung licked a strip across your teeth and thrust his tongue deeper, exploring the inside of your mouth like a sacred temple with only one chance to visit. Heeseung opened his mouth and gasped, lingering with a few more short, honeyed kisses between his panting breaths and your muffled moans. You scolded yourself for even getting a sound out of yourself at Heeseung's touch.

Heeseung's hand moved up your thigh, and you pressed your mouth to his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

"That's not the ideal place to leave a mark princess." Heeseung glared at you, to which you merely shrugged your shoulders. So what if Heeseung had a few hickeys on display to the kingdom?

Heeseung's hand travels upto your back, easily removing the dainty dress you had on. You silently thanked Giselle for giving you a dress instead of a gown today.

“is this what you wanted?” you slid your panties to the side, as Heeseung was about to reach further down your slide. He wouldn't have admitted it but he almost drooled at the sight of you. Taking a second to admire you, his voice echoes through your body, “I wonder how many others can have you like this.”

"Not many." You keep your eyes on him, "none of them fuck me as well as I want them to."

You lean forward a bit, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage. You decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of your bra's strap.

Heeseung's exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" His voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

The world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. You feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation. Heeseung's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

Your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as Heeseung's hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. You can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

His fingers catch the waistband of your bottoms. Heeseung traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips a finger underneath, swiping two fingers along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze. He presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. You groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. You rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

"Fuck you're a tight one." Heeseung smirks into the crook of your neck, taking in your delicious scent, "Is this good enough for you princess?"

His half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger. He coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. He nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. The squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

You can feel the tightening of your stomach, your intestines begging for air as your mind wants nothing more but to break free. The sweet edge of release feels better than ever with Heeseung than anyone else you've ever done this with. Fuck was he good. Just as you felt his finger sweep across your cunt one more time, and hot liquid come upto your cervix-

"Heeseung!" You gasped, feeling the painful feeling of having him pull his finger away from you. His smirking face added the fuel to the fire of your anger, as he slowly bent away from you, collapsing onto a chair and spreading his legs far. God did you want yourself propped on that thigh.

"I already told you princess." Heeseung's smug voice infuriated you, "Sex as a reward remember? And you haven't done anything so no reward. Simple logic."

"fuck you" "When princess?"

You were thankful Heeseung didn't make you work all night, you had time to admire his dancing again. He seemed so different when he was alone, so much more gentler, and it only made you hate him more. Why all the cocky behaviour when he was surrounded by people? You liked this softer side of him. You wished that he would get the courage to show that side to the world. Maybe in due time as all things come.

The rest of the days went the same. Rise and shine in the morning, greet Giselle as she gave you your bath, breakfast and burrowings, rush off to Heeseung in his chambers, do your 'assigments' whilst glaring at Heeseung, who glared back, get the desk a bit messier than it had been, and then sneak off to the western wing at late night to watch Heeseung. It was a bit redundant, but you liked this. Maybe it was the fact that Heeseung was someone who made you cum properly (although you wouldn't admit it) or maybe it was the fact that, from the past few days, he had started opening up to your more.

Ignoring the fact that your time with each other consisted of making angry retorts, you noticed that now, you knew more about Heeseung than before. His friends, family, ancient history, his hobbies everything, from A to Z was in your memory now. And you had to admit that you liked knowing more about him.

His sunlit eyes everyday as they silently perked up at the sight of you, the way his mouth dropped to give you the daily retort along with a tiny compliment too, the way his smirks now turned into smiles, and the way he leant nonchalantly against the great willow, when you'd go out into the garden for a little rest. Was this the love the poets described?

"Good news princess." Heeseung strode into his chambers as you stretched your neck from sitting in the chair all day completing a decree, "We're having a ball."

Collapsing on his bed with a thump, Heeseung groaned as he stretched out his aching limbs. Jay really did always do a number on him in practice.

"A ball?" You questioned, rising from your seat, walking over to the bed and climbing on, "For us?" Heeseung looked at you and nodded. "It's supposed to be a pre-pre-pre wedding ball, according to mother dearest."

"Will there be dancing?" You asked excitedly. You hadn't danced in so long that your feet longed to be in some tap shoes and a big flowy gown again.

"Yep, and guess what?" Heeseung smiled at you, "We're going to dance together."

"Oh I am an amazing dancer." You bragged, raising your chin high, "So it's fine if I outshine you right?"

"Please, I am much better at dancing." Heeseung sat up, facing you, "It's fine princess, they'll notice you at the wedding if they don't at the ball."

"Dance for me then." You gave him a cheeky smile. Would he agree? This is what you had been wanting for a long time. "No." Heeseung merely said, checking his bitten nails.

"Are you that horrible of a dancer?" You chuckled. But before you had time to laugh more, a fluffy pillow landed straight on your face with force. Heeseung's smile had never been wider.

"Don't do that you bastard!" You cried, picking up a pillow and hitting his shoulder with it to which he laughed raucously. "Or what?" He laughed again, hitting you with the pillow repeatedly. Stray feathers let loose from the pillows but you had not a care in the world as Heeseung chased you around the room with the pillow clutched in his hand. This had been the most fun you've had in ages.

Young love? So refreshing for a narrator isn't it?

You looked stunning. Your reflection, clad in soft hues of your favourite colour stared back at you, as your eyes ran up and down your body, hugged tightly by the fabric.

The ball had came sooner than you had anticipated, maybe it was the fact that you were so excited for it.

You'd be dancing your heart out tonight. With Heeseung. How you had longed to match his movements for so long, and now you finally had the chance.

"How do I look?" You meekly asked Giselle, who looked like a jewel in her own gown. "Like a true Queen, my lady." She giggled, dipping into a tiny curtsy.

"Shall we move then?"

Heeseung hadn't been too excited about the ball. He had seen too many of them to be entertained by any. And plus, there wasn't a proper lady to dance with either. Where were you? His thoughts, which were running aloof, came to a halt as his eyes landed on someone descending from the staircase.

Was that....you?

Indeed it was, as he blinked his eyes a few times to get into his mind the fact that you, his bride to be, were walking down from the staircase, looking like someone he's always loved for centuries. That, he did, but of course he wouldn't tell you that. Your snarky remarks from time to time, the way you smiled at his retorts and the way you remained a complete mystery to him, no matter how much he found out about you. Love, love, love, was what Jay had told him.

"My lord." You dipped into a curtsey in front of Heeseung. God he smelled exactly like the willow, enchanting and sweetly poisoning. You tried your hardest to avert your eyes from the tightly hugging fabric around his arms and his belt too. You fervently wanted your hands to be tied to it.

"You look pretty, princess." Heeseung winked at you, wrapping an arm at your waist, but not before giving you a look of access, "May we?" He motioned towards the dance floor, where a few women and men had their arms wrapped around each other lovingly. Would Heeseung and you ever be like this, you thought, as he led you over to the marble floor. You would have liked that, you'd have liked that a lot.

You could feel the eyes on you as Heeseung took your hands to his lips and pressed a small peck there. "Ignore them." He smiled up at you, "Time to show off your dancing, princess."

Gulping down the breath you've had in for a long time, you gasped in silence as one of Heeseung's arms pressed against your waist in a position for your waltz. You took your breath in accordance with Heeseung as the violins whipped their bows and the grandiose music began.

Dance was often described as the art of the soul, you'd never seen a living example of it, until now, as your entire body and mind moved in synchronisation with Heeseung. It felt as if dancing on a cloud you've longed to be on, when you were swaying with him. His grip on yours, his eyes tracing yours, and his demeanor being the one of the swan you had spied on in the western wing, it enchanted you, pulled you in to the whirlpool of Heeseung himself. You could have stayed like this forever, swaying in a gown with Heeseung at your start.

Heeseung was intoxicated as well, it was sweet venom lacing his veins, as the clandestine rendezvous of your movements got him to the highest of highs, one that even the most addicted couldn't have reached.

"Enjoying the view?" You cocked a brow at him, noticing the way he was staring at you. You were thankful that a lot of other people had joined the dance and you weren't the only ones dancing now.

"Funny, I was about to ask the same thing." He smirked at you, his eyes tilting down to your cleavage.

"You've seen more than just my cleavage and it's still driving you crazy isn't it?" You raised your chin, "Pathetic, Heeseung."

"Pathetic is it princess?" Heeseung's voice dropped to a low, as he leant over to your ear, his breath hitting your cold skin, whispering words that made your breath drop.

"More pathetic than the western wing?"

To be continued.....

