#if there were like. normal people. then it would probably be treated differently | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 11 months ago

Text

Villain! Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: fantasy, angst, smut, crack, cigarettes, stalking (for good), physical fights, injury, murder, death (not the reader, not seungcheol), paranormal elements (superpowers, misshapenness, telepathy, and floating), moral ambiguity (unclear distinctions between "heroes" and "villains"), sex toys, oral (f. & m.), getting caught masturbating, cock riding, edging, creampie, DIRTY TALK.

You’ve dated a guy from the basketball team in high school, a guy from the cafeteria you used to frequent, and had your flings with… normal people. Gym rats or those who sang at the local bar.

But never... a hero?

He was kind, and romantic, and treated you well—in the beginning of your relationship. But then he became distant, always desperate to go home at night, barely sleeping at your apartment. You thought about a whirlwind of things, like a normal person would think of; that he was cheating on you, that he had stopped loving you.

Tonight, you’re making dinner—a last-ditch effort to please him, to make him notice you again. The TV in the living room is tuned to the news, the background noise almost comforting. You chop vegetables with precise, almost robotic movements, your mind drifting.

“He’s probably just busy,” you mutter to yourself, trying to believe it. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.

Just then, a headline on the TV catches your attention. You glance up, expecting to see something mundane. Maybe an officer, a firefighter, or even a regular person with good sociology. Instead, you see your boyfriend, wearing a red hero cape, flying around the city. The spatula in your hand falls directly onto the ground, clattering loudly.

[Hero is seen flying between skyscrapers to make the city of Seoul increasingly safer.]

“What the...?” Your heart races as you stare at the screen, unable to believe your eyes.

Your boyfriend, the man you’ve been worrying over, is a fucking superhero? Just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy?

The front door opens and he walks in, looking tired but carrying the same gentle smile that used to make your heart flutter. Tonight, though, it only fuels your confusion and frustration.

“Hey, babe,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees your expression, the dropped spatula. “What’s wrong?”

You point at the TV, unable to form words. He follows your gaze, and his face falls as he sees the news footage.

“Ah, you found out,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

[...]

This is how it started. It's as if, when you didn't know, he still made a point of being present here and there. But now that you know, he doesn't even care about it anymore. “I have to save the country, love,” you’ve heard this a bunch of times.

So when you turn on the TV, you have to see him flexing those stupid big muscles—that he gained out of nowhere—making you doubt if he’s using padding or prosthetics under that cheesy costume.

He shouldn’t be seen around your house, so the 'villains' don’t know where you live.

You don't recognize him anymore. Was it egotistical to wish that he never had superpowers? That he was just a regular human, just like you?

"Hey," his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He's standing in the doorway, looking worn out but with a familiar, almost hesitant smile. "I brought takeout. Thought we could have a quiet night in."

You glance at the food in his hands, your heart aching. "A quiet night in? Like the ones we used to have?"

He sighs, setting the bags down on the table. "Yeah, like those. I know things have been... different. But I'm trying, Y/N. I really am."

"Trying?" you repeat, incredulous. "You disappear for days, and when you’re here, it’s like you’re not really here. You're always thinking about the next mission, the next villain."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "The powers, the responsibility... it just happened."

"Did it?" you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Because it feels like you chose this. Like you chose being a hero over being with me."

His eyes widen, pain flickering across his face. "That's not true. I didn't choose this over you. I chose this because... because I want to make the world a better place. For us."

You shake your head, "But what about making our world better? What about being here, with me? Being present?"

As you sit down to eat, the TV plays in the background, another heroic feat being broadcasted. You hesitate, looking at the man you once knew so well, now feeling like a stranger.

With great insistence, you managed to make him sleep in your bed. When you left the bath to join him in your sheets, he was already sleeping—hibernating, snoring like never before. You sigh, laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this until you saw the perfect clouds through the window, fluffy, looking like cotton candy, with the blue sky painting a canvas behind them. It was a beautiful morning.

You don’t remember leaving the window open, so you get up to close it, stopping the wind from hitting your face. The sun was radiating, and you could see people enjoying their morning. But still... why do you feel this smell of storm coming?

