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porcelainseashore · 10 months ago

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Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Author's Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

Title from Heavenly Creatures by Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reined their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair.

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot.

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents.

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore.

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you.

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked.

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow.

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively.

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted.

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour.

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips.

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds.

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you.

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #religious au #church au #resident evil #fic: heavenly creatures #porcelainscribbles

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solbaby7 · 1 year ago

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Tripping Over You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, some typos, sexual tension, clumsy reader, just fluff

summary: Your lack of situational awareness has a certain Shadowsinger stumbling to maintain his patience.

—

If Azriel was being perfectly truthful, he didn’t like you much.

It wasn’t personal but in the time he’d known you, he found you to have an annoyingly bad habit of being completely unaware of your surroundings; always just barely dodging being flayed by some disaster.

Call it bad luck or just plain carelessness but Azriel fucking hated it.

His fingers twitched when he’d caught you in a pile of your own limbs on the kitchen floor, a knife held loosely in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face as if you hadn’t almost just shoved the sharp blade in your neck because you’d been too preoccupied to clean up the little puddles of water you left around. “Give me that,” He grumbles with a scoff, carefully snatching the blade from your hands.

Unintelligible words drip from his tongue and you watch wide-eyed, slowly rising back to your feet as the shadowsinger quickly finished the sandwich you were attempting to make, slicing it four ways with a huff and sliding it in your direction. “Thanks.”

“You need to be more careful.”

More of that went on for weeks.

Short, snappy comments on your inability to step out of bed without the possibility of breaking a bone, soothed over by Azriel just completing whatever task for you. His behavior should’ve deterred you; the deep scowls and gruff voice, the tension in his shoulders that formed when he noticed you in a room—but at least he always noticed.

Always had a hand curling around your arm when you tripped and was the first one to pull you out of the water after wandering off a little too deep. Water soaks your hair, dripping into your eyes and you’re weightless when he tugs you over to the more shallow area, seaweed sinking in your toes. “Why are you even in the water if you can’t swim?”

“I can swim,” It comes out choppy, cheeks red from all the coughing but Azriel can’t help the feeling that burns in his belly when you peer up at him, eyes glittering and full lips quirking at the corners. “Just didn’t realize how far out I’d gotten.”

He looks positively exasperated by your passiveness, chest rising and falling quickly with each breath and you’re no better than any of the other women who dared stare at the spymaster long enough to take in the true expanse of muscle that lies beneath those leathers. Rippling pectorals, biceps that flexed deliciously as he spoke; he’s more animated than you’d ever anticipated, usually offering nothing but perfect silence—or the occasional sarcastic comment towards his brothers. You’re not really paying attention to what he’s saying, eyes wandering down his form and he abruptly stops talking when he sees the way your eyes catch down his abdomen, mouth pouty and hair dripping down your shoulders. “Are you even fucking listening?”

“Not really.”

“Unbelievable,” The view when he turns is almost as amazing as the front, perfect dips and ridges of his back and broad shoulders enough to have you forcing your eyes away before you drooled enough to fill the lake three times over. Inky hair shines under the sun, hazel eyes snapping to you over his shoulder and shadows slink out to you in seconds. They push at you, urging you forward until your toes sink in dry sand.

Azriel lets you go ahead first, partially because he wasn’t a hundred percent confident you wouldn’t try going back—but mostly he just wants a better look at the bathing suit you’d slipped into. It’s nothing overtly scandalous but attention drawing all the same, skinny ties and bottoms that show enough to have his fingers twitching with want at his sides. “You’re staring,” Rhys informed, a bare elbow nudging into Azriel’s ribs.

“Because, I just don’t get it,” He’s referring to you, tripping twice over nothing on your return to the girls under the shade, your knees scraped from a tumble and a scarred hand reaches to cup the back of his head when Amren swiftly stabilized you. “How come when Amren finally decides to make friends it’s with fucking Bambi of all people?”

“She’s sweet,” Rhys shrugs, violet eyes regarding you no more than a sister but your beauty was undeniable. “So, she’s a little clumsy—big deal.”

“A little clumsy,” Az repeats, sounding genuinely annoyed and the High Lord can’t push back the growing smirk that tugs on the corners of his mouth. “She’s a liability, she’s going to get herself ki—“ The words die on his tongue, a low sound pulling from his chest when Azriel is forced to send a shadow out to stop you from slicing your fingers clean off with the dagger Mor had handed over to pry open the wine bottle. “Mother above.”

The air was fresh, a cool breeze sifting through quickly drying clothes under the sweltering sun and Rhysand could admit he’d seen his brother through many emotions. Anger, grief, disappointment, happiness—but never such mother hen like attentiveness; hazel eyes tracking your every move like a hawk. “Are you interested in her?”

“Are you insane?”

Rhys shrugged, bare shoulders going golden under the suns rays. “That answer varies depending on who you ask but that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“She’s—“ The words get caught in his throat, muscles tensing under the discomfort that grows under his skin because Azriel hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, he’d been slightly more involved than he’d originally planned but you just kept getting yourself into such trouble; he had no choice but to stay close behind to make sure you stayed safe. “There’s no way—“ Heat begins to warm the top of his ears and the shove he gives is less than gentle. “Oh, fuck you.”

Rhysand doesn’t seem phased, a teasing smile on sharp features and Azriel doesn’t miss the way the High Lord keeps trailing his eyes back to Feyre, her fingers raking through your hair until most of it was braided out of your face and decorated in an assortment of little flowers. You’re soft—a little too sweet and that obliviousness Az always grumbled about was a little noticeable in the way you allowed things to just happen around you. Fey deciding to do your hair, Mor topping off your wine before you’d even gotten halfway through, Nesta snatching at the book you’d had tucked in your bag and her eyes widen when she flips to a random page, a red tinge flushing her cheeks.

But the book shuts too quickly for even Az’s shadows to sneak a peek.

“You’re allowed to be happy you know,” Rhysand doesn’t look; doesn’t even let his voice get too loud in fear that his friend would shut down or disappear and never bring up a single personal thing again. “If you like her then just act on it. Mother knows we all could benefit from a little more happiness.”

There’s a pause and Rhys can’t get a good read on what Azriel’s thinking. “I appreciate that but that’s not what this is. She’s just a danger to herself and others—it’s better I keep an eye on her myself.”

A knowing smile on the Lord of Darkness’ face. “Right, of course.”

—

It only gets worse from there and while Azriel doesn’t catch onto it right away—Rhysand was definitely behind it. Conjuring up wisps of darkness to curl around your ankles and trip you up, forcing the shadowsinger to rush to your aid and somewhere along the way he ditches his sneer for just a soft frown. “Sorry,” You sheepishly allow yourself to be steadied, acutely aware of the large hands splayed at your hips. “I think I’m still a little tired.”

“I bet,” Azriel’s quick to retort, hands slipping away entirely too soon and the ghost of where his touch once was yearned for more. “Heard Amren and Mor have been introducing you to Rhys’ liquor collection.”

At the reminder your hand raises to press to your temple, a low grunt sounding under your breath and he finds your crankiness kind of adorable. “Yeah, they’ve been breaking me in.”

He swallows audibly at the word choice, hazel eyes stealing a glance at you from the very corner of his vision but you make no indication that you were intending being flirtatious—it still doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock. Giant wings bristle behind him and Azriel can’t stop staring at your night clothes; a tiny pair of shorts and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. Your legs look soft; bare toes padding against the floor until you’re perched on the stool, eyes still a little hazy with sleep but you don’t make a move to cook anything—not with Azriel around.

He would’ve stopped you if you tried anyway and then he’d start complaining about you not being able to touch the appliances after forgetting to turn the burner off one time—or four.

But, who was really counting?

It’s instinctual the way he grabs for some fruit and a bowl, washing and carefully cutting them; peeling bitter citrus off and leaving the sweet parts before sliding the blow over. “Eat.”

You don’t hesitate though you do sigh softly, feet swinging. “Did Amren hire you to like take care of me or something?”

His brows furrow, confusion growing at the question, at your tone, at the embarrassed expression sinking into such pretty features it makes Azriel’s stomach twist. “No.”

But you only nod, frown still present while you spear at fresh fruit. “Are you sure? I know you’re the High Lords spymaster and Ren told me how you like to keep an eye on things.”

Ren?

Since when did Amren allow nicknames?

“—mentioned how she’s had you look after a few prized possessions for her before.” You seem different to him somehow, more guarded and stern than he’d ever once seen you and it sends a shiver up his spine. Intrigue grows, the picture of you he’d been painting of some scampering baby animal was beginning to seem furthest from the truth with such contained fire behind your tone and suddenly he wonders exactly where Amren even found you.

“I have before, yes.” The kitchen remains silent; probably not for much longer with the steadily rising sun and the smell of hot food beginning to waft in the air as Azriel sauntered about the kitchen—chopping here and adding spices there, cracking an egg or two before cranking the heat up a little higher to cook the potatoes faster. “And no, she didn’t ask me to watch you.”

“Then, why are you here?” You clear your throat, seemingly aware of how it comes off and he can’t resist a smile when you look genuinely confused. “Why are you always here?”

“I’m still not a hundred percent sure about that yet but,” He doesn’t face you when he answers, shoulders stretching out a plain black tee with carefully cut out lines on the back nearly six inches in diameter to make room for the base of his wings. They hover high behind him, flexing and shifting with his arms as he moves and you find yourself a little transfixed—a trained killer preparing you breakfast in his pajamas. “—you looked like you’d been stumbling your way through life for a while,” You’re pleasantly surprised by the amount of care in his voice; hair mussed and pillow lines fading in the left side of his cheek and your eyes catch on the low hang of his sweatpants. “Getting passed off from one hand to the next, just allowing life to happen to you however it came at you and I guess—“ He lets out a deep breath, the words seeming to be a struggle to muster up, to say out loud and you stay quiet in fear of scaring him off. “I suppose I could relate to what that felt like once upon a time and I figured you could benefit from a little support.”

You’re quiet longer than he’d have liked and Az can’t tell if the uptick in your heartbeat is a good thing or not but his shadows urge him to turn—to look. You seem skeptical at first, eyes boring into him so intensely he felt like you were stripping him bare, pulling back his ribs and holding his heart in your hands; judging his character and his choices and the soul that resided somewhere in between.

It’s a struggle to remain calm, the cool disposition that Azriel had thought he’d mastered crumbled to nothing before his very eyes. Scarred hands take their time fixing your plate, piling on the protein and making sure to add the fruit he’d caught you wiggling over the last time.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” Someone’s awake, you can hear their footsteps against the glossy floors and a steaming piece of bacon is pinched between two fingers when you lean over and press a kiss to Azriel’s cheek; just a gentle pressure an inch or two away from his mouth but you might as well have just punched him right in the gut with the way it takes his breath away. “Thank you.” He’s still reeling when you continue, humming in appreciation over your food and his fate is sealing when you smile brightly at him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you aren’t being a prick.”

“Tolerable enough to let me take you out sometime?”

“I’m surprised you know that’s a thing,” You tease over your food, wisps of cool darkness careening through your hair and resting at your thighs like a napping feline. “—considering you’ve taken to just following me everywhere.” There’s a blush burning on the curve of his ears, shadows ghosting past your ear as a distraction and distantly you wonder if Azriel could feel you the way they could. “Tripping me up with these things just to have an excuse to put your hands on me.”

“Wait, I haven’t—“ There’s a smug cough sounding in his brain and the spymaster’s gaze cuts to the corner of the room. A smirking Rhys still shirtless from the night before just lingering in silence, silently urging, mentally pleading with Az to just take this slice of happiness. He sucks in a soft breath, heart thudding against his chest and his voice is barely above a whisper. “If you knew why didn’t you stop me?”

He can smell your conditioner when you turn to face him, palms braced on the stool beneath you and you lean forward, eyes staring up at him and your toes graze at his knees. “Because, I like your attention.” More rustling and the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming laugh and you’re jumping off the stool, food finished and plate dropped off in the sink and Azriel can’t help but think that’s the most balanced he’d ever seen you as your hips swish a little on your way out, words thrown over your shoulder before you disappear. “And yes, I would like to go out with you sometime.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acowar #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel #a court of silver flames #fluff

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yeonjuns-beanie · 1 month ago

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In Odio Est Amor

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, descriptions of blood and violence, some exhibitionism, lustful/cathartic sex, angst, mutual pining, talk of death, oral(f receiving), think that’s it

summary: in a trade gone bad, you’ve been sought out by macrinus due to your animalistic combat skills. stuck in the camp of gladiators, Hanno is assigned your sparring partner. your existence is a bitter reminder of what he lost but in hate we find love.

a/n: saw gladiator for a second time and i felt compelled to write, seeing as i CANNOT stop thinking about lucius/hanno. he’s just too hot. considering the historical timeline, this is a little inaccurate, seeing as gladiatrices were banned in 200 AD. hopefully, this will be up to par with the rest of the amazing writers in this tag. hope you have a great day!

lucius verus x female!reader

word count: 7.4k

Being the only woman in the camp of gladiators left you feeling like a chewed piece of communal meat that was too tough to swallow. Stuck in a loop of forever being spit out, only to be soon placed in the mouth of another slobbering animal.

Anything beat the damnation of being a courtesan.

The life you lived before was that of sexual servitude, left to your own meticulous devices of survival. Even with your promiscuous occupation, you found ways to be exceedingly picky. It was the only way you could save the last bit of dignity that you had left. Caracalla, saw a means to see an end to your persnickety nature when you denied him of the favors he requested. After the exile and potential murder of his late wife, most of the other courtesans never denied his requests, but when you were placed between his legs and met with unsightly sores as the base of his shaft; you couldn’t find the gall to risk your health. Especially, not for some entitled tyrant who was destroying Rome for all that it was worth.

You told yourself that this would be one of the few clients you’d swallow your pride for but instead, you forced him to vomit his. Your refusal birthed a mirage of embarrassment and shame shrouded in anger and a battle cry for your death. After being whisked away by his servants, you were foolish to think that this would be the end of the interaction. As you walked the path home, you were overcome with wilting anxiety. In the moment where you felt you might be able to make it safely back, you were bombarded by royal guards.

Pummeling you to the ground, your fists connected with as many faces as possible. When your coiled hands of fury and fright failed you, you resorted to more primal behaviors. Using your teeth to stall your enemies, shreds of crimson skin stained your mouth, but alas–you were severely outnumbered. One man struck the back of your head and covered your face with a burlap sack. Feeling metal cuffs being placed around your wrists, you allowed your bones to relax in your defeat, understanding that you were once again shackled to the fall of Rome.

They tossed you around like garbage. You knew that’s how they saw you and could only imagine what Caracalla had said about you for them to be so rough. Dragging your body across the gravel, you fell limp in their grasp not caring where you ended up next. Soon sleep draped over your body and you hoped that your eyes would fight fluttering open, leading you to an everlasting sleep.

When you awoke, you were in a stone cell clad in your dirtied stola. The ends of the dress were speckled with dirt and the low, modified neckline was frayed as if someone tried to tear it open. Sitting up on the bed you peered through the bars of your royal cage, your eyes landing on sweaty, shirtless men across the way. Walking to the bars, you could see that a few guards were patrolling the area, but you couldn’t help to notice that it seemed you were the only woman in these cells. Before you could find the strength to call out to someone, a brown-skinned man costumed in elaborate robes and jewelry came up on the other side of the cell.

“Ah! You’ve awakened. And just in time, I must say, you get to prove your worth to me this morning.” “Excuse me?” “Apologies, suppose it would be a common courtesy to inform you what your new duties are. I have to admit, I saw you last night, tearing into those guards like a feral banshee; very similar to my barbarian.”

Barbarian?

Your face contorted in confusion, wishing that the antics of storytelling would be removed from the conversation; however, judging from this man’s outward appearance you doubted you’d be awarded the luxury.

“A gladiator of mine likes to eat monkeys. Proven to be one my best fighters, and seeing you behave as equally inhuman if not more than him, especially…after hearing what you did–I have to say I’m overjoyed to have a barbarian of beauty to bet on as well.”

Your face soured, realizing you were slavery bait. No better than cattle waiting to be slaughtered.

“I’m not fighting for you.”

“Ah, my banshee, you see–you aren’t fighting for me. No…but rather your freedom. Fight for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your hand struck the metal bars of the cell. The ringing of the bars reverberating off the chambers of the stone prison. It was equally as haunting as the shriek of a banshee in the dead of night. Frustration and agony rushed through you, demanding a destination for its release, the rusty bars alchemizing the brunt of your fury. The only way out was through. Through blood, through agonizing pain, through the tears of what was left of your family name, through ruin. You let your mind wander about what could possibly satisfy the seething, bitter ache that now resided in your soul.

The fall of Rome? Its mighty walls finally crumbling due to its horrific excuse of the ruling. A damning plague? Disease wiping out all of those who were destined to meet the divine in some display of retribution? Or perhaps, the death of Geta so that Caracalla could choke on the verity of his despotic rule? Each thought seemed chaotic enough to satisfy the storm of rage within but there was only one thing that would snuff the flames.

“Caracalla’s head.”

You stormed to the cell gates, fire breathing out of your nostrils and rage swimming in your irises. If he were to fall headlong, a bloody trophy for you to display, your hunger would be satiated. You fought tooth and nail your entire life, to be something more than a slave and here you were being pawned off for entertainment. Justice demanded her dues.

“There she is. Now, put these on and follow their orders, I’ll be with you soon.”

The cell gate opened and you were handed an olive green tunic, strophium, and subligar. Sighing as you looked at the fabric in your hands, you braced yourself for the long road ahead. Nodding to the man you realized something before he walked off.

“What was your name?”

“Macrinus. Yours?”

You hesitated, the weight of your given name threatening to roll past your lips. This couldn’t be your legacy–a woman discarded for the entertainment of others, her last shreds of dignity wrung dry and tattered. No one would seek the truth, nor would they care for the details of your defiance toward Caracalla. They would crave the story spoonfed to them by a diluted man.

A savage.

A wanton woman who was too picky in her own right in a poor attempt at survival. A woman who denied a royal the spoils he believed to be his right.

A whore. Nothing more.

That would be the glorious legacy, at least that would be the emphatic story the town would cry if this were to result in your untimely death. And yet, as you bored your eyes into the man on the other side of the bars, something about his presence loomed like a shadow too wicked to trust. The unsettling dissonance was difficult to ignore. Should he ask for the truth of your life, you’d give it willingly, but something in his gaze served as a warning: this truth would bear no fruits for you.

“Nero.”

“That’s not your birth name, is it?”

“My birth name will die with Rome, if I see it fit.”

Macrinus nodded a knowing smirk painting his lips before he walked off.

In your new robes, you sat on the bed, waiting for your cell gate to be opened. In your dissociative state, you noticed all the different colors in the dirt and the different sizes of the rocks and pebbles. Wondering how long it took for these fragments of eternity to be reduced to small scraps of their original form. The squeaking from the gate tore you from your thoughts and a man dressed in typical gladiator armour greeted you with something mixed with disdain and pity.

“Come. Time to train.”

You rose, the stretching of your limbs and the movement towards the man wrought with apathy running through your marrow. Was the struggle ahead worth the anguish that came with it? Would surrendering your life and facing judgment by the gods to everlasting torment bring a sense of solace in its finality? Would there be any reward in this life or the next for a soul being unmade by its own hand to escape imprecation?

Your head hung as you followed the man outside, leading you to a gathering of burly men in tunics with all love for life stripped from their faces. They were bruised, scabbed, and jaded by the torment they’d been subjected to; but of course, the entrance of a woman breathed some vitality back into them. In the time spent in your cell, you had braided your hair away from your face, leaving your imminent beauty on display despite the rags they clothed you in. It was as if the world silenced around you as you walked in, your head now held high in the presence of others. A ringing filled your ears as your eyes landed on a ragged man, a cold detachment surrounding his aura. He was staring. A jaded expression tracked your every move as you took the open seat next to him, not uttering a sound.

You hung your head again, hoping to ignore the invasive and curious gazes of the other men. Clasping your hands together, you prayed to the Gods to give you the strength to survive. Your prayers were cut short as you heard Macrinus’ voice echo over the various sounds of the training camp.

“As you all can see, we have a new barbarian joining our ranks today. She is destined to earn her place in the arena just as all of you. Her late arrival means her trials begin in full. No. Mercy. Since my barbarian, Hanno, claimed victory in the hand-to-hand combat two days ago, perhaps it’s only fitting that you, Nero, show us the skills that spared you your life. After all, they chose to throw you in the gladiator pit instead of severing your head. Hanno, Nero, up!”

Macrinus clapped his hands together to urge haste in movement from you and whoever Hanno was. As you stood, you realized the body next to you was also rising in stature. Gazing in his eyes this time, there was an emptiness that stirred. For a moment you saw a flash of sorrow in his eyes and you furrowed your brow in response. He was built and you began to wonder what your limitations were for combat. You stood in between the benches of men and the elaborate chair Macrinus was sitting in, planting your feet in the dirt in a fighting stance. You waited for Hanno to reciprocate the stance but every time he leaned his body down, he stood back up in apprehension. Shaking his limbs in rejection, he turned to Macrinus.

“This is not right. To fight a woman in these…in any conditions. Pick someone else.”

“You will fight her or all deals are off. Who’s to say she’s not a worthy opponent?

Your shoulders lifted lazily, dropping them with a defiant slouch as your face cast a dismissive look. Without hesitation, you settled back into your stance, surging at Hanno. You landed a jab straight to his jaw before drifting around his ankles, creating a tornado of dust that wove through his defenses. A storm of grit and determination fueling your fury. When he fell, the sorrow in his eyes was swallowed and replaced by vexation. You dodged his punches with precision, though his fist made home in your gut, dropping you to the ground. You hobbled up slowly, coughing out the bitter dust in your throat before lunging at him again with savage resolve.

He was an equal opponent, but you were determined to win. Tapping into the same energy from the night before, instinct ravaged your body as you lept on his back, raining blows of rage down on his chest. His attempts to rid you of him only fueled your fire of wrath more and you grabbed a fistful of his hair. You let loose a scream that was sharp enough to sear the air, a blistering echo to the ears. Baring your teeth you were disposed to bite.

“Stop!”

Macrinus’ voice bellowed through the camp ceasing the dog fight in front of him. You hissed at him, an animal seized mid-hunt. Hopping off of Hanno’s back, you stood in front of him and bowed in tense submission before walking with your head hung low back to your seat. Macrinus stood and gave a calculated, smug look towards the man clad in leather armour that brought you down here.

“Hose her down and cell her with him. Balance already hangs by a thread in this camp. We must keep vigilant. I believe two invasive species, separated, will incite chaos. Keep them together and maybe those who resist them will have enough strength to endure”

You raised your head slowly, turning to look at Hanno seated next to you, commiseration flooding your features. You were surprised to see the same look staring back at you. Pressing your lips in a fine line, you rose and followed the guard to the bathing chambers.

~*~

Your muscles ached, the hot water soothing the pain radiating through your limbs. You assumed it was Macrinus, but there was folded fabric at the edge of the bath. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you draped the clothing over your body, only to find that it barely reached your mid-thigh. You knew you’d be asking for too much to be treated with some note of decency, but at least you were able to clean yourself. The guard walked you back to the cells and as you passed your previous one being occupied by another man, you realized the orders from earlier were not a bluff and you’d have to face Hanno like a fool.

As you walked down the corridor, men in the other cells were whistling, catcalling you to come stay in their cell instead. Claiming that they could show you a better time than Hanno or the emperor.

The word spread like wildfire. Once a whore, always a whore.

You hung your head, hoping that somehow if you wore your shame on your sleeve you’d disappear from all the madness. The squeak from the cell bars ripped you from your thoughts and you looked at Hanno apologetically before seating yourself on the bed across his.

“By Gods, why do they have you in here?”

You shook your head, trying to will away the tears that were welling up in your eyes. His first words to you weren’t vulgar or accusatory, they were forged of concern and despondent curiosity. You licked your lips, caging them in between your teeth in an attempt to swallow the burning ball of emotions that was bubbling up your throat. You turned to face him finally, swallowing your fears and accepting your fate. Something about him told you that you could trust him. Sighing, you found your strength to speak.

“I assume you’ve heard the echoes of what I’ve done?”

Hanno nodded slowly.

“There is some verity to the words but not all. I know you may find it difficult to see truth in such a claim, especially as I stand before you clad in garments of odium, bestowed so graciously upon me. But know this– I am more than a mere cyprian. Indeed, I am Rome’s poorest excuse for one, and that very deficiency is what has landed me in the arena.”

“What is this deficiency you speak of?

“Being too particular in whom I offered services to. I only did what I did to survive…and now, I must survive for sport–entertainment for eyes who would care less if I lived or bled out in the dirt.”

Hanno looked down at his hand, fiddling with the ring that adorned his pinky finger.

“I also…I want to apologize for my behavior earlier today. He christened me a ‘barbarian of beauty’ –figured I needed to give him a reason to keep his favor. I do hope you understand, but still, the animalic behavior was unjust.”

“No need. We must survive, by any means necessary. I only wish the Gods decided a different fate for you.”

Hanno’s breath became heavy but sparse. He seemed to be reminiscing on something but wouldn’t dare let the words fill the air between you. He mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch and you were about to inquire but his low voice painted the silence first.

“Your name, it’s not Nero, is it?”

Your body separated itself from your mind and you stared at Hanno with fear and uncertainty. Your birth name was shallow on your tongue but heavy in your throat, begging for someone to see you for more than just your flesh. To attach an identity to the body more than an insult. You shook your head and turned to the makeshift window toward the ceiling, seeing a navy blue begin to stroke the sky in its image, hoping that something would give you the strength to share yourself the same way you had done when it was at the expense of others. Hanno’s hand encased your own and brought you back to the conversation as the gesture startled you.

“I’m not your enemy. Remember we’re ‘barbarians’, only the two of us.”

Sighing, he swallowed his pride and revealed his belly to you.

“Hanno is not my name, and I’ve not always been Rome’s favorite beast. I’ve come to know I bore a name that mattered. Lucius Verus Aurelius. The Prince of Rome. A name I may never be able to reclaim in glory.”

He paused tightening his grip around your hand as if seeking comfort.

“There was a dream of Rome, one that my father fought for. But through slaughter and slavery, power won over the people and now we wade in the remnants of what once was. In search of the hope that someone or something will restore the honor.”

Lucius let go of your hands and brought one of his calloused ones to his face, Rubbing the stress-ridden features away as the scratch of his beard caught your ears. You watched him attentively, waiting on bated breath for him to speak his next words. He leaned closer, the gap between seeming to never have existed. He gazed into your eyes, searching for something you knew not of until he uttered them in the next breath.

“You remind me of her.” His voice was nearly a whisper. Something you’d miss again if you weren’t so focused on him. With more chest to his tone, he admitted.

“My wife. She burned like you do. A flame that never quit dancing. A warrior who refused to bow–they stole her spark. The same day they made me a slave. A bitter goodbye, I shared, but when I look at you…I see her ghost.”

There was a touch of venom in his last words. They seemed to have meant good will but the taste was sour in your mouth. A moment fleeting once again. Even in your vulnerability, your search for someone seeing you for you, you were a reminder of something else. You paused, taking a deep breath in before you spoke. Removing your hands from Lucius’, you stared at him with the cracked concrete resolve that you walked through life with.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n is my given name. My father was once an accredited soldier here in Rome, but he tried to overthrow the twins. With that political betrayal came familial shame and poverty. Sinking deeper into poverty I couldn’t watch my mother fail. My beauty had always been prominent, so I exchanged my virtue in an effort to clear our debts and save what dignity my mother had left.”

