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i-write-sometimes-maybe · 4 months ago

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Disobedient- Lady Lesso X Ever!FemReader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You’re a fun little ever, and Lesso can’t wait to play with you.

Word Count: 7.1k 🫣 (yes you read that right)

Warnings: SMUT, possible trigger warning as there will be blood mentioned, knife play, edging, edge play (cause, ya know, knives), kinda blood play, bratty reader, brat tamer Lesso, marking of many types, denial, coercion of admission of feelings 🤭 read it to see if there’s more😈. Also yes part of it is similar to my one shot ‘Celebration’ but since Ive been writing this for damn near a year I don’t care enough to change it. At least you know I wrote both 🥲

A/n: Everyone thank @pebbleswritessometimes for this oneshot cause literally a week ago I didn’t know when or if this would be finished soon, but they wanted and hyped me so they got it 🥰🫶🏻. Also, If you can’t tell, my motivation has been shot lately especially with smut, so this drags but I hope it’s good for you guys! I was trying to get this out a lot sooner than I actually did, my bad. I ended up getting a second job and been busy with both jobs as well as not having much motivation but then I quit said second job and continued to struggle with motivation, sorry it took so long lol hopefully the smut makes up for it. Also, yes, there’s a difference between edging and edge play!! Enjoy!

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

You were stuck at the white cloth-covered table, sitting basically by yourself. The table next to yours had a couple of Never girls, Dot and Anadil, but they seemed to be sitting by choice. At least, that's what you guessed after they shoved off two boys that walked up to them.

Sitting at a table by yourself at the first ever, Never-Ever dance was certainly not one of the things you had planned for tonight. You just wanted to dance.

You were looking around the ballroom, finding the drastic change in aesthetics amusing. The school was unified but that didn't mean the students didn't stick to what they know. The dance floor was separated into light colors and dark.

Only a few mixed at the tables, but the students kept quiet. Creating a strange feeling in the air.

Your eyes scanned the room. At first, you were looking for your partner, at least, that's what you told yourself.

But then your eyes landed at the front of the ballroom. The two heads of the once-separated halves standing side-by-side, the Deans. The Dean of Good was dressed in a light, poofy ballgown that made her look like a cupcake. While the Dean of Evil remained in her signature dark suit.

This time, it was accented with a deep royal purple ascot, taking you by pleasant surprise. But you could tell this was one of her nicer suits, it fits her a little better than the others. Not that you would know, of course. This is definitely the first time you've taken more than a second to look over the red-haired Dean.

But gods, the way she holds herself. The way she looks at everyone. The way you can practically see her thoughts as she glared at the Never-Ever PDA. The way she would throw her head back laughing at something you desperately wished came from you.

But that's the thing. You kept wishing for things. But as an Ever, you get your wishes, right?

But now, you wished you could watch her shrug off the blazer. To watch her roll the cuffs of her sleeves up to reveal those toned arms. How you wish her hand would wrap around your-

You cleared your throat as if you've been caught red-handed, and you might've. You caught her eyes on you. They lingered longer than a simple look should've. But you're imagining things, now. Maybe a Never spiked the punch you were currently nursing.

'I think I'm mentally cheating. How could I be so disobedient.?'

She smirked at you, it couldn't be at you, right? Right? There's no way she knows what you're thinking. Her eyes landed on you once again, and she did a once-over on you.

And in that moment, you suddenly wished your outfit choice was good enough. You steered away from the baby pinks and champagne colored dresses that all the other Evers wore. Deciding on a royal blue floor length gown that fit to you perfectly but also complimented your skin tone. You thought you were being risqué with the slit that went straight to your hip, but as Lesso's eyes seemed to linger there for a moment, you knew it was a good choice.

You knew you shouldn't, you have a boyfriend.

Boyfriend! That's right, yeah. What was his name again?... Of course, you didn't forget your own boyfriend's name. Your mind certainly isn't occupied with the Dean, of course not. You definitely weren't dating him only to maintain the 'perfect Ever' appearance, nope.

You couldn't help it, her eyes are oh so enticing.

'I think I shouldn't be lookin' in those eyes. Why do they give mе butterflies?'

You took a second to try to find your boyfriend -unaware your thoughts were heard and the dean was barely biting back a smirk- your eyes rolling as you see him entertaining a group of Ever girls. Unconsciously, your eyes went straight back to the fiery-haired Dean. Who, to your surprise, was walking straight to you.

You wouldn't admit that your stomach dropped a little and you got nervous.

She stopped just a few feet from you, "You can't seem to keep your eyes off me, can you little one?"

You decided to hop onto some suddenly present charismatic boldness, you chuckled a little bit and stood to come face-to-face with her, though she was a couple of inches taller than you.

"It's hard not to when you're the best looking person in this room." It was wrong, you both knew that. She's the Dean and you are technically a student. But if it was so wrong, why does it feel so right?

You were well over age, being late to the start of your own story. It was late enough that you thought you'd not get the chance to go to the school and get your own fairytale.

Your heart skipped a beat as she took another step towards you, you never thought she'd be this close to you, especially in front of everyone else.

"I guess I could say same about you, Dove." Her head tilted slightly as she took the opportunity to examine you closer. Something igniting within her once she saw just how revealing your dress was, never mind the low-cut neckline.

You smirked, "Like what you see, do you?"

A humor-filled chuckle escaped her, and you yearned to hear it again, "My, my, what a bold little Ever. How cute." She wouldn't admit that she was honestly a bit surprised by the dress you chose, or that she secretly loved it.

"What? Haven't met anyone that isn't afraid of you?" You had no idea where this confidence of yours came from, but you didn't mind.

She fully chuckled this time, not expecting these remarks to come from you. But again, she did love it.

She started walking towards you, and you started walking backwards. You weren't afraid, that much was clear, but you did want to be away from the near-center of the room. You had no idea if anyone was watching, but you couldn't care less if someone was.

Luckily, your spot in the ballroom wasn't too far from the edges.

She licked her lips, a move that you wanted to watch on repeat, "Perhaps not, but this is going to be fun."

You only stopped moving backwards once you were sure you were at the back of the ballroom, your back hitting the wall being the dead give away, "Oh? I do hope you're not expecting me to just give in and fall to my knees for you." You spoke softly as her body continued to infiltrate your space.

"Oh, you'll be on your knees, pet."

You pulled her by the lapel of her suit, "You're going to have to make me, if you want anything from me." You smirked, tilting your head this time.

"You, my little one, are trenching in great waters."

"Well, luckily, I can swim."

She smirked again at your antics. Oh, she was gonna have fun.

"You really have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?" Though Lesso kept her tone, she was being genuine.

"I'm sure you'll enlighten me." You plastered on the most sickly-sweet smile, one that Lesso couldn't wait to taste.

She remained silent, whether is was to think about what she was about to do or to think about what to say, she leaned forward and placed her hand on the wall next to your head.

You took this little moment as a chance to show her what you've got, that you're not one to be underestimated, "Tell me where you want us to go. Tell me, and I'll take you there." She raised her eyebrow at this, enthralled by the possibilities.

"Oh? So, if I say, take me to the gardens, you could do that?" She wanted to believe you, but teleportation is unheard of in the fairytale world, and especially from a student.

You stayed silent, looking into her eyes as you swiftly took hold of her other hand that was placed atop her blazer buttons. Lesso hardly had enough time to react, let alone speak, until she realized that you had taken you both to the gardens.

A big part of you was relieved at finally being alone with her. But you watched as she processed that you could teleport.

Before she had the chance to say anything, you spoke first, "It's not all I can do," You were proud of yourself, and you didn't try to hide it either.

She looked back at you, a new look swirling within her eyes and she hummed, "Really, care to share?" She tried to keep her teasing, uninterested tone but she was curious and it showed.

You fake pondered for a second, "Only if you earn it." You finished off with a smirk, knowing that you weren't necessarily hiding anything.

She chuckled again, filling your stomach with butterflies, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

She could see something unknown within your eyes, "You've got no idea."

She took another step closer to you, your fronts almost completely connected by this move of hers, and she used her pointer finger to push your chin up a bit more, "Well, I'm sure I can figure it out."

You grabbed the top of her shirt that was just under the ascot and used the material to pull her down and closer to you, close enough to smell the scent of whiskey that she probably thought she could hide, "And if I'd rather show you?"

Something overcame Lesso at that move, she wasn't sure what it was but her self control seemed to have dwindled to nothing. Excitement continued to do nothing but fill her, and couldn't wait to see just how much innocence you lacked.

Her eyes went to your lips for a moment before they flicked back to your waiting eyes, "Then show me, Dove."

That was all you needed to pull her even closer and connect your lips with hers, it was something that you both had clearly been waiting for. Gods, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't pictured this moment, and it was even better than imagined.

You moved your arms to wrap around Lesso's neck, pulling her nearly impossibly closer to you. In that moment was when her hands went to your hips as well, slightly squeezing once her hands settled in their spot.

You took this opportunity to take her somewhere else, you certainly wouldn't be complaining if she took you bare in the gardens but you'd prefer to not have the whole school witness such a thing. You took the both of you back to your room.

You lucked out, being such a late comer to the school got you your own room. And you were more than thankful you had just cleaned it.

Lesso pulled back from your lips, not only to catch her breath but to see where you've taken the both of you. She hid her impressed features once she looked from your quaint room back to you. She was unsurprised when she saw the proud look on your face being combined with your very obvious lust.

As your tongue peeked out to wet your lips -to taste Lesso once more- you noticed how her eyes instantly followed the action. So, you played into it, slightly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Once you saw Lesso swallow the lump in her throat, you knew what effect you had on her. You thrived on the reactions she had to you. The subtle way her eyes narrowed at your smart mouth remarks, the way her pupils dilated every time you did, well, anything.

"You know you can look and touch right?"

Lesso sucked her teeth, "I am touching you, pet." She raised her eyebrow in challenge, seeing as her hands were still on your waist from the kiss.

The corner of your mouth twitched in attempts to hide your smirk, knowing that if you challenged her just enough she'd come to her limit and take you right then and there.

"But not in the way we both want you to," You started. "You're not, holding back are you?" This time you didn't hold back your smirk.

Her grip on you noticeably tightened, "I'll tell you this once, pet. Strip for me. Now." Her face remained stoic but you saw the amusement in her eyes.

You wouldn't admit just how her tone had affected you, causing your wetness to increase tenfold, "And if I don't?" It was redundant to say, you would've done anything she asked, but still not without a little bit of a fight.

Lesso summoned a blade, moving the very tip to the top hem of your dress, right in between your breasts. You knew it was sharp with the way the edge caught the light.

In a flash of movement, she pulled the blade down causing the dress to be cut in half once it connected with the pre-existing slit on your hip and fall right off your body.

"I liked that dress." You spoke near breathless.

"I gave you a chance."

Her other hand slowly snaked from its place on your waist, up across your abdomen. Her hand continued between your breasts, but it didn't linger there.

Her hand went on past your cleavage and up to your neck, her hand moving to wrap around your throat. You managed to hide the whimper that threatened to escape you as she applied pressure.

She leaned towards your ear to whisper her words, "I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you."

"Are you going to do that any time soon, or should I get myself started? I mean, you're making a lot of promises for someone that's yet to prove anything." You very well knew what you just started, and you couldn't wait.

Lesso's jaw clenched at your words.

"Oh, my little Dove, I'm going to break you." She spoke with a wicked simper.

"Then break me." You had the faintest of smirks on your face, eyes half-lidded as you spoke.

She started pushing you back by the hand that was still on your throat. Though it was quiet, it was clear that your chest started heaving from excitement. She moved her hand only long enough to push you down on your bed. A soft 'umph' coming from you at the contact.

The only light in the room was from the moonlight streaming in through your open window, but it was enough light to see her eyes darken as they roamed over your nearly naked form.

You couldn't help but take your bottom lip between your teeth as you could practically see her ideas raging through her mind as her head tilts the slightest bit. You were overwhelmingly ready for her to take you, in any way she saw fit, if the now-ruined panties you still adorned were anything to go by.

You watched with a bated breath as she slowly stalked her way onto the bed with you. You tried to resist the fidgeting of your hands as she took her time straddling you.

Her knees came up to rest by your ribcage, your breathing not resting at all as she practically ignored you as she begun twirling the blade once again. She watched as the edge caught the limited light, only watching you through her peripheral.

Her signature head tilt returned, "You're so pretty. But, I'd bet anything that you'd be prettier with tears streaming down your face as you beg me to let you come."

"You're more than welcome to find out."

She let her wicked smirk come back to her face, she loved to play the game of cat and mouse, especially with you being her delectable prize.

Your whole body reacted as she leaned over you, lightly tapping the tip of the knife against the bulging artery of your throat. Your head instinctively tilted back to give her all the room she may want.

She slowly began dragging the blade down your sensitive skin, only enough pressure to leave a slightly itchy feeling but not enough to draw blood, yet. Your excitement continued to grow with each inch she dragged the blade.

"My beautiful pet," She started.

"Yours, huh? News to me." Lesso looked to your face just in time to watch you wet your lips.

"Don't think that you won't be mine, not after I'm done with you." She was beginning to get a little irritated with your insubordination, it was obvious in her tone.

You readjusted the strap of the bra that had managed to dislodge itself from its spot on your shoulder while being shoved to the bed, "Is that another promise?"

The blade moved from your collarbone, swiftly moving to the center panel of your bra, and in the time it took for you to blink, Lesso had sliced through it. The fabric was in half and it caused the cups to fall to the side, rendering the garment useless.

"Hey! That was my favorite one... It was expensive."

"Oh, was it? How evil of me. Maybe you can earn yourself a new one."

A displeased huff came from you but Lesso wasn't paying attention, now fixated on your body. The very same body that you couldn't bring yourself to look at in the mirror for too long without finding a list of things you wanted to change.

Her silence while observing you brought forth all the insecurities you had, and you instinctively moved to cover yourself.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lesso gripped your wrists and moved you away from your chest, only once she had your hands pinned above your head did she see the uncertainty in your features, "You don't get to hide yourself from me, this is all mine."

"I am my own, I belong to no one but me."

"Oh, my pet, we shall see how long you believe that."

Lesso bent further over you, her lips connecting to the slight cuts that were only just starting to become visibly irritated on your skin. Her tongue peeked out, causing a delicious sensation once she swiped over the superficial slice.

A breathy moan type noise left you and Lesso just couldn't wait to hear more, to make more come from you.

Her tongue continued down your chest and she latched onto a spot on top of your breast, beginning to leave a mark.

You may fight with her about being hers (for now) but she'll make it clear you're not available. The idea of seeing you covered in all the marks she could possibly leave on you, just had her itching to leave more.

And so she did.

She left another love bite on your sternum beside the now puffy cut on your chest.

Lesso was moving almost painfully slow, but that wasn't without effort. It was originally in efforts to make you writhe and beg. But now? The slow movement of her marks and tongue, it was in efforts to savor you. To get the chance to memorize the taste that's distinctly you.

It felt like minutes before she moved her lips again, only now connecting them to your nipple. Though it was hushed, a proper moan finally escaped you.

Her fingers grazed across your bare torso as her tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation causing an eruption of chills across your skin which didn't go unnoticed by the redhead.

She finally moved onto your neglected nipple, instantly hardening the moment the tip of her tongue came into contact with it. You fought the urge to tangle your finger into her fiery locks.

You couldn't let her win that easily.

Only once you released a breath did Lesso manage to pull herself from you, before she lost herself.

"Gods, if I had known you look and tasted this good, I would've made you mine sooner." Her nails scraped up your ribcage.

You ignored the butterfly eruption in your stomach, a scoff would've came from you if you weren't so focused on the feeling of her, "I am not yours."

She looked from the marks forming on your skin to your face, "Really? It seems you're convinced."

Just as you opened your mouth to agree that you were, in fact, convinced, you felt the blade drag across your stomach. Instead, a stuttering breath came from you.

"What was that, Pet? I didn't quite hear you." Her words were empty, you both knew what she was doing.

You wouldn't let her off that easy.

But what you didn't know is she knew your refutal would come, so as your mouth opened once more to argue her tongue swiped up the blood that began to bead from the fresh cut above your navel.

Finally, finally, she got to hear a true moan of yours.

Your head pressed back into the mattress and your body instinctively arched towards her and the sensation she was providing.

She peaked up to see your eyes closed with bliss, "You taste addicting on the inside and out."

You looked up to see one of the best sites there is. Lesso's hair was slightly disheveled, her pupils blown wide, a little bit of your blood still present on her bottom lip.

The urge to pull her into a kiss, to know what you taste like on her lips was overwhelming. Almost too compelling...

"I'm still waiting for you to fulfill your promise." Your comment was breathless but you hoped it still held the snap you wanted it to.

Her eyes never left yours as you saw her lift the blade again, slicing off the excuse of an undergarment in a quick move.

You'd be a damned liar if you said you're not entirely enthralled by what's to come.

Her lips continued from your navel, grazing over your hip bones. Of course she would continue to tease the living hell out of you, her lips never quite going where you wanted them to.

Another mark was left on the very top of your thigh, her fingers just slightly brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of your other thigh.

She was so close, so close to where you were almost quite literally aching for her.

It was almost to the point of begging, almost. Your hips involuntarily thrusted to get her where you wanted.

You knew very well that if anything slightly resembling a beg left your lips, she would win whatever little rendezvous was going on and you couldn't have that.

But to your absolute pleasure, it wouldn't come to begging. Yet.

Just as you felt the slight of her breath on your throbbing clit, your head lulled back entirely too ready for what this woman would do to you.

The moment her tongue met your clit, your bottom lip went between your teeth as not to reveal how desperate you were. Your hand instantly moved to the sheets below you, knuckles turning white as her pace went from torturously slow to almost enough.

Your thighs parted even further to allow more of her to be closer to you.

"Oh, fuck," One of your hands left the bed and almost entangled itself in Lesso's hair, but that was before you caught yourself.

Part of you wanted to believe that this was so you'd win the game. But the part of you that you were ignoring was thinking it was so you wouldn't actually get lost in the redheads presence.

But what you didn't know was that the redhead had felt the way your fingers just grazed along her shoulder, and she wanted to feel more.

You could tell that her repetitive movements were bringing you closer to the peak of pleasure, the tightness in your stomach was starting to become distracting.

Lesso could've sworn she could taste how close you were, if the way your thighs twitched was anything to go by. She gave it just a moment more, another moment for you to think that you were actually about to get what you wanted.

But that moment would soon come and go.

Just as you were about to voice your closeness to the edge, all movements and sensations stopped.

Part of you knew to expect this, but that didn't mean you wouldn't be annoyed.

Lesso was no longer biting back her smirks, especially when your groan of annoyance escaped your lips.

"What was that, pet?" She gave a slight nip to your inner thigh. "I didn't hear you."

"Fuck, Leo," If you weren't so focused readjusting your head on the pillow you would've seen Lesso swallow at the moment her name left your mouth.

She wasn't expecting how breathless and perfect it sounded, leaving her a little bit shocked if she was being honest. But while she was honest, she wasn't even aware you knew her first name.

In her state, she didn't hear what else you said. With the slightest shake of her head, she knew she couldn't dwell any longer.

To your dismay, she moved away from your dripping pussy. Her lips slowly trailing back up your torso.

She left more love bites where there was room, slowly easing herself to hover above you.

She licked her lips as she felt your body erupt with chills as she was finally level with you, choosing to not say anything about it this time.

Another mark left on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder before she moved to speak directly in your ear, "If you want to cum, you know what I want." She said too cool and composed for your liking.

You fisted the fabric of her blazer, trying to pull her closer, "And I've told you, if you want it from me then you make me."

A deep chuckle came from her, as if she knew something you didn't, and she sat up once again.

Her eyes never left yours as she slowly pulled the blazer off, making a show out of it.

The only way you'd be able to describe her movements was entrancing. The way she swiftly undid the buttons of the blazer and tossing it somewhere you weren't paying attention to. You weren't even sure if you blinked as you saw her take off the waistcoat next.

The only thing you were sure of is how badly you wanted her to keep taking things off. To see what she's been hiding from you this whole time. To see if she's as toned as you imagined...

Her smirk returned, "Pet, if you want the shirt off you only have to ask."

Your eyes rolled back once you processed what she said, "Telepath..."

Gods if you could've seen the cocky smirk on her face, you would've been much more turned on. If that was even possible.

You didn't even want to dwell on the amount of times and things she's must've seen in your mind. And none of them were innocent. Luckily you looked up, flushed cheeks and all, in time to see her unbutton her top.

You had involuntarily laid your hands on her thighs, watching her as she's straddled above you. Slowly, more of her was revealed to you, feeling your mouth go dry and the throbbing in your ignored cunt strengthening.

You simply couldn't look away. Her pale skin was toned, each muscle having its own definition. She may not be the most chiseled sculpture but you'd still swear she was one of Michelangelo's works.

"You staring, pet."

"That, is no one's fault but yours." You spoke, still breathless, as you looked back in her viridian eyes.

The game was temporarily forgotten, desire had overtaken all actions from you both.

Her lips rejoined at the base of your neck, adding more fuel to your inextinguishable flame.

You simply couldn't help it anymore, one of your hands finally tangled itself in her fiery locks like you desperately wanted to do ages ago while the other went to her now bare side.

And gods was it diminishing the last of Lesso's control, the sensation of your touch was almost overwhelming. The feel of your breath on her neck was nearly making her head spin.

She once again moved downwards, going slowly as a way to regain her thoughts, but to you it was a way to get you to squirm.

And, it worked.

Your need had built up enough before she took away your bliss.

You may have given into your need to feel her, but you still wouldn't beg.

Your hips lifted from the bed, but not for long before her hand had pinned them still once again. You couldn't help but groan.

Yes, you were antsy. Yes, you desperately wanted to be taken and completely destroyed but you were not about to say that out loud.

You'd fight to win this forsaken game if it killed you.

And, it just might.

Her lips lingered on your hip bone, so close yet so far from where you needed her.

Lesso's eyes peered up your tense body, loving to discover new things about you. She loved how your brow furrowed as you focused, how your fingers fidgeted in place until you could decide where you wanted them.

Lesso simply loved to play with you, to get you to writhe and moan. She had discovered a new favorite thing.

And speaking of moans, a soft one rippled from your lips as her fingertips slightly grazed your clit. A whispered curse involuntarily left you as she finally provided some sensation to your needy and abandoned clit, pausing just as her pace speeds past excruciating to run just along your folds.

A stuttering breath left you this time, knowing that this tease was the ultimate move for her. That this is her play.

"Something you want to say, pet?"

You bit your bottom lip, merely an attempt at withholding your whimper, and shook your head. You were desperate, desperately hoping she'd continue but quicken her pace.

Again, Lesso wouldn't say it out loud but as much as she loved seeing you twist and turn with desperation, she wanted to see what you looked like when you come. To hear the symphony that is your moans. She wanted to know if you'd grip her tight as you came undone or push her and the stimulation away because she knows once she gets a taste she'd never be satisfied by anything else again.

Lesso's thoughts were interrupted as a louder moan coming from you.

Your back arched and mind went empty as her fingers suddenly and easily slid into you, your arousal causing no resistance.

"Oh, fuck-" Your head began to lull back once she finally began moving her fingers.

The pace was just as steady as her previous ones, not trying to work you too quickly, but the new sensations were welcomed.

"More, I need more." Your hand flew to the red locks, trying to get more of something, anything.

Lesso was tempted to have you beg like the desperate little whore you were, but she'll take that, for now.

Her pace increased ever so slightly, only enough for her to see the way your face contorted with desire and need.

Just as you were about to repeat your previous statement, she added a third finger. Stretching you just enough to have a mind fuzzing pleasure start to build.

Lesso decided now was the time she'd like to commit to memory, the way your hips thrusted to keep pace with her fingers, how your back arched off the bed in search of more. How you sound, all. Because. Of her.

Lesso was sure to stay consistent, knowing your desperate self was beyond ready for release.

She merely needed to wait for it.

"Fuck-" Your words came out rushed and desperate.

"Awe, does my pet want to cum?"

"I'm not your pet." You quickly realized and spoke on your autonomy.

Then, it all stopped.

The slow incline to the edge, the glorious way she filled you, the way your body urned for more. All of it. Gone.

Your breaths came out rapid and broken, "Oh, fuck me."

"Well, I'm trying, but you're making this awfully difficult for yourself."

"Me?!" Your head collapsed against the pillow at the audacity.

She moved herself away from you, "You already know what I want from you, pet."

A scoff came from you, knowing you won't give in that easy, "What? Think I can't take it? You think I'll just give in, just like that? Cute." You looked back in her eyes, a glimmer of frustration beginning to gather.

You smirked inwardly, knowing that the game is working in your favor.

Her head tilted a little, "Oh, you can take it, can you? You can handle all I can give you?"

"Oh, do tell me that wasn't your all, now..." Your delicious simper filled Lesso with the need to make you eat your words.

More than joy filled you as her fingers slid back into your pussy, only now she was moving at the fastest pace she's done all night.