The water started to flow, not from the sky, but from your eyes—your tears. The next storm is the one inside you, making small whirlwinds and huge hurricanes, carrying you and destroying you. Obviously, your boyfriend wasn't home. His smell wasn’t there, his presence was like bills payable, only at the end of the month.

You made your bed, some of your tears ruining the perfect white duvet. You walked around your kitchen, picking up the single coffee mug on your countertop and washing it.

Your coworkers noticed your face—like you had slept nothing last night—and even asked what was happening. How could you explain this? How could you explain that you were dating a guy for some years, and he turned into a superhero—flying around the city with underwear over the costume?

Of course, they would laugh, not only because it's the biggest turnoff they will ever have seen, but also because they would think it's a joke, a badly told joke. It makes you feel even more stupid for being complicit, an extra in his comic book.

You arrive home. You look at the window, open again. You roll your eyes, closing it to prevent the wind from coming in. “Are you flying through my windows now?” you mumble, half expecting an answer.

You wonder if you should watch the news again, and see your boyfriend flex his muscles in front of the pretty journalist, putting out a fire in an establishment, looking at the camera to see if they've captured his heroic act, or when he carried a mail car with one arm in front of a group of girls who were walking on the sidewalk.

You cringe, remembering all of them.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you plop down and grab the remote. You flick through the channels, each news report showing another heroic deed of his. "Great," you mutter sarcastically, landing on a channel where he’s giving an interview, his muscles practically bursting out of his suit.

He’s talking about his latest rescue, grinning at the journalist who’s batting her eyelashes at him. "And what’s next for our hero?" she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

"I’m just here to help," he replies, flashing a charming smile. "Wherever I’m needed."

You snort, turning off the TV. "Right, wherever you're needed. Except here," you say to the empty room.

You wander into the kitchen, the silence pressing in on you. You fill the kettle and set it to boil, needing something warm to soothe your frayed nerves. As you wait, you think about the early days, when he was just a guy you loved. Back when his biggest concern was making you laugh, not saving the world.

The kettle whistles, and you pour yourself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy spirals. You take a sip, leaning against the counter. "Why can’t you just be normal?" You whisper to yourself.

A sudden whoosh of air makes you jump, causing your hand to bump into the kettle. The same speed you touched it, you yank your hand back, a little burn forming. It’s nothing too serious, but enough to make you curse under your breath.

Your boyfriend widens his eyes and rushes over. “Let me help you,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“Fuck off,” you snap, pulling away. “I don’t need your help.”

He frowns, clearly hurt. How can someone not want his help? “I’m just trying to help.” his voice laced with exasperation.

Irritated by everything and the little burn on your hand, you cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Use lasers from your eyes?” You turn to the sink, running cold water over your hand.

“You’re always complaining,” he starts, his voice rising. “But you’re so difficult to deal with lately.”

You whip around, glaring at him. “Difficult? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

He crosses his arms, his expression turning snobbish. “And it’s a walk in the park for me? I’m out there saving lives.”

“Yeah, and flexing your muscles for the cameras,” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re never supportive. All you do is whine about how hard your life is.”

You feel your blood boil. “Supportive? How can I be supportive when you’re never here? When you act like being a hero is the only thing that matters?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Because it does matter! I’m making a difference.”

“And what about us?” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “What about making a difference here, with me?”

He looks at you, anger and confusion on his face. “I’m trying to balance it, but you’re making it impossible.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You know what? I wish you never turned into a hero. I wish you never had these stupid superpowers. I preferred it when you were just human, like me.”

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be weak like you humans anymore. You’re just jealous when you should be cheering for me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jealous? Is that really what he thinks? “Jealous?” you echo. “I’m not jealous. I just miss the person you used to be.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I’m still that person. You’re just too blind to see it.”

"Blind? Are you fucking serious?" you scoff, turning your back to him. "Leave," you grunt.

He furrows his eyebrows, shocked. Never in your relationship did he think he would see you like this—his cute girlfriend who begged for him to stay just one more minute, asking him to leave?

"I'm not going to repeat it," you say coldly. "You're making me feel sick."

"Fuck you then!" he curses under his breath before he storms out, leaving you stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

"Oof, I wouldn't let him get away with it if I were you."