Tears began to well in your eyes as you thought about the orders that were carried out against your family.

“They slaughtered her.” you began, voice trembling like a frayed string.

“As I spent hours severing my pride, they cornered her. There was never a debt–only a performance of humiliation, a spectacle of shame to the so-called traitor.”

You stood, staring out the cell bars before turning to face him again, your shadow stretching across the stone from the torch on the wall.

“My father raised a viper. A soldier to bear his name in honor. But those tyrants–these incompetent rulers–they’ll soon choke on their arrogance. I will have his head.”

“Who?”

“Caracalla. I may have sold my poise for survival but I will not suffer my health for the pleasure of a rat.”

You sat beside Lucius, your words heavy in the air.

“I carry the guilt, a constant companion. I reminisce the fragments of life I had before all of this and now I reminisce of what it felt like to live a life unspoiled by the fear of death. The scars of my servitude are my food for that arena. This isn’t about freedom it’s about reclaiming a dream they stole.”

You felt Lucius staring but you didn’t dare return the gesture. You were naked, said too much about yourself, you only hoped that you could keep his favor.

“We should get some rest. God knows the entertainment we’ll be performing tomorrow.”

Standing up you settled back into your bed, curling your body into a fetal position with your back facing the wall. You tried your best to maneuver the fabric of your dress to cover yourself but soon gave up on the endeavor and just stared at the ground covered in shadows of yellow and orange.

~*~

Sleep evaporated in a single breath as the cacophony of clamoring metal and gruff voices jolted you awake. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you dressed in the olive garments from yesterday, the scent of sweat and earth still clinging to the fabric. In the corner, a pile of gladiator armor taunted your peace. With a heavy breath escaping you, you braided your hair, coiling it into a bun. Every strand you attached a prayer of strength to. The weight of Lucius’ gaze bore into you, his presence going unnoticed until now. He lingered, his eyes flickering between your own and the twisted knot of hair at your nape.

“Something on your mind?”

“You mirror her as if she’s still here.”

You noticed where his eyes were landing and gently touched the bun. A tight-lipped, bitter smile cracking your face. Rolling your tongue around your teeth, you spoke.

“Whoever your wife was” you murmured, unspoken and unintentional venom in your tone, “do not look for her in me. Whatever regard you hold her in, I could never–honor the shadow of her memory. I am a poison.”

You meant no harm but your words were dripping in acrimony. You hated that throughout your life, you were always seen for something other than yourself. The epitome of you, torn to shreds and left screaming. Y/n was never seen and how could she be? A family name forgotten in a smear campaign and a life lived of shame, what was there to be reveled in? You abhorred that he saw someone much more valuable in you than you deemed yourself worth. You were a ghost. A shallow reminder of what he once loved.

The cell thickened with unsaid words, Lucius opened and closed his mouth, betraying the storm of thoughts that swirled within him. He walked toward the cell door, grabbed your blade, and passed it to you with care.

“I see you, Y/n, and your strength. Fight for your name today and do it with intention.”

You nodded, swallowing the bubble of hatred and sorrow in your throat. Standing you grabbed the grip of the blade, steadying its weight in your fingers. You heard the other cell gates opening and you waited to be released. Adrenaline and ferality coursing through your veins.

The walk to the arena was short but brutal as the sun scalded your skin. As you stood in the shaded maw of the tunnels, you felt water sloshing at your feet. The rays of the sun blinding your eyes in its reflection. You watched Lucius walk to the front of the group, a commanding presence blanketing the air.

“This is about survival! Survive!”

You followed his lead, wildly unprepared for what was to happen next. The feeling of the water squishing between your toes made your skin crawl but a shiver of fear soon took over as you saw the vessel you’d be fighting on today. Suddenly, the water made sense. You took a seat towards the front awaiting Lucius’ command. Your hands gripped the ore tightly and you looked at the bearish man next to you who greeted you with mockery.

“Hope your teeth come in handy in the water.”

You stared forward, fire in your eyes. You separated from your body feeling an unknown level of rage sear your being. You heard an announcer on the other side and the gates were released open, water rushing underneath the boat. Quickly scanning your surroundings you noted with disgust how the arena had turned into a spectacle of chaos. Floating vessels on either side filled with poor bastards, desperately seeking a second chance at life in this gauntlet of survival for the entertainment of nameless faces.

Lucius commanded the ship valiantly, some men perishing to the sharks or arrows from the opposing side. As the boat was steered to demolish the other ship's ores, you felt a surge of rapid excitement run through you as you watched the shards of wood penetrate their skin. Leaving them in either complete agony or to bleed out amongst their crew.

In one more calculated steer, Lucius’ ship barreled into the side of Roman’s warship, debris shooting into the air and clanking back down on the deck. All hell broke loose. You watched Lucius hail down from his post, sword in hand as he slaughtered two men with unusual ease. You’d seen a rage poor out of him that you never seen actualized in anyone but yourself. Your eyes caught Caracalla’s as he sat in his imperial chair watching with glee as your limbs froze in anger. You were one of the last to flee the boat and the game announcer made sure everyone saw your unease as you comprehended your reality.

“It seems our newest gladiatrix hasn’t earned her sea legs.”

Unbridled fear and rage soiled you as you stared at the crowd with wide, brazen eyes. You growled, tightening your grip on your sword, and ran into the chaos with reckless abandon. Your resolve didn’t care who your sword struck, just as long as your bloodlust was satisfied. Helmets adorned with hideous plooms made your targets easy to strike and you made it worth your while. Your blade was stained crimson and you clawed at their exposed skin just to ensure their death was agonizing. Flesh caked under your nails, the dried blood becoming sticky in your palms.

Baring your teeth, your back was hunched and heaving in the air. You snarled seeking your next victim within the chaos. A blade slashed your arm, leaving fresh garnet to ooze from the wound. You looked up into the emperors’ box seeing Caracalla leaning forward in his seat pouting at the outcome in front of him. Macrinus was behind him, hands steepled together as he hid a smirk from the rest of his peers. Hearing the announcer’s grating voice echo in the Colosseum, you stalked your next target.

“What an animal! She’s worse than our sharks. Perhaps, we should have put her in the water instead!”

Laughter erupted in the area and you looked around feeling a sense of helplessness begin to wash over you. You were giving them exactly what they wanted. Stomping around on the deck, you were planting your sword into already dead soldiers just to feel the destruction of their flesh through your blade. Your eyes landed on a lone bow with a perfect arrow clattered on top of it. You dropped your blade, the metal clattering against the wood of the ship. Blending in with the chaos around you, you picked up your new weapon and drew your arrow back. Slightly hidden by the tattered sails, your attack was camouflaged by those in front of you. Lining up the point with the emperor’s box you let the arrow spring free. When you dropped the bow and stepped from behind the ragged sail you were defeated to see that the arrow had lodged itself in the side of Caracalla’s throne.

“TRAITORIUS!” Emperor Geta cried. His yell acted as a death knell for the arena.

Lucius whipped his head around from where the arrow hailed and when his eyes landed on yours he stormed to you shaking you to bring your spirit back from the brink. You heard nothing he said. They would remember you if it was the last thing you did. Your eyes were locked in on the imperial daises relishing in the fear that briefly flashed their faces.

~*~

Retired to your cell, the air was thick between you two. You avoided his gaze and didn’t dare to speak. You had cleaned yourself prior, but you were still picking at flecks of dried blood under your nails.

“That was heedless what you did today.”

“I said, I’d have his head. I missed. The fear he held filled me well. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“And what if they saw the attack, what revenge have you then?” His tone grew more accusatory as he stood, his figure imposing. You spoke to the ground, not having the strength to fight with him.

“Then at least I died trying. Something my father wasn’t granted the courtesy of.”

Lucius paused, trying to find the right words.

“You fought like a storm.”

You raised your head to face him, surprised by his change of tone. You silenced the flutter of happiness you felt from the praise, but your small smile didn’t go unnoticed.

“A storm drowns as easily as it conquers. I was blinded by rage today. They got exactly what they wanted.”

Lucius’ frame softened as he sat next to you and you traced the stitches of your battle wounds. It suddenly became usually silent within the camp, the crackle of a fire pit out in the quad of the prison, the burning bark of the torch, and the occasional shuffle from a guard were all that echoed through the halls.

“You’ll ruin your skin if you keep at it like that. Leave it be, y/n. You’ve endured enough today.” The flicker of care that painted his words was the antithesis of his rough exterior. It challenged you and your vulnerability.

“And if I don't?” your breath shaky in its opposition. “What would it matter?”

“It matters to me,” he spoke quickly. A note of something raw in his tone. You turned to him, the silence that filled the cell now was an entirely different energy. Startled by the vulnerability etched into his face and the weight of his gaze, you were stripped of your defenses. The shell you encased yourself in crumbled to dust, exposing the fragile girl beneath. Your body moved before your mind and you scooted closer to him, your shoulders brushing feeling the heat radiate off him.

Lucius exhaled, a sound that harnessed the weight of everything unsaid. His hand came to rest on yours, the gesture done out of harmony rather than dominance. The scruff of his beard tickled your forehead as you raised your face towards his. In the soft glow of the torchlight, both of your eyes said a thousand words in complete silence–then your lips met. Not with haste but with an aching tenderness that your soul burned for. The outside world ceased to exist, enraptured with one another in this moment.

The kiss started soft but your breaths soon became heavy, vacuuming air through your nostrils out of fear that if your lips disconnected this moment would disappear. Lucius moved his hands to capture your waist and slotted his hand under your thighs to move you into his lap. It was then that you broke the kiss, uncertainty filling your being once again.

“What’s wrong?” Concern laced in his tone, afraid that he made you uncomfortable. You sighed, feeling unwanted emotion rise viciously up your throat like heated bile.

“I want this to be more than just a fleeting moment. I don’t wish for you to see me as the whore they’ve so harshly crafted, nor to feel like a conquest for you–a prize so easily won.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, unable to hide the waves of emotion well. Lucius caressed your sides, soothing you as you sat in the pit of regret and sorrow of what you had done in life. Your head hung, but not for long as Lucius’ thumb and forefinger raised your head to look at him.

“Do not tether yourself to that title. It is not chains of eternity that shackle you to it. Y/n–it is a false truth whispered through the minds of shallow men to make you small. To me, you are no more a whore than a flame is a shadow. Your light burns through the weathering of rain, igniting your strength.” He paused, his eye contact unwavering to show that every word he spoke held the weight of complete veracity.

“If you wish to stop, say the word. But know this–my desire is not conditional, no debts or games to be played. What happens here is your command.”

Lucius’ hand came up to wipe the tear that you hadn’t realized fell. It was overwhelming to feel such acceptance. You believed every word and let yourself soften into his embrace, wrapping your hands around his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thank you–I…Iwant this. I want you.”

His lips found yours, this kiss more searing than the last. Your hands tangled themselves into his hair and your hips rolled in rhythm against his own. His hands trailed down the sides of your curves before finding refuge in the fat of your ass, squeezing the flesh with zeal.

His hips stuttered as he squeezed your flesh and you could feel the bulge beginning to form underneath his tunic. You rolled into the feeling, both of your breaths labored in wanton desire. You pulled your lips away only to pepper kisses down the length of his neck, swiping your tongue up before you bit the lobe of his ear. The faint taste of sweat fired you up even more and you couldn’t get close enough to him.

Curling your fingers into the fabric that clung to his chest, you pulled him close suffocating his lips to yours. In a moment, he had positioned your body so that your back was laid down on the bed and Lucius hovered over you. Taking in your form for every strand of beauty you were worth—a dangerous hunger flashing in his eyes.

Your hair was splayed underneath you and Lucius moved a few strands away from your face before placing kisses on the length of your jaw and down the column of your neck. Lucius placed a lingering kiss upon your lips before resting his forehead against your own. His breath mingled with your own as if to rid you of all the pain and uncertainty you had felt throughout your life. He wanted to replace all those negative feelings with something raw and unbreakable.

You trailed your hands down the front of his body before looking back into his icy eyes, seeing a new emotion swirl in them. Your actions were no longer reigned by caution but falling victim to a deep, unspoken yearning.

“Let us be whole in this moment,” you whispered, the words dripping in true desire. “Let our bodies tangle and relish in the ecstasy.”

Lucius didn’t answer with words, but instead captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It devoured and soothed you in one fell swoop. His touch was firm, but tender, massaging your body with something more than lust. This was a testament of humanity amidst the terror of your world.

With ease, Lucius removed you from your clothes, leaving your body to be painted by the distant flames. When he stared at your naked form without saying a word, you soon grew self-conscious and wanted to cover your body from his raking eyes. Catching your hands in his, he gave you all the reassurance you needed.

“Don’t hide from me. Let me see. One should feel so blessed to lay their eyes on you, like this.”

Lucius kissed down the trunk of your body, leaving flowers to bloom in their wake as he made a path down the valley of your breasts. When he reached the area above the mound of your sex, he paused and looked up at you for permission–eyes showing you a hunger you’d never seen before. You nodded as you gently spread your legs wider, giving him complete access to you. His eyes were blown wide as he dipped his head to meet your petals. His nose teased the top of your clit and the anticipation was driving you mad. Before you had the chance to beg him to touch you, his tongue swiped up your folds, collecting a puddle of arousal on his tongue.

Your body shivered in shock and pleasure, your hips jolting forward and your back arching slightly. You threw your head back, shuddered air falling past your lips. Your hands immediately found solace in Lucius’ hair, gripping the strands as he lapped at your garden. Soon your hips were rolling in rhythm with his tongue and you could feel the heat begin to pool in your lower stomach. Your muscles tighten and release with each passing second of foretaste.

“...Lucius…I,” he lifted his head only for a moment to shush you. “I’ve got you. Cum for me y/n.”

You let the feeling of pleasure swallow you whole as he dipped two fingers into your cavern, your walls sucking him in greedily. The added stimulation brought you over the precipice of your rapture and your body wriggled with euphoria against Lucius’ mouth. When your spirit settled back into your body, you giggled breathlessly. Second nature soon taking over as you lifted yourself from the bed.

You moved forward, your hand feeling his cock through the tunic and you felt a salacious urge brew rapidly within you. Lucius quickly rid himself of his clothes, his sculpted body on display for you to indulge in. When you moved yourself to your knees and began to return the oral favor, Lucius’ hand stopped your head from its descent and guided you to look at him.

“No,” his voice was laced with desire but thick with command. You could see his resolve crumbling a bit in front of you. “This is not about me. It’s for you. You’ve done more than enough in this life, let me return a fraction of that and allow me to give it all to you.” Lucius pushed you and laid you gently back down. His face rested against your own, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered into it.

“I want to hear your pleasure, not just give into mine. You owe me not a thing,” he paused feeling a bit of his dominance morph into a teasing leviathan.

“You want this?”

You nodded rapidly, your hands wrapping around his arms just needing to feel his skin against your own. You looked down between your bodies. His cock hanging heavy off of his frame, tip flushed with desire. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, needing to feel his length somewhere inside of you. Lucius swiped his tip against your folds, soaking his shaft in your arousal just to show you exactly who was in control.

His tip pushed at the entrance of your heat, your brow furrowed in ardent zeal as you squeezed around the small bit of length that was inside of you. Lucius held the base of his cock guiding it to the hilt until your bodies clapped at the connection. He brought his arms down to rest on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours to watch your expressions contort in fervor. You couldn’t help the sound that escaped you as he buried himself inside of you and on instinct you covered your mouth to muffle the sounds.

Lucius removed your hand from your mouth, his smile wicked as he shoved his tongue in his cheek.

“Let them hear. Serves them right for locking us in a cage together.”

He began to move, his thrusts deep and slow. Closing your eyes, you felt every ridge and curve of his cock. Dragging out your pleasure in the most beautiful way imaginable. The clap at the end of each thrust was unmistakable and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care. You almost wanted everyone to hear the lustful wreckage he was throwing you in.

Opening your eyes, the closeness of his face caused you to writhe against him and moan out. The sounds amplified by the stone in the cell, leaving everyone else outside at the mercy of your cries.

“Lose yourself in me.”

Lucius pushed himself up so that he could grab your hips and deliver more calculated thrusts. Each time he pushed in, you could feel his tip kiss your cervix with pure carnality. Your moans were low in timbre but grew more frequent as you felt the knot in your loins begin to tighten at the new speed.

There was a sheen of sweat across Lucius’ chest, a bead dripping down his brow. He brought himself back down and tortured you with the same bruising pace.

“Cum for me. Cum with me.”

He captured your lips in his reminding you that this was more than just lust at work. Your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as the heart of your wanton need contracted around his length in lascivious rhapsody. He fucked you through your orgasm before pulling out and painting your stomach in his alabaster drippings.

Lucius hovered over you, taking in what just happened. As you held eye contact with him, you snuck your hand down to the milky portrait and scooped up some of his salty sap. Bringing it to your mouth, you sucked on your finger, savoring the taste. He groaned at the sight and you smiled at him when you released your finger with a pop sound.

Lucius stood up, grabbing the poor excuse of a blanket off his bed, and used the corner to clean you of him. Wiping the stain of his cum in the dirt, he threw the sheet back to his bed. Grabbing your robes and motioning you to stand up, he covered your body.

“No one else needs to see you like this.”

The gesture was warm and his words held a sense of finality to them. As if he were counting on the fact that you’d never go back to the life you lived before. Lucius covered himself in his tunic. Pheromones, and earth flying off the fabric as he lay down on the bed. He opened one arm and nodded his head toward himself to motion you to lie down with him. The fit was tight but that didn’t matter at this moment.

The quiet lingered, heavy with everything you hadn’t said. Lucius’ breath came slow and steady as you traced patterns over his body, his hand soothing your arm—an unspoken promise in such gentle touches.

“You deserve more than survival. I’ll fight for that. I’ll fight for you.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you allowed yourself to believe for the first time in a long time. To believe that the life ahead could be yours. Not stolen or dictated. With the warmth of his steady presence, you curled into him. Letting the moment take root in the deepest parts of you. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

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entitled-fangirl · 6 months ago

Text

howl at the moon.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The Boltons wish to correct their behaviors and win back the Stark's favor for a previous mishap. But a Stark should never trust a Bolton.

Warnings: cursing, blood, physical fighting, poisoning, death, pleading for life

A/n: based on an ask! This is one of my darkest ones, so please read at your discretion!

Masterlist

.............................................................

Cregan groaned as he stretched, sitting up in bed and looking over to the sleeping form next to him.

He hummed happily at seeing the woman lying beside him with her messy hair and a grin even in the dream world.

He leaned over, smoothing the hair from her forehead to place a kiss there.

She shifted at the feeling and soon, her eyes peered up into his, puffy with the aftereffects of sleep.

Cregan smiled before he willed himself up from bed to begin dressing to break fast.

"Joining me this morning, pretty girl?" He asked over his shoulder.

She sat up, holding the furs to cover herself. "Perhaps I need a good reason to."

His smile turned to a grin when he turned around to look at her, "And perhaps I have a good reason."

She let out a soft laugh, "Oh really? Pray tell, my lord."

He took steps to her side of the bed, each one heavy to match the darkening look in his eyes as he neared her. "Am I not a good enough reason, wife?"

A teasing grin came to her lips, "Prove it."

His eyes lit up with a fire. He threw his leg over her, pulling himself onto the bed above her. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers, "Perhaps I need to."

They skipped breakfast entirely.

…

"Any word from the prince?"

Cregan shrugged, "Not yet. I don't believe we should hold our breath either way. We have other matters currently to attend to."

The men at the council table all nodded in tandem.

"If that is all," Cregan sighed. "We're done here."

They all stood, giving various words of thanks as they left.

Cregan stood and pulled his cloak over him, stopping when one of the men approached him.

"My lord, may we speak?"

The Lord of Winterfell nodded, "Speak your mind, Bolton."

Lord Bolton sighed, "I fear I've angered you. And if I have, I owe you a plea of forgiveness."

That was the understatement of the century.

Bolton had wished since his daughter was born that she be betrothed to Cregan. In fact, Rickon Stark had actually heard out the man's plea years before.

But she was far too young, and it left a bad taste in Cregan's mouth at the thought.

Denied of it, Bolton had left in a huff, nearly cursing the Stark name as he went.

That was years ago, and things had calmed.

But the wound had reopened when Cregan took Y/n to wife.

She was no northerner.

And Bolton hated her for it.

He had grown rather defiant of Stark's commands after the announcement of their betrothal, and it seems even after the wedding, things hadn't changed.

Until now.

Cregan grunted, "I am a man that does not pretend, Bolton. Do you wish for my forgiveness because you are truly regretful, or only because your defiance has gotten you nowhere?"

Bolton let out a tense smile, "Indeed, I am ambitious, my lord. But I truly wish happiness upon you and our lady of Winterfell."

Cregan bit his lip as he stared at the man. After all this, he's suddenly sorry?

He walked past the man, exiting the meeting room and calling over his shoulder, "I'll forgive you when I see improvement."

He then turned around, "I'm a man of action, Bolton. You better be as well." And continued down the hall as if the interaction had not happened at all.

But it seemed Bolton had been adamant about it because his son was begging forgiveness from the lady at the same time.

…

"I don't understand," Y/n said with a tilt of her head.

Randall Bolton, Lord Bolton's only heir, walked with her outside of the stone walls of Winterfell.

"My father… he… he was rather upset when my sister didn't become a Stark. I suppose he's feeling regretful that now that you're here."

She nodded, "I see." She mulled it over before asking, "Well, Cregan didn't swear to it, did he?"

"No, no he didn't. His father only entertained the idea. Nothing became of it."

She hummed as they continued their walk. She finally stopped to fully look at him, "I have no ill will towards your family, if that is of any reassurance. However," she paused. "I will not speak for Cregan. I will not make him decide based on me alone."

Randall smiled, "That's all I wished for. The last thing I want is the Lady of Winterfell to be angry with me. I don't believe I'd rest at night with that knowledge."

She laughed lightly, "Then I do hope you rest well tonight."

"I surely will, my lady."

Another smile from her, "Wonderful. I must return to my duties, but I do hope we get to speak again."

"As do I."

The two walked in opposite directions before he stopped, "You know, I've just considered this."

She turns to look at him.

"Should Lord Stark truly give us his forgiveness, perhaps you'll visit the Dreadfort."

"I wouldn't wish to intrude-"

"-Nonsense." He smiled, "It is on the way to the Wall. Next time Lord Stark makes his trek there, we will be happy to house him." He paused, "And you, of course, if you accompany him."

She nodded, "That sounds lovely. I'd like that. Thank you."

…

"They're all pigs, really."

"Cregan!"

"They are!"

She sighed lightly and leaned back against the headboard of their bed, pulling her legs up, "You're too firm."

He turned to her. His eyes softened a bit at the sight of her so comfortable on their bed. He let out a soft breath. "And you're too kind."

"How are they to prove themselves if you never give them the chance?"

Cregan grunted, "If they want my approval so badly, they should not have acted so in the first place."

She rested her head on her knees as she looked at him, "Can you blame a man for wanting the best for his daughter?"

He whipped his head around to her at her words.

Perhaps he hadn't considered it like that.

She continued, "If there was even a slight hint that your daughter could do well in life, would you not push for it all you could?"

He stared at her, his eyes studying intensely. "One chance. A disapproving stare and I'll gut them all."

She threw her head back with a laugh, "You cannot gut every man you disagree with!"

He grinned, "It's not for me. It's for you."

Her brows furrowed.

"I'll not have disrespect to my girl, that I promise you."

…

"Got everything, my love?" He asked.

She tried to answer, but was too occupied trying to tie the strings of her cloak together with gloved fingers.

He let out a breathy chuckle, "C'mere, girl."

He gripped the strings with ease, beginning to tie them.

She tried to look down at it, but he gently pushed her chin up with one of his fingers, "Can't see when you do that."

She opted then to stare at the broad man in front of her. So focused on tying the strings of his little wife's cloak.

Once done, he shifted the cloak, righting it on her shoulders, then running his hands up and down her arms to make heat for her, "You're ready?"

She nodded, and the two moved to begin their long trek.

…

The Dreadfort wasn't as far as she had thought it was.

And thought it had fort in the name, she still didn't expect it to be as intimidating as it was.

But Randall and Lord Bolton were quick to greet the group.

Cregan made no effort to initially return the greeting as he moved off his horse and immediately go to hers to help her down.

She was the first to speak to them, and all the while, Cregan kept a steady and firm hand on her at all times.

It was one thing to beg for his forgiveness, but to use his girl for her empathy so easily?

They played her like a fiddle, and he hated the sound of it.

…

A few hours of rest and recovery and the two found themselves dressing for supper.

"They've been kind thus far, Cregan. You have to give them room to improve."

He let out a long sigh as he buttoned his vest.

She took that as answer enough.

She turned to the mirror, righting the dress on her as reached behind herself to tie it.

She stared down at the ground in concentration of what she was feeling, and almost jumped when his fingers joined hers.

"C'mere, pretty. We'll be here all day if you do it like that," he teased.

She laughed lightly and pulled her hands away to let him do it.

It wasn't the first time Cregan had messed with the thin strings of her gowns.

All the practice had made him quite good at it.

He leaned into her, "This is their one chance."

"But if you are constantly looking for something to be wrong, then you have no intention of finding them right."

His jaw clenched and he accidentally pulled too tight, making him let out a soft apology before continuing, "I have trusted them with the most precious thing I have. What more of a chance can I supply them with?"

She looked up at him in the mirror, "And what's that?"

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, "Must I say it?"

Realization dawned on her and she smiled, "Am I truly the most precious thing you have?"

He had to hold in the laugh he procured at her question. "If I am truly a wolf, my love, then perhaps you are the moon."

She hummed as he finished tying her dress.

Once finished, he pulled her back into his chest to speak lowly in her ear, "You are truly like the moon to me."

She leaned against him with a furrowed brow as they looked in the mirror.

When she said nothing, he continued, "I am drawn to you, pretty. I dunno why. I'm like a wolf, hunting every night, desperate to satisfy a hunger for something I don't understand."

His grip on her tightened, "And so, I call out, hoping that the one thing that is my greatest asset is listening for me. A bright moon that lights my path."

He kissed the side of her head, "You know, my father once told me that he believe that wolf and the moon to be great lovers when on earth together."

She finally spoke up, "A legend?"

He shrugged, "Dunno. But father said their love was so strong that it outshone the gods, so they were punished and separated at death. Now stuck for eternity, yearning for one another but shall never feel the other's warmth again."

She let out a breath and placed her hands on his around her waist. "Then I don't want to be the moon."

He leaned down to kiss her shoulder, "Why's that?"

"I don't want to be separated from you."

He smiled, "Neither do I, my girl." He let her go and moved to pick up his boots, "Let us finish here before we're late to sup."

…

With a little bit of wine, Cregan had managed to relax.

In fact, he even smiled a few times.

"And then he brought me a donkey!" Randall announced the punchline.

The table erupted in laughs.

Y/n turned to Cregan, absolutely enamored with his laugh.

And when his arm stretched over the back of her chair as well, she had to cross her legs to keep herself focused.

Her husband leaned over to her, "Not hungry much?"

She looked down to her plate that had been hardly picked at, "Weary from the journey, I believe."

"You know," Lord Bolton said as he leaned forward. "We have an incredible collection of tapestries hanging in one of our corridors. Perhaps Randall could show you."