Taglist: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @yunabi436 @kvmariii @sacrificeatmeup send an ask to be tagged

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

Text

fear of the dark

summary: ghost is teaching you to evade enemies before your little game turns into something darker

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, light hunter/prey dynamic, unprotected pinv, fingering, creampie, mask stays on, knife play, name calling, outdoor sex, biting, est relationship

“It goes on like this, green light means it’s active, the red means it’s off” He tucks the comm behind your ear, securing it before pulling his hands back. “This button is to talk, you have to wait for a second for the feed to run through but if anything happens, you tell me”

“Got it, green on, press to talk”

“And keep to channel 4”

You huff a breath, “Okay”

“You ready?”

“What do I get if I outrun you”

“A new skill"

“Boo”

“And if you win” You’re voice is quieter,

“You’ll find out” His thumb strokes across your cheek, “I’ll give you a head start, no leaving the property line, use what I’ve taught you and stay out of my sights, if you make it to sunrise you win”

You smirk, “See you at sunrise”

Turning around you march away from him, moving at a rushed pace, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, the ground is dry which means your tracks will be harder to find, moving your way towards the woods you spare a glance behind you, his large frame relaxed against the side of the house, illuminated by the single light outside as his hands cling to his vest his eyes glued to you.

It’s pitch black outside, the moon provided minimal light through the branches of the tree, guiding your path, you know he doesn’t have his night vision but he’s an expert at finding tracks, one of the few skills his father taught him when they’d go hunting.

You’re breathing heavy as you stumble over rocks, walking for what already felt like hours, navigating around the dark trying to cover your tracks. You make sure to stick to dry ground, knowing that if you stepped in any mud he’d notice the footprints and be on you in an instant.

You reach a small clearing in the woods, deciding it was as good a place as any to take a small rest, you’re not sure how much of a head start he gave you but you know you can’t sit for long. It’s strangely quiet, only a few noises of squirrels running through trees fills the air, there’s no wind or birds, all you can hear is the sound of your own heart, thudding in your ears.

You glimpse at your watch, it’s only midnight, the sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours and you had a lot of ground to cover. Pushing yourself from your position you continue through the woods, avoiding patches of leaves and sticks that could snap as you walk.

Your legs are aching by the time you reach a small stream, trying to navigate your position, doing your best to recall where the stream started. It’s tempting to just jump in, the humid air of summer doing little to cool your sweat beaded skin, the effort of moving up and down hills taking its toll on your muscles.

Fuck it.

If anything it’ll be harder for him to find you in the stream, pulling your boots off and stringing them to your backpack you step in, the coke water forming goosebumps on your skin as you wiggle your toes through the stream. You bend down to grab a hand-full, splashing it against your warm cheeks in an effort to cool down, letting it trickle down your neck as it wets the collar of your shirt.

“Oi, you there?”

His voice rings through your comm, you move to respond but stop yourself, if you answered now he’d know exactly where you were, the noise from the water would echo through your mic, directly into his earpiece.

You jump out of the stream quickly, moving a few paces away so that it was out of earshot before pressing your finger to the button.

"You miss me already?"

“Just checking in"

"Sure"

“Don’t be a brat”

“What are you gonna do about it” You tease through the comms

“Wanna find out?” His voice is deeper

Your hair suddenly stands on end,

He waits a beat, “You need to focus”

“I am”

“What if I was an enemy”

“What are you gonna do, you can’t even find me”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?"

The line drops and so does your heart, realizing that he could be directly behind you a sense of panic sets in, you jump back into the stream, following its flow as you rush through the water, your feet splashing it onto your clothes as you make your way through, praying it would cover your tracks.

You’re on edge, the silence of the forest now gone as every twig that snaps grabs your attention, your head on a swivel as you reach a small pond. Stepping out of the water and pulling your boots back on, you squint your eyes around trying to catch a glimpse of him, your breath catching in your throat everytime a branch shifted.

You move further into the woods, checking your watch again 1:36 how had it only been an hour and a half, it felt like forever since you stepped into the trees, the soothing chill of the water now gone, your legs ached from your efforts.

“Are your pants soaked?” His voice breaks your thoughts,

“What?”

“Water was a nice touch”

The line drops again, he’s at the top of the stream which gives you a little bit to gain some distance, tugging your bag around your shoulders you hike further.

Everything starts to look the same, all the trees are reminiscent of each other, you’ll admit you’re lost, but not to him, he’d accuse you of giving up and you didn’t want that. You try your best to navigate your direction, trying to use the stars as some sort of guide but it’s useless, the clouds in the sky block half your view and you can’t remember anything about astronomy anyway, your brain too clouded by the pain in your body.

Your breath hitches at the noise of a branch snapping, your heartbeat now in your ears, you didn't factor in how scary the woods are at night, every sense heightened in the dark.

"Simon?"

You call through your comms but there's no answer, it's dead air, your nerves on fire now, your we’re alone completely, you really didn’t think this through, didn’t stop to consider what would happen if the comms went dead.

You see a small light to your right, squinting your eyes to figure out what it’s from, hoping it was a street light of some sort you move toward it, moving past trees and fallen branches to get to it.

You’re huffing for air as you approach it, your eyes almost shut as it nears, blinding you, you shield your face with a hand,

“What’d I tell you about strange lights”

Your heart drops as you hear him, the crunching of leaves under his boots as he moves near you. You stumble back from him, head turning to find some sort of escape route,

“What’d I tell you love”

you swivel your head from his form to behind you, “They’re deceiving”. In a burst of adrenaline you take off, running away from him as he fades from view, it’s unnerving the way he just walks, he’s not chasing you, it’s like he knows where you’re going.

You’re feet carry you faster than you can think, twisting around trees and over hills, the taste of metal in your mouth as your palm runs over your stomach, a cramp settling into the muscle. You rest against a large oak, closing your eyes and catching your breath, your skin on fire as you try to focus on the sounds around you.

You wait a moment, bracing yourself before turning your body to move, gasping as you feel a hand tug you back.

“Gotcha”

You’re gasping for air as he pins you against the tree, his hands clamped around your arms, keeping you from fighting back.

“Okay, you win, let’s go home”

“Not without my prize”

“Simon, please” Your body is weak against his, no energy left in your muscles as he invaded your space, his chest pressing against yours, the fabric of his vest digging into your flesh.

“You didn’t listen”

“What?” Your brain is a fog

“You did nearly everything wrong, I could’ve had you the minute you stepped into the woods”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, you’ll learn”

Your hooded eyes plead with him, begging to go home, to rest but finding no sympathy, he leans his face towards yours, his chin next to your neck.

“I think you wanted to get caught, wanted to see what would happen”

His words click in your head, the heat from your skin suddenly transferring to your core, your arms straining against his grip as you let out a small whimper.

“That’s it, isn’t it, you wanted be to find you, to teach you a proper lesson”

He squeezes your arms tighter when you don’t respond, his eyes moving to stare into yours, his gaze is dark something darker behind it.

“That’s alright love, I’ll give you what you want, but you have to listen”

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid yourself of the ache between them as his hand trails down your side. He removes it for a minute, your stomach flinching as you feel the press of cold metal against it, it forms goosebumps on your skin, he trails it toward your breasts, teasing it through the valley of them before placing it under the hem of your shirt, splitting the fabric up the middle.

The cold air hits your skin causing your nipples to harden as he traces the blade over your skin, pressing it flat against the raised buds.

“You look good like this, all ready for me to use”

Your chest maintains a steady rise and fall, “Si-“

“Not this time love”

Your face falls as you watch his face, the shell of a skull staring back at you, “Ghost, please”

He pays no attention to your words, running his knife along your skin before settling it above the hem of your pants, wriggling your hips to sooth your arousal.

“Needy little thing aren’t you”

He removes his hands from you, giving you an out but you stand in front of him, weak fingers working to undo your pants, he watches as you stumble to step out of them, leaving you in your underwear, the chill outside doing little to settle your nerves.

“Such a perfect little thing” He runs a gloves hand over your breasts, humming as you let out a sigh. Your body freezes as his knife makes contact with your skin again, trailing it towards your core before using it to cut your panties, letting the fabric drop.

He flips the blade, teasing your thighs with the handle of it before he runs it through your folds, biting back a gasp, there was no way to hide your arousal now.

He pulls his knife into view, your slick coating the handle, glistening in front of your face “You’re fucking soaked, you little slut”

“Open your mouth”

You do as he says, flattening your tongue and pushing it out as his hand cups your jaw, holding it open. He runs the handle across the muscle, the taste of yourself dancing over your taste buds as he pushes it slowly into your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you gag around the handle. He watches the string of spit that forms between you and the weapon as he retracts it from your mouth, his eyes glancing toward your core, your unsteady legs holding you up as he brings the weapon towards it.