A near guttural moan came from you at the sudden move of hers, no building or waiting necessary.

Lesso still hadn't spoken, but as her free hand slowly snaked up your body, only pausing for a moment to leave a quick pinch to your right nipple.

Just as your brain processed the sudden sharp sensation, her hand wrapped around your throat. Your head tilted back as automated response to her touch.

Just as she squeezed, a small mewl came from you as her pace didn’t ease. Her fingers continued to pound into you harshly, causing you to get closer and closer to the edge of pure bliss.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to play with me?” Her voice lowered, no pleasure lied behind it then, it was almost dark. And as you saw her sharpened glare you wanted to be afraid, but something about Lesso makes it impossible for you to be afraid.

She chuckled lowly as your arousal increased at her words, “Pathetic.”

The pure pleasure she was giving you, the delicious look she had, the tone of her husky voice, it was just enough for you to come close.

And Lesso knew it. She could feel it.

But you wouldn’t.

Again, everything stopped suddenly.

Her hand left your pussy, as the grip on your throat loosened enough to hear a pathetic cry escape.

Okay, you thought you can handle it. But when she overloads your senses with nothing but the feeling of her, it becomes difficult to not give in.

Your eyes closed and your bottom lip went between your teeth as an attempt to keep yourself together.

Your hand reached up to hold onto her wrist that was homed around your throat. Maybe as a way of grounding, definitely as a way to keep some feeling of her on you.

Barely a moment passed before Lesso spoke up, "You're mine, say it." Her tone left no room for discussion.

"I belong to no one." Your voice however, was weak and low.

"Then you'll continue to be denied, entirely on you." A beat, two beats. You knew that you couldn't keep denying it, and not just because you wanted to come.

A stuttering breath, then a sigh, “I’m, yours. I belong to you.” It was no question, you both were aware of this fact before this rendezvous started. Something was so delectable about playing the game first.

She had the most aggravating smug smile on her face, and it looked so good on her. Damn you, damn it, damn her. You wouldn't take it back even if you wanted to. You were hers. Irrefutably, irrevocably, undeniably, completely hers.

She didn't have to say anything about how pleased she was with your admission, she knew it all along, her smile said it all.

Your chest was still heaving, trying to catch some of the breath Lesso stole from you, when she crawled on top of you once again. She straddled you like she had many times in the night, lightly tracing her nails over the marks she's made. She admired the discolored hues her love bites started to take on, loved seeing how your sensitive skin reacted to the slight edge of the blade, how your skin is adorned with marks from her nails all over.

She just couldn't get enough of the sight of you. All marked up by her, marked up where everyone can see, marked to show that you've been claimed.

But then, it hit her. You weren't technically marked by her. Oh, that just won't do.

She reached back over for the previously abandoned blade. Unconsciously twirling it once again between her fingers, an unknown habit of hers.

Where to put it? Where-to-put-it? She thought to herself, still silently looking over your tired and marked up form.

You simply laid there, you knew she was thinking of something, but you knew you'd find out soon enough.

And soon it was.

Not more than a moment after your thought, a hum came from the redhead and she leaned over you.

"This may hurt, but I'll make it quick." She spoke just as the tip of the knife cut into your skin.

'Fuck...' You thought as your mouth opened with silence.

The pained pleasure was the most mind spinning feeling you’d had felt to date.

The tip of the blade slicing through your delicate flesh.

And soon enough, a perfect “L. L” was carved right above your left breast.

A perfect marking that left no room for interpretation, you were now and forevermore, hers.

You, belonged to Leonora Lesso.

Both of your hands fisted her hair as her tongue swiped over the wound to clean you of the mess you were making.

Your eyes would’ve rolled to the back of your head at her move had they been opened.

“Please…” The slight tug in her hair was enough to tell Lesso everything she needed to know.

“What, begging already?”

“You’ve already won tonight, there’s nothing else for me to lose but one more thing for me to gain.” Your hips thrusted up enough for her to get the message.

And in that moment, Lesson realized it was time to keep her part of the bargain.

Her lips and tongue slowly moved south once more, exploring every part of you she could on the way.

She skipped past your navel, knowing that this would be the time you get what you wanted.

Gods the moment her lips came back into contact with your clit, you could’ve sworn you could come right then and there.

“Oh, fuck Leo, just like that.” Your hands never left her hair, nor eased on the grip.

Lesso would be a damned liar if she said she wasn’t entranced with the way your voice was breathless, or with the way her name simply rolled off your tongue.

Her pace increased on your clit while she brought her fingers back to your desperate pussy.

“Oh, fuck!” Your back arched off the bed and your grip in Lessos hair was a welcomed pained pleasure for her as it got even tighter.

You both knew you wouldn’t last long with the speed and expertise Lesso was using on you.

You were rapidly approaching the peak of bliss, feeling light headed as it was already and you haven’t even crossed the threshold yet.

“Leo, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

The swirling of her tongue on your clit pausing only long enough to speak, “Yeah? Does my pet wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes, I wanna cum!”

No other words came from Lesso but her lips once again wrapped around your clit. Along with the swift swirling of her tongue, she pared it with new suction.

The newfound pleasure caused white to appear in your vision, your overwhelming sensitivity becoming known.

Just as Lesso slightly curled her fingers, you were there. A near scream-like moan and the cinching around Lessos fingers told her you were there.

You came, and you came hard.

Lesso’s name fell from your lips like a mantra, being spoken over and over and over again.

Lesso got her answer as you started to use your grip in her hair to pull her from you.

The sensitivity was nearly unbearable and Lesso wasn’t easing up.

She knew you’d have to pry her away from you.

The pure taste of nothing but you was a craving she didn’t know had to be satiated.

Your hands finally relaxed enough to moved from Lesso’s hair to her jaw, now pulling her up to face you.

You still hadn’t caught your breath but you didn’t let that stop you from pulling the redhead in for a kiss.

Her hands moved to be resting on your waist, choosing to deepen the kiss.

Your body was weak but you needed a taste of Lesso too, even if it was a sample.

She was pliant in your hands, moving in any way your slight touch nudged her too. Your lips slowly moved down her jaw, the bliss causing her to briefly close her eyes.

You continued further down, reaching her neck and beginning to leave a mark right on her pulse point, "Only fair if I get to leave my mark too. Wouldn't want anyone else to think they've got a chance, now do we?"

You could feel the way her chuckle left her throat as your lips moved along her skin.

You were sure to make it worth while, leaving a bright large mark where it couldn’t be obviously hidden.

Sure, it was meek in comparison to the marks and cuts she’s left on you, but you like to think it’s the thought that counts.

Lesso pulled back a bit, and just as you were admiring your work, she was admiring you.

Neither would speak of it but this mutual liking, no infatuation, no no love, would be the center of a new universe.

Her eyes glanced down and a proud smirk rejoined her features.

“I’ll get a rag to clean you up, stay here.” She reluctantly climbed off you to grab a rag, finding it surprisingly easy to maneuver in your space.

Your voice was still soft, partly hoarse from the previous activities, “Not like I can go far right now.”

You yearned at her genuine laughter at your comment, knowing you’d gladly get to hear it again.

She came back with a water bottle and a rag, “I’ll be sure to ease up on you next time.”

And with one simple sentence, one small act of kindness, you and your heart smiled.

Next time.

Again, you were hers. Irrefutably, irrevocably, undeniably, completely hers.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @hxzxrdous @sgelessoanddoveykissing

Lmk if you wanna join the taglist! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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seventhcallisto · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter IV — "mirrors."

Deep down.

Toc/cw; suggestive undertones, dialog, and themes. Pre-heat haze, san getting angry, ooc yunho and san. More world building, possessiveness. I'm bad with cw. COMMENTS PUSH MY MOTIVATIOOON Thank you♡

It's four days before your heat. Hongjoong, and you are trying your best not to be obvious about your affections, but it's getting harder the closer you get to your heat. Maybe it's the consistency of your schedule. Waking up at the earliest of dawn, writing down new lyrics as soon as you reach for your phone and then immediately getting up and beginning your day that had changed, which ended up with you feeling strange. However, today is not your typical schedule day.

You thought you'd have more time, really. Seriously. Now you're a heaving, writhing mess under your blankets. Not knowing what's going on because it's the first time you've felt this after your diagnosis. Too hot. Too cold. Never enough. Tossing and turning. Burning to be touched. It only lingers for an hour like a warning sign. The sense of being on the verge of heat. You don't know exactly what to do or what to say. Google is fairly helpful. You especially don't want to leave your room when all of your members are alphas. Even if they're taking scent suppressants, your smell is still extremely sensitive to them.

He hardly remembers you tucking him in a while ago now. Suddenly, your words echo.

"If you remember in the morning, then I give you full permission." To what? He doesn't know. All day- all week. As san gets ready, sits with wooyoung, does some more practicing, eats out with some friends. He still doesn't know what you meant, and he's grown frustrated about it. He's completely lost from the amount of drinking he did with wooyoung.

Maybe the over drinking thing is getting to san. Woo has got to stop daring him to drink more. He can't believe he still allows him to get away with it. As san arrives home around mid day from filming, he realizes it's time to settle in for the rest of the day.

Your scent lingers in the apartment, and it's a good thing that jongsik has told them to begin taking scent suppressants to prevent any of them from practically jumping you. It provides the self-control they need, but it doesn't prevent the thoughts that course through everyone's minds when they get the tiniest scent of you.

It may be thanks to the scent suppressants they have complete control over what they're feeling and doing currently. But it doesn't mean none of them want to knot you. Surely, san is speaking on behalf of his members that it would be heaven to do so. If they didn't have the scent suppressants.. well, san doesn't want to pop a boner thinking about it.

So, for now, they're just coping with your pre-heat scent all over the apartment. No one is allowed in other than the guys. Your pack. San definitely prefers it that way. He peels his jacket off when he steps through the threshold of the doorway, quickly closing it behind him to lock your scent inside.

Seonghwa prepares another meal for you, considering you're still cooped up in your room. And san wonders if hongjoong has been in and out of there, based purely on the smell of him lingering in the hallway. There's been talk about you and hongjoong. Gossip amongst the guys. The papers san found a while ago proves so.

He slaps the paper down in front of wooyoung. Taping his pointer finger against the signed line. "Look! She let him sign it!" san whines, grabbing at his hair. "This is driving me crazy," he huffs as he paces. On wooyoungs bed, yeosang and wooyoung scan the piece of paper. Jaws slack in shock.

There's no way they can dismiss this. Somehow, san got his sticky fingers on your heat paperwork. They don't say anything about that, but the signed line for your heat helpers is only signed by hongjoong. The pack alpha, yes they could ask him. But that would be extremely disrespectful, questioning the pack alpha.

Woo runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Well, what if we ask- what if she gets uncomfortable? What if she doesn't want us to sign it and she feels pressured to say yes?"

Jongho enters their shared bedroom, questionable looks between his other members. The paper in question catches his eyes. "Why do you have that?" He asks, shutting the door behind him.

Does everyone know about the paper?

San struggles to come up with an explanation for the youngest member. "I- wo-" he looks to wooyoung, wooyoung lays the paper on the blanket, putting his hands up, he claims not to know anything about it. San has no other option except for explaining himself to jongho and what he's gathered the past few days.

Once san is finished explaining in the most rushed manner. Yeosang speaks up, looking to him. "I'm not asking her." Yeosang says, laying down his foot. "If she doesn't want us on it, it's not our place to ask her," yeosang looks back down to the paper in wooyoungs hand. "Put it back where you found it." jongho says, uncrossing his arms from his chest and leaving the room.

San looks back at the paper, propped up at the corner of the kitchen. It's not usual for paperwork to be left around here and there. But the fact you left it out in plain sight when San had to go and physically see it in your room to get it is very suspicious. He can even see the obvious bold letters spelling 'Heat Assessment'.

He not so subtly runs past seonghwa, slamming his keys down on the counter next to the paper. Seonghwa looks up from the dish he's preparing for you, looking at san, who hovers over the counter.

"Hey," seonghwa calls san. San shakes from his thoughts, turning toward the older member. Paper in hand. He reads seonghwas signature, cursive and strategically placed next to hongjoongs. "What are you doing with that?" Seonghwa doesn't flinch. he doesn't even ask about the content of the paper. Truly. Everyone knows, and now seonghwas signature is on it.

"How do you know what I have?" San asks, walking across the kitchen to seonghwa who spreads out some slices of apples on your plate. Seonghwa doesn't look up, "we all know what that is." It's a lie. Many of them dont know. San knows it, too. seonghwa pops a slice into his mouth, biting down on it. The souring scent of san fills the kitchen. "Why has -" he slams the hand holding the paper down next to the plate. Suddenly Agitated. "Why has no one asked about it?"

Seonghwa looks to san, finishing cutting the cheese with the knife in hand. "Asked? It's none of your business." Maybe seonghwa is a little harsh about it. He knows that, for fact. The door down the hallway pops open. San doesn't take a second to tell seonghwa off. Instead, he's marching down the hallway.

Hongjoong is just about to enter your room when he feels san pull him back by his arm. A deep set frown over his eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell us about this!?" He places the paper against hongjoongs chest. Hongjoong looks between the paper and san. Pulling it off.

San is picking for a fight. Seonghwa and hongjoong know. Whatever your scent has done has triggered san to be more possessive of you and more aggressive. Your heat is just around the corner, so the tension is rising in the apartment, and it's higher than ever. The boiling point has been reached since this morning.

"Why is your name on this!" San belts, looking between hongjoong and seonghwa.

Yunho steps out of his shared room with yeosang. The shorter peeps over his shoulder to look for where the yelling is coming from. The door creaks open across from them. Wooyoung and jongho peak out. Confusion written on their faces. Lastly. Mingi is the one to step out from the last bedroom on the left, right across from your room where they're currently at.

"San" hongjoong tenses, watching the way san challenges him. The sudden twisting smell of sans scent burning in his nose. "Tell me," san says through clenched teeth. Seonghwa tries to pull at his shoulder to lead him away from the leader but san shrugs his hand off roughly, cursing through his teeth. Sans tough hands shoot out, pushing hongjoong into mingi. The leader catches himself quickly with the help of mingi. Staring wide-eyed at san.

San, who just opened your door and went into your room. Locking the door behind him. He can hear the pounding on the other side. Drowning out his members, San steps forward into your dim bedroom. The only light comes from the window directly across from your door. It shines the dark room only slightly.

San calls you name and hears a shuffle of things in your closet. The walkover is draining. He can feel himself being pulled in by your sweet scent, invading his lungs. He knocks on it gently.

In the gap, your fingers slide the sliver of the door open. Eyes still blinking back sleepiness. San has to take a sharp breath at the invasion of his senses. You're curled up on the makeshift bed in your closet. A nest you made.

Plenty of clothes san has noticed were missing are strewn in a pile under you. Clad in hardly any clothing to combat the heat of your body. San bends down to your level. You still seem you. The smell isn't in full bloom. San can tell, somehow.

" 'Mega?" San calls to you ever so gently, watching you rub your eyes. "Sannie?" you respond, voice filled with recognition. The sound of your voice makes the tension in sans shoulders dissipate. You stumble up and out of the closet, anxiety begging to settle into your bones. He backs up to give you space. Did he even plan anything he was gonna say?

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, rubbing your arm because of the cold breeze, and definitely not because you're nervous. "Doesn't my preheat scent affect you or whatever? It's not safe.." You mumble the last bit. San struggles to answer. "The scent suppressants.." he trails off. Watching you rub at the sweat on your forehead. He watches you twitch every so often. You don't meet his eyes. Grimacing slightly. "San.. what did you need?" You know he's not here to talk about something so simple. And the settling pain of your incoming heat is twisting your guts to make room for a big knot at the sudden interest of an alpha in your presence.

San sighs, all frustration draining from him in your presence. Wrapped around your smell. "The heat assessment paper." He says, you take a sharp breath. "What about it?" You turn to look away. San stands across from you.

"Do you really want me to sign it?" He asks in a single breath. You blink up at him, swaying in the cold room. "I said yes last night, did I not?" You huff.

You're kinda mean when you're in pre-heat. San thinks. He goes quiet. That's when you reach out, cupping his arm. Warm eyes meeting his in the dark. "San, I want all of you to sign it"

And you're being extremely bold. "All of us?" San mumbles out, shocked. It's not true, right? San, woo, and yeosang, can all be there for your heat? He won't have to feel terrible about signing it. His members (who are equally infatuated with you) can, too?

"You want all of us to sign it?" San phrases better, grabbing your palm in his, off his arm. "Yes, sign it," you sigh, growing impatient. This is why hongjoong and seonghwas name is on your paperwork.

San feels the hope bubble in his throat. Really, he can have it all. And especially when all he wants is to be with you at this moment. He doesn't care, you want him, and he wants you. Sans tough and somewhat calloused hands wrap around your jaw on each side, his fingers glancing over your primary scent gland, which makes you shudder into him. Your name falls off his lips as he searches yours. You can't help but stare at the lines in his perfectly round lips. As soon as his eyes fall over your own. He's pulling you into him.

You can feel the passion in sans touch, and you can feel the desperation of his kiss as it becomes more heavy. His left hand slipped down to your waist to pull you even closer. His fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. Lips move in tandem, San wants to completely be overwhelmed by you, to be molded by your words and do whatever you want him to. And you want to completely drown into San.

Sans feet shift under him as you guide him, your hands slither into his hair. When you tug gently, san sighs into your mouth, never does he part. Nor does he want to. You know if you keep going, you'll succumb into the inner war of letting San have you here and now. San is oblivious to this. He's slowly letting himself slip into the other mindset he's pushed off for so long, the one where he gets to have you and take care of you like an alpha should.

You shake him out of it. Pushing his shoulder back against the door. You dislodged yourself from his lips. A soft tug, and you're gone from San. He lets out a strangled sound at the lack of your touch. You can't be entangled like this when you're so close to your heat. You can't let this get to you. Breathing each other in, you softly speak. "You have to go," you tell him. San can feel the door rattle against his back.

"As soon as you're done signing, it needs to be turned into the heat sanctuary I'm going to be at. If you don't, the signatures will mean nothing."

So that's why you've been cooped up in your room instead of going to your heat sanctuary. You've been waiting for them to sign it. As soon as san feels the door tug from his back, and you quickly shoving him out. Yunho is pulling the rest of him. Scowling. A screwdriver in hand as they tried to pry open your door. "Why did you do that! That was dangerous! For both of you!"

San heard and felt your words.

Everyone has been withholding their urges all week. Perhaps the scent suppressants are working compared to how your first heat hit. When they didn't know that scent you were producing and why suddenly they wanted to cover you in their own scents. It's a lot less easy knowing that you're only a room away in an apartment full of alphas who are willing to give you anything. But you don't know that. Hongjoong does. He takes a shuddered breath when he stands at your door ealy that morning. He can smell your preheat scent seeping out of the cracks.

Hongjoong knocks a few times. Listening for any movement on the other side. The door swings open. He's smacked with a wall of your smell. "Hongjoongie," you sigh happily. Pulling him in. "Hey pretty girl" he answers, pushing the hair behind your ears and out of your face when you don't stop to turn around and keep pulling him to your closet.

"Look," you slide the door open, dropping the edges of his shirt to crawl inside. "Come," you beckon him down towards the floor, pulling at his hand. He grins, crawling in. He's much too big for your tiny closet, but you fit in it perfectly. Hongjoong can see the amount of clothes on the floor, it's like a mountain, and in the center of it, it's big enough for you and someone else to sit in.

You're so very eager to get hongjoong in that circle, just to see if it's big enough. "Once I get to the heat place, I can make a bigger one for all of us." You push at hongjoongs shoulders, and his back hits the clothing softly. He doesn't know exactly what you're doing until you're sitting atop him, trying to nestle your face into his neck. He places two hands on your hips.

You're scenting him now, hongjoong knows this but decides to ask anyway. Shoving your face as close as you can get to him, your lips breeze passes his glands. Your forehead falls there instead, rubbing back and forth to transfer your scent. Encouraging a shuddered breath out of him. "What are you doing, huh?" He pulls your head out of his neck, his right hand holding your nape softly. You huff, hongjoong scans your features in the dark.

"You don't smell like me," you pout, hongjoong laughs lightly. Maybe in a teasing way but more so in a 'that was really cute' kind of way. The grin on his face tells you what exactly he's thinking. "Don't laugh at me" you pull away, sitting up on his chest. You drain the breath out of him in the best way.

Hongjoong slips to sit up, holding you close to him and not any lower. He only has so much control for now, and he doesn't want to risk giving a certain area the stimulus. "I'm not," he bites his grin. "You are," you mumble, shaking your head from the fog. You plop it on his shoulder, holding him against you.

"I'm not even in my heat yet, and I'm exhausted," you say into his shoulder. Hongjoong sighs for you. "I know, I'm working on it," he kisses your head. "I'll get you a knot as soon as possible, okay?" The sentence sounds so innocent when it really isn't. His finger rubs the side of your neck, where your scent glands are.

The thought of seeing hongjoong above you, giving you his knot, being in you for the first time, flashes through your mind. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. You stop the pulse between your thighs the best you can. "You can't say that." You whimper, pulling off of him. It takes everything in you to do so. The omega in you cries to be closer. Hongjoong pats your hip as you land softly on the clothes next to him. This plan is driving you mad, and yet you still have a week of a long heat ahead of you. "Has san said anything yet?" You look to hongjoong.

Hongjoong shakes his head, watching you lean your head on his knee. Prettily poking your lips at him in the most frustrating of pouts. "What if he didn't hear me?.. What if he doesn't like me like that?" You mumble, closing your eyes and squishing your legs into your chest.

"He heard you. He does." hongjoong sighs, rubbing your cheek softly. You don't know if he's saying it to reassure you. But you really hope san did hear you. And you hope you're not getting your hopes up.

Hongjoong tells seonghwa first. He trusts seonghwa a lot. You trust seonghwa just as much. The idea of going to him first was completely a mutual idea.

Later in the morning, Hongjoong knocks on his door, the one he shares with mingi and san. Sans out today. Wherever he is, he decides not to learn the details. Lately, san has been giving him the cold shoulder. And hongjoong has some idea why.

On the other hand, joong isn't ready to tell mingi about you wanting them. Hongjoong knows that as soon as he tells mingi, mingi will lose himself and steal you away for the week. You might end up inducing Mingis rut in the process. It's just not a great idea to tell mingi before everyone else, no matter if he gets upset about knowing later.

So with that, as soon as hongjoong learned seonghwa was alone in his bedroom, hongjoong took the opportunity. Three knocks, and he's entering. Seonghwa rests on his bed, looking at his phone. Hongjoong takes the bed across from him. Seonghwa knows whatever conversation they're about to have. It's gonna be serious. He sits up, taking whatever hongjoong has got to say heads on.

Seriously, if hongjoong says that you two are dating exclusively, seonghwas heart might actually explode into tiny shards.

It begins the same as a nightmare seonghwa has been having for a couple of days. "You know she and i are together," hongjoong starts off with, not knowing how else to phrase it. Seonghwas mouth falls open. "I.. what?"

Hongjoong really doesn't know how to say this. But for your sake, he's trying. "We're dating. I think we are - anyway. I was the first one who asked her, " hongjoong kinda bluffs, he didn't ask. It was kinda set in stone as soon as your lips touched his. Seonghwa wants to urgently shake hongjoong to spill everything. "She wants us to be a more intimate pack if you get what I'm saying, more than what the media suggests." Seonghwa sucks a harsh breath in, eyebrows furrowed.

"She feels most comfortable with us, not only that but.." hongjoong tries to gather his words. "She likes all of us, more than friends, more than members. She wants us on her heat assessment." Hongjoong explains, he can't exactly tell seonghwa you like-love him, it's not his place too. If seonghwa wanted an answer, he could ask you himself.

"She wants all of us?" Seonghwa can't believe it, to be with you and not make it awkward amongst them, is this true? Seonghwa can share. He can play nice. He might even enjoy the idea of sharing with the entirety of the pack. It's something he doesn't really understand, but he's completely fine with anyway.

Hongjoong nods, signifying that seonghwa is correct. Seonghwa let's out a breath.

"I'll sign it." He let's his words freely flow.

And when seonghwa brings your breakfast for the day, you're surprised to see him. And he's very surprised to see you making a nest in your closet instead of relaxing in your bed. "Hwa?" You question, taking the plate gently, your round eyes look up to him, assessing his presence. It reminds him of that moment in the kitchen, and seonghwa grips his fingers into the clothes under him to prevent the blood flowing somewhere else. "Hi," he greets back with a hum. You place the plate down next to the closet door.

"Hungry?" He asks, watching your behavior. You shake your head. "Not really... My heat last time took a lot, and I still tried to eat as much as i could," you sigh. Seonghwa knows a heat will take everything out of you, and you still won't be hungry until after. Too driven by the urge to.. well, breed, really. He hums as he listens to you talk.