She looked to the Lord, Randall, then to Cregan. Cregan stared back in silent communication.

She sipped her wine steadily then nodded, "Yes, that sounds lovely."

Cregan stood and held an arm out to help her up, which she took.

She turned to him and placed her other hand on his chest. "I'll retire after for the night." She tilted her head, "Enjoy yourself, but don't leave me waiting too long, my wolf."

He grinned, "I wouldn't dare."

She laughed lightly and moved to Randall, but a confused emotion ran over her face.

"You alright, Lady Stark?" Randall asked.

She nodded, "Yes. Yes, I'm just fine."

Cregan watched them carefully until they were out of range.

…

"And this one," Randall pointed out, "was weaved by my great grandmother. They said she predicted the choosing of King Viserys over Princess Rhaenys."

She looked up with a furrowed brow, "Do you believe that?"

He smiled, "No."

She hummed and moved towards the tapestry, but her legs buckled on her before she could and she fell to her knees.

Randall was quick to move to her. He crouched down, "My lady, are you alright?"

She held a hand to her forehead. Everything was spinning so fast.

"Let me grab the maester-"

"-I don't-"

"-Stop. I'll not have my Lady Stark ill."

He made quick work to barking at a servant to find the maester.

He practically picked her up himself, helping her to her chambers.

…

"Lord Stark," one of the servants interrupted.

Lord Bolton grumbled, "This better be important."

"My lord, your presence has been requested in your chambers."

Cregan's brow furrowed. That was unlike his wife.

Bolton grinned, "Perhaps you've kept the lass waiting too long. Needy little things, wives."

The servant shook her head, "The maester was fetched for the lady, my lord."

Cregan immediately moved to his feet, not caring about the chair that fell over loudly at the force.

"Lord Stark," Bolton started.

"I have no time," Cregan stated with no hesitation.

And he made quick work to journeying down the halls of the fort to her.

…

"Why not? I don't understand," A voice whispered in one of the corridors.

Cregan paused, moving down the hall towards the sound.

"I'm sorry, but that was my order." A new voice.

"And what if I'm the one demanding something?" The first voice asked angrily.

"I follow your father, not you, Randall. I'm sorry."

Randall.

"You're the fucking maester, you can't just-"

"I do what I am told. As should you."

Cregan's eyes widened and he began to travel faster, hoping to relieve the horrid pain that started in his heart.

…

When he entered their chambers, she laid asleep on the bed, the furs pulled over her to preserve heat.

But her skin was already too pale and a layer of sweat had formed.

Cregan cursed lightly as he sat on the bed.

What the hell had happened so suddenly?

His hand started to shake as he brought it up to her face.

Her skin was cold.

He began to shake his head in denial.

The maester entered and Cregan jumped. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to frighten you."

Cregan felt weak. He had never felt weak before.

The maester moved to the bed, "We've done all we can for her. It's a passing illness. Only time will heal it."

His teeth began to grind. "I don't believe you."

The man looked thrown off, "My lord?"

Cregan grabbed the man by the tunic and shoved him to the wall, growling in his face with a fire that was terrified of being extinguished. "You're letting her die."

The maester's breath quickened and denied his words, "My lord, I'm doing all I can."

"What's keeping me from ripping your throat out here now?" Cregan asked with a set jaw.

"I… um… I suppose nothing my lord."

"Then fucking work."

But when Cregan released him, he ran from the room.

He growled and moved to follow him when a cough sounded from the bed.

A groggy and weak voice came from the woman, "Cre…Cregan."

He moved to her, pulling her hand in his as he sat on the bed, "I'm here, my girl."

She let out a whine, "It all hurts."

He nodded, "I know."

She stared at him in thought as hot tears flooded her eyes.

"Am I going to die, Cregan?"

A breath involuntarily left his throat.

He'd seen death. Looked it in the eyes himself. Watched it take everything from him. His father. His brother. Kings and rulers fell everyday at its hands.

He couldn't let it do this to him.

He shook his head, "No. No, my girl. You'll live."

They both knew it was a lie.

When the tears began to run down her face, he cradled her to his chest like she was glass.

"Don't let me die, Cregan! Please, please. I'll… I'll be good. Please… d…don't let me go!"

He stared at the wall in pure fear.

When had he ever felt fear?

He wasn't sure he had before.

He'd have recognized the feeling of that twisting in his gut with every sound of her sobs.

She began to hiccup profusely and he was practically holding her up all by himself.

He pulled her flush against him.

"Shhh… you've gotta breathe for me. Please. Please."

All of a sudden, there was silence.

He just stared at the wall. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

He didn't want to look at her. But human nature made him yearn to look disaster in the eye.

He pulled her from his shoulder.

Dead.

The sound that ripped out of Cregan's throat was animalistic.

And he pulled her to him once again, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to comfort her.

Even he knew it was in vain, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything else.

…

"I'll kill you!" Randall roared.

"Keep your fucking voice down," Bolton cursed.

"You're killing an innocent girl for what? Revenge? On something that never happened?"

Bolton's eyes locked into stone, "Don't speak on something you don't know, boy."

Cregan walked in, a mere shell.

His eyes were looking nowhere and everywhere all at once, as if waiting for a hidden truth to reveal itself.

To wake up from a dream.

Bolton feigned innocence, "Is everything alright, my lord?"

"She's dead."

Oh fuck.

A breath escaped Randall and he began to shake his head, "I can't sit by with this."

"Randall-"

"My lord," Randall ran forward to Cregan. "My lord, he's plotted th-"

"-Quiet!" Bolton yelled.

But Cregan had heard it.

His eyes slowly wandered up from the ground to the older man's body, each inch giving him more life.

When they settled on the Bolton's face, the wolf of the north was seething.

His voice was so low, it sounded like thunder, "I'll have your fucking head."

"Now, Stark-" he tried to reason.

Cregan marched forward, quickly closing the distance between them before he grabbed him by the tunic and landed a heavy punch in the face.

Blood seeped from the man's nose, but Cregan was far from finished with him.

Servants rushed forward to stop him, but Randall quickly aided him in keeping them away.

Cregan landed hit after hit on the man.

And when he fell to the ground, it only spurred Cregan on.

Blood stained his hands, tunic, pants, even his hair.

Cregan didn't care.

When the man let out a bloody smile, and Cregan's hand faltered.

The man spit blood to the side, "Maybe if the bitch hadn't indulged herself in the wine, she'd have this by now."

He pulled a vial from his pocket.

An antidote.

Cregan turned into an animal, panting harshly with a wild look in his eyes.

He only saw red, completely out of reason with his actions.

Only when Randall had physically pulled him from the man did he come back to.

Bolton's face was unidentifiable.

And Cregan finally felt the stick residue of the blood on his hands.

It felt like it stained beyond his hands. Deep into the bone.

He sat on the ground, holding back the overwhelming urge to cry.

…

Never did a day pass where Cregan didn't wear the vial around his neck.

And he couldn't bring himself to leave the walls of Winterfell when the moon was out there to greet him.

A painful reminder of what had passed.

She had said she didn't want to be the moon.

So he had to promise himself to not become the wolf.

However, it didn't stop his howling at night in dreams, yearning for the love he had lost due to the jealousy of not the gods, but man.

..................................................................

Cregan Stark taglist: @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn,

#cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #creagan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark x you #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x female reader #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones

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ysljoon · 6 months ago

Text

Whirlwind | MYG

♡pairing: min yoongi x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)

♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.

Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.

Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.

“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.

“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.

“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.

Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.

Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.

He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.

“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together

And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.

“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.

Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.

When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.

“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.

“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.

“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.

The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.

When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?

“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.

Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.

Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.

“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.

Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.

He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.

“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.

His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.

“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.

He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.

#thebtswritersclub #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #whirlwind au #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga fanfic #bts suga #suga

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starzradio · 4 days ago

Text

SYMBIOSIS.ᐟ

absorbing curses was simple enough, right? until your boyfriend absorbs something that isn’t quite a curse.

FEATURING: venom! geto suguru x journalist! female reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, mdni. has SOME canon qualities/otherwise just an au, mentions of blood, monsterfucking, tentacles as bondage, mentions of dead chickens (ref to the first venom movie lol), unprotected p in v (monster or not, wrap it 🫵🏼), (consensual) recording during sex, male masturbation, cunnilingus, oral (m receiving), riding, missionary, pet names, some aftercare

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 19inchesofvenom 19inchesofvenom 19inchesofven- (i’m gonna go sit in a corner n think about what i wrote sorry chat)

You were going to strangle your boss.

Or, you would've entertained the idea had it not been for the hefty stack of ALMOST DUE bills cluttered around your kitchen table in bright red ink (and the very real possibility of ending up in jail, whoops).

Maybe you'd just stick with your original idea of writing a heavily worded word document. One that you'd never send, of course. But one that would explain the absurdity of this situation, nonetheless. Using your journalistic degree—and the many years of debt that it'd set you back, to come to an abandoned barn house in the middle of nowhere.

Unsolved mysteries and speculation led you to explore some complaints farmers had about missing chickens. On some hunch that Venom as the city dubbed him had been responsible.

Brown, dried out leaves crunched underneath your feet with each step as you slowly began to approach the abandoned barn. A coyote howled in the distance, the sound of cicadas buzzing around only adding to the animal symphony. You wouldn't be surprised if a chainsaw popped out from the back of the barn and began chasing you down.

"Can't be that bad, right?" You muttered to yourself, standing in front of the tightly shut doors. Trying (and failing) to convince yourself to go through with this investigation instead of tailgating it straight out of this horror scene. You managed to get the heavy door open, its hinges creaking obnoxiously. No chainsaw in sight—okay.

Holding the small candle in front of you, the area around you began to illuminate while you made your way further inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. A couple horses sleeping in their stables, buckets and rakes in almost every corner. Until you approached the chicken coops. Flies buzzed around a couple of the spaces, bunching up in the masses.

Shooing them away, you peered your head inside. And you almost immediately wished that you hadn't. Instead of getting an angry chicken looking back at you, you only got to see a chicken's body laying there. With no sight of the head anywhere. And while you were just a journalist for a mid tier newspaper.. even you could tell that it wasn't normal behavior.

SWISH.

A sudden burst of air hit your face, the hinges of the barn door creaking even further. The culprit had been just a couple meters away and you'd missed it. You jogged outside to try to see if you could catch a glimpse, looking up and down. Only to receive nothing but the buzzing cicadas from earlier.

In the short amount of time it'd taken you to come out, whatever—or whoever was out there, disappeared in the blink of an eye. You were left standing there with your mouth agape, camera weighing heavily in your hand. And now, a missed call from your boss.

"Hello?" You decided to answer the second call, pacing around the barn. Trying to think of just how you were supposed to begin to explain this. How every fiber in your being felt Venom's presence.. without actually facing him. Without actually having any proof that he was even here in the first place.

"I'd appreciate it if you answered my calls the first time around," her voice snapped out from the other line, an agitated groan leaving her lips. "I called to ask how the investigation was going. I'm assuming you have what you need to have the paper by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" All the blood in your body ran cold, even more than the near death experience. The woman's working you into an early grave.

And all you received in response to your question was another groan. You could practically picture her pinching the bridge of her nose by now. "Yes, tomorrow. I plan on having it released a couple days from now, you know how the process is."

"Right, right, yeah. I'll get the paper to you by tomorrow," You assured her, your steps starting to get faster. It wouldn't be that hard, right? You just had to do what a couple journalists hadn't achieved in months by tomorrow morning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm screwed," you muttered to yourself, pushing your phone into the depths of your pocket.

The animals woke up from their nap, looking over at you with an unamused expression. "Don't look at me like that," you hissed out, catching a glimpse of them before letting out a groan, "And now I'm arguing with a bunch of animals." A slow breath left your lungs, forcing yourself to calm down. You'd just work with what you had in front of you.

Only drops of blood staining the tan floor in front of you served to prove that you weren't seeing things. You set the candle aside and pulled your camera out of your bag, starting to take pictures from whatever angle you could muster up. Whatever angle would look the most inconspicuous and mysterious to the newspaper editors.

You couldn't help but feel like something was staring at you—gauging every single one of your movements when you stepped out of the barn. The creature wouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around, would it? You looked up at the barn roof, almost expecting to see something ready to attack. But once again, a whole load bucket of absolutely nothing.

You truly didn't get paid enough to deal with this.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

An unquenchable thirst consumed Suguru's being inside and out, the urge completely taking over any last sense of rationale that he had remaining. Taking over every single last one of his thoughts. Even with the warm, iron taste of blood coating every single one of his tastebuds—the need wasn't satisfied. It wasn't nearly enough.

It almost felt like it would never be enough.

Dried crimson smudges smeared across elongated canines, pieces of raw flesh sticking to the ends. A mix of his own drool and blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and bare body. A body that wasn't really quite his own. Or more accurately, a body that wasn't just his anymore.

Suguru wasn't completely sure what the thing was, originally thinking of it as curse when he'd been sent out by Yaga to 'handle' the issue. Ironically enough, for the same thing that you were investigating just now. Except that he went to absorb it, the black glob in the ground didn't behave anything like a cursed spirit.

The taste of vomit and shit was one that Suguru was used to by now. The taste of every single one of humanity's evil doings—from lust to greed—sticking to the back of his throat while his body absorbed that very same evil. It was a taste that he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard

The little glob didn't taste like anything going down, which probably should've served as the first red flag. One of the other things was that the little thing didn't exactly appear on his command—much like the others in his repertoire, but rather when the thing wanted to make itself known. Like it had rational thinking.

It'd somehow bonded with Suguru's DNA, latching onto him for survival. Even with every method that he'd tried to take it off—prying it off with a metal bar, burning it off, freezing, it was all pointless. The little thing would just stick its gooey tongue out at him before retreating back to the safety of his own body. Going so far as to claim that they were the 'perfect match.'

Dead chicken heads cluttered around his feet, the sound of bones crunching against each other and the last desperate clucks in vain still echoed throughout his skull. Even a couple pieces of flesh remained on the tips of his teeth, the creature inside of him savoring each last bit of the pieces. Better than it being a human, at the very least.

He'd become too sloppy. That much was clear after you'd almost caught him in the barn earlier. If you'd been even just a second faster, you would've noticed him sticking to the side of the roof with no problem. Despite every sense in his body being enhanced, he'd almost gotten caught. All for his blood thirsty to have chickens before going back home for dinner.

How'd this even become a problem? Suguru had made it a point to take just a few chickens—just enough to satiate the thirst that seemed to run deep within his veins. Taking a few from a different farms scattered across the countryside shouldn't have been suspicious.. and yet here he was. Being investigated.

The smart thing to do would just to leave the chickens alone for now, right?

Just leave the whole thing alone. That would be easy...

Until he had the stupid idea to swing by your apartment. Just to make sure that you'd gotten home safe after driving in the snow. And maybe think of some lie of how he got stuck out with Gojo on a mission again, anything that would ease the suspicions you had.

After spending what seemed to be an eternity waiting for some kind of sign to show up, for the culprit to make themselves known—you decided to call it a night. With just a couple photographs and a new conversation topic for your therapist in the following days. And now you were stuck writing a multi page article with nothing but good vibes and a couple dead chickens.

Can after can of unfinished energy drinks cluttered the expanse of your desk, serving as a paperweight for the several papers that laid in front of you. The laptop screen in front of you illuminated your face, nearly blinding as every tab you could find in regard to Venom was opened up. Which was a complete grand total of three articles.

All built up on pure speculation. Exactly what the farmers had told you during their interview—rambling about it being a two headed monster, a soul snatcher, a demon. The eerie presence that hung around the farm was too strong to be ignored.. and yet, no one had actually found the source behind it. No source, no reliable clues, nothing. Just a whole load of absolutely nothing.

The simple fact remained that no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it. Or probably, no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it and live to tell the story. The photos didn't offer much either—they were all either blurred, heavily edited, or just outright AI generated. Each failed result just made the pounding headache thumping against your head all the much worse.

Just what were you supposed to tell your boss and the multitudes of readers?

A loud thump against your window distracted you from looking at your computer screen for different job offers. A thump too heavy to just be a result of the snowfall outside. To open it or not to open it? You stayed still in your spot, gulping down more of the battery acid to keep yourself for a couple more hours. Until another thump. And the third thump came.

You reluctantly got off the chair, padding over towards the window. Nothing. The night sky was completely empty, albeit for a couple snow flakes that were starting to coat the streets in a thin white sheet. Your gaze went down to the three pebbles lying on the floor, matching the number of thuds you'd heard earlier.

"What the fuck?" You muttered to yourself, looking up from the pebbles. The words died in your throat when you looked up to see big, white eyes boring into your own. Not exactly what you were expecting to see living in the second floor. You scrambled away from the window, your heart beating against your chest as you heard the creature scratching against the glass.

The same creature that you were trying to write an article about was scratching against your window, each one grating against your eardrums. Had it been tracking your movements down since you'd left the barn..? Before you had the chance to begin questioning it further, it slid through the crack in the window like slime. Reaching up and up until it reached the lock.

Slipping inside of your apartment in a span of seconds, Venom stood in front of you. Its head pressed against the ceiling, taking over the space it had available with ease. Chills ran down your back when the creature met your gaze—his stare unsettling. The way a predator would look at its prey. It didn't help that you could practically see it salivating as it took you in.

The chickens were the appetizer and you were about to be the full course meal.

"You're the one writing those articles," not a question, just a simple statement. Its voice came out like something out of an alien movie. You rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly looking up at the goo-like creature. Trying to figure out what lie you could pull out of your ass.

"I mean, not exactly. There's a lot of people writing those articles, mine don't really get as much traction," you were babbling the first thing that came to mind, trying to buy yourself enough time. Enough time to figure out if jumping out of the second window in just your pajamas was too stupid of an idea. Except... that Venom wasn't even paying attention to you anymore.

It busied itself with picking up one of the various news articles, an indignant scoff leaving its mouth. Holding up the offensive piece of paper up to his face, its eyes narrowing down at you. "If you answer this wrong, I'll be eating your brains. If you answer it right, I'll be eating your arm. Do you think this is the most flattering picture of me?"

You looked over at the picture, trying to discern what was so wrong with it. Seeing Venom face to face, this was the closest thing that resembled it. "It's red but it still looks like you somewhat," you shrugged. Though your eyes quickly widened seeing Venom lick their lips, almost hungrily. Like it'd been waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

"But no, I don't think it's the most flattering. Doesn't look like you at all," you quickly backtracked with a nervous laugh, stepping back just the slightest bit. Just to where the creature wouldn't notice you were slowly slipping away. The creature seemed satisfied with that answer, slamming the photo down onto the wooden desk.

"So unfair that I'm still getting compared to that thing."

"That thing?"

"Carnage."

Venom picked up the camera that laid next to the disorganized stack of papers—holding it up to his face. "Not bad, could've done with some better lighting," he tsked, looking through the pictures you'd taken earlier at the farm. "There wasn't any better lighting," you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest. The subtle click of the camera filled up the room as the creature continued to look through the photographs.

Until even it got tired of multiple copies of the same photos. Venom held up the camera lens to face its slimy face, having the nerve to smile just as the flash came on. "There. A much better picture for your references," the creature spoke almost proudly.. holding up your camera to take another photo of itself. Taking on a more serious expression. "Replace those ugly ones on Google."

Venom moved across your room curiously, exploring it like something out a museum. Picking up the articles you had scattered throughout your desk, holding it up underneath his scrutinizing gaze. And then.. the first change started to happen. Its mask began to disintegrate, human flesh starting to show underneath its cover.

You were delirious. That was the only possible explanation. The fumes from the filthy manure finally infiltrated your brain. The sight of the dead chickens was starting to mess up your cognitive function. "Suguru?"

"Surprise," now he sounded nervous, looking everywhere in the room except at your face.

All the little signs that Suguru had been displaying throughout the past couple weeks slowly started to make sense. From being insistent to be the one to wash his uniform (not that you'd minded at the time) to coming back home at the ass crack of dawn. Claiming that a mission held him up. And still, you found yourself wanting to believe that maybe you were just hallucinating.

"I didn't scare you too badly, right?" he approached you slowly, like he was the one that had to be cautious. You stayed frozen in spot, your mouth agape even as he came to hold your hips.

"Wait, so you're the murderer? How long has it been going on for? A-And why'd you show up here as Venom?" The questions spilled out of you, struggling to even begin to wrap your head around this.

Choosing to ignore your other questions, he simply answered, "You wanted to write your article, didn't you? What better way to do that than to keep track of our exclusive interview." Your phone looked ridiculously tiny held in between two digits, one of his fingertips tapping at the screen. To get the camera app set up?

Suguru placed the camera against one of the perfume bottles on the desk, capturing your bed in the frame. "What's that for?" you questioned, looking over at him as he moved around your room. No longer with that curious gaze, but the usual comfortability instead. "It'll be easier for you to remember if you have it digitized."

Your bed squeaked underneath his weight as Suguru went to lie down, resting his hands behind his head. "Come on, princess. The interview's more comfortable this way," he patted down on the spot next to him, a couple of your stuffed animals flying to the floor from the sheer force of his hand.

"So, what do you want to know?" Suguru questioned, running one of his fingers down the sheer material of your sleep shirt. Bunching up the thin material underneath his hands before slowly raising it up to your stomach. Abnormally cold hands slid up your torso, goosebumps forming instinctively at the touch.

"Why'd you murder the chickens? Not like we're missing any food at home," You looked over at the camera, making sure it was recording. And trying to avoid looking at Suguru. Was he still the person that you fell in love with? Well, clearly not.. but maybe, just maybe, the symbiote hadn't changed him?

You weren't sure how to deal with the possibility that the thing inside him had changed him completely. But Suguru was still gentle, his fingertips lightly caressing your body while he let out a small hum. Considering his answer.

"The thing inside me craves blood. Morning, day, and night. It's like an urge. An itch that I can't really control," Suguru moved his hand up your shirt, letting out a small hum. "I know that doesn't answer your question. Give me a bit."

Suguru grasped one of your breasts in his hand, rubbing his thumb against your areola. Feeling your nipples getting harder and harder underneath his fingertip, both from the cold seeping in through the slightly ajar window and his actions. He did the same to your right breast, slowly taking his time to move down your body. Eliciting all the goosebumps he could muster within you.

Suguru's fingers rubbed slightly against your clothed cunt, tracing the outline of your folds through the flimsy material. "Or better yet. Why do you think I murdered the chickens?" the deflection was smooth, even you had to admit that much. His fingers were just as smooth, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your already glistening cunt.

The two digits began moving in a scissoring motion, slowly starting to spread you open. It was hard to focus on the damn chickens when all you wanted was for him to keep going. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, getting the slightest bit of friction against his palm. Just as soon as that sense of relief came over you, it was quickly ripped away.

Suguru pulled his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around them and sucking on them like a decadent dish, rolling his eyes back. "I'll be nice, even though you didn't answer. Want a little taste?" You simply nodded at his question, leaning up to meet his lips. Suguru closed the gap in between you two, pressing his lips against your own.

The first thing you could taste was yourself, the taste clinging onto his lips for dear life. Your tongue ran over his bottom lip, picking up the remnants.

“If I knew why'd you murdered the chickens, I wouldn't be asking," you pointed out, a small gasp leaving your lips. His thumb teased your clit yet again, teasing you to that crescendo before letting it drop again.

"But you're so smart, baby. I wanted to hear your thoughts on why chickens. Why not dogs? Why not cats?" Suguru spoke in puzzles, only serving to confuse you even further. "Come on, put that big brain to use and let me hear your thoughts."

"Because.. it's easier to overlook?" You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, trying to put your 'big brain' to use without blanking out completely.

Suguru clicked his tongue, nodding his head from his spot in between your legs. "Something like that, yeah. I thought no one would really notice if a couple chickens went missing," he looked up at you, amethyst eyes almost seeming to sparkle underneath the moon.

The only time where Suguru didn't feel like the hunger was all consuming was when he was in between your legs, eating you out to his heart's content (or until you had to pull him off you after the nth orgasm, either or). "Could smell you all the way outside the window. Such a good scent," he all but purred into your skin, completely removing your panties off.

Just how enhanced were his senses now? Maybe that should be your next question. If you remembered, that is.

Sharp canines grazed upon your inner thighs, the movement surprisingly gentle. For someone who'd just bit off a chicken's head with those same teeth, anyways. His long tongue licked a stripe up your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin and savoring the taste all the while. Your hips bucked up in need of something more, only to quickly being pinned down by his hands.

"Let me take my time, princess. Savor this," He looked over at you, a firm grip on your thighs. "I'll give you what you want, I promise," Suguru hadn't even done anything—and he was already starting to get delirious. He could practically taste you from here, could feel the scent of you completely invading his senses. All he could think about was you, you, and you.

The stretch of the symbiote's long, pink tongue as he pushed it in deeper into your cunt had you gripping the sheets beneath you all that much tighter. The silken sheets bunching up underneath your vice grip. Just the tongue was enough to reach up where your boyfriend's cock normally did.

You writhed against the silk bedsheets, your eyes struggling to stay open as the tongue pushed further inside of you. Filling you up with so much ease. It slowly retracted, pushing back inside of you with one swift motion. "D-Don't stop," you let out a gasp, your back arched while the tongue reached deep within you.

"So tasty," a low gravelly voice that didn't quite belong to Suguru sounded from the back of his throat. The different entity living within his body. "Don't get used to it," Suguru's voice came out muffled, tongue-deep inside of your cunt. His tongue eagerly lapped up and every drop of your slick, coating his mouth and chin.

He pulled away for the slightest bit, letting his spit dribble down on to your pussy. Watching intently at the way your walls clenched at just that, the way you twitched with just the lightest of movements. "F-Fuck, Sugu!" A whine left your lips, feeling his fingers push into you again. Curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with each thrust.

"So good," he babbled against your cunt, the tip of his tongue swirling against your clit. "T-Taste so fucking good, I love you," Suguru rutted his hips pathetically onto the edge of the bed, leaving his precum onto the sheets. The hand that wasn't essentially knuckle-deep inside you wrapped around his cock, thrusting himself in time with your own.

The symbiote's tongue was quick, precise in the way that it flicked around your clit. Suguru swirled it around the nub, letting out mindless groans and babbles as he leaked further into his hand. Your cunt gushed around his fingers—squelching with every thrust of his fingers he gave. You tightened up around them, your fingers digging in further into the bedsheets.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna cum," you babbled out, your toes curling. It was just so deep, so good, so much of everything. "Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Wanna taste you so bad," Suguru managed to get out through his own whines and babbles. You felt that pressure inside of you build up before finally releasing—covering his fingers in your release when you came.

Suguru took his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue to lap up every last drop that started to leak down your thighs. With one final kiss against your folds, he pulled away to clean away his fingers. You sat up, coming face to face with his cock now that he was standing up.

And to call it a beast was short of an understatement.

Your swollen lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, struggling to completely get him inside of your mouth. It was just so.. thick. You looked up at him, your eyes starting to water up from the way your jaw was starting to slack. "You don't have to, princess," Suguru cooed down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Though, even he would be a fool to deny this sight was anything short of perfect.

You looked absolutely sinful on your knees, your cheeks hollowing out in some attempt to ease the way down. You ignored the warning, slowly starting to bob your head down his shaft. Becoming complacent with the fact you wouldn't dare to try to take all of him in—not unless you wanted a quick trip to the hospital and an awkward explanation to the ER doctors.