You turn toward the voice, coming from the window—that one that you had to close again even though you already did in the morning.

A man is sitting there with the help of the fire escape stairs outside the building. He’s dressed all in black, and you can’t even distinguish how many layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hair is black, and he has one eyebrow raised as he smokes a cigarette.

People react differently when scared. Some scream, some run. But you… you feel like your feet are glued to the ground, and from your throat, not a sound escapes. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your eyes widen in shock.

He doesn’t seem to care. He drops his cigarette, watching it accidentally fall on someone’s head below.

He hisses, "Ooh, sorry about that." Then he jumps from the window, landing gracefully in your living room as he brushes off his shoulders.

“You know, you should be more careful when locking your windows. You’re the superhero’s girlfriend, I mean—ex-girlfriend now, I suppose. It seems like he didn’t teach you some basic security stuff.” He looks around your apartment, studying it. “I even drank a coffee in your Hello Kitty mug yesterday—”

“Who the fuck are you?” you cut him off, your voice finally finding its strength.

He raises his hand mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” He smirks, glancing at the mug on the counter. “Nice collection, by the way. Just here to talk”

"Talk?" you echo, incredulous. "You break into my apartment, drink my coffee, and now you want to talk?"

He smirks, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, something like that. Seems like your boyfriend left you in quite a state.''’

You cross your arms defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he chuckles. “No, I just find it interesting. You’re dating the city’s golden boy, and yet here you are, all alone. Doesn’t quite add up, does it?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your boyfriend’s activities. And you,” he says, pointing at you, “are a fascinating part of that equation.”

You scoff, still on edge. “Fascinating? What’s so fascinating about being left behind?”

He smiles, a glint of devilishness in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe even... enjoy the freedom a little.” He winks, heading back toward the window.

As he climbs out, he turns back one last time. “Oh, and lock your windows. You never know who might drop by.” With that, he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there, more confused and unsettled than ever.

You move to the window and lock it firmly, your heart pounding.

Your boyfriend had warned you that this might happen, and it happened at the worst time—when he wasn’t there.

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep that night either, now worried that a fucking stranger could break into your apartment, and instead of just drinking a coffee, he might bake a whole cake in your kitchen or, worse, do something to you.

So, you do what a ludic person would do. You start packing an emergency bag and ask to sleep at your friend’s house, using the excuse that you’ve broken up with your boyfriend—when in fact, you were more scared than anything.

[...]

More terrifying was when you needed to return home.

You open your front door, putting the bag on the floor. Before you can turn around to close the door, a hand clasps over your mouth, and the door behind you closes. You feel a warm body pressing against yours as you close your eyes tightly.

It’s your end, you think.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes. When the hand is removed from your mouth, all you can mutter is, “Don’t hurt me, please.”

You hear a scoff, and then you open one eye. The person takes his hood off, revealing the same guy from the window.

“Are you stupid? Why would I want to hurt you? I’m not a coward.” He detaches from you, looking at your still-squeezed form. “Where were you? And you did a great job locking the other windows, but your laundry window was not locked.”

You can only stare at him, your heart racing. He rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being a pissy little girl? You’re a grown woman. I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you, and if it comforts you, I won’t steal your mug collection either. Maybe some coffee powder—but, well, can you stop?”

You think you’re going crazy. Was all of this supposed to be normal?

He rolls his eyes again and disappears into your kitchen. You take small, shy—and scared—steps toward the kitchen to find him using your coffee machine, watching the coffee brew. His arms are propped on the counter, and he turns his head to look at you.

He sighs, seeing your still-compressed form, like you’re still scared of his presence.

“Seriously,” he says, straightening up. “I’m not here to hurt you. You need to relax.” He takes a mug from your collection and pours himself a coffee, casually leaning against the counter as if he belongs there.

“What do you want from me?” you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a sip of coffee, savoring it before answering. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re okay. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly around to protect you, is he?”

You glare at him. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

He smirks, clearly amused. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He sets the mug down and steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “But here’s the thing—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold your ground. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late,” he replies, his tone serious. “You’re already part of it. So, you might as well get used to it.”

