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heartepub · 4 months ago

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if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask.

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread.

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash.

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.”

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.”

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red.

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless.

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke.

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom.

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you.

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind.

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you.

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you.

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment.

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt fanfiction #.dive site

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saintsanddevils · 4 months ago

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Moth To A Flame

Ridoc Gamlyn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ridoc takes you clubbing, while buried feelings surface in the midst of the dance floor.

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, SMUT, porn with feelings, swearing

Author’s Note: Ridoc would totally be a club rat & this is me supporting that theory. I became a huge fan of Dain after Onyx Storm, so pls forgive the slight Dain bashing.

Word Count: 4K

Posted on AO3

Masterlist

————

Whiskey-colored eyes meet mine as the beat inflates, bouncing against the walls of the club. Red, pink, and gold lights whip around the fog-filled room, casting every silhouette in neon. It’s crowded, humid, and the music is overwhelming.

But with Ridoc’s hand slipping up my arm to my waist after pulling me through the crowd, shivers of awareness rack through me. His touch distracts me from the crushing presence of the bodies around us. He grounds me as his lopsided smile comes inches from my face before he ducks his head to my ear.

“You doing alright?”

His voice did not have to be that low and seductive. He knew what he was doing, and that would normally piss me off, but in this setting, where it felt like we were floating in an ocean of people who lowered their inhibitions and didn’t give a damn about anyone, it felt like it was just the two of us. Ridoc had a way of doing that. Making me forget my anxieties, what people thought of me, how the world was going to hell. He always brought me back to the present. Even with the slightest touch.

And currently, that touch around my waist was pulling me closer and closer to him. My breath hitches as the material of my dress rides up slightly with the grip he has on me. A girl could get drunk on the look he’s giving me. His eyes taking in every inch of me as his grin widens.

“You okay? Or are my good looks too distracting?” He winks, wiggling a brow suggestively.

Yeah, that dumb mouth of his can sure kill a mood.

I roll my eyes, but reach out to grip his bicep as someone from behind pushes me forward. I balance on tiptoes to answer him. “It’s just… loud.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t that the point?”

I shake my head. “Remind me again why I even let you drag me here?”

Ridoc gives me a devilish grin that sends butterflies through my stomach. I try to quell the feeling because if he knew the effect he had on me, I’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m teaching you how to have fun, let loose, reach your max potential.”

I snort. “My max potential?”

He shrugs. “Oh, you definitely needed to leave the library, or you would’ve ended up just like Dain.”

“What’s wrong with being like Dain?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing, besides becoming a downer, a rule follower, and a total tight-ass.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s not that bad.”

Ridoc grips his chest with his free hand in a look of feigned shock. “Have you met him?”

I can’t hide my smile this time.

Another person pushes me; this time, I trip forward in my heels and fall into Ridoc’s broad chest. The muscles flex under my hand, making me even more aware of every single place we touch. His grip on my waist is tighter than before, pulling me to him as people dance around us with not a care in the world.

“We need a drink,” he shouts to be heard over the blaring music.

I shake my head, glancing behind us towards the entrance in the distance. “What about everyone else? Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

Ridoc grips me tighter as he leans in, his voice low in my ear. “And share you with the rest of them? I don’t think so.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as he gives me a heated look that makes his eyes sparkle mischievously in the dim lighting. He pulls me with him as he makes his way through the crowd once more. Pushing and jostling people out of the way as he holds me close to him, ensuring no one bumps into me. I try not to notice how his hands feel large against me, cursing myself for wishing he was touching my skin instead.

We reach the bar, and he quickly orders my favorite liquor, surprising me.

He catches my raised brows and winks. “And you think I don’t pay attention?”

I shake my head, hiding my blush as I turn towards the crowd while we wait. I’m all too aware of the feel of both his hands on my hips as he talks with the bartender.

Months ago, hell, even a year ago, I would never have found myself here. Especially with Ridoc. Sure, the boy charmed me daily with those roguish good looks of his and his witty banter, but as time went on and we continued remaining friends, I never knew if his flirting was real or not. Even now, I can’t tell if he’s just being Ridoc or wanting something more.

I freeze. Did I want something more? I mean… sure, he was attractive and playful, and yeah, he just naturally flirted with anyone with a pulse, but did that mean I wanted all those moments between us to mean something? I couldn’t be into him, right? He’s just being his usual friendly self with me... Right?

Slow-rising panic makes me itch to leave the crowded room and get some much-needed fresh air. His arm around my waist suddenly pulls my back against his hard chest, stopping my heart and any anxiety that was coursing through me just now.

“Stop overthinking,” his breath tickles my neck, sending goosebumps across my heated skin. “I can practically hear your thoughts, they’re that loud. Should I yell to get them to go away?”

I can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes my mouth. Being friends for so long has its benefits if he knows me that well.

A short glass with liquor enters my vision as Ridoc places it in my fingers. “This should help.”

I damn well hope it does. I slam it down my throat, letting the burn push any doubts and fears far from me.

My nerves settle as his arm braces around me, keeping me close. His lips brush my ear, making me shiver. “Better?”

I nod, not trusting my voice as his fingers play with the silk of my dress.

He hums in my ear. “Good. Now let’s dance.”

With the flick of his wrist, he spins me away from him before twirling me back into his waiting arms. A giggle lets loose as I hold on to him, my head spinning from the movement. His smile lights up the dance floor as he pulls me along behind him.

The music escalates, the crowd raising their hands to the ceiling as the beat rises and rises. The air fills with anticipation as we make our way to the middle of the crowd. Once the beat holds and drops, the crowd surges. Yells and cheers of excitement bounce around us as Ridoc turns to face me, his smile contagious as he joins them.

The music beats through my blood as I step closer to Ridoc, afraid I’ll lose him in the swell of bodies around us. His grip doesn’t falter. If anything, the people around us embolden him to pull me against him as he dances. Another laugh escapes me as he folds his arms around me, making me dance with him.

Gods, he’s gorgeous. I can’t help but admire him as he sings along, moving our hips in time to the beat. The liquor definitely helped since now my entire body is buzzing, electrified, and wanting to be set free. I let Ridoc take control and follow his lead.

His hands are all I know as he spreads them around my torso, sliding up my arms, pulling me this way and that. I smile when he slips behind me, binding our bodies together so there’s no room between us. He winds his hands around my middle to hold my ribs and keep me flush against him. I feel every dip and curve of his body as he moves us in time with the intoxicating music.

Time suspends us as we move, and it begins to make me feel bolder. Without a second thought, I find myself grinding into him, throwing my head back.

Ridoc hisses in my ear, before growling, “Don’t tempt me, Y/N.”

I smirk. Playful vengeance surges inside me. Now for a taste of his own medicine.

“What if I want to?” I rock my hips back to the beat, making him moan.

His grip on my hips stops me from doing it again, his head leaning against the back of mine as a tortured sound escapes him.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be a gentleman anymore. I’ll lose control.”

I turn my head to meet his eyes. His pupils are wide, his breathing erratic as he stares at me with open longing. I can’t help my smile as I lean back into him. His breath hitches when my lips skate across the skin of his jaw.

Maybe I’m not the only one who wants this.

“So lose control.”

His eyes flare as I grind into him once more. Hardness meets my backside before he suddenly flips me around, crushing me to him. His lips meet my neck as I wind my arms around his. Hands roam my back, lowering down, down, down to my backside. I shiver as Ridoc backs me gently against a pillar, ignoring every person dancing around us.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he groans into my collarbone as his tongue swipes across my skin.

Gods, that feels so good.

I moan at the sensation. Feeling emboldened by his lips, I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, pulling him closer. Hardness grinds into my clothed core and we both moan at the same time.

I gasp out a laugh as butterflies and nerves grip me by the throat. Doubts swarm my brain suddenly before I can stop it. Clarification slams into me as I look around at the people dancing in the crowd. No one notices or cares what we’re doing. I feel Ridoc’s dark curls between my fingers and bite my lip. Ridoc is my best friend and— his hands shift my hips to better slot between my legs.

Oh shit, that’s incredible.

His sure, calloused hands find the edge of my dress, sliding along the skin of my thigh. His touch inflames me, burning away any lingering doubt. I give in. I push and pull against him, writhing as he moves his lips upwards, to my jaw. The music rattles my bones as his clothed dick hits me in a place that makes me see stars.

At my sudden gasp, Ridoc pulls back, inches from my lips. He breathes heavily as his wide eyes meet mine. This moment suspends between us, fragile and wary, as we stare. If we continue, there’s no going back. Not for me. I’ve wanted him for too long. Not just his body, but everything that makes Ridoc, Ridoc. Remembering how his eyes filled with such unrestrained longing, I pour every ounce of what I feel for him into my small smile.

His eyes capture the expression and he matches it, warmth surging through me like a drug. He leans forward, kissing my skin once more.

“Please,” he whines against my jaw. “Please tell me you want this. I’ll go mad if you don’t. I… I know we’re friends and I completely understand if it’s the alcohol and you’re just feeling tipsy and only want to have fun, but I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” His forehead crashes to mine gently. “So long, Y/N. You have no idea how much I don’t want to be just friends-“ my breath hitches at the confession, but he continues, his hands shaking slightly as he grips me. “But I completely get it if you don’t want to ruin what we have and-“

“Ridoc,” I stop him. My smile is practically beaming as I grip his neck. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Like a moth to a flame, Ridoc dips his head and crashes his lips to mine. Sparks set off my nerve endings, making me jolt from the impact of the kiss. I hold him tighter to me, gripping his curls. Gods, they’re so soft.

We’re moving again, this time Ridoc shifts so he’s the one leaning against the pillar while I cling to him.

“I-I’ve thought about this,” he says between kisses. “So much,” he kisses me again. “You have no idea how much.” My teeth bite his lip and he groans. “Gods, Y/N.”

With another bite and pull of his bottom lip between my teeth, he pulls back. “That’s it, we’re leaving.”

He leans down and wraps my other leg around him, carrying me through the crowd. His grip is bruising as he pushes through bodies. Uncaring of who sees now, I continue my path from his swollen lips to his jaw, holding on for dear life as I move my lips down his neck before I stop and suck at his pulse point.

He moans just as cool air hits my heated skin. His hand slides into my hair just as I’m slammed against a wall, his body caging me deliciously. The music is much quieter now that I can see we’re alone in some sort of hallway off the main floor. I don’t care. As long as I can keep kissing him, I don’t give a shit where we are.

I continue my path to his collarbone, nipping at his skin. The hand holding me to him roams my thigh, inching higher and higher till I can feel his fingers toying with the edge of my underwear. I moan as I grind against his clothed dick once more, hoping he gets the message.

“Holy shit,” he gasps as his fingers slide beneath the material, skating across where I want him the most. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

I moan as his long, calloused fingers toy with me before one of them slides perfectly inside me. We both groan into each other as our mouths crash together messily. His finger is joined by another, long and rough as it curls into me in just the right way, I see stars. He bites my lip, pulling and tugging as I consume him entirely. I ride his fingers as his thumb finds my clit.

“Fuck, yes, right there, Ridoc,” I whine against his lips.

He shudders. “Gods, the way you say my name.”

I smirk, sucking his bottom lip again before whispering. “Want me to scream it?”

“Fuck,” Ridoc shivers beneath me as his grip on my pussy becomes rough, demanding. “I want you to know,” his voice quivers as I writhe against his hand. “I want this to be perfect, Y/N. I want you-“

“I want you,” I grip his collar and pull him back to my mouth. “I don’t care where” I breathe between his lips. “Or how, I just want you. I always have.”

Ridoc moans against my lips. “Oh thank fuck.”

That warmth of something more pulses between us as he kisses me with abandon. His fingers working overtime to bring me higher and higher. I feel myself float as I crest the wave before I finally crash, moaning and writhing against him. Heat courses through me as sparks of light flash beneath my lids. I moan his name, causing him to press his lips roughly against me to suck the word from my mouth.

When I come down, my head swims and my body tingles from the high. I smirk at him as he pulls back, checking me as his free hand curves along my cheek.

“You okay?”

I smile softly up at him, my heart swelling with his care. “Of course I am, I’m with you.”

His smile is contagious as he kisses the tip of my nose. “Want to get out of here?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

——————

We crash into his room, the door swinging against the wall with a loud bang. Hands tear through hair and clothes as we collide. Once his shirt is gone, his hands find the backs of my thighs, heaving me up to wrap my arms and legs around him.

A deep voice suddenly carries from the hall. “Oh, uh, hey you left the door open-“

“Fuck off, Dain,” Ridoc growls.

I catch sight of him over Ridoc’s shoulder as he quickly slams the door closed. Laughter escapes me as I grip on to Ridoc’s bare skin.

He smirks up at me, his cockiness now on full display. “Can’t have him seeing what’s mine.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow, goading him. “And what is yours?”

His hands grip my ass as he confidently walks forward, his legs hitting the edge of the bed as his smirk turns into a wicked grin. “Care to find out?”

I don’t have any warning when he throws me onto the bed. I’m giggling as he slides over my body, bracing himself over me while his lips crash to mine. It’s consuming and burning as he devours me. I let myself dive in, feeling his calloused hands rise to the strap of my dress. With a gentle, torturously slow pull, he brings the silk down, exposing my breast to the moonlight. His hand immediately slides into place, squeezing, tugging.

The second his lips leave mine, forcing a whine from my mouth, he quickly finds my nipple and sucks, long and hard. I jolt, writhing as he continues to tease me. I grip on to his hair, pulling his curls to make him moan against my skin.

His other hand slides the other half of my dress down until I’m full exposed. His hands and lips work in tandem to pinch, squeeze, and suck as he presses me further into the bed.

“Ridoc,” I groan as he leaves a tender love bite on the bottom side of my breast. “Please.”

He looks up at me through his long lashes from his position on my chest. His tongue flicks out, teasing and tasting.

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

I grip him closer to me before the words escape. “I need you inside me. Now.”

His grin is all sin as he bites my nipple once more. “As you wish.”

His fingers make quick work of my dress, casting it to the floor and leaving me in just my underwear. With soft laughter between us, he maneuvers my underwear off my legs. Wiggling his brows, I smile as he stuffs my panties in his back pocket.

“Stealing my underwear?” I question.

“More like a keepsake,” He winks.

Ridoc grabs my ankles and pulls me to the end of the bed, tugging until my ass is almost to the edge. He pulls my knees up over his shoulders and gives me the most cocky look I’ve ever seen from him.

“I’ve been waiting too long to do this and I’m not wasting a second,” he kneels to the hardwood floor as he unbuttons his pants. I try to catch sight of what he’s doing, but he presses me back down with a firm hand.

“Hold on to something, baby.”

Without warning, he dives into my cunt, licking and sucking like a man starved.

Gods, that mouth.

My eyes roll back at the sudden sensation, his fingers finding and pinching my clit as he rolls his tongue between my folds. I try to grip onto the sheets, but they slip from my palms. Instead, I find his head and grasp his dark curls for dear life as he groans into me.

I’m rising to my peak far too soon as he flicks my clit. I see stars before looking down at him on his knees before me. His eyes are on me, wide and hungry as they drink me in, pleasuring me with his tongue. I see his other hand that’s not on me moving back and forth below my line of sight. I furrow my brows in question until I hear him moan again with another flick of his tongue. I gasp. Is he… touching himself while he eats me out?

The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock while he fucks his tongue into me has me coming hard on his face. I writhe and tremble as shockwaves rock through me. When I finally come down from the high, he’s standing above me, my slick covering his mouth, as his hand rocks back and forth with his— My eyes widen. His dick is huge and hangs from his unbuttoned pants in his hand. I unabashedly stare as he works himself, up and down, over me. It’s incredibly hot.

“You’re not going to fit,” I whisper in shock.

Ridoc tsks as his tongue darts out, licking the slick from his lips. I don’t hold back my moan as he brings his other hand, the one that was inside of me, up and licks his fingers.

“Thanks for the ego boost,” he winks. “But I’ll fit. I’ll make sure of it.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes if he hadn’t suddenly pushed me down on the bed as he throws his pants off in the same movement. He may be all jokes and carefree smiles, but Ridoc knows what he’s doing when it comes to fucking.

He positions himself over my entrance and, without preamble, slams into me, forcing me to cry out. It takes my breath away as he grips my hips, rocking into me. The stretch is everything. I feel entirely full and overwhelmed. It’s addicting.

I rock my hips to force him to move, feeling him bury inside me as he begins to pump. In and out. In and out.

We both groan as my legs wrap around his torso, his knees hitting the bed as he scoops me up to hit me harder, deeper. I hold on to his shoulders as his lips latch onto my neck. This angle, oh gods, this angle has me throwing my head back in rapture as he fucks me.