With the spit pooled up in your mouth, you blew bubbles on the tip of Suguru's cock before letting it dribble down his shaft. One of your hands wrapped around the base, slowly starting to twist your wrist and start to jerk off what you couldn't reach. "F-Fuck, that's it, princess. So good," Suguru moaned out, one of his own hands resting on the back of your head.

"If you want me to keep going—answer me this. Have you hurt any civilians?" You pulled your mouth away, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his leaking cock. Suguru let out an exasperated groan, "No. I haven't. I don't want to hurt any people."

Even from this awkward angle on the floor, you could tell that he was telling the truth. Finally. You continued to drool on his cock, the filthy sounds of you gagging on it when the tip hit the back of your throat echoing through the thin walls. Your tongue traced through the thick veins on the sides, feeling Suguru's thighs twitch beside you.

"O-Oh f-fuck," Suguru bit on his fist, his head lolling back the more you tried to push his cock inside your mouth. Your tongue licked down the underside of his cock, going all the way to his heavy balls. You looked up to see Suguru struggling to meet your gaze, his chest heaving and strangled breaths leaving his lips.

Your tongue drew small circles on the sac before you took it in your mouth, sucking on them. "Wait, wait," Suguru started off, gently pulling you off, "Need to come inside you." He grabbed your hand, helping you off the floor.

Though the camera was still running on the nightstand, you decided to make mental notes of everything he was saying. Just in case. You weren't even completely sure if you'd remember by the end of the night. Suguru made himself comfortable just like at the start of the night—and the pieces started to click together. No way the man wanted you to ride him now.

"S-Suguru, I can't," the words escaped your lips in a hiss, slowly impaling yourself onto the first two inches of the large cock underneath you. Not even enough to completely get the tip in. Each inch felt like it was splitting you apart all over again.

"Yes you can, you're taking it so well baby," Suguru cooed, watching as you slowly sunk yourself down on his cock. Squeezing the life out of him while you tried to find your momentum.

You could already imagine the words on your tombstone— death by monster dick.

Suguru placed his hands on your hips, gently squeezing the flesh to ease your movements. "There you go, that's it. That's it, take it for me," he encouraged your movements with each bounce you were giving on his—the symbiote's(?)—cock.

Suguru looked over to see his cock nudging a bulge in your tummy when he thrusted up into you, the sight nearly having him close to an orgasm again. He thrusted in deeper, watching how the tip protruded with each one. "S-Sugu, you're in too deep," you moaned out, practically feeling the man in your guts. And he wasn't even fully in. You wouldn't be surprised if he could reach your guts.

Your hips gyrated, trying to keep up some sense of rhythm. You pressed your hands firmly against their chest for some semblance of balance, feeling the goon underneath your fingertips sticking to your fingers. "Take it, take it," Suguru let out a moan of his own, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. His feet pressed against the mattress, using you like a toy as he thrust himself in and out of your cunt.

"S-Sugu, too much, too much," you babbled out, struggling to keep up with the pace you'd set for yourself. That, and the absurdly big dick jackhammering you.

"You tired, baby?" His tone was sickly sweet as he spoke, pulling you off his cock and setting you down on the bed. "It's okay, I'll take care of you now. Just lay there and look pretty."

Suguru's body began to change back into its original form, the symbiote retreating back into his body. Thick, extensive tentacles protruded out of Suguru's back, each one wrapping around one of your limbs. Suguru slowly rubbed his cock across your folds, covering his length with your slick until it glistened against the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

Suguru slowly pushed the tip inside, feeling your walls tighten up against his shaft. "Is that better?" He looked down to watch for any signs of discomfort, and upon not finding any, he placed your legs up on his shoulders. Using the angle as leverage, hips snapping deeper inside of you.

"Taking everything I give you so well," his finger lightly caressed your cheek, the sharp thrust of his hips completely contradicting the gentleness he was trying to give. Your cunt covered his shaft with your slick, squelching as he slid it in and out of you. "Rub my clit, please, please," you let out a mewl, keeping your gaze directly on his own.

"Can't say no when you beg so pretty," His thumb slowly began to rub your clit, building up your orgasm for the second time tonight. Your walls clenched around him tightly, milking his cock in the process. Everything started to get too much, too little, you weren't really sure what you wanted. The only thing that you did know was, well, you wanted to cum.

“So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was pronounced with a thrust, sweat dripping down from his forehead and covering his skin. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, a moan leaving your lips as you came. It was both a sight and a sound that Suguru couldn't find himself getting tired of even if he tried. His own hips began to grow sloppy, his thrusts losing all sense of rhythm while his balls continued to grow heavier.

A groan erupted from the back of Suguru's throat, his head thrown back while his eyes barely managed to stay open. "Take it baby, it's all yours," Suguru let out a groan, his hips growing more erratic. Your messy pussy was pushing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. You simply nodded your head against the pillow, your nails digging into his forearm.

"Y-Yeah, all mine," your moan came out so sweetly, being the last thing to push Suguru over the edge. Ropes of cum spurted deep inside of your cunt, filling you up almost immediately. He didn't bother to move just yet, remaining buried deep inside of your cunt. The only thing that he did do was start to press slow, sloppy kisses on your calves before setting your legs down on the bed.

A soft whine left your lips when Suguru pulled out his twitching cock, the tentacles retreating back inside of him. Globs of cum dripped down out of you, streaming down your thighs and ass. "I never harmed anyone in what I've been doing, by the way. I don't want to harm anyone, I promise. I'm still your Suguru," he whispered, low enough to where your phone wouldn't pick it up.

"Still your Suguru. Your Suguru," Entrusting those words to you and you only. His thick fingers pushed inside of your dripping cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you. Filling you completely yet again. Suguru pulled out of you once again, wiping his hand off with a rag on the bed stand.

"You okay?" Suguru whispered, using the rag to gently wipe away the sweat that dribbled down your forehead. One of his hands reached down, fingertips gently rubbing against your thighs in a bleak attempt to soothe the ache.

"No, think you and that cock earlier might've broken me," you mumbled, your voice coming out hoarse. At this rate, you'd have a noise complaint taped to your front door first thing in the morning. Suguru reached over for the nightstand next to you, opening up a water bottle. "Sit up for me just a little."

Your body ached even further, pushing yourself so at least your head would be straight. "I know, I know it hurts," Did he really? Suguru took a hold of your chin, lightly tipping it up before giving you slow gulps of water. Your throat cleared up with each sip, but you could practically feel your body crying out underneath you with each second you stayed up.

"You're okay, pretty girl. I'll take care of you, did so good for me," Suguru murmured praises against your back, wrapping his arms around your stomach and keeping you close. Keeping you far warmer than any blanket you've bought as of yet.

Silence clung onto the room, but it was a comfortable silence this time around. All of the previous tension had disappeared, leaving the two of you spent. "I know you're still my Suguru, but thank you for answering the questions. You scared the shit out of me when you popped up in the suit."

"I know. Wouldn't hurt you or another person, though. Please trust me," Suguru peppered a kiss onto your upper back, continuing with his gentle motions. After nearly splitting your body in half, he was being delicate. Keeping you safe and assured.

Suguru looked over at the drawer where your phone rested, remembering all about the 'interview' he'd signed up for. "I'm gonna go see how photogenic we were, I'll be right back," He spoke quietly, pressing a small kiss onto your forehead before getting up from the squeaky mattress. It'd been a miracle that the old thing hadn't given out just from tonight.

"Yeah, okay," you spoke through ragged breaths, watching him stand up and move through the shadows of your room. Suguru took his time in picking your phone up and looking through it, watching every second of the 'film.'

"Think we're gonna have to do re-do the interview," Suguru noted, watching through the footage recorded. The phone had toppled over around 1/3 into the video, completely coming to a stop shortly after with a 'storage full' pop-up. Your chest heaved, barely registering any of the words he was saying. Interview..?

Oh, right. The Venom article you still had to finish writing. By tomorrow. Very important.

"You don't mind that right, baby?"

(a/n: this is like the first time i’ve tried writing monsterfucking so if it’s buns, don’t let me know ❤️)

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 17 days ago

Text

Twelve Days: Part 2^**

In days 5-8 Y/N confronts her sister about her behavior. The tension between Harry and Y/N starts to grow as they continue spending more time together after hours until it's just impossible not to address it. READ PART 1 HERE

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions and use of alcohol and drugs, breast/ nipple play, dry humping

WC: 7.1K

Day Five:

When you woke up the following morning you were alone in the bed which definitely was for the best because you felt really guilty for the night before. Yeah, you hadn’t actually gone through with anything terrible, but you two had crossed a boundary that shouldn’t have been crossed. Maybe it was because you were both a little heartbroken over the things that you were going through personally, but ultimately, that didn’t really justify anything.

Despite the very successful night of sleep you’d had, you felt a little unwell. Your stomach felt funky and your thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. You didn’t want to get out of bed today even though you knew that a walk around the neighborhood would help you feel a little less gross, both physically and mentally. It seemed like a great day to just be lowkey and rot and then your door creaked open and you sat up to see your mom peering in.

“Sorry, I thought you’d still be asleep. Was just seeing if your sister had stayed with you or something.” She explained with a worried expression on her face.

“No. I was alone. All night.” You added with a nervous lump in your throat.

“Hmmm…did she say anything to you last night?”

“No. But she was out with Claudia, she’s not here?”

“She is, but she said they came back together.”

“Maybe she went out for a walk or a run. I saw her the other day when I went out.” You explained and she nodded and left.

The logical thing to assume was that she had spent the night with that guy she was sleeping with. Doing this on a family trip was a new low. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so bad for having the hots for Harry because she was out with another guy! That alone was enough to motivate you to get out of bed and you called your sister while you paced around your room back and forth waiting former to pick up.

“Hello?” She hummed happily and you sighed.

“Where are you? Everyone’s freaking out!” You whisper shouted, trying not to sound too angry with her because you technically weren’t supposed to know what was actually going on.

“I went to have breakfast with a friend! I left a note by the door!” She said and you sighed, “I’ll be back in like an hour tops.”

“Why didn’t you text Harry back then?”

“I didn’t want to text him and wake him. You guys did a lot yesterday and he was pretty tired. I got back late and slept in Claudia’s room.” She fibbed and you hummed.

“Well just…hurry back.”

“Yeah. Bye!” She said and hung up quickly.

You got your slippers on and headed out to the kitchen where your mom was making coffee for everyone.

“She answered my call. She’s out at breakfast with a friend who’s also here, I guess.” You said and just like that, the crease between your mother’s brows was ironed out.

“Oh, thank god.”

“She said she left a note by the door.” You said and your aunt hurried over and was soon back in sight with a piece of paper.

“I may have missed it in my panic!” Claudia chuckled and your dad rolled his eyes.

“Well, what do you guys want to eat?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t care, I just want some mimosas.” Harry said and headed to the fridge to get the champagne.

“Excellent idea!” Your dad exclaimed happily and you smiled and started heading back to your bedroom.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Harry asked.

“Just gonna wash up and get dressed.” You informed and he smiled and got back to his task.

Despite her promise to return in an hour or so, your sister was not back until nearly two in the afternoon. Your parents were inside watching a movie with your aunt and you and Harry were pretending to play tennis. Pretending because you had no idea what you were doing, you were just winded from all the back and forth. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You and Harry were laughing about you accidentally hitting the ball over the fence when your sister came out to the back and towards the pool house. Suddenly the laughter died down and Harry headed towards you.

“I should go talk to her.” He said and you bit your lip for a second.

“Ummm…let me.” You said, “I can get her to tell me the truth and then talk a little sense into her.”

“You shouldn’t have to…”

“I know. But this is super fucked up and everyone’s all confused and she’s just going to yell at you, so let me try.”

“Alright.” He agreed and you nodded once before heading towards the pool house.

You did feel extremely nervous as you reached for the door handle but you had to talk some sense into her. It seemed that she was just over pretending to be happy and didn’t care how it all came out. However, you knew that your sister actually really cared for how she was outwardly perceived, so this was extremely out of character for her. As soon as she heard the front door open she sighed.

“Spare me the argument, Harry. He’s gone.” She called out as you rounded the corner.

“Who’s gone?” You asked and she quickly turned around from walking over to the bathroom.

“No one. Just a friend Harry’s jealous of.” She mumbled with a shake of her head.

“Mmm…some friend that must be because Harry’s not the jealous type.” You said as you sat on the corner of the bed. Showing her that you had no intention of leaving any time soon.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’ve known the guy for almost 10 years, Julie! It takes a lot to upset him. Him not being the jealous type was one of the things you really liked about him when you were dating. You told me about it many times.” You reminded her. “You’ve got everyone thrown for a loop with how you’ve been acting.”

“Oh my god…don’t make this a thing.”

“I’m not! This is very much a thing already. What is going on, huh?” You pressed and she sighed.

“Nothing, Y/N! Just mind your business.”

“What’s really going on?” You pressed and she groaned.

“You wouldn’t even understand so just stay out of it, Y/N!” she raised her voice.

“Try me.” You said simply and her anger seemed to dissipate and she just stood there for a second, genuinely giving it some thought. And then her eyes started welling up.

“I can’t.” She said and you frowned.

“Why not?” You questioned.

“Because you’re going to think so badly of me.” She said and you frowned.

“Jules, I’d never judge you.” You said sincerely and she sighed. “Look ummm…Harry, h-he told me about you.” You said carefully and her jaw dropped as her tears started to fall. She quickly sat beside you and started sobbing, so you pulled her into your side. It was strange for you but you wanted her to know that this mistake she had made wasn’t enough to make you not love her. Despite your slightly complicated relationship, she was important to you and you wanted nothing more than the best for her. “It’s okay…” you assured her.

After she calmed down some, you grabbed her Stanley for her and let her drink a bit as you grabbed some toilet paper so that she could blow her nose. She let out a long exhale and then let herself fall back onto the mattress.

“I’m a major demisexual and I’m in love with someone else and yes, I’ve been…having an affair with him.” She confessed.

“For how long?” You asked.

“There’s been three separate times.” She explained, “The first time Harry and I had been dating a few months and ummm…it happened at a work party and it went on for about a month. It ended because Harry caught us a friend’s wedding and he dumped me for a few days for it. Then again, right after Harry and I got engaged.” You frowned as you heard this, “And that one lasted like four months.” She explained and your jaw slightly dropped upon hearing this. “I know…and it just…it fucked me up! I started to doubt and was sort of on the fence until we were like three months away from the wedding! I just, I was trying to find the courage to end it with Harry.” she cried and you nodded as you listened, “And then it was the month before the wedding and I missed my period.” Julie explained and you nodded. “By that point Joey and I hadn’t seen each other for three months! Because he had given me an ultimatum and that’s what made me decide to leave Harry. But yeah, then that happened and I just…felt like it was a sign to stay.” She shrugged.

“So…what happened with that?” You asked carefully.

“Nothing. I mean, I was just late. Probably stress from the wedding and the decision I was making with Harry…and I think I had started on birth control a few weeks prior, so yeah, it was just a late. But I still took that as a sign, you know and I stayed with Harry. I didn’t talk to Joey all this time until last year. I decided that maybe being friends on social media would be alright after all those years. Like we were such good friends and I did miss that. But obviously, that was a slippery slope and here we are… and I mean, I’ve loved him all this time. But I’ve also loved Harry enough to stay. But then when Joey and I started talking again that love for Harry was gone.” She said sadly. She brought her hands up to her face and groaned into them. “I’m such a horrible human being! I’m a piece of shit!”

“You’re not, Jules. You did a horrible and shitty thing, but you’re not that.” You assured her. “If you don’t love Harry anymore then why don’t you just get divorced?” You asked.

“This is what I hate myself for most!” She cried. “I just know that…leaving Harry is not the best option for me. Joey is flighty and kind of a fuck boy! But he still cares about me. So then I think if I show him that I am that committed to him he won’t be so afraid of trying with me for real.” She explained and you wanted to laugh. That was maybe the most delusional thing you had ever heard in your life. You felt so bad for her.

“I know how fucking delusional that makes me sound! Trust me, I know! That’s why I haven’t left Harry. Because logic is completely out the window right now! And I mean, m-maybe with time I’ll fall for Harry again? I mean, I did once before…” she explained as the tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry.” You said lowly.

“Don’t be…I did this to myself.” She sniffled. “And now I’m dragging one of the best persons in the world down with me.” She whimpered before she started to cry again. “I know I’m being selfish but I’m so scared!” She broke down again and you pouted.

“I know how scary it is to be alone, but you’re going to punish Harry for it and I don’t need to tell you how unfair that is. You get both things and he gets nothing? I mean, you both deserve the chance to be with people that make you happy.” You reasoned.

“Yeah…I know.” She whimpered before letting out another sob.

She continued crying for several more minutes before she had calmed down. You were gently rubbing her back as she was turned away from you. You could sense her shame, is was so great that it was suffocating the both of you.

“Look, I think you need to have a nice relaxing shower. Wash the day away, yeah? And I can make you a really great cocktail and then we can watch Mean Girls.” You suggested and she rolled over and gave you a confused look.

“That’s not a Christmas movie!” She exclaimed. Your family also had a rule that during the Christmas season you could only watch Christmas movies with another member of the family.

“I’m talking about the real, iconic version. Like it’s not entirely Christmas-y but it does contain one of the most iconic Christmas scenes in cinematic history and that alone makes it Christmas-y enough!” You defended and she smirked.

“You’re ight. Love that movie.” She hummed and you smiled.

“I know.” You responded.

“Well, it sounds like a plan.” She said with a smile.

“Alright.” You confirmed.

“On your way out can you send Harry in? I should apologize.” She decided and you nodded and got up to go.

Harry was sitting on one of the pool chairs when you emerged from the pool house and he instantly sat up and glanced around to see you approaching. He looked a little nervous and you offered a small smile to reassure him some.

“She told me the truth.” You said and he looked surprised, “I know. And ummm, she asked if you’d give her a few, she wants to apologize.” You said and his features softened.

“Yeah, of course.” He said and immediately sat up.

“Good luck in there.”

“Thank you.” He smiled as you went your separate ways. Despite how badly you wanted to eaves drop in hopes for some indication of how the supposed apology was going, when you got to your bedroom you decided to have a shower instead.

By the time you were out and making the cocktails, Harry was also arriving at the kitchen from his bedroom, freshly showered.

“Can you add a bit more f’me? I’m gonna watch the film with you two.”

“Oh, sure!” You agreed easily. “So it’s good with you guys?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” He assured and you were pleased with that.

And truly, for the rest of the day everything was great. It honestly felt like the tension between them that you’d sensed this entire time had evaporated and you hoped that it would stay that way for the remainder of the trip.

Day Six:

It had been a really fun day with your family. You’d decided to go to the outlets, and on the way back stopped at the casino where you’d actually won nearly $1,200, just your luck. And then had an excellent dinner with everyone before you got back to the house. Despite your busy and exciting day, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling. To be fair it was only around 10pm, but you’d had a very long day. And then, the sound of a few quiet knocks on the door made you smile.

“Yeah?” You spoke up and Harry peeked into the bedroom with a smile on his face as well.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” You mumbled. “Come in.” You said and he hurried in and closed the door quietly.“Wanna smoke a bit?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yes, please.” He hummed with zeal and you chuckled as you got out of bed. You tended to get hot in bed, so you always wore something more revealing on top and some long bottoms. It was currently cool in the room though and the thin, baby blue tank you were wearing was leaving nothing to the imagination, so it was no surprise that Harry did a double take before quickly looking down at his phone.

“I’m gonna grab a sweater, s’cold out. Can you grab the weed? There’s a little black bag from the dispensary in the bedside drawer.” You instructed and he nodded. You hurried into your closet and grabbed the first one you saw and grabbed your lighter from your purse as you hurried out. And soon you and Harry were positioning the chairs so that the edge of the roof didn’t obstruct the view of the starry sky.

“Just pick what you want.” You said and he started looking through the bag and pulled out a more indica heavy blend. “Ooh, good choice. But we’ll definitely need snacks. And water.” You said and he grinned.

You made a quick trip to the kitchen and grabbed some cereal and milk because you figured that it would satiate the munchies and also hydrate you to counteract the cottonmouth. And with that settled you were finally passing the joint back and forth and staring up at the sky. You had been talking about TV shows and things you’d read, music you were into at the moment, it was really nice and comfortable with him. And after a moment of silence Harry turned to you.

“I have to ask…” he said and you turned to look at him and nodded, “Ummm, the day when you…walked in on me?” He asked and you nodded nervously, “Did you see everything?” He asked and your groaned and looked away bashfully and he chuckled. “No point in lying about it…” he said and you turned back, face beet red as you faced him.

“I didn’t. I promise!” You insisted.

“Okay…” he hummed, still in slight disbelief.

“It’s true!” You pressed once more.

“I’m just teasing you.” He grinned.

“Well stop, it’s making me feel bad all over again!” You chuckled and he chuckled along with you.

“Don’t feel bad. I understand the curiosity just gets you sometimes.” He said and you hummed and shrugged in agreement.

“So…what’s next for you. I-if you guys end things?”

“I don’t know…I’ve been approached about a tenure track opening at the university and I’m trying to decide if it’s worth it.” He said and you nodded in agreement.

“I know I could go back home…work at my alma mater…be closer to my family…”

“But?”

“In a way, going back would feel like defeat. Like I just wasted all of this time.” He said and you felt sad for him as he confessed this.

“Well, you got offered a tenure track position! Clearly you haven’t been wasting your time.” You encouraged him and he smiled.

“That’s true…”

“But I mean, if you decide to go back then at least you’ll be closer to your family.” You said with a smile.

“Well, my family is kind of a mess so…things are better with us when we have some distance between us. That’s why coming here was an idea to begin with” He explained.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Sorry.” You said.

“It’s alright.” He assured you. “Let’s talk about you… I know you’re a caring person but you’re just deflecting at this point.” he said and you smiled a bit and shrugged.

“It’s just…when I think about it I still get really sad.” You explained, with a sad smile on your face and his gaze softened.

“I saw the depression meds in the drawer. You know, you really shouldn’t smoke while you take them. You could get serotonin syndrome.” He said with concern.

“Oh, I haven’t started them. I was supposed to a few weeks ago and well, I had brought them to start on Sunday but I forgot.” You explained.

“Why haven’t you started them?”

“I don’t know…not any good enough reasons though.” You shrugged.

“Like?” He pressed and you sighed and just straightened out and looked at the beautifully starry sky. You hadn’t seen that many stars in a long time.

“My pride…” you chuckled dryly and he sputtered out a laugh as he tried to keep quiet.

“Okay…in what way?”

“Just in the most obvious way…like this person affected me so much that it broke my mind and unbalanced by brain!” You whisper shouted and then sat up straight and brought the joint to your mouth and took a small hit before blowing out the smoke. “How could I let someone hold so much power over me?!” You chuckled in disbelief as your eyes welled up with tears and handed over the joint.

“This is not your fault. You loved and trusted, that’s not wrong.” He reassured you and you sighed. You watching him take a hit and then sighed.

“You’re right. But I still feel weak for it, you know? So ummm…yeah, not taking those meds yet and still surviving and finding joy every now and again, it makes me feel a little bit better.” You confessed.

“And you feel alright?”

“Yeah and getting better, too. Slowly but surely.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll take them when you start to plateau.” He requested as he handed back the dwindling joint.

“Promise.” You assured before taking the last hit and then smashing it against the ashtray to completely extinguish it. “Should we put something on and eat our cereal?”

“Yeah, lets do it.” You smiled.

Before you knew it, the both of you were reclining against the headboard with your cereal bowls and watching SNL highlights.

Day Seven:

Once again, you had woken up alone. You had gone on your walk and when you returned Harry and Julie were already in the kitchen.

“Great, you’re back! Guess what!?” Harry exclaimed.

“What?” You asked as you put your AirPods back into their case.

“Save Ferris has a show at Pappy and Harriet’s tonight!”

“Oh, no way?!” You gasped in disbelief and your sister turned to you.

“You know who that is?” She asked and you nodded.

“I had a ska phase in high school.” You shrugged and she knocked her head back and laughed.

“Oh, right! God… glad you got through that.” She said and you flipped her off as you started to head to your room to shower. “So what? Do you want to go?” Julie asked and you stopped and turned towards her and then glanced to Harry who was smiling expectantly.

“Ummm…yeah! I’d like that actually.” You confirmed.

“Perfect! We’ll get the tickets, don’t worry about it. Merry Christmas.” She said to you and you smiled, “And well, I’m just going to get drunk because I don’t know what the fuck that band is.” She added and you chuckled.

“Well I think you’re going to have fun. And this is like a huge dream come true for me because I never thought I’d ever get to see them!” You said excitedly and she chuckled, “Thank you! I love you.” You said pointedly and then hurried off to shower.

All day the anticipation for this show was building up and building up. By the time you were leaving the house Julie was already tipsy. You were driving since they had paid, it was the least you could do, and you were actually glad you had driven, it was a nice distraction from just wanting to talk to Harry about anything and everything while your sister just laughed at TikTok’s in the backseat. You were also kinda worried that she might make herself car sick, especially as you started going up the winding roads to Pioneer Town.

You guys had intentionally arrived early to take a walk through the historical little western town. You looked through a few shops and then made your way to the saloon next door to the venue and had some tacos while you guys drank and chatted until it was time to make the short walk back to the venue. You guys waited in the merch line for a bit before heading over to the outdoor stage area and finding a spot to stand. Despite this not being a genre that your sister enjoyed, she was having a pretty decent time. And you and Harry had enjoyed the opener and also Save Ferris. You guys were bopping along and singing the songs. Your sister had a few more drinks during the show and by the the time it was all over she was draped around you as you guys headed to your car.

“Want me to drive?” Harry asked as he opened the back right door to help you get Julie inside.

“I’m alright.” You assured him. Your sister groaned as she dropped down onto the seat. “Jules, seatbelt on please.” You said and she hummed.

“M’going, m’going…” she slurred. Once she was all strapped in you and Harry got settled in and you were making the drive back. It had only been a few minutes before you heard your sister slightly snoring from the back.

“Did she pass out?” You asked Harry and he glanced back and smiled.

“Yeah, she’s out.” He confirmed and you chuckled.

“Thanks for mentioning this show. It was super fun.” You smiled at Harry quickly before turning back to the road.

“I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it!” Harry explained with a smile, “Also, are you generally this great to go to shows with?” He asked and you giggled.

“I don’t know…I guess?”

“It’s just so nice to be present isn't it?” He asked and you nodded.

“Definitely. I get what you mean.” You agreed, “But specially here. It’s such an intimate venue. We couldn’t haven’t seen Save Ferris in a better place.” You gushed and he nodded with a wide smile.

The rest of the way you guys were exchanging brief but charged glances. Even if you were just talking about the show and music, the air between you two was once again tense and you finally got a break from it when you arrived. You were giggling as you tried to get Julie inside as quietly as possible on your own since Harry had to pee. While you struggled with the task at hand, you had eventually made it to the pool house. She trudged in and just dropped herself on the bed and you chuckled before letting her be. When you returned to the main house Harry was in the kitchen, grabbing himself a glass of water.

“Want one?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You confirmed and he handed the glass over to you before grabbing another for himself. You quickly drank it down and washed it before setting it back on the drying rack and then asking for his glass and washing his as well.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hummed.

Moments later you were both walking down the dark hallway to get to your bedrooms. When you reached his door you stopped and he turned towards you.

“I also wanted to say that you look very pretty tonight.” He said softly and you smiled.