“Do you think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes, please Ghost”

He teases the handle between your folds, holding it against your weeping core, forcing you to clench around nothing.

Your head falls forward as he pushes it into you, the rough material running along your walls as he pumps it into you. Your hand reaches to brace on his shoulder, holding yourself up before his free hand connects with your throat, pushing you back against the tree. Your body is on display for him, his head looking down to where your cunt is swallowing his blade, groaning at the sight of your slick leaking from your core.

“Greedy little slut, you’d take anything wouldn’t you”

You shake your head, your voice strained by his grip on your neck,

“You will, you’ll take everything I give you”

He thrusts the handle into you faster, tightening his hand as you start to grind yourself down on it,

“Need more, please”

“You wanna cum on my knife you fucking slag”

“Please” You open your eyes at him, your face flush as you silently beg, he releases your throat, allowing you a breath as his gloved hand meets your clit, you arch your back at the contact, the rough circles providing enough stimulation that you feel your knees weaken.

“Do it, cum for me”

His fingers rub along your bud and you come undone, your fingers digging into his vest as you cum with a sob, your body falling forward against him as his fingers work you through your high. He feels you finish, pulling his knife from you, listening to you whimper from the loss of contact as he throws it to the dirt.

His arms lock under your thighs, hoisting your weak from against him and pressing your back against the tree, he grinds his clothed erection against your cunt, your core soaking his pants as your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna take it, all of it”

Your pussy clench’s at the thought, your ears failing to hear hun unzip his pants, the tip of his cock reading through your folds, smearing your slick around your thighs as he lines himself up.

You bury your head in his neck as he pushes in, the stretch of him burning your walls as he stuffs his cock inside. His hands grip your waist, moving you further down his length until his tip is buried in your cervix, your fingers digging into his back as you whimper around him.

“That’s it, gonna fill this tiny cunt”

He holds you against the tree, keeping you up as his hips pull back, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrusts it back in, his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his cock into you, forcing you to take every inch.

“Fuck, can practically see myself in you”

He holds you with one arm while the other presses firmly to your stomach,

“Gonna split you on my fat fucking cock, you’d like that huh?”

His hand makes contact with the side of your ass when you don’t respond,

“I said you’d like that, wouldn’t you”

“Yes!” You scream, the heartbeat in your ears overpowering any other noise in the area as he moulds you to his cock.

“Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, let you walk around with my seed in your cunt, dirty fucking whore”

He buried himself deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out only to force his length back in, the weight behind his thrust bouncing you up and down, his eyes watching the way your breasts jump with every pump of his cock.

His fingers trail to your sensitive clit, pinching the bud, you let out a yelp, bearing your teeth into the base of his neck as he grunts, you mark his flesh as his grip on you gets tighter, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you drop your cheek to his shoulder, the saliva in your moth dripping to wet his collar as he works another orgasm from you.

“Cum on my cock, want you to soak me, feel you squeeze me with your tight little cunt”

The bark of the tree scrapes against your bare skin, forcing you to arch into him, his cock driving deeper into you as you sob around him, his fingers circling and flicking over your clit, the band inside you stretching as your body melts.

You clench down on him, greedily taking every inch as you cum, your slick dripping from your core to wet his cock, your cum coating the opening of his pants as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the friction from his pubic hair adding another layer as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re reduced to whimpers as he takes over all your senses, all you can hear, feel, see is him, the way his cock has you full, his grunts filling your ears as your gaze is stuck on him.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, such a perfect little slut”

You cling to him with weak limbs as his knuckles go white from his gold on you, his arms rising you up and down to meet his thrusts as he chases his high,

“That’s it, fuck that’s it, taking me so well”

He quickens his pace, fucking you ruthlessly, your aching core sucking him in as he pushes his length into you, his tip buried deep inside your walls as he holds you against his chest. Your lower stomach warms with the feeling of him spilling inside you, flooding your core as you sigh, your pussy fluttering as he pulls from you, watching his seed leak from your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, making sure it all stays in.

He holds you for a moment, letting you regain your composure before gently letting you down, his hand on your waist holding you steady as he removes his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form providing some sort of warmth.

You watch him with heavy lids, your body swaying at you try to stay upright, his stare is softer now as he bends down, his arms snaking under your legs to pick you up, holding you against his chest.

“Did so well love” He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of his body warming your cold limbs, “Let’s go home”.

He maneuvers around carefully, holding you steady as he moves around the trees, his gaze shifting to you every minute to make sure you were okay. He makes it out of the woods in minutes, the warm light of the windows coming into view as your body grows tired.

He carrie’s you into the house, slowly making his way towards the bathroom, setting you down for a moment so he can turn the tap on the bath on, he kneels in front of you, his hands tugging his mask off so you can see him, giving him a weak smile as he gently removes your remaining clothes.

He helps you to stand, walking towards the warm bath, feeling your muscles sooth as you step in, the water washing over your skin. He strips his own clothes, feeling the water rise as he sits behind you, his legs bent beside your frame as you lean back against his chest.

He runs a gentle cloth over your skin, cleaning up any dirt and grime that was on it, carefully cleaning around your core before his arms settle around your stomach, holding you close.

He rests his lips against the crown of your head as you focus on the sound of his breaths, steady behind you, lulling you to sleep as his thumbs trace over your skin.

#tw: dubcon #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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theoxenfree · 2 months ago

Text

TINCTURE OF ACONITE

werewolf x "magic" practitioner!reader | 2.4k

a man is told about a dilapidated inn on the outskirts of the village that houses a practitioner of unsavory sorts. he seeks you out to find a cure for his affliction—lycanthropy. with blood on his hands, at the mercy of a fate of cruel uncertainties, he has no choice but to take on the task you give to him and the catch that comes with it: he must decide if he deserves to live or die.

warnings; dark fantasy, mentions of blood and mutilation, a very dark interpretation of lycanthropy, very evasive interpretation of what a "practitioner" is, mc smokes, theological discussion, derogatory insult (e.g. bitch), roughly proofread.

this is the first of my prompts fulfilled for my personal october writing project! this was also the prompt that won the first poll!

i would appreciate it enormously if y'all would please reblog + leave me feedback on this! particularly if you'd be interested in seeing this as a full story down the line!

From the hawk-nosed widow selling stale bread and wrinkled, gray potatoes with mysterious growths, he'd learned about a dilapidated inn fringing the northwest end of the village. There, she had said warily, with keen and wise eyes showing wide whites and tiny bloodshot threads, he would find the answers to everything he had never asked for.

He would find the Practitioner.

It took him less time than he thought to find his way across the village, away from the cursory and reluctant and distrustful looks as he lumbered through in his heavy boots and loose-fitting black tatters he'd sewn together himself time and time again. His face was haggard, skin wet and ashen, and he couldn't remember the last time he held a blade to shave his face, tame his long, dark hair.

To the townspeople, he must've looked like a wildman; uncivilized; belonging to the deep wood and meadows and smelling thickly of untouched nature, mud, and musk. Perhaps, now, he was just that because he also could no longer remember a time where he'd been welcome to sleep in a bed, ate a meal cooked and seasoned to be used with cutlery, allowed himself to be gripped by scalding water and bath salts, reveled the touch of another person.

Upon reaching the inn sometime later, a tiered, hulking structure which seemed to rot from the inside out; the middle of the massive thing bowing inward as though slowly being sucked underground—into hell, he was greeted at the entrance without ever having needed to knock.

“Second floor,” was all the older fellow said. A man with unhealthy grayness to his complexion that rivaled his own. All of the vigor, pink liveliness was long gone from his face and his eyes reflected nothing—not a want, a wish, a worry, or thought beyond remembering to move one foot after the next to keep locomotion.

He moved beyond the gaunt, wispy fellow who quietly closed the door, then shuffled off through another threshold leading elsewhere. He'd been instructed to go to the left, to the end of hall and through the door which faced him.

When he did this, the somnolent dreariness of the world outside fell away and he was sucked into silence filled with static. The room was sentient, almost, swirling with immense wafts of burning herbs, fragrant flora, dark tendrils of smoke emerging from wilted candle wicks and the cherry flickers at the tips of them.

“Well, aren't you a sad sight!” Your voice was deceptively upbeat in comparison to this room, this place. He noticed you seated in a high-backed chair padded in ripped red velvet, a large table stretched out before you and sprawled with many, endless things. “It isn't easy to find this place. Who told you about me?”