“Told you I’d fit,” he whispers roughly.

I huff a laugh before bringing his lips to mine. I feel that rising heat once more, deep within me. The more he thrusts, deep and punishing, his deft fingers playing with my clit, I feel myself close to shattering yet again.

“I’m-“ I gasp. “I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, baby,” he breathes before hitting me faster. His thrusts frantic now as he chases his own pleasure.

We both come together, screaming as I feel him spill into me. My cunt squeezes him, over and over and over again, before we both fall to the bed in a pile of limbs.

Heaving breaths fill the air as we come down from what was probably the best sex of my entire life.

Ridoc’s dark eyes capture mine as he maneuvers me so I’m laying on his chest. His arms wrap securely around me as he kisses the top of my head.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

My heart soars from his tenderness. I smile into his skin. “This, holding me, sleeping together, that’s what I want.”

His smile is blinding as he turns my face up to his. “Until the sun rises, you’re mine.”

I give him a soft and gentle kiss. “And after that?”

“I’m yours,” his eyes hold a severe weight as he stares down at me, his lips caressing mine. “Now and always.”

#fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc x reader #ridoc smut #ridoc fourth wing #fourth wing fanfiction #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #the empyrean #fourth wing reader insert #fem reader #reader insert #reader smut

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tojipie · 5 months ago

Note

I love your writing soon much!!! I'd love to see one where megumi calls you while you're receiving tojis back shots and you have to keep your composure😭🙏

there’s a special warm little place in my heart just for dilf toji who simply can’t stop fucking his son’s college friends

content: drabble, smut, more porn than plot, fem reader

˚ ✧ ───────────

“Aww c’mon,” Toji teases, holding the receiver to your ear with a laugh. “He’s not gonna stop calling.”

To say you were frustrated would be a flat out lie. You were pissed. The call couldn’t have come at a worser time, effectively putting a pin in what was supposed to be a much needed fuck.

You rock back onto Toji’s dick in earnest, trying to distract him from the task at hand.

“Keep fucking me,” you whine, batting at the arm currently holding your buzzing phone to the side of your face.

“Hmm? Should I?” He asks fondly, laughing at the scowl on your face.

“Just fucking hang up—” your blood runs cold as you hear your best friend’s voice on the other line.

“Hey! Are you busy?” megumi asks, patiently waiting for your reply. The smug little grin on his father’s face pisses you off more than it should.

“No.. why?” You grit, swatting behind you in frustration. Toji catches your hand as it collides with what you think is his stomach, twisting your arm behind your back and rendering you powerless. You’re ashamed to admit you clamp down on him at the show of dominance, rendering yourself speechless as he begins to rut into you again.

“Nobara and I were going to hit the library if you’re down, we miss you so much.” Toji scoffs behind you, laying the phone flat with the receiver next to your mouth.

“I miss you guys too,” you muster, wincing as his father’s hand squeezes the back of your neck, a silent warning.

“Oh, do you now?” Toji grumbles in your ear, squeezing the fat of your ass and dealing a stinging slap to the tender flesh. The squeal that escapes you only spurs him on, the pliant skin of your neck now under his searing hit tongue as he sucks a violet mark under your jugular.

You loved when he got like this, flamingly possessive at even the slightest show of affection from hisb son. Toji could handle you two being friends, but he’d be damned before he lets you sweet talk another man on his cock.

“I don’t think I can make it today though, family plans,” you say cautiously, gasping as Toji’s slow rut morphs into a merciless assault on your soaking wet walls.

“The hell was that?” Megumi laughs, clearly not catching onto what was currently happening.

You quickly shove your face into the pillow to muffle the moans that follow suit, whimpering as your head is wrenched back by your hair and held in front of the phone by a thick hand.

“Answer him, pretty,” His father whispers, easing up on you and slowing his thrusts.

You’re too far gone to respond now, feeling your orgasm creeping closer by the second.

“Listen, c-can we come back to this later? I—” you’re already clamping down hard on Toji’s dick before you can get the rest of your sentence out, soaking the both of you as your body explodes in every sense of the word.

You don’t even have it in you to panic when you feel him snatch the phone off the pillow and put it on speaker, still pummeling into your sopping wet entrance as he speaks.

“Hey, I think she’ll have to call you back kiddo.” he says, hanging up as the other line erupts in chaos.

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steddiewithachance · 1 year ago

Text

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ��̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff

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trendywaifus · 8 months ago

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SCREAMPIED !

— there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? ↳ INSPIRED BY SCARY MOVIE.

a/n — ngl i put more thought to this than the last one so think of this as the better sequel. it’s long btw.

part one

↳featuring ghost face! transfem! feixiao x fem! reader

GENRE — THRILLER, COMEDY, FORCED ROMANCE

WARNINGS — 2000’s COLLEGE AU, UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL FIXIATION, CUNNINGLIUS, CREAMPIE, CURSING, TEASING, SLIGHT KNIFE PLAY, SIZE KINK, PENTRATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, MIND DUMBFICATION, POSSESSIVE FEIXIAO

“ it seems like events are repeating theirselves once again as there’s been another murder, not one, but two this time, “ the blonde newsreporter stood in front of your college campus in the middle of the night as she emphasizes her words, “ that’s right folks you heard me, two murders happened right on this campus yesterday night involving a twenty–five old male, caelus and a twenty—four year old, dan heng. “

previously leaning back into the sofa, utterly bored out of your mind, you hastily scoot your butt to the edge of the cushion, jaw slacking in shock. “ oh my god? dan heng and caelus? what the fuck, why? how? “ you didn’t know the two very well but they were very popular around the college. caelus was an average jockey who was apart of the football team and dan heng was the quiet boy you’ll mostly see at the back of a classroom or in a library. the only reason why they was so popular is because they were seen with each other a lot—well it was mostly because of caelus following dan heng around like a puppy. they fit the stereotypical quiet boy and jock boy romance bullshit. it was cute as fuck but god it felt like you were a background character witnessing a yaoi manga in real time.

the news reporter walks around the half empty campus, looking for poor college students to interview. since it was halloween night, there was a good amount of people hanging around the campus in halloween costumes. “ i’m sorry, young man—i mean young lady, do you have a second?” the lady walks up to a person and the camera panels to a tall, grey-haired woman wearing a baggy tracksuit who strikes a strong sense of familiarity in you. her sun colored eyes glances between the camera and the news reporter in confusion. their voices blur in your ears as your pensive gaze lingers on the familiar woman currently on camera. your mind flashes back to last halloween where you fucked the shit out of a dumbass killer who broke into your house and looked just like her. “ am i genuinely tripping right now or is this who i think it is? “ you blink several times at the screen, “ is she at the same fucking campus i’m going to?! how in the fuck have i not seen her until conveniently now? bullshit. “

her soft voice rings through the mic, “ caelus was my brother and— “

you let out a string of curses, snatching the remote from the table and angrily changed the channel to some shitty slasher movie. “ she’s caelus’s sis? and a hot one at that. ugh, that makes so much sense because they look like twins. i knew she looked familiar when i unmasked her. i bet she’s the one who did it. maybe i should snitch—wait, since i knew about her and fucked her, would i get arrested for swallowing and letting her nut in me? what would i call that? guilty by fucking. .?”

actually. . .you changed your mind. if she does it again next halloween that’s when you’ll report her. yeeah. but then again, why would she even kill her own brother and his boyfriend? that’s some fucked up sibling beef. but you know one thing, she better not try and fuck with you again—

ring ring !

“ son of a. . .” you reach for your house phone on the table beside the sofa and bring the phone to your ear. “ hello? “ you hold your breath as you wait for the person the other line to speak.

“ . . .hi, (name)? “ your friend’s high-pitched voice, march, comes through the speaker. you let out the most heaviest sigh of relief.

“ good it’s you. march, question. .did you know that caelus had a sister? “ you inquire, leaning your body back into the soft cushion, idly watching the slasher chase his victim on tv.

“ umm, yeah? “ she replies back with a matter-of-fact tone. “ her name’s stelle, she’s apart of the girl’s varsity basketball team but you really only see her at the gym, track, and other athletic clubs. i think i have one core class with her but she’s really quiet and a little weird. let’s just say she’s the total opposite of caelus in terms of popularity and personality. which is sad ‘cus she’s such a hottie too. . “ well, stelle sure wasn’t the total opposite with you. “ by the way, you heard about caelus and dan heng right? i’m genuinely shocked that they got shanked! they were so good together—maybe the killer is a homophobe?”

“ march, don’t start. “ you groaned, running a lazy hand through your hair. march loves to gossip and gets wild with her speculations at times. though, they are pretty entertaining as the rumors she tells you about from being apart of the cheerleading team and photography club.

“ hear me out! last year there was multiple murders in our town but only two of them were students from our campus. the snazzy guy, aventurine who liked to make crazy bets to earn money and sunday, the student council and robin’s brother. “

“ um, so? “

march sighs, “ there was rumors that aventurine messed around with vertus ratio in y’know, that way so people were speculating that they had a thing. sunday was also caught with adventurine during— “

you cut her off, “ march, i don’t know if anyone told you this but like, half of the men here are into hot dogs. like, they’d definitely have a huge sausage party if all of them were to get together. so, the killer wouldn’t be homophobic if over half of the men at our college likes ding-a-lings. “

“ ughhh, these killings seem pretty targeted if you ask me. but i have to go, i need to go through my camera. i took some photos of cool costumes people was wearing. i’ll talk to you tomorrow bestie, bye~ “ she ends the call and you set the phone back down where it belongs.

you sit there in silence, spacing out. the whole situation is pretty weird and the fact that you were previously targeted counters march’s claims. to you, the killings were just random and unhinged like stelle. you just don’t know understand how someone goofy as her can possibly be responsible for the murders. who gives a shit though, you’ll just fuck stelle and pretend the whole thing is a porno if she comes back to try again.

ringgggg !

your shoulders slack in annoyance and you reach for the buzzing phone again. “ hello? it’s getting late, call me tomorrow—“

a muffled, raspy voice interrupts you, “ what’s your scary movie, doll face? “

you let out a sigh, not an ounce of fear invoked in your heart. you’re not scared this time from already experiencing this. “ oh, so you came back for more, stelle? i just saw you on the news. “ a snort leaves your smirking lips. “ are you actually going to kill me this time? “ the mysterious voice laughs with mirth, and somehow it sounds different from before.

“ this is not stelle. you scared her away, which i’m impressed about. but i’m not here to kill you baby, oh no, “ their voice lowers a pitch as they rasp, “ i was hoping to get my hands on your pretty ass, ‘been wanting you for a long time now. shoulda’ been me who got fucked instead of her. now to start things off, why not answer my question— “

“ oh, so i attracted another one. fuckin’ great. didn’t see that one coming. “ you say sarcastically, hanging up the phone right in that weirdo’s face. “ like damn, my pussy gotta be a magnet now if another one is stalking me. they gotta have some skype slasher group chat going on. .“ it hasn’t even been five minutes and the phone goes off again. you smack your lips, picking up the phone once more.

“ yo. “

“ hanging up on me is pretty rude, pup. i’m trying to be patient for you and i’m generally an impatient person.— “

you roll your eyes, “ choke on a dick, jackass. “

“ hehe, you’re going to be choking on mines by tonight— “

“ don’t care, bucko. just because i fucked your friend doesn’t mean shit. i’m not going to answer your question either. if you want your dick blown, have that dumbass hottie friend of yours to do it. bye. “

you slammed the house phone down and got up from the couch. “ i’m going to wash my ass, fuck this shit.“

forgotten about the shitty horror movie playing in the background, you left the living room and made your ways towards the stairs to take a shower. oh, no, hopefully the big bad killer won’t secretly follow you upstairs and get you while you’re taking a shower. you roll your eyes with a dry laugh at the thought. “ cover for me, “ you pat the large piano that you somehow stationed at the top of the stairs, “ if not, i’m ripping out your keys like they’re damn press-on fingernails, okay? “ the piano responds back with hurried high notes as it slightly trembles. you don’t even know why your father has a piano in the house, neither you or him can play for shit. you really only say that you have a piano to score the magneta—haired babe who’s into classical music. what was her favorite song again? dramatic epiphany?

“ atta girl. “

you take your shower without any disturbance. well, your soap kept “slipping” from your hand so you had to bend down a few times to get it. (un)fortunately a dick didn’t magically appear and stick itself in you. steam spills into your bedroom as you walk out of the misty bathroom with a tank top and shorts on, drying your hair with a towel wrapped around your shoulders. as you made your way back downstairs, you lazily thanked the piano. “ thanks. i guess i’ll have to play with you sometime as a reward. “

you ignore the cheery high notes hitting your ears as you walk down the steps.

and as soon as you stepped inside of the living room, the phone rings again. you angrily picked up the house phone for the third time within two hours. you drape the towel over your shoulder as you plop down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone! “ you barked, pausing the cheesy horror film you forgot was on while taking a “quick”one hour shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! and don’t even bother asking me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! there! stelle was somehow less annoying than you are! “

nothing but heavy breathing can be heard on the other line and if you listen closely, you can hear wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “ fucck, “ the killer’s voice groans out, “ keep yelling, i’m almost finished. .mm. .“

“ you got to be fucking kidding me. “ you mutter irritably, face crunching up with disgust.

“ you sound so sexy when you’re upset, i love it. ‘that��s just how i want my girl to be. “ they continue to speak in a strained voice, “ and i’m jealous that you keep mentioning that girl when i’m here. by the end of this night, you’ll be expecting me instead around every halloween~ “

“ fuck off, loser! “ you snarl through gritted teeth, “ what i’m expecting from you is to stop calling my phone and leave. me. alone.”

“ no, because i’m already here~ “

on cue, they casually pop out into the doorway of your kitchen with their own phone near their masked head, dressed in the similar ghoulish outfit like last halloween. their statue seems a bit taller or just as tall as stelle’s. you shoot up from the couch, the towel that was once on your shoulder falls to your feet. you clutch the house phone, ready to use it as a weapon. “ what the fuck? how did you get in here? “

chuckling lowly, they lean into the doorway, crossing their arms in a relaxed manner. “ you have a habit of leaving your back door open, a bad habit for such a pretty girl like you who’s constantly home alone. though, i’m not complaining. it made things easier for me~ “ they purred.

“ yeah? w-well, come at me! this ain’t my first rodeo, creep! “

“ and it certainly won’t be your last, baby. “ they remarked smoothly, stepping into the living room. heat simmers in your belly. damn, had they not been some weirdo, you would’ve of just let them have it and keep your panties as a trophy.

“ try me! “ you chucked the phone at the unwanted guest and sprinted towards the dining room. you can easily just loop in the kitchen, tire them out, and head toward upstairs for the piano. “ oh i will baby, all nighhht! “ they run after you, quick on their feet. you dash through the dining room and into the kitchen, hauling over to the rectangular counter conveniently at the middle of the kitchen. they let out a amused laugh as they realized your plan.

“ really, pup? you can’t possibly think you’re going to outwit me with this boring trick. c’mon, you don’t have to make it harder for us, i swear i won’t hurt ya!”

you take a hurried step to the side, they do the same. “ fuck you! “ you grab an apple from the fruit bowl and threw it at the other end of the counter. they easily dodge it and seize the chance to dash towards your end. you took off running to the other end and it repeats for a few minutes. you can tell they were getting frustrated from the way they would curse and slam their fist onto the marble surface whenever they fail to outsmart your loops.

“ damnit girl, it’s starting to get hot under this thing! as much as i want to play ring around the rosy with you, i can hardly move with this on! just be a good girl and come over here so i bend you over this counter!“ they growled impatiently, mirroring every step you take. you move to the left, they move to the left. you move to the right, they move to the right. “ fuck no, stupid bitch! “

they click their tongue with a plan in mind. “ if that’s how you want to play it, “ they bait you by acting like they’re running to your end and as soon as you sprint halfway to the other side, they quickly slide over the counter. you let out a troubled scream as the triumphant killer throws their arms around you and yank you into their solid body. “ gotcha baby~—hey, watch your damn elbow! “ they narrowly dodge your elbow jabbing at their head.

“ l-lemme go! “ you cried out, kicking and thrashing in their tight hold.

“ nah, not when you made me work for it, girlie. now, stop struggling orr. .” you feel something sharp pressed against your neck. they chuckle darkly in your ear.

“ ugh! oh no, you have a knife against my neck, i guess i have to follow whatever you say or some shit. ” you grumble sarcastically in defeat, relaxing in her arms.