“Well thank you.” You responded bashfully.

“Of course.” He smiled nervously. You both looked at each other for a moment, the tension from before was rising between you again.

“Ummm, well…I should get to bed. Thank you again for finding this. I really did have the best time. I needed it.” You stated with a genuine smile as your gaze met his own. It lingered for a few more seconds before you felt all bashful again and you blinked away quickly. “Anyway, good night!” You chirped softly before he bid you a good night and you hurried into your room.

You got changed and got ready for bed, but before you could get into it you felt a funny tug in your tummy. Yes, you had spent a whole afternoon basically with Harry, but having him in your room at night, it helped you sleep through the whole night. Which as you’d mentioned to him before, was a current struggle of yours. And more than that, you liked the warmth of him beside you. You loved how deep and raspy his voice got as you spoke late into the night. You liked that one of your pillows smelled like him from how much of a habit it had become to have him come see you and you were working up the guts to go ask him. You hurried to your bedroom door and swung it open only to see Harry already a few steps away from your door.

“Hi.” He smiled as he came closer.

“Hi.” You smiled up at him as he stood before you. “Wanna come in?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and stepped inside.

Before long you were propped up on the pillowed side by side, TV on some old reruns. You were barely paying attention because you were using all of your will power to try and not turn to face him. If you did, surely you’d lose all self-control and do something stupid like lean over to kiss him. Already, the warmth coming off of him was enough to make you want to close the small gap between the two of you. But then, from your peripherals you saw him steal a glance quickly. Your heart started to race, you were buzzing from head to toe as you debated whether to glance over as well. Your heart won that battle as you turned towards him and he smiled slightly.

“What?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Nothing just…we get along too well.” He shrugged and you smiled.

“Too well?” You asked and he hummed. “Maybe our personal situations are influencing a lot of the…vibes, you know?” You asked.

“Why do you say that?” He asked.

“Because, we’ve both been a bit neglected and disappointed by the people we loved. Like…for lack of better terms I think we’re both a little…thirsty.” You said as you giggled and he smiled.

“That’s true.” He smiled.

“And well, then with like the underlying sadness, sometimes you just aren’t thinking all that clearly about things that you’d normally just… push aside.”

“Like what?” He pressed and you sighed.

“Like why we suddenly have the hots for each other!” You whisper shouted and he chuckled. “Like I’m suddenly very aware of you.” You explained.

“I think that was from seeing me half naked.” He said and you groaned in embarrassment as you let yourself fall onto your pillows. “Hey, hey…” Harry giggled as he turned onto his side to face you, “I’m teasing you.” He assured as he glanced down at you.

“I know, but still not my finest moment.” You reminded him with a playful roll of your eyes. But then he reached for your face and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I almost kissed you the other day, which…is equally as bad so I’d say we’re both on thin ice. And well, it’s not like I don’t want to now or something…Like I know that no one would find out about it-”

“What If they do somehow?” You asked nervously.

“They won’t. But if they did, it’s not like I was gonna be around you guys for much longer any way, with the divorce an all…” he said with a small shrug.

“So you’re going to get divorced?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. Gonna get it going when we get back home.” He said and you nodded.

Your eye contact with him didn’t waiver for another few seconds and before you knew it, you were both leaning in slowly. He exhaled shakily before you finishing closing the gap between your lips. It was just a small and quick touch of your lips together before you both pulled away. Your noses were nearly touching as you just hovered near each other for a few seconds. But from one second to the next, his will power snapped and he was kissing you again gently. Over and over, in quick little pecks, lips smearing together for seconds at a time, both too scared to kiss with a bit more fervor as to not find out just how far it could go. But like he said, no would find out…

“Fuck it then.” You whispered as you reached around his neck and he pulled you in closer by the waist. Your kiss deepened quickly, you moaned at the taste of his mouth, feeling his tongue smooth over your lips and for his teeth to nibble at your bottom lip… you were reeling. Falling blissfully into a state of non-worry as you sunk into the delicious mattress and were blanketed by Harry’s warmth and weight over you. His constant squeeze at your hip was telling you that his body was screaming to do more with his hands, but he was trying not to do too much. You pulled away from the kiss quickly, smiling as he chanted after your lips, “Just wanna tell you that you can…” you trailed off as he smooched over your lips quickly, “Y-you can touch me more.”

As soon as you gave him the green light he slid his warm hand down the side of your thigh and to the underside where he hoisted it up around his own hip. Then he smoothed his hand back up your thigh, then up your waist, but from under your shirt. And slowly, he covered more skin until he was sliding his big, warm palm over your breast. You moaned as he gave it a gentle squeeze. The curiosity with which he was feeling you out was reminiscent of a very early sexual experience you had with some guy at a birthday party in the 8th grade, with all that seven minutes in heaven shit.

“So you’re a boobs guy…” you giggled as he swiped his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“Definitely a boobs guy.” He mumbled into your lips before kissing you a few more times. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked and you bit your lip as you weighed out your options. But who were you kidding, the thought of having those same lips all over your breasts had you slicking up your underwear even more than they already were.

“Yeah.” You consented verbally and you sat up as he helped pull your body free from the shirt and then dropped it on an empty part of the bed.

Harry’s warm, smooth lips started to kiss down your jaw, nibbling a few times on his way down to the column of your neck. You held in your giggles from his stubble tickling your sensitive skin. He had both of his hands on your breasts now as he sat over you, he was teasing your nipples, being so light and airy with his touches, it had you squirming. You knew he’d get there soon, but soon wasn’t happening as fast as you wanted.

“Please!” You whimpered and he glanced up at you and smirked.

“I’m going.” He assured you and he lowered himself until he was face level with your breasts.

He wasted no time in parting his lips and sucking your nipple between them. You whimpered and wove your fingers into his hair. He sucked harder and you gripped at his hair harder. His other hand kneaded over your other breast as you writhed beneath him. And as you wiggled around trying to part your legs to wrap around him, he pulled one out from under him and lowered his hips a bit as you ground up and that’s when you felt the bulge in his pants. He was so fucking hard.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he kissed back up your neck and finally back at your lips as he started to grind his cock against you. One of your hands slid up his arm, feeling at his bulging muscles. The other slid down to his backside, encouraging him to keep going. It wasn’t so much the feeling of the dry hump as it was the desperation that existed between you two. It would feel wrong to fuck so quickly, but you wanted to so badly that you were both willing to settle for this. It was a little bit sick and a lot pathetic, a true reflection of you two as you made out sloppily while rubbing fronts.

You’d been struggling with your sex drive since the depression and you really hadn’t needed to be in tune with it, seeing as you had planned to steer clear of anything with another person for the foreseeable future. But now here you were, wetter than you’d been in months, feeling the fabric of your underwear clinging to the skin of your pussy. You needed more if you were going to come and you really, really wanted to come.

“Harry…Harry…” you mumbled against his lips, “Take these off.” you panted as you tugged at the band of his pants and boxer briefs.

“Sure?” He asked and you nodded.

“It’ll be easier to come like that.” You said and he smiled. “What?”

“I just…hadn’t really thought about that, I was just kinda happy to be here.” He chuckled and you giggled.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just got a little carried away, s’been a while.” You explained.

“For me too. I want to…I just want to make sure, you know?”

“Well, thank you for making sure.” You whispered and he smiled down at you before kissing you again. You two struggled for a bit as he tried to get his pants off without stopping the kisses, but eventually you had to and you watched as he knelt up onto the bed. His cock was so fucking pretty, it made you salivate. He wasn’t shaved clean but he was definitely trimmed. You also wanted to get his balls in your mouth and make him squirm with pleasure. You also started to get your pants off and he helped you pull them off of your legs. Your underwear matched with the sleep tank you had on, a nice baby blue color, but they did nothing to hide how fucking wet you were.

After tearing off his shirt, Harry had your legs spread, holding you down by the backs of the thighs as he slid his cock over your clothed crease. Back and forth, over and over, the head of his cock was colliding with your clit. His foreskin was starting to pull back to reveal his tip, meaning that despite how hard he already felt to you, he had more to go. You were trying to keep your sounds at a minimum, but you were starting to get close to the edge. The steady pace Harry was going at, plus the weight and warmth of his cock gliding over you and between your sticky pussy lips were all pushing you to fall apart quickly.

“You’re gonna make me come so hard…” you moaned and he groaned and kissed you.

“Good, baby. Come for me.” He mumbled against your lips and you nodded. You were inhaling his exhales as you kissed sloppily. You could feel your legs starting to tense up and your walls starting to tighten inside of you as the pleasure started to become more concentrated in the pit of your core. It was so hot and tingly and lovely, it was starting to ache, you could feel your slick starting to pump out of your needy little hole. If Harry decided to try put it in you’d let him do it. Just processing that thought and how possible it was had your orgasm overcoming you. Your breath hitched and your whole body went stiff for a second before the pleasure just exploded. A gratifying moan slipped past your lips and Harry was quick to cover your mouth, chuckling lowly as you got lost in the pleasure of the orgasm. He watched your breasts bounce and jiggle beautifully as your body rolled gently with the waves of your orgasm. You were gripping the sheets so tight that your fingers slightly ached but it just felt so good. Even as he kept going, you welcomed the sensitivity. He pulled his hand from your mouth and reached for one of your boobs again before glancing down at his cock all slicked up with your slick and cum.

“Fuck I’m gonna come!” Harry mumbled and you bit your lip in anticipation. Opposite of what you expected, he slowed his pace and then grabbed the crotch of your panties and pulling it to the side. He moaned as he saw your whole pussy and then laid his cock over it again a few times and then very intentionally, he pressed against your entrance, it was making you tremble. “Fuck…gonna let me come all over your pussy?” He asked as he looked up at you and you nodded, mouth agape, eyes nearly closed from the insurmountable waves of lust.

“Please, need it so bad.” You encouraged his orgasm. And moments later he was groaning lowly as you felt his thick, warm load start to spill all over your pussy. His slow ruts against you were making you melt and you propped your self up on your elbows to see the mess he was making against you. “Do you always cum that much? Fuck…” you chuckled as you glanced up at him and he just smirked at you as he came to a slow stop.

“Do you feel bad?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not yet at least…” you added and he nodded.

“Okay, me either.” He assured you. “Just wanted to check before I kissed you again.”

“Oh, okay.” You whispered as he leaned in and kissed you slowly again.

Eventually you got cleaned up and back into bed with him. You knew that you would wake up alone, but still weren’t sure if you’d be happy about it or not.

Day Eight:

When your eyes opened the following morning you felt fine. You weren’t afraid to face Harry, you weren’t regretful of what you’d done. However, you did find yourself wondering when you’d be able to get away with it again.

What did concern you is how he would feel about it this morning. He was eager in the heat of the moment but what about now, after the post nut clarity? The more and more you gave it some thought the more you psyched yourself out and were avoiding joining everyone for breakfast. You were in your patio, smoking a joint to help you build up some appetite, but also to help you relax and be normal when you were in the same room with your aunt, parents, and brother in law who had just come loads over your bare pussy, and of course, your sister, his wife. Well, soon to be ex-wife, but still! It wasn’t official yet!

Finally you decided to bite the bullet and headed towards the kitchen. You greeted everyone good morning and then glanced to Harry who flashed you an easy smile.

“You alright?” He asked. What sounded like the most casual question to everyone else was the most charged question between you and him. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. All good.” You reassured him and he smiled and nodded silently before continuing to eat his breakfast.

NEXT PART...

OMG SORRY FRIENDS! FOTGOT TO TAAAAG!

@daphnesutton @mads3502 @triski73 @xoxxjada @fangirl509east @stylesftcher @charlottesrecommendations @taintedwonder @goobernickle @loverofhsandallthings1d

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sunboki · 9 months ago

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— THE ALCHEMIST. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. historical! au, set in 1940’s Korea, alchemist! au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. abusive behavior toward women, impoverished communities, overall sexist beliefs of the time, reader dresses as a man, mentions of death & disease, smoking (not reader or minho), war conflict, making out??

WORD COUNT. 9.6k words

AUG'S NOTES. although it was a bit out of the blue, i had such a great time writing and shaping this universe, thank you to all the love and support thus far<3 also, huge thanks to @comet-falls for instilling the peaky blinders/historical! minho vision in my head with how incredible tooth and claw was, i truly owe it to you :)

SYNOPSIS. Cities stricken with poverty, the lack of male presence in your home while surviving in a male-dominated society leaves meager food on the table and a piling debt. Left no choice but to make a risky decision, you decide that, if biology wanted to fail you, you’d simply try another approach.

alternatively :

In which deception introduces you into an entirely new reality, and The Alchemist.

It’s one thing surviving with the knowledge you can change something, whatever it may be that’s wrong.

It’s another when that problem isn’t merely changeable, but biological.

Your problem? You’re a woman.

Not as easy to fix, right?

With your father lost in the war, fruitlessly straining to support a family of girls, the household is left helpless.

Representation is nonexistent, and merely walking outside frets harassment and laughter struck in your face at the mention of working.

A woman, working? Hilarious.

Or, apparently to the men in pubs it certainly is.

Some things you can’t change, yes, but there are always alternatives. And as for now, you’re helplessly searching high and low for that alternative, whatever it may be.

Selling yourself is possible, though the inability to remain connected to your family eliminates that option.

When you get so desperate, there’s no incentive in guarding your pride. Because being called derogatory names isn’t as bad as losing them, the people you call home.

October welcomes little warmth, biting your fingertips and sending a tremor of chills cascading down your spine. Minimal sunlight peers through dense clouds, shrouding the atmosphere in a depressing haze.

You’re on your way to the apothecary, but not to purchase anything. The pennies in your pocket won’t amount to anything in the face of medicinal prices, which happens to be one of your many alternatives.

Since day one, you’ve had a rock to rely on.

Medicine.

Lack of money meant improper living conditions, entailing sickness.

Constantly.

Whether it was your mother, your younger sister, yourself, an infection of some sort occupied your respiratory system, wreaking havoc for wallets and mental health altogether.

Purchasing necessary medication became impossible the further you drowned in your debt, to the point drastic measures needed to be taken in order to prevent death from infesting itself in the household as well.

Then came the question. If you couldn’t purchase the medicine itself, why not collect the ingredients?

Alternatives.

Behind the apothecary you discovered mint hedges that, if mixed with wormwood and balm, could aid in curing Sun-ja’s current sickness, colic.

Although, you’d have to be swift in your efforts, ensuring the shop owner didn’t notice your presence.

Too many times had you nearly been caught, risking a good beating from the red-haired, burly man regarded as Mr. Myeong.

Fiery red hair complimented an equally unruly personality you aimed not to cross by. Ever.

Yet, unlike Mr. Myeong, his wife was the polar opposite, an ideal magnet. She was petite and soft-spoken, but out of her appealing traits, you found her resilience to be most attractive.

Mrs. Myeong is stubborn. She’s strong in what she believes, sporting an unquestionably vocal opinion that can’t be quenched.

The woman is, likely, the only woman capable of sealing her husband’s mouth shut.

Hidden between thorn ridden weeds sits your desired leaves, abundant in supply.

You clutch your satchel closer, plucking as quickly as possible whilst crouched to the ground, maneuvering through tickling grasses and itchy reeds.

Your mission remains successful, until the wretched sound of a doorknob rips your head upward, the red-haired man in question standing nonplussed, arms crossed.

He wears a cocked brow, examining what you’re desperately trying to veil away.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Stealing, are we?” Black boot clad frame thumping closer, you immediately prepare to run, hair standing on end like an agitated feline.

Instead, his huge hand swoops down to grab your collar, other evidently ready to land a harsh slap to your face.

Instinctively cringing, you brace for the stinging impact.

That is, before a saccharine, lullaby-worthy voice rings from the cracked doorway, belonging to none other than Mrs. Myeong.

“Honey! Have you seen the new envelope that came in?”

Heels clicking whilst padding over cobblestone to where you two stand, her husband fixates you with a stern, threatening glare.

Finally dropping your frame to the ground, you slump forward, pulse pounding loud enough you fear your chest may implode.

Mrs. Myeong, though wearing a taut expression, ushers him off, delivering a curt nod your way, intentional brows furrowed in place.

‘Thank you’ You wish to say, but hold your tongue, watching them disappear inside.

Another time.

Walking home was rather uneventful (much to your delight), left to enjoy the crisp, cool air sifting through your lungs in steady rhythm, the lazy billows of cigar smoke dwindling from gaping doorways.

Calm.

Nothing calm ever lasts long.

Stashing the house key back into your decrepit leather draw bag, your footsteps still upon entering, struck terror-filled.

Your mother, strawn across the floor, hacks amongst her rampant coughs, body convulsing in desperate shivers, skin drenched a ghastly blue.

Sprinting to her side, you kneel down, rolling the woman over to find her face utterly battered, new black eye beginning to swell, cheek bruised a mawkish purple against hollowed cheekbones.

Sharks.

To your left Sun-ja hides in the corner, rags for a blanket pulled to her chest, shielded between the wall and a tipped cabinet.

Over and over they’ve begun visiting, to the point your mother became recognizable by her continuous black eye, her torn clothing and stooped posture.

Exhausted, she was exhausted.

Yet, she took the beatings. The torturous punches. Jarring slaps, traumatic insults, tarnishing. Your mother took it so you wouldn’t, so you and Sun-ja could live.

And it’s at that moment you make up your mind, discover this occasion’s alternative.

“Cut it off.”

“Cut.. Cut it off?” Hyunjin gapes, fingers stalling their descent down a strand of your hair.

You smile, grimacing the longer consideration poises.

No point in thinking too much.

“Yep. Give me the most boy-ish haircut you can.” You emphasize, gesturing toward his scissors expectantly.

Hyunjin, your personally appointed hairstylist, doesn’t seem too convinced. He’s debating, expertly reading your features.

Currently, you’re holed up in his room, a miniature apartment located near the furthest section of town, close to the coast.

In wee hours of morning you boarded the train here, inhaling salty, ocean-smelling breeze. Back in your old residence you met him, your neighbor Hwang Hyunjin. It’s a miracle you still stayed in contact, bond aging like the finest of wines over countless years.

Enough to where you trusted him to help you enact this alternative of yours.

Starting with a haircut.

The man stares at you through the mirror, dark, inky hair matting the longer he runs his hands through it.

Thoughtfully trying to figure out your reasoning, he evidently catches on the moment you witness his eyes roll, releasing a heaving sigh.

“You cannot be serious.”

A torrential truth keeps you from responding, gaze directed at your feet.

“Y/n,” He uttered, eyes filling with a concern you avoid meeting, avoid regarding in a whole. “You don’t have to do this, the war is going to end soon and your father will come ba—“

“He’s dead.”

Silence engulfs the room.

Collecting yourself, you scorn his frown.

“He’s dead and gone. Now I need to protect them, provide for them.“

You deny the shakiness of your voice.

“So, Hyunjin. Cut off my hair.”

Accordingly, he does without another word. Snip by snip, tress by tress falling below, scattering the tile floor in endless strands.

By the time you see yourself, it’s hard to recognize the person in the reflection. Never had you considered your hair a viable source of identity, but now that it’s so sparse, the effect is eminent.

Failing to see yourself in your own reflection beckons a different kind of sadness. For the person you’ve introduced yourself as reigns no more. She’s been replaced.

Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, embrace just as comforting as you remembered. His hand reaches to caress your cropped hair, rocking back and forth on his heels, chin resting on your head.

“Be careful, okay?”

Nodding into his shoulder, you wipe salty streaks from your cheeks.

Hurts.

“And if you need a place to take shelter, I’ll be here.”

Steadying in his hug again, you pull back, cherishing his kindness with a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you, really.”

Shaking his head at your gratitude, urging you out and lingering by the doorway till your figure retreats in the distance.

Next stop, Mrs. Myeong.

If anyone has any idea how to source the clothing you’re needing, your best chance would be thanks to her.

An hour later you arrive in familiar avenues, creeping out of sight into the apothecary in hopes the woman you’re looking for is working the counter.

Much to your pleasure, after a few unsuccessful attempts do you grasp her attention, edging forward under the guise of a regular hoping to converse.

“I need your help.”

Initially, she carries that sternness, wordlessly lifting your hooded head a bit to notice the latest adjustment. Shock written over her face, Mrs. Myeong drags you along with her, closing the door to a back room.

“My child, what is going on?” She whispers, tone urgent. You can’t help but feel fond of the affectionate nickname.

“I need male clothing and,” You hesitate, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “something to bind my chest with.”

Similar to Hyunjin, she steps back, assessing the situation at hand. Spending a brief few seconds roaming your figure, the woman works hastily toward fetching a petticoat, meticulously fitting each article atop your stock-still frame.

“You’re conceited,” she grumbles. “And foolish.” Carefully peeling off your upper-wear, she’s managed to cut a piece of thick cloth to use as a make-shift binder, assembling the fabric over your breast.

The experience, although strange, wasn’t as painful as anticipated.

“But be careful, and stay in contact.”

Your response is hushed.

“Breathe in,” The older woman instructs, securing her creation with a threaded pin before moving onto other aspects, like a proper coat and pants.

Mr. Myeong’s trousers, though having to be sewn to fit, make do, and you’re reminded to return tomorrow for shoes. Otherwise, the attire is completed, paired with a curved hat to finish.

Sure, the entire male concept is foreign, but given time, you’ll gradually acclimate.

Oh, right.

Your alternative?

Since medicine is what you know, you’ll stick with that. Difference being medicine is a men’s occupation, and so, if you can’t be a female working in the field, why not become male?

Well, somewhat become male.

It’s a risky wager, easily placing your life on the line in the process.

For your mother and Sun-ja, however, it’s your turn to take the beating. Your turn to endure.

Observation is a virtue. It can save and preserve, heed to oncoming danger, and simultaneously (and discreetly) supply useful information.

Today, seated on a bench in Daegu Station, your first observation is the abundance of people scurrying like mice.

Some tall, some short. Distinct moles, eyes. Upturned and downturned lips. Mustaches, beards. Much to see.

Your legs cross and uncross, Mr. Myeong’s oversized heeled shoes beginning to sink at your ankles. Hat strung low enough to peer out without attracting attention, your gaze is magnetically drawn to a magazine held on the adjacent side of the train tracks, title on display.

Prized Alchemist Lee Minho suspected of being the lone survivor of the Red Plagu—

Ignorant to your surroundings, your senses posed numb to the incoming train, blocking off the last few words of the title from view the moment it soars past—nearly sweeping the fedora off your head.

By the time the last few train cars passed, the man honing said magazine had disappeared, and you were left wondering if the experience was merely a figment of your imagination.

Although, you did have one lead. A name.

Lee Minho.

Where you’d find him remained unknown, deciding to rely on a magazine parlor first and foremost for more intel.

To no surprise, nearly every magazine rack lay lined with haughty opinions regarding the war and its evident cruelty.

Many onlookers of both Americans, Koreans, and foreigners alike chatter amongst themselves about their own take between gossiping hands and fumes of tobacco.

In this town, located far off in the business district by a ship port, people are everywhere.

Wives of sailors, families of soldiers off at war. Women honing gleaning parasols and ivory gloves reaching to their elbows.

Languages you’ve never heard before utter their enunciated syllables, vocabulary petulant with accent—all shrouded in dismay.

Roaming the store endlessly to no avail, you prepare to adventure back through dusty streets and battered wooden stall-shops before a peculiar name pauses your footsteps.

His name, The Alchemist, Lee Minho.

“Bring ‘em home I tell ‘ya,” An aged man by the deepened grooves of his face, hollow cheekbones and bunched wrinkles grumbles.

A fat cigar hangs loosely from thin lips, pale baker boy cap adorning a bald head.

Some sentences estranged, you identify his sentences as French, heavy in dialect, throaty and broad.

And although your fluency stay patchy, exposure from French immigrants who’ve relocated near home allow minimal understanding as to what they’re talking about.

“Say, did you hear that Lee Minho chap was a Red Plague?” His counterpart offered past his own leering cigar, foot tapping incessantly.

The other hacks his bewilderment, feeble fist pounding on an equally feeble chest.

“The Alchemist?”

The man’s astonishment returned with a nod, you lean closer, pretending to be consumed in an article.

“Said he was only nineteen when it happened. Shipped ‘em off only for disease to kill them all. One survived, now people are speculatin’ it’s him.”

Either of them sigh out long drags.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Is all the other huffs in disbelief, and upon recognizing the conversation approaching an end, you stir to action, willing your voice to deepen an octave.

Attempting to appeal in your broken French, you stall the two, cautiously claiming you’re in need of his whereabouts for an esteemed business transaction to which, through confused stares, you’re given loose directions.

Loose, but feasible.

80 Kent Avenue, dark blue doors.

Directions that, according to the sudden blank of streetlights, would have to wait until tomorrow. As for now, the world beckoned you to rest, and any progress would prove futile and rather impossible in the dark.

Luckily, a run-down Inn gifted good few hours of shut-eye before dawn peered through the windowsills and you were begrudgingly forced to your feet.

Fitting the binder snug across your body and fastening your trench coat through minuscule belt loops, you’re taught with much haste the stark difference of men’s prestige entitlement.

First access to everything, the ability to have their way with a woman whether she willingly obliges or not, and just about ten billion other things someone of your hidden status couldn’t fathom.

A man’s world is a world only possible through disguise. Yours just happens to be a last resort.

Charming the mistress at the front desk was unexpectedly effortless, not to mention how easily she spilled the details as to where Kent Avenue would be located.

Another noticeable attribute of your new appearance, no one asked as to where you were going nor your intentions, they merely dipped their heads and wished you off.

Adjustments.

Adjustments that, if you’d been born different, would be normal.

Kent Avenue lay twisted in shadows. The surrounding area brims in barely flickering labels and creaking doorways leading to who knows where. Quaint isn’t the word for it. More ancient, all-knowing.

This place has been here for centuries with many stories to tell, most just haven’t heard them yet.

Significantly dark blue doors make the Alchemist’s residence easily noticeable, starkly contrasting with wooded architecture. Massive doorknobs engraved with lions, windows shielded by moth-eaten curtains. Grand, in its own form.

You swore each door stood eight feet tall, the left in particular left slightly ajar.

Wait, ajar?

Doing a double take to ensure your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you inch forward, widening the dark gap exponentially until all you faced was a black abyss—apart from the miniature lamp beaming yellow light in a far corner.

Carefully tiptoeing into said black abyss, the further you explore, the greater the visibility increases. Leather cushioned furniture, clean, polished desks. The desk the lone lamp rests upon is a chestnut wooden, ink feathers residing in the upper corner.

Somehow, the matter grants envy, resentment grating your nerves. This man lives comfortably while other’s are beaten for possessing nothing. Maybe it’s a petty, unnecessary thought; and maybe you’re foolish, but all odds are against you, your disposition seems righteous.

Getting too lost in your head turned out foolish as well.

“What’s this?” A voice behind you whispers, voice ghosting chills tickling your neck at an alarming pace.

Whipping around, eyes struck wide in shock, the person responsible for the remark comes into view, his stature opposing the tone muttered in your ear seconds ago.

Not a plump business man like you imagined, not adorning a spectacle, no pipe in sight. Instead, one lone button right below the chest fits snug white sleeves cuffed by his elbows, black vest hugging a slim torso.

Conniving, cat-like eyes analyze your expressions while dark brown hair parts to the side, loose strands covering his right eyebrow. And when he reaches up to brush a few frayed tresses to the side you note sleek gloves covering long, pale fingers.

If anything, this man is more similar to a Vampire.

“Trespassing, are we?”