You begin to shiver as his words sink in. This is your life now, tangled up with heroes and villains. And there’s no going back.

He sighs, seeing the fear in your eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But you’re tougher than you think. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, whatever—he’s not around, and that puts you in a vulnerable position.”

“You mean, you’re here to spy on me. To see if you can use me against him.”

He shrugs. “I'm here ensure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, I have some principles.”

You laugh bitterly. “Principles? Breaking into someone’s home and terrorizing them is principled now?”

He sets the cup down and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But you need to be more careful. This world you’re tangled in—it’s dangerous.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to believe him. “And you’re what, my guardian angel now?”

He smirks. “Hardly. Think of me as a… concerned party. I don’t want unnecessary casualties.” “Stay out of trouble. Keep your head down.”

With that, he finishes his coffee and heads toward the window. “Remember, I'm not your enemy, but I'm definitely his. Don't make me your enemy too.”

"Wait!" you call out. He stops and turns around slowly, his expression curious. "W-who are you?" you stammer.

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really want to know?" he asks, his tone dripping with mocking curiosity.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re practically living here. I should at least know your name."

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "More like a roommate situation, huh? Alright, if you really want to know, you can call me Seungcheol. And if you’re genuinely interested in what I do, maybe I’ll take you to my HQ someday, show you my plans."

You grimace at his tone, which only makes him laugh harder.

Before heading down the emergency stairs, he looks back at you. "Stay close, alright? I need to keep tabs on you. You’re a bit exposed out here." He winks and disappears, leaving you standing there, more confused than before.

Seungcheol—the window guy, as you’d come to call him—disappeared physically for some days, but his presence lingered in odd, unsettling ways. You started finding pieces of ripped paper around your house, each with a different message.

“Keep your windows locked.”

“Log out of your social media from your home computer.”

“Check your door lock twice before bed.”

“Don’t leave your spare key under the mat.”

And one particularly embarrassing note: “I know you miss your hero-boyfriend, but can you also hide your sex toys? I’m traumatized.”

The embarrassment lasts only a few minutes each time, but then you think, nobody asked him to keep coming into your house. Still, there was a strange sense of security in knowing he was keeping an eye on things, even if his methods were invasive and borderline creepy.

Days turn into a week, and the silence feels heavy.

You find yourself almost missing the bizarre meetings. One night, as you’re cleaning up after dinner, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. You draw the curtains aside to find Seungcheol lounging casually on the fire escape, looking like he belonged there.

“Miss me?” he quips, flashing you a smirk.

You roll your eyes, opening the window slightly. “You really need to get a hobby, Seungcheol.”

“This is my hobby,” he says, slipping inside without an invitation. “Keeping tabs on you is surprisingly entertaining.”

“You know, you could at least pretend not to notice my vibrator,” you snap, half-joking, half-mortified.

Seungcheol grins, “Hey, it’s hard to miss when it’s just lying around. You could be more discreet.”

You huff in annoyance, continuing to clean up. He opens your fridge, rummaging around like he owns the place. “Any news?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He casually bites into an apple. “Yep. One of his enemies is planning to invade your place tomorrow at 7:48 p.m. The exact time you get home from work.”

You spin around, eyes wide. “What?! What do I do?”

“I suggest you stay close to me,” he shrugs. “I can keep you safe, make sure no one uses you as a pawn.”

“You want me to trust you?” you ask, incredulous.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to have some alien freak shoving its tentacles down your throat?”

You give him an exasperated look. “I knew you’d have this reaction,” he says, shrugging. He places a flash drive on your kitchen counter. “Watch it yourself.”

You close your eyes, massaging your temples. You don’t know if you’re ready to see what’s on that flash drive, much less trust a stranger who claims to be your ex-boyfriend’s enemy.

“I need you to leave. Even if he’s my ex, I still can’t do something like this.”

Seungcheol nods, looking up like he expected this. “Your boyfriend won’t be here to rescue you if that’s what you’re counting on.”

“How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even know you!”

“Because if your stupid boyfriend didn’t buy those superpowers, he’d be nothing. Without that silly red cape and the TV cameras, he’s just an insecure guy who wants to be seen. And— come on, he didn’t care about the girlfriend he had waiting at home. You think he cares about saving random people? Don’t be dumb.”