“ hehe, that’s my girl. at least you know how to play your part as the main girl well, hm? “ they turn you around and back you up against the counter. your opposer towers over you, trailing their knife gently along your jaw and tap it under your chin. a pleased hum leaves them as they shamelessly admire your features. “ wow, “ they awe breathlessly, the cool metal gradually runs down your neck, “ now that i’m up close and personal, you look like a fine piece of work, baby. fuck, i’m jealous stelle got to you first—which is why i killed her brother and his butt buddy. she was only suppose to scare you. ”

“ wh-what the fuck? who the hell are you? “

they rip off the ghostface mask and your eyes pop open like you seen a bunch of aliens walking around in the streets with thongs on. once again, you’re face to face with a familiar woman. long white tresses flutters down her shoulders, large, foxian ears spring out and stand tall as she looks down at you with her mischievous, piercing cerulean hues. how the hell did she get everything to fit into that mask?

“ f-feixiao? you’re that team captain from the woman’s varsity basketball team! “

feixiao smirks down at you, teeth baring. “ surprise~”she croons, her voice sounding much clearer and distinct. she’s popular amongst the girls in the college, a huge fuckgirl who you avoid like the plague. yeah, she’s the whole package but you find her a cocky tryhard who thinks she’s humble. “ it honestly could of been anyone but you. “

she juts out her bottom lip in a playful pout, ears slightly flattened. you know she’s pretending like the jester she is. “ what, you don’t like me? i did nothing to you. “

you cross your arms with a curled brow. “ that’s true. you did nothing to me but you did do something to a whole bunch of other girls. “ feixiao laughs, then licks her lips as her roughish gaze lowers at your exposed cleavage then back up into your eyes. she presses herself into you, bringing her lips to the shell of your ear. you feel something hard against your thigh. what’s up with women having dicks?

“ you don’t like that, pretty girl? i can always stop for you if you become my main girl. “ the white haired woman nibbles at your lobe and kisses at the spot right under your ear. you unfold your arms to grip the bulky edges of the counter behind you as she peppers damp kisses down the column of your neck. “ how many girls have you told that to? “ you bite your lip, holding back a groan.

“ jus’ you baby, promise. “ feixiao mutters against your skin, rocking her steady hips into yours. her knife trails down your cleavage and you stiffen. she chuckles at your jumpy reaction, and dips her head down to lap at the hardening bud through your tank top with her eager tongue. a short groan exits from your parted lips. feixiao cup the underside of your clothed breast and attach her hungry mouth to the bud. she suckles and firmly tugs until her spit ruins the fabric of your tank top.

“ damn, you know what. . “ feixiao carelessly tosses the knife on the counter behind you, abruptly pulls away, and releases your breast to lift up her inky hooded robe with one hand while the other fumble downward to unzip her ripped black jeans. your wandering gaze takes a glimpse of her abs, which tastefully protrude through the tight fabric of a black top underneath. damn. “ on your knees. “ she commands, desperation tainting her proud voice. you begrudgingly do so, waiting for feixiao to pull out her dick.

“ oh. .my god. “ you gawk as she finally frees herself. yeah, she’s definitely packing—a least two inches bigger than stelle. it’s slightly curved to the left, and girthy. you swallowed thickly. you see why the girls flock to her. feixiao smiles smugly at your big doe eyes, “ that’s the reaction i’ve been wanting to see,”considerate, gloved fingers gently push back the tousled locks from your eyes and into a ponytail. “ be my lady and you’d get to see this damn near every night, fuck every halloween. “

the tip of her cock playfully pokes at your lips. “ tempting, but no. i still don’t like you, feixiao. “

feixiao pouts before sighing with defeat despite not feeling discouraged by your answer. “ fine. i’m still not giving up, i bet you’ll change your mind by the time i’m done with you. now open up. “

you comply and feixiao momentarily release the hold from your hair to slowly slides herself in your moist mouth. only half of her is in and yet she feels heavy on your tongue. “ mmmh. . “ she sucks in a sharp breath, taking a brief moment to adjust. “ ‘gonna go slow, baby. “ feixiao groans, slowly rolling her hips into your mouth. your pillowy lips enclose around her shaft and your hands rest on her thighs. her fat cockhead graze the back of your throat before retreating away.

“ you look so pretty on your knees like this—damn, i might cream in your mouth right now from just looking at you. . “

your brows knit together. is she actually serious right now? there’s no way you got the biggest fuckgirl in your college, who also revealed herself to be a murder, saying shit like this. this has to be some sick halloween fantasy written by a horny bum with failing romance in their life.

feixiao slightly speeds up her moving hips, edging herself more down your throat as she thrusts. she tips her head back, becoming tipsy to the addicting warmth and wetness of your mouth. your spit coats her thick shaft, leaving behind a sheen. “ no gagging so far? hehe, you’re doing so well, pretty. .” feixiao moans out shamelessly, biting her bottom lip to the filthy, drawn out squelching noises producing from your stuffed mouth.

she grips your ponytail a little tighter, “ actually, i change my mind—fuck. .i might lose it if i go at this pace. breathe through your nose now, baby. i promise i’ll be quick! “

you rolled your eyes and nod your head, relaxing your jaw. she blurts out a cheery yes! then adjusts her footing. just like how feixiao wanted, she starts rutting into your mouth. you force out series of guttural sounds, but you don’t yield from her deep thrusts. your constricting walls swallow in her needy cock, earning strings of curses and groans. “ just what i-i thought, your throat feels amazing. i-i can only imagine what she feels like. . “ she moans, repeatedly snapping her sloppy hips into your mouth.

she? oh god, did feixiao really just refer to your pussy as a she? was this some sort of fuck girl slang?

beads of spit seep from the corners of your filled mouth and trickle down your chin like drool. your fingers slightly dig into her black pants as your gag reflex kicks in. feixiao pulls back just enough so her length lays heavy on your tongue, eagerly waiting to continue. “ i’m already half way there, hang in there.” she assures with unusual softness in her quivering voice, “ tap me once so i can keep going. “

and you do so, patting her thigh once. she starts again, shoving her cock back down your throat. your throat tightens on reflex and she whines, twitching. “ damn girl, now i’ll be almost there if you do that a—ohhhh. . “ feixiao grits her teeth, lolling her head down as you voluntarily close your walls around her. she feels stuck but stubbornly keeps thrusting, fucking your tight throat until she’s on the verge of cumming. “ th-the best—y-you’re the best. .sh-shit,”squeezing her eyes shut, sweat drips down to the tip of her nose,” i swear i wouldn’t n-need to talk and fuck any other girls if i had you. “ feixiao babbles, the cockiness in her voice is completely replaced with spiraling desperation.

the white–haired woman thrusts again and again, and stops suddenly as her fat, twitching cock fully squeezes through your throat. “ ‘gonna cum, b-baby. .” she holds your head still and thick, syrupy ropes shoots down your throat. heavy exhales escape from your nose while you swallow most of her load. “ good fuckin’ girl. . “ feixiao praises through a passionate whisper, and pulls away completely once you start to gag and choke. thank god for practicing your oral skills with your toothbrush routinely every morning and night or you would of left a colorful mess all over her dick. it’d be like one of those mainstream japanese shows where it shows the character vomiting. narudo z was it?

the bitter taste of her cum lingers on your tongue. it takes a minute for feixiao to stablize her breathing as she steadies herself on the counter. with a sigh, she stands upright and looks down at you with an easy smile. “ i’m not done with you yet. get up and gimme some sugar, yeah? “ she firmly pulls you up by the forearm, forcing you on your feet. feixiao hold your jaw between her thumb and index finger and maneuvers your head up at her. you cringe as her glowing ocean blue eyes bleed into yours. did they get brighter or some shit? you swear it wasn’t like that before.

she notices the squinty eyes and uncomfortable expression sitting on your face. “ what’s wrong, pup?”

“ it’s like i’m looking at a fucking blue glow stick in the dark. i see why people look the other way when they talk to you. “

feixiao pouts again, genuinely looking offended. “ okay, ouch? i can’t help the way my eyes are! i actually take pride in them. “

“ how unfortunate. imagine how awkward the sex would be if we do it missionary? if i can’t look you in the eyes while we fuck because of the risk of going blind, then that’s a hard pass for me. “ as if being a seasonal killer wasn’t already a hard pass.

“ haah? “ feixiao’s eyes go wide with surprise, “ don’t be like that! we can always work around that, i can have you on your stomach while i—“

“ i don’t want to hear it. just shut up and close your eyes before you kiss me. “

she grumps, complying with your demand. her disappointment almost instantaneously disappears by the soft caress of your perfect lips. feixiao’s tongue prod at the small opening between your lips and you allow her in with ease. a low moan resonates in her chest as the bitter taste of her seed in your mouth welcomes her senses. her tongue feverishly swirls around yours. she doesn’t care if the kiss is sloppy, she doesn’t care about her teeth occasionally clashing with yours—the only thing that’s on her mind right now is you, you, you.

once your chest start get to tight from the lack of oxygen, you lightly push feixiao away from your spit-coated lips by her biceps. even through the robe, you can feel the curled, firm muscle. string-like saliva stretch and dissipate between you and her. there’s carnal desire in her sky blue eyes as she peers down at you. “ my mouth and throst is feeling kinda dry right now, “ she whispers, gloved fingers unbuttoning your pajama shorts, “ how about you let me return the favor while i hyd–“

“ just eat me out. you already broken into my home and chased me and shit. “

feixiao laughs, sounding almost sheepish. “ i have no regrets doing it either, y’know. i also have no worries you’ll tell anyone too since that girl is still walking around scott free. “ well yeah, if you do tell, ‘pretty sure you’ll get fucking arrested too. she drops to her knees once she slides your shorts and ruined panties down to your ankles. the taller woman whistles with delight at the appetizing sight of your dripping pussy.

“ damn baby, did i get you this wet? “ her mouth salivates from watching your arousal slowly roll down your inner thigh.

“ no i just thought about killing myself. “

she raises a brow at you, spreading your legs out an inch wider. “ you dislike me so much that you’ll use that as your lie? “

“ yup. “

feixiao tsk, spreading your puffy folds with two fingers. “ my stubborn girl. even if i couldn’t get you to warm up to me so easily, at least she did. “ she laps up the trail and her eyes flutters at the delicious taste. without warning, she buries her face between your legs and give your bundle of nerves a spoiling amount of messy kisses. her tongue broadly licks at your soaked folds, collecting your sticky essence on her tongue. “ fuck.” you curse in a breathy voice, one of feixiao’s pierced fox ears twitch. she sloppily circles her tongue around your clit before sucking on it. feixiao sucks hard, causing your toes to curl.

feixiao grows hard again to the sounds of your labored breathing and shaky mewls. she drag her tongue to your fluttering entrance and acts as if she’s making out with you as her tongue teases your dripping hole. “ oh my god. . “ your hand flies down to grip her surprisingly soft locks. the thick tip of her tongue rushes a sloppy stripe back up your pussy. she kisses at the sweet spots that makes your knees visibly tremor. feixiao smiles smugly into your cunt, returning down to your drooling slit. she laps and obnoxiously slurps at the thick fluids dribbling out of you. her ministrations last for a few minutes until you become jumpy and sensitive.

“ best drink i had in a while, baby. mmhh. .” she mutters through hot breaths, sneaking a hand under her robe to stroke herself. she’s beyond excited—growing utterly impatient to fuck you dumb and reshape your insides into her home. no matter what insult you throw at her, how much you claim to dislike her; she’s not letting you go. you’re too good to let go. after all, she did kill for you. you droop your head to the side, a broken moan ripping itself from your raw throat as her tongue pushes inside. “ f-feixiao, fuckk—i. .” you stop yourself, swallowing back the words that’s threatening to spill from your glistening lips. feixiao lets out a strained sound similar to a moan and fists her cock until it’s angry red and swollen. you moan again at the vibration shooting through your heated body and fondle your breast with a clumsy palm. you pinch at the hardened nipple through your tank-top between slender fingers.

feixiao’s practically tongue fucking you, albeit hastily. your gummy walls squeeze her slimy muscle as you grind on her tongue. you’re becoming light-headed, hazy from the swelling pleasure clogging up your mind and body. “ feixiao, i-i want you—“ you blurt out impulsively. at this point, you just want to get fucked into oblivion, “ pl-please fuck me with your cock, your tongue i-isn’t enough. .”

she doesn’t waste a second to rip herself away from your pussy, not caring about the lower half of her face stained with your juices, and rushes up to her feet. she briefly steps back to remove the annoying robe from over her head and throws it aside on the floor. you finally get to see what she’s fully wearing under and it took every ounce of your being to not fall for her. a tight-fitted sleeveless turtneck top that shows off her athletic structure, sculpted milky arms, broad shoulders, fairly supple tits—shit! no matter what, you have to remind yourself that she’s a serial killer and a fuckgirl. she’s just a good fuck to finish off your eventful halloween night. “ anything you want, my pretty girl. jump. i’ll catch you.” you hurriedly step out of your shorts and undergarments pooling at your feet. with two hands clamped onto feixiao’s broad shoulders, you hop into her solid arms, wrapping your shaky legs around her waist. she secures you in her embrace, “ screw bending you over, i like this position better.” she comments, hoisting you up by the fat of your ass.

quickly, feixiao lines herself up with your throbbing pussy and guides you downward. you moan loudly as her girthy length fills up your empty pussy, stretching you out until you’re rubbing against her ripped jeans.“ nnghh. .s’tight, baby—damn, you’re so mine.” she growls possessively in your ear. you want to deny her but you can’t. the way she’s building up her momentum, jerking her hips sharply into your hole has you whimpering pathetically.

squuuish! slooosh! squuuish!

your slippery walls make it easier for her to go deeper and faster. you helplessly cling onto her for dear life, tangling your fingers into rivers of white tresses. it’s been a while since you been fucked good like this—the type of fuck that has you seeing constellations, drooling like a baby, and your mind made into someone’s home. “ m-more fei—fuck, moreeeee~” you babbled, bouncing on her fat cock without a care in the world. your slick smears the stiff fabric of her jeans and globs of it spill onto the tile floor. although strained, feixiao’s laugh rings through your ears. “ haha, fei? it looks like you’re g-giving into me~” she sing-songs, pounding your pussy with quick pistons of her ruthless hips.

feixiao’s curved shaft deliciously rub against your sweet spots, the swollen cockhead smack against your g-spot. you nearly scream as she rams right into it, “ yes! r-right there, pleasee, pleaseee! “ you’re sobbing, begging for a sweet release you’ve desperately been craving. she gives you a few lingering wet kisses on your hot cheek while she fucks you. “ you know i gotcha, my baby—hnngh. .! “

your pussy grips her cock like its afraid she’ll pull out and leave it empty. feixiao’s hips starts to stutter but she still keeps going on. you smash your lips against hers, kissing her sloppily and she gladly reciprocates back. your tongues twirl together, hot breaths combining into one.

“ mmph. . ! ❤︎ “

feixiao grinds her clumsy hips into the plush of your ass in a circular rotation, rubbing her twitching cock along your pulsating walls. a frothy ring forms near the base of her member that’s created by your slick and essence. you greedily suck on her tongue, tasting more of yourself. a guttural moan rumbles in her throat and she squeezes your ass. “ i never knew my girl was a freak. .” she breathes after you pulled away to moan.

“ mm, i-i’m not your girl. “ you slurred.

she chases after you and gently pull at your bottom with her fanged teeth. “ like hell you’re not. you already got me more in love, you think–mmh, after all of this i’d leave you alone? haha, no. shit. .i’m about to cum, sweetness. “

before you can say argue back, she thrusts hard into you one last time, forcibly provoking a surprised scream and an eye rolling orgasm from you. you and feixiao cum together in sync. “ t-take it all, baby~” she purrs, spurting her hot seed deep inside of you, painting your walls the color of her hair. you cling onto her, cumming violently on her dick. mixed, syrupy cum spills from your seeping hole and adds onto the growing puddle on the floor. foamy bubbles produce as she dumps the rest of her load into you. “ ‘full—i feel s’full, feixiao. . “ you whimper, shifting uncomfortably in her arms as a ball of hotness circulates in the pits of your stomach.

“ i know, pup. let’s stay like this for a little bit, i wanna hold my girl for a little while longer. “

you weakly smack your lips as she refers to you as her girl for the umpteenth time tonight.

“ wh-what did i tell you about—whatever makes you sleep better at night. .” you grumble, resting your chin on her broad shoulder while coming down from your high.

“ i’ll sleep even better now knowing that you’re mine~” you deeply frown at the smile in her smug voice.

fuck, what have you done? not only did you fuck two serial killers, but you have one of them on your ass.

please don’t make a continuation of this, i actually don’t want to end up in some threesome next year. thanks dumbass.