Collect yourself. This is your opportunity.

Swiftly brushing off your clothes, you clear your throat.

“I have an offer.”

“An offer?” A smile belonging to that of a Cheshire cat adorns his lips, one leg propping itself over the other, fingers intertwining in front of him.

Ensuring your voice is clear and concise (while keeping the deeper, male-ish tone), you state your claim, despising how utterly debilitating it feels being caught under his observative stare.

Like he sees through you.

“I would be a valuable asset to your studies in alchemy. I know about herbs and their uses better than anyone else, and where they’re located.”

Sure, the bargain might’ve sounded arrogant, but you were technically cosplaying as a man when most men of your time couldn’t shut up about themselves, arrogance was the least of your problems.

Gnawing at his cheek as you spoke, he pauses a moment, then laughs.

Amused.

Dark lashes dust above equally dark eyes, nearly black as they study you.

“You want to be my apprentice? Is that it?”

You remain close-lipped.

“I’ll tell you one thing, kid. This world is all about money,” He raises a cane from where he reclined, using the end to tip your chin up and meet his eyes.

“No?”

To which you simply stare back at him, refusing to avert eye-contact.

“I’m sure that’s what you’re here for anyways.” Rising from his place, he sighs heartily. “But see, I’m a greedy man, not a good man.”

Abruptly, his countenance falls flat.

“And my job isn’t fun, so you’re out of luck.”

Immediately, you’re frantic, trying your hardest to ignore his obvious statement to leave. The last thing you need is to run out of luck, run out of options.

And so, you hastily wrack your mind for a solution, an excuse, whatever keeps you in this dimly lit room.

“You- You were part of the Red Plague, weren’t you?” Spitting out words from the depths of your racing mind, The Alchemist stops, fixing you with an unreadable look.

Red Plague as in, the group of young men enlisted during the war that all died of a deadly disease but one. One who, many speculate is the man before you.

Breathe in.

“I may not know much about you, but I know what it’s like to want to save somebody.”

Breathe out.

Now it was his turn to stand there, and for a second you swore you saw a flash of sympathy cross his face.

You wet your lips. “I’ll run your errands and wash your clothing, I’ll clean this place spotless. Plus, it’s not like I’m a woman asking for a job, so please, give me a chance.”

Slowly, The Alchemist raises a brow, laugh disbelieving.

“Since when did being a woman have anything to do with this?”

Huh?

How.. odd.

If anything, the majority would wholeheartedly agree, likely hiring you on the spot with how impalpable such a jest seemed.

He would’ve laughed, maybe slapped your back. Would’ve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, proclaimed you his friend.

Yet, you almost feel flattered. Flattered in a strange, unrealistic manner.

Basking in a deplorable quietness, The Alchemist sighs, combing a gloved hand through silken strands.

“I have a spare room around that corner.” He points, leather gloves narrowly highlighted by orange lighting. “Make yourself useful, hm?”

And like that, even if it was a long shot, you landed it. More specifically, landed a job.

How preposterous.

How exciting.

Yet, it began hesitantly. As if he was initially testing your usefulness. Sending you on runs to the nearby gardens, having you make sure a concoction didn’t derange itself while he fetched better flasks. Easy things.

However, you didn’t complain. A boring job was better than no job, and as long as a few coins were emptied into your pocket afterward, you’d continue to work without whining.

Burdock, oregano. Motherwort that would erupt billows of chemically-infused air when added to oils or sugars.

Then you noticed The Alchemist. His quirks, his characteristics.

He shifts between a long trench coat or tight vests, his hair is always styled a certain way, though some days, when he just wakes up, he has this tiny bird nest of hair atop his head, it’s charming.

He yawns a lot.

He wears heeled shoes, maybe from his shorter height, maybe preference.

And rather peculiarly, the longer you stay in his lair, the greater you notice the many scars littering his forearms, collarbones. Miniature cuts and imprints left on porcelain skin.

Those observations, conjoined with his reactions, make for a truly interesting character.

Reactions being his dislike toward loud noises, the matter in which his shoulders scrunch at a loud clap outside, eyes blown wide, fearful.

The longer you stay in his lair, the more you notice him, nonetheless his fears. Whether suspicion clarifies anything in specific, there’s no denying he’s a man of war.

Lee Minho has secrets, and as badly as your nosiness itches to uncover them, you, as you had promised earlier, will keep your lips sealed.

And it makes you wonder, what’s life like on your side of the street? What throng of unfairness left you awash, left you both suffering?

You wonder about your oppositions and similarities in different points of each other’s lives. Minutes, decades before you ever met.

Certain stones shall stay unturned, but you hope, maybe one day, those questions will be answered.

Interestingly enough, he never asked about your name; not even when you gingerly introduced yourself as your last name, a rather awkward fit.

Likewise, you don’t complain. There’s only two of you in the house after all.

A week in, you’re finally introduced to something new.

The Alchemist plans to have you tag along with him to Port Nova, a docking station located on the outskirts of Busan.

Business thrives in ship ports, the sole source of connectivity for a growing country like Korea. Each day, millions of shipments come in from countries you can’t name, so you’re not surprised in the slightest he’s headed there for a transaction.

You are surprised he decided to have you tag along.

Even more so that, as you hop off the transit, hurriedly tailing his left, he veers off a sharp turn, approaching a worn Burlesque Club, glittering sign halfway dangling from its perch on a scarlet red awning.

English letters spell out Nova Burlesque, a few missing letters left astray to the side, electrical bulbs spasming with sporadic lighting on the dusty ground below.

In the daylight, the place appears ordinary, blending in with its crumbling, desolate surroundings.

Although, you have no doubt this place utterly delights in the eve, pink-neon inviting enough to lure unaware foreigners upon first arrival.

“Mr. Lee,” You utter, returned with a short scoff from the man who insisted you refer to him by his name, Minho.

“Where are we going?”

It’s hesitant, unsure of whether to intervene, but Minho only smirks, whispering a not-very-assuring “You’ll see” you begrudgingly go along with.

Inside is the last of what you anticipated.

Oh dear.

You’ve only been to minimal Burlesque Clubs, but the ornery perspective of faux jewelry, a glittery, hallucinatory stage, and the constant rendition of Why Don’t You Do Right whirling on scratchy records isn’t present here.

Alternatively, there’s stools scattered around a marginally illuminated clearing, some upturned, others occupied by burly men with equally burly beards.

And in the middle, a boxing ring is situated. The stench of sweat and blood soaks the air in a metallic, pungent aroma.

A brisk realization crosses your mind, a conclusion of a sort.

Play a fool’s game, earn a fool’s reward.

Only you, Hyunjin, and Ms. Myeong know the lengths you’re willing to go to secure your family's well-being, and now, at odds you can’t compromise, you have to do everything in your power to maintain your act.

This is a test.

Sifting behind you, he murmurs a hushed: “Cover your ears.” That you begrudgingly oblige to, cupping either hand over your ears as Minho clutches his leather holster, concealed within the confines of a frequently worn coat.

In a split second, a gunshot is fired to the ceiling, the bullet's shell casing dropping atop the welt of his pointed shoe.

Stunned silence ensues.

Arm still extending the revolver in the air, you haphazardly remove your hands, dragging the hat further over your face as more eyes focus on the both of you.

“I’m looking for Reiner and Manfred.”

The longer the tension rises, the further you grow self conscious.

“Already?” A man bellows from inside the ring, breaking the awestruck spell whilst gripping his opponent by the collar, fist poised and ready to strike.

Unusually, they seem to know each other.

Minho merely exhales a loud sigh through his nose, practically two times smaller than his apparent acquaintance.

Said acquaintances grumbles.

“Leave it to our champion to interrupt the show.”

And with that, he hooks the contender in the jaw, sending him pummeling down to the tarnished mat where hoards either cheer or groan, hustling money left and right over the victor.

Champion of the show? You’re adding that to your collection of never ending questions that’ll likely stay unanswered.

From the crowd arises two men. The victor from the ring and another from the crowd, dressed lavishly opposed to his white tank top-wearing counterpart.

Reiner and Manfred, you assume.

Serving as a mere shadow in The Alchemist’s wake, the four of you hustle outside, met with a nonplussed Minho and two, mildly confused (and enormously tall) men.

Foreigners, certainly.

“..Care to introduce the pipsqueak?” Reiner presumably more talkative, piques, beady eyes scouring your figure enough to where you scorn the beads of sweat collecting upon your temple.

Pipsqueak my foot.

You stave down the retort, inhabiting Minho’s shadow as the three discuss matters of a hospital transaction. Almost like you weren’t there at all, as it’s always been.

If it weren’t for the technicalities, you would’ve interjected, made your presence known. Except, other than herbal instances, you’re a novice in the business department. You’ll leave that up to your current mentor to arrange.

Again, lips sealed.

Minho, ignorant to the previous victor’s question, continues to sign legal documents supplied by the calmer individual, Manfred. You internally thank the gesture.

Well, before Reiner’s sordid gaze becomes too stifling to brush off.

“I’m Mr. Lee’s apprentice, L/N. Nice to meet you,” You initiate, fearlessly reaching out a hand he heartily shakes, features graced with amusement, massive hand practically engulfing yours.

Pardoning a gruff “Likewise”, he nearly sends you flying from the timbre of his voice alone.

“Say,” Reiner mutters, finally completing the last of the package transfers. “Don’t you think this one seems a bit feminine?”

Your jaw ticks, nervousness shrouding your being like an unrelenting fog. Minho’s fingers close around your elbow, pulling you closer, brows knit.

“Perhaps you need your eyes checked, Reiner,” He offers, tone nonchalant opposed to the vice-like grip latched to your arm.

Heftily chortling, the man only pats your back, causing your entire body to surge forward upon impact.

“Well regardless, it’s a cute little thing ain’t it?”

Manfred simply grunts his acknowledgment while you bite your tongue, coveting your retaliation when he referred to you as “it”.

No use growing angered. The feeling is futile.

Luckily, your irritable arrangement comes to a hasty close, more than gleeful to have an understandably annoyed Minho steer you from Port Nova onto a short train back to Kent Avenue, to your newly established home.

A home, but not really a home. Semi-permanent, unofficial.

Either way, you wouldn’t complain. Despite the constant efforts in diminishing your past identity, you didn’t feel as conscious when around Minho.

Safer.

As if, in an alternative reality, you could tell him. Your truths, your burdens.

No. You won’t jeopardize this opportunity. You can’t.

At least, not yet.

“I’ll be back Mr. Lee!” You shout, wielding a briefcase bag to your person, nudging the ghoulish door open using your hip.

As usual, you’re headed off on a restocking trip.

Except on this occasion, the restocking consists of hunting down a peculiar herb: Chinese Chrysanthemum. It’s an appealing plant with fluorescent leaves and a constant need for sunlight.

It’s no surprise he’s sent you to fetch such goods. After two months, you soared in and out of the residence routinely, scouring Korea while Minho hunched over a wildly diverse array of vials and flasks, glasses propped on his slightly hooked nose, hands firmly resting on a wooden exam table.

Studious. He is very studious.

However, a catch diverts itself from eye view. A catch you hadn’t considered until your two feet stepped from squealing train tracks.

Somehow, although unusually intentional, you wound up in a rather peculiar area. An area you never imagined paying a visit to in your wildest dreams.

In the midst of economic outrage and warring circumstances, you’re standing in one of Korea’s most unstable, informal districts. A place that, according to your overhearing ear, was where your precious Chrysanthemum lodged.

This district had an infamous name.

The Den.

A fitting name in actuality, where a person didn’t realize they were stuck till it was too late, unable to see where they’re going, living in belief there’s an incentive to the finish line in a race run in circles.

Also, a place the Sharks who torment your family report to.

You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears, nearly ricocheting out of your chest with its horrid cacophony.

Calm down.

Calm down. Think of the goal.

All you have to do is find a flower.

Grounding yourself, you pinpoint some viable resources.

Fertile soil, maybe even sandy, likely in the inner portion of The Den.

Plus, you’re dressed as a man, you might as well act outrageously boisterous.

But you’re not, you’re afraid. Perhaps not external, but inside, your lungs feel as if they’re being violently crushed, sinking deeper in an unsteady submersible to the very bottom of the ocean. And for a second, you truly contemplate going back, telling Minho you’re incapable of the task.

Yet, what would you say? You’re haunted by a vision that hasn’t happened? Fearful for a future event with no guarantee? If you had ever done something so horrid, they would’ve found you ages ago.

This time, you’re in their domain, invading what’s theirs as they’ve done to you.

Greater. You aren’t who you used to be, in more ways than one.

Genuinely, what is there to lose?

That’s it. You’ll complete the mission and return. No run-ins, no fear barricading your job.

In and out.

Initially, you scout out your surroundings, regarding the faint sound of voices funneling in the distance, the smell of mixtures you hate being able to identify, far off machinery croaking before smoke spurs from rusted screws and bolts.

Amongst the chatter of street vendors and the many, notorious gang members patrolling in and out of abandoned shops, you roam avidly, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Number one priority is to not be noticed. Drawing attention to yourself is a one way ticket to failure, and the last thing you need is to arrive back to Minho empty-handed.

However, through the blinding clouds of smoke billowing from exhaust pipes, a specific building, shrouded in the shadows of charcoal residue, douses your peripheral.

A Greenhouse.

Bingo.

Quickly looking around, you shrink low to the ground, racing forward to carefully creak open glass double doors and slip inside.

It feels as if you’re enclosed in a furnace. Mere seconds in and sweat already begins gathering upon your temples.

Though that becomes the least of your concerns after assessing what lies inside.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of flowers and herbs. Rare species, some critically endangered, just sitting here.

It’s strange.

Why would, in the case such an abundance existed, not be used? Why hadn’t this Greenhouse been raptured from the inside out for such valuable items?

It’s not until a commotion stirs ahead of you that you understand the answer to the question.

With about five plucked Chinese Chrysanthemums expertly sealed into their coordinating bags, a piercing hiss followed by multiple shouts and hollers cause you to shrink back, gazing around haphazardly.

A hiss?

From your perspective nearly kissing the dirt, your vision allows a minuscule glimpse of multiple backs turned, boisterously amused men gathering around something in the front of the Greenhouse.

You feel the need to know more.

Inching forward tip-toe by tip-toe, amidst the roaring crowd, you spare a look between the sea of legs to find an utterly deplorable sight.

A cat.

No, not just a cat, cat fighting. They’re watching cats maul each other for the fun of it. As if they aren’t living creatures, but toys for their entertainment.

And perhaps it’s a foolish decision, perhaps laughable being worried, being angered, but you are and you refuse to leave knowing you could’ve done something to help them.

Hastily scouring the floors, a can of Spam discarded below Foxglove stems proves useful enough, tossing it as far as possible where it whacks against the glass wall, immediately averting their attention.

This is your chance.

As dark clouds and incoming rain thunder outside, you don’t waste the opportunity, sprinting forward while the men make toward the direction of the sound and hoisting the first cat you see into your arms.

Sprinting past narrow pathways and dimly lit streets, you force your eardrums numb to the threats they call after you, mind trained on one thing besides getting as far as possible from here.

To Minho to Minho to Minho.

A hand grabbing your shoulder causes you to shriek, swiftly dragged off where you swear your last breaths will be taken, the feline in your arms scrambling with panic.

“What are you doing?” Your captor furiously whispers, hidden in the low lighting of an apparent alleyway.

Wait. You recognize that voice.

“Hyunjin?”

How does he recognize you?

Just then does a breeze swipe past your head, sending chills trickling down your rain-soaked neck.

Your hat is gone. Must’ve fell off while you were running.

“Wh.. what are you doing?” Slipping from his grasp after the men’s hushed conversation becomes inaudible, you regard the man with an incredulous stare.

“Answer my question first,” He reprimands, and as the cat resounds a pained meow do you assess the dire nature of the situation.

You need to get this cat to Minho, and fast.

“Can’t- Can’t talk right now I’ve got to go—“

“Wait!”

Though, as your footsteps breach the security of the alley, the placating cry of crows mock your left, hurried footsteps belonging to those occupying the Greenhouse heading toward you in rampant haste.

Hyunjin’s hand holding your wrist, you grace a tight-lipped smile his way.

“Let’s not see each other like this again, okay?”

He returns a miniature grin, teeming with mischief.

“Agreed.”

Upon letting go, you race off, attempting to speedily navigate back to the train station whilst torrents of streaming droplets cascade down your face.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks, I’ll need it!” You respond back, voice permeated against the rain, eyes frantically searching for a place to evade.

Finally, a crowd appears, swarming amongst diners and flickering street lights.

Your perfect hideaway.

Swimming through the hive of people, you catapult yourself into the nearest phone booth in sight, fumbling through deep pockets before cashing a coin into the metal slot and jarring your index over slippery metal numbers.

Praying the combination is correct as you hold the wired telephone to your ear, you’re consumed with utmost relief upon hearing The Alchemist’s voice answer on the other side of the crackling line.

Amidst roaring rainfall drowning the booth, you differentiate shouting a ways off, likely belonging to the men from earlier.

“Mr- Mr. Lee?”

“Yes? Where are you?”

“Are you.. Are you allergic to cats?”

Never in your life did you think you would be so overjoyed seeing blue doors.

Clambering inside—the rather upset cat in your arms hissing their dismay—you’re overwhelmed with an unexplainable happiness seeing Minho’s face peer from the guest room.

Relief.

“L/N wha..”

Words dying in his throat as he gives you a speechless once over, your urge to hug him dissipates instantly, beckoning a new set of garments upon realizing how utterly drenched your precious disguise is.

Simultaneously shoving the cat his way before rushing to your room, you thankfully strip of your fretfully cold attire, welcomed in the comforting embrace of clean clothing.

A mere five minutes later you exit, greeted by Minho’s stockstill frame. Hand half-raised, evidently about to knock.

You forcefully clear your throat, praying the momentary awkward tension is alleviated.

Luckily, The Alchemist takes it upon himself to break the spell, eyes dancing across the floorboards in order to avoid your own.

“Well, she’s stable. Her vitals are fine, nothing too critical apart from a few cuts here and there. Just shaken up.”

Your stare of astonishment earns a confused tip of his head.

“That fast?”

Said (apparently female) cat rubbing her body along your calf with an obviously delighted purr, you appear nearly concussed, crouching down to pat the soft, striped fur lining her back.

Minho snorts.

“What can I say, I get work done.”

Maybe he is a vampire after all.

Mirroring your crouch, he watches your interaction, similarly feline-like inspection unnoticed till glancing up.

And for a swift moment, you swear he saw through you. Lips parted, eyes scrutinizing. Piecing together the building blocks to a wavering structure you’d strived so hard to build, to protect.

No. You’re overthinking. He couldn’t possibly know.

You failed to notice the forlorn look on his face, one that ushers to ask if you’re okay, fetch a hot beverage to warm your evidently cold hands.

“Might I ask how you ended up bringing this one home?”

Leave it to him to take the title as your greatest ally and worst enemy at the same time.

Ah. Right.

“Y’know I was about to get to that-”

You pause, deriding the high pitch of your voice into something more appropriate. He cocks a brow.

“As I was saying, it wasn’t my intention to bring her back, but the place she was trapped at, the place with the men- the plants..”

According to his expression, you’ve grown two heads.

…

“Go on.”

“Look, the place I found the Chrysanthemum was having cat fights. Do you remember hearing about the dog fights in Gangwon? It’s the same thing. We can’t just sit still while they’re torturing innocent animals.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I’m an Alchemist, not a hero,” He sighs, and your hand stalls its petting, face falling while the cat in your lap flicks her tail back and forth expectantly.

He has a point. You got yourself into this, you went into the Greenhouse. It’s not his duty to clean up after your messes, but perhaps you can convince him, even by a small margin.

Play a fools game, earn a fools reward.

You’ll mop the floor of your own mess.

“Minho, please. Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?”

Stifling silence making an additional appearance, you nervously await the verdict, perched rather hilariously outside of your bedroom door.

Chewing the skin of his cheek, he scolds himself for falling so susceptible to you, though you won’t ever know that.

“Fine, but you’d better have a plan.”

Ah. Great.

You don’t.

At dawn’s arrival you’re swept upward, fixing a hasty bout of tea and toast prior to dressing in the privacy of your appreciated quarters.

You don a much-needed hat, hopping aboard the first train of the day with a well-dressed Minho in tow.

Retracing your steps turns out easier than you anticipated, The Alchemist tailing you as you had done him at Port Nova.

Though, just when the task seemed a cake walk, you manage a meager detour, regarding your unimpressed mentor.

“From what I can remember, it’s around here somewhere. But I might be wrong, I stumbled upon it by accident and it looks a bit scary but I think—“

“Stop! Stop- Stop talking. Please.”

You quickly shut your mouth, allowing the man to lead instead till the sight of familiar landmarks becomes a gradual reassurance of your location.

Perhaps now it’s safe to talk.

“Mr. Lee, what did Reiner mean by calling you a champion-“

Shoved against the brick wall, your sentence dies instantly, panickedly glancing in all directions assessing the all too familiar pistol Minho‘s drawn, conspicuous in close proximity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He enunciates, tone unusually gruff whilst scanning your surroundings.

Your face warms an involuntary pink you clamber to ward off, drawn to the sight of his tense jaw and the feather-like arrangement of long lashes, focused on something elsewhere.

Your retort dies not only from his beauty, but upon the familiar Greenhouse coming into view.

“Looks like we found where your little friends are playing.”

Though, as the man begins forward, you grab him by the sleeve.

“Wait! We can’t just waltz in.”

His hand, slipping from the warmth of his pocket, cups your chin, unbearably close to your face to the point you can feel his breath on your nose.

Curse the butterflies.

“Well there’s no need for an introduction, so let’s listen this time, shall we?”

Left at a loss for words either from your slack mouth or the concerning amount of sweat building upon your palms, you don’t argue back, lingering right outside the door, craning to hear voices.

By the sound of it, at least four people are inside at the moment, and the longer you stay out here, the more ample time becomes for additional threats to show up.

As if reading your mind, he slips through the rugged door, gesturing for you to follow while silently navigating through dense, humid underbrush and overgrown foliage.

However, your quiet voyage is quelled when a twig, unbeknownst to the two of you, cracks under the pressure of his foot.

“Shit,” He mutters, cringing back at the immediate quietness that ensued.

The Alchemist curses as well.

Interesting.

Amidst the men bearing closer, Minho turns to you, tone urgent.

“When I get up, you run and free the cats. Don’t look back, just go.”

Nodding hastily, you reacquaint yourself with the area, ensuring a dead set beeline to where the cats were held without interruptions.

Minho, a split second before you can ask a question, whips the gun from his coat pocket, the sound of bullets whipping through the air enough indication it’s time you go.

Finnicking hands make it hard to unscrew the wired cages, surges of adrenaline helping speed up the rescue as you double check every feline has escaped.

Heeding to instruction, you don’t look for The Alchemist, solely driven to freeing the cats and fleeing the scene. No more problems.

Almost an exact replica to your last visit here, a hand drags you off right as you exit the Greenhouse doors, back pressed against his (whom you realized was Minho, not Hyunjin, thanks to the leather gloves) front.

And perhaps from running, perhaps from something else, you can feel his heartbeat, oscillating in a nonstop orchestra that sends your own heart pounding from the confines of your rib cage.

Stifling a shaky inhale you’d held in as the last of the perpetrators scattered elsewhere, you instantly step back, denying every urge to coddle him like a child, fretfully check him for injury.

A certain fondness lay reserved for Lee Minho, a fondness you can’t discern of at the moment.

“C’mon, quick, Soonie might get scared if we’re gone for too long,” He ushers, crashing your tunneling train of thought right off its rails in the process.

“Yeah-“

You stop.

“Soonie?”

“Yeah, Soonie.”

“You named her?”

“..Yes.”

It’s a genuine struggle hiding your laugh.

“I didn’t find you the type to take in cats.”

“Today you’ve been proven wrong, apparently.”

A sort of giddiness you never experienced fills your chest, wishing nothing more than to look back at the man and swoon.

How could you not? He was very much dexterous, and attractive without a doubt, that much was known to anyone who laid eyes on The Alchemist.

Your trek home proved relatively easy, able to skillfully get to the station away from prying eyes and trod along a mixture of gravel and dusty roads without issue.

Silently celebrating your success, you nudge your counterpart's hip, the unimpressed side-eye he grants doing little to dull your happiness.

“Aren’t you an Alchemist? How come you’re oddly good with a gun?”

He clicks his tongue.

“Aren’t you my apprentice? How come you’re getting yourself into trouble when your only instruction was to fetch herbs?”

You conceal a smile he obviously catches, glare failing to quiet your bubbling laughter, his own lips tugging upward.

“It was necessary Mr. Lee! And you know you love Soonie.”

“Unfortunately.”

Nearly a month into her residence, and Soonie has become an effervescent force to be reckoned with. Although initially sassy and wary, she’s transformed into the most affectionate cat you’d ever met.

You have to give it to her, she’s grown on the both of you, a lot.

Plus, you might just have to thank her for unleashing Minho’s tender side, whether that’s the two of them cuddling on the couch while he naps or him picking her up and treating her like a baby while you watch from afar.

Over the course of the five months you’ve been here, you’ve sent countless checks back home—enough to where dues could finally be paid and the hope for a good life came into view.

Everything seems right, seems ideal.

But of course, on an equally ideal Thursday evening, a thousand pounds of bricks drops right on top of your head.

“How long were you planning to keep it from me?��

He, Lee Minho, The Alchemist, voices.

Simultaneously, your stomach plummets to your feet, peeking over your shoulder to find his back facing you, hunched over a straus flask.

Then the bomb drops.

“You being a woman, that is.”

Abruptly pausing, you don’t reply, worried you’d say the wrong thing, unintentionally summon the catalyst to this arising catastrophe.

Yet, you can’t stay quiet for too long. And a fear lingered inside, a fear that if he looked at you, you would break.

“Forever.”

Doing just what you dreaded, he turns to you, wearing a horribly serious expression.

You avoid eye-contact.

“Because you thought I would fire you?”

A nod.

“And that’s why you said that, when you first came to me? That you weren’t a woman asking for a job?”

Another nod.

He sighs, pulling glasses from atop a hooked nose. You remain staring at the floor.

“I don’t decide who to hire based on what they are. If you can do your job and do it well, you’re worthy enough to work.”

Minho spoke softly, the dim, orange lighting of his lamplight doing little to shake how overwhelming the occasion is, how it feels as if your disguise is wearing, thinning to an impossible degree.

Except, your world isn’t ending like you thought it would if someone found out, so why do you feel so heartbroken? So overstimulated with realization?

“How did you..” you trail off, raging tears longing to spill.

No, you can’t afford to cry now. You’ve held out so far, it will stay that way.

Should stay that way.

Minho dips his head lower in order to fully see you in all your lip-chewing, anxiety-ridden glory. The ghost of a smile rests upon his lips.

“It was impossible not to tell. You’re unusually tiny, those shoes are massive, and, um, I do the laundry.”

Watching his once bemused expression dissipate, you mark this as the first time you’ve ever seen him genuinely flustered—and, upon realizing he’d likely seen more than necessary as well, you’re also diminished to a bright red.

The room wilts in stillness before he exhales, stepping a bit closer to where you linger by the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the frame.

Tone minimizing itself terribly gentle, The Alchemist carefully collects your cheeks in his hands, urging you to see him, see those terribly thoughtful brown eyes granting a terribly kind disposition.