You look like the most beautiful person in his eyes. Even when seonghwa met you for the first time. Even before debut, when you were just a tiny beta that begged to be picked on just to bite back. Even during every bad hair day you claimed. He reaches out to smooth his hand over your hair. Your roots are beginning to show. As soon as your heat is over, you'll be long overdue for a touch-up. And seonghwa feels like tagging along for it. Just to watch your pretty face in the mirrors.

You lean into seonghwas hand as it trails down your face. Sighing softly into his palm. "I signed the papers." He gulps, pulling his hand back. You miss his warmth. Even if you are burning up. Your eyes fall.

"I don't want you to be there for my heat -" you sigh out. Seonghwas heart leaps into his throat. "I want you to take care of me, and I want you to be there after," You try to find the right words. Confessions are hard. "I like you, more than my member, more than friends," you mumble.

"You know how long I have waited to hear that?" Seonghwa laughs into his words. You blink once, twice. He pulls you into his chest. Hugging you tightly. His head falls over yours. Seonghwa isn't the most muscular member, but he still has arms to prove how he can hold you comfortably in his arms and steal you away at any moment.

"I like you too, so much." he mumbles into your hair. You pull back and look up at him, begging for a kiss with your smile. If you did, you'd both end up getting lost in each other. You cut the silence. "Could you bring me some dirty laundry?" You laugh, embarrassed. He snickers. "Sure" he knows exactly why.

Sharing a room with yeosang isn't the best, yunhos member doesn't say much about this odd situation. Lying face down on his blankets, yeosangs phone is propped up by his hand. Yunho, on the other hand, is watching a show on his laptop, propped up on his chest.

It started off with yeosang tossing and turning all night, ultimately it woke yunho up. And before yunho could get a clue of what's going on, yeosangs breathy sighs and whimpers had him shooting right up and out of bed. No way was he gonna stick around to listen to yeo have a wet dream.

The early morning dew completely encased the windows after a heavy night of rain. The flashing clock on the microwave told him it was around 2 am. He took his spot on the couch and watched a movie in silence. When from the corner of his eyes, wooyoung tiredly stepped out of the hallway.

Wooyoung stood rubbing his hand over his eye. There's no obvious sign to yunho that he knew what was going on with yeosang, but he had his suspicion. He doesn't greet woo when he lands softly on the other side of the couch. Both watching the movie in silence.

Yunho can't take silence much longer. Wooyoung obviously can't, either. "Have you seen the heat assessment paper?" He uses this conversation for topic? When obviously, yunho knows about it. "Yea, why?" He asks, turning his chin towards the dark-haired guy.

Wooyoung shakes his head like he's swaying his thoughts away. "Did hongjoong tell you his name was on it?" That gets yunho. No. Hongjoong did not tell him. Because yunho didn't know the leaders name was on the paper.

Besides the feeling of longing building in his stomach, yunho wanted to know what wooyoung getting at. "No, he didn't.. why are you asking?" It's a short answer but an even quicker question. Wooyoung doesn't dare spare a glance at yunho. Opting to just stay quiet. It's completely unlike him.

"Whatever reason she has him on the paper, it isn't our business -" yunhos words stop when wooyoung shoots up frustrated, whisper yelling towards yunho. "Yes! I know it shouldn't be any of my business it's hers- but- dammit! She's one of my best friends! I have a right to know!" Wooyoung seems to be drowned in his own outburst for yunho to get a word in.

Pieces fall and collide in yunhos mind. Watching his other member pace back and forth. "There's more to this, isn't there?" Yunhos words stop wooyoung in his track. The dark-haired guy turns to look at his taller friend. hum.

Yunho knows that look, the all familiar sign of hopelessness when you love someone so deeply, and yet you don't know what to do. He's had the same look consistently when you would split from their group to take photos with other idols. Other idols who yunho knows want you. Everyone wants you. The all familiar ace of K-pop.

When he'd sit back as you did video challenges, dancing and laughing with someone else whilst he watched in silence. He wished everyone knew you were his when, in reality, you didn't even know how he felt. Yunho knows that sinking feeling of possibly breaking something that can't be unbroken. Yunho knows these moments of laughter and bickering, but he wishes he could have those moments with you in a different way. A way that you both understand. Mated as a pair. Together in a more intimate way.

Wooyoung is as still as a mouse, caught in the cookie jar, smacking his lips. His eyes squint down, his hand coming up to the bridge of his nose. Wooyoung is estranged. He is tired of lying to himself.

"We all love her, don't we?" He says into his palm, the world doesn't seem to crash like he thinks it does. Yunho stands up, taking wooyoungs hand away from his face. Wooyoung sighs, facing yunhos eyes with diminishing confidence.

"It's her choice.." wooyoung says just as yunhos mouth falls open to speak. Pulling his wrist from the taller members grasp.

It truly is your choice to call on them if you want to. And when wooyoung turns away, he doesn't see the way yunho loses all confidence. Compared to his members, yunho has a lot to beat. If he had to fight for you, could he?

The hallway flur pass yunho. In an instance, he's pulling san out of your doorway, fuming. San has your scent all over him. Yunho does not ignore the pink tinting in his members' cheek or the way his lips are red. His lips pull back into a snarl as he barks at san about what he did wrong. What could have happened.

Sans lovesick eyes and dazed expression only pisses yunho off more. Even when he lets go, he's still towering over the dark-haired guy. A sudden urge of violence panging in his fists. Yunho isn't violent, no. He doesn't know what happened, but the way san reeks of you is making him feel as if he could commit a felony then and there really digs deep.

His members attempting to calm the situation only make things drown him. He's got to step back. He's got to get out of this cramped apartment where you linger around every corner. He turns on his heels, wanting to make a beeline for the door.

"She wants us to sign her heat assessment."

Sans voice speaks up, and yunho knows exactly who it's directed at. He can feel the stinging of sans dark eyes against his back. Still, as wooyoung looks to his friend, he can tell he got more info than he leads on. But the main shocker is what he said.

"What?" Wooyoung asks for confirmation. Heart leaping into his throat. It's got to be a hoax. Seonghwa and hongjoong linger in the back, silently observing. Mingi is the second to step forward, bending his neck to ask what he means. Jongho definitely gets onto what he's saying immediately. But he's almost tempted to barge into your room and ask you himself.

"All-" jongho gets cut off. "All of us." Sans smile is bitten back. He looks to wooyoung, then to yeosang, shock etched into their faces.

"That's what she said?" Yeosang gulps. San has never lied about anything you've said. No matter what. San respects you too much and this situation is too serious for lying. Yet, yeosang looks to the leader and eldest member to know anyways. Their names are on the paper, something you allowed.

Hongjoongs eyes hold curiosity as he watches all his members, he was right. He's smug that he was right. You are so consuming, it wouldn't be anything other than a surprise for any one of them to not be madly in love with you. You are the prettiest shining pearl in the sea that is the world. Hongjoong shakes out of his thoughts. Seeking out the begging and hopeful eyes of his members. Even yunho, who is a few feet away. Turned to listen in on the conversation.

"It's true." hongjoong says.

Seonghwa took the honor of putting his name on your heat contact. So, in case of anything. Seonghwa will get that call. And he'll assess the situation when you can't. Regarding who goes in and out of your heat space, any official business regarding idol work, etcetera. Seonghwa took it on cause if hongjoong had- the eldest knew that the captain would be overwhelmed with all of it.

Seonghwa is your primary caretaker for the entire heat cycle whilst you're out. To confirm, they had all sat around your door whilst you were on the other side. Just a door away. You used your phone to call them so they could hear you clearly.

You are still coherent despite what san did earlier. The door is the closest way you can feel close to them. Joong had slipped a piece of paper under your door along with a pen.

'Rules' it reads. Rules for the guys. Anything you don't want them to do, they'll be coherent, partly, while you're in your omega mindset. They can't do anything you dont want, especially if you're allowing them to be heat helpers, which is why you need rules.

You quickly write down the list whilst they talk. Discussing what they need to do beforehand quietly on the other side.

You write down a list of things you're not okay with and precautions. Birth control for men is the most important thing on the list. You know omega-you will not take them, begging not too actually, and knowing your boys, they might actually give in or get distracted. So they'll have to do the protection protocol.

And that's all you had. You are fairly comfortable with everything else. You're sure your omega mind will enjoy it as well.

There's this obvious what-will-happen lingering in your mind. Will this make or break your group? You know this is only a temporary solution. You know they think you're only doing this because you trust them to take care of you. You can't tell exactly why they're agreeing. Do they possibly feel the same? You know hongjoong and seonghwa do- and even san.

What about the rest of them?

Later in the midst of the night, as you're curled up in your closet. Your phone vibrates, awakening you from a sticky and hot sleep, one where you hardly actually sleep a wink, and you're completely uncomfortable the entire time. The bright light shines and blinds you temporarily. It's 2 am.

At some point after dinner, you must have fallen asleep. The ache in between your legs spikes up your hips, causing you to curl into yourself more. Whining quietly into the blanket yeosang had gifted you for your birthday. A pale yellow.

Your fingers reach for anything. Your phone ends up in your tight embrace. A contact on display, how'd that get there? The all familiar picture of you and the tallest of your friends posing in front of a snowman, his bright smile and bowlcut styled hair. Yunho.

"Hello?" Yunhos happy deep voice rings from the other side of the screen. You shudder at the familiarity. Was his voice always this deep? Your thighs clench. "Hello..?" He repeats. Music can be heard, some type of indie song, you recognize a few of his friends talking. Laughing whilst he takes a call.

You can hear the shuffle of yunho on the other side. A door shuts behind him, silencing the music. He calls your name softly. You're still so quiet. You haven't said anything. He must have checked the caller ID. "Yunho," your small voice speaks up, and you bite your lip. Curling into your side. You continue on with a whimper, "Where are you?"

Yunho takes a sharp breath. "I'm out, getting food with some friends, you okay?" he tells you honestly, his feet pacing in the bathroom echos. Your head begins to fog worse than it has in the entirety of the week. "Yun" you whine his name into the air. "How far away?" You fall into a whisper.

"Not far, I'm leaving now." The fact yunho is willing to ditch his group of friends and come home just because you called has you leaking. You bite on the arm holding your phone up to stop a needy gasp.

"Talk to me omega, tell me what's going on." The shuffle of yunho pulling his jacket on distracts you. His friends call his name as he walks, and the doorbell jingles behind him. You can't take the ache anymore. The fog behind your thoughts is consuming. You feel yourself losing control.

"I need you, please. Yunho, Please." You whine, dropping the phone next to you. Yunhos' words fall short. You can hear the door to his car open and slam shut.

"I'll take care of you, omega, okay? Just keep talking to me, I'm almost there"

A/n; I'm terrible. Ik. leaving it off on another cliffhanger bc I didn't know how to finish this chapterrrrr iM SORRY. THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!! it's gonna start getting really spicy here on-

taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @yunholuvrsblog @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog @doggopepper @uhhheather @hyukssunflower @hhoneylix @tunaasan @satsuri3su @acescavern @edusweah @silentcry329 @silentreadersthings @ldysmfrst @idfkeddieishot @zdgx1

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the-one-who-lambs · 6 months ago

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hi hey holy fuck i'm done with this. I tried to render for the first time following a "15 minute" tutorial and my noob ass turned it into a 3 hour learning experience. But now I have Narinder's reference for The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God! Rambles under readmore

SO I BARELY DRAW because I started learning how to draw like... May of last year, and then went bonkers over the summer making lots of progress and once the school year started in august I dropped it to focus on writing... and have drawn basically 1 thing in between then and now. Anyway. Last week I remembered, oh yeah, I used to draw sometimes. And suddenly had an all consuming urge to practice again.

And you know what? I forgot how fucking FUN drawing is. I take it much less seriously than I do my writing so my technique for now is pretty much "go ham and try a bunch of shit because you're getting practice and having fun with it anyway". and it IS fun until I try to do a specific thing and can't figure out how so thanks to those who tuned in to my stream tonight to see me push through the frustrating part of finishing this LMAO. uh according to the krita file this took me 13 and a half hours

If you didn't catch it a while back, the one thing I drew during my kinda-art-hiatus was my Lambert reference! Normal outfit, casual outfit (that they sometimes wear while off-duty, usually when visiting Ratau or just hanging out alone), and wedding outfit ^^

...Which means now that I have my narilamb references I can commission my friends. i have a few people who i already plan to open my wallet for.

"Ive already drawn you fanart for ur fic and now the outfits are very slightly wrong :<" ITS FINE I AM CHERISHING IT FOREVER PLS DONT CHANGE IT ITS PERFECT

"is it okay if i draw your designs" Why do yall think i would be mad about this i will eat that shit UP i would fucking LOVE that and I'm already foaming at the mouth because i'd been asked that a couple times while i was drawing narinder's reference lol

I'm still a beginner and constructive criticism is welcome! Will probably make less intensive references for the OCs in Risen/Fallen or at least draw them, Thenana and Juno for sure

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #narinder #cotl #Hannah draws #digital art #idk how else to tag this

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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iv. anchor me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. hand stuff (f receiving), illusions to the past, bi!frankie.

an: thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after bake off and telling me that i can do the thing.

wordcount: 3.4k

The moment Benny’s (insistent) invite landed in your messages, you had expected the one from Frankie.

Phone in hand, tapping your foot, counting, barely making it to 30 seconds before the banner slid down your screen. Because, of course, the can’t-say-no invitation was on the day the two of you had a scheduled thing.

Unsurprisingly, his simmering annoyance hadn’t vanished when he came to pick you up—another thing insisted—and you came out to meet him.

I’ll pick you up. I can drive there and meet you, save you coming across town. I‘m picking you up. Means I get to make sure you get home okay.

The sound of the car door slamming into place as you lock up, turning to walk towards his vehicle to find him eyeing you up in a way that makes your cheeks burn and you want to hide your face.

He keeps having that effect on you.

Make heat lick up your spine, your brain forget its sentence or thought, and your eyes find themselves unable to stop dropping to his lips .

It’s why it takes all your strength to say, “Eyes up here, Morales.”

He does, although he does take a second. Licking his lips, before doing exactly that. “Do I tell you enough that you look good?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes. More for him. An act, a pretence. Because you’re trying to seem unfazed—attempting to ignore it, the flutters of wings in your stomach.

Having to focus on it more and more when he stops in front of you, the bill of his hat shielding his eyes from the sun, allowing you to see how they drink you in, swallow you. Practically smothering you in simmering heat that makes you want to tear your clothes from your skin.

“You’ve mentioned it a lot lately.”

He doesn’t move, a thing which makes the wings flutter worse. More intense. Practically beating them as you stare at him, fighting the urge to wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours.

To have him. Kiss him.

Remembering as you shift in your shoes, that you’re not with him. This is all an arrangement, a plan—a schedule, a date each week (or two) that Benjamin Miller fucked up.

Nudging him, you wink. “C’mon, I want first dibs of the food Will is cooking before you lot leave me with the scraps.”

You were outside in the backyard an hour, before a water gun soaks you.

Benny’s—of course—a stupid gift you’d purchased him, now used on the neighbours’ kids, with you caught in the crossfire.

By the time you’ve realised, you’re being flooded with apologies. Each coming from Benny’s tongue tenfold, rushing over as though he’d sprayed you in bullets and not water.

Your discussion with Will all but ended with a gasp as you stared down at your now transparent shirt. Watching his eyes lift up, trying not to glance or look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I was—and then—let me show you where the towels are—“

You’re not sure who you laugh at more: Will or Benny. Holding a hand up, accepting one of the many apologies that fall, waving it all off, as your eyes scan the other guests, not finding the one pair of eyes you really want.

“It’s fine—can I, borrow something?” you ask, dropping your voice, “There’s kids around.”

Before Benny has even finished nodding, you make a beeline for the house. The one you know. You’ve been here enough times, dipping in through the side door, feeling your top cling to your skin more uncomfortably than it had outside.

That’s when you stare outside. Noticing that the gathering was closer to a party, it all loud and busy—even from inside. Suddenly grateful for the cover to spend a minute cooling off in the house. An excuse merged with gratefulness when you could hide and slide your shades off—wanting a drink, water, ice.

Suddenly needing a second.

Because all you’d done is eye-fuck your friend. The one you’ve seen naked—the one who looks more than good, and fucks even better.

The one, you suddenly can’t spot.

The glass in your palm lets condensation droplets slide down your wrist. The rim against your bottom lip, staring out at the people laughing, smaller kids being chased by Benny and his water gun. Eyes scanning, nervousness bubbling, mind beginning to worry you’re about to see him with someone else.

Like you have done so many times before .

You’re so lost in it, you don’t hear him, never mind feel him, until his arm snakes around your waist. The man you’d been missing—the one who’d been burning holes into your spine, but never coming over.

Now, though, he’s all warm mouth again to your ear, a whispered shh, as he peels your glass from your hands.

“You’re all wet, querida. We best get you dry.”

And then you’re walking, being led. Moving with ease as Frankie—who you hadn’t even seen come inside—was wrapping his fingers inside yours. Leading you, down the familiar hallway you’d helped paint several years ago, to the bedroom you still called Frankie’s, even if he hadn’t lived here in years.

You remember when you‘d knock on the very door to call for him, or hang out on the other side of the frame.

Frankie and Benny had shared this space before Frankie had found his own. The offer of your spare room had not been good enough—even if he painted it in, not wanting to be an inconvenience. How you’d sit on the bed that’s now for guests, perched, waiting for him before the two of you grabbed food or visited the movies. Simple things—friend things.

It isn’t like that today. His mouth slants over yours as soon as you’re both alone, pressing your back to the wall, devouring, licking into your mouth as you gasp.

Because the two of you could be caught. A shudder spreading out at the idea. The thought of the door being thrown open, making you groan into his mouth.

But, you’re not sure you’d care if you did.

You don’t fucking care if they all found you like this.

Lost, whimpering, desperate—all for him.

Not at his hand places itself around the base of your neck—lightly touching, pressing the smallest amount of pressure down, as he hushes your soft moans. His finger resting against your chin, the others slowly bury themselves in your underwear, giving you more reasons to be loud than be quiet—not something close to friend things.

“You been thinkin’ about me?”

The yes leaves your lips, but it is swallowed by a moan. It travelling from somewhere deep, flowing up, rippling out as you begin to writhe against his touch. Your eyes fixed on his—drowning in brown, sinking in as he curls his fingers inside of you. Beckoning, pleading with you to hand him what it is he wants.

Fuck, you want to give it to him. Had done from the moment you’d arrived, pulled up in the space outside Benny’s home—the former fixer-upper, turned dream house.

Frankie always looked good, even if his wardrobe was minimal. The back of him easy to pick out from a crowd, so broad you’re sure you could draw it with your eyes closed. You’ve stared at it so much—and that was before this all began. This, whatever this mutually beneficial thing is between the two of you, neither of you will properly name.

It’s why you kiss him, needing to taste his groan, lather your tongue in the way he says your name. Pronounces it. It more noticeable when your hand cups him—greeted by the hard outline of him against your palm, all noticeable, barely contained by his cargo pants.

“—tan bonita,” he croaks, throwing your hand away before placing it back to cup your cheek, forcing your head to his, the base of his palm catching your bundle of nerves as he slows his ministrations. “Be good for me, querida. And just focus on being quiet.”

A chaste kiss pressed, a signature on the dotted line—one you agree to as you chase his lips. Just tasting the beer-tinged air of his breath as he continues to bury his fingers inside of you. The sounds of it so vulgar, loud, barely muffled by the strangled whimpers you try to keep back.

“So good for me, tan perfecta.”

Your eyes close, lashes clenching. His whispered words make it harder to stay quiet, to be the thing he’s just told that you are.

And the worst is, you know he knows it. Can feel his smirk against your jaw, the way the tip of his tongue swirls over your pulse as his hip pins you in place, his fingers continuing their wanted assault, keeping your feet rooted to the ground, head barely able to think about anything but this.

“Please,” you ask.

Eyes open, capturing his. Hooking in. Watching him drink it in, your request—your ask.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, more breath than words, right against your cheek, finger drawing circles against your clit. “Always got you, haven’t I?”

It’s electric, and also fire. It surges and licks up your spine as you nod. As your throat goes dry, sound goes fuzzy, before he’s good—to you, for you. Alternating between filling you with the same fingers that built your furniture.

“Doing so well for me,” he says, nose against your cheek, fingers pumping—

In and out.

“Be good though, let me feel you squeeze my fingers—wanna feel you come, querida. Please. Please.”

Your eyes clench, feeling both nothing and everything. Because someone could walk in. Your teeth bite into your lip as you try to keep back the chants of his name. His fingers are so deep, feeling so good.

“Let go, querida.”

It falls from his lips like honey. Sweet. Almost sticky in how it clings to the air as your eyes open, finding him.

The first thing you think is: earlier was nothing on the way he’s staring at you now.

Doing more than devouring, he’s drowning in you—likely unaware you’re doing the same with him.

Each nerve illuminated, your ears slowly buzzing louder and louder as you crash your mouth to his and lick into his mouth as you still, tense and writhe all at once.

Then you are stars, feel yourself unknotting, all at once. In the bedroom that used to be his.

Frankie shouldn’t like seeing you in an old t-shirt of his, but he does.

Unable to tear his eyes away from you as he leads you to two seats, your laugh flowing—something he said under his breath, now forgotten, still swirling through you, forcing your eyes to close and your fingers to dig into his forearm.

He likes you like this—has always liked your laugh.

Blissfully aware that he should, but shit, he can’t take his eyes off you. Even if he knows he needs to—plenty of eyes around, ones who have always teased, always taunted.

You’d be so good together. You pair are so cute.

The comments go on, and on. Have done for years.

Except now, you’re dressed in him.

To most, it’s a simple, old tee splattered with paint. To him, it’s when the group of them painted Ben’s house. His eyes having drank you in, wishing he could wash the paint from your legs, unsure how you’re covered in as much as the wall.

Your clumsiness having painted itself against you, your own clothes ruined, before you’d purposefully (and intentionally) splattered yourself against him when you’d come in for a ‘hug’.

Now, you’re sitting next to him, curled under one leg, shades hiding where your eyes are—but he hopes they’re on him—wishing you’d be on him.

“You dry, querida?”

“Oh, jodete.”

Smirking, he takes a sip of his drink. Licking the front of his teeth, leaning forward.

“Rather fu—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Your tongue traces the bottom of your lip, slowly shaking your head. A part of him wanting to pull you close, have you in his lap. Fuck everything and just give in and—

“So,” Will announces. Suddenly there. Blocking the sun, pointing at an empty chair before he sits beside you.

And Frankie drowns his throat in beer.

He listens, while staring off, as Will asks how your friend is—when she’s back in town, because Ben won’t. You knotting and unknotting the end of the tee around your finger, chatting and chatting.

Something tightening inside of him when he catches sight of you, from the corner of his eye, throwing your head back as Will makes you laugh. Him trying not to grimace each time his friend does so.

Because Will is his friend.

A good one, a great one. Yet, when it comes to you, he always feels inferior. Less than. Somehow more broken more than—

“Fish?”

Will’s voice drags him from his thoughts, blinking. Thumb tracing the neck of his bottle as he nods.

“I said have you heard from Pope?”

He tenses. Frankie feels himself still. Back all straight.

The question cuts through his bubbling thoughts. Suddenly aware of the sound of his own heart in his ears. That knotted ball of things, the one full of rope, strings, steel wire, as it all tightens inside his chest—and in his stomach.

Worst of all, he then feels your eyes land on him. Searching, cutting through the sheets he throws up as walls, desperate to press something warm to him, keep him rooted.

He takes a breath, feeling you willing him to. Appeasing you, even if you’ve not asked verbally, finding himself easily able to.

It’s always easy with you.

Just like it was the night he told you. Confessed it. Whispered it out on the floor, his back to the wall in the same bedroom he just had pressed you against.

I’d suspected it, honestly.

Your fingers brushing, carding through his curls until you pulled his head into your chest. A whole other sea of emotions bubbling, both of his long loves out of reach—even if one had their fingers buried in his curls, attempting to soothe him. The rest of his confession dying on his tongue, letting it rot, fester.

Because that one was and still is harder to confess.

It desperate to escape. Almost coming out the night you’d suggested he found you repulsive. Not knowing how wrong you were—

“Um…” you murmur, eyes digging further into him, practically clawing. Not to hurt, but to pull him back. “I don’t think I have—not since before?”

Frankie swallows. His heart hammering heavier, lifting his eyes and landing on you—and it all goes calm. Your face, like it always has been, is like a blanket that smothers the leftover hurt and anguish, an anchor that roots him in place.

“N-no. Not heard a thing,” he says, as plain as possible. Direct. Trying to hide the shake.

Because he can still feel your eyes on him. Focused, unwilling to leave his face as Will mutters and mumbles about something until he’s shouted away, beckoned by an overzealous neighbour, Frankie plants a smile on for, not moving to greet or speak to.

You say nothing.

But you do lift your shades. Smothering him in warmth and kindness, and a bit of sorrow too. Your teeth nursing the skin on your bottom lip, picking and picking.

Fuck he wishes he could tell you.