#halloween special #feixiao x reader #feixiao smut #honkai star rail women x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader

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lsunstreakerl · 7 days ago

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hello everyone I have tiny platonic max and george brainworms so here you go! 3k of the most unorganized universe ever LOL. gen, max POV, george POV, alex POV, christian POV, and an extremely brief nico POV. this is kind of in chronological order? it's little snapshots, don't think too hard about it.

"George."

Max shoves at his shoulder, hissing his name through his teeth. They both hate running, which means it's a team effort. It's also a terrible start to their day, considering waking each other up feels like more of a high pressure sport than the actual driving.

"Wake up."

He shoves again, and George throws an arm out, halfheartedly smacking him in the face.

"I'm up, I'm up. Christ, you're as graceful as a fucking tractor."

"At least I'm consistent."

"Consistently dickish."

George slides off his futon, fumbling for his water next to the bed while Max waits impatiently. He takes his time, and Max is sure that he's only doing it to be an annoyance.

"Your shoe is untied."

"No it's not."

George lowers the bottle, scowling.

"It literally is, I'm looking right at it."

Max is pointedly not looking at it.

"I don't see it."

"Because you're not looking—"

------

George has never hated anyone as much as he hates Max. Mostly because Max eats four eggs in a single sitting, has the most dorkish reading glasses he's ever seen, snores like a freight train, and is one of the greatest drivers he knows.

There are very few good qualities about him, limited to his relentless dedication to both of their training, his willingness to carry inside all the grocery bags in one trip, and his sharp eye for contracts. George is better with sponsors, so whenever they have new terms and conditions it usually eats up all of their limited spare time, taking highlighters to paper packets they'd printed out at the library that stack higher than their arms.

It's what they're currently doing now as they eat their way through an entire bag of grapes. Max is squinting down at a reworked section of George's contract, brows furrowed, and George has been attacking a predatory sponsor offer for Max with as much red ink as he can.

It seems like the perfect moment to bring it up.

"Alex is coming to London."

Max blinks, eyes still glued to the contract.

"Okay."

George crosses out another line, adding four question marks above it.

"He needs somewhere to stay."

"Is he bringing his own futon or are you both sharing? I'm not giving up mine."

That... was easier than he thought. He's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth— if Max has any issues, he's not voicing them. And Max always voices his issues.

Max looks up, properly confused as George's words actually register.

"Wait, he's not emancipated? Is he?"

George makes a face, rolling his pen across the table.

"No, his family is fine. He just needs to be closer to karting."

Max narrows his eyes, looking at George suspiciously. The effect is somewhat ruined by his giant glasses.

"And you're not going to fuck on the futon?"

George's eyes go so wide he worries briefly they'll pop out of his skull, right before he lunges out of his chair and tackles Max to the floor.

"No, you stupid git, we're not going to— what is wrong with you?"

He tries to whack at Max's head, but Max gets his knees up between them, bracing himself in a familiar way that George has learned means he's either going to get a foot in the gut or a headbutt so hard he see stars. Max chooses the foot.

"Oof—!"

George rolls off of him, scrambling a few feet to get a pillow off of the couch before wheeling back around, holding it over his head threateningly.

"Don't do it."

Max is still sitting on the floor, but George knows better than to think it's surrender— he has no issues trying to take him out at the knees, and he has a disturbingly good success rate.

He's frowning, hair rumpled.

"You better not do shitty handjobs either, unless he is bringing in enough rent to move us into two bedrooms instead of one. I don't want to listen to it."

"Max!"

George doesn't shriek, but it's close enough, swinging the pillow down as Max rockets to his feet, darting around to put the kitchen table between them.

"It is fair!"

"We aren't fucking!"

"Not yet."

He sighs, lowering the pillow. Max is doing the dumb thing where he doesn't say what he actually means, despite generally being about as blunt as a sledgehammer.

"Will it bother you? If Alex is here?"

Max glares.

"I do not care who comes in and out as long as they are helping with rent and don't snitch."

There it is.

"Alex isn't going to tell anyone. That would screw me just as much as it would screw you, so obviously I'm not bringing him here as some kind of sabotage."

There's a slightly wounded noise from the other end of the table, and Max is making eyes at him, the sad ones that make George not hate him.

"I would not ever think you are trying to sabotage me."

"I didn't mean it like that, Max. I just meant that he's not going to tell anyone."

"Because then they would know you are in love with him?"

George is back to hating him.

------

Max had known George for longer than he'd like to admit when he moved to London. It was less of a "move" and more of "frantic scramble", and he occasionally feels that it's a miracle he wasn't murdered by any of the people who decided to help a teenager and his trailer hitchhike to the UK. The same trailer is now parked up in the driveway, but it's been gutted on the inside in order to fit both of their karts and gear.

Well. Some of their gear.

The suits and gloves and helmets are frequently tossed around the flat, and Max has accidentally found himself trying to put on the wrong pair of shoes or rib protectors more than once. George never labels his things, sleeps like the dead, and has a personal vendetta against eating anything with protein.

Max has no idea how they're going to manage Formula 4, and thinking about Formula 3 gives him hives. It's a horrifying amount of driving, there's countless plane flights they'll have to figure out tickets for, and keeping track of the sponsor agreements has been a nightmare.

He's pretty sure one of his sponsors is a paper towel manufacturer.

Not to mention neither he or George are licensed to drive actual road cars, so they're playing with fire every time they drive the trailer.

It's a bit of a nightmare, and it's a lot for two fifteen year olds. George is behind him slightly, as far as their careers, which means they have to bulldoze their way through Max's obstacles before they're able to take things slightly smoother with George.

Max has only had to sleep overnight at tracks a few times— and it helps them know which hotels are best when it's George's turn, and which ones won't look too hard at unsupervised teenagers.

He drops his head onto the table with a groan. He's halfway through a sponsor agreement, George and Alex are passed out in the bedroom, and he's only mildly panicked about the utilities bill coming up. He can probably put off getting a new pair of boots if he patches duct tape on the hole that's started to wear on the inside of his right, and they'll need to take care of George's boots first, who's hit an uncontrollable growth spurt.

He's not going to be able to wear Max's things much longer, and Alex barely brings in enough support for himself. He and Max trade off each month who's going to panic about their finances, and it's a fairly good system. His phone buzzes and he winces, because it's probably the landlord, and Max isn't sure what he's going to tell her.

"This is Max Emilian."

"Hello Max, my name is Christian Horner."

------

Christian carefully sets the phone down, staring blankly at Helmut and their talent manager.

"He's managing his own contract."

Helmut breaks into a grin, eyes sparkling.

"No Christian, weren't you listening? His manager has no legs or arms to take phone calls with, and he doesn't travel."

"Yes, and I'm sure he can only be summoned on the full moon and has to be watered with the blood of virgins as well— how the hell has he gotten this far without a manager?"

Their talent manager presses a palm to her face, sighing.

"You're going to want to sign him, aren't you."

Christian can feel a weird pang in his heart thinking about the phone call— the scratchy, pitchy voice on the other end, the clear disbelief in his voice— but Max hadn't hesitated to agree to meet with them, not even for a second. He doesn't have much of a hand in the junior teams, but it would be impossible to miss the junior rocketing through the scene, especially considering nobody's seen much of his team. There's no big name backing him, just raw speed and a pair of racing boots Christian thinks might be entirely duct tape.

"Yes, I think we will."

------

"I like the looks of the tall one— from the UK."

Nico rolls his eyes, feet kicked up on the table.

"You're just biased."

Toto takes a slow sip from his coffee, gazing at the pages of stats in front of him.

"I have to agree with Lewis, I quite like him as well. He's got good speed."

"He's a tad young, Toto."

Nico is understating it.

"I do not mind pulling a few strings. The other fast boy is being watched by Horner, and Ferrari of course have their own."

Toto sighs.

"We simply have to scout younger than we have before."

------

"Uh. I did not know there were pre-racing contracts?"

Max is looking at them slightly suspiciously, which Christian thinks is probably fair, because they're not actually a thing.

"We don't hand them out often, but we really want you on the team later, Max. The pre-racing contract just means you'll go to our junior team when you're eligible, and in the meantime you'll get a stipend for gear upkeep and flights. We might ask you to do some development driving if need be."

The trick is making it sound real, like something that makes sense for a team to be doing, instead of a glorified allowance for the kid to buy new gear. And probably groceries. Christian doesn't even want to think about whatever his living situation is, because he's been doing some digging— Max doesn't have a team. It's him and his made-up quadriplegic manager, and a scraped together group of sponsors with the kind of variety he's never seen before.

There are local mechanics and grocer's shops on the list, for Christ's sake— there's a paper towel company on his helmet.

He's close with two of the other junior drivers as well, constantly around at the junior formula races that George William is at, and he's fairly sure Toto is eyeing the younger driver.

George is in slightly better shape than Max in terms of gear, but the difference is minimal. It makes Christian want to poke his eye out.

Their little trio is rounded out with one Alex Albon, oldest of the three but not quite as fast as Max. Christian wants Helmut keeping an eye on him anyway.

"So it's a stipend?"

"Exactly."

He politely ignores the relieved slump to Max's shoulders, because it makes him want to do unprofessional things like hug him. And take him to a restaurant.

The sport is making him soft— this is why he doesn't work with junior drivers.

------

Max tells Alex about his contract stipend first, so relieved he thinks he might cry. He's already thinking about where to put the first chunk of money— they'll be able to pay off their late bills, and get George pants that actually fit, and finally have a full fridge.

Alex nudges his shoulder gently.

"And maybe some new boots for you, yeah?"

Max blinks.

"That too."

------

The bull child does not immediately buy new boots. Christian's eye twitches. Max is the youngest person running around the factory by far, not counting any of the employees that have to bring their actual children on occasion.

Christian has made sure Max's badge that he scans for meals is secretly connected to a team account, and he's informed their dev team to make sure they're taking lunch breaks.

It was more like "For the love of God please make sure he's eating", but it had gotten his point across.

Daniel is bouncing a stress ball off the wall of his office.

"Boss, I wasn't aware we were running an orphanage."

Christian ducks under the ball on his way to the desk.

"We're not. He's a talented driver, and I'm going to want him in that seat."

"I hope you've got engineering working on booster seats."

He rolls his eyes, sitting heavily in the chair.

"And don't call this an orphanage, I'm sure that's not the case. We just can't figure out who his parents are."

Daniel looks so surprised that he doesn't catch the ball, and it bounces dejectedly across the floor.

"Wait, seriously? You don't know? Mate, he's a Verstappen. Like an evil nepo baby."

Christian blinks, running through his catalogue of notable names—

Oh.

Jos Verstappen had made motorsports news with his eventual arrest and charges, and it would've been early in Max's karting career. It's not surprising Max doesn't race with the name, considering the connotations that come with it.

But if he's not managed under Jos, who the hell...

"Who the fuck's raising him then?"

Daniel's eyebrow twitches. It's one of his tells, the one that means he's about to lie to Christian's face.

"Must be a relative or something."

Right. It's quite possibly the least reassuring thing he could've said— and he's taking a clear side here, trying to somehow protect the younger driver.

Which means Max probably does not have anybody raising him. Which also means—

------

"Toto."

"Christian."

"You're taking on the William's boy, right? George?"

Toto leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together.

"Don't you have your own junior drivers? Why are you trying to poach mine?"

"I'm not trying to poach him, I'm trying to make sure they're not living out of their damn karts on the street."

At Toto's raised eyebrow, Christian elaborates.

"Max Emilian is actually Max Verstappen, and I've spent the last few weeks becoming increasingly confident that between him, George, and the older boy Alex that there is not an adult around. At all."

"Is that why you've given him an allowance?"

Christian winces.

"I was thinking that you should also do that. I can't up Max's again without him getting suspicious, and there's only so much reasonable intervention for a team to make. But he keeps spending it on the other two."

"Don't tell me he's still in the boots."

"He's still in the boots."

"My God."

------

"Max! I have another contract!"

Alex shoves his head under the pillow. He's trying to sleep, and George had been in a meeting with Williams all day before he'd caught the train back to their flat. He and Max are probably going to spend the next few hours— and following days— going over the paperwork line by line. Alex pays a manager to handle his work.

He's not sure what it says that Max and George are doing so well without one.

Max's hair is still damp, long at the edges. Alex needs to cut it soon, even if wrangling Max to stand over the sink and let Alex take a pair of scissors to his head goes well approximately never. It helps if George sits on the edge of the tub and becomes the victim to Max's thoughts on track layouts while Alex tries to focus.

His own hair is a mess, because Max and George are completely hopeless with the scissors, and he's learned it's better for him to give it his best shot with a hand mirror and a dream. They spend most of their time under balaclavas anyways.

He shoves aside his thoughts on his own career as he sits up, because he's genuinely proud of George, and he wants him to know that. His hair is grown out and starting to develop a curl pattern, and Alex often finds himself twirling strands of it absentmindedly around his fingers when they're on the couch together.

Max peers at the papers. His reading glasses are shoved up into his hair.

"Oh! You have a pre-racing stipend also!"

Alex takes a slow breath. He's not sure what the hell is going on with Max and George and their fucking racing allowances, but it's ridiculous. It's not a real thing, he knows it's not a real thing, but it's been their saving grace lately, the only thing keeping them both in racing, and Alex is petrified that if he breaths on their delicate house of cards wrong, the entire thing will come crashing down.

He couldn't do that to George. If he did do it to George, Max would probably take a hammer to his skull.

"Oh, I make more than you do."

"What?"

Alex bites his lip to avoid laughing.

"With Williams?"

Max rolls his eyes, glasses dropping to his nose as he takes the packet from George.

"George William in a Williams, that is fucked up mate. It's like if I was Max Bull in a Red Bull."

"Max Bullshit, maybe."

Alex winces at the ensuing scuffle. He should probably get in the middle of it— he's the oldest, and Max fights mean— but he'd caught a bony elbow to the face once and has no interest in it happening again.

They'll get it sorted out eventually.

#ficlet #they're so tiny #they're tiny and they hate each other #but also not #but also try to strangle each other #but also use their funds to take care of each other #are you picking up what I'm putting down #max stages an intervention when alex and george start to get older and closer #'I don't care if you fuck but you're offsetting the rent price to get a 2bed flat so I don't have to hear it'#they buy a cheap one #he ends up hearing it anyways #tiny gax verse

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retiredteabag · 2 months ago

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Unknown Rivals

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: There was only one thing worse than being paired with Sukuna for an important school project, and that was realizing the slacker somehow had a higher class standing than yourself.

Tags: Academic rivals, enemies to eventual lovers, type A reader, anxiety, college!au

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - next part

One thing was for sure about the past weekend, and that was the fact that your advisor knew not to assign you any future classes with this monster of a man.

You had three finals coming up, one of which came in the form of a presentation. And you had yet to practice said presentation and your partner scheduled that particular event at the most inconvenient of times. The whole endeavor was drawing a lot of your current anxiety. Of course, you didn't ask to reschedule.

You had looked over the combination of slides in your PowerPoint, waiting by the day for Sukuna to finalize his speaker notes, and everyday your distress only grew.

It was not uncommon for the dunning kruger effect to take hold of the arrogant men in your lectures. He may have brought up concerns about your own public speaking ability, but you have yet to see the man speak in full sentences before anyone.

Over inflated head, self-important, Oscar Wilde level egomaniac-

The class's presentations were split into two groups; the first half of the class would present on Thursday, and the latter half, on Friday. You were one of the unfortunate teams that would go first.

The nerves were getting to the point of being sickening every time you passed the auditorium. The hollow heartbeat swelled in your chest and you felt nauseated. Too soon, you would be in there, on that stage, stood beside that arrogant prick.

Being one of the first groups to speak might be better than having to be last; just get it over with... still, it wasn't great for gauging the audience, competition, or topics.

You were to present before the faculty, classmates, and employers looking for interns.

Maybe Sukuna had been correct. Yes, you could be "anal about this stuff", sure, but you had put too much money into your education to not put in equal effort. Since when was it a crime to try?

For the fifth time that week, you looked over his slides...still, no speaker notes on the later half.

He did look like the type to wing it. Read the SparkNotes and assume he could sound intellectual with the insertion of pauses and emphasis on basic information. For a normal assignment, a professor might be non the wiser, but for something as important as this final? He needed to know his stuff.

And what then, if he was asked a question? What if he didn't prepare? What if he crashed and burned? The smoke would affect you too.

That's why you find yourself waiting inside a private study room in the library that Wednesday. You had arrived right on time to the room you had reserved and were unpacking the contents of your bag when a pack of giggling students retched the door open.

There was a moment of silence that passed between all before you cleared your throat, "Sorry...I reserved this room..." the group looked around at each other, making pouty faces.

Eventually one of them spoke up, "Do you really need it?" They all shared a pitiful look, "Theres a lot more of us, we really need the room..."