“The potato seller at the village.” He said.

You pressed a flat, metal tip between your lips and sucked in on some weird instrument, blowing out a profuse cloud of faint, purple smoke which smelled otherworldly and familiar.

“You mean the widow with the crazy eyes?”

“I…suppose so, yes.”

“She's crazy, you know?”

“She told me you'd be able to cure me.”

You smiled like he'd just told you an amusing joke, wooed you a bit in the process. He watched your teeth come out from behind your lips and clench down on the metal tip.

“Cure you? She wouldn't have used those words. She despises me and likes to think people she sends my way meet their death. What a vindictive old bitch. She’ll get hers one day.” You said, then gestured to the empty chair opposite the table to you. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, though. We’ve only just met. But, I know a desperate man when I see one. I know a cursed man when I see one.”

The chair was uncomfortable, not at all wide enough, strong enough to bear his form but it did not collapse under his weight, only creaked and whimpered. You were observing him as casually as he would have had a friend a long time ago, with such little regard for safety, little fear of this brawny and moody stranger sitting across from you at a table with countless, shatterable objects.

It occurred to him after an awkward moment of silence (on his end, you were perfectly at ease), you were waiting for him to diffuse his anguish, his worries, his curse—why he was really here in this room with you now. Only, he wasn't sure where to start, nor what information he could give that you'd consider pertinent apart from the rest.

He'd forgotten how to speak to people during his long, lonely solitude as well, it seemed.

“The woman—the widow—she told me you're a practitioner in the Devil’s Magic. Is that true?” he mumbled, for one second considering taking one of the hundreds of baubles on the table to turn over in his hands. “I do not much believe in any of that. The workings of any god or evil, it isn't related to my affliction. But, I want to know if you're actually capable of curing me, or a charlatan scamming the poor to be even poorer.”

You exhaled more of the luxurious smoke from your strange pipe before finally setting it aside to take up a round flask made of clear glass. Despite it appearing empty, something unseeable sloshed within—water, perhaps—and it smelled foul when you uncorked it.

“Devil’s Magic,” you seemed to consider his wordage with a derisive smile, but he had a feeling this wasn't about him. “That old wretch is something else. Handsome Sir, I am a lot of things and no one important. I am no witch, wizard, magician, druid, and I am certainly no charlatan. I might be able to help you with your case of lycanthropy.”

Hope reignited in his eyes, still but a dull flicker waiting to be snuffed as it had many times before, yet he always dared to feel this way whenever a possibility arose.

“I—never mentioned my affliction,” surprised as he was, he now knew he'd made the right choice spending his afternoon finding the inn rather than continuing onward for the next town. “How can you be so certain that's what I suffer—”

“A man of your destitute and good manners aren't the types who get stricken with vampirism or cursed by hags. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'll bet. A good man, loyal to a fault to an… owner? An employer? A lover, perhaps?”

You were staring over his face searchingly at the end, carefully winding your wrist with the nauseating, invisible concoction in your hand. For a moment, there was nothing but silence as he considered the meaning behind your exact curiosity, trying to pry an answer from you with a stern look he'd used to terrify and award himself some small, scarce comforts.

When you didn't falter, he slouched deeper into his seat, clearly defeated by your eccentricity and dumb fearlessness.

“Thousands of miles away, I once served a Duke and a Duchess as their guard. One night, I was sent out as the baleful cries of some beast had sent My Lady into a frenzy, my My Lord into a fit of rage. Those lands were cursed, everyone was well aware, but I've never thought above my status and so I went.

“The night was all around me. Something lurked in the trees, perhaps lost souls, perhaps something else. The mist moved as though alive, a limb, an arm, an extension of the forest itself and I could scarcely see. But then, I saw it: an enormous, bent creature in a man’s torn clothes. It had the vicious face of a wolf, yet it could walk upright like a man and when I gave chase, it could sprint unlike anything I'd ever seen.”

You were leaning to one side of your throne now, an arm bent on top of the armrest while you swiveled the bottle, still watching him as though he were simply divulging some asinine discontent.

“I—” he paused, breathing arrested behind the rise of ugliness in his throat, something that tasted as vile as it was to remember.

Until then, he had been speaking to you quietly and sullen, like a man resolved to his fate. But now, he listened to his own voice fracture, quiver, and croak. Beyond that, his face and ears burned, aching from embarrassment, every emotion he had belittled himself into hiding away.

“I—was restrained by the damned thing and it took a chunk out of my side. I thought it would rip me apart; part of me wishes it had. Everything after that for a while is a blur to me even now, and I never remember the instances when I… change… only that the night calls to me, the moon a siren’s song.”

“Have you killed anyone as a beast?” you asked.

The mention made his gaze shift down to his hands which still groped the bauble, finding it a safe thing to concentrate on in that moment. Fortunately, the impossible heat in his head was quickly receding and he could once again fully regain clarity.

“I would have to believe so, yes,” he chose to say, honestly. “When I become the monster, I never have a recollection of the things that happen. But, I've awoken enough times covered in blood, surrounded by mutilation to ever claim otherwise.”

Now, you had the pipe back in your mouth and were inhaling the dreamy fumes. Letting the purple haze out of your nostrils. You were no longer looking at him, instead skittering the vastness of things across your tabletop, obviously in search of something.

“I want to be forthright with you, though you've only kept an air of mystery around yourself the entire time,” he started, replacing the object back on your table with the rest. “Either, I want your help for a cure, or I want you to develop a poison that will kill both myself and the beast inside of me.”

Your eyebrows ticked up, conveying the most emotion he'd seen out of you yet. “Those are both extremes. I cannot promise you anything because I am not a practitioner of magic or miracles. I am simply: the Practitioner. You will be the one to decide your own fate, for I cannot decide it for you.”

“I don't understand.” He looked at you helplessly, weathered and weighted.

From among the mass of stuff before you both, you pulled out a small notebook bound in leather, secured with a strap. You resumed puffing away on your pipe once he took it from you, studying it with some measure of apprehension and revulsion.

“This notebook contains many different specimens I've studied over, oh, some years. One of those specimens is a plant called aconite. You must find me a bushel, along with a handful of other things, and bring them back to me for me to create the tincture you need to either be cured or poisoned.”

He examined the notebook front to back several times, as though all of his answers would suddenly materialize across the covers. Of course, no such thing happened. “You have this table of the strangest things I've ever seen, and yet you don't have the things needed to create the tincture. I’m finding you to be a liar.”

You gave a great huff of exasperation, blowing purple smoke towards him in retaliation. “And I'm finding you to be among the dullest of men I've ever met. These things that I have do not serve a purpose to individuals. You must be the one to create the tincture for yourself. It is the intention behind it; your thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and desires. You have to decide what you truly think you deserve—what you truly want.”

“That is witchcraft,” he said, incredulous. “It's magic!”

Again, you gripped the metal with your teeth and smiled around it. “Is it magic, or is it the power of your own thinking? Is your lycanthropy the result of a beast or your own illness? Will you live or die? I can't answer those things for you.”

“Then, I must go.” He found a pocket inside his coat that hadn't worn or torn with all his previous transformations and tucked it there. When he rose from the crackling chair, wood springing back to life once he was out of it, you surprisingly stood with him. “I'll find the answers I need. I'll return to you with these things.”

You were less awful seeming up close, a normal person dwarfed by his size. It was an odd feeling to be in such close proximity to someone else, one who didn't shrink and cower beneath the severity of his face—the dark brows and dark hair and unshaven jaw. But, you stood there with him next to the door to let him out, unafraid and fixed in your confidence that he would bring you no harm.

It moved him.

It moved him so deeply that he reached for your warmth, or your illusion, and kissed you deeply. He relished the touch of your lips, the press of your body against his, and the taste of your fragrant smoke which was effervescent and sparkling in his mind.

He could have taken you to bed right then, lain naked with you, damp with sticking skin while tangled together in an embrace, luxuriating in the afterglow.

But, he could not answer those desires while with his affliction as you would die, and he couldn't burden that sort of grief after knowing the touch of another. He even wondered, with some shame, whether he deserved to know someone of your caliber, your mysticism and wisdom, after slaughtering men and women whom he'd never know the names of. Those whose families would never know closure.

He kissed you once more, letting it linger and swell with his feelings before he let you go and went for the door.

“I'll return to you.”

You still had your pipe and smoked it, smiling evenly and contentedly.

“I wonder what you'll choose in the end.”