He wishes he could tell you that Pope knew—knows. Had already guessed it. Teased him on it before he dragged it out of him in the cold, rainy depths of Colombia.

You just have a thing for friends, Fish. That it!

It had ripped from his throat then. Shooting, spitting in mixed English and Spanish as he told Pope his feelings for you—how long they’d been there.

How they were messy. The same as his feelings had been for him. That they churned and turned for months with the conflicting ones he had for him.

That it has shaped him—the thing that neither of them talk about, but had let happen the handful of times it did.

And now he was repeating himself, but differently. This time, he suspected there was something more there. Something there in your eyes in the moments after he’s brought you to pleasure, it twinkling, it licking into his mouth when you kiss him, softer, desperate in a different way.

“Are you okay?”

“Come to mine. Tonight. After.”

You release your bottom lip. Staring. Thinking. “Are you going to take me home after?”

He tries not to let his face shift, but he fails. It falls and drops out over his features as you take a sip from the bottle in your hand.

“Frank…”

“You like my bed.”

You roll your eyes, brow slightly arched. You’re faking annoyance, he can tell. He can tell because you’re ticking, pondering. Weighing up the options of what difference one night would make to your principles.

“It’s not because of that.”

“No?” you say, arched brow and laced in sarcasm.

Fuck, he wants to take your hands. Pull them to his face. Because he doesn’t feel like that for him anymore. He hasn’t. Not for a long time.

Not since before he showed up with his plan, and his lies, and his mission that ended with Redfly’s death.

He wanted to let it roll from his tongue that he meant it that first night. That he has hated all of your exes for the reason you must think, deep down—the one you’re unwilling to question or acknowledge for the same reasons he won’t.

Because he’s scared. Because he knows he’s only worthy of being a dirty secret—not something real. Not something stable and concrete, things you truly deserve.

And, he wants to respect your wishes, your rules. But, he also wants to wake up beside you in his bed. Wanting nothing more than to have his cake and eat it too, because how could he not? How could he not want you there for one morning, when he wants you there every single day?

That thought was the one he had shouted, it burning the air between him and the man he now doesn’t hear from.

You gonna tell her? Depends on if we fuckin’ get outta here, doesn’t it?

He didn’t. Even if he did make it out, make it back. You in his arms, sobbing, worries running from your mouth to his ear as he held you—silently sobbing into your shoulder for reasons he has never explained.

Which is precisely why he doesn’t reach for your hands. It’s why he lets the silence thicken before he answers.

Because he knows he loves you.

“No,” he says firmly.

Hoping it’ll be enough. Hoping the finality of the word will inform you that, if anything, it’s in spite of the memory of his former friend, former brother-in-arms, former…

“I live closer to here,” he shrugs. Not wanting to admit that it’s for any other reason. “Means we’d be quicker to—“

“Morales!” you cut him off.

All stern, cute—as though he hadn’t had his fingers buried inside of you half an hour ago in his old room.

“How have you been sleeping?”

It’s a simple question, easy. Your lips around the straw, draining your cup before placing it on the grass, next to his empty bottle.

His fingers reaching up, itching the front of his fringe under his hat—your eyes following his movements, holding on to them, adding them to the mental notebook you’ve likely made.

Frankie shouldn’t be surprised that you remembered. The trip that lasted more days than it should have and left its own marks on you, too. Scarred you in ways that you can’t explain or ever get rid of.

“Fine. I guess, just…”

“I know,” you say with a faint smile. Forced. Placed there to soothe him, but it doesn’t do much.

You don’t play with the radio.

You don’t even really talk. Just drumming your fingers on the door, staring outside, letting streets pass the two of you, until he pulls up outside his place.

All the way, he thinks about apologising.

For everything, and yet for nothing all at once. His eyes sliding over to you as he drove down roads, turned his chin a little more to gather more of you as he turned a corner.

You don’t look at him until he turns the engine off. Head rolling on the back of the seat, the softest, most beautiful smile on your lips—one he wants to taste, feel moulded to his mouth. Capture and steal it, in case he never gets the chance to again.

“If you say you’ll stay, you haven’t broken the rules,” he whispers.

It is all quiet, except for the little noises made by the car as it cools and relaxes from its journey here.

Frankie hears you swallow, and then sigh.

“Won’t I be?”

Shaking his head, he turns to face you on the plastic seat. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking soft lines, hoping it’ll ease you. Relax you.

“If you prefer me to take you home—“

Your eyes drop.

“—then I will. But…”

Your eyes flash back up to him, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Even under twinkling lights, he can see each fleck of colour in them.

“But?” you whisper.

And he drags his thumb across your skin. “I just really want you to stay, for tonight.”

Sliding your lips to the side, your fingers move over his, pressing his palm to your cheek, giving him a smile—a gentle one, reassuring, sweet. “I want the right side. When you let me sleep.”

Smirking, he nudges closer, going to kiss you, but finding himself pressing a kiss to your forehead—one brimming with a smile.

Only realising he’s done so when he retracts.

Little lines appearing in your brow, gone, vanished in the next second, because then you’re moving closer, your lips on his—and for a brief, but pleasant moment, he forgets all of this isn’t real.

Falls into it, lets himself live there as he runs his hand up your thigh, before he’s dragging it over his. Uncaring that there’s a bed some so many feet away, he just runs his hands over your cheeks, along your jaw, thumbs on your neck—as he groans against your mouth.

Swallowing your moan, he fights a smirk at the way you rock your hips against him. Hand moving to your hip, pinning you—chasing your lips before kissing you again, and again.

Not ever having enough. Always wanting more.

As he has done for years. As he’s thought about for years.

Because there may have been others, but since he let himself think it, it’s always been you. A notion he kisses against your lips, writing them with his tongue against yours, content, happy.

“Can’t wait to spread you out on my bed, querida.”

He feels your lips spread into a smirk against his. “Can’t wait to have your cock down my throat again, Morales.”

He groans. Loud, almost undignified. Unsure how he got to be so lucky. Your fingers digging into the base of his neck.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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lizardboiii · 10 months ago

Text

ANGER MANAGEMENT┃R. Sukuna

[Possessive!Sukuna x Fem!Reader]

・❥・

│Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.

“You're an insufferable bastard and I hope you move.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Fuck you.”

・❥・

│cw: 18+, Slight NSFW, vulgar language, younger sibling behavior

│w/c: 4.5k

│chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii)

│notes: Quality sibling time is enhanced with spaghetti propaganda. NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!

・❥・

│Chapter II : INFURIATED

Hiding from your problems was one thing, but hiding from someone who lived directly next door was another. After your little ‘session’, guilt struck you like a truck. There was no way you could look Sukuna in the eyes in your current state.

So, here you were today sitting at home like always but with one thing different. Obnoxiously loud rock music barreled through your apartment like a hurricane. Your walls shook vigorously with every base drop.

Now normally you’d give your sweetheart neighbor a pleasant surprise visit, but not today. You had gone two days in a row without seeing his face, and you definitely needed another week to even hear his voice.

Cringing, you thought back to how you've been practically sneaking out of your own apartment when leaving for work. It was routine at this point, poke your head out, look both directions, and make a b-line for the elevator. You were surprised with how well it was actually working out.

Sighing in defeat you swaddled yourself with a blanket on your couch in some hope of drowning out the music. You groaned when you noticed the music somehow getting louder.

That’s it. Whipping up to your feet, you haphazardly threw your blanket to the ground and stormed over to your door. Practically tearing the door off its hinges, you entered the hall virtually frothing at the mouth.

Your anger carried you over to Sukuna’s door with a quickly extinguishing confidence. You stood before the white door and bit your lip. You’d be able to look at him, right? You didn’t even really do anything bad, right?

Letting out a deep sigh you facepalmed. You were by no means a coward, but right now you felt like one. Raising your fist to knock, you held it still in another moment of hesitation. Should you just suck it up and go home?

However, fate had chosen for you as the door suddenly swung open up to a taken aback Sukuna. His eyebrows rose at your smaller figure, hand still lingering in the air.

You were quick to put your hand down, “Could you turn down the music?”

Sukuna leered at you, “No yelling this time?”

Flashes from two days ago entered your brain. Sukuna’s rough voice, deep and dangerously addictive.

Shamefully, you bore your eyes into the floor and mumbled, “Just turn the damn music down.”

You heard Sukuna shift above you, a thoughtful hum passing through his lips, “I can’t hear you.”

You shoved your heels into the ground, “Turn down the music, please.”

Sukuna whistled, “And a 'please' too? What’s gotten into you, piggy?”

You felt like you could tear your hair out. Looking back up at him through your lashes you scowled at him. His red eyes scanned your face with such amusement you wanted to punch him again.

“Turn down the fucking music, scum.”

Sukuna smiled wildly. You noted how his pearly white teeth held a slight sharpness to them. Like a predator.

“No.”

You snarled at his pleased expression. What the hell did you even expect? In the spur of the moment an idea shot through your head as you glanced behind him. His dreaded speaker sat passively on his kitchen counter, music still flowing out of it in waves.

“Move.”

Sukuna raised his brow before you shoved his body aside and stormed in. You’d never been in his place before, only catching glimpses whenever you fought.

The room smelled faintly of a sharp woodsy scent, something you recognized but weren’t sure from where. Scanning the entrance you noticed his place was the same layout as your own apartment only flipped.

It was surprisingly neat too. The entire place was organized without a single dish in the sink. You cringed when you thought back to the state of your own apartment. He put you to shame.

A large hand hastily grabbed the back of your collar and pulled, choking you in the process, “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

You grabbed Sukuna��s hand and tried to pry it off, “If your so incapable of turning down your own music your poor considerate neighbor will help.”

Sukuna pulled your form closer to his chest, “I don’t think so, rat.”

You struggled against his grasp causing his other arm to wrap tightly around your waist. You cursed under breath at the secure hold.

Sukuna leaned down into your ear and chuckled, “Listen if you wanted in so bad you could’ve just asked.”

You swallowed hard at your predicament. Pressed up against him, you could feel the outline of his toned chest engulfing your back. His arms felt impossibly muscular, trapping you tightly with them.

Slowly, the hand that fit snugly against your waist made its way higher, directly pushing underneath your breasts.

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear the thumping in your ears, “Get off.”

Sukuna’s other hand moved from the collar of your shirt to roughly grab your chin. Harshly pulling your face up, he grinned at your panicked expression, “What if I don’t want to?”

Your face burned at his proximity. Too close. Trying to pull your face away, you winced when Sukuna’s calloused hands squeezed your face harder. The crescent of his nails dug into your skin creating small droplets of blood.

Trying to ignore the ache in your cheeks, you glared into his sharpened eyes. You could swear their eerie red shone brighter. Swallowing, you watched him glance from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes again.

You internally scolded yourself as you found your eyes doing the same. However, you lingered on his lips for far longer. They looked soft. The curve of his cupid's bow looked as if they might even fit perfectly with yours.

Mindlessly, you felt yourself lean forward into him, eyes still locked on his lips. How would he taste? Minty? Or perhaps sweeter?

You bit your lip and forced yourself to draw back, this was not the time to be seduced by your neighbor. A dark chuckle made you return your eyes back up to deep red ones.

“Scared of a little kiss?” Sukuna pulled you forwards, lips just grazing your own, “Or just scared you’ll like it.”

Your body shivered as you closed your eyes, “Fuck off.”

SLAM

“BROTHERRRRRR!!”

You flinched so hard at the new voice you thought your soul left your body. Tearing your face away from Sukuna’s grip, you tried to shove him off you. Sukuna’s grip reluctantly gave way as he turned his attention to the new intruder.

“Yuuji,” you swallowed hard at the venom that laced Sukuna’s voice, “Why are you here so early?”

Yuuji merely scratched the back of his neck laughing off his brother’s bitterness, “I figured since I was late last time I’d come a bit early today!”

Sukuna rubbed his face with a deep sigh, “Of course you did.”

You sucked in your cheeks at an oblivious Yuuji. You had to thank the kid though. He just saved your sorry ass from becoming a certain playboy’s next victim of the night.

Pouting at his brother, Yuuji’s eyes eventually found you, “Hey (y/n)! How’s it going?”

You shrugged, “Better now.”

Glancing over, you side eyed an irritated Sukuna. He glared down at you with disdain as you threw him a fake sympathetic look.

“Are you here for dinner too?” Yuuji smiled brightly as he pulled two full grocery bags from behind his back.

“No-” “Yep!”

You quickly cut off Sukuna with a malicious grin. Hey, if you had to suffer through his music he could afford you a meal.

A large hand started shoving your back towards the door, “No. She was just leaving.”

You dug your feet into the ground, pushing against him, “Hey!”

“What!? No way! You have to stay!” Yuuji jumped in front of your path waving his arms frantically, “We have more than enough to spare anyway!”

Sukuna’s hands moved to grip your shoulders tightly, “I’m feeling pretty hungry.”

“Pleaseeeeeee,” Yuuji held his hands out in prayer.

You flinched as Sukuna’s grip strengthened, “Fine. She can stay for just dinner.”

Yuuji shot his hands up in the air in victory, “Yes! Let’s get cooking!”

You smiled at his cheery form. He was just as bright as the first time you ran into him.

・❥・

A soft knock rang out through your apartment as you sat on your couch painting your nails. Sighing heavily you set your polish down and shook your hand to dry it. Blowing on your freshly drying nails you opened the door to see…a familiar figure???

Your eyes widened at the sight of a tinier Sukuna. Though, this one had light brown eyes that looked as if they were melted gold. His hair was messier too, with black roots below his matching pink hair which contrasted with Sukuna’s pure pink look.

In some sick coincidence his face sported two tiny birthmarks under his eyes that matched the two tattoos under Sukuna’s eyes. There was no doubt he was another spawn from wherever the hell Sukuna crawled out of.

You stared at his form in a stupor, “Uh, hello?”

The boy’s eyes widened in confusion as he frantically looked at you then down to a scrap of paper in his hand, “Uhhhh, sorry I think I have the wrong apartment!”

You laughed at his troubled expression, “I take it you're related to another certain pink haired gentleman?”

You gagged in your mind. Gentleman your ass.

The boy ruffled his hair and laughed tiredly, “Right on the mark.”

You pointed to the door next to yours, “One over.”

He followed your finger and smiled brightly, “Ah, thank you so much…”

You lifted your hand, “(y/n) (l/n).”

“Itadori Yuuji! I’m here visiting my brother,” He firmly grasped your hand and shook it.

You felt taken aback by the strange interaction. It felt like you were in some alternate dimension with a normal well behaved Sukuna.

“Well Yuuji, I must say you are far more pleasant than that brother of yours, that’s for sure.”

Yuuji laughed, “I get that a lot.”

You matched his smile with your own, “It was nice meeting you, Yuuji. I hope to see you around some time, it’s nice to have a civil conversation for once.”

Why couldn’t this one have moved in next door?

“Same here, see you around (y/n)!” Yuuji threw you a salute before spinning on his heel.

You watched as he trudged over to the correct apartment and knocked. Poor kid, having to deal with that asshole for a brother. Not bothering to have another altercation with Sukuna, you quickly retreated into your apartment and returned to your nails. Grumbling when you noticed you managed to smear one.

・❥・

You smiled fondly at the memory as you watched Yuuji cook from the kitchen’s island counter. To your astonishment you managed to run into him far more than you thought you would after your first encounter. He surprisingly visited Sukuna several times a week.

Soon enough, you managed to find out he went to the local university as a student. He lived in the freshman dorms but stayed with Sukuna whenever he wanted some alone time. You grimised at the thought of Sukuna being a safe haven. As if.

Speaking of the devil, Sukuna stood next to Yuuji cutting up tomatoes for the spaghetti sauce. As much as you liked watching him slave away for you, you figured you might as well help out as a courtesy for Yuuji.

You called out from the counter, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Yuuji hummed, “You're our guest, no need to worry!”

Sukuna scoffed next to him, “It’s better if she doesn’t get her hands on the food anyway. Who knows what she’d put in it.”

You frowned, “I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic cook!”

Sukuna turned to you with a sly grin, “Is that why I constantly hear your fire alarm going off?”

Clenching your fist on the table you snarled, “Some foods are better burnt!”

His eyebrows turned inward, “Like what?”

You chewed on your lip looking for an answer before you abruptly stood up and walked over to him. Snagging up a knife, you held your hand out for a tomato.

“I’ll show you how good I am.”

Sukuna held your gaze tauntingly before he dropped a small tomato in your hand, “Then show me.”

You huffed and set the tomato down on the cutting board. Slicing, you went slow trying to make all the cuts even. You scowled as your plan failed, only making your cuts even more uneven.

Turning to Sukuna, you looked to see how he was faring. There was no way he was doing that much better than you.

Your eye twitched in disbelief as you watched him cut through tomatoes at the speed of light, each slice perfect.

Sukuna side eyed you, “Need some help?”

You growled and slammed your knife into the tomato harder, “No.”

You halted your movements when you heard an annoyed sigh and the drop of a knife. Casually, Sukuna placed himself behind you and wrapped his arms around either side of you. His left hand immediately grabbed your own and helped you hold the tomato steady while his right assisted your cutting.

“No need to take it so slow,” Sukuna lifted your hand and brought it down firmly, “A good rhythm is all you need.”

You grumbled and followed his movements, the feeling of his body becoming a lot more apparent.

Sukuna leaned into your ear, “Just like that.”

You flushed as he sped up his pace, slicing the tomato faster. Your senses felt on overdrive as you drowned in his cologne, something you ignored earlier in favor of staring at his lips. You held the knife harder trying to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

“You're doing so good for me.”

The knife sliced through the final chunk with blaringly loud ringing. You felt like you were on fire.

“Good girl.”

Keeping your gaze on the chopped tomato, you prayed Yuuji was too preoccupied to look to his left. But just as quickly as your tomato was cut, Sukuna’s warmth was gone.

Wordlessly, you glanced to your left at a humming Yuuji. You flinched in surprise when you noticed him glance over as well. He threw you a cheeky grin and raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between you and Sukuna.

Your jaw twitched as you playfully punched him, “Quite, brat. I just needed help with cutting.”

Yuuji smiled smugly, “Sureeeee~”

Another punch to his arm sent him into a laughing fit. Little brat. You were starting to see the Sukuna in him right now.

・❥・

Laying on your stomach on the living room floor, your mouth was watering at the smell exiting the kitchen. You sighed pitifully as your stomach groaned. How much longer?

The blessing ding of a timer made your head snap up in the direction of the oven. An equally carnivorous Yuuji rocketed through the kitchen and grabbed a testing spoon. You watched fervently as he tasted the sauce.

With a hungry grin Yuuji turned to you, “It is complete.”

You jumped to your feet and made a mad dash to the kitchen, “Finally!”

Like starved animals you both hastily grabbed plates and began dumping pounds of freshly made spaghetti on them. Yuuji snagged a pitcher of water before he claimed a seat at the table as you followed in suit.

Excitedly, Yuuji lifted his filled fork up to his mouth only for a hand to grab his head. Sukuna frowned at him, “You didn’t save any for me, brat.”

Hearing his words you looked at Yuuji and then the empty pot. Sheepishly scratching the back of your head, you grabbed a spare plate and began dumping your extra servings onto it. Hesitantly, Yuuji coughed up some of his own before placing the plate down in front of Sukuna’s seat.

Sukuna merely sighed at your childishness and pulled out his chair to sit down in front of you. You were thankful you weren’t sitting next to him but you weren’t sure if sitting across from him was any better.

Twirling your fork in your noodles, you watched the brothers playfully interact. Yuuji shook his fork in defense at Sukuna who was attempting to steal more food. The two argued like a married couple.

You smiled softly at the sight before a soft pang hit your heart. You thought back to your own family. The home cooked meals, careless banter, attentive family members. But that was long gone. You had run from them like you always ran from everything.

Your mistakes had done enough damage for a lifetime, you couldn’t afford to be in the presence of their sympathetic eyes.

“(y/n)?”

You glanced over to a concerned Yuuji. Well, concerned from what you could tell. Sukuna’s hand took over most of his face as he was shoved away.

You let out a puff of air at the sight, “Hm?”

“PROTECT MY LAST MEATBALL!”

Your eyes widened as Yuuji flung a stray meatball from his fork at you.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You scrambled to catch the loose meat before it hit the floor, recoiling at the wet feeling of the sauce. The sudden screech of a chair indicated a pissed Sukuna bolting from his seat.

“Put that down!”

You panicked as Sukuna stormed over to you. A quick flash of Yuuji throwing his hands over his head asking you to pass made you sigh.

Sukuna picked up his pace, “DON’T YOU DARE!”

In defiance, you chucked the meatball at Yuuji as Sukuna reached you. The sphere flew through the air before Yuuji caught it in his hand. Sukuna snarled as he lunged at Yuuji.

Laughing hysterically, Yuuji threw the meatball back at you as Sukuna wrestled him to the ground. Catching the meatball, you gaped at the pair of brothers fighting.

Yuuji flung his body around wildly trying to escape Sukuna’s relentless hold. A swift kick to Sukuna’s face made you snort.

Yuuji screamed when Sukuna regained the upper hand causing you to grab the counter trying to catch your breath. You shook uncontrollably as your laughter slowly became unstoppable.

“KAHH, (Y/N) HELP ME!!!!”

Yuuji struggled on the ground as Sukuna pinned his arms behind his back. You sucked air through your teeth at the sight, “You're on your own for this one, pal.”

Yuuji cried out as Sukuna slammed his body down one last time before he lashed at you, “Throw that shit away right now.”

You smirked at his aggravated expression before dropping the meatball to the ground, “Opps.”

The precious meatball landed on the tiled kitchen floor with a sickening plop. All at once Yuuji cried out in loss as Sukuna yelled in frustration. Letting go of his brother, Sukuna sprinted at your form.

You laughed harder and ran behind the island counter. Sukuna slammed his hands on the marbled surface as he glared at you from across, “Clean that shit up, right now.”

You flipped him off, “Kiss my ass.”

You yelped in surprise when Sukuna abruptly hurled himself over the counter and grabbed you. Pulling you over the island, he picked you up by your hips and threw you unceremoniously over his shoulder.

You lifted yourself up on his shoulders and pounded on his back, “Put me down, asshole!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

You cried out when he ruthlessly threw you down on the couch. Your body bounced up and down from the force as you scowled up at an annoyed Sukuna. Beside you, Yuuji lay drained on the floor as he cracked up laughing at Sukuna's pissed face.

Crossing his arms, Sukuna frowned at you both, “You’ll both be cleaning my kitchen if you ever plan to leave this place alive.”

You glanced at Yuuji who gave you a look before he mocked Sukuna, “Who died and made you king?”

The stomach-turning cracking of Sukuna’s knuckles shut Yuuji up immediately, “I mean, yes sir!”

You smiled, “I suppose I could help as well.”

Getting up from your spot, you and Yuuji quickly got to work cleaning the mess. Yuuji washed the dirty dishes while you sat on the floor scrubbing the sauce the meatball left off.

Wiping up the soapy water from the floor, your brows creased as legs came into your view. Glancing up you frowned at a smirking Sukuna.

“That’s a good look for you.”

You sat up from your crouched position and rubbed your back, “What do you mean?”

“On your knees in front of me.”

You choked on your spit, “What-”

Smooth laughter mocked you as you quickly stood to your feet. You crossed you arms and glared at him, “Your fucking disgusting.”

Sukuna leaned his back against the counter, “Damn, and I was getting used to the view.”

You threw your dirtried rag at his face. A swift hand easily caught it and threw it back. Agitated, you tossed it on the counter, “You're insufferable.”

Sukuna laughed, “You're an easy target.”

Before you could wring his throat, a cheery Yuuji let out a loud exaggerated sigh, “I can’t believe the night is almost over.”

Thank god. You were starting to realize how much you hated Sukuna again.

“Wait!” You flinched at Yuuji’s mood switch, “Let’s watch a movie!”

“Absolutely not.”

Yuuji pouted at his brother's words, “Come on! I never get to hang with (y/n)! I bet you get to all the time!”

You internally cringed. Like you’d ever willingly hang out with Sukuna alone.

Yuuji huffed as he realized his begging was getting nowhere with Sukuna. Finding another solution Yuuji turned his attention to you.

Throwing you puppy eyes Yuuji stuck out his lower lip, “Pleaseee!”

“No-” “Alright.”

Cutting off Sukuna, you resigned yourself to Yuuji’s pouting. What can you say, you were a sucker for the golden retriever ones. At least your presence would annoy Sukuna.

Yuuji smiled, “Alright!”

You sighed, “What movie?”

Yuuji scratched his chin, “Anything with Jennifer Lawrence.”

You deadpanned at his response. Of course.

Once you finished cleaning you were quickly moved by Yuuji into the open living room. Claiming a seat on the end of Sukuna’s couch, you curled up in a ball and watched Yuuji scroll through Netflix.

He currently sat on the floor with his back propped up against the edge of the couch. A pillow tucked comfortably behind his back. Sukuna, on the other hand, sat on the opposite end of the couch, his legs taking up the rest of the L shape.