You stood there for a moment, expecting someone in their friend group to have a speck of sense. It quickly became clear that none of them did, "Right... well, I'm sorry but I need the room too."

"Every other room is reserved by a group, this room is just you." One of them pointed out, speaking far too loudly to have the door open to the library stacks.

"I'm here to work with my project partner." You huffed, as if that made a difference. The room was yours! There was no way you were going to back down. You would be presenting tomorrow and needed a space to practice. "That's why I reserved the space."

They make faces as if you have committed some kind of hate crime, throwing their arms in the air in offense. "Your partner isn't even here, can't we just use it? You could literally go anywhere else."

The group nods at the boy who spoke up, fully supporting his argument as if he just slam-dunked you with a killer 2AR. You sigh looking down to check the time on your phone. If Sukuna wasn't here, you might as well just leave. Who’s to say he’ll come anyway?

You weigh your options, he hadn’t responded to your email this time either.

"Pretty sure it's you who can go anywhere else."

He wasn't loud, but his voice rang with conviction. Speak of the devil. You look away from your watch and observe his effect on the group.

Sukuna pulled the door back wider, he stood at least a head taller than the largest among them, and while he was never found with a smile on his face anyway, he looked particularly harsh in this moment.

"Can't we just-" one of the girls leaned into Sukuna, grabbing his bicep, "take the room?" She smiled sweetly, tracing an index finger over his arm, "There's a lot of us, you know?"

Sukuna practically jolts off of her, tearing his arm out of her grasp, and making a twisted face in the group's direction. "Get offa me." He moves through the rest of the students, tossing his bag onto the table with a bang.

You make brief eye contact before he watches you turn to see the pack of freshmen resolutely standing in the doorway. He swings back, rolling his eyes, "Now get out."

There wasn't any room for argument in his tone. The lot of them huffed and griped but made no real fuss as they crossed their arms and whispered insults. The door slowly slid shut.

You plug your laptop into the adapter, muttering, "Good to see you've finally showed up."

"I didn't have an attitude when you were late to the library."

He just stands there. Unzipping his bag on the ovular table in front of the projector.

You look at him, recalling that day well, you want to snip at him again but you cant help the short, somewhat shocked, laugh you let out.

He walks to the other side of the room, pulls out his notebook and looks at the screen. "So are we practicing, or what?"

"Oh, we're practicing, all right." You mutter to yourself.

You bring out the sheet from the first week you met in the library. It outlined the topics that each of you would need to cover. You open up the PowerPoint and turn to look at him, comfortably sitting down.

"We should probably start with introductions."

"We roleplaying this?" He sat with his legs spread on the swivel chair, arms crossed.

"You were the one who asked to practice." You point out, motioning for him to get up. "At the presentation, the students will have nametags, but we should still open up with a greeting so they know who to call on for questions."

He sighs, lifting himself from his seat like it took a great effort, he stood beside you, looking to his mock audience, he points to himself,

"Sukuna, Ryomen." Then he turns to look at you, jutting out his thumb in your direction, and as if it is the most natural thing in the world, calls out your full name.

It was so strange, you got caught searching for words. You had no idea he knew your name. If there was one thing obvious about Sukuna, it was his blatant dislike of his peers. It wasn't uncommon to see him rolling his eyes, or avoiding the fellow students that followed him around all the time.

"Right, okay, we'll smooth out that part later, for now, lets focus on the first few slides." You lean down and point out the screen of your laptop, "I'll go first. I’ll give my thesis as a roadmap for my information, then you can do yours."

You turn your face to the side, expecting him to still be standing behind you, listening to your explanation, but pull back in alarm to find his face right beside yours, he was focused on what you were pointing out on the slide.

You jolt back, taking a moment to regain your thoughts, "…I’ll get into my half and allow for a segway into yours.” He follows your motion, standing straight. “We'll have clickers.” You continue, “Let's just say that whoever finishes explaining the slide will be responsible for clicking to the next one, okay?"

He was so watchful, it was unnerving. Had he always been like this? Seeming bored, he gives you a nod. "Sure."

The following two hours flew by. It was actually nice to not have to dance around issues, you could be confrontational and know he wouldn't get offended. He was well versed in his area of the presentation, easily paraphrasing what he wanted people to grasp from his slides. It wasn't until he sat down, asking you to present for him that you started having issues.

"What?" He leaned back in his chair, spinning slightly, "Give your speech, do it like I'm the audience."

"No." You huff, "not if you don't." You point at him.

"I'll do it, but you go first, you we're the one who wanted to start us off anyway." He’s brought this on you somewhat out of nowhere.

You look around the room, feeling suddenly anxious. You had practiced both you and Sukuna’s parts to the point of near memorization. You had recorded your speaker notes and listened to them before bed nightly. You knew what to say. But you were feeling suddenly…shy?

"Don't act like I've put you on the spot," He waves a hand, "We're here to practice."

"I know." You look at your shoes, feeling small, stupid. It was embarrassing to have him watch you. He just screamed judgment. You huff, "Fine. Turn around."

He looked almost insulted at the notion. "What? No."

"Would you just do it?"

Assuming he wouldn’t complain, you wait for him to turn. He just squints at you,"I knew you worried over nothing but do you have stage fright too or something?" Sukuna leans down, elbows on his knees.

You didn't really know what the issue was. Performing on stage, you could probably disassociate long enough to not feel so uncomfortable, but here, alone, with only his eyes to see you, it was different somehow. "No...maybe... I don't know."

"Well." He shrugs, "Now's a great time to shake off those nerves. Go on, I'm sure you have all your information down."

He motions your way, and you force yourself to go over your work, starting from the top. You try to focus on your cadence, intonation, and scripted pauses from your recording. You turn to look in the corner of the room, mimicking the intentional body language you had meticulously practiced in front of your bathroom mirror.

You spent the time expressing what you would say rather than pretending to teach him. Having already used the room for hours, you simply focused on the main points of contention, explaining your slides with practiced ease. Once you finished, you moved onto his starting slide and cantered passed him to one of the opposing chairs.

He did not take your cue, getting up to present, however, opting instead to open his body language, "I woulda thought you had a script in front of you."

"Like you said, I actually know my information." You snark, huffing out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Starting to become tired and stressed at the idea of the upcoming exams.

He simply rolled his eyes as the suggestion that he might not, "You can't make eye contact."

He was speaking as if stating a fact. Your brows furrow, having been doing exactly that what he said you apparently couldn’t do. "When you're presenting, you don’t look at me" He continues. "It's weird, you have no problem with watching people but when you know that someone is watching you, you can't seem to acknowledge it."

Your mouth twists into a mock smirk; he reminded you in that moment of your previous first-year psych student roommate, who genuinely believed themself a genius among feckless plebs.

"When we're on stage, we won't be making eye contact with anyone really-" You were about to defend yourself before being interrupted.

"See. You’re doing it again. You can't look at me." He narrows an accusing finger in your general direction. Moving to stand, he grabs the clicker off the table and shifts into a teasing tone. "Here's how it's done."

You were still somewhat reeling from him pointing out a habit you didn't even know you were taking part in. Wondering suddenly if others had noticed it and if so, why nobody had said anything.

You felt suddenly irked and wanted to prove to him that, no, you very well could make intentional eye contact with someone making a point to notice you.

It was a grueling task, and, as you would find out, your brain seemed to be sending every 'I am uncomfortable' signal to your body while attempting it. You couldn't seem to stop swallowing, voluntarily blinking, or forcefully making your hands stop moving.

All these small tasks took up some serious mental effort but despite that, you were still able to take in his oratory skills.

For a man so lacking in the interpersonal communication sphere, he presented with poise, confidence, and knowledge on his subject. He paced himself well and it almost seemed as though his speech was conducted in a way that made note-taking ideal. He seemed aware of his space and motioned accordingly.

When he wasn't gesturing or looking back at the slides, he was looking at you, as if he was lecturing you with the information you had tirelessly slaved over when studying his speaker notes.

And on the topic of speaker notes? He totally strayed from them! He didn't even follow the same roadmap that you had seen nights before. You hated it, but none could deny, he was still a compelling speaker. You couldn't make a sensible complaint because of how undeniably well he spoke.

Besides, what kind of anal, control-freak, dictator of a school partner memorized someone else's speaker notes?

The issue arose in you suddenly that Sukuna doesn't need to make an effort like you do. He doesn't care to, he simply has the confidence in himself. He seemed to hold no anxiety and no care for how he was perceived. The only issue was, these types often flunked out of school, and here he was thriving.

While he wrapped up his slides, he crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly looking your way.

You think back to your previous interactions, Sukuna must see himself as so terribly generous, allowing you the time of day to practice with him. He likely thought the concept stupid. And worse? His efforts didn't ease your nerves, and they did not qualm your worries.

Your thoughts are cut off by the brisk striking of his knuckles on the table. You look up at him, "Get out of your thoughts." He slides past you to his bookbag, putting away a notebook. "We're in good shape."

You aren't sure what to say. You don't feel like you're in good shape but you don't want to discourage him, not that you thought it possible for him.

Before he slips out of the door, you turn to him, "I'm going to send you a list of mock questions so you can prepare some answers." He wouldn’t look at the email, you were sure.

He snorted a laugh, "Good to know you were paying attention."

And he was gone.

Sukuna was not terribly fond of school, that is, in the typical sense. He did enjoy learning and was dedicated to his area of study, sure, but being around people? He found it exhausting.

You hadn't stuck out to him, but it was hard to not notice you. You sat in the front of every single lecture, pristinely on time. You were one of the students that the professor felt inclined to call on. And he saw you in the library, often.

It was not until he had been enlisted as your partner for the practicum that he started to see why you had taken his notice.

At first, he shook it off, thinking himself crazy, but after three sessions in the library, it was clear what it was. You reminded him of someone.

You were just like his nephew.

Wednesdays and Fridays in the library, you would be rambling on about something, going over the expectations for the project draft, explaining the sources you wanted him to utilize, and he would be listening, sure, but he would be seeing Yuuji.

The little boy was a little shit, and despite being wildly more extroverted that yourself, he too was nervous about everything.

Sukuna was like a second parent to the boy, and as much as he would complain, he wouldn't change it for a thing.

It was weird, to see the kid in you. At first he stocked you up as a try-hard, but in reality, he assumes you're just scared. You really are just like that little boy.

You did not sleep well last night. You got to bed early but you simply couldn't slip away. And when you finally did pass over into restless sleep, you were promptly woken up by your own hyperactive consciousness.

You checked the clock each time. Had you really set that alarm? You would go over your script and the more you did, the sicker you felt. You craved more time to practice, you craved for your body to stop jittering with nerves, you craved to just fall asleep damn it!

After a few more hours of waking only to have found rest in literal minute increments, you arose. Dressed yourself and began to get ready.

Everything around you spoke of a good day, the weather was perfect, you looked great, and you had all the rehearsed information at the ready.

Still, internally, you couldn't reach peace.

Once you arrived at the auditorium, you spotted your professor and retrieved your nametag from him. Sukuna was no where to be found which only added to your panic. You paced in the box, the private room for speakers, behind the theater, and repeatedly touched your hair.

Even with potential hours to go, you were feeling overwhelmed, you were at the point of wishing you could just go first and be done with it all.

You were squeezing water out of a thin paper towel and placing it on your neck when the door creaked open.

You flipped to him, "Where have you been?!" You hissed.

You had plenty of time before you would be introduced but you couldn't hide the frustration in your voice.

Sukuna was dressed in a Mandarin suit, he looked perfectly relaxed and the notion only fueled your anger. "I had a class..."

He comes forward and sets his (backup) flash drive on the circular table in the middle of the loge. "Well, why didn't you say that before?” You make an exasperated face and feel your heartbeat quicken, “And where is your nametage?"

Even you could hear the hysterical twinge in your voice, you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. He didn't say anything, just raised his brows while reaching behind to retrieve the very thing from his back pocket.

Embarrassed, you tear the makeshift cloth from your neck and rush to sit on the couch. You scrap the towel to shreds before disposing of it.

"Everything's in order, we'll be alright." He didn't come to join you on the sofa but watched from the side of the box. He didn’t sound comfortable but he certainly seemed to believe his own words.

"It doesn't even really matter." You had been telling yourself this very thing for weeks when someone took notice of how concerned you were. Not a part of you believed it but you hoped the phrase would ease your mind anyway.

"Oh, it matters." Sukuna laughed.

You wanted to be mad, but in all reality, he was just saying what you knew, him lying would not have comforted you. He started to come over now.

"It just isn't so important that you need to kill yourself over it." You rolled your eyes, knowing what he was saying.

"If we bomb, then that's that, so what?" He tossed his hands up slightly.

You looked at him, and without even needed to study his face, you knew he meant it. He believed it. ‘So what?’ You roll the words around in your brain, shaking your head. You couldn't have stopped the words from escaping.

"I hate people like you." You mutter it, undertones of a laugh there, nothings amusing. "Seriously, I hate how you can just say that."

He isn't mad. The bastard grins, "Oh, trust me, I know."

And then he’s leaving the room. You don't have much time to wonder about what exactly he was doing. You hadn’t thought he would be upset at your declaration. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been thinking when you said it.

What had he meant, that he knew? I guess a guy like him just assumes everyone who isn’t perfectly relaxed at all times is a suck up.

When he returned, he was carrying water bottles and complimentary fruit from outside the auditorium doors. This time around he does come sit, right next to you.

"Have some."

You don't feel thirst but you still accept it when he cracks open the bottle for you. He places the fruit on the table before you both and takes a drink himself.

"I didn't really mean that, I'm just jealous of how you live." He's leaned back and his suit pants clung to his legs.

He purses his lips and shifts his head from side to side, smirking, Mmm, I don't know, I think you actually meant it."

You both chuckle, the nerves are still getting to you. "I still hate you for what you did earlier this semester." You lighten your voice but glance his way to show you do mean it.

He turns his head now, brow raised but still comfortably leaning against the back of the couch. "What did I do earlier this semester?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes. It takes him a moment before he sees you’re not gonna reply, "No, what did I do?"

"The whole beginning of this project." You muse. He still isn't catching what you're saying so you motion with your hands. "Our meetings, in the library? You never told me you were top of the class."

“Should I go out and advertise it?" He clearly isn't getting what you mean.

"No, Sukuna, it sucks because you never told me that you were well versed in the class material.” He still doesn’t seem to grasp the issue, “I’m saying, it made me feel stupid to find out that the guy I thought I was tutoring was actually competing with me."

"It made you feel stupid?"

"In a way. Like you were mocking me."

Sukuna frowns, he leans onto his knees. "I wasn't mocking you."

"You say that." You poke his shoulder and he looks at you quizzically.

In all actuality, it was nice to be able to tell him these things, you didn't feel that anger anymore. As of it had rolled off, only shame lingered.

"I never minded our sessions in the library. I guess it made things easier, you're so..." he reaches for the word,

“Anal?” You recount when he had called you that very thing.

He rolls his eyes, "Organized."

"Thanks." Your voice is low, sarcastic.

He shrugs. Some of the nerves have left you, but suddenly you're hearing voices in the auditorium, one specifically telling people to file in through the doors, and you know you'll be speaking soon.

He turns to look at you again, legs parallel to your own, his palms flat on his thighs, "You care too much about what others think."

He's doing that thing, that I'm-going-to-make-intentional-eye-contact-with-you-and-it-will-be-an-unspoken-comeptition-to-prove-you-can't-do-it thing.

"Maybe you're too carefree." You offer silently.

Soon, someone will come through the doors before you with mic packs and you'll have tape on your face. Your heart pounds. "You should feel okay without having to prove that you’re worthy of validation from others."

He reaches forward for his water bottle, voices can be heard above you, to your sides. People are taking their seats. "You're a smart girl."

And for the second time this week, he says your name and it feels just as strange as it had that first time. "And you didn't have to prove it for me to see it."

And with everything else occurring in this moment, you feel the most upset about the fact that the obnoxious Sukuna Ryomen might just bring unshed tears to your eyes.

You’re silent as you stand, brushing unseen dust off your clothing. Sukuna is stood there by the door that leads to the area behind the stage, his hand is outstretched.

You look around frantically, turning to find his clicker that he must have left on the table, but before you can start searching, he scoffs.

He leans forward and grabs your arm, spinning you gently. He robotically shows you his hand again and places your own in it.

Oh.

He tightens his encompassing palm around your own and makes a tugging sensation to pull you ahead of him through the door he held open.

People in the tech crew were setting everything up and called you each over to get your mics on.

When he lets you go, your hand twitches involuntarily.