#werewolf x reader #werewolf #werewolf x human #werewolf x you #werewolves #monster x you #monster x human #monster x reader #oc x reader #oc x you #original character x reader #original character x you #writing #original fiction #reader insert #reader interactive #monster story #monster romance #dark fantasy

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shogunish · 1 year ago

Text

𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗲.

pairing. true form! sukuna x f! reader

genre. some sort of romance (?)

contents. set in the heian period, true form sukuna, reader is a concubine, after sex + casual nudity, creampie, violence, blood, mediocre poetry that i wrote myself

summary. sukuna who neither loves nor hates anyone, finds himself attracted to the poetry you write so elegantly.

words. 2.4k

note. based on this random sukuna thought i had.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

you had no other choice but to bang your fist against wooden gates in the pouring rain, mud staining your once white robes and strands of hair sticking to your face like a second skin.

"please, let me in!"

what else were you supposed to do when a swarm of curses suddenly terrorized your village, eating your parents' flesh alive and feasting on their corpses once they had died of shock? you had barely made it out of your home, throwing stones at the winged cursed spirits in hopes of gaining some sort of distance, an advantage.

"i'll do anything! i swear!"

you banged your fist harder until splinters pierced your skin and jumped off the wood. but the pain of it wasn't greater than the anguish of losing your loved ones, your home – a place you could no longer return to, a graveyard for the living.

tears of despair ran down your cheeks and you sobbed. wings flapped in the distance. you didn't need to turn around to know that those cursed spirits had caught up to you in the matter of a few minutes. horror crawled up your spine, slinging itself around your neck like the burn of a noose.

"please! i'm begging!"

your heart had already given up when you sunk to your knees, your mind made peace with the fact that this was it. but before you even knew what happened, someone grabbed the collar of your robes, dragged you inside and tossed your body into a puddle of mud like..like you were nothing.

"huh..?" sitting on your knees, your head shot up and your eyes widened once they caught sight of your savior and downfall.

he looked like a beast. four arms and two faces with pink hair slicked back amd an aura that nearly suffocated you. a pair of his arms was crossed over his chest, red eyes glared at you, stared right through the essence of your soul.

ryomen sukuna.

your grandparents always told you stories about him, but you never believed that anyone, or rather anything, like that could exist. nothing but a scary fairytale meant to teach children not to misuse jujutsu or else he'd eat them in their sleep. but he was real. silently, you wished you had listened to grandma and grandpa.

sukuna didn't ask for it, but your trembling body was on autopilot when you lowered your forehead to the wet ground and squeezed your eyes shut.

"do you have any idea how loud you are?" his voice was deep, obviously annoyed by your obnoxious begs and pleads to let you in, to grant you shelter from a horde of lousy cursed spirits.

you dug your fingernails into the ground. "m-my apologies.." your voice died in your throat, hoarse from screaming and begging and trembling out of pure fear. "my village..it got slaughtered and i..i just.."

"did I ask for any of your excuses?" sukuna couldn't care less about your sob story you tried serving him in an attempt to keep your life.

you were about to apologize again when clawed hands grabbed your cheeks, jerked your head upwards and forced you to look at sukuna who appeared to be bored out of his mind. wide-eyed, you stared at him with mud, tears and blood on your face. truly disgusting did you look.

"you said you'd do anything?" sukuna questioned as he regarded your fear-stricken face that looked like it was about to cry again when you dumbly nodded your head.

despite that, he had to admit that your skin seemed well taken care of and the fabric of your robes was neither too shabby nor too expensive. you were neither a farmer nor a noble, but something..in-between.

you reminded him of a poem he once read.

"the ugly little duck that many would have slaughtered

grew into a beautiful swan with grace unknown and beauty unmatched."

a silly swing of mood was all it took for sukuna to change his mind. originally, he wanted to spill the blood of the person who disturbed his rest, but he decided to give you chance to grow into something beautiful, something even someone like him could admire like the poetry he liked to read.

"you'd make a fine concubine." a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

was this..it?

you'd get to keep your life in exchange for pleasuring a mass murderer? you cringed at the thought and had half the mind to say that you'd rather be fed to the wolves than existing for a man's pleasure, but then..the images of your killed loved ones flashed before your eyes.

saying those words out loud would result in a painful, slow death. those cursed spirits would tear the flesh off your bones until you'd die of shock or blood loss.

you yielded. you did say you'd do anything.

"yes..i shall be your concubine as a sign of my gratitude."

those words sealed your fate.

sukuna called for someone named uraume, an androgynous-looking person clothed in monk robes and they took you inside where you were not only granted a bath but also a fresh pair of robes. they said they'd show you around the coming morning, that you would be to sleep in a room with the other concubines and that you had nothing to do but satisfy sukuna's sexual desires.

if you were to disobey, you would die.

just what had you gotten yourself into?

sukuna liked to believe that he didn't care about anyone. people, humans, were nothing but the dirt underneath his feet. maybe even the ants he'd squish if they were lucky enough. but even a curse such as himself found himself drawn to one of the arts humans gave birth to.

it was poetry.

those words would likely never reach sukuna's soul, but he liked the art of putting words together, to think about their meaning. after all, writing was the same as laying your soul bare – similar to showing your nude body to strangers like one of his many concubines.

in full bloom were the cherry blossoms, plum and vibrant. a spring breeze blew by and the engawa creaked underneath sukuna's bare feet. the pond's surface was disturbed by the occasional koi fish getting a little too close to the sun, the water rippled silently before coming to flawless stillness once more.

one more step and a glance towards the ground – what was this? sukuna bent down, picked up a piece of paper and upon turning it around, he was met with fine, onyx brush strokes and a neat handwriting. it was poetry.

sukuna shouldn't be as interested as he was, but maybe it was the good mood he had which allowed him to indulge himself in such silly thing.

"dreams are like bubbles.

fragile and transient, one touch and they cease to exist.

so why is it that i keep blowing bubbles,

hoping that the wind will be more gentle with them than my own fingertips?"

"if pain is time, then this must be eternity."

"his claws, so sharp and lethal and drenched in his arrogance's blood, almost feel as gentle as the breeze ringing in the spring."

and when sukuna raised his gaze, wanting to find a trace of the person who wrote these lines with such anguish, ruby irises found your form sitting underneath a tree. a little book was in your hands, black ink on the tips of your fingers as you dragged the brush across the paper. a faraway look in your eyes and glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you wrote down word for word.

who would've thought that a mere concubine, a woman whose purpose was to please sukuna in any way possible, was capable of creating such beauty? of executing such etiquette and carrying the brush with the sorrows of days gone by.

what else was going on in your mind, in that little soul of yours?

"sukuna. is everything alright?" uraume asked as they emerged from a sliding door. they had just come back from aiding the maids with a task that they needed help with and upon coming back, uraume immediately noticed the foreign expression on sukuna's face.

was this..awe..curiosity..or something entirely different? they couldn't tell.

sukuna crumpled the piece of paper in his fist. "yeah. no need to worry." he reassured his subordinate, but..those words were directed to himself as well.

soon after, sukuna requested you more often and kept you by his side for a little while before you'd pick up your kimono from the ground to go back to your own chambers to wash the sin off your body.

candles lit up sukuna's chamber, dipping the walls in hues of orange and yellow as the flame flickered. paintings as well as weapons made for war decorated the space – tools which still scared you, because what could a being such as sukuna do with these weapons? he could likely do worse than just murder you, you thought.

a sheen of sweat coated your nude body. your breasts rose and fell with each deep breath you took and sukuna's marks littered your skin. his bites on your neck, fingerprints on your thighs and the marks of his claws on your hips which were partly bloody. semen leaking from your entrance, you shivered.

"may i assume you're satisfied for the night, sukuna?" you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes still hazy from your orgasm.

sukuna's lower arm was wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. it was the most gentle touch you had ever received from him.

he hummed as if he was in thought. "..not quite."

immediately, you squirmed into a more upright position, eyes wide and shimmering even in the dim light. "i promise i can do better! if you let me just–" deft fingers attempted to raise the blanket from sukuna's lower half, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"no, not that. rather.." he trailed off, watching the confusion grow in your eyes. "..i desire to know whether it's you who's lost a page of poetry?" sukuna's voice was deep, smooth like velvet, yet as dark as the abyss in his pupils. "the other concubines wouldn't even know how to write poetry, so..the only one left is you, [name]."

heat rose to your face. ashamed, you raise the blanket up to your collarbone as if it could hide the words sukuna had found. "..how did you..?"

"i found it when i stepped on it." sukuna was gentle when he cupped your chin with his clawed fingers and made you look at him. "consider me impressed."

surprise was written all over your face, lips parted, eyes wide and all that. you swore your heart was beating in your throat. did sukuna, the king of curses, just praise you?

he never praised anyone.