“It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

Well, you had held out thus far.

Cracking into pieces, you melt like droplets of honey in his fingertips. He perfectly catches them in the jar.

Out of anyone in this world, you can’t help but be grateful he was the one who found out, found you.

Chest bubbling with breaking sobs, Minho’s thumbs caress your under eyes, swiping away the many salty droplets in their continuous descent.

Own hands shakily reaching up to hold his resting on your face, you stand there, soaking in his wooded, earthy scent and the soft hums he occasionally emits as if a reminder he’s still there, listening to your cries without intent to leave.

“Mr.. Mr. Lee… It was so scary, I’m so tired Mr. Lee,” You hiccup, mentally berating the endlessly freefalling tears, how your once staved emotions reduced your strong, dutiful voice into nothing but a stuttering mess.

Carefully swiping drool from your chin, he leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know why you did it, but I promise it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

Then another kiss to your forehead, staying there until your sniffling and breathing calms.

Gathering yourself if only slightly, you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a warm hug he gradually accepts after a beat of shock.

“Thank you, Minho.”

And just when he thought the shock faded, he’s struck again from the sound of his name leaving your mouth.

Minho.

Mr. Lee had been charming, but Minho, it was different. A good kind of different.

He particularly favored the way it sounded falling off your lips, two syllables he’d replay over and over, savoring each a little bit more than the last.

More so, he wished to substitute his nagging thoughts with you, have you narrate the phrases bouncing inside his skull.

Perhaps then everything wouldn’t be so loud, if he had your voice to nullify the battlefield.

Unfortunately forced to separate, Minho adjusts his tie, clearing his throat in a manner you can’t help but feel nervous about.

You like this flustered Minho.

“I’ll.. I’ll run you a bath.”

You wince at the rawness of your skin when your face wrinkles in a chuckle.

“Do I smell?”

Minho, frantically scrambling for an excuse, rubs his temples, exasperation evident in the grooves of his face, the curve and dip of prominent cheekbones portraying a mature visage.

“No I-“ He grumbles. “It helps calm you down.”

Merely able to halfway staunch your irrevocable glee, you call his name as he begins stepping out, ears an adorable pink.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N. L/N is my last name.”

Not allowing you view of his front-side, you listen to his whispering with delight, testing the newly discovered title on his tongue as if to memorize it.

Ah, you’re falling in love.

Or maybe you’ve already fallen.

Hastily closing the door behind himself and letting you get situated in the bath, it’s not long into your relaxing that you notice a shadow seeping through the door’s crack, a figure standing there, debating.

“Minho?” You announce amusedly, watching the shadow jump and causing you to bite your frothing laugh whilst choosing what to say next.

“Would you like to join me?”

The Alchemist audibly chokes on his saliva outside the door.

Sparing a few seconds for him to collect his oxygen, you hadn’t been prepared for when he replies a quiet: “Another time”.

Your eyebrows shoot up with surprise.

Daring.

Then his shadow, after furious shuffling, disappears, serving as a reminder of your extended time spent bathing.

Assembling the copper drain and pulling foreign nightwear over dampened skin, opposed to your usual rush to your room, you allow the chilling air to grant its harsh greeting, leaving the steamy room in its wake.

No more secrets. What a breath of fresh air.

Minho, still cooped up at his desk like routine, barely moves when you place your hands on his shoulders, adorning those charismatic glasses, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“You should go get some rest Mr– Minho,” You beckon, response a sleepy blink of his eyes, obviously exhausted.

“...I really wanted to kiss you.”

The remark drifting off as a murmur, you crane to hear him, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hm?” Humming, you lightly push his back toward his quarters, the man begrudgingly following your inaudible orders.

At least he’s cooperating.

Abruptly, he turns around, evading your hands that ease his back forward, sporting a pout adorable enough you might just lose your mind.

How unfair that someone could behave like this and expect you to not go insane.

“When you started crying.” His eyes flicker to your lips, if only for a moment. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

A portion of your stock-still frame wants to blame his tiredness, but another so badly wants it to be true, wants those words to be irrevocably real.

Fighting the urge to scream with how stupidly childish he’s making you feel, you reject every ounce of sensibility, looping one arm around his neck, using your other hand’s index to tug him closer by the belt loop.

Trust, the feeling is mutual.

Why waste the opportunity?

“What’s stopping you?”

The utterance barely graces air, and in milliseconds he’s crashing into your lips, a wordless confession it is real, not a mere figment of your imagination.

Stumbling to loosen his tie whilst keeping your faces impossibly connected, you fall deeper and deeper into the manner he tilts his head, expertly diminishing you into puddy in his touch.

Back and forth, memorizing your taste on his tongue.

Clumsy footsteps lead to his sofa, your fingers tangled in his dark strands, his kneading your waist.

And it’s not until your lungs cry for oxygen that you pull apart, Minho’s bottom lip tugged and bitten, yours swollen with his feverish kisses.

Both of you avidly messy, you can’t bring yourself to care, too busy enjoying the afterglow, his dazed smile.

“Whoever you want to save,” He starts, carefully smoothing over your skin with his thumb . “I will save them, deal?”

Returning that same lazy smile he directs at you, the both of you lean back on the couch, a twine of legs and limbs flailing in every direction.

Close, closer.

A part of you aches at the thought, blinking up at such a stunning tragedy. Aches knowing you can’t return the favor, can’t say the same, promise him that same promise.

Because according to the Red Plague, he’s lost that person, those people. So you remain silent, merely hoping one day they’ll receive proper eternal rest.

That's something you might be able to promise.

Tipping your chin up to where it sits right above his heart, those brilliant eyes of yours blinking up at him do little for his well-being.

Has anyone told you you’re beautiful? Because he thinks you are, he knows you are.

Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?

Minho grins deeper, brows creasing, expression doused in unadulterated adoration.

“And yet, you rope me into something else,” He whispers to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s run another bath. I’ll join you this time, hm?”

FIC TAGLIST. @linocz @foxinnie8 @wonniesverse

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yan-rai · 5 months ago

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Thinking of Yandere! Light with an enabler darling.

In order for this to work I think they'd have to meet at childhood, like in primary school or perhaps their parents would've been friends; because that's when kids have the most innocence and not understanding the true nature of the world.

I like to believe that even at a young age, Light would hold a dislike for those who did wrong. After all his father served in the police department, so it wouldn't be unusual to hear cases that are darker. Thus, leading him to mature more quickly than his peers. So imagine when he meets darling who doesn't understand human nature. As in the behavior and actions of a person, Light doesn't know this so he chose to believe darling is extremely sheltered and innocent.

So just imagine how it would be in secondary school, at this point you understood that Light was... more abnormal than the rest of your peers. Such as- Clings on to you, makes others feel inferior compared to you, uses "study sessions" as a way to hang out more, etc. Knowing this, you aren't afraid to use it and manipulate him, of course, he won't notice because how could you do such a thing? In his eyes, it's practically impossible, he's smarter so he would think he'd catch on quick. (He doesn't know you are fairly intelligent yourself...)

And oh boy do you really use that potential once he gets the book. When you find out, you act all shocked, and at first try to tell him he's wrong for killing people and that it's no better. This leaves him a way to think he can control you, he isn't afraid to change your beliefs to fit into his wants. So you act as if you gave in, praising him for removing the evil in the world, feeding into his ego. In fact, you convince him to kill certain people, people who wronged you? People who you just don't simply like? They'd be gone with a brutal death, after all, wouldn't it make them a bad person to hurt someone so innocent?

I want to add more but due to the fact I'm debating whether or not to write this as a one-shot or a series and whether not to include L in the shipping (because why not?) I don't want to reveal anything if it were to become a series. I also don't know if this fandom is dead on tumblr... So uh, if y'all want it comment to let me know your thoughts! (In any case you guys want to see how I write and whether or not you'd like it based on that, I have a csm post and a quotev account that's a Danganronpa fic! It's a Mikan x reader, called "You always forgave me..."!)

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on-leatheredwings · 10 months ago

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House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General.

Helping people recover.

So patients could some day leave.

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops.

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.”

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back.

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still.

“You haven’t improved.”

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning.

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall.

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time.

Fuck.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile.

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people.

Other people. Everyone here is your family.

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly.

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose.

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time.

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn.

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter.

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately.

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care.

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess.

“Bruce,” you croak.

He looks at you, face alight in expectation.

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can.

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.”

“No–”

“Stephanie.”

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever.

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.”

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop.

“Damian.”

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all.

“... Me.”

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat.

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom.

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.”

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #tw gaslighting #bruce wayne #mine

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juustokaku · 1 month ago

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Confidentiality - Chapter 8. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, violence. Dark themes are to be expected. A brief situation of harassment (not by any of the members) in this chapter. A/N: Forgive me for the long wait! I hope the chapter won't be disappointing or incoherent... I like writing this story but my own judgmental thoughts honestly are a kill of joy. I'm happy to receive feedback, be it constructive criticism or positive words. I hope someone will enjoy this <3 Word count: 4 062 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, you held the phone to your ear. The sound of the phone ringing was quiet and stable but it did not lessen your anxiety at all. Eventually it stopped ringing, leaving you in heavy silence.

Jongho hadn’t answered this time either. You had tried to call him at least 20 times in a span of couple days, but it was like he had disappeared from the face of the Earth. Despite being upset at him, you were more worried than you wanted to admit. You also missed him, his stoic nature, and the unexpected moments of sweetness.

Frustrated, you tossed the phone away. Was Jongho so childish and stubborn that he hid from you on purpose after you had kicked him out of your home? Or could he be in danger? You couldn’t help but feel bad for banishing him. That was how he probably wanted you to feel, but there was nothing to do about the feeling.

Spring, the season of hope and new beginnings, was near so the weather was warming up. Still, it was already late in the evening. The nights at that time of the year were still cold, and you grabbed a warm jacket; one that did not attract attention. You feared the possibility that some creep would notice and follow you in the dimly lit streets of the little city you lived in.

Maybe in another life you would have liked walks outside. But this world was evil. If you already hated being outside even in the daylight, when the moon rose on the sky, your senses were heightened to a maximum.

The walk to Jongho’s place wasn’t practically that long despite it being on a completely different area of the city. He actually lived in a house instead of a crappy, crampy apartment like you did.

You were always astonished by his house. It was of an appropriate size but screamed how rich he was. A slightly annoyed huff fell from your lips as you thought about how he had said you couldn’t go ice skating for it being too expensive. Dude lived in the most prestigious area of the city but complained about the cost of ice skating. The memory made you smile nonetheless.

There was a gate separating his yard and house from the street. You rang the doorbell on it, wishing sincerely he’d let you in or at least talk to you.

The weather wasn’t windy but you still felt cold. Maybe Jongho would see you shivering and let you in out of pity. That is if he was even alive anymore.

The house stood dark and tall in front of you, and the only thing separating you from Jongho was the gate. Your heart clenched at the unbearable thought of having lost him forever. Losing his friendship felt even harder knowing that you had never had much friends in the first place.

After 10 minutes, you walked away from the house, steps heavy with disappointment. You had driven Jongho away with your anger. It was difficult to remember in that moment that your anger had been completely justified. You just wanted to see Jongho again.

As if the situation hadn’t been depressing enough already, small, cool drops of water fell on your skin. Even the sky was crying with you.

You kept walking, bravely telling yourself that you didn’t care about the rain turning into a downpour. But eventually, it started bothering you too much. It was cold, wet and dark, and you felt yourself getting frustrated.

You found a shelter next to a small grocery store that was nearing its closing hours. Sure, it would have been wiser to go inside the store to warm up for a moment, but you were just going to stay in the shelter for a moment for the rain to stop.

Some people walked past you out of the store occasionally but you were too deep in your thoughts to pay attention to it. Then a voice of a man clearly talking to you snapped you out of it.

“Waiting for the rain to stop, huh?”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the man quickly, not wanting to give him too much attention.

Noticing that the middle-aged man was dressed up in dirty clothes and reeked of alcohol made you already uneasy. But the look in his dazed eyes was more concerning; he eyed you up and down, and smiled at you. It was not a kind nor inviting smile. It was a predatory smile flashed at you with yellow teeth.

“I can wait with you so you won’t be lonely.”

You felt your heartrate speed up. There was no way that man had good intentions with the way he shifted closer to you.

“Thanks, but there’s no need to... Your groceries should be taken to your fridge quickly before they get bad.”

Your attempt to politely refuse his offer didn’t work.

“Oh, sweet girl. Don’t worry, I don’t have any purchases that need immediate care,” the man grinned and moved closer once again to show the contents of his plastic bag.

It didn’t surprise you to find the bag was filled with beer bottles. You had to come up with a new excuse.

“What about your wife? She’s surely waiting for you already.”

“Hm? You’re prettier than her. Not so wrinkly and not always nagging about my drinking.”

You felt disgusted on so many levels; the man had no right to talk that way about his wife when he looked like a malformed abomination of a rat that had escaped from the sewers. Hell, no man should talk about their own wife like that, no matter the looks.

“A pretty girl like you deserves a man like me. Young men nowadays are so feminine and sensitive,” the man smirked arrogantly, “A true man knows his own power and how to use it to his advantage.”

Your hand slipped inside your pocket. It was not for warmth but for reaching the pepper spray. Everyone used to laugh at you for carrying that because you’d probably never have to use it. But you’d have the last laugh.

“What are you hiding in your pockets?” the man’s eyes were directed at your hands, a deep frown settling on his face.

“J-Just warming up my hands.”

“Bullshit. Are you trying to call the police on me?”

If you were afraid before, now you were definitely terrified. How could you even use the pepper spray when your hands were trembling in fear?

“You stupid bitch. What did I even do? Women don’t appreciate compliments these days anymore!” the man shouted angrily, and instead of standing lazily like before, he turned his body wholly towards you.

You couldn’t freeze in that moment. No way in hell were you going to let that man touch you.

But as you were about to pull the pepper spray from your pocket, a familiar voice caught both your and the man’s attention.

“Step away from her.”

Your head snapped into the direction of the voice, and you noticed; Yunho stood there, firm and commanding. For the first time in your life, you saw him in a good light. The long coat he wore could have been a superhero cloak, that’s how grateful you were.

“Who are you to command me like that?” the drunkard scoffed at Yunho.

But as Yunho walked closer, the man seemingly realized how much taller Yunho was, how much at disadvantage the man was.

“I’m telling you one last time to step away and leave immediately.”

“Pfft. What are you? A policeman?” the man attempted to assert dominance and show off his fragile masculinity.

“In fact, I am. Although I’m off-duty, I have a couple weapons with me,” Yunho said, clearly not intimidated at all, “I won’t shoot you but I can guarantee that getting tazed doesn’t feel pleasant either.”

To emphasize his words, Yunho pulled out a taser and swung it in his hands. The other man’s defiant expression morphed into a pathetic look of fear.

“Sorry, man. I’ll go,” the man rushed away like there was a tail between his legs.

You looked at Yunho with admiration. Even the guilt for doubting his intentions and nature before didn’t shake your mind at that moment; you just needed desperately to show your appreciation for him.

Still, the best you could do was look at Yunho with wide eyes and utter a few words.

“Thank you.”

Yunho smiled, looking almost giddy when you talked to him, “I just did my duty.”

“Your duty as a policeman?”

“Yes, but mostly my duty as your personal protector.”

A little giggle left your lips at Yunho’s comment. There was a warm feeling of gratitude in your chest. Yunho had never been a bad man after all although acting quite weirdly occasionally.

“I’m more than just grateful. You saved me from a dangerous situation.”

Yunho’s cheeks flushed and an adorable, sheepish smile spread on his lips. Having been always suspicious of him, you hadn’t realized before how sweet he looked every time you talked to him.

“Let me walk you home. You must be scared after meeting that creep,” Yunho extended his hand out for you. In his other hand he held an umbrella which had a Spiderman print.

What was the worst thing that could happen if you took his hand in yours?

You felt like the company of a man who had proven his good intentions would bring you safety on your way home. You grabbed Yunho’s large hand in yours, feeling comforted yet a little nervous.

“So, you like Spiderman?”

Yunho chuckled at your question. He seemed overjoyed to walk hand-in-hand with you even though it was raining cats and dogs.

“He’s what I want to become. A hero.”

You smiled softly and couldn’t resist the temptation to say something corny, “You’re already my hero.”

Yunho laughed heartily and glanced at you. His eyes were twinkling, replacing the stars that couldn’t be seen that night due to the clouded sky.

“What are you doing out this late anyways?” he inquired.

The air felt a little colder again as your thoughts wandered to Jongho.

“Jongho has disappeared. I’ve tried to contact him but there’s no answer,” you revealed, “I went to his house tonight in hopes of finding him there, but it’s like he’s avoiding me.”

Something flickered in Yunho’s eyes for a split second before a thoughtful look set on his face. He squeezed your hand a little.

“That must be rough. He’s your boyfriend after all.”

“Well, not anymore. There was an incident that led to me breaking up with him,” you muttered.

The man next to you nodded and spoke again, “I can help you find him. I’m a policeman, you know? We may not have enough reason to report him as missing, but I have my knowledge of finding missing people as my offer.”

Yunho’s hand may have been warm but the smile on his face was even warmer; it comforted you.

When the two of you eventually stood at your doorstep, Yunho’s reluctance to let go of your hand was clear. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay? The man must have scared you badly.”

You let go of Yunho’s hand to pull the pepper spray out of your pocket.

“You’re my favorite hero but this one will come in handy sometimes too,” you chuckled.

Yunho smiled, “Just call me whenever you need help with anything. And I mean anything.”

You offered your phone for Yunho to type in his number. Suddenly, he frowned.

“Why is your home screen wallpaper a picture of you and Yeosang?” he asked, voice a few degrees colder than before.

It was strange to see that sweet man get so worked up over a simple picture.

“Yeosang is practically my only friend. I like to have a reminder of that now I have someone to rely on.”

The embarrassment in your voice was clear as you were forced to explain your sad situation of friendships. At least Yunho’s expression softened.

“I’ll be your friend from now on. Make sure to spend time with me... and change that wallpaper,” Yunho spoke.

The next week Jongho wasn’t at the group therapy meeting. Just like the week before, he was gone, leaving you worried. But at least now you had someone who would be able to help search for him.

The room felt so empty without him but no-one else seemed to care.

Charlotte didn’t even question Jongho’s absence that time, just moving straight to the activities of the day.

“Find yourself a pair,” Charlotte guided with a mysterious smile, “I won’t tell you what the activity is yet.”

Wooyoung and San paired up immediately, and Seonghwa and Hongjoong glanced at each other in agreement. They had found their cliques, the person who they got along with the best. It was beyond your understanding though how someone as sweet as Seonghwa could like Hongjoong.

You didn’t even have time to get up from your seat when Yunho had appeared in front of you like out of thin air. You felt a little intimidated and small while he stood over you, but the fear you used to feel around him was gone. He was just a gentle giant, the hero who had saved you from a situation that could have escalated.

“Be my pair,” Yunho requested.

His request was tempting but there was someone else standing a little farther away, looking at you longingly; it was Yeosang.

“I think Yeosang wants-”

“Please,” Yunho said, voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You didn’t want to betray Yeosang but Yunho’s sad look tugged at your heartstrings. It didn’t take too long for you to give an apologetic look to Yeosang and a nod for Yunho.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yeosang walk over to Mingi and pair up with him. You’d apologize to Yeosang later.

Yunho sat down next to you, his long legs brushing against yours briefly. Now that he was sitting next to you just like the first time you met, he seemed satisfied.

“The topic of today is relationships to other people. Discuss with your partner about the person who has the most meaning in your life right at this moment,” Charlotte revealed the task.

That was the hardest topic for you so far. There had never been much people to start with who would have cared about you as you cared about them. It was a curse to love but to be unable to be loved. Sometimes you wished upon the stars that you could stop caring about people. However, no matter how much you cried after lost friends, the universe just brought more people to lose into your life.

Maybe that’s why Jongho’s disappearance bothered you so much. Losing another friend was expected but the way he had completely vanished was slowly breaking you apart. You couldn’t help but blame yourself. It had been completely justified to kick him out of your apartment that day he threw the plate on Yeosang’s face; you shouldn’t feel ashamed.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Yunho’s voice brought you back on Earth, saving you from your drowning thoughts.

You might have lost Jongho’s friendship but you gained Yunho’s. It was just the matter of time when you’d mess up that situation as well.

“I’m okay. I was just thinking what to talk about in this topic,” your smile was weak yet reassuring enough.

“If it helps you, I can go first,” Yunho suggested.

At your nod, Yunho began to talk about the person who meant the most to him. His eyes practically shined like he was passionate about the chance to finally tell you about the love of his life.

“There’s a woman who stole my heart a couple years ago. I haven’t been able to think about anyone else after she caught my attention.”

It was honestly adorable to hear Yunho ramble about the woman. A hint of jealousy gnawed at your insides; for someone to love you like Yunho loved the woman was a dream.

“The way she walked out of the police station, the way she talked to the other officers, scared and needing help... It made me realize the meaning of my life isn’t to protect all the people. It’s to protect her.”

Yunho was clearly devoted. His words were sweet at first. The way he talked about her was a clear indication of how much she had affected his life. But suddenly his words took a slightly darker turn.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy in my arms. It doesn’t matter if I have to burn her house or the whole world as long as she runs to me for safety,” Yunho spoke, his voice loving, the complete opposite of his words.

“Wow, she’s one lucky girl,” you chuckled nervously.

Surely Yunho must have meant it as a joke. He was a man of justice, not an arsonist.

“She’s my lucky girl,” Yunho smiled softly at you, “So, who is the person you hold dear to your heart?”

You still hadn’t come up with a good answer. The only friends you had in that moment were Yeosang and Yunho, but you knew neither of them well enough. Jongho had grown quite close with you, at least you liked to think so, but he was gone now.

“I don’t really have people who are close to me,” you admitted reluctantly, feeling unsure if you should tell these kinds of things.

“Just say anyone.”

“Well, I think Yeosang is the closest to me right now.”

Yunho’s encouraging smile turned into a frown. It baffled you; there was always a chance that you could be the woman Yunho loved, but he had mentioned having met her a couple years ago already.

“Yeosang? Why him?”

“I think he’s kind to me, and we’ve hung out a lot.”

Your murmured explanation didn’t satisfy Yunho. It was obvious how hard he tried to control his facial expressions, to hide how upset he was.

“Haven’t I been kind to you?” Yunho inquired.

“Yes, you have but-”

“Did you change your wallpaper yet?”

“I-I forgot,” as soon as you answered, Yunho grabbed your purse and started going through the contents of it.

Your eyes widened as he took the matter of changing your wallpaper into his own hands. He was rummaging through your little bag, and you couldn’t let that happen. A woman’s purse was a private thing, especially when that woman was slightly paranoid at the excuse of valued safety.

“Hey! Give it back,” you reached for your purse.

Yunho didn’t care and kept taking things out of it, letting them fall to the floor. Some makeup, a hairbrush and wallet were already in everyone’s sight.

“Yunho, give Y/N her bag back, please,” Charlotte finally tried to stop the situation but her spineless words meant nothing to Yunho.

You tried desperately to gather your things before anything too personal would be revealed, but Yunho just kept throwing things out.

“What is this?” Wooyoung grabbed an object from the floor, inspecting it in his hand.

Your face heated up at the sight of Wooyoung holding something private. Gazing at him angrily from the floor, you were about to demand him to give it back.

“That’s a woman diaper!” Mingi exclaimed, shocked at the unbelievable, astonishing, mind-blowing sight of a menstrual pad.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. All your stuff on the floor for everyone to see and judge, and now Wooyoung and Mingi had humiliated you with their discovery.

“No, Mingi. That is called a menstrual pad,” Charlotte spoke softly like talking to a child.

You wished Jongho was there to knock some sense into everyone. Most likely, he wouldn’t have even done that, but you liked to believe he would have defended your honor. The honor that went down the drain like your appreciation and respect for Yunho.

San snatched the pad from Wooyoung’s hands, clearly frustrated. With no hesitation he walked to you and kneeled down on your level.

“Let me help you,” he said quietly and gave you the pad.

It was just a mere hygiene product, but to you, it felt like he was giving the prettiest flower bouquet ever. In your moment of helplessness, he had wanted to help you.

San started gathering the objects from the floor to their rightful place, your purse. His lips were pressed tightly together like he was feeling annoyed.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” you spoke quietly, feeling exhausted because of the emotional rollercoaster.

“I want to help,” he looked up a little to give you a gentle smile, “What kind of a person would I be if I didn’t?”

“Apparently the kind everyone else is.”

San chuckled at your bitter mumble. You could see he was holding back his own irritation to calm you down.

Soon, Yeosang joined in to help you and San. You were grateful for those two; the only people in the room you respected. Seonghwa had the potential to be one of those as well, but his friendship with Hongjoong made you mentally avoid him.

Once all your belongings were back in the purse, you turned to Yunho. It was hard to be angry at people whether you knew them well or not; if you knew someone well, you were afraid they’d leave you and if you didn’t know them well, you were afraid they’d be violent. That’s why expressing your feelings of hurt felt dangerous.

You snatched your phone away from Yunho. Surprisingly, the wallpaper hadn’t been changed.

“Why is the wallpaper still the same?” you were gritting your teeth as you spoke.

“I couldn’t unlock your phone,” Yunho’s expression turned guilty, “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Save it. I’m going home.”

You had gone through that terrible moment just for Yunho to not even change your wallpaper. Sure, you should have been glad he couldn’t unlock your phone, but it felt somehow so futile.

As you rid the bus home, you couldn’t help but think; the group therapy didn’t feel helpful or healing at all. You had found Yeosang and Jongho through it, but at what cost? One of the members was a stalker for God’s sake.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t noticed much signs of the stalker in the near days. Would it have been naive to think that fake dating Jongho could have scared him away? Probably yes.

You got off the bus and started making your way back to home. Usually, it was darker at that time of the day, but the seasons were changing. You wished you could change too. You wished you could put an end to your sickness and struggles, to live a normal life, so you wouldn’t have to deal with the sickos at the group therapy.

Maybe it was time to stop going to the therapy. You’d rather live without the social assistance of the government than step inside the nightmarish room of armchairs and supposedly therapeutic talk again.

As you arrived at your door, you reached into your purse like you did every day. A twinge of panic twitched inside your chest as you couldn’t find your keys. They were most likely just deeper inside the purse, and you’d have to look again.

But no matter how much you searched, the keys weren’t there in your purse, jingling like they always did. There was no sight of them even when you emptied the whole purse.

You were positive you, Yeosang, and San had picked up all the objects from the floor. All your other belongings were with you but the keys were gone. It would have been more pleasant if the damn pad had been left behind, but now you were denied the access to your own apartment.

It was possible that someone took your keys when they were still on the floor.

But now the most important thing was to find a place you could sleep at. You didn’t trust your neighbors and you couldn’t afford a hotel room. After some thinking you realized your only option was to beg Yeosang to let you sleep in his apartment. Such a splendid idea to have a sleepover with a man you met in a therapy group for mentally ill. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <- Chapter 7. Chapter 9. -> Masterlist ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist: @devilzliaison @lover-with-dolar-sign-is-a-loser @passerbyforfun @gigikubolong29 @peqchplvto

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porcelainseashore · 10 months ago

Text

To Neighbors and New Beginnings

Pairing: Retired! Older! Leon Kennedy x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon’s getting on in years and finally retired. But that doesn’t mean he’s slowing down in terms of enjoying life. When you moved in next door, little did you realize what you had bargained for.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Post-Resident Evil: Death Island, age gap (Leon in his 60s, Reader in her 30s), strangers to lovers, swearing, bad humor, teasing, flirting, awkward tension, slow burn, romance, fluff, suggestive themes, mild smut.