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his hand. And for some reason, you couldn’t think of much else as you got mic’d up, despite the ever growing voiced in the audience.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags: @blueyesuguru @monimonster57 @p1nkfl0wers @giasssslife @csolya @esmedelacroix @sukubusss @v1sque @clp-84 @snowsilver2000 @blueemochii @bitchyfestivalbouquet @rodeorun @chosolovrrr @minethy

(if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either because your blog is new/blank/empty where you need to check your privacy settings.) :[

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thatbloodymuggle · 11 months ago

Text

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light.

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true.

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy.

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait.

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock.

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown.

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence.

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears.

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less.

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched.

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms.

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace.

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child.

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands.

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would.

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders.

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers.

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile.

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall.

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again.

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands.

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

“I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway.

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer.

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone.

You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again.

“Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his.

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips.

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch.

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely.

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head.

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips.

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up.

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating.

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away.

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach.

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you.

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples.

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you.

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze.

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

“The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion.

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

“If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice.

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least.

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information.

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier.

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is.

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls.

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows.

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind.

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris acotar #mastermind

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peachyparkerr · 3 months ago

Text

spring into summer | art donaldson x female! reader

or loving art even if it hurts <3

based off the song by lizzy mcalpine!

tags: yearning, fluff, angst, no use of y/n, stanford!art to atlanta!art, love "triangle", kissing and stuff, maybe not 100% true to the lyrics might even be out of order, hopefully this is not too long and not too many mistakes lol i dont want to proofread, i made my own challengers timeline because i can, challengers will always be on the mind <3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n i hope you enjoy <3 plz be kind to me

Spring into summer, and the winter's gone I try to hold on to it, but the current's too strong Somebody finds me in the state I am Love you like I mean it when I know I can't

it’s a rainy day in late february at stanford. it’s cold, the fog’s coming in thick over the trees, and it’s hard not slip on the ground. all outdoor sports practices have been canceled or moved inside, and it’s probably the worst day to not have an umbrella or a rain jacket. art’s team practice had been canceled but he still wanted to work on his serve so he decided to practice at the indoor courts, he needed to blow off steam after being around patrick and tashi so much these days. their relationship is really weighing art down these days, so getting in the practice instead of taking a break seemed like an obvious time killer, he just hadn’t realized it was pouring this much. there was no way he was going to make it all the way to his dorm without being majorly drenched, so he decides to tackle the rain for the shorter walk between the indoor courts and the library and wait it out there. he’s definitely drenched when he enters the building, and it could be worse so he accepts it. the library’s fairly empty but he can’t quite decide where he wants to sit and if he actually wanted to do any studying at all, and then he sees you.

you, who is sitting cross legged in one of the big window nooks, headphones on with a book and laptop in your lap and in front of you but long forgotten as you watch the rain fall. he's seen you around before, but knows nothing about you, but you've always caught his eye. and seeing you right now watching the rain, in your own little world, is making his heart skip a beat more than it usually does when he sees you. suddenly, however much it sucks for him to always be around his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend that he secretly has been pining for all this time doesn't even matter to him. he doesn't even know your name, not yet at least, but he decides that he needs to. his legs are moving on their own accord as he makes his way to sit opposite of you in the nook.

he doesn't say anything at first, doesn't even ask if it's okay to sit there he just does even tho there are many open spots, and after what feels like forever of just looking at you looking out the window, you finally look his way.

"hi" he manages to speak out, voice just barely over a whisper.

"hi." you say back taking off your headphones. you have a bit of a confused look on your face but otherwise friendly. he'd never even heard your voice before but he thinks it's the most wonderful thing he's ever heard.

"i'm--" he goes to introduce himself nervously, but you interrupt him.

"i know who you are, art." you point out all soft and sweet and now he's embarrassed that he doesn't know who you are.

"you do?" he's flushing and running a hand through his wet hair.

"of course i do. we had a class together last semester and this one. you're also on the tennis team, right?" you laugh and say with ease. he's even more embarrassed now that he hasn't realized that he's had class with you this whole time but doesn't know your name, but the fact you're still giving him the time of day is encouragement enough for him to not run away right now.

he asks for your name and you give it to him with a smile and shake his hand. your hand fits perfectly in his, and he thinks your name is like a melody. the conversation that strikes up between the two of you is casual and easy, and you make him laugh in a way he hasn't in awhile. you tease him for not bringing an umbrella on the rainiest day, and he shakes his wet curls in your face like a dog just so he can hear your laugh again. if he could bottle up the sound and save it forever he would. but you offer to share your umbrella since as it turns out, you don't live that far away from him, and who is he to say no?

you guys huddle under the shared umbrella as you walk through the pouring rain, your hands brushing each other, making him feel all sorts of things. he's been in love with tashi all this time even if she can't be his, but something about your smile and simple kindness has him thinking just maybe he's not doomed at love. maybe he's getting ahead of himself, but as you guys reach his place and he insists on making it up to you for sharing your umbrella, he can't help but think this could be something good. who cares about tashi and patrick anyway?

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Hold it against me, cool to the touch Nobody knows what it's like to be us Somebody finds me in the shallow end Love you like I mean it just because I can

it starts slow. art can't quite decipher where his feelings for tashi end and where his growing ones for you begin, but he knows that he's drawn to you in a way he's never experienced before. he needed a distraction but thats not just what you are, what you're becoming to him, he thinks.

so he seeks you out more. finds a way to sit next to you in class. shares his notes with you, not that you need notes from him but he offers anyways. notices when you're feeling tired in class so he suggests getting coffee or a bite to eat after. sometimes you say yes, but other times you say no. you know he spends a lot of time with tashi duncan, star tennis player of the whole university, and sure she's dating his best friend, but you've heard the rumors. art's cute, but you don't want to get caught up in whatever that is.

but art's not just cute, he's sweet and effortlessly charming. he somehow just knows when you don't bring a drink to class and has one for you. he seeks you out in the library even though you know he's not really a scholar, and he offers to share his umbrella when its raining, which he always remembers to carry around now, even if its not raining hard, and even if he knows you have your own.

he's spending more time with you than he is with patrick and tashi. they don't really mind, even if part of them wonders what's going on with him. them not really minding has art feeling weird, because part of him still wants them to care, he wants tashi to care. but the rest of him is just glad that he's getting you to give him a chance. when it comes to you, the rest of the world seems to fade away for him.

before you even realize it, you've started to say yes to him every time he asks you to do something. you don't wait for him to seek you out in the library, you ask him to join you. you "forget" your umbrella just so you guys can share his. he takes the opportunities presented to him to shyly keep an arm around you or hold your hand, and when you don't tell him not to, he's never shy again.

the two of you are dating, even if it's not explicitly said. it's june now, and it seems like everything's really good and he's barely even thinking about tashi anymore. you're a welcome distraction but you're also everything and more to him. he wants to make you his, officially, and he's scared out of his mind to put a label on it but nothing would make him happier.

he plans this nice picnic on a rare sunny day. after indulging in some of your favorite snacks, he's laying on his back on the blanket, a baseball cap you got him on his head blocking the sun from his eyes, and you're on your stomach but resting your head on your hands on his chest, and you guys mindlessly talking about something. the sun's shining down on you so perfectly, the wind in your hair. he has no idea what you're saying at this point because he just can't stop looking at you. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he longs to be with you even if you weren't with him. he feels so warm inside and out when he's with you.

he moves hair out of your face and he's interrupting whatever you're saying before he even realizes what he's saying.

"do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asks suddenly, still moving hair behind your ear. this wasn't part of the plan he had in mind today but here goes nothing.

"what?" you question with a confused and disbelieving laugh. he realizes what he's asked but he doesn't take it back, just smiles at you.

"i want to be your boyfriend, so i was just wondering if you'd want to be my girlfriend. like officially." he repeats, a little shy, a little nervous, albeit anticipating what you have to say.

"hmm like officially?" you tease, sitting up a bit, but smiling at him nonetheless.

"yea, like officially." he says simply, sitting up too, and gazing at you with that stupid grin he always has when he thinks knows he's getting what he wants.

you answer him by turning the hat on his head that you got him backwards and kissing him, soft and sweet. it's not the first time, but its definitely better than all the other times. he cups your face and kisses you back slow, happily and deeply. you hold a hand over his, your touch making him melt as usual. maybe everything is going to be fine.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Taking a picture of all the people close to us Head below the surface, almost never certain of the truth (mm) I'm always, forever, runnin' back to you (you, ooh) Runnin' back to you (ooh) Runnin' back to you

you had become a plus one to art's place in his little trio. he had made it a point to include you whenever it felt like it was something he thought would be good. patrick was kind to you and was always willing to spill art's secrets to you. tashi talked to you, was friendly enough, but it's not like you were friends outside of this. you didn't have anything in common outside of your boyfriends. you didn't need her approval, but sometimes it felt like art did. you didn't want to question it, at least not out loud. it was just weird when you would go to his matches and after talking to you he'd ask her what she thought. maybe it's 'cause you're not a tennis player. that had to be the only reason. right?

but he was glad to have you come anyways. when you'd join for hangouts he he always said he played better when you were there. with you, he could hold his head high on and off the court. he wasn't always sure of himself in life or when playing tennis, but if he was almost certain of one thing it was that his heart beat for you. he kissed you like you were the oxygen filling his lungs before every match, always running to wrap you up in his arms as soon as it was over, win or lose. he always assured you you were his good luck charm, his best girl, the most important thing to him besides tennis. and you believed him. even when sometimes it felt weird to take pictures of just him and patrick and tashi when celebrating a win. they were important to him, you understood that, you just wanted to feel important too.

patrick and tashi weren't perfect individuals or a perfect pair but they fit. when he was away you didn't think it was that weird for art and tashi to get lunch just the two of them. art would relay to you that patrick and her sometimes fought, mostly about tennis, but other stupid stuff, and lunch was just a way for him to check in on her for his best friend since he couldn't be around. it was the truth. at least what he believed it was.

but when her injury happened, and patrick and her broke up, patrick's presence in art's life disappeared too. art wouldn't explain so you didn't want to pry more. you and art were still together, but this pit in your stomach started to form the more he was there for her during this tough time. he started being late or missing plans with you because he wanted to help her get back on the court or she didn't want to go to her physical therapy but obviously needed to so he'd take her to make sure she went.

one day, you and him were sat in your room. him on your bed, you leaning against your desk, keeping a distance from him. he wanted to reach out to you and pull you into his arms, make it all go away and show you that you were the one he wanted, but he knew he'd been messing up. you guys were supposed to do stuff today, but that didn't happen because he was with her.

"she had a rough day. i just wanted to be there for her." he said, defending himself after missing yet another hangout with you. he did feel guilty. he loved you. more than he could really put into words, but this felt like something he needed to do for her.

"i get that, i was just really looking forward to our plans. and you didn't call so i was just waiting around." you explained. you weren't mad, just disappointed, again.

"i promise we can go tomorrow. just you and me, i'll make it up to you." he pleaded, standing up and grabbing your hands. "i'm sorry. it won't happen again." he rested his forehead against yours, urging you to look at him. he believed in what he was saying. he knew he was pushing you away unintentionally, and he hated it, he just didn't know how to fix it sometimes. he just hoped it would work itself out and he didn't have to lose you. after all, he always came back to you at the end of the day.

"okay, tomorrow then." you sigh out softly, squeezing your eyes shut and squeezing his hands in yours three times as if to say the three words that seem impossible to say these days. he brings your hands to his mouth to adorn each individual knuckle with a kiss, before he presses a lingering one your forehead and hugs you, trying to make it all better.

and the next day, he follows through with his promise. but something has shifted. you both can't quite put your fingers on it, but it's there hanging over your heads.

he doesn't miss any more hangouts, but the amount of hangouts that get planned decrease. it's clear that tashi's not going to play tennis again. and she probably does need someone to lean on, more than she'd like to admit. sometimes she's seeking him out, but more often than not she doesn't have to because he's going to her anyway. you can't even hate her because it's not even her fault. it's not her fault that your boyfriend would do anything for her, the way he's supposed to do for you. the way he used to.

he loves you, and you love him, but it doesn't mean love is enough. not when this is happening. he'd never break up with you first, so you have to rip off the bandage.

it's february again and its raining out when you meet him outside his room. he doesn't exactly know why you asked to come here, or why you won't come in despite how wet you guys are becoming, but he has a feeling that it's not good.

"it's over, art." you say simply to him. his heart sinks in his chest, and he feels like he's going to throw up.

"why?" he asks, even if he knows the answer. he's getting drenched by the rain, the clothes he's wearing and the hat you got him sitting on his head probably getting ruined, but at least maybe the rain will conceal how he's about to cry.

"I just...can't anymore." you sound defeated and sad. he hates everything about this. he knows he's hurt you, but he doesn't know how to fight for you either.

"i'm sorry." that is all he can say, resisting every urge to pull you close and make this right.

"me too." you sigh out before leaving.

everything about this sucks. he knows a lot of it is his own fault. but he just can't do anything about it. so he goes back inside.

by june, him and tashi are already officially dating. he wishes she was you sometimes, often wonders how you're doing. but he doesn't reach out. he wanted to be the one to tell you that him and tashi were dating, he felt guilty about it and for some reason couldn't stand the idea of letting you find out through the grapevine. but he also knows you probably wouldn't want to hear from him anyway. so he doesn't.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You're always gonna be someone that I want (oh) We have too many years between us If I could jump into the past, I'd only change one thing I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave And now I'm here forever, runnin' back to you Always

two springs and summers had passed since the spring that you broke up with art. yet there's parts of him that are still holding onto the year you spent together, to the first spring he laid eyes on you in the library. him and tashi have been together for almost all this time. she never was able to play tennis again like she used to, but she'd become more than his girlfriend, now she was his coach. she shaped him into the player he needed to be to win the high profile titles he now holds. it wasn't that they weren't happy, the whole tennis community knew them to be a rising power couple, but the dynamic was different than it was with you.

tashi was beautiful, determined, rough around the edges and strategic. everybody knew her and wanted to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her light. he'd stood by her in her darkest time and she'd been standing by him at every win. pushing him harder than he'd ever been pushed towards greatness. she knew he needed tennis, especially if he couldn't have you, even if he wouldn't admit it. she wanted the greatness she couldn't have for herself for him and she was grateful to be able to be part of tennis and his life in this way. so sometimes it was easier for her to pretend they could love each other the way they should. the way he loved you and the way she loved tennis and patrick.

which brings him to the atlanta open. spring on this part of the east coast was nice and art was trying to enjoy it even he's still been feeling cold. his grandmother had died a couple months ago, leaving him her engagement ring, telling him to save it for someone special. those two things were weighing on his mind pretty frequently, especially because when you'd heard the news you reached out to him to give your condolences. you didn't have to say anything, but you were always the bigger person. it was one of the few times you and him had spoken over the years since you broke up. every single time fleeting and politer than he knew had earned and god did it make him miss you.

you, him, and tashi weren't at stanford anymore so there was no reason to see each other anymore, but the passing moments of inevitable running into each other on campus were things he looked forward to. but now you're all graduated, he hadn't seen you in person in about two years and ever seeing you again seems like it would never happen. his only choice is to focus on his skill, winning this open and the next, and tashi. he just wasn't sure if tashi was the special person his grandmother was talking about.

he had actually been looking for tashi when he headed down to the hotel lobby. he could've sworn he saw her sitting by a window, across from patrick, but not really wanting to deal with that he turns his attention to the fan that's called his name to ask for his autograph. when he turns back she's gone and he decides to get a drink anyway to wash down the long day he's had. he orders and that's when he now spots you on the other end, suitcase in hand and ordering the same drink he knows you always have.

art doesn't even know how long he's been frozen in place, taking you in, until you notice him too. you smile and before either of you notice you're sitting next to each other at the bar. you're the same, but different, better, even, if that was even possible. he's always thought you were perfect. he knew he loved you for all that you were before, but he's sure now more than ever that he's never stopped.

by pure coincidence, you're passing through on a work trip and are being put up by your company in the very same hotel. the more the two of you talk he doesn't think this is coincidence, he's convinced its fate. that the universe wants the two of you to be together. when some hair falls in front of your face as you laugh, a sound he hadn't realized he's missed so much even if it's been on replay in his mind all this time, he instinctually moves it behind your ear. he's barely realized he's done it until you're looking at him all wide eyed and he pulls his hand back. suddenly you're pretending to be tired, telling him it was great to catch up and to give tashi your best, and trying to leave.

his heart drops to his stomach at the possibility of losing you again and before he can convince himself it's a bad idea, he's begging you to meet him here tomorrow after your conference and after his match.

"i don't know...what about tashi?" you voice your concern and he hates that you're hesitating but he understands.