“Just pick a damn movie already.”

Yuuji huffed, “Then you pick!”

Sukuna rested his head on his fist, “No.”

Yuuji exclaimed a loud sigh before settling on a random movie, “If this sucks, that's on you.”

Sukuna moved his foot to kick Yuuji in the back of the head, making him yelp and rub his scalp. You shook your head at their antics and tried to focus on the start of the movie.

You blinked when a certain female character came on screen. Jennifer Lawrence. You looked at Yuuji who was staring at the screen intensely. Shoving your fist into your mouth, you tried to contain your laughter. At least he’ll be happy even if the movie blows.

・❥・

Sweltering.

You were so hot you felt like you were dying.

Attempting to turn to your side you froze when you realized you couldn’t. Peaking your eyes open, your mouth dropped when you came face to chest with a larger body.

It didn’t take you long to realize you were cuddled up with Sukuna on the longer portion of the couch.

His right arm curled suggestively around your waist and rested on your hip bone. While your own arm clung possessively over his chest.

You gawked at the situation. Internally freaking out, you tried to free yourself as quickly and as quietly as possible. You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie, but how you got in this position was beyond you.

Gently slipping out of Sukuna’s loose grip, you carefully sat up. You blinked again in confusion when a newly appeared blanket slipped off you and cascaded down onto Sukuna’s chest. That wasn’t there either last night.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and checked the time on your phone, 3:04am. Shit it was late. You’ve definitely overstayed your welcome.

Moving to stand up, you jolted when a large hand captured your wrist and pulled you back. Its frigid temperature cooled the aching heat of your skin.

Quickly, you snapped your head over to what you thought was a sleeping Sukuna in shock. His head laid lazily on top of his folded arm as his tired eyes took in your shape.

“Where are you going?”

You shivered at the raspiness that took hold of his voice, “Home.”

A shift from below you made you tear your gaze away from him. Looking at the floor, you eyed a sprawled out Yuuji who was snoring loudly in the center of the living room.

“Why?” Sukuna’s thumb slowly traced circles in your wrist, almost enticing you to stay.

You went to answer before strong arms captured your waist, “Just stay. It’s already late.”

You clutched the previously discarded blanket as Sukuna’s hands rubbed up and down your sides, feeling every curve you had to offer.

Slowly, a hand crept underneath your shirt caressing your bare skin. Its icy touch shot sparks through your entire body.

“I can’t.”

You shuddered when your shirt lifted slightly as soft lips kissed your lower back. Their fullness sensually traced the dip of your spine before lifting away.

“Stay,” A rough thumb swiped tantalizingly slow underneath your waistband, ghosting over your v-line.

All you could manage was a silent nod as Sukuna’s arms pulled you back into him. His straying hands returned back to your stomach and clutched your body close. You closed your eyes and allowed him to bury himself in the crook of your neck.

His faint breath tickled your neck slightly before his lips started to trail the curve of your shoulder. You gasped lightly when he stopped near the crevasse of your neck and bit hard. He sucked and nipped at the spot making you tremble before he licked it clean.

Pushing his face further into your newly formed bruise you heard his breathing even out, signaling him falling asleep. Once soft snores entered your ear you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Allowing yourself to melt in his grasp you sighed, were you still dreaming? When you wake up will that mark still be there or was this just another one of your perverse hallucinations?

You squeezed your eyes shut. A small part of you prayed it wasn’t the last. That it was real. But you’d never admit that.

Tonight you’d allow yourself to be wrapped up in intoxicating arms. The hatred that filled them turned still until the morning. Once you woke up you’d go back to how things were. The buffer of Yuuji no longer containing the festering anger that crawled beneath your skin.

You’d go back to despising Sukuna.

｡･:*˚:✧⤷

・❥・

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 3 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 No. 9- Obsession

Hero stirred to the feeling of bumping and jostling while wrapped in something warm. They didn’t remember falling asleep. They went to open their eyes, and a blurry, dark world came into view. There… wasn't much to see.

“Op~, you're not meant to be awake just yet,” a voice cooed.

Something soft pressed up against their face, and Hero inhaled a sweet aroma. Their eyes fluttered shut, and they were asleep once more.

…

This time when Hero stirred, they were allowed to properly wake up. They opened their eyes and waited for their vision to clear. They squinted against warm lighting and gazed around a room that wasn't theirs. Pictures of themselves were plastered on every wall, some newspaper clippings, others amateur photographs. Some, if not many, of the photographs looked to be taken from very suspicious angles. Little hearts hung next to some of the pictures.

Hero was not used to the concept of having fans. Sure, they had them, but they had never gotten comfortable with the idea, preferring to leave an area before the crowd of reporters and excited civilians found them. Whoever had taken them seemed to be more than just a fan though. Hero went to sit up, but their body wouldn't cooperate. The warm bed they lay in suddenly became suffocating. The blankets felt like lead weights, and the heat was stifling. Hero tried pushing up with ice shards, but their power wouldn't come.

It was in the middle of this slight panic that the door opened. The figure in the doorway gasped with delight.

“You’re awake!”

The figure practically skipped over. They removed the blankets from Hero’s upper body. Hero expected the relief of cool air to wash over them, but the room was just as warm as the bed. Hero tried sitting up again, but to no avail.

“Aw, do you need some help?” the stranger cooed.

They sat Hero up against the pillows. Hero noticed an IV line in their arm. They followed the tubing with their eyes, seeing a pole with bags of strangely-colored fluid inside. Was this why they could barely move?

“Gotta say, I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you I thought this day would never come! Well, I mean, I knew it would come eventually, based on my plans, but I didn’t know when I’d get you alone. You are a slippery one, hahaha!”

“Who are you?” Hero asked quietly.

They could barely speak, let alone raise their voice.

“I’m Civilian!” the stranger answered, “and your new partner!”

“…What?”

“Hm… that sedative must be making you slow,” Civilian tutted sympathetically, “that’s okay, I’ll explain it as much as you need me to.”

Civilian ruffled Hero’s hair. Hero shuddered at the touch.

“I’ve planned it all out! Today, our first meeting. Next week, first date. A month from now? Who knows! Of course, we’ll go at your pace, I won’t rush your feelings. They’ll come in their own time.”

Hero glanced at the IV pole then back to Civilian. Civilian tilted their head, then giggled in realization.

“I made that solution just for you,” Civilian said, “I know waking up in a new life can be scary, and that you’d probably do something impulsive once you did, so I took your recklessness out of the equation completely!”

Civilian tapped the bag.

“Thermal serum to keep you from making any ice, and a mild sedative so you won’t freak out. See, I’ve thought of everything!”

Oh, but Hero was freaking out, quite a lot actually; their body just wouldn’t show it.

“Let…me…go…”

Civilian carded their hand through Hero’s hair.

“Haha, no, I won’t be doing that. Not now, not ever.”

“People will be looking for me,” Hero said, “you have to let me go.”

“Oh I’m sure they will,” Civilian said, a certain glee in their voice that frightened Hero.

Civilian showed Hero a newspaper.

Beloved Hero Missing.

Early this morning, an anonymous caller told police that they saw Hero being overpowered by notorious criminal, Villain. They claim to have followed Villain to the docks, where the criminal promptly climbed aboard a ship heading to Morocco, the unconscious Hero in their arms. More details to come as we learn them.

Civilian read the front page to Hero in a giddy voice.

“I made sure to put on a good performance for those cops,” they said, “and I used a pay phone, so they won’t be tracking that call.”

Hero stared up at Civilian with wide eyes.

“See, I’ve thought of everything! Now we can be together forever!”

Civilian hugged Hero’s near-limp form. Hero was too weak and in too much shock to protest. Villains kidnapping them? That they could deal with. This person had thought of everything though, they had even found a way to disable their powers. How were they ever going to get out of this?

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

#whumptober2024 #no. 9 #obsession #original content #fic #drugging #yandere #writeblr #writing #creative writing #whump #heroes and villains #kidnapping #hero x villain #yandere x darling #yandere whumper #hero darling

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billsbabydoll · 5 months ago

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“𝒷ℯ 𝒶 𝑔ℴℴ𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒽𝓂?”

contains:LIGHT ANGST+PURE SMUT<3

summary:after a huge fight with tom, things have been so tense between us hes been sleeping on the couch ever since, completely avoiding me.growing annoyed and frustrated at my stubbornness tom caves in, finding a way to make me forgive him.

WARNINGS:dom!tom, sub!reader, arguing, p in v (from the side i guess :p), pet-names, hair pulling, fingering, SLIGHT breeding kink.

notes:tysmmm for the followers i appreciate and love everyone single one you!

“your a fucking stupid whore!” tom yells towarding above me, pointing his finger angrily at me.

“oh yeah whatever tom fuck you, motherfucker!” i snap back getting closer up into his face, my anger coursing through my veins.

this was a couple days ago when tom came home bitching about whatever stupid thing he was going on about, he then started fussing at me which caused me to get annoyed and ultimately started a huge argument between us.

by now ive already forgotten what caused this whole argument in the first place, since the fight weve both been dead ignoring each other, both too petty to admit our wrongings.hes being petty to the point wheres hes even sleeping on the couch just to a prove a point, but i know hell crack any day now.

*TOMS POV*

its been almost a week since this whole mess, and im going crazy, completely crazy.in the past when we would fight wed make up in 2-3 days but i guess shes waiting for me to apologize first, and honestly i cant keep living like this anymore.i need to make her forgive me even if it means fucking the shit out of her just the way she likes it.

currently she was sleeping peacefully (not for long) in our bed, the tv playing quietly in the background.i slowly open the door making my inside the room, softly closing the door behind me.

*BACK TO ORIGINAL POV*

i stir awake feeling the bed dip behind me as tom slipped into the covers moving closer, his arms finding their way around my waist.

“what are y-you doing here?”i tiredly asked my voice slightly cracking.

“oh..cmon babyy.”he whispered softly in my ear his voice rather seductive almost pulling me into a trace like state.

“you can’t stay mad at me forever you know. forgive me, i know you wanna..”he adds his voice so addicting and mesmerizing he knew i couldnt resist him when he would talk like that.he removes his left hand away from my hip now intertwining it into my hair, tightly grabbing a fist-full of it.

“just s-shut up, go away.”i responded playing hard to get but in reality the least i wanted him to do was to go away, i wanted for him to put out the burning desire starting in my core.

he chuckles lowly seeing right through my fake facade he moves his right hand away from my hip.now inserting and reaching his hand into my pajama shorts, his fingers effortlessly finding their way in between my slick wet folds.

“see your all ready f’me baby, not so mad now huh?”he teased, i could practically hear the damn smug smirk on his face.he begins to glide the tips of his fingers up and down my folds causing me to croak a whimper.

“mmh-fuck..” i mumble trying to suppress the moans his toying of my cunt were causing me.

he continues rubbing and sliding his gently fingers around my sex before inserting his middle and ring finger inside my cunt, moving them inside me in a “come here” gesture.

“you like that?tell me how good it feels hm..” he coos, enjoying the sounds of me crumbling and falling into his submission.

“mmugh!f-feels so fucking good!”i whimper my mouth hanging open, my eyes rolling back as i feel his fingers building a harsh and brutal speed, his other hand tugging and pulling on my hair harder and harder.

he suddenly stops, causing me to whine out of frustration.he removes his hand out of shorts bringing them up to my lips, “open your mouth.”he says.

i obliged without hesitation taking his fingers into my mouth, cringing at the taste of myself on his fingers.

next he lets go of my hair, using his now free left hand to pull his plaid pajama pants and boxers down just enough for his dripping with pre-cum-cock to spring out then also helping me pull my shorts and panties down.

“be a good girl hm?”he groans ready to just to cum right on the stop its been so long without feeling my pussy around his cock, he needed it badly.he aligns himself near my entrance, teasing his tip along my pussy before slowly sliding himself inside.

we both moaned at the sensation god how i missed this feeling.

he continued filling me up inch by inch soon bottoming out, giving me a moment to adjust to his thick length.he then began to thrust inside at a steady pace moans both escaping from our lips.

“mmh-god your so mmf-fucking tight!”he gasped feeling my walls clenching and gripping around his cock, this adds fuel to his fire causing him to build up his pace to a more harsher and aggressive one.

“missed mm-this fucking pussy so goddamn mmugh-much!” he mumbles in between his moans and loud groans.

“j-just like thatmmh!”

“oh your such a g-good little gmh-girl!”

“mmh!you feel so good baby uugh!”

“gonna cum all i-inside you mmhm!”

we continued encouraging each-other throughout, the sound of skin slapping soon filled the room along with our moans, the neighbors were sure to have heard by now.but we didn’t care, our pleasure and the heat of the moment just too much for us to give a single fuck.

suddenly toms moans and thrusts became more urgent and aggressive i could tell and feel his orgasm was coming in any second now same as mine.

“cmon b-baby cum all inside my-mmh pussy!”i encouraged, wanting to feel all of his seed paint my walls completely white.

“oh you w-want me to mmugh-cum all inside you?!”he groaned his breathing becoming more intense and ragged.

“o-oh baby cum with me!”i urgently demanded feeling my orgasm just right at the edge, with a primal and loud grunt toms seed quickly began spraying my insides.he continued breeding his seed inside me as i began to reach orgasm as well, my juices suddenly spilling down my thighs.

we both rode out our delicious highs before soon coming back to reality after a few final thrusts, tom slides out with a sound of a pop out of me seeing the sight of our mixed liquids spilling out of my cunt.

“you still mad at me?” he chuckled breathlessly.

“no not anymore baby.”i reply turning around swiftly to face him, his eyes now meeting mine.

“good, next time we fight i just have to fuck it outta’ you right?”

“oh shut up!”

“oh you know you love me liebe (love).”he said with a soft grin, his eyes glimmering with that post-nut glow (you know what im talking about).

“you know i do babe.”i answered leaning in closer placing a soft kiss on his lips the first one in what seemed like forever.

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #georg listing #gustav schäfer

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slowd1ving · 6 months ago

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IV. REVISED: THE CONCEPT OF FRIENDSHIP .・゜DAN HENG NSFW

One of the theories pushed forward in this universe—a common conjecture between scientists throughout the stars—is that there are disturbances in a system that is being observed, versus one that is not. This is astutely named the observer effect. And this situation is the first proper example he’s seen of that. Dan Heng feels that as soon as he takes his eyes off you, you’ll phase back to a space between these dimensions, like some specter there are only myths about. when data nerd Dan Heng finds the forbidden dictionary and masters the hidden art: synonyms male! engineer reader warnings: eventual nsfw, kind of but not really spoilers to dan heng's backstory, amab reader

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

DRINKER OF THE MOON, DEVOURER OF DREAMS MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART

There’s a certain art that comes with avoiding people, and Dan Heng has practically mastered it by now. From evading the monsters that habitually trespass on his path, to eluding the red-eyed man from Dan Feng’s convoluted past—no one can deny his experience in these twisted matters.

Unlike his predecessor, he has no qualms in ridding himself of problematic situations by simply taking his leave. And though he may be labelled a coward, he can’t find it within himself to care. Honour and dignity is important—he’ll acknowledge that gladly—but making the pragmatic decision is something he’ll continue to prioritise.

When you’re a fugitive, it’s all you have left.

So, why hasn’t he left the Express yet?

A week prior, the brief vacation finally reached its conclusion and he stepped back onto the train. It was easy at first—you were busy reading over the contract negotiated by Mr. Yang with Argo-II for their bronze. There was no time for you and him to be alone. Not even in that fateful kitchen.

His nightmares had ceased temporarily due to the lingering effects of the Argonian booze, so there was an easy excuse to save him from the regular nightly rendezvous. But at what cost?

All the rational cells in his brain are urging him to leave the Express far behind. It’s a honey-trap, they scream—he’s becoming too dependent on its security. There is also the pressing issue of your presence, but he’s intentionally avoiding thinking about it.

He should leave.

Dan Heng has overstayed his welcome.

“—oh, Dan Heng, perfect. Do you remember where the information for the Migrides Embassy legislature was, from when I asked for it a few weeks back?” Himeko’s request jolts him from his reverie, and before he’s even aware of it, his deft hands pick out the correct file from the archive shelves. “We’ll use their own courts against them to uphold our honour.”

He frowns. I’ve gotten too acclimated to living here.

“Are you feeling alright?”

The man in question tears his eyes away from the small bag that sits in the corner. It’s a sharp reminder of his obligations—moving on before he lands himself in an even bigger mess.

“Perfectly fine, Himeko,” he bites his tongue, afraid that his sour mood will taint his polite words with curtness.

She tilts her head, and her blood-like hair spills from her shoulders in a clean decapitation. The action is an ominous prelude to her next words.

“You didn’t have an argument with him, or anything?”

Sometimes, she’s also annoyingly perceptive.

“No,” he replies carefully. “We’ve just been busy with our respective lines of work.”

“...If you say so.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe him, and the long look she gives him only reinforces that notion. He can’t bring himself to meet her eyes; they seem like they’ll unearth his unease about being near you, forcibly prying any reason from him. Behind his back, his nails dig into his palms. “The tension doesn’t suit you. Talk to him sooner rather than later.”

She exits the archives then, and he’s left wondering about the meaning embedded deep within her words.

What tension? That dream was an error; like the fields of ‘Asphodel’, he would’ve never dreamt about you had he been in his right mind.

Sure, he might be avoiding you, but he’s not tense. He’s my friend. The awkward feeling will dissipate in due time, so Dan Heng’s making the tactful decision to elude you and get over himself. And Himeko’s right, he reluctantly accepts. If he wants to inoculate himself against making things even weirder than they normally are, it’s necessary to ease back into the regular back-and-forth of friendship with you.

Friendship—the word’s bittersweet on his tongue, for some strange reason.

It’s both fortunate and unfortunate that he’s unable to see you for the next few days.

After all, you personally descend to the Migrides cluster alongside Himeko—an unlikely pair, but one that absolutely makes sense—in order to finally beat the Embassy at their own game. It’s strange, though. Where he should find relief in his chest, there’s only a heavier, tighter burden to carry.

It hurts. There’s no rhyme nor reason to his erratic pulse, not any more. For those few days, there’s not a trace of your presence and he’s growing listless.

Contradictions. He’s full of them, forcibly driving a wedge between the two of you, yet he can’t deal with the overwhelming lack of you.

“You’re spacing out,” Mr. Yang cuts into his thoughts. There’s only a wooden chequerboard between them, but it feels more like a chasm that simply cannot be bridged. “And losing.”

Check. His rook is promptly sacrificed in the bloody battle, but it’s not like he’ll win. With a drawn out sigh, he tips his king flat onto the board.

“There’s something on your mind, I’d wager.” Mr. Yang stares long and hard at the easy victory he’d gained—one of Dan Heng’s most embarrassing moments in chess, but it’s not like he’s particularly engrossed in the game.

“What gave that away?”

It’s a curt response; he’s tired of the constant reminders of you. Still, he holds onto the hope that maybe—just maybe—the bespectacled man isn’t referring to you like Himeko had.

Mr. Yang simply looks at him with that flat gaze, and he loses that kindled ember of hope he nurtured.

“Forget it,” he shakes his head, and for a brief moment Dan Heng feels relief that the topic has been dropped.

“I’m sure you’ve got it under control. I’m sure you’re not running away from communication.”

Sometimes, he’s reminded that Mr. Yang is more sardonic than he lets on.

And there’s something so hilarious in the way he musters up his courage to approach you first, only for you to slide open the door to the archives first.

Thump. For a heartbeat or two, he’s spellbound by your return—yet he can’t bring himself to say anything. He ducks his head back into his book when you look over: piercing eyes glaring right into his soul. There’s a faint rustling of plastic against plastic as you slide out several files, though not a singular word from your lips.

Aeons. He can feel his face heat up as the rough mixture of soap and metal hits him. You’re here, but he can barely think, let alone formulate any sort of sentence.

When he looks up after a few minutes, you’re still there—and noticing his eyes on you, you give him a brief nod whilst you read over your selection.

It’s too much. It really is.

Dan Heng leaves the small room with paper trailing behind him and a pulse too erratic to be considered healthy—the rushed action elicits a small noise of surprise as he brushes past you. He avoids your eyes, but can’t evade the mandarins still clinging to your clothes and now his.

The bathroom door is locked, yet your presence is etched onto his skin.

This is friendship?—he scoffs. Friendship shouldn’t taste so bitter, not when his stomach is writhing uncontrollably. Not when he feels his tongue go leaden and skull grow heavy. There’s something wrong with him. It’s clawing from his insides—raw scars are left on tender flesh.

Even when he knows the coast is long clear, it takes more than a half-hour for him to slink back to the archives. Why? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know, not when the lingering remains of you still hover around the enclosed space.

If he had one word to describe this feeling welling up inside, it would be torturous.

Shameful.

He can’t sleep.

Long past the time he usually takes the first steps into the dream world—or in his case, the cacophony of nightmares—he’s still tossing and turning. It’s not the sticky heat that seems to plague him, but rather the anticipation of something finally happening that keeps him up. It’s stupid. His mind is hazy as he checks the time on his phone, yet not hazy enough to slip into that wreck of a slumber.

00:34

His fingers tap mindlessly on the screen. Nothing. No messages, no mail, not even a scammer he could mess with for once. He’d work on finally updating and organising information about the smaller planets near Penacony, but even that’s barred from him via Pom-Pom’s stern insistence that there not be more than one sleep-deprived fool on this train. He doesn’t particularly wish to know the conductor’s wrath, so he does what they say.

00:40

It’s a disgusting sort of lethargy. He can’t will his eyes to stay closed, yet he can’t bring himself to summon Cloud-Piercer either to numb his mind from his thoughts.

He grits his teeth, and he can feel each molar grind against another. Bone against bone.

Pathetic.

He checks his phone one last time, and turns it off for good. Perhaps if he wasn’t so unlucky this night, he might have seen the message that came up just a few minutes after it powered off.

01-04-XXXX

<Frankenstein & Co.> 02:59 > [robot.jpeg attached] 02:59 > Yeah this one looks like you lmao

<You> … < 03:04 Wow. You’re such a comedian. < 03:04 If you ever need a gig with the Masked Fools I’m sure they’ve got plenty of vacancies. < 03:05

03:05 > Cope bro 10:56 > Btw Welt picked up takeout from the Space Station 10:57 > Hurry up before I eat your share too

(+4 unread messages)

21-04-XXXX

Dan Heng has never been particularly fortuitous. Perhaps that’s why the message only gets delivered and not read. Perhaps that’s why he staves off the urge to check out his schedule for tomorrow in favour of rest.

When they call him unapproachable, maybe luck also thinks of him that way. Sure, Dan Feng’s had his own share of misfortuned days, but tonight might just be the unluckiest night in this incarnation's life.

When does it start?

In his memories, it might’ve been triggered by the gradual heat spreading across his limbs. His skin is molten across flesh: scorched to its very bones. Everything’s so tight—it’s no wonder that he throws his shirt into the corner next to him. He’s left breathing heavily in only sweatpants, and still they’re too cumbersome, too constricting.

What’s the cause of it all?

It might’ve been catalysed by the dizzying feeling playing on his mind that started a while ago. He’s entranced: wandering through a fog that seems to have no end, all in the hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever’s making his heart flutter all hummingbird-like.

Or maybe it’s the faint traces of you still clinging to the air.

At first, he can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. When he turns his head on his pillow, the strands of a clean soap grow stronger—so he reaches out. His fingers brush against soft fabric, and the man freezes with his fist clenched around your sweater.

It’s yours.

Somehow, your presence hasn’t yet been washed out from the threads. And for whatever damned reason, pressing it near his face is lulling him into a better stupor than that cursed drink ever did.

It’s not enough.

He buries his face in the material—by now, he’s practically drinking in all the intricacies of your scent. Inhale. Notes of orange peel, the subtle shift of soap, and the disorienting tang of diesel. Exhale. His mouth is half-open: too caught up in the throes of whatever this is to close. Unbearable. That’s what it is: a deep tension right below his navel that forces him to slowly lose his senses.

One hand is firmly clenched around the fabric pressed to his face, while the other discards the stifling blanket that’s only suffocating him further. But as he does so, he accidentally brushes against the front of his sweatpants.

His heart skips a beat, then bangs against his ribcage particularly loudly.

“Ah,” he gasps out. A chaotic pulse registers, deafening, along his ear canal. There’s a realisation that trickles honey-slow through his brain. It’s not like he’s explored this way of tiring himself out.

Aeons.

He’s never felt so perverted.

He’s never felt so conflicted.

Was it not enough that he had that dream about you back on Argo-I?

Aha must be gleefully orchestrating this twist of fate—he’s sure of it—as this defies rational thought. He should not be getting turned on to the smell of his friend that invades his senses and overwhelms him so completely.

It’s not him, he justifies weakly. It’s just the feeling of there being another person. Well, with that sort of logic, Nous is itching to accept him into the folds of the Genius Society.