Authors' Note: Inspired by this older Leon Kennedy pic, we started with a drabble that of course turned into a full length one-shot about our favorite agent, who’s aged like fine wine. This is a writing collab between AliBelleRosetta / @alibellerosetta and me, which we did for fun!

AO3 Link

There comes a time when an agent needs to retire, and Leon was no exception. When he started pushing mid-60s, there wasn’t much else he could do, save for having his brains picked for knowledge on B.O.W. behavior and countertactics. Even that was slowly dwindling as new virus strains and procedures developed. It reached a point where an agreement was made for him to be called in on a consulting basis, but for the most part of his retirement life, he was free to do as he pleased, within limits.

After all the horrors he had witnessed, he was more than happy to opt for the simple life. He finally had enough time on his hands to care for a pet. So, he pounced at the opportunity and got himself a retired police dog, settling down together with him in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, in the middle of nowhere, doing fuck all. At least for the moment. Until you came along. You sweet, young thing, you.

You were half his age, but all is fair in love and war when both of you were consenting adults. You’d recently moved in next door to him, after the previous owners had decided to sell off their house in favor of acquiring a smaller, more manageable place. What was a young lady like yourself doing here? he often wondered. You were an enigma, just like he was to you.

It began with him going about his daily routine of yawning and stretching his weary limbs, as he trudged out sluggishly, in nothing more than a pair of shorts and flip-flops, to get the morning paper from his mailbox, dog trailing behind. Slamming the lid shut after he had fished the paper out of the box and flicked it open, he spotted you from the corner of his eye, just as his dog lifted his leg to mark his territory on the stand.

You were standing by your kitchen window, biting the bottom of your lip, oblivious to the tap left running, as you peered at him intently. It seemed as if you were even unaware that he had caught you staring, since you made no attempt to cover it up. He smirked to himself before nonchalantly heading back to his house. It gave him a boost of confidence knowing that he still remained spry as ever. So what if his hair, once golden blonde and a source of pride, was now a sea of white? So what if he sported a couple of wrinkles and liver spots? He sure as hell hadn’t lost his touch yet.

A couple of days later, when the weather was good, he pulled up a deckchair on the front lawn, in direct line of sight of your bedroom window. The sound of your hair dryer turning on tipped him off that you were in. He proceeded to sunbathe on the chair topless, his newspaper in hand, without a care in the world. His dog made his rounds along the lawn, frolicking in the grass, as various passers-by greeted Leon cordially.

“Mr. Kennedy.”

He nodded at them politely.

A moment later, he heard the shutters of a window opening. He didn’t even have to turn in your direction to know that you were leaning out, pretending to take in the glow of the noon sun as you traced the outline of his muscles with your eyes. He flipped a page and chuckled. Oh, what was he going to do with you?

Well, the grass was getting taller and more unruly. That wouldn’t do. It was time for him to whip out the big guns. He picked a Sunday afternoon, when people were usually lazy and lounged around at home. Gripping the mower’s handle with one hand, he pulled the starter cord a couple of times, until the engine revved to life.

Its loud, whirring sound caused you to poke your head out of your window. He caught your gaze then, giving you a cocky wink. A scarlet blush spread across your cheeks as you waved back at him, trying to appear friendly. Shaking his head with a grin, he got to work, methodically pushing the mower across the lush, green expanse of his front lawn. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and pooled at his neck. It was time for a short break.

Peeling his drenched, white t-shirt over his head, he used it to wipe the sweat away, dabbing at his chest and underarms, before slinging it over his shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on the scene before you, as you rested your chin in the cradle of your hands, staring dreamily at him again from the window. He flexed his upper body slightly, just enough to give you a teaser of what was to come. That snapped you out of your reverie, as you cleared your throat and busied yourself with something in the kitchen. He couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

Soon, he saw you walking over with an icy cold drink in your hand. You stuck it out in front of him like a peace offering.

“Lemonade?” You seemed uncertain and shy.

“Sure.” He nodded and smiled, accepting it graciously.

A tingle ran through your veins where his fingers brushed against yours when he took the glass from you. His piercing blue eyes held your gaze as he gulped down the refreshment, though the last bits of it spilled from his mouth down to his chest.

“Oops.” He shrugged unapologetically. “Can’t let it go to waste, can I?”

Dragging his finger along the wet parts of his chest, he gathered what remained of the liquid and placed it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“Mmm,” he murmured softly. “Tastes good.”

The crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, as he watched you sputter and cough in response.

“Excuse me.” A crimson wave had washed over your face, as you pat your chest furiously. “Choked on my saliva.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

He eyed you again intensely, motioning to your other hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, uh, sunblock?” You pointed at the reddened skin on his back. “I thought you might-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he interrupted, presenting his back towards you, as he waited patiently for you to make a move.

Sweetheart? You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you had misheard what he said. Shakily, you squeezed out a creamy, white blob of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before slathering it over his back gingerly.

You gasped in surprise, as you felt the toned muscles of his back beneath your hands. This was way better in-person. He must work out a lot, you thought. A lot more than someone of his age.

However, it didn’t take long for you to notice the multitude of scars scattered across his back. As you caressed the raised bumps and faded indents, you wondered what kind of life he had led back in the day. Was he a military man? A war veteran? Or maybe he just got into a lot of fights?

Apparently, you must have a magic touch, because Leon started to treat it as if you were giving him a full-body massage.

“Yeah,” he grunted, as you ran your hands over his taut shoulders. “Right there…”

Your task was to simply ensure he didn't get any more sunburned than he already was, but the poor man was so tight all over, you felt sorry for him. So, you got a little carried away and pressed hard against a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back.

He tilted his head back involuntarily and let out a loud, pornographic moan.

“Mr. Kennedy?” you squeaked, concerned if you went too far.

“Please, just call me Leon.” He flashed a boyish smile that revealed a glimpse into how he might have appeared in his younger days. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response, his praise getting the better of you and causing a pool of arousal to form between your legs. All at once, you’d forgotten where to place your hands, what to say, and what exactly were you doing, flirting with your older neighbor so shamelessly out in the open?

A cold shower was definitely on the agenda after this. If DILFs existed, what would you call even older men who were this fuckable again? GILFs? You shuddered, feeling dirty for all the obscene thoughts swimming through your mind.

“Um, well, I guess that’s done!” you chirped out rather overenthusiastically, as you pulled away from him.

There was a slight pout on his face, though he was quick to mask it with a courteous smile. “Shame,” he commented lightheartedly. “Was enjoying it.”

A little too much, you snickered internally, as you made your way back to your house

━━━━━━━━━━━

As he stood staring out of his living room window, he pondered his next move. Despite your previous hasty retreat, you had taken to discreetly watching him work with not just a small amount of eagerness, and he was more than happy to oblige your ogling. After all, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman staring after them?

You were a curious one in his eyes, a blend of boldness as you approached him and shyness the moment you got your anticipated reward. It was a fun game he was more than happy to play with you.

Today wasn't going to be any different.

Once again, the sun hung high with not a cloud in sight, perfect to work outside on some much needed errands, but with your notable attention on him lately, the to-do list had taken quite a hit. His ideas were wearing thin, but one thought stuck out, especially with how keen you seemed to be watching him work the lawnmower. Maybe something on a larger scale would be within your interests.

With a smirk and a listen out for the quiet clangs coming from your kitchen to let him know you were home, he dropped the empty coffee cup down in his sink and headed over to snatch up his long neglected key to get on with the job at hand. The sturdy garage door opened with a series of loud clanks, the inside admittedly dusty with neglect. There in the middle stood his pride and joy. The motorcycle was an older model, but also the only one to withstand his youthful recklessness.

It’s long overdue for a tune up, he thought, grasping the handlebars as he pushed the bike out of the garage. He let it come to a rest slightly out on the driveway as he decided to give it a check over and wash it down, sneakily just in the eyeline of your window but not enough for you to see much. The bike itself admittedly didn’t get ridden as much as it should, but if he guessed right, maybe it would someday soon.

You had heard the noise of his garage door open only for curiosity to get the better of you, cracking open the window to try to get a peek of what your neighbor was up to now. It was like something had come over you, and every time he made an appearance, you couldn’t help but watch after him. You saw he was there outside briefly before heading back into his house and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water.

When he glanced at your kitchen upon his return, he chuckled to himself as he dropped the bucket down, sloshing some of the water across his drive. Apparently his idea had already started to work a treat, having grabbed your attention. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, as the motorcycle roared to life, the battery still able to kick in despite its disuse. The sound of the engine was distinct, much different from the mower previously, and he knew it was sure to pique your interest even further with what a curious thing you were. The shuffling from your kitchen as the window cracked open a little more was enough to tell him that he once again had your attention. Without a care in the world other than checking his bike and giving you a show, he dropped down on one knee, ignoring the tightening feeling in his joints. His knees weren't what they used to be after too many B.O.W. fights.

From your hung back viewpoint, you couldn’t see much, but the noise from outside drew your focus fiercely and you couldn't help but try to get a better look. No matter how much you stood on your tiptoes and reached close to the window, he was just about covered from your spot where you could only make out his unfortunately clothed back, hiding his mysterious antics for once. The way he was acting was odd, as usually he was more open with his activities. You tried to tell yourself that you should walk away and leave him to it, but it was like a desperate urge that needed to be quenched.

While his dog ran off into the yard to chase a wandering squirrel, he moved on to checking the bike over, not one to half-ass his task even if there were other motives. A quick examination of the moving parts and pivot points for signs of wear and tear came back fine, as well as inspecting for any leakage that disuse could have caused. The job was a lot messier than he remembered, with the oil gathering around the edges of the chassis coating his hands and part of his top.

The sudden barking of his dog nearby alerted him to a presence on the property, a smirk creeping up knowingly that your interest had once again gotten the better of you. You just stood there next to him staring him down, checking out his arm muscles that were left uncovered by the loose gray tank he wore, the words of your friends running through your mind as they egged you on to get closer to him. He had been working hard, and you noticed with a flush that some of the oil had smudged up his forearms and along his taught biceps.

He was tempted to chuckle at just how predictable you were becoming, knowing before he turned to look your way that you would be gazing over him with that distinct look in your eyes. It was no surprise to him at all that he was correct, finding you standing there with your shadow cast over him, and your arms wrapped around yourself, transfixed. He was seriously wondering if you didn’t know you were staring at him that way, or if you just didn’t care to hide it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you found your eyes suddenly catching his, quickly darting away from his bright blue ones and to the motorcycle he was working on. “Oh wow, didn't know you had a bike.”

“This old girl? Been with me for years,” he said as his large hand patted the hard seat in front of him. He then used the seat as a brace to stand up, stretching out the stiff muscles that had begun to seize up from his crouched position while also putting his body on full display for your eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself as you watched him riveted, taking in the way he flexed and moved as you felt a blush flash across your cheeks again. You had to cough to clear your throat as you tore your eyes away from him. “Haven't seen you ride it.”

“Not much of a chance to lately.”

You bit your cheek at the thought of him on it, and of you wrapped around his firm back while he rode it. No matter what, your mind kept going back to him, reliving the sensation of his skin under your hands when you had put lotion on his body, desperate to touch-

“I need to wash.”

“What?” you yelped, startled out of your wandering thoughts which snapped to his oil-covered arms and hands, eyeing them up and instantly imagining them instead coated in lather and foam as water streaked down them. You wouldn't have minded being the one to wash that oil off of his skin if it meant running your hands all over him again, a thought you were coming to accept was fueled by nothing but pure lust.

“The bike. It's filthy,” he clarified with an amused chuckle, leaving you feeling hot, embarrassed and completely disappointed. Of course he meant the bike, you scolded yourself, suddenly flushing more with humiliation than arousal.

Unexpectedly, he moved to bend down right in front of you, the tank he was wearing gaping open enough with the movement for you to look down the front of it and at his solid chest partially hidden underneath. “Oh,” you sighed out as you bit your tongue hard in an effort not to say more, his head becoming dangerously close to your crotch, and if he just shifted over a little more…

His rough hand reached into the bucket next to you to grab the sponge floating on top, his eyes moving to catch yours as he shot you a downright dangerous smirk. As he stood back up straight, he rang the sponge out to remove the excess water, the soapy suds flying everywhere around the pair of you. You noticed that the foam coated his tank and turned it translucent in the sun as it clung tightly to his body and left trails of droplets over his uncovered skin. All you could do was swallow hard and drag your eyes off of him, a task that was more monumental than you thought it would be.

With a casualness about him, he set the sponge down on the seat of the bike suddenly, asking you, “Wanna go for a ride sometime?”

You were caught by surprise, mind instantly faltering at the evocative question. There was no way he meant anything other than a ride on his motorcycle, right? you thought. After all, he was just a friendly older man, not some hormone riddled teen chatting up the first woman he laid eyes on. It was you that had the dirty mind. “I, um, maybe? I don't have much experience with them,” you said, answering his question as best you could ramble out.

His eyebrow quirked at your answer, his voice deepening slightly as he replied, “Hmm, never thought that would be the case. I don't mind teaching you a few things, sweetheart.”

You just laughed off his words, thinking the suggestiveness was still all on you. “I've never even been on a bike.”

“Who said I was talking about my bike?”

Your breath instantly hitched at the implication, your eyes darting between his mirth filled ones only to drift lower and catch onto his lips. They looked soft, warm, highlighted on each side by deepened laughter lines that you never would’ve thought could look so good on a man. But as they say, when men get older they age like fine wine. If that was the case, he would be a Cabernet Sauvignon aged to perfection. And you were parched.

It didn’t surprise you at all that when you found yourself shifting closer to him, you chose to embrace it, craving to feel the lips of the man you had spent too much time lately thinking about, only to become emboldened as he seemed to move in too. Your lips were mere inches apart, the heat of desire desperately running through you at the anticipated touch.

All that came crashing down the moment his dog streaked past you chasing that damn squirrel, sending the bucket of water flying and splashing water across you both, cooling down your racing pulse and burning libido. Alarmed, you quickly backed away from him, down his drive, as the implications of what you almost did crashed down upon you. All you could do was mutter some kind of excuse and beat a hasty retreat, wondering how you would ever be able to look your neighbor in the eye the next time you saw him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As Leon watched the scene unfold in front of him, there wasn’t much else he could do. You were a slippery one, like a mouse that had been spooked and scurried off. The one that got away. He placed his hands on his hips, arms akimbo as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Rein it in, Kennedy. What were you thinking?

He really should find better things to do than to chase a pretty little thing like you. You probably had a bunch of younger men waiting in line, he noted self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound and a light flickered on the ground at his feet. Your phone. It must have slipped out of your pocket in your rush to get away. Picking it up, his eyes darted towards the message notification on the screen that piqued his curiosity. It seemed to come from a group chat entitled ‘All The Single Ladies’.

‘Raaarrr, is that the literal definition of a silver fox or what?’

Silver fox? Did they mean what he was thinking? He began to second-guess himself.

The next notification popped up only seconds after, filled with thirsty-looking emojis followed by another text.

‘Damn gurl, your neighbor is hot af! You better tap that or I will!’

More strings of notifications chimed in, as the phone vibrated constantly.

‘GILF alert!’

‘I wanna blow him so hard he’ll…’

At that, he put the phone down and stopped reading, already having figured out your spiel and not wanting to intrude any further into your privacy. A wry smile formed across his face. Not only had you been speaking with your friends about him, you’d even sent them a sneaky picture you’d snapped of him to gawk at.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he was back in the game again. Guess he’d better clean up and use the perfect excuse of returning your phone back to you to have a chat.

Meanwhile at your place, you’d managed to calm your nerves with a cold shower and a pot of floral tea. That was so stupid! you screamed at yourself internally, not daring to look in the direction of the window any longer.

Before you had a chance to ponder upon your recent actions any longer, your stomach growled audibly. Glancing up at the clock, you were astonished to find that the hours had just sped by unnoticed. It was already time to start cooking dinner. You had a whole chicken and potatoes to roast, as well as the vegetables, herb butter and sauce to prepare.

Your friends were supposed to have joined you today for the meal, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances had kept them preoccupied, and your dinner gathering had been delayed to another weekend. Still, you were determined not to let that get in the way of your enjoyment, so you decided to go ahead with the same meal plan anyway.

If only today’s events had gone differently with a certain neighbor of yours. You sighed dejectedly and pressed a palm against your face. Though that sparked off a reminder that you hadn’t checked your phone for any messages for a while. Where was it?

You scrambled around, digging through your pockets and your purse to find the device, but came back empty-handed. A blinding panic began to set in. Oh god no. You didn’t leave it at Leon’s by accident, did you?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling you and causing you to jump to your feet. You sprinted towards the door, swinging it open, only to come face-to-face with the man who had been causing you all this trouble so far.

“H-hello…?” you stammered out a greeting, slowly wedging yourself behind the door, using it like a makeshift barrier between you and Leon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dangled your phone in front of him, grinning playfully. “Forgot something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks!” You reached out, grabbing it quickly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

A horrifying thought swept through your mind. Did he know? You searched his facial expression closely for any indication that he might have seen something on your phone that he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing. He looked as cool and collected as ever.

Maybe you were overthinking things. “I was just about to make dinner actually,” you mentioned in passing.

He looked at you expectantly and whatever willpower you had left in that instant vanished into thin air. You caved in.

“Would you like to join me?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could process them.

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied huskily as he stepped into the corridor you led him through.

“So what’re we cooking tonight, chef?” He peered around the kitchen, checking out the equipment and utensils, trying to get acquainted with the place.

You guffawed. “Erm, you’re a guest.”

“So?” He folded his arms. “I’m not the type who lets a lady do all the work.”

Aware that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter, you raised your hands in mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He shrugged, sliding past you towards where the aprons were hanging. You gasped when you felt his calloused hands momentarily on your waist. Was he doing this on purpose?

Pulling yourself together, you started to brief him on the Sunday Roast Chicken recipe, passed down through generations in your family from a battered, old notebook. He responded to each instruction with a “Yes, ma’am,” and followed them to a T. You had to give him brownie points for his eagerness to please.

“No, Leon,” you scolded gently. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Could you stop calling me ma’am?” You laughed. “Makes me feel old.”

“You’re one to talk.” He winked at you while placing the baking tray on the correct level. “Are you this bossy in the bedroom?”

You nearly spat out the water you’d been sipping on. “Uh, I-I don’t know?” Clearly, you wanted to bury yourself in a hole right there and then.

“Guess the proof is in the pudding,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear every single word.

“Wine?” Your shrill voice cut through the air like a knife, as you tried to change the subject, shoving the bottle directly into his chest.

“Oof.” It stunned him that he felt winded by the accidental blow. He gripped the bottle as you eyed him apologetically. “Easy there, girl.”

“Sorry, my bad.”

You brought over two empty glasses while he helped to pour out the wine, your fingers grazing against his wrist as he handed you a filled up one back. A part of you wanted to prolong the caress, but you held back, unsure of where you stood with him. You could feel the weight of his burning gaze locked onto yours as he toasted to “neighbors and new beginnings” before drinking from his glass.

You almost missed your cue, taking an extra beat to raise your own glass to your lips as you dragged your eyes from his. The wine on your tongue tasted like the sweetest you had ever sipped. Maybe it’s the company? you questioned as you watched him drop his glass down on the counter behind him. You clutched your own tightly, feeling the atmosphere constricting as he refused to look away.

The only thing you could hear was the tick of the kitchen timer and the beat of your pulse in your ears as the silence stretched between you both. Besides the smoldering of his eyes under his snowy bangs, he gave you nothing, so with desperation, you racked your brain for something, anything, to keep the tense undercurrent at bay.

With a moment of clarity, it hit you as you dropped your own glass down and glanced over towards the far side of your kitchen. The single table sat there, usually a crowded affair when your friends were over but plenty big for just two. If nothing else, setting the table would keep you busy and your mind from wandering.

With a plan of action in place to set the table, you went to shift from your spot only to be met with another obstacle. Of all the places he had to be standing in your kitchen, it was just typical he was in front of the cutlery drawer. Still, even if you had to get close to him, it was meant to be a friendly dinner after all. The almost kiss was probably just in your mind and you had been overanalyzing too much. All he had done that night since was bring over your phone like a good Samaritan and help you cook dinner like a friend.

You walked over to him, noticing that despite your approach he didn't move at all, seeming very content to have you come into his close proximity. You caught his eyes as they drifted downwards, and all of a sudden you realized the mistake you were making. Being this near to him was setting off the blush you tried keeping down, and you were sure he was going to notice.

“May I?” you asked as you stopped in front of him, a hand pointing at the drawer behind him.

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, while not even moving a step away.

You blinked up at him, trying hard not to imagine what else he could possibly mean with those words. “The drawer. I keep the cutlery in there.”

Despite your explanation, he still didn’t shift, instead just staying where he was and watching you curiously. He had to wonder what you were up to, getting so close to him with that cute flush on your face, stammering out any old excuse. You didn’t need one at all, in his opinion.

“Oh.”

That one syllable sent a shiver down your spine. It was a mistake, a really, really bad one you decided right then and there. Just being so near to him, feeling the heat of his breath was making the ache to touch him that much more potent. You wanted to feel those lips.

You backed off from him in a hurry, fighting the flush that you felt flooding your skin as you bumped into the oven, clanging the pan you had on top that had been left out to help you prepare the dinner. You found your excuse to keep him at bay, still needing to finish preparing a few final bits of the meal.

“Help set the table?” you quickly asked him with your voice a tad too high. “Plates are up there.”

You hoped it worked, sending him a good distance away from you in the kitchen to arrange the table while you got your overheated body under control.

“There’s that bossy thing again,” you heard him mutter as he opened the cabinet you had pointed to and reached up to grab a couple of plates, though his words sounded strangely disappointed to your surprise.

You tried not to look over, but in the end it was in vain. You were blessed by the sight of his shirt ridden up, once again showing off his ridiculous physique and making you feel like melting all over again.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be a long one.

━━━━━━━━━━━

In spite of the earlier faux pas, you were thankful that having dinner with Leon passed by without any further embarrassments. He proved to be quite a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, and you found yourself relaxing into the laughter and various points of discussion you both shared. You were enjoying yourself so much that you hadn’t realized how fast time had flown, and it was suddenly nearing midnight. Suffice to say, you were feeling rather disappointed that he would need to leave so soon.

“Good food, good wine, good company…” He stood up, helping you to clear the dishes from the table. “What more could a man like myself ask for?”

You beamed at him, letting your guard down for once. He was being such a gentleman that you couldn’t help but open your mouth and blabber out the next statement before thinking. “Could I get you anything else? Dessert, or-”

You caught yourself, pausing abruptly as your stomach sank. Why did everything you say sound like an innuendo?

He placed the dishes down where they were and made his way slowly and assuredly towards you. For some reason, you were frozen on the spot, unable to scamper off and hide within your own home without looking like an absolute fool in front of the man you had been secretly crushing on this whole time.

“You know, I can see the gears turning.” It was as if his voice dropped an octave lower. “Right here.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the side of your head, giving you a slanted smile.

“Now that you say it,” he continued languidly. “Dessert would be nice.”

He curled his hand, so that his knuckles brushed along your cheek towards your jawline, as you shivered from his touch.

“Whatever you need,” you echoed his previous sentiments softly, as you lost yourself in his deep blue eyes, now ablaze with a fierce hunger. All you could do was stare into them, watching as they drew ever closer. Then you caught it, the moment they left yours to drop down lower. Your lips parted as you inhaled sharply, your heart pounding as you felt the ghost of his breath.

You thought that he would pull away at any second, that it was just another misunderstanding. That was until you felt the first light brush against your lips. Your mind went blank, struggling to keep up until it hit that he was kissing you. All those prior moments with him flashed across your mind, and none of them had been innocent after all.

His hand slid to rest against your cheek, pulling your face closer to his as his lips caressed your own, coaxing you to reciprocate as you finally gave in to the yearning that had constricted you for so long. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, but warm as you returned the kiss with an indulgent sigh.

You felt him smile against your mouth, as you trailed your hands along his arms towards his shoulders, pressing your body against his in an effort to deepen the kiss. He grew bolder, licking across the slight parting of your lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Whimpering in pleasure, you allowed him to move his tongue to meet yours, drawing in his taste again and again.

As you started to gently grind into him, he broke away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, panting heavily against your swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he breathed, before clamping his lips at the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

Tugging the collar of his shirt tightly, you rasped, “How about a second helping?”

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your bed, slick with sweat while Leon rocked his hips against yours. You savored the fullness of him in you, grasping onto his ass as your nails dug into his skin, leaving angry, red marks in the process. “More,” you whined, in a tone that came off unintentionally on the side of demanding rather than pleading.

He gave you just what you asked for, with sweet nothings coming from his lips along with comments about knowing you were going to be bossy. Testing the waters brought you both much further than expected, but neither of you could complain.

The rest of the night went by in a dreamlike haze. At some point, you rode him on top, his large, chafed hands groping your breasts, as you tilted your head back and cried out until your voice was hoarse. At another, you leaned your back flush against his chest as he thrust into you from behind, groaning incoherently into your neck.

You took things in your own stride, resting when needed and going again when it was comfortable to do so. Even though he had set the pace slower than you were used to, it was no less intense. In fact, everything felt deeper and more passionate, like you were melting into one.

Every release he brought you was an ascension that sent you beyond, flooding you with a euphoria that made you desperate for him. It left you addicted, your body craving more and more of his touch each time until nothing but the feel of his skin and the shifting of the sheets could be comprehended.

The final time was intense, filled with a feeling of pure bliss that you knew you would be dreaming about for days as you clung to him in desperate abandon. His name fell from your lips in a gasp, and in turn he muttered yours.

Splayed across his damp chest, you traced the lines of his freckled, weathered skin, as he stroked your hair contentedly. “Best dessert I’ve had in a while,” he grunted, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. “Michelin star worthy.”

You swatted his hand playfully, giggling at his quip. It spurred you on to tease him back. “So, will I get an actual ride next time?”

He chuckled heartily, though he didn’t miss a beat. Age was never an issue, he still had his wits about him. “’Course, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you tell me what a GILF is.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #older!leon #older leon kennedy #resident evil #fic: to neighbors and new beginnings #writing collab #porcelainscribbles

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]

Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

W.C 3.8k

Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋

{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️

He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”

Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!

He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.

“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.

“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.

You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.

He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”

The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.

“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”

He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.

“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.

“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.

A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”

Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.

“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”

The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”

His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.

You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.

You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.

Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”

“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.

Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.

Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”

You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.

He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”

You’re so fucked.

“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.

“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.

“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”

You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”

Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”

“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”

She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”

“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”

“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”

“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,

“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”

“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.

“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”

“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.

The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.

It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.

Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”

He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”

You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?

“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”

Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.

Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”

“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”

You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”

“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”

“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”

Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”

“I’d rather drop dead.”

“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.

The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.

“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”

Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.

Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.

A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.

“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”

Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.

The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.

“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”

“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.

“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?

“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “

“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.

“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.

“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.

“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.

“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”

A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.

Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.

“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”

You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.

Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.

Oh— this mother fucker.

“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.

Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.

“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.

A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.

“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.

Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”

You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.

vol ii

volume ii

A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋

Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)

#newlipsmilestoneoflove #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #enemies to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie fanfiction

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