"..pardon..?" you breathed out. was this some kind of dream? a lucid dream? or maybe you were put under a spell? whichever it was..it felt pleasant.

"i'm not going to repeat myself." sukuna brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking the strand behind your ear. "but i am going to keep you by my side. it appears that you're good for more than meets the eye."

that night, sukuna handed you a brush, ink and a piece of paper. he kept you by his side the entire night, wanting to hear the words you put to paper until you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and his marks on your skin.

people said that love came all different shapes and forms: platonic love, familial love, erotic love, the love one held towards a pet and so on. if one were to ask sukuna what sort of affections he held towards you when you sat by his side, filling pages of poetry for him to read, he likely would remain silent.

because as arrogant as he was as the king of curses, as much as he didn't care about anyone but himself, he could not deny the fact that, in your company, he found peace amidst the violence that he caused himself.

sukuna liked the way you sat next to him with no fear, gentle eyes focused on that little notebook and a brush in your hand. silently would you sit next to the catastrophe that was sukuna, pouring your feelings onto paper that would one day fade and crumble like leaves in the wind. yes, even your tranquil self would one day fade into nothing like the ink on your papers.

"will you miss me when it's my turn to go?" you asked without looking at sukuna. a few cherry blossoms petals got tangled in your hair.

sukuna was gentle when he used one of his hands to pick the petal out of your hair. he should've said no without hesitating so long, because despite your appearance, you were awfully perceptive – that much sukuna had learned.

a smile graced your lips. seated next to sukuna on the engawa had become your favorite pastime even though he would use your body later on with no regard for your aching limbs.

"what? am I dear to you?" you teased the king of curses. within the last few months, you had become attuned to each other without meaning to.

"..if it is possible for a curse to love."

a sigh slipped sukuna's lips. he begrudgingly entertained your thoughts. "it seems that my treatment towards you has got to your head, [name]."

at that, you giggle into your notebook, eyes closed and the apples of your cheeks tinting a hue of red. "maybe a little bit. i was merely wondering if.."

sukuna was certain that he didn't love you, but rather the words you wrote. they flowed like water, written with grace unknown and beauty unmatched. each syllable was either fragile like a petal or sturdy like a warrior on horseback. it was funny how your poetry was a reflection of yourself.

when you sat next to sukuna, you were tender but when he'd order you into his chamber, you'd take and obey his orders like a samurai with nothing but moans on your lips.

"my affection has nothing to do with you." sukuna said after a pause.

"how sad." you mused, putting your brush down. "a being who has been living for so long and never experienced any sort of love. it must be lonely."

that day when you pressed a kiss to sukuna's cheek like a lover would, he wondered…if maybe you were attached to him instead.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna

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wcnderlnds · 1 month ago

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──★ dracula's vacation home / peter maximoff

requested by my bestie @xmidnight-rain ily for always giving me things to write. halloween / fall drabbles with prompts from here. feel free to request any <3

Worn out silver Converse scuffed against the wet dirt, Peter’s footsteps heavy as he followed you through the graveyard. Not exactly the first place he would’ve chosen for a hang out but he’d follow you anywhere. It was ridiculous the hold you had on him. Whatever you said, he came running like some lost puppy. He supposed it was because you were the only person that really gave him the time of day. Everyone else put up with him but you actually listened and willingly seeked him out. Peter had never really had someone like that in his life so if you wanted to traipse through a graveyard during the middle of the night then who was he to say no?

He hadn’t been paying attention when you came to a stop, fingers playing around with the buttons on his walkman (making sure he hadn’t lost it or some ghoul hadn’t stolen it from him to jam out in the afterlife) instead of watching where he was going and he ended up walking straight into your back. “Oof,” he took a step back, the mud splashing over his favourite shoes. It was fine – he’d get his mom to clean them later. Just because he was an adult didn’t mean he couldn’t still rely on her. How was he supposed to know how to get dirt off a pair of Converse anyway?

“What we lookin’ at?” He asked, arms folded across his chest. His dark eyes adjusted to the dark, the dimly lit lamps in the graveyard doing nothing but casting an orange glow about the place. Before him stood a medieval stone looking building – small with carvings etched into it, the heavy door slightly ajar. He knew exactly what it was. A damn crypt. “Ah, hell nah.”

“Peter, come on! It’ll be fun,” you pleaded, your delicate fingers grasping at the bicep of his arms.

“No way. I’m all for a little late night stroll in a creepy graveyard, babe, but ain’t no way you’re getting my ass in that dank…” he leaned forward towards the door a little, taking a sniff. He backed off immediately, face scrunched up. “...stinky crypt. Who the hell knows what’s in there! Could be some murderers hiding out or… maybe whatever person died in there rose from the dead and turned into a zombie and all they’re waiting for is two dumbasses with small brains to take a casual wander inside. I am not going in there.”

“You scared?” You challenged him.

“Me, scared? Pfft,” he rolled his eyes, his voice giving him away.

“What if I go in and you keep watch?”

“See, now I’m really startin’ to believe you’ve lost your mind. You think I’m about to let you roam around inside Dracula’s vacation home by yourself?” Despite the fact he so adamantly didn’t want to step a foot inside the place, he pulled the door open. “Fine but if we die, I’m haunting you for the rest of our undead life.”

You took the hand that he had outstretched for you, fingers lacing together as you pulled him inside. Peter was second guessing it the second the sole of his foot stepped down the first step but this was for you. And, unfortunately, he’d do anything for you.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @xmidnight-rain @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @juliamaximoff @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf (im forgetting ppl im so sorry just lemme know again <3)

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #quicksilver x reader #my fics #halloween/fall drabbles

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serverusslaype · 1 year ago

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Shameless, pt. 2

Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hello there, we meet again it seems? B)

here is part two for Shameless. i tried my best proofreading it and editing some bits, but there is a high probability that there's some bits i missed. i did get distracted changing some things.

i really like this chapter, i feel like it starts to give you an idea of the reader's feelings towards snape. >B)

also, i won't lie, Camila Cabello's Shameless did inspire this fic, and it especially fits the moment between the reader and snape here.. hehe

hope you enjoy, please let me know! <3

anywho...

off we gooo!

Your first class had gone smoothly, apart from a little mishap where a student had cast Incendio instead of Lumos Solem. You'd quickly extinguished the fire with a quick Aguamenti, much to the amusement of your class. As of right now, you were trying to clean the soot and ash off of the table with a wet cloth, your fingers starting to ache and burn from the harsh grasp you had. Sighing, you should have seen this coming... a mistake was a given for a class of second-years. It didn't surprise you that the student at fault was none other than Neville Longbottom.

You'd kept him after class, not to scold him, but just to make sure he was alright. The boy did give himself a fright.

"I-I'm really sorry, Professor," Neville sighed, his eyes glued to the floor as he stood in front of you with a sad expression. "I just got my spells mixed up." He explained weakly, braving a glance at you.

"It's alright, Mr Longbottom, but you do need to be a little careful next time." You said, throwing a kind smile his way. He nodded frantically and his eyes were instantly locked on the floor again. You were sure he was bracing himself for a telling off. "I'd rather not have my classroom burn down on the first day, you know." You joked, trying to lighten the mood. You knew Neville didn't do it on purpose, he had a good heart and you'd noticed in class that he was rather clever at Herbology. So you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The boy smiled weakly at you, nodding once more. "I will, Professor." He said, swallowing anxiously. You gestured to the door, silently dismissing him. Neville quickly scurried out of the door, hurrying himself to his next lesson.

As he left, a rather big and exasperated sigh fell from your lips. What else could go wrong? You glanced around, your nose crinkling up in slight annoyance. The mess that was left afterwards was a little... headache inducing. Piles of mud sat on top of the table and some of it had found it's way onto the ground. Apparently, it had slipped your mind that teaching twelve-year-olds with messy materials would equal... well, a bloody big mess. Perhaps you should have thought that through a little better.

"Scourgify." You said, waving your wand at the large, wooden table that sat in the middle of the greenhouse. The specks and mounds of mud suddenly dissipated from the table, and you were suddenly very thankful for magic. A content smile came to rest on your face as you turned around to walk towards your row of potted plants, your eyes landing on a rather beautiful Aconite, also known as Wolfsbane or Monkshood. Unlike the other free-flowing plants, you'd placed it inside a glass case due to it's dangerous toxicity. You did trust your students, but you preferred not to take the risk.