"i have no right to ask you to do anything for me, but i promise that if you meet me tomorrow i'll figure it out. i just can't let you go like this. not again." he's pleading with you, grabbing your hand. your skin is cool to the touch but he's burning up inside at the chance to be with you again.

you don't know if you can trust him, and you're not sure if you can handle being hurt by him again, but you've always had a soft spot for him, so you agree anyway.

his heart's racing as he returns to his own room. seeing you is something straight out of a movie, and he knows he's making no sense but he'd messed up once and he rather take a risk now then hate himself for the rest of his life. when tashi returns with patrick's cologne on her skin and asking if that was me she caught a glimpse of earlier, her and art both know its over. they'll keep it out of the press and if he'll find another coach if that's what he wants. usually they'd fight each other on this but they know they can't go on like this.

the next day he waits anxiously. watching the clock tick away. it's only ten minutes after the time you agreed to meet and he's scared you're not coming. he's bouncing his leg as a coping mechanism until you're walking in. he's nearly falling out of his seat as he stands up to meet you.

"you came." he stammers out taking you in.

"i wasn't sure if i should." you admit quietly.

he nods and momentarily takes off the baseball cap he's wearing to run a hand through his hair nervously. you know it's the one you gave him in college but you don't point it out.

"i get it. but i'm glad you came."

"so...you wanted to talk?' you ask awkwardly, unsure of how to navigate this. he nods again and suggests walking outside.

it's quiet at first, even as your arms brush each other's as you walk. but he stops suddenly, turning towards you, knowing that if he doesn't say anything now he might never.

"i'm sorry. for everything. " he begins to say, you try to interrupt and tell him it's been a long time but he doesn't let you continue, needing to say this. "i need you to know that i regret everything. that it's over with tashi, that it has been long before today. i had this idea that i needed her and i could still have you and i was wrong. i never needed her and i wasted so much time thinking that when the only person who was ever it for me was you. "

art's words are earnest and the tears in his eyes match the ones in yours.

"i don't hold it against you. i just wish you would've fought for me. for us. all i've ever wanted was for you to see yourself the way i did." you sniffle out. art's always had this sincere side to him, but it's been so long since you've seen it that it's just a lot to process.

"i know and i'm sorry. i'm so goddamn sorry that it took me losing you to understand that i've never wanted anything else than to be yours. " he cries, cupping your face, his thumbs wiping the tears there away.

art realized too late that he should've fought for you. you, who was always so patient and kind and accepting of who he was in and out of tennis. you, who was soft and thoughtful in ways he didn't think he deserved and taught him you can want things and get them without being so hard on yourself. he was the one who was lucky to be in your light, and he couldn't even blame you for leaving. he just wished he hadn't pushed you away, that he wasn't simultaneously an ass and a coward for letting you slip through his fingers. but this is him fighting for you now, and he was praying to a god he wasn't sure he always believed in that this was his chance to make it right.

"if you'll have me, i want to fight for you. i'll spend everyday for the rest of my life fighting for you, proving to you that i want you, that...i love you. i can't lose you again." he's still holding your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes and hoping that you can understand just how much regret he's been holding in, that you'll say something that'll make him stop shaking right now.

you bring a hand to move some hair that is stuck to his face from under the brim of his hat. he leans into the touch as you rest your hand on his own cheek, shivering at how it feels after all this time.

"you're always going to be someone that i want." you say softly.

and that's all it takes for him to surge forward and press his lips to yours. from that point on, he never feels cold again. and by next summer, his grandmother's ring is on your finger.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Summer is falling, it's a distant dream If I turn around, you're runnin' back to me

a/n i kinda hate this but i needed to write it! plz be kind! likes and reblogs appreciated!

#art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #josh o'connor #zoewrites<3 #luca guadagnino #challengers 2024 #challengers fic #zendaya #tashi duncan #lizzy mcalpine #spring into summer #challengers movie #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson angst

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honeylations · 1 year ago

Text

KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: Minjeong, your best friend (and secret crush), lied to her parents about having a girlfriend. You didn’t expect that YOU were the girlfriend. Let’s see how your heart plays out.

Warnings/Notes: loser nerd Minjeong, g!p Minjeong, eventual smut, best friends to lovers

A/N: more loser Minjeong because she’s so cute

‘Sorry, will be a few mins late!’ Was Minjeong’s last text before you found yourself sitting alone in the Uni’s library for what was supposed to be exam prepping.

However the ‘few mins’ that Minjeong said ended up being almost half an hour and you were close to ditching the plan for a matcha latte, but the taller girl touched your shoulder which almost sent you into cardiac arrest.

“Jesus Jeongie! Don’t sneak up on my like that!”

“I’m sorry for making you wait! Something happened at home so I couldn’t just leave” she sighed and sat beside you.

She was wearing her oversized Minecraft shirt and baggy jeans. Complimented with her old and extremely dirty converses that you told her to throw away. Her short hair was tied into a mini ponytail and her adorable black glasses were taped together in the middle after she accidentally got hit with a basketball in the face.

Oh your adorable nerdy Jeongie :(

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked softly once seeing her stressed state.

She nodded cutely. Like a little puppy. But that thought went out the window when she rested her arm around the back of your chair, leaning closely so no one else would hear what she was gonna say.

Your stomach started to do flips from the close proximity. Her big eyes looked into yours desperately, like she was asking for help.

“Please don’t get mad, Y/n-ie”

“What’s wrong Jeongie?”

She sighed once more and looked away for a split second before meeting your eyes again. My God, she was so hot.

“I may or may not have told my parents that you were my girlfriend…”

That’s when you lost your voice. The air around you felt thick and there was only one way you were able to respond.

You punched her face.

Minjeong grunted and fell out of her seat from the sudden blow. She held her cheek and turned to you in shock. “What the hell Y/n!”

“Are you kidding me Minjeong? What the hell happened for you to lie like that!”

She stood up, still holding her pained cheek. “Both of my sisters got girlfriends leaving me stuck like some virgin loser with no life! What else was I supposed to do? My parents are on my tail and I couldn’t let them know that I’m still refusing to have some human interaction while playing with legos”

You threw a small tantrum. “So what, we just hold hands for the rest of our lives?”

“Look, I just want you to come for dinner tonight. Have some simple conversations with them and it’ll seal the deal. They won’t bother me anymore after”

She was making it harder for you to say no. You wanted her so bad as your girlfriend since you first met but not in the situation she has currently put you in. Letting go of her face, she walked up to you and gently rubbed your shoulders.

You looked up and felt the butterflies again. Why couldn’t the girlfriend thing just be real instead?

“Please Y/n-ie. I really need your help”

Well that was enough to convince you. Talk about being whipped.

“Alright Jeongie. But you owe me big time”

“Yes yes of course! Thank you!” She cutely celebrated and pulled you in for a tight hug.

“I’ll send you my parent’s address. Come at 7 okay? You can even sleep over my dorm afterwards”

“That sounds nice. I haven’t slept over your dorm in a while”

She shrugged. “We get too busy nowadays”

“Yeah we do. Do I have to dress nicely?”

Minjeong looked up to think for a moment before nodding. “Might as well. I’ll dress nice too”

“Alright. Let’s start studying”

You stood at the front door and rang the bell, quickly adjusting the short tight dress just in time for Minjeong to open the door to greet you.

You found yourself stuck in a trance as your best friend revealed herself in a black button up and slacks. The top 3 buttons were undone to reveal the chain necklace you gifted her ages ago.

Minjeong wasn’t wearing her glasses either and her short brown hair wasn’t tied in her usual ponytail. Her hair was free and looking so fluffy as she ran her fingers through it.

“Y/n welcome!” She gave that ever so handsome smile while hugging you.

Her perfume was stronger than usual, almost intoxicating you.

“Jeongie you look so…”

“Different? Yeah I know. It feels a bit weird” she giggled and looked at her own outfit.

“I was gonna say hot but yeah that works too”

Her lips parted adorably. “You think so?”

“Don’t get too happy now” you winked as she allowed you inside and to the kitchen where her parents and two sisters were seated at the table.

“Just go with the flow. It’ll be okay” she whispered in your ear before gently holding your hand. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Jang Y/n. Y/n, these are my parents and my two sisters Chaewon and Taeyeon”

You bowed and flashed a bright smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you all!”

“I didn’t think our little JeongJeong was able to pull such a pretty woman” Taeyeon smiled, making you instantly blush.

You felt Minjeong’s hand tighten around yours and you noticed her jaw clenching. Chaewon picked up on it aswell and began laughing.

“Oh relax Minjeong, no one’s planning to steal your girl. Tone down the jealousy”

“I’m not jealous. Come on Y/n, take a seat” she said and pulled the chair out for you to sit on.

She took her own seat afterwards and returned to holding your hand again. “Also guys, please don’t overwhelm my girlfriend with too many questions okay? I’m sure she’s tired already from her uni lectures today”

“Oh you study Y/n?” Her Dad asked with crossed arms as if he was studying you.

“Yes sir, I’m a pharmacy student” you answered proudly, earning an impressed reaction from the family.

“Is that so? May I ask why?”

“My dad currently owns a pharmacy and I hope to open my own after graduation”

“Awe you’re such a sweetheart” Minjeong’s mom cooed, holding your free hand. “Let’s not bother her any longer, honey” She whispered to her husband and then smiling at you again.

“Let’s eat now”

And that’s how the remainder of the dinner went. Chaewon and Taeyeon asked a few more casual questions here and there to get to know you better and surprisingly the 3 of you clicked. You and Chaewon love mint chocolate ice cream whereas you and Taeyeon used to play the violin.

That’s when the two older Kim sisters brought out expensive wine for you to share and then you got a bit carried away from the delectable taste.

Chaewon was slightly worse. Only two glasses in and she was passed out at the dinner table. Taeyeon was more responsible, being the eldest sibling as she took reasonable sips of the liquor. You just chugged every pour and your red cheeks were enough of a sign for Minjeong to confiscate the glass from you.

“That’s enough, Y/n”

“Awe man” you whined and let your head fall onto her shoulder.

“I didn’t expect the dinner to end like this. Sorry Mom and Dad. I promise you she doesn’t usually drink so carelessly” Minjeong smiled sheepishly at her smiling parents

“Sometimes a uni student needs their break” Her mom giggled.

“Thanks for introducing her to us, darling. She’s a gem you need to take care of. If I find out you made her cry, I’m hunting YOU down” Her dad joked, earning a nudge from his wife.

“Thanks guys. It’s time to take her home. I’ll visit you guys again next weekend once exams are over” Minjeong told.

She stood up with you leaning into her arms like a sleepy toddler.

“That sounds lovely. Do bring Y/n again if you can”

“I’ll ask her. Have a goodnight, I love you both”

You woke up during the car ride back to Minjeong’s dorm, feeling a bit dizzy from the wine. “Jeongie?”

“Hey, silly. Didn’t expect you to wake up so soon”

You sat up in the passenger seat and started scanning the view of your supposed to be nerdy best friend driving. She looked so attractive?

She had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear stick, unintentionally displaying the rings on her index and middle finger.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re sleeping over my place remember? Unless you changed your mind. I can drive you to your place instead”

“No no!” You quickly panicked, surprising Minjeong a little.

“Cool. You feeling better?”

The effects of the alcohol were coming back as your eyes did their own thing again, starting from your best friend’s Adam’s Apple down to her unbuttoned shirt and finally…her crotch.

You remember accidentally walking in on her changing out of her pants and seeing quite an impressive size underneath her boxers but that was when Minjeong’s dick was flaccid. It made you wonder the size when hard.

“I’d suck your dick until my jaw dislocates” You randomly blurt out.

Minjeong’s eyes went wide, almost sending the car flying with how hard she slammed on the brakes. “W-What?”

The wine was giving you more confidence than needed so you decided to continue by running a hand from her knee up to her crotch and giving a gentle squeeze. Minjeong’s hands tightened around the wheel as she continued driving.

“Y-Y/n, we’re gonna crash”

“You don’t understand how badly I’ve wanted you, Jeongie” you husked, hand never leaving her bulge.

“Y-You want me?” She cutely squeaked, eyes darting from your hand to the road.

“Always wanted you. The faster you drive us, the faster you get to fucking me, baby” you whispered hotly in her ear and kissing the lobe after.

“Fuck”

You found out that same night that Minjeong didn’t like taking things slow. You were both already naked on her bed, her hand wrapped around your throat while she kissed you like she was starved.

She quickly sat up and fished out a condom but you snatched it from her and threw it away. “I want it raw, baby”

“Do you just let anyone fuck you raw?”

“No, just you. You’re all I ever think about”

Minjeong cursed under her breath before kissing you again, already pushing in her cock inside your desperate cunt. Her lips moved to the space on your neck that her hand wasn’t covering, sucking and biting while your back arched.

“Oh my god, Jeongie”

She smirked into your skin and began moving her hips. “My pretty cock sleeve”

Her words, her actions, her tone were beyond your expectations. A loser nerd girl who was also fucking hot under the sheets and knows how to use her dick? There’s nothing else you could’ve wanted.

“Ah!” You gasped at a particular hard thrust, pushing Minjeong’s head closer to your skin that she continued marking.

“Fuck Princess, need you to be mine” she growled and the hand she had on your throat had pinned your wrists above your head, letting you see her biceps under the dim lighting and her hot face, shining with sweat.

Her chain was dangling just above your nose as her movements became rougher. She bit on her lower lip and released a muffled moan that got you clenching.

“Shit. Gonna fucking cum, Y/n-ie”

“Yes please, Jeongie! I want to be yours”

She leaned down to kiss your nipples and then your lips. “Gonna claim you, okay baby? Not only will you be my girlfriend but you’ll be my personal cum dump too. How does that sound?” She smirked evilly, watching you nod.

“Yes yes yes! Fucking have me. I’ll be anything you want!”

“Good” Minjeong simply said before flipping you over with your ass up.

She held your hips and began fucking you from behind like a mad dog, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a mark. You cried into the sheets as you fisted the ruined blanket, looking to the side and seeing the lewd reflection in the mirror.

You could see Minjeong’s lips parted as she destroyed your insides, almost setting them on fire. “Fuck, gonna cum in this delicious pussy of yours, baby”

You chanted a bunch of “yes”’s as the bed started ramming into the wall. Your eyes rolled back and you released a scream, feeling yourself explode your cum all over Minjeong’s big cock, but she continued to pound into you chasing for her own release.

“Fucking take it, bitch” she panted, feeling the familiar tightness in her abdomen. “Holy shit, Y/n!”

You moaned at the warm feeling of her cum fill your insides, certain that it was going to trickle out of you. Minjeong pulled out and kissed your right ass cheek before staring intently at the white liquid escaping your abused pussy.

“I came a lot for a virgin” she chuckled, making your head whip so fast.

“You’re a virgin?!”

“I thought it would be obvious with, you know, the Minecraft shirts, my Roblox merch…”

“You’re a virgin but you literally fucked me like that?!” You said breathlessly.

“Pleasing a woman doesn’t seem so hard. Porn sites are quite educational too” she winked and laid you beside her.

She pulled the sheets over your sweaty bodies and kissed your crown. “So…does this mean you’re my girlfriend now? Like for real?”

You looked up at her and giggled. “Yes it does”

“Yayyy” she scrunched her nose, personality returning to the loser Minjeong you fell in love with.

“I need to build my Lego soon” she added.

“It’s literally 4am”

“I said what I said”

#gxg #wlw #aespa smut #aespa #kim minjeong #minjeong smut #minjeong x reader #winter x reader #winter #winter smut

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yanderemommabean · 2 years ago

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Oh, oh, oh! Yandere virus, but it one day coming into school, the girls who normally bully you are acting strange. When you see them in the hallway, you are expected to be laughed at or shoves to the ground. However, you didn't expect to be shoved against the wall as they stare you down with a dangerous and lustful glint in their eye, telling you about all the plans they have in store for you. They force you to wear matching clothes and make sure everyone knows who you belong to and not to even try anything. Maybe you're forced to live in the house. Bonus if the other hold you down as the ring leader eats you out, as the others tell you how cute you are uwu

“Ah ah ah. You aren’t going anywhere” A voice chirps in your ear. You wince, sighing as the three surround you once again as class is dismissed and everyone heads to the dorms for the evening. Honestly, if you were perhaps a bit stronger, a bit less self conscious, you might spit in their faces and make a run for it. Sadly, you aren’t some badass (and admittedly, one dimensional) character and are frozen in place as they wait for the others to leave.

They don't intervene. They know better. These young women have power, wealth, and beauty in their arsenal, and aren't afraid to use it to get what they want, and to silence anyone who complains. Phoebe, Sadie, and Naomi, all from powerful families who more or less run this college and the town. You don't doubt they paid the administrators and dean to get into this place, while you had to work hard and prove yourself.