There’s that strong, bubbling shame that lays heavy in his chest; however, the tightness in his lower abdomen is catalysing its destruction. It doesn’t help that he’s losing himself in the warm scent of you, and the shortness of breath that comes with covering one’s mouth and nose in thick fabric. No, it definitely helps. Shame aside, he somehow hasn’t crossed the precipice of perversion; the hand that isn’t lodged firmly against the material is merely resting atop his bare torso.

He can’t bring himself to trail his fingers lower.

It’ll help with sleeping, he rationalises once more. His head is heavy, and his self-control is slowly slipping as he keeps breathing you in.

What would he say? If you saw him—face flushed, nuzzled into your clothing; chest bared with hardened nipples from both his arousal and the stream of cool air; sweatpants tight across his hips—what would you do? Would you leave in disgust (eyes trailing briefly across the body of what can only be called a pervert)? Would you curse him out in that rough voice of yours (then never speak to him ever again)?

Would you help him out?

The very thought of it makes his pulse bloom vibrant in his head—desperate to be heard, desperate to rip through his skull. It is also a sobering notion.

He turns his body until he’s flat on his stomach with his face buried in the sweater currently draped over his pillow. The action is meant to rob his breath and calm his racing thoughts, but this really isn’t his lucky day.

“Mmh,” he whines into the fabric when the pressure of his weight exerts itself right on his crotch. It was an accident, he later swears, but he can’t bring himself to move from this position. His mind is growing numb—not in the way he wants it to—but something so carnally perverse it brings an even greater flush to his face.

Despite the futility of the gesture, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut in one last desperate bid for sleep. In his mind, he’s begging for slumber without having to resort to that. However, it’s fruitless: pointless in every sense of the word. Him attempting to relax even further just makes the warm sheets brush against his naked chest—and with his eyes closed, it feels more like hands gently cupping around the area.

He gives up.

He feels so much shame that he’s delirious on it as he grinds against the thick material of the futon. Dan Heng knows he shouldn’t be doing this—rutting himself against his bed desperately while his teeth leave small marks in your sweater—but the irrational part of his mind has long taken over.

It’s not enough. It’s nothing more than a brief morsel of pleasure—far from being able to sate his hunger and quench his thirst.

The hour is late enough that he doesn’t feel particularly cautious as he turns back to face the glimmering ceiling. There’s an unspoken rule on the Express: don’t step into the Archives once the light goes out. Therefore, he abandons the caution he usually employs in this small space and slips his cold fingers past the waistband.

He hisses as his frigid hand wraps around himself, thumb brushing just past the leaking tip in a way that is simultaneously overbearing yet simply not enough.

It’s not like he’s never done this before, but it was more of a perfunctory experiment rather than anything—and being chased by a homicidal maniac does little to get him off.

His other hand abandons the plush material of your clothing to tug sharply at his nipples—jaw clamping down on the threads to prevent the rushed moan from leaving him as he rolls them with gelid fingers. He’s sensitive: every harsh application of pressure shoots straight through his neurons and into his brain, and that’s slowly frying.

“Mmh—” he slurs around the fabric in his mouth, practically gagging on it as he paws at his tits.

The garment obstructing his vision and airways feels so empty that he can’t help but assign some sort of meaning to it. What would it be like if it were replaced by him instead?—he thinks, and the very notion causes his cock to twitch within the confines of his fingers. Your hand might be twined through his hair just like this: tugging on the strands as you manoeuvre him to fit exactly against you. Your thighs might clamp around the sides of his face like this: locking him there while he takes you down his throat.

It could be him, and the concept is shoved to some disused, forgotten corner of his mind with just a phrase.

He’s just a friend, and the words taste bitter in his mind.

As if to forget, his fist hastens its pace and he’s rocking his hips into the motion. It’s rough—nothing like how he usually would be so methodical with this. Then again, it’s clear that he’s not trying to emulate his own ways while his hand wraps around himself; but he doesn’t want to acknowledge exactly who he’s imitating.

It’s still not enough.

The garment stretches taut across his motions: too constricting for him to reach that high that he senses clouding the edges of his consciousness. Before, these sorts of actions were experimental—not meant to induce pleasure or buzz his mind, but simply a perfunctory exploration of his own body. Yet now, it’s clearly evolved into him chasing the haze as though he’s nothing more than some slut.

He hisses as he slips the waistband of his pants down with a tacky hand—the darkness enveloping him only makes the cold air sharp against his sensitive skin.

The darkness also grants him reprieve; it reminds him that he’s alone in this moment, and no one will know of his sins come morning.

An absence of light also leads to his other senses growing more profound. Neuroplasticity. The term refers to the nervous system and senses rewiring themselves due to various stimuli, such as losing a sense.

Without sight, he can clearly hear the sticky shick-shick as he fucks into his fist. He can hear every shift of skin against skin—every lewd squelch when he pumps his hand downwards. He can hear the rustling of clothing as it adheres to the pre-cum spilling from his tip. He can hear each bitten groan as it leaves his lips, muffled against you. Or at least, your sweater.

Most of all, he can hear the desperate drumming of his racing heart as it acclimates to his sudden hunger for ecstasy.

+8 unread messages

21-04-XXXX

<I’ll get you a satanic… mechanic> 00:55 > We’re both shit at communicating 00:55 > I’m coming to the archives in half an hour to put back the files, since I know you’re probably awake. Might as well talk it out. 00:56 > If you’re sleeping I won’t bother you 00:57 > We’ll just figure it out tomorrow I guess 01:14 > You really should turn on your read receipts sometime 01:14 > I can’t tell if you’ve read these or not but I’ll assume you’ve seen them 01:14 > Since you’re usually still up and around at this time 01:15 > I’m almost done with writing up the Migrides report for the Society, so I’ll be there in like five to ten minutes? I’m turning right back if you’re asleep though

His pulse damn near bursts out of his chests as he speeds the motions of his hands up: one clenched tight around himself, while the other draws crude circles into his hardened nipples. It’s not perfect, not by any means—it’s sloppy and undignified, so unlike how he is that he half-wonders what possessed him.

But the rough, hurried pace allows him to dissociate from himself briefly. It’s not he who ravishes himself, but the careless approximation of you pressing hard against his weeping cock: jerking it this way and that as tears leak down his flushed cheeks.

As he imagines you knelt between his legs, the debauchment—the shame—paints his cheeks a garish red. There’s no way to take it back; he’s already crossed a line he shouldn’t have, and he can’t stop himself from doing so. Every time he forces the image into the forgotten recesses of his mind, you’re there again: spreading his legs while you make a mess between them.

He can’t stop. He can’t stop. You’re not allowed to stop, not when he’s almost trespassing the brink of pleasure. Hurriedly, he twists his hand—your hand—just so and his stomach heaves as though on a particularly rough starskiff.

His skin feels feverish—on the very brink of delirium and madness—but there’s still something missing.

More, his body begs. He’s so empty, and the feeling is so foreign he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Or, more accurately, he knows full well what to do, which is precisely why he’s so hesitant to even formulate the thoughts and go through the motions.

Slowly, his fingers trail down the vertical dip in his stomach, past the valley of his waist, and nestle neatly between his spread legs.

There are two crucial things that he’s unawares of, much to his detriment. One, that the time is precisely nineteen minutes past the system hour—the sand in the hourglass paves the path to your arrival. Two, the door to the archives isn’t nearly as soundproof as he thinks. Of course, he’s experienced this himself—hearing the bass thrum through the panels of your own door—but it’s not occurring to him that this applies to his own as well.

Instinctively, he muffles his whines and moans, just in case. But honestly, it’s hard to focus on cutting off his noises when he’s roughly jerking his palm while fucking himself on his fingers.

It’s hard to focus on anything, except the faint trail of metal still lingering in the air. Human-loved liquor rarely weaves those blessed by Long into its viscous spell, yet somehow the merest whisper of your presence forces upon him unmatched drunkenness.

And you’ll never know the effect you have on him. Not when he’s so painfully hard, not when he’s stuffing himself with his fingers and pretending it’s you. Sweat laves him tonight, and he is baptised in the filth of his own lust.

“So close,” he slurs in his delirium. At least in the cover of the endless night, when the only light comes from the glow of data, his body is as honest as his thoughts.

Which is to say, not very honest at all.

There’s something missing—something so slight, yet profound enough to add a counterweight to his tipping into ecstasy. He can’t move past the precipice; blankness simply eludes him. Though, whenever he thinks of you, that path to hedonistic pleasure is that much clearer.

The steady hum of data calibrating itself to Astral Express standards should be the primary sound washing over this enclosed space, but the low whir is delegated to the sidelines. He’s chanting your name in broken, garbled syllables; if it were any louder, there wouldn’t be any relative machine humming to speak of in the first place.

In fact, the same word practically drowns out any other awareness he has of the environment. Maybe if he hadn’t been mindlessly spilling your name from his lips, he might’ve been just the tiniest bit luckier.

Alas, Dan Heng’s soul is far less fortunate than one can imagine.

This set of banal coincidences—a lack of soundproofing, his weakening senses, and his decision to turn his phone off for the night, him avoiding you—all culminate into his impending doom.

In the first heartbeat following this revelation from fate, your footsteps slowly make their way from your room: feet sinking into plush carpet with a languorous sort of amble that doesn’t belie the neurotic twitch of your hands as you walk towards the person who’s avoided you successfully for however many days. In any other set of circumstances, he would’ve picked up on the tiniest of disturbances outside and nearby his door: down to the very buckles of your outfit clinking together, down to the creak in your boots as you shifted impatiently.

In the second heartbeat, you pause outside the door—hand poised to knock in an awfully ironic mirror of him just a few months ago.

How naive. If he saw this picture right now, he would’ve told himself to never board this Express.

You pause outside the door, and it’s reached a point where the sounds escaping his parted lips are lulled. Or, more accurately, they escape with each exhale—natural as crying, to the point where one might think he’s having a particularly vivid nightmare. There’s nothing to suggest what’s actually going on.

This, therefore, is the last moment he has to not screw this up any further.

But—

There is a very strong ‘but’.

—Dan Heng has already established his inaptitude for fortune.

Had he seen you right now, he would’ve witnessed the turn in your shoulders as you accept the small noises as him just having a nightmare. Plausible explanation. There’s enough circumstantial evidence and midnight encounters to immediately come to that conclusion, then leave him to inevitably wake up on his own.

However—however—you simply don’t turn away fast enough. Or, Dan Heng has the worst timing to ever exist. Maybe it’s the first reason for this calamity, maybe it’s both, but looking back on it, it was definitely the latter explanation.

He’s so close.

As he’s hastily sliding his hand up and down his weeping cock, while his fingers probe at unfamiliarity, your name slips from his mouth once more. These fateful sound waves ripple and poke past the wooden door, far enough to reach your ears and freeze your steps.

“Dan Heng?”

He must’ve hallucinated it. But that’s your voice, so hushed and tender that his flesh throbs beneath his fingers.

Shivers descend on his body—so profound his vision goes white for a brief moment—and thick ropes of cum spurt out onto his stomach. He’s so sensitive, but he needs so much more: rocking back onto his fingers while his slick walls clamp down onto them.

“Ah,” he whines out, in tandem with the door opening.

Finally.

That grabs his attention, and his hips stutter to a grinding halt as his head turns to the side. Glossy eyes lined with unshed tears stare at the mirage to his right—it’s you, illuminated by the low glow of the data banks and the dim light in the background.

No.

You’re real.

His breath hitches. Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s frozen; except in this scenario, it’s much worse than a quick hit-and-run. Dan Heng’s a mess right now. There’s globs of white pearled across his chest and stomach, there’s the fact that one hand is still cupping his hard dick, there’s still the image of the fingers of the other hand nestled deep between his legs. There’s the drool leaking from his parted lips; there’s his fucked-out, hazed expression complete with burning cheeks; and perhaps the most incriminating factor, there’s your sweatshirt still draped across his pillow.

Aeons. No amount of explanations will ever save him. It’s why he can’t bring himself to scramble to piece together his shredded dignity.

“Uh,” you begin intelligently. There’s some sadistic (wholly unconcerned with his own situation) part of him that notes that this is the first instance he’s seen of you being struck dumb like this.

It’s dim enough that you need a moment to process it, but he watches your eyes adjust. You take in his half-naked state, exactly where his hands are still positioned, and finally, that damned sweatshirt.

He swallows, but no words escape his mouth. And frighteningly enough, he can feel himself twitch against his cold palm.

“I really wasn’t expecting this when I came to confront you about avoiding me,” you mutter, firmly looking elsewhere as he pulls the sheets so they cover his legs and sits upright. “Did I cause some crisis within you? Is your attraction to me the reason you’ve been so distant?”

“I’m not…” Distant? Avoidant? Attracted to you?

“I’m not interested in my friend like that,” he replies thickly. “I just needed to sort myself—ah—out before I could continue that relationship.”

If this were anyone else, this conversation would’ve ended a few minutes ago. If he were any closer to you, he would’ve left this area as soon as possible. Maybe it’s because you’re so distant that it’s possible to keep talking like this, like he isn’t still getting off on your words and the texture of his sheets on his painfully hard dick.

There’s the evidence of his shame on his cheeks—such a dark red he feels lightheaded.

“Ah, right,” you nod in understanding. “Because I didn’t hear my name being called out, and that’s definitely not my jumper lying there. You’re not interested.”

“Exactly,” he lies. He can’t gauge what exactly you’re probing him for, but he knows that you’re offering a chance out of this mess.

This was a mistake. He screwed up—letting his irrational mind entrance him with you. No doubt, this was all due to the strange dream he had back on Argo-I that catalysed this disaster. He’s not interested in you—his friend.

“Dan Heng,” you breathe. “You’ve been evasive ever since we returned from the Argo.”

He stiffens, watching cautiously as you lean against the doorframe.

“I’ll leave after you truthfully answer one question of mine.” Your cadence is casual enough that he can’t hear judgement nor disgust within. Just kick me out, he wants to say. If he could, he’d want to undergo rebirth this instant so he’d forget all about this.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” he blurts out.

“Do you want me to yell at you?” you counter. “It’s natural behaviour for people, is it not, to release tension this way?”

And perhaps, it is your indifference that is the most galling facet of this situation.

“What do you want to know?” he instead asks, rather coldly. Do anything other than look at me like that! But here you are, picking at your nails as if he’s not just bared his vulnerable body in your presence.

It’s weird, so weird, and if the Masked Fools ever picked apart his memory and witnessed this scene… Well, he doesn’t even want to think about the numerous ways they’d publish it. This is perhaps the most humiliating and bizarre experience he’s ever had; worst of all, it appears completely one-sided.

“Dan Heng.” You shake your head in disappointment. Slight mockery coats your tongue, and he flinches with the sudden heat in his abdomen. To think, you’ve never called his name in this realm before today—but the shame he’s experiencing has caused the sudden influx in your vocabulary. It’s hilariously, painfully ironic. “I was wondering why it was the Argo cluster in particular that triggered this.”

An ominous prelude to your question.

“You lied to me on the last day, didn’t you?”

The dream. The damned dream. You know. Somehow, you’re aware of what exactly it was that he’d dreamed.

He holds his breath.

“But I won’t be as cruel as to ask that just yet.” So what will you ask in its stead?

You shift until you’re at your full height, and he’s hyper aware of the piercing—knowing—glint in your eyes as you assess him. “Out of all your days at that bar, did you happen to spot the blinding red poster behind the counter?”

Now that you mention it, he does faintly recall the edge of crimson in the deep recesses of his memory. Mutely, he nods (after all, he doesn’t trust himself to not stick the final nail in his own coffin).

“Perfect,” you drawl sarcastically. “Then, can you tell me what was written on that poster?”

No. He finds that he can’t. And what is the reason for that? He doesn’t know.

(He does know. For the same reason his blood chases the heaving gulps of oxygen, his gaze flitted only to you for that brief week—but that will go unacknowledged by him.)

“Archivist—” and it’s the first time you’ve used his title so callously, so bluntly. “—for someone whose job it is to collect information, you sure didn’t do a good job at knowing that overconsumption of anything is bad for your health.”

His fingers twitch. Shameful. How utterly shameful it is—how abhorrent—that even as your words cut through skin and flesh and reach tender marrow, his heart rate quickens with adrenaline.

“Do remind me,” he mutters. Perhaps if he were a little wiser, he would’ve searched up the drink as soon as he left the Argo, ignoring the prickles of chagrin that pierced him as he thought about it.

“Overconsumption of this particular drink can lead to migraines and hallucinations.” Yes, he faintly recalls the sound of those words as the bartender warned him about all those neatly lined coupe glasses. Just like a fool, he didn’t pay much heed to the warnings he heard as though it were mere alcohol. Easily handled, easily managed. Except it wasn’t.

“That’s not all, is it?” For the first time, he can see your slight hesitation as you mull over the final consequence.

“No. There’s also the ability to project into dreams that aren’t wholly your own.”

Oh. Oh. His mind reels.

You were there, and you saw all of it.

“You—” he cuts himself off as he notices you standing only a foot or so away, peering down at him as you reach for your sweater. Your scent invades his senses—so much more potent than the insignificant material bearing only traces of you.

“I’ll be taking my leave.” You’re still leaning over him. The folds of your clothes brush just right past his naked torso, and he flinches back as though he’s been scalded by the proximity. “Thanks for confirming what I needed to know, friend.”

It happens as you’re beginning to move back. Unprompted, his hand reaches out to grab your wrist and you drop the sweater you were holding.

Surprised, you stare at him with your lips parted. The distance is insignificant; in fact, he can feel the warm gusts of your breathing right on his collarbones.

“So you do want me,” you comment smartly, and he averts his eyes to look anywhere but your laughing gaze.

“I still don’t,” he mutters, but his voice quivers far too much to hold only truths. He’s my friend, and nothing else.

“Then, should I go? Leave you to deal with this alone?” The words brush honey-sweet against raw skin—they brutally remind him of your position. You’re kneeling slightly on the futon, back bent a crude seventy degrees as you lean over his legs to grab your sweater once more. A rough palm is firmly planted by his side (he’s terribly conscious of the warmth it radiates) while the other is locked in his own grasp.

“Are you offering?” he challenges: pure irreverence dulls his cadence.

“If you ask nicely, I might help out my dear friend.” A crescent smile is present on your face; innocuous enough, but he can sense the sharpness just waiting to cut him. It was a mistake. Getting involved with the Express was a horrible mistake. Every time he inhales, he can smell those mandarins and the soapy scent of you—the metal, the caffeinated drinks, you. Even your terrible, doom-ridden smile has long turned sweet; the only danger it brings is the heated surge straight through his stomach.

He’s willing to help.

“And if I don’t ask nicely?” It’s not like him to be this brash, but Aeons know just how insane he’s feeling tonight.

“Then I bid you good luck in whatever you were doing before,” you whisper, moving to disentangle your fist from his shaking fingers.

And he admitted I’m just a friend too.

Selfishly, he refuses to let your arm go.

“Dan Heng?”

“If it’s just for tonight…” he exhales. After tonight, the regular back-and-forth would be reestablished, right? His bottom lip wobbles, and he catches your eyes flickering to the small motion.

“You act like you’re doing me a favour,” you sneer. Is it normal for his pulse to accelerate as you look at him with such disdain? Is it normal for his heart to drop when you wrench yourself free of his grasp and stand to head to the door?

“Where are you going?” He hates how it sounds like he’s whining like some damn mutt, hates how hard he feels at the slightest hint of your displeasure, hates you for making him feel like this.

“Locking the door,” you remark. “I’m not like you—so desperate that anyone can just walk in and see you with your legs spread.”

“Mmh,” he sighs out at each blunt syllable that leaves your cruel lips. He’s too far gone to feel shame about it; more accurately, you made him this way. Nothing’s in his head except you—his mind’s whirling as you kneel back down at his side, heart pounding desperately out of his chest.

His eyes squeeze shut as you ghost closer; fear poisons his vessels as he moves back slightly.

“No kissing,” he insists, since that will feel far too much like that dream. Something so intimate doesn’t belong here—his only goal is to break away from this night and resume his friendship as cleanly as possible.

“Okay.” He can picture your raised brows as you wonder exactly what about a kiss is more amorous than the very act of intercourse. “Just the lips, or everywhere?”

Against his will, his face flushes a far deeper red than it had previously. Crimson is fading into your vision—as visible as his glossy, tear-lined eyes—and he knows you see it clearly. How can you not? After all, he can feel the heavy pressure of your gaze as you look directly at his face. Not his body, nor his clenched fists, but right at his face. Strangely, that feels far more intimate than anything else.

“Just the lips,” he stammers.

Aeons willing, his heart won’t stop anytime soon. While it feels like his very cells will collapse in on themselves with how hard his pulse thuds, he hopes they’ll continue enduring just a little bit longer.

“Okay,” you breathe once more—except this time, he doesn’t hear it so much as feel it brush gently over his collarbone. Blooming like flowers, your mouth leaves a meadow behind on his clavicle; he can’t help but throw his head up to be closer to you, to allow you to mark him up more.

Every place you suck a bruise into burns white-hot. He knows he should pragmatically stop you from claiming the base of his throat and above (if only to preserve his dignity when he faces the rest of the Express come morning) but he can’t bring himself to hide this: for one night, he lay in your arms.

He knows that he should’ve limited you from placing your warm mouth anywhere. What will he do tomorrow? When he sees the blossoming violets seeping into his dermis in the morning, how will he look you in the eyes cordially while knowing it’s your fault? While he waits for his sore body to recover, how exactly will he maintain friendship?

“Don’t worry your pretty head so much,” you whisper, and oh, you must’ve seen the furrow in his brows while getting some air and admiring your handiwork in the dim light of data shelves. A palm splayed flat on his bare chest—warm, just like the man it’s attached to—pushes him firmly onto his futon once more, until his back hits his pillow and his elbows prop himself up. It’s a testament to your words: forget the turbulent thoughts, and just think about this moment.

Pretty, he thinks drunkenly. He thinks I’m pretty. And though it’s, quite frankly, stupid to be flustered over that when there are plenty of better reasons to be flustered right now, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut even tighter at the word.

Your mouth moves lower, teeth grazing the grooves of his abdomen—and his back arches into the sensation of soft lips.

“Aeons— ah—” he moans as you lave your tongue across where the still-sticky rivulets of cum remain. To make matters worse, the rough pad of your thumb rubs callous circles against his nipple: sensitive from his earlier toying. But oh, it feels so much better than when he’d given them his amateur attention. He can’t help but shudder into the touch: so robotically precise he wonders whether you view people like your machines too. Does he do this with others as well?

The question creates a sickening, furious heat in his gut. One of his hands lifts and grips your shoulder, digging through the loose shirt you wear and into the firm skin beneath.

He finally opens his eyes to look down at you—your brows slightly raised as you continue cleaning up the mess he made from the side, tongue darting out to catch every last drop—and his dick stiffens painfully from where it’s still covered.

Salty, he thinks he hears you mutter to yourself. Maybe that’s the last straw, or maybe it’s you washing your tongue over your lips as if not to miss anything. Neither of those things matter—he needs you to expedite whatever you were going to do, now.

“Hurry– hurry up,” he gasps as your other hand brushes his hip bone, dangerously close to where the sheet covers.

“So impolite,” you mock. Suddenly, that same hand wrenches the sheet down, and he lets out a groan as his naked flesh is bared to the cold air once more—he sees you don’t miss his reaction. “Not even a please.”

You’re the one who’s impolite, he thinks—ogling at him while you’re still fully clothed.

“Sure have a lot of demands for someone who got caught calling out my name,” you reply, and it’s then he realises that maybe he didn’t think that at all. Still, with a fluid motion, you discard your shirt to the side and he’s left gazing at the expanse of your skin once more. Just like in that dream.

“Now who’s ogling?” you continue quietly, but he’s much too fixated on seeing the bare flesh that unconsciously, his hand reaches back up to trace the plains of your shoulder. Then, his focus shifts as you reposition yourself so you’re practically straddling his legs, essentially trapping him under you.

His tongue flickers out to wet his lips.

Thankfully—thankfully—that’s not the thing you notice as your eyes finally trail down.

“Mmh—” he whines as your calloused hand grasps his stiff cock. You’re gentler than he thought you’d be—though it’s precisely that sort of friction he’d been looking for in the first place. It’s almost cautious; you swipe your thumb across his leaking slit experimentally, and he can hear his own breathing become more rapid and shallow.

“So pretty,” you murmur. “Just like the rest of you.”

He blinks, and suddenly he’s looking down to where your gaze lies: where your hand almost dwarfs his flesh, where his mushroom tip glistens from his earlier release, and where you’re slowly pumping it from shaft to base.

Yes, he thinks, it is a pretty sight—but only because you’re in it too.

He freezes.

I can’t think that way.

Dan Heng gasps as you remove your hand from him, shamelessly licking up the remaining liquid from your hand. The very sight causes his mind to go blank: body burning, stomach churning.

“Why’d you stop—” he slurs his words, lids blinking slowly despite the scalding flush of adrenaline spreading through his limbs. “—not fair.”