"Ah, Professor L/N, just who I was looking for!" Came an enthusiastic voice to the left of you. You twirled around, frowning as you did not recognise their voice. As your eyes landed on their tall, strawberry-blonde haired form, you clocked that it was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Gods, you weren't sure whether you had the patience to deal with this man right now. You'd actually rather deal with another bout of Snape right now, despite your bicker an hour earlier.

"Lockhart," You greeted softly, offering him a polite smile. You clasped your hands together in front of you, staying beside your plants. "What can I do for you?" You asked, hoping it was some sort of small favour.

"Merlin, you're just as beautiful as that utterly gorgeous Aconite beside you," Lockhart commented with a wink, his piercing blue eyes bouncing between your form and the fauna to your right. You groaned to yourself quietly. Lord, if he's just come here to get in your drawers, he'd better just walk out the door right now.

"Back to the point, Lockhart?" You sighed, massaging your temples as you felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, right, well.. what does one do when... one releases pixies in a classroom?" He asked cryptically, and you could only frown at him in utter confusion. Lockhart smiled innocently at you, and you could only arch a brow at him, waiting for more clues to what the hell he was getting at.

"Pixies...? What?" You repeated, still clueless. What the hell has this man done? And why is he getting you involved? It's your first bloody day back here! You just wanted a quiet first day... Is that too much to ask for?

"Would you please accompany me back to my classroom, Professor L/N?" Lockhart pleaded, running a hand through his perfectly-style locks. You tutted softly and rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to walk on. "It's easier if you see for yourself." He added and cleared his throat.

You followed the man to his classroom, the wind gently blowing through your leafy-brown and green robes. "What have you done, Lockhart?" You questioned him curiously as the two of you walked into the castle, rushing up the moving staircases as the clacks of your heels echoed out into the empty stone halls.

Lockhart chuckled awkwardly, keeping the grin on his face to soothe your worrisome one. You sighed quietly, preparing yourself for the worst as you rounded the corner to the door of his classroom.

With wide eyes of horror, you opened the door to the screams of students and the high-pitched cheers of Cornish Pixies. The hanging skeleton of a dragon had fallen to the ground, broken bone fragments scattered everywhere.

"Oh my-" You gasped, ducking as groups of pixies flew towards you. The students scurried like terrified mice around the room, a futile attempt to run and hide from the little purple terrors. "Immobulus!" You shouted, aiming your wand at the gaggle of fiendish pixies. Immediately they slowed down, almost like they were in slow motion. The screams from the students quietened down as they looked up, watching you quickly pushing the pixies back into their cage with your wand.

"Lockhart, you have some serious explaining to do!" You exclaimed and turned around, expecting to see the famous author, however, he was nowhere to be seen. An exasperated groan leaves your lips.

"Erm, Professor L/N, up here..." Came a familiar voice from above you. As you looked up to the source of the voice, you gasped in shock. Neville Longbottom was hanging from the chandelier by the hood of his cloak. Instantly, you flicked your wand at him, slowly levitating him to the ground.

"Not having a good day, are you, Neville?" You sighed, placing a hand against your cheek as you glanced around the room at the chaos. Books and parchment lay destroyed on the ground and desks, ink pots and quills were scattered amongst the war zone too. As you looked back to Neville, he shook his head and leaned against the table behind him, steadying himself. "Neither am I." You added quietly, mainly to yourself.

"Professor, what do we do now?" Another student asked. Looking to your right, it was none other than Harry Potter. You exhaled softly, feeling the frustration beginning to build up. Why was this happening to you? Did someone hex you? Gods.

You were clueless for a moment, you'd no idea what they'd been taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, let alone what you should tell them to do. So you improvised. "For now, just open your books and revise some of the material that you learnt last year, please." You said tiredly, gesturing to the books that had been knocked on the floor during the chaos. "I'm sure Professor Lockhart will be back soon." You clenched your jaw the sound of his name - how could he be so careless? You were not a janitor, so why were you cleaning up his mess? To be frank, you were more angry at him for putting the students in a potentially dangerous scenario - Longbottom was hanging from the chandelier for crying out loud!

You couldn't leave the students unattended so you walked to Lockhart's desk and sat against it, your mind racing with insults to hurl at the author when he finally returned. The students all quickly rushed around, picking up their belongings and sitting themselves down at their desks.

"Professor?" A student asked, quirking your attention. You looked up and smiled weakly at them, prompting their question. The boy had bright blonde hair, slicked back, and he donned a cunning smirk on his face. Draco Malfoy, of course. "Do you know anything about the Dark Arts?" Draco asked, almost mockingly. The boys surrounding him laughed. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

"Perhaps, Mr Malfoy." You replied nonchalantly. Honestly, you weren't very knowledgeable on the subject, it wasn't one of your strong-suits back in school. Of course, you knew bits and bobs of it, but you didn't believe you were fit to teach it.

"Perhaps, you can teach us a spell?" Draco asked with sly eyes, and you shook your head at him, prompting a disappointed groan from the said student. He was brave to be mocking a professor, you thought. Though, you weren't all too surprised, his last name was Malfoy after all.

"No, certainly not. Now, get on with your reading, please." You said sternly, almost at your wit's end. "And five points from Slytherin for being a smart-arse." You added, earning a scoff from the boy.

In all honesty, this is not how you expected your first day back at Hogwarts to go. You prepared yourself for a peaceful day - maybe with a few mishaps from students, but that was it. You did not expect to be pulled from a free period to deal with some rambunctious bloody pixies, released by a professor no less!

Currently, you were walking with McGonagall through the corridors, escorting the hoards of students back to their dorms after dinner in the Great Hall. The torches lit the way, casting a pretty amber hue against the bland stone walls. The air was a bit chilly, and so you wrapped your leafy-brown cloak around you tighter as the wind bit at your skin.

"How was your first day, my dear?" McGonagall asked you, glancing at you from the side as the pair of you walked behind the gaggle of students.

A deep sigh left your lips, inducing an amused chuckle from the older witch. "Oh, Minerva, you have no idea." You groaned and let your fingers grasp the bridge of your nose momentarily, a sign of stress.

"That bad?" She laughed softly, arching a brow at you. You could only give her a disbelieving look.

"The first class of the day went well, until Longbottom set my table alight. Then, Lockhart decides to drag me into his mess!" You scoffed, keeping your voice quiet. Unfortunately for you, Lockhart had been avoiding you since the whole ordeal, so you hadn't had a chance to give him a piece of your mind. "I could've just about killed the man." Clenching your jaw in frustration, you suddenly hear a kerfuffle of gasps and a growing noise of mutterings coming from the group of students ahead as they all immediately came to a halt.

"I'll kill you!" A loud, gruffly voiced shouted from ahead. Gods, what now? You weren't always this wound up, but today had really tested you.

"What's going on?" McGonagall questioned worriedly as she began to swiftly move through the students. You followed suit, a perplexed frown gracing your face. As the two of you rounded the corner, your eyes widened in horror.

A message had been scrawled out on the wall in what looked to be blood. It read: The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir... beware. As you glanced to the left, you noticed Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, was hanging from the metal torch-holder, blood dripping from her head. Your hand flew to your mouth.

"Bloody hell..." You muttered, stepping forwards to look closer at the haunting image.

Filch had a grip on Harry Potter's cloak, dragging him up to his face.

"Argus!" Dumbledore called from behind you, with Snape and Lockhart in tow. You stood back, allowing Dumbledore to step forwards towards the scene. As your eyes landed on Lockhart, his eyes met yours and they instantly widened. You glared at him and slipped past McGonagall and Dumbledore, your feet absentmindedly carrying you in his direction. Deep down you knew this wasn't the right time, but you couldn't hold back, he'd really angered you earlier. You reached out your hand and grabbed Lockhart's arm, dragging him away from the crowds of students and teachers.

With a muffled thud, Lockhart's back was against the wall. "If you ever pull that shit again, Lockhart, I will not hesitate to have you removed from this school. What were you thinking-"

Before you could continue scolding the man, a firm hand grabbed your arm and pulled you away from Lockhart. You looked up to find a set of piercing, cold dark eyes staring down at you. Snape. You felt your heart leap up into your throat and your cheeks instantly burned hot as he kept his hand on your arm. The scent of smoke, books and a hint of sweet wine filled your nostrils as he moved closer to you, your bodies almost touching at this point. His scent was utterly intoxicating to you, and that scared you slightly.