None of that matters at the moment. Currently, Phoebe was twirling her fingers in your hair like you two were close friends or even dating, smiling almost wickedly at you as her eyes, usually hazel, now with an odd pink ring, stare at you like you were some prey about to be eaten and devoured. Usually they just shove you around and make fun of your clothes, but today…Something's off. Very very off.

“Isn’t she so cute you guys?” She says, sickly sweet, you want to say mocking but no, it's like there’s something more flirtatious with it. “Oh definitely, I just want to sink my teeth in her, you know? Make her whimper” Naomi adds on, hand to her cheek as she stares at you like one would a puppy being precious. Oh god hearing that made you think they were about to hurt you or humiliate you in some way.

Sadie just sighs, not in your direction, looking over her shoulder to make sure the halls were clear, and once they were truly empty of everyone else, she made sure the grip on your wrists were tighter. “Listen up. We have some new rules set in place, and you, adorably obedient as you are, are going to follow them”. Oh wow. The audacity. Then again you never really put up a fight so, are they really wrong? What other choice did you have anyway? If they wanted to, they could make your family kicked out of town and their jobs nonexistent. It’s best to just grit your teeth as best you can.

While you tried to listen, Phoebe made sure she got closer, her hand on you as well, but more exploring, sliding up and down your sleeve and trying to dip her fingers into the hem to feel your wrist, dragging them up and down softly as Sadie began to speak again. “You’re ours. Simple as that. No more avoiding the lobby when we’re there, no more trying to get little study dates away from the school library, no more trying to hide from us”. “I'm sorry what-” “Ah ah, she’s not finished cutie” Naomi says with a gentle touch slowly sliding to your waist, her cold fingertips acting like they wanted to slide under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, her brown eyes also having that odd pink ring in her iris. “Go on Sadie, she’ll be good and listen. She always is”

You felt your cheeks grow impossibly hot, words failing you as all three of these girls began to more or less feel you up and tell you that…That you were theirs? Whatever that could mean? Sadie just sighs, more playful this time as she cups your cheek and makes you look at her, the same weird coloration in her eyes. “You’re ours. No more private study dates, no more drabby clothes, no more avoiding food when we’re in the commons or cafeteria, just a lot more rules and a lot more dress code for you. Tsk, I can’t tell if I want you in a skirt, or if I'd stab any bastard who’d look at you when you wear one. Maybe some cute pants? Ugh they’d still lay their eyes on you either way, makes me want to just call mom and have the banks foreclose their houses”.

“Please Don’t-” “Ah ah, don’t even try it. You’re ours, if we want to punish people for looking at our puppy, we will” Phoebe comments, her fingers moving to hold your hand and give the top of it a gentle kiss. “Speaking of puppy” Naomi mentions, nodding her head towards the others, and before you can blink you’re turned over, face to the wall. You hear Sadie murmur something as she rummages through her bag for a moment, and you feel her hands slide around your throat before something clicks behind your head, and your eyes widen in horror.

“There we go! I made sure it wouldn’t be too tight, the guy who made it for me was such an artist about it, I love it! If he would’ve said no, you know I’d have his business ruined” She mentions casually, getting a few soft giggles in agreement.

“Here sweetie! Have a look at how cute you are when you show that you belong to us” Naomi says, handing you her phone as a mirror. You feel weak and shaky as your fingers come up to touch the bright pastel pink leather, a metal heart in the center pressing against your throat. You reach around to feel the back and feel a harsh shock to your fingers, making you yelp.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't try and take it off! It was so expensive but I got a cute one to work as a shock collar. Shower safe but anytime you take one, one or all of us will be with you, so you won't have to worry about taking it off yourself. We’ll talk more about the rules later in our dorm”. You shiver, unable to think of how to talk. What in the fuck could you even say? You just had a designer shock collar put on you by your bullies! Who are now acting like you were their chew toy or pet no less. “O-our dorm?”.

Phoebe nods, gently stroking your hair “Yeah, duh! How else will we keep a better eye on you? Cameras are fine and all but I prefer to make sure you’re warm with one of us sharing a bed with you. Plus, it’s easier to kiss you good morning faster”. “K-Kiss?!” You almost shriek, only for Naomi to softly hush you with a finger to your lips. “Now now, don’t get loud! We don’t need that just yet”. She pouts, hearing her phone going off and checking the time. “Well, we have to split for now, I have a dinner with mom and dad. You two take her to the dorm and tell me how she acts! Don't do anything more pretty please? We said we’d share her”.

You don't get much out before Naomi heads off, Phoebe and Sadie gripping your arms a bit too firmly to lead you, talking back and forth like you weren’t making a practical death march down to their dorm room.

Oh God what’s going to happen once that door is shut?

-Mommabean (Hiya! Sorry for lack of smut but I am proud I wrote this much at least lol. If you beans want i can do a part two! Wanted to try and flesh this out before anything too intense ya know? Anyway I hope you like! Lemme know if you do!)

#Poly yandere #yandere clique #yandere female #yandere virus #yandere virus au #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #Female yandere #my ocs #Mommabean #yandere bully #yandere bullies #really #female reader

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lavnderwonu · 5 months ago

Text

book lovers | wen junhui

pairing: bookish!jun x bookish!fem!reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

rating: mature

summary: working at your campus library and attending classes gets kinda lonely, until someone comes along and changes that.

warnings: contains smut (!!!), meet-cute, jun is tooth rottenly sweet (yes! that’s a warning!), semi public sex (in a library), unprotected sex, kinda sorta a quickie(?) idk its sorta rushed, bigdick! jun, size kink, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms.

mini playlist 🎵: into you by ariana grande, little bit by lykke li, feel you by okayceci

word count: 2.3k

author’s note!: AHHHH this was so much fun to write. i literally spent so much time daydreaming about this whole plot & the characters. im a little women enthusiast & a classic book lover, i know im a nerd! also i will always always find an excuse to write fluff. i just love love love writing cute shit! im sort of a sucker for it. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG TOO LMAO but as always, i appreciate any feedback, & i hope you enjoy! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

“So… you’re assignment is to read the passage, then write a minimum 3 page essay whether you agree or disagree with the author’s viewpoint.”

Your professor gestures to the board behind him, emphasizing how important it is to acknowledge.

“Due by Monday, I won’t be giving any extensions. Class dismissed.”

“Y/n.” Your friend nudges you, as you currently have your face buried in your book, totally ignoring the lecture. “C’mon, class is over… did you even hear what the assignment was?”

You shut your book, Little Women, a book you’ve read numerous times but you never got sick of. It was a million times more appealing than hearing your literature professor ramble during a lecture.

“Yeah… some three page essay.” You remark, tossing the book in your bag. “I gotta hurry, I have a shift at the library for a few hours. Text me the assignment, okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.”

You quickly grab your binder & notebook and walk out of class, headed for the library.

You’re about halfway there, until someone passing by bumps your shoulder, knocking your things to the ground.

Crouching down to pick them up, you hear somebody shouting sorry! in the distance as you mumble under your breath, “Doesn’t anybody watch where they’re going? Jesus…”

You’re gathering up some papers that fell out of your binder, until you spot an extra set of hands suddenly helping you, and a voice saying, “Let me help you with that.”

You look up, eyes locking with a tall, cute brown-haired boy, whom was now handing you your papers and notebook.

“Sorry, I couldn’t just walk by and not help. People can be so rude.” He smiles sweetly, handing over your papers he picked up. “I’m Jun, I’m in your literature class.”

“Y/n, and thanks, it’s what I get for not paying attention in lecture I guess.” You joke, finishing putting your stuff away as you both stand.

“How is Little Women?” Jun asks.

“I’ve read it before, it’s one of my favorite— wait how did you know that’s what i was reading?”

He laughs. “I saw you reading it in class, you have an incredible attention span. Quite impressive actually.”

“Last week, you read Jane Eyre, and during lecture Soonyoung came in late and the professor got mad, then they both got into this whole big argument, but you didn’t look up once, just kept reading. I’ve been watching you.

“Watching me?” You must have a confused, creeped out look on your face, cause the way he responds next makes you laugh.

“No, No, I don’t mean that in a creepy way like I’m watching you, I just mean that I noticed you, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

A cute boy like him noticed you?

“Laurie proposes to Jo and she says no, even though she’s still in love with him!” You exclaim, explaining your favorite book to Jun, as he holds it in his hands. “I cannot believe you never read it before.”

He shrugs, “I don’t read all that much.”

“We’ll, I think you’ll love it. The story is very enjoyable, and it’s not hard to read, which is surprising since it was written so long ago.” You continue.

“…Would your love for this book have anything to do with the fact that in both movies Laurie was played by Christian Bale, and Timothee Chalamet?”

“No,” You fail at attempting to hide your grin. “But it’s an added bonus. Christian Bale is a very underrated Laurie in my opinion, by the way.”

“Okay, I’ll read it,” Jun gives in, examining the book thoroughly and thumbing through it. “When do you need it back?”

“Whenever,” You say. “I don’t need it back by any certain time so you can take your time with it, and really enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know I will.” Jun smiles.

“Make sure you put these all away before you close up tonight,” Your library coworker tells you, as she gets ready to leave for the night. “Apparently the boss said she wants them out on display up front for tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll do it right now, before I forget,” You reply, retrieving the small stack from the counter. “I have to run those returns upstairs to reshelve.”

You walk over to the front table just as you hear the door open.

“We close in thirty- oh! It’s you.” Your coworker says, making you turn around to see who it was.

It was Jun. “Y/n! Your boyfriend is here.”

You smile at him as he walks over to you, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to do something tonight, maybe dinner… a movie?” He says, as he now towers over you & kisses your forehead. “You’re already dressed cute,” he makes note of your outfit. “I like that skirt.”

“I’m working right now…” You sigh.

“That’s okay, I can wait. I only have…” Jun checks his watch. “Oh, twenty five minutes now.”

“Whatever,” You smile as you chuckle at him. “Just go sit at the desk, don’t mess up anything.”

“Oh, before I forget, I brought your book back.” Jun starts as he sits down, reaching into his book bag.

“There’s no way you already finished it. I gave it to you yesterday.”

“I just wanted to leave you some notes in the margins for you.” Jun says, handing the book over to you.

You flip through the book, seeing how it’s littered with sticky notes and tabs, marking the different pages.

“You’ve read this before…” You glance over the notes written on a page.

“A few times.” He smiles as your eyes meet his.

“I thought you didn’t read much?”

“What is much…?”

You lean in closer to him, kissing him. “You’re unbelievable.” You smile.

“You liked it? I was wondering if you’d be mad if I nearly defaced your book.” He says, with a chuckle.

“No, no, I couldn’t be mad,” You smile, playfully running your fingers through his hair. “Besides you didn’t actually write in it, if you did, that might be a different story.”

You kiss him one more time, “Well I have some stuff to finish really quick, wait here?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’m sure I can find something to keep me entertained for a few.” Jun remarks, picking up a book that was in the return stack on the counter.

You finish up the rest of your display, and the returns you had to put away (…even unfortunately stealing the book that Jun was occupying). Your coworker had left for the night and it was time to close up.

“Okay, that’s it for the night.” You announce to Jun, starting to gather up your things.

“All done?”

“Yeah, I think that’s- shit!” You realize you still had stuff to put away upstairs. “I forgot to put these ones upstairs.” You grab the few books.

“Come with me?”

“You won’t be okay by yourself?” He asks, obviously joking with you.

“Cmon, it’s eerie when it’s so quiet, just cmon.” You grab his hand and nearly pull him to the elevator.

“These few go over here,” You lead him over to the fiction section. “And these go… over here…” You start walking to the next aisle over.

You reach up to attempt to place the last book on the highest shelf, but you’re just a little too short.

“Can you help me?” You laugh, turning to the 6 foot man standing close to you. “I’m too short for this.”

Jun laughs with you, grabbing the book from you. “Where’s it go?”

“Right next to that one, with the red cover.”

He places it on the shelf, “Is that the only one?”

“Yeah, that’s all of them.”

Jun moves to stand in front of you, conveniently trapping you between him and the bookshelf behind you. You mentally thank whoever designed the floor plan in the library to make the aisles so small.

He moves closer to you, nearly pressing himself against you, so close you can smell the cologne he has on.

“You know I can’t help but realize… we’re all alone here.”

“Yeah… I know, it’s almost-“ You start, as you're cut off with him kissing you.

You moan against his lips as his hands slide up your cardigan sweater, and he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jun…” You moan, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, kissing your lips again.

“Yes, very much.” You whisper, his face still close to yours. “But we can’t do this here…”

“Why not? There’s nobody here…” Jun whispers, as he kisses your neck a few times.

“The cameras, there’s cameras around here..” You say, then you grab his hand. “Cmon, in here.” You lead him down the hall down to one of the study rooms.

You enter the dimly lit room, and shut the door behind you, but not before realizing how secluded and somehow intimate these rooms somehow are. Okay… mentally noted.

You sit on the table as Jun slots himself between your thighs, he’s kissing on your neck as he’s pulling your sweater off your body. He pauses to pull his sweater and t-shirt off of himself.

Jun kisses your lips again, more fervently this time, as you’ve both become more eager.

“Lay back for me.” Jun whispers against your lips.

You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his long hair as you lean back on the table, and you try not to giggle as his lips trail from your chest, and down your stomach, tickling you a little.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles into your skin, in between kisses.

You smile as you run your fingers through his hair once more, and you feel Jun’s hands side up your thighs underneath your skirt.

“Can I take these off?” Jun asks, eyes meeting yours as his fingers tug on the waistband of your underwear.

“Yeah…” you speak, lifting your hips to give him better access. You start to take your skirt off, but he stops you.

“No… leave it on.” Oh. You can feel your face get hot.

After many times being in these study rooms, you couldn’t ever imagine that you’d ever be in here… like this, with a gorgeous boy as he’s taking off your clothes, yet here you are.

“Jun…” You sigh, as his hands are pulling you to the edge of the table, and pushing your thighs apart.

“This okay?” He questions, as he’s putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Yeah…” You breathe, nodding, as your hands find the edge of the table to grip it with anticipation. Afterall, you can’t see him with your skirt in the way… hmm, suppose it's all part of his plan.

“God, you're so wet and all I did was kiss you…” Jun says lowly, kissing your thigh gently as his breath fans over your core.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s bringing his thumb to your clit, circling it slowly a few times, making your breath hitch at the contact.

“Jun, please…” You whine, aching for more.

“Alright baby…” He all but mumbles back to you, and you feel his tongue slide over your clit, and you throw your head back at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling. He groans against your clit as he slides two fingers inside you, making you arch your back and practically grind your hips down on his hand.

“Shit, baby…” You whine, as his fingers effortlessly reach your sweet spot repeatedly. “Right there… I’m gonna fucking come…”

“Go on baby,” Jun pulls back, kissing your thigh a few times, all while his fingers don’t let up “C’mon…”

You practically cry his name, as you feel the orgasm rush over you, leaving your chest heaving as you catch your breath.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jun whispers to you, as you hear rustling and the clink of a belt buckle as he’s undoing his jeans.

“Yeah…” You whisper, finally catching your breath, but your breath hitches in your throat as he’s suddenly dragging the tip of his cock through your wet folds, the tip bumping your sensitive clit as you’re hinted at the mere size of him.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch making your nails dig into his biceps.

“Fuck…” Jun curses as he hovering over you, kissing your neck as he bottoms out, his thrusts shallow so you can get used to him.

“Jun… shit,” You moan, your fingers threading through his hair. “You’re too big.”

“You can take me.” His lips softly graze your collarbone, just as his hand trails lower and lower, until his fingers find your clit.

You whine his name, suddenly your senses are overwhelmed with the feeling of the pressure on your clit and his cock inside you, hitting spots so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

A particularly hard thrust nearly pushes you further up the table, making you nearly cry as you’re already on the edge.

“Shit, I’m already gonna come…” You cry, arching your back as you already feel the familiar tingle spreading through you, making your toes curl.

“C’mon…” Jun grunts, as his fingers find your clit again, and it feels divine with the way he’s pounding into you. “Come for me… give me one more…”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, he keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

You both say nothing for a few, catching your breath, until you fully register what you just did.

“Oh my god…” You say as you’re getting dressed. “I cannot believe we just did that…” You cover your face as you blush, but also can’t help but laugh.

Afterall, who would've thought?

“Why are you laughing?” Jun notices you trying to hide the fact that you’re blushing, pulling your hand away. “You didn’t like it?” He already knows the answer.

“Yeah… but I never thought I’d do that, you know… here.” You smile right before you kiss him.

“But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again…”

tags: @chiefjunlover @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @aaniag @jenoslutie

#seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #wen junhui #wen junhui fluff #wen junhui smut #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #svthub

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