Gently, you grab the hand that rests on your shoulder, pressing a small kiss to it while he hears the sound of a zipper. The sweet gesture forces his eyes open completely—if you moved any closer, you’d be able to hear his maddened heartbeat.

“I’m not stopping,” you assure him. Warm fingers easily thread through his, and he gasps as your dick presses against his. His teary pupils can’t bear to look down—feel how you’re rubbing the pieces of flesh together in a dizzying rhythm.

Just like clockwork, he presses his freehand to the back of yours: stuck together in perpetual motion. He can hear the soft shick-shick as you move your palm up and down; feel the heat of your skin as it radiates into his own cold hands; see the faint smile as you stare at him beneath you.

It feels so good—and normally, he’d never give in to the facetious pleasure that waits to slit his throat while he’s in its tender embrace.

Pressing his lips together, he removes his hands from yours and loops them around your neck. If he feels closely, he can sense the steady race of your pulse—something that belies the surprise you hide in your languid expression. Like this, your body is forced closer to his (or more precisely, his body is forced closer to yours).

You sigh out as his nails dig into your fragile human flesh; he’d think you were in pain had it not been for the small exhales you’d let out as you sped up your pace. When you hiss out—breathing shallow from him, from the man cursed to be Dan Heng—he can’t help but throb in your hold.

He’s had that effect on you. Not anyone else, not those people pressed against you in the club who wanted your fragments, but him.

“So infuriating,” you grind out with gritted teeth. He buries his face in the valley between neck and shoulder, breathing in the soapy scent from the juncture as your hands become harsher. Rougher.

Dan Heng occupies his loud mouth by suckling right onto your neck—stealing his breath away while the pleasure builds up in the pit of his stomach.

You lean back slightly, and suddenly the hand that was propping your weight up firmly grabs the side of his waist—and he thinks he can see the stars within the confines of these four walls. You notice—of course you do—the ragged panting coming from him, and he can see the grin forming on your face in his mind.

How shameful.

He stares back with crescent eyes and dark red cheeks lining them.

“Pervert.” Two syllables. Two syllables, accompanied by a harsh squeeze of his side, before he comes undone. Arching into you with a choked cry, more strings of cum spurt from his tip: coating his stomach and yours with an unmistakable affirmation of your words. No, word (singular), because for whatever Aeon-forsaken reason, his body chose in particular to respond to your insult.

Spit connects his mouth to your skin—face still in your shoulder as if to hide from you. His chest rises and falls rapidly: tits pressed against your own chest as he whines with the overstimulation.

It’s no good. Your hands keep moving, and he’s still so painfully hard he can barely breathe.

“‘M– I’m not,” he garbles, even as you poke at the sticky liquid dripping from his sides.

“Are too,” you murmur, but the teasing doesn’t comfort him the way he thought it would. No, tomorrow when your regular back-and-forth is reestablished, he’ll only think of this night—how you feel on him, how well you touch his body.

“Don’t stop,” he whimpers as you pause the movements that keep driving him to many brinks.

“I’m not.” He’s putty under your hands as you twist his body with such deftness that he wonders where you get it from. Lugging around heavy machines certainly does leave you with some muscle there—he doesn’t realise the position he’s in until he feels your torso move against his plush ass.

His chest presses down against the futon, face barely escaping the same fate as he turns it to the side to avoid suffocation. If he had to describe this situation, it would be humiliating—arched straight into the air with you kneading the soft expanse of flesh like it were fucking bread.

It finally sets in.

He’s about to get fucked by his closest friend in this cycle—and he hates how stiff the thought makes him.

But surprisingly—since you’re so damn full of surprises—you instead part the sensitive flesh of his thighs and instead fill the gap there. He’s so empty, but in this position, your tip catches against his every time you drill into the space; that (begrudgingly) makes up for it. Somewhat.

“Stop delaying it,” he groans as he feels more of his cum dribble down onto his sheets. What more do you want from him?

“Dan Heng,” you instead hover over him, grasping his waist like handlebars. He hates this so much—how easily you manoeuvre him, how good the pain of your nails feels against his touch-deprived skin.

Most of all, he hates how depraved he feels—using his closest friend for this.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty your thighs are?” you groan above him, and he swears he can feel the vibrations right against his cock. “Or how gorgeous your waist is?”

It should be insulting. He’s a guard and archivist, not some object to ogle at under your heated gaze. Yet, contrary to his expectations, he can only suppress the violent urge to just cum on the spot from those words. You like his body.

Not as a warrior, not as a weapon for the protection of the Luofu, but simply because he’s beautiful in your eyes.

“No,” he replies through a breathy moan, clutching desperately at the shirt you discarded that’s lying right next to his face. You notice, of course. Nothing really escapes your sharp eyes, not even when it’s dark and he’s trying to hide. “I can’t say anyone has.”

“You’re so cute.” And when you say those three words, you press a quick kiss to the nape of his neck while one of your hands lazily jerks him off.

However, that’s not what pushes him to the brink. It’s when you finish—hot streams dripping down his inner thighs as you let out a muffled groan right next to his ear. That’s when he shivers. That’s when his heart pulses extra loudly for one beat and his breath hitches. That’s when his body tightens and he spills once more onto his sheets.

“Ah,” he gasps as he continues thrusting weakly into your hand. Your body’s heavy as you lean your forehead into his neck: warm breath tickling his nape and making his whole body shudder from the sensation.

“Are— are you finally going to–” he’s cut off as you pull away from his thighs; scalding residue is left between them, and every time he shifts it squelches.

“Man, your biology really is different.” He can feel you smile against his skin as you don’t let go of him. He’s practically caged in by your body at this point—but strangely, he doesn’t seem to mind. “Already eager to go?”

“Don’t avoid the question,” he grips the material of your shirt so tightly he can feel his nails dig into his palm. “Actually, don’t answer my question with a question of your own.”

“Still so vocal,” you shake your head slightly. Much too casually, you tighten your grip around him in a ring and he has to clamp his jaw shut so as to not let out any more wanton noises. He can’t give you the satisfaction of proving yourself right.

“You’re just too slow.” He doesn’t know why he’s provoking you.

“You’re just too impatient,” you hiss.

It’s worth it. It’s worth it when you nudge at his hole with your tip; worth it when you stretch him out just around the shaft.

“Mmph— more,” he moans shamelessly at the burn. When he attempts to sink down further, your hands grip his waist in such a way that prevents him from moving an inch. It hurts, more than his fingers did—but he can’t help wanting to just take it.

“You sure?”

In one fell swoop, you bury yourself to the hilt in his tight hole—and he practically screams at the sudden intrusion. His body tightens almost immediately, yet the relief never comes when he feels your fingers tightly wrap around him to prevent release.

Tears stream down his flushed cheeks, and he can clearly see the sadistic smile on your face as his glossy eyes meet yours—ruining his climax while there’s not a single speck of remorse in your ruthless gaze.

“Fuck you–” he grits out. Stemming his tears is a futile attempt.

“That’s your job,” you grin. Pulling out just so your tip remains, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out what you’re going to next. “Remember, Dan Heng, patience is a virtue.”

He’s still reeling from the ruined orgasm when you slam into him again. The man swears he can feel you in his very throat as his chest tightens from the impact—and the broken moans he’s been suppressing come out once more at full volume.

You don’t give him any time to adjust; rather, you set a pace so thorough that the gummy spot inside of him is hit every time. Still, there’s no mercy for him—your hand prevents his release on each occasion he gets close to it.

He can feel your own body tense up. Maybe, as a gesture of goodwill, that’s when you finally let go of him and take hold of his waist once more. On his skin, your hand is tacky from a mixture of both you and him.

Using both hands, you pull him into you just as your pelvis collides with his own flesh; with each plap of sticky skin against skin, he lets out a cut-off mewl that simply fades into the next. Over and over.

This is a special form of madness.

“Please, please—” he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, only that it’s the only thing he can say at this moment.

It seems this has some effect on you—he can feel your abdomen stiffen as you grit out a question. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” he breathes. Perhaps that’s your last straw. Perhaps his voice like this is too much for you; not even a minute later, he can feel searing rivulets seep deep into him—so warm and slippery.

“Hng–” he moans out. The feeling’s too much. With a desperate sob, he’s finally allowed to cum too: an awful, mind-numbing sensation that wracks his whole body with ruined pleasure. His chest heaves up and down—milking you for all you’re worth as he continues to ride it out. If you look closely, you’d see his legs practically giving out as you loosen your grip on his waist ever-so-slightly.

Your body looms over his trembling one, pressing kiss after kiss to his spine as he cries it out.

Discordant breaths slowly dissipate into calmer ones—your comforting weight grounds him firmly to the present.

When… did I start thinking that way?

As he’s soothed into stupor, he notices how your scorching palms slip from his sides and hold down his clenched fists—twining finger against finger in such a tender gesture he can feel his very shoulders deepen into carmine.

You’re half-hard inside him, but he still needs so much more. When his sniffles die down, he notices you staring unabashedly at him: a mess, he’s sure, but he sees how enraptured you are. That, for some reason, makes the comment die down in his throat and replaces it with a poignant question.

What do you think about me?

(But that’s not a question you should be asking your close friend, not when he’s firmly lodged within you with his chest pressed against your back.)

You rub circles against the slight veins that line the backs of his hands—rough shapes that somehow retain the essence of your mechanical certainty. It’s so fucking intimate he can’t help but feel his whole face burn: to the bitter point where he’s pressing it right against his tear-stained, sweat-stained pillow.

“Want more,” he slurs, hissing sharply as you lean back far enough on your heels that you manage to seat him firmly in your lap. It’s so much deeper that he has to stifle his whines while you gaze at him with that annoyingly perceptive look.

He’s reminded of your strength when you tug at his legs and manoeuvre him so he’s facing you, on your lap, while still stuffed full of you and his cum. There’s fat globs of white dripping from him in a frothy ring, but you clearly don’t care about any of that as you lean back on your palms impassively.

“Your turn,” you prompt.

And oh, as he feels himself get split apart at this angle, it’s a wonder he doesn’t fall apart at that instant. It hurts, relying on his legs to rise and fall on your dick—over and over—but by the Aeons he can’t stop his tears from being shed and his mouth from letting out some of his most embarrassing sounds.

He’s so dizzy he almost collapses—but his hands digging into your trapezius muscles provides a tentative support to his shaky frame.

“Jerk,” he gasps out as you palm him callously, meeting each bounce of his hips with your pelvis thrusting upwards. He can’t stop the whines that leave his spit-shined lips; every sticky skin-on-skin sound is accompanied by such.

He can’t go as fast as he wants, nor can he go as high as he wants, but that allows him to observe the irritated glint in your eyes as you duck your head.

“What are you— ah—” he whimpers as your teeth graze his puffy nipple; his back curves into an arch unconsciously to press his tits more to your face, and he can’t help but feel embarrassed at how easily his body responds to your motions.

As your tongue laves wet circles round the areola, while your hand roughly strokes him and you fill him up so, so good, he clutches at your body for dear life when he feels that familiar feeling building up in his stomach.

“So close,” he bites out, shuddering in your grasp as you bite lightly around the nipple. Combined with the twisting motion of your hands, and the irresistible smell of sweat and metal bleeding from your skin, it’s no surprise that he cums in glistening ropes: painting your skin once more.

More tears leak from his eyes as you don’t slow down. Well, you do, but only to use the tight grip he still has on your shoulders to push him down so he’s under you once more. You resume just as quickly; by this point, it’s clear you’re chasing your own release.

Beautiful, he thinks through hazy eyes.

He glances to the side briefly, spotting the bag he vowed he’d carry out of here in time—then back at you.

There’ll be more passengers. More people, vying for your attention like this. Will you treat them like this? Like friends, as he’s so aptly put it?

He pulls himself closer to you, watching as your eyes widen in brief surprise at the sudden proximity.

“What’s wrong?” you murmur. “Want me to–”

You’re so considerate it makes him sick. Is this how you view friendship too?

Where is the boundary?

Gradually, you bring your hips to a slow roll as he continues staring directly at you. He almost whines at the loss of motion, but the dilated look in your pupils is enough to keep him sated.

Need him. He squeezes tight around you; as soon as your eyelids flutter shut, he kisses you on the lips chastely—the brief contact of your lips against his is enough to almost make his eyes roll back in delight.

Your eyes practically flinch: blown open in abject surprise as you stare at his bashful, flushed expression. He definitely can’t leave, but Aeons this attention makes him want to retreat back into himself.

“Dan Heng,” you whisper. “What happened to your rule?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “Not anymore.”

He’s not expecting you to immediately cup his face with a shaky hand, kissing him feverishly while you continue grinding against him languidly. The salt on your lips—the taste of himself—is enough to have him cum against you one last time in weak, watery spurts.

He moans into your mouth: hands clutching at you for dear life while you shudder with your own climax. Never has he felt so spent; not even after hours-long battles. Sure, he’s felt cold detachment from the blood on his palms, but he’s burning at the moment. A veritable comet streaking right across the galaxies, made of all the cold ice he can imagine—but lit up as white-hot as a star.

If he had to explain the feeling of prodding his tongue into your warm, wet mouth, it would most likely be the best sensation he’s ever experienced. He can’t stop: too drunk on your taste to think about anything else save you.

When you have your best friend’s dick in you, it’s pretty hard to think of him as just a friend.

“Not going anywhere,” he mumbles into the scalding skin of your neck. “I’ll stay right by your side.”

“What—changed your mind about us just being buddies?” you query mockingly, running your fingers into the valleys above his hips. This weight; it feels safe being caged in your arms like this, as though he’ll sleep without nightmares every night he’s entrapped like this. “Felt too good for a friends with benefits situation?”

“Shut up,” he huffs, weakly poking at your arm. “Don’t want you treating your other friends like this.”

He can feel you stifle your laugh.

Perhaps, if he really looks at it, the standard TUL dialect definition of friendship applies to this situation. Mutual trust and affection.

“Okay, okay,” you accede. There’s a fluttering sensation in his chest that accompanies his reddened cheeks, and it’s not due to the strenuous activities from a moment prior. “You’re mine, then.”

The clumsy framing somewhat fit at the beginning, but no longer.

And if he really looks at it, he should reread the whole dictionary to make sure he doesn’t misunderstand any more of these concepts.

　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 ☾

#dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader #reader #res ･ﾟ writing

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pathetickuroo · 3 months ago

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fukutora hcs bc theyre funny

- fukunaga shohei #1 lover of badddd bad bad bad movies. terrible films. not good. we're talking sharknado snakes on a plane willys wonderland velocipastor that one thanksgiving slasher film that i cant remember the name of rn (dont think abt the mechanics of it being a thanksgiving movie too hard). generally not a movie enjoyer i think but most certainly clocking in for shit that is Not Good

- tora is baffled every time but definitely not opposed to it (this guy loves cuddling on the couch i think he hits the fake yawn arm around shoulders maneuver like. regularlyyyy and fukunaga doesnt even pretend to think its silly anymore)

- "shohei this movie doesnt even make any sense" "🤷"

- tora the hugger from behind of All Time he is finding any possible excuse. "u look cold" or "makin up for lost time" or "i have practice in an hour plsss plssssss just let me have this PLSSSSSSS" (he uses that one in particular a lot) (fukunaga wouldnt have said no in the first place) (he thinks its cute so he doesnt say anything abt it)

- repressed-as-hell hs tora did not quiteee know what to do w whatever tf he had goin on so he didnt get the guts (ha) to say anything until a couple years after graduation (which he then said over text bc yokohama -> tokyo = long distance)

- fukunaga conveys thoughts in as few words as possible (which is fucking awesome btw if fukunaga has no fans it means ive died) BUT in order to preserve the meaning it sometimes takes a second to respond

- tora did Not have a good time attempting to navigate this when he was trying to confess

- bro immediately started freaking out to yaku "DUDE WHY DID I DO THAT THAT WAS SO STUPID" "omfg its fukunaga give him a second. impatient ass" "I THINK IM DYING" "jfc"

- meanwhile in tokyo fukunaga was staring at "i rly like u dude" trying to figure out if tora meant like (homie) or like (w/gay intent)

- fukunaga only ever calls tora by his full government given name when he is Displeased. tora used the pan he needed for dinner tn so now he has to wash it? taketora. tora rearranges his living room w no warning? taketora. doesnt even say it in a mean/angry tone or anything j matter of fact as all hell. honestly i think if fukunaga was ever genuinely angry abt smth hell would probably freeze over

- tora does get extremely pouty abt it tho. "shoheiii what did i do :(" "the pan" ".......OH FUC—"

- when tora first moved to yokohama he got a cat bc of course he did he graduated from nekoma. tf else was he supposed to do, get a dog? (maybe in the future)

- very very fluffy very cute very sweet tuxedo girl. her name is "destroyer" (yes really) he calls her badass on the reg and she is sooo cuddly w him. fukunaga finds all of this extremely funny

- in fact when fukunaga starts visiting suddenly destroyer doesnt gaf abt tora anymore. worse than pain of death in his opinion it is So Not Fair. first thing fukunaga does after he meets the cat is send a pic to the old nekoma gc "top 10 cats that like me more than they like their owners" tora throws a pillow at him "i RAISED her from a BABY" "did u rly" ".....NO BUT IT AINT RIGHT"

- after theyve been together a few months toras thinkin abt how fukunaga used to Never Talk Ever and he makes a joke "ha i guess i learned how to speak BODY language am i right. right shohei. thats funny right"

- fukunaga calls him taketora for a week. tora retires that joke permanently and they never speak of it again

- tora morning person fukunaga not-exactly-a-night-owl-but-doesnt-love-being-awake-at-5:30 person. one time fukunagas in yokohama for the weekend he wakes up at 6 annoyed as hell (tora got up at 5 and left for a run) bc wtf his pillow literally got up and walked away. falls back asleep wakes up again at 10 tora made not only coffee but pancakes too AND heated them up for him hes immediately like ok nvm this is fine actually no complaints (<- still gets annoyed when his human teddy bear ditches him)

- TORA BABE SAYER. hey babe thanks babe i missed u babe. but it took him foreverrrrrr (forever) to get comfortable actually saying it instead of thinkin inside so there was also (and still is) a lot of dude (romantic) bro (romantic) man (romantic).

- fukunaga doesnt like saying pet names or anything (but to be fair does he like saying ANYTHING most of the time) but does not mind being called them at all (that's a lie he thinks it's awesome and so so so sweet but when tora asks if it's okay he says he doesn't mind)

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#nekoma #yamamoto taketora #fukunaga shouhei #fukunaga shohei #fukutora #torafuku #not sure what their tag is. hm #hq #hq!!#a bonkutoe classic #love fktr find em whimsical :)#can i talk my shit. how are this and kaiyaku so underrated bro WHAT!!!!

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nekokoaa · 1 year ago

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The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered.

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him.

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone.

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold.

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events.

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.”

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read.

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction.

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

------------------------------

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

375 notes · View notes

jaemified · 1 year ago

Text

major, minor, and the things in between - nishimura riki

"are we friends, lovers, or whatevers in between?"

pairing ; nishimura riki x fem!reader

genre ; slice of life, enemies to lovers-ish (y/ns mean to riki smh), romance, drama, fluff, small angst, non idol au

warnings ; swearing, drinking, brief mention of blood (someone gets cut), mention of offing yourself but its just niki making a joke

wordcount ; 7.0k

synopsis ; though never quite well acquainted, sim y/n had always felt strongly against nishimura riki, until her brother jake had forced them to get along. but, what was meant to have them get closer turns into something a little more.

note (5/29) - there isnt rlly much mention of jake/nikis actual siblings but for one scene theirs like additional (baby) siblings

note (7/10) - its finally here!! im a little upset it took me 2 months to write 7k since i used to be able to write 4k in 8hrs but summer has been kicking my ass so im glad its out despite being 10 days past release date

taglist 🏷️ ; @stinkoscope @asyleums

read below the cut !

"'when im with you, i.. im so happy. i like you, na bora!' 'i like you. i like you too! i really really like you!'" y/n cried at her computer screen, rewatching 20th century girl for the 2nd time this week, before being so rudely interrupted by her brothers presence, bugging her with the same, repetitive question. the same question hes been asking for years on end now.

"the guys are coming over and of course you know niki is gonna be here as well. i want you to talk to him. why cant you just be friends?"

"id appreciate it a lot if youd leave, this is my space."

"i dont know if you noticed, but this is a small flat with not much room to move around. its not only you living here you know." jake reminded.

of course y/n knew there was limited space, she knew the moment she first realized she had already circled about the unit, trying to escape her brothers nagging.

"if you know theres not enough room for you and me then what makes you think theres room to accommodate an additional 6 other grown ass men. go to your room, im doing homework.'

'annoying..'

"you were literally just crying watching 20th century girl milliseconds before i walked in, and im not asking much y/n! all i want is for you to talk to him, even pretend like youre getting along, thats it!" jake remarked, before catching the pillow y/n attempted to throw at his face.

'so damn annoying.' y/n thought, growing more and more annoyed by her brothers constant nagging as each second passed.

"whats so hard about getting along with niki? hes a good kid!" jake complained. since his little sister couldnt get along with one of his best friends, it made even the intimate gatherings.. unpleasantly awkward.

"hes annoying, like you are being right now."

"no, why do you really hate him so much."

"i dont know! he just reminds me of someone i guess? and he always cheated on projects back in middle school. even stole my ideas so he could make it look like im in the wrong."

"thats it? youre holding a grudge over him just being a middle school kid from, what, 5 years ago? cmon, theres gotta be something better then that. not to mention even if there wasnt, that makes you sound hella dumb holding a grudge from the 7th grade when youre graduating next year."

y/n thought to herself. of course there was another reason, but it seemed unnecessary to bring up. and she also just didnt want to share it with jake. or maybe, it wasnt the right reason after all.

"well hes cocky as hell and is still a better dancer, basketball player, volleyball player then i, not to mention ive been playing longer and layla likes him more then she likes me!"

"thats your fault youre never home, laylas just more used to him. and me. i am clearly her favorite between you and i."

"more like his fault hes practically living in my apartment cause hes never at his own home. and how can she be more used to him when ive known her since way before she met riki.."

"tough luck." jake pat y/n on the head on his way out before shutting the door.

__________________________________________

the sound of the doorbell awoke y/n from her, well, what was meant to be a quick nap (which later turned into a 4 hour sleep). just as she slowly got out of bed to answer it, she heard jake yell from down the hall, "ive got it! make sure you dont look stupid or anything in front of my friends!"

she rolled her eyes and climbed back into bed, thinking about her outfit. standard pajamas, plaid shorts and a black tee (which probably wasnt even hers). she thought about how the one person out of the 6 she didnt want to see would be out there. truth be told, even she herself didnt know the best explanation as to why she hated riki so much. y/n figured it was because of a little mishap back during freshmen year and she just couldnt bring herself to apologize for everything that had been said during that time, so she forced herself to continue hating him. 'yeah, seems about right.'

the sound of the door opening caught her attention and the next thing she knew, there was a boy in a cream essentials hoodie jumping onto her.

"oh shit, what the f-"

"hi y/nnn!" sunoo smiled, carefully getting off his best friend.

y/n was in joy once she realized who it was, and brought him into a tight hug.

"hey sunoo! god it feels like forever since i last saw you!"

it was really only a week.

"i know right! its been too long!"

she smiled, no matter what mood she was in, sunoo always was the sunshine in the rain.

"so, whos here?"

"oh, you know the usual. sunghoon, heeseung, jake, and jay hyung. niki and jungwon are supposed to be setting up something in the courtyard."

"setting up what?"

"a volleyball net. jake was on nikis ass all week and wanted him to 1v1 you while we all played basketball. jungwon just wanted to help however he could, hes been tired all week from his job and the dance program."

no fucking way.

"youre saying i have to be alone, with nishimura riki? hell no!"

"isnt it great?" "this is a disaster!" they both exclaimed in unison.

"how is that bad?" "how is this good?!"

sunoo signaled for y/n to continue first. "i just cant stand riki. jakes been on my ass to talk to him but i didnt think hed actually talk to him, or that hed even listen either."

"seriously? i always thought you had a thing for him. i mean, you look good together, you both share mainly the same interests, mainly the same circle, not to mention the undeniable love you have when your eyes meet-"

"okay thats enough! you know what, how bout we go outside, im hungry anyway."

sunoo shrugged and went along with y/n down the hall.

he was slightly surprised when he saw niki and jungwon sitting on the couch, having a sip of their drinks.

"back already? i thought you were setting up the nets."

"yeah, but it was easier then expected. and we didnt even need to go to the lobby for the stuff. it was all already in the courtyard." jungwon told the two with a smile, proud of their work.

"y/n." niki looked at her with that stupid grin she had always hated.

"nishimura."

"i didnt know youd be here." he observed, ignoring how she had addressed him by his last name instead of niki, or riki.

she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"i live here dipshit. you think id run away just cause i knew you were coming?"

niki got up from his seat and walked closer, and closer, until their faces were mere centimeters away.

"just like you ran from all our problems in freshmen year huh?"