"Have you no brain nor sense of timing, Professor L/N?" Snape scowled at you and you sunk down slightly at the threatening tone in his voice. You looked away from him in a rather poor show of defiance. He kept his voice quiet. "I don't believe this is quite the right time to be scolding your colleague." The Potions Master said sternly, nodding his head in the direction of the bloody message. You looked back at Snape, pushing your jaw out in frustration. You were silently wishing that this wasn't the way that the two of you happened to be in such close proximity.

Ripping your arm from his grasp, your hand flew up to gently rub where he had gripped you so harshly. You glanced back at Snape, who now looked furious at you. Suddenly, it felt like he'd stolen the air from your lungs - you weren't sure whether that was because of your silly little crush, or his intense, fiery stare. Perhaps both. He was right, you should have kept your cool with Lockhart, but today had really pushed you to your limits.

"But Severus-" You protested, your anger bubbling as Snape silenced you with his icy words.

"I am not one to defend Lockhart, however, there is a serious situation at hand." Snape added quietly, though his cold tone was still there. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. "Not that it's my place, Professor L/N, but I would have thought as a Hufflepuff, you'd be abstaining from any sort of conflict, not... instigating it." He said, narrowing his hauntingly dark eyes at you.

"When it comes to stupid, incompetent mistakes that can endanger our students, I won't hesitate to say my part, Snape." You said frustratedly, leaning forwards as if to challenge him.

"Do not be foolish, Professor L/N," He stepped forwards, articulating each letter he spoke intimidatingly. You swallowed and flinched slightly at his sudden movement. As brave and courageous you painted yourself, he still did terrify you. Snape's glare deepened and he retracted himself slightly, letting his eyes flick between the pair of yours. "It seems you have not changed since your time here at Hogwarts. You are still that silly girl who did not think before she spoke."

Snape's words made you enraged. Your fists balled at the side of you once again, almost shaking. The muscles in your body tensed and went rigid from the rush of sudden anger that was coursing through you. Gods, how could someone make you feel such different emotions?

You scoffed and pushed past him, shoving his broad shoulder out of the way of you. As for now, you couldn't look at him, nor bear to be near him. You were worried you'd hex the man, or at least say something you'd regret. Despite your burning desire to hurt him back, you pushed the thought aside. You were the bigger person, and you would not stoop to his level. Unless it truly came to it, you suppose.

You stalked back to the other professors with Snape reluctantly trailing behind you. You stilled yourself beside McGonagall once more and she offered you a confused look, glancing between you and Snape as he came to stand near the wall, away from you.

You shook your head at her softly and shut your eyes for a brief moment, attempting to calm yourself down. This was not how you expected to start your second year of teaching at Hogwarts, conflicted feelings for your colleague, and developing a boiling bitterness for another. As the year progresses, perhaps you could fix it. Nothing is lost yet, right?

"She's not dead, Argus. She has been petrified." Dumbledore said in a soft tone, attempting to soothe the caretaker. Filch only stared at his beloved pet, shuffling in his spot, clearly distraught at what he'd come across. He was almost shaking with grief. A small wave of sympathy washed over you as you watched Filch try to compose himself. It couldn't be easy seeing something so dear to you hung in such a... morbid way.

However, that calm feeling was soon lost again as you saw Lockhart stood in front of Mrs Norris, inspecting the body. You quickly averted your gaze before your blood pressure rose uncontrollably and you spotted Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stood in a row, looking rather worried. Your brows knitted together in confusion.

"Ah, thought so." Lockhart said confidently, glancing back at Dumbledore. You fought the urge to scoff at Lockhart's comment by looking to the right and biting your bottom lip. Gods, this man was almost as infuriating as Snape this morning. "So unlucky I wasn't there. I know exactly the countercurse that could've spared her." Lockhart added, staring at Dumbledore uneasily. This time you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him as you folded your arms against your chest.

"But how she's been petrified I cannot say." Dumbledore added, ignoring Lockhart's useless comments, his wise eyes studying the scene at hand.

"Ask him," Filch nodded towards Potter, his voice shaky. You frowned again, glancing at the boy. Surely not? "It's him that's done it." The greasy caretaker added with a look of despair and anger on his face. "You saw what he wrote on the wall."

Harry let out a curt sigh before turning towards Dumbledore. "It's not true, sir. I swear." He said. "I never touched Mrs Norris." Harry gestured towards Filch's cat, who was still unfortunately hanging by her tail on the metal arm of the torchlight.

"Rubbish!" Filch hissed, still staring angrily at the boy.

"If I might, Headmaster?" Snape suddenly interjected, his deep voice softer than you'd heard it before. Your head instantly snapped up to look at him, shocked to hear such a tone of voice on a cruel man like him. "Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" The Potions Master offered, seemingly wanting to deescalate the whole situation. Since when is he considerate? you wondered.

"However," Snape added, his voice returning to it's usual cold tone. There it is, you thought, fighting the itching urge to roll your eyes. "The circumstances are suspicious." Snape said, walking slowly towards the three students, almost intimidatingly. "I, for one, don't recall seeing Potter at dinner." He narrowed his eyes at the three of them, stopping just short of a metre away. He seems to have a habit of doing that.

"I'm afraid that's my doing, Severus," Lockhart called out, making Snape turn around to face him with a face like thunder. You loathed how you couldn't help but stare at him. A whirling storm of resentment and admiration gathered in your stomach as you gazed at him. Undoubtedly, he looked ethereal underneath the amber-coloured lighting in this hallway, despite the unhappy and disdainful look on his face.

Fuck. You hated it.

The flames illuminated his prominent features almost too perfectly. His large, aquiline nose and high cheekbones would ultimately be the death of you.

"You see, Harry was helping me answer my fan mail." Lockhart explained, glancing between Snape - who looked utterly confused - and Harry himself. Lockhart's voice to you was like someone scratching nails on a chalk board. Every time he spoke, the hairs on your body would stand on end - and not in a good way.

You despised the fact that these two men brought out such a hateful side of you so easily.

"That's why Ron and I went looking for him, professor," Hermione spoke up, looking towards Harry. "We'd just found him when he said..." Hermione trailed off, staring at Harry. Snape turned back to face the three students, his eyes narrowing in suspicion once again.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Snape prompted.

"When I said I wasn't hungry." Harry interjected, looking back up at Snape. Ron nodded quickly in a nervous manner, glancing between the Potions Master and his friend Harry. "We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs Norris." The boy explained. To you, it seemed like a solid explanation, however, Snape didn't seem too convinced as he spun around to look at Dumbledore, waiting for his thoughts on the whole situation.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus." Dumbledore stated, looking at Snape through his half-moon glasses. Reluctantly, you looked at Snape as he arched a brow disapprovingly at the Headmaster.

"My cat... has been petrified. I want to see some punishment!" Filch cried out, commanding your attention to him. The man was shaking with rage, and it made you a little uneasy. You glanced back at Snape, your eyes lingering a little too long on him.

"We will be able to cure her, Argus." Dumbledore assured the man, still trying to calm the tense moment. "As I understand it, Professor L/N has a very healthy growth of Mandrake." The Headmaster said, tearing you out of your daydream. Your eyes flicked to Dumbledore as he gestured at your form. Looking to Filch, you offered a warm and sympathetic smile to him, nodding in agreement with Dumbledore. "When matured, a potion will be made which will revive Mrs Norris." He said, turning towards the Potions Master and the three students.

Snape had his eyes glued to you, catching you by surprise. You immediately averted your eyes from his as your cheeks began to burn, betraying you. The overwhelming, icy stare from Snape made your heart pound against your rib cage.

Get a hold of yourself, for Merlin's sake.

Dumbledore's voice cut through the strange tension between you and Snape. The two of you broke eye-contact and looked to the older wizard. "In the meantime, I strongly recommend caution to all." The Headmaster warned, capturing your attention. You nodded at the older man, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. "Professor McGonagall, would you mind escorting Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to their respective dormitories, please?"

"Of course. This way." McGonagall walked towards the three students, gesturing them forwards with her hands. You sighed softly and bid Dumbledore a warm goodnight, turning around to walk to your quarters. As you padded away, you turned around gingerly, your inquisitive eyes searching for the broody Potions Master that made your heart beat a little faster in two different ways. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have already left. A twinge of disappointment twisted in your gut, and you felt conflicted between your emotions. That close - and almost intimate - encounter with him earlier truly made you think about things. You couldn't choose between hating him or liking him. Gods, were you in trouble now.

However, as you rounded the corner, it seemed your luck was playing out. You spotted Lockhart striding ahead of you.

there we are, part two over! whew. i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it, and i hope there weren't too many mistakes lol!

if you want to be added to the taglist below, please let me know in the comments/replies :)

thank you for reading!

part 3

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

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