"you realize it was all because of what you did, dont you?"

it took niki a minute to notice how close they were. he looked down at her lips before realizing what sunoo and jungwon were saying in the background. "are they about to kiss?"

"hell no!" y/n and niki both yelled out in unison, quickly pushing away from each other.

"whatever. i need to use the bathroom, i cant stand seeing your face." she remarked to niki.

as soon as y/n closed the bathroom door, she let out a breath she never knew she was holding in, slowly trying to register what had just happened. 'did i really almost kiss him.'

minutes after being stuck in the bathroom for so long, she left and walked into the main living space, only to notice everyone was gone.

well, almost everyone.

"are you serious."

y/n dryly stared at the boy sitting on her couch, in her spot, watching her favorite show.

"i forgot you were still here." niki yawned.

"where is everyone?"

"did you seriously not hear them say theyre gonna get food and that theyll be back in.. three hours or more?"

"three hours or more? it does not take that long to get food, youre fucking with me." y/n walked into hers and jakes individual bedrooms to see if anyone was hiding from her, to her dismay, niki wasnt lying.

"it does if youre getting food from busan."

"why the fuck are they going all the way to busan for food??"

"language! my young ears cant take this!"

"shut up nishimura youre only 11 days younger."

"more like 11 years at heart cause you act like a grumpy old lady all the time.."

"whatd you just call me?"

"nothing!"

"so why are they going all the way to busan for food again?" y/n reminded, getting niki back on track.

"cause they got a friend whos house is down there and hes in town for the weekend, they said theyll bring us home our own order."

y/n walked into the kitchen, rummaging for food.

"what are you doing now?"

"looking for food, im gonna die if i see your ugly ass face any longer."

"what are you on about 'ugly'? girls at school love this face."

"and apparently you loved those girls too much in return.."

niki got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen bar, sitting down. "are you still mad at me about that?"

she stopped what she was doing and looked at niki, not saying anything, hoping it was enough of an answer.

"so you are." 'so he isnt all that dumb'

"look, i didnt know she had bad intentions, and you were right, i shouldve listened to you. but you really have to stop avoiding me. how was i supposed to tell you i didnt realize what she was trying to do if you keep running away?"

"how do you not realize no matter how many times i warned you?"

"i thought you did it because you were jealous."

"i did it because i loved you!"

niki froze, thinking he was crazy, thinking maybe he hadnt heard right.

"you what?"

"past tense. loved, not love. and how could you think so badly of me? we were supposed to trust each other, always tell the truth, and you thought i told you she would end up using you was because you thought i was jealous? how could you?"

he sighed, thinking about what he had done, realizing how badly he had mistreated y/n in the past, realizing there was no reversing it. he walked into the kitchen where y/n was, backing her into the corner as the kitchen was just as small as the apartment itself.

"get away from me!" she yelled, throwing ramen packet after ramen packet at niki.

"no. i know i havent been the best to you-" "more like you know youve been the worst."

niki glared at y/n.

"-and i know theres no reversing it. i realize i cant undo the past, but what i can do, is fix our future. i want to show you i can be better to you then i was then. we can be what we used to be before, us. our spark."

"there is no us, or we, or, our. but maybe just you, caught up in your daydreams." y/n pushed niki out the way, and walked out the kitchen, not noticing she was slowly being followed.

"i loved you too you know. except for the fact that i still do."

"can you just please leave." she turned around, now facing him.

her vision blurred, head dizzy, face stained, all as her glass like tears trickled down her cheeks.

"hey, its okay. dont cry."

"get away from me!"

niki attempted to hug y/n as she fought against him, trying to run from his grasp, struggling to no avail. she eventually fell still in his hold, forgetting its natural warmth and comfort.

"im sorry for everything." was the last thing y/n heard before falling asleep, growing tired and stressed from everything that had just happened.

__________________________________________

it was late at night by the time everyone else had come back, 2am to be exact. traffic was unusually heavy though it was a saturday night, not to mention the designated driver and his understudy (heeseung and sunghoon. yikes, scary night) ended up being the most wasted while everyone else was still tipsy. poor jungwon, still tired from a 4 hour nap after being on 2 hours of sleep all day, had to drive everyone through the slow traffic.

jake, who was slightly sobering up, turned on the lights in the dark room and dimmed them as his head was still throbbing. he walked into the living room and saw y/n, fast asleep with her head on nikis shoulder with his arm around her as he finished the rest of avengers endgame.

jake knew his sister well enough to know she had been crying once he focused on her puffy red eyes. but, it was a sweet moment, y/n was passed out, niki was barely conscious, and everyone was painfully drunk or achey. he figured he would just yell at riki for whatever happened in the morning.

sunghoon and heeseung ran into the kitchen (as best they could without tipping over) for water, jungwon had knocked out as soon as he sat down in the chair next to y/n, jay was busy trying to figure out how to use jakes water filter, and sunoo was sitting at the kitchen bar eating a pudding cup.

jay called for jakes help, just as his eyes had fluttered shut. begrudgingly so, jake got up and helped the three boys it the kitchen. "you press the bottom button, not the top button. the top is for ice."

"thanks." "yeah whatever."

"i know youre tired hyung, but so are we. where are we all supposed to sleep?" sunoo quietly asked, putting his hand on jakes shoulder.

he thought, looking at the three sprawled out in the living room, and the three bubbling nonsense in the kitchen. "jay and sunghoon can stay with me, ill move niki and y/n to her room, you can stay in the living room with jungwon and heeseung hyung. but move jungwon to the couch since he drove everyone."

"thanks-" sunoo cut himself off as he heard the sound of jakes receding footsteps.

__________________________________________

morning came, and though it wasnt a good one, y/n wanted to remedy that. or, remedy the nasty hangover she knew everyone would be experiencing.

she had woken up with her eyes puffy and red, and even though she didnt want to get up she knew she would have to eventually.

"is that hangover soup i smell?" jake asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he walked out his room.

"well i know riki doesnt know how to cook and jungwons still asleep. so who else would be making it?" y/n flashed a tired smile, pouring a serving for jake.

"so, why were you crying last night? and dont say you werent or that you just didnt sleep well. ive lived with you long enough now to tell the difference between your 'i didnt get enough sleep' eyes, and your 'i was crying pretty hard' eyes." he interrogated as he took a big sip of the soup. so good he almost felt better already.

"what did he tell you? or were you watching me?"

"he didnt tell me anything, he was already asleep by the time we came back. i just saw the look on your face and knew."

"just reminiscing on some bad times is all."

jake raised a brow at his sister, taking another sip.

"you dont have to tell me now if you dont want to. but i do want to hear about everything. later. when my head isnt pounding like when i heard mom push you out in the emergency room. after i take a nap. and when youve bought jungwon some coffee."

"me? why do i have to buy him coffee? im not the one who drove him because the designated drivers were too wasted."

"we typically treat him to an iced americano since hes always up taking care of us when were drunk, but we havent gotten this wasted in a while. and he spent so long getting sunghoon out the house, not to mention the long drive to the point he ended up falling asleep as soon as we got back."

y/n thought about it before mumbling a, "tough luck" to jake, patting him on the back before walking into her bedroom.

she was met with the sight of niki making the bed as she walked in. "when did you wake up?" she quietly asked.

"not too long ago, you?"

"about an hour ago. i had to cook for them."

"ah. did you sleep well? i know sleeping upright on the couch mustve been a lot less comfortable then this."

"i guess. i dont remember waking up to walk here though. jake probably carried me."

"he was way wasted, snoring loudly way before i woke up. how else do you think you got here?"

it took a minute for it to click in y/ns mind when she realized it was niki who took her to the room and slept next to her. this whole time, she thought it was her brother who lent his own room to his friends.

"of course not, he just asked me to help or make sure you got to bed safely and that i could stay with you since there was nowhere else."

'that bastard.. ill kill him one of these days. im surprised i havent already.' she spoke to herself in her head.

"so. are we good now?" niki questioned, walking over to the other side of the room.

"how can you ask me such a thing after making me relive one of the worst memories of high school ive ever had?"

"it wasnt my intention. i was just trying to explain-" "theres nothing to explain when i had already given you multiple warnings. thats on you."

y/n threw a pillow at niki and walked away, back outside.

"what was that all about?" sunghoon asked, taking a sip of the coffee he had just made. 'where did he get silk pajamas from. are- are those mine?'

"what?"

"not to bother, but i mean, you were kind of yelling." heeseung explained to y/n.

she let out a sigh, rubbing her forehead in stress.

"i dont want to talk about it right now. i- actually. you know what? ill be back."

"where are you going?" sunoo asked y/n, following her to her room just as niki walked out.

"somewhere, not sure yet. dont follow me."

"i wont, i know how much you value your alone time but- oh youre changing. hold on ill turn around. but please be safe. when will you be back?"

sunoo turned back around and saw she had changed into beige cargos and a white crop top. realizing he was staring, he looked around the room, before a certain picture caught his eyes. he walked closer to get a better look. it was baby jake feeding yogurt to baby y/n. 'awe, they were always close werent they.' he hadnt even realized y/n was talking to him, and by the time he faced where y/n was standing, she had already left out the front door.

y/n🤨; srry, u were so immersed in that picture of jake and i as kids, but i rlly wanted to leave. i cant handle being around niki. see u l8r

sunoo😴 ; no worries, have fun, stay safe, and dont take any candy from strangers lol

__________________________________________

y/n drives to her favorite cafe she always used to visit with her brother, mama han's. she sits down at the bar and scrolls deep into her camera roll, coming across some mundane memories of her and riki back when they were close.

"what can i get you, hun?" the waitress, jiwoo, asked with a small grin. she didnt look to be any younger than 40 something now, compared to the last time she visited the spot. jiwoo was always the waitress here, even served the two frequently in their childhood when they visited from australia.

"just a vanilla shake is all. extra whip please."

"sweetie, arent you lactose? it must be pretty bad if you want extra dairy."

"yeah, it is. but, im not comfortable talking about it at the moment if thats alright."

"of course it is. just hope youre doing okay." jiwoo pat y/n on the shoulder, before reaching down to get the ingredients.

"hows your brother? havent seen either one of you in a while."

"hes well, a little hungover, but hes fine."

jiwoo laughed as she poured milk into the blender. "of course. what more to expect from your brother. well, how are you? i realized i didnt really ask."

"im alright. and, do you remember niki?"

"little niki from when you were kids? the one you used to like- oh dear, dont tell me hes the reason as to why youre so down?"

"long story, but yeah. its fine though, ill deal with it. but what about you, whats going on? did you ever pursue your dream as an actress?"

"no, and i regret not going for it. i didnt get to be in stairway to heaven, but shinhye and taehee did though. which is why you need to go for what you want, otherwise you really will regret it." jiwoo advised, adding the cherry on top of the extra whip prior to sliding the glass over to y/n.

"so i should forgive him?"

"if its what you want. though i dont know the backstory, i do know that as long as its something you want then its worth a shot. the worst he can say is no, you know?"

"yeah.. oh and jiwoo, can i get a chocolate shake to go?"

"no problem, just give me 4 minutes. and- oh dont worry about it, put your card away! its on the house."

___________________________________________

y/n heard her phone buzz in the center console as she pulled into an empty parking lot. she turned the engine off the car and pulled out her phone.

sim jaeyun ; Can you come home

Y/n Sim ; can u stop using caps

sim jaeyun ; I don't think it matters but okay

sim jaeyun ; can you stop disappearing whenever you're mad at someone

Y/n Sim ; can you change my name so its not in caps

sim jaeyun ; can you stop changing the topic and just drive back because niki wants to talk to you and i was getting worried

Y/n Sim ; can u change my name

'sim jaeyun' has changed your display name to 'y/n sim'

y/n sim ; i bought u a shake from jiwoos

sim jaeyun ; no you didn't she probably got it to you for free

y/n sim ; cz im her fav sim

sim jaeyun ; im going to tell all the guys about how you pissed yourself at disneyland on splash mountain

y/n sim ; driving home rn

sim jaeyun ; no texting while driving love u

y/n sim ; lyt

she let out a small laugh at her brothers texts. she quickly got out the car, taking some pictures of the sunset for her instagram, and posting it, before driving out as the milkshake was beginning to melt.

niki got the alert y/n had posted and pressed the notification at the top of his screen. he didnt miss how the caption referenced wave to earth as it was always their favorite band to listen to together.

@/05sim_y/nn ; how can my day be bad when im with u? - [9m ago]

liked by @/02sim_ikeuu, @/suniskim, and 99 others - 20 comments

@/rikimura has liked this post ! [now]

___________________________________________

after getting back home and taking a relaxing shower (thanks to everyone leaving 2 hours prior), y/n had continued to keep herself up at night for the past week before deciding it was time to talk to riki.

she pushed her feelings aside, waking up on a random wednesday morning at the crack of dawn then randomly told herself 'ive got to do this, for my brothers sake and our friend group.' (or so she unconvincingly tried to convince herself, but thats already another thing she didnt want to get into at the moment) y/n quickly threw on whatever clothes she could gather laying about the floor, then ran to grab her car keys and hurry out the door.

as soon as she swung the big piece of metal open, she was met with the familiar sight of nishimura riki knowing when hes done wrong, his guilty face, with his hand raised and ready to knock.

"what are you doing here at the ass crack of dawn?"

"what are you doing ready to run out your apartment like its the olympics as the ass crack of dawn?" he responded to her question with a question, with the intent of knowing how much she hated it.

"actually, i was about to leave to see you. i think its time we had a talk. you know, after my.. moment, that i had last week."

"yeah. i know. its not your fault i realize now, or, im telling you that but ive realized it since the moment i lost you. i think-"

niki was interrupted by jake shouting from across the flat, "if youre gonna finally have this talk i think you should go somewhere else! can you leave soon? 'cause my girlfriends gonna come over at like 12!"

"i seriously doubt any place is open for us to be going to at 5:41 in the morning." y/n yelled in response.

"you know well mama han's is open now, and jiwoo works day and night, just go there so i can be alone!" "for 7 hours?"

niki laughed in response as he registered what jake and y/n were arguing over.

"what girlfriend?-" "-talking stage, technically, but he says theyre dating because she accidentally kissed his cheek on their first date when reaching to grab something near him."

"i remember her lips on my skin like it was yesterday, meanwhile you have yet to kiss niki." jake scoffed in english, the words flowing smoothly off his tongue with his accent before walking closer towards where y/n was standing.

"gross. if anything her accidentally very barely brushing her lips against your stupid face is the only action youll ever be getting if you keep trying to get rid of your one and only favorite little sister." y/n muttered in response, slightly ignoring niki muttering about how he thinks y/ns accent sounds cute.

"really?"

and so y/n found herself driving to mama han's cafe with niki after jake called their eldest brother, complaining she should listen to him because shes younger and if she wouldnt listen to jake himself then maybe she would listen to her older-older brother.

"you should listen to your older siblings but jake, if you had someone coming over you shouldve told her in advance. and what are you even gonna do alone for 6 hours??"

after being seated and placing their orders, niki brought back the conversation from earlier that had sort of been killed by jake.

"i get it, youre mad at me, and i shouldve listened to you. i know i fucked up and i know you see it too. i get it if you dont want to forgive me yet, or if you ever even will. but when you decide we could be good, im always here for you."

"why would i be here if i hadnt been prepared to forgive you?"

"huh?"

"i seriously question how dense you are sometimes."

"thanks for believing in me."

"no problem, but seriously. i forgive you. as much as i hate to admit it since i know youll use it against me, but i kinda missed having you around. i mean, you were my first love among other things but you were also one of my first and closest friends. it wont always be the same but im sure if we try enough we can get pretty damn close."

"god have you always been so philosophical?"

the two burst into laughter together, smiling as they took a sip of their milkshakes, reminiscing on the times they had spent together in their earlier high school years. it was moments like these that they has missed the most.

by far the most fun together (said niki), by far the most fun theyve had in a while (said y/n) after having spent the morning together, discussing and going over whats happened in the past few hours before going to pay. "ive got it," niki said, pulling out his card. "its the least i can do."

"thank you for today. i know i was hard on you but i needed this."

"no worries, i think ive owed you for a long time now right?"

"i need to do something in here real quick. you mind waiting in the car?"

"wait are you gonna be okay? i dont wanna leave you here alone."

"im a regular here, i know the people. its fine."

"are you sure?"

"if you go ill let you have the aux."

thats all it took for niki to run straight for the car, rushing to open the door.

y/n laughed as she saw him waving from the passengers seat, before going to talk to jiwoo who was busy wiping down the counters. she took a seat at the bar and felt comfort as jiwoo flashed the same smile she always would throughout y/ns childhood.

"thats a hell of a boy youve got there. special one isnt he?"

"you could say that in the very least. hes definitely special to me though."

"thats the boy you were tellin my sister about? he aint from round here, that right?" an distinct, familiar, voice spoke from the back kitchen.

"auntie jiwon?" y/n questioned in shock.

jiwon is jiwoos sister, she also used to work at the cafe just as much as jiwoo did. had been a favoritre of the customers including the sims themselves before moving to the countryside, only popping up on occasion. jake would call jiwon auntie since she was older and it had also grown on y/n.

"thats my name isnt it?" she chuckled as y/n ran up to hug her.

"wow, i cant believe it. i havent seen you in like, 7 years!"

"been a long time right? well, im just down here for a short while before i gotta go back. just here for a weddin and thought to visit my sister at work."

"thats great auntie, too bad you arent here for longer."

"yeah, well. thats what happens when you get 3 divorces and run out of money, that right jiwoo? but, seriously, whats with that boy of yours? he dont seem to be from here."

"hes not, hes from japan, for the dance academy we all go to."

"that explains a bunch. i always knew youd be a dance. you have quite the physique for it, no?"

jiwoo interrupted jiwon from rambling on the way she always would, quickly seeing y/ns desire to leave as she has other things to tend to.

"alright well, im sure y/n has plenty of things to do as do we, so we all really should be going. its about time for the regulars to start coming in." jiwoo awkwardly laughed as she too seemingly forgot her sisters idiosyncratic personality.

"you dont want to spend time with your auntie jiwon is it? kids nowadays have no sort of respect for their elders. you could drive a preacher to drink!"

y/n awkwardly cleared her throat and put on a smile, frozen in a sort of way as auntie jiwon hadnt seemed to be the same as she was 8 years ago.

"oh im only joking now! go on then, ill just see you in another 8 years." she sighed, overexaggerating the moment.

"its not like youre her real aunt anyway." jiwoo muttered, yet jiwon heard it.

"like your supposed to be? what are you to her anyway?"

"someone whos around of course! i practically raised her and babysitted her on top of running a restaurant with my own children whenever her parents would be in office from dusk till dawn with her brother busy at school with his own life."

"i was there too you know! she would tell me things she never told you."

"she only told you things because you made her! she was scared of you!" jiwoo rolled her eyes at jiwon before quickly gesturing for y/n to go.

"what are you doing- where is she going?" "somewhere where youre not."

as y/n go back into the car, she slightly scared niki in the middle of a game.

"what happened in there? looked kinda tense. never seen the other lady before."

"jiwoos sister. shes kinda crazy and possessive and scary. didnt even know she came back."

"maybe we should go.. shes kinda walking towards the car so i suggest to step on the gas."

"shit- shes what??"

------------------------------------------------------

within the next few months, niki and y/n drew closer to one another like they were before.

it was only a matter of time before their unresolved feelings for one another began to surface, yet they continued to push it down with all their might, not wanting to ruin anything like before.

so here y/n was, watching some random kdrama out of boredom, completely uninterested before she received a text from niki.

nishimura ; help

sim ; with what

nishimura ; baysitinf

sim ; the fuck

nishimura ; hold - my brother just took my phone

sim ; babysitting?

nishimura ; yes pls

nishimura ; jake literally js dropped off ur sister here while my brother was having a hyper thingy

nishimura ; hes just very hyper

nishimura ; send a swat team.

sim ; i dont rlly wanna watch sarang tho😐

nishimura ; BUT ITS UR SISTER??

sim ; yea but she’s a headache i have to deal with that like every weekend

sim ; i gave her to jake so i can have a free day just for her to bounce back to me😒 sim ; i hate guys named jake

nishimura ; thats what u get for abandoning a 5 year old

sim ; then im not helping

nishimura ; that lego set i bought you arrived today

sim ; see u in 20

and so here y/n found herself driving towards nikis apartment, reminding herself to lecture her brother once they both get home.

“good thing you came otherwise i mightve actually killed myself.”

“this better be good, i dropped crash landing on you for this.”

with that, niki stepped aside to point at the kids behind him without breaking eye contact with y/n, not wanting to look inside only to furrow his brows as she tilted her head in confusion.

“is this a joke?” she scoffed.

“what are you talking about?” his jaw dropped once he saw sarang and hiro getting along together just fine, completing some puzzle together. “i swear they werent getting along and hiro was just bouncing off the walls, plus sarang was like having a meltdown about ice cream!”

y/n slightly grinned then spoke, “you look fine. they look more then fine. you don’t need my help. did you just want an excuse to see me?”

“no! i- i mean i kinda wanted to see you but that’s not why- i, ughh!”

y/n held back a small laugh at nikis frustration before she heard the two kids watching them giggle adoringly at their older siblings.

“riki has a girlfriend!” “y/n has a boyfriend!” hiro and sarang exclaimed in excitement.

“im going home.”

“absolutely not.” y/n groaned in annoyance while niki pulled her into the house by grabbing onto her shoulder.

“so.” he awkwardly started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with the palm of his hand.

“so??”

“about yesterday.”

“what about it.”

“we’re good right?”

“of course we are.” she reassured.

just as niki was able to reply, sarang began to cry loudly, like she saw a monster in her closet or something.

“what happened?”

“i cut myself!” she cried, showing the skin between her fingers. her and hiro had been doing small arts and crafts for the past hour, so she has hurt herself with the scissors.

“just put a bandaid on and ice it.” y/n rolled her eyes, shaking her head while not even bothering to look up from her phone.

“you’re so mean y/n unnie!” sarang pouted before holding her ‘injured’ hand up to nikis face.

“what is this, the school nurse? you gotta be a more helpful sister then that.”

“i am helpful. i asked her what happened then gave her a solution.”

“but you were so mean to her.”

“im teaching her to be tough! our parents were hard on me and my brothers, so we have to be hard on her.”

“but you aren’t your parents. you’re y/n.”

“but what if i don’t want to be just y/n?”

“well, then that’s not something you can control. you’re you whether you like it or not. you gotta learn to accept life as it is. that’s what really being hard on yourself is, and that’s what it does to you.”

niki goes over to sarang to pick her up and carry her over to the kitchen. he sets her on the counter and grabs a pastel flower print bandaid before placing a small kiss onto where he placed the bandaid.

he coos at her lovingly, with him who’d always seen her as his own sister having had watching her grow up since she was born despite her not really remembering much of him.

y/n felt her heart melt as she saw how good he was with her baby sister.

she got up from her seat to go over where they were, wrapping her arms around nikis waist to envelop him with into a warm back hug, pressing her head into the space between his shoulder and neck, letting it rest there.

“mean unnie.” sarang stuck out her tongue at y/n, pushing her face away from niki as she stuck out her tongue back.

“what are you, 5?”

“no but she is.”

niki sighed before pulling away (he really didnt want to but you didnt need to know that) grabbing his car keys, and picking up his brother.

“let’s go for some ice cream.”

so here you were, sitting at the local ice cream parlor together.

niki’s face turned as he watched you absolutely devour those three scoops (scoups) of mint chip.

“i seriously dont see how you could eat that. it tastes like toothpaste.”

“why are you talking when you’re eating plain vanilla.”

“hey, sometimes basic is better!”

“well you don’t have to like mint then. ‘cause me and this kid do!” she jokingly replied, hugging said kid (hiro) while niki and sarang rolled their eyes with their vanilla cones.

“hate to be a bother, but you guys are such a cute little family. youre just like me with my kids when they were still young. and, little girl, you really have your fathers eyes.” an elder women from a table across the parlor smiled, patting y/n and niki on the shoulder as she ignored her husbands remarks “stop disturbing the little couple!”

“do we really look like a family?”

“sort of, if you really think about it.”

“okay but she had to be lying because your eyes look nothing like sarangs.”

“i mean.. if you look closely enough.”

“you aren’t even korean!”

they laughed together, for the first time in a while.

“okay, but on a serious note. what are we? are we friends, lovers, or whatever’s in between?”

“i mean.. I guess for now, in between.”

“please date y/n unnie! shes sooo lonely and boring.” sarang interrupted, tugging on nikis sleeve.

“yeah! and i want more playdates with sarang!” hiro pouted, looking up with puppy eyes at y/n.

niki laughed at the kids’ reactions, before taking y/ns hand into his.

“well, no matter what you decide, let’s see where this takes us. they seem to be up for it anyway.”

“you’re right. alright, fine. but if you fuck this up again, you realize you’re not getting another chance, right?”

“i promise i won’t hurt you again. it already cost me everything last time.”

“glad you’re aware.” she bitterly mumbled.

“so. you will date me then?”

“ill think about it.”

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