His words sting, and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. He nods negatively as he walks out again, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words sinking in. You don’t want to believe him, but deep down, you know there’s some truth to what he’s saying.

With a sigh, you look at the flash drive on the counter.

The next day was a mess from the moment you woke up. You couldn't find your white shirt, and your baby liss was nowhere to be found. Running late, you had to leave without fixing your hair.

Work was a blur of you staring blankly at your computer screen, your mind preoccupied with the fear that some tentacle monster might actually show up at 7:48 p.m.

Were you being stupid for believing a guy you met barely a week ago? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be a little suspicious?

As you stepped off the bus and walked along the sidewalk toward your building, your watch read 7:58 p.m. You glanced up at your window. The lights were off, and everything looked normal. No way a villain would get you, right?

"I knew he was lying," you mutter quietly to yourself, almost convincing.

But your conviction didn’t last long. A massive purple tentacle exploded through your living room window, sending concrete and bricks crashing to the street. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Was that a person in the middle of those giant tentacles? Were you homeless now?

"Are you gonna hop on or let these ugly tentacles suffocate you?" Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the chaos.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You turned to see him in his black outfit, waiting on his motorcycle. Your instinct was to kneel on the ground and cry about your now-destroyed apartment, but you didn't have time for that.

You sulked a bit before grabbing the helmet from his hand and hopping onto the bike, your hands wrapping uncertainly around his waist.

As Seungcheol sped off towards his HQ—or hideout, whatever it was—your tears started to flow. "My apartment... it's ruined. All my stuff, my mug collection, my unicorn pajamas I didn’t even get to wear yet," you whined into his back.

Seungcheol fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Seriously? We're running from a monster, and you're worried about unicorn pajamas?"

“Yes!” you sniffled. “They were so cute. And now I don’t even have a place to sleep. My place is ruined, and all my goods are probably destroyed.”

“Focus on staying alive first,” he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“But my mugs… My unicorn pajamas…” you continued, your voice muffled against his back.

“Alright, alright,” he said, trying to placate you.

Seungcheol had to concentrate to keep from crashing as he listened to you cry and whine about your lost belongings. He knew you were overwhelmed, and though it was annoying, he understood. Reaching his hideout, he finally stopped the bike and helped you off, letting you lean on him for support.

Your first instinct is to look around. It’s a large industrial loft, the walls made of bricks, and the long windows hidden behind some opaque plastic.

The place seems to have only the essentials: a large bed with a vintage headboard, a couch, a TV. Turning around, you notice the kitchen has a coffee machine just like yours.

Then your eyes widen as you spot familiar items: the white shirt you were looking for this morning, poking out of a huge black bag, a big box labeled 'mugs’ in bad calligraphy, your hair iron with the princess tape patch on the cord, emerging from another black bag.

Several bags are sprawled on the floor, all looking ready to burst.

"M-my things!" you squeak as Seungcheol looks unbothered, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile at your happiness. You run to him, giving him a clumsy hug that he doesn’t reciprocate, before opening the bags.

"It was very difficult to bring all of your stuff," he says, trying to hide his amusement. "Can I know why you have three... inflatable flamingos all the same color?" he asks, clearly judging the quirky items he found while gathering your things from your dresser.

You don’t respond, too busy rifling through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning.

You open another bag with a big smile on your face, which quickly fades when you see what’s on top: your vibrator, handcuffs, and lube.

You widen your eyes and try to close the bag with an awkward smile, but it’s too late. Seungcheol turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath as if trying to pretend he wasn’t the one who had to gather your spicy stuff.

You clear your throat, standing up and brushing off your knees. “When did you get all of this? I mean—how did you do it so quickly?”

"Some friends helped me," he answers, watching your reaction.

You widened your eyes, and he knew why.

“Chill out, I packed your Christian Grey stuff myself,” he said, looking up as if remembering something. “And what's with that neon green, dildo? Seriously?”

You stuttered, your face flushed. “I-I didn’t use that, it was a gag gift!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting you off with a furrowed brow.

“That’s… oddly considerate of you,” you admitted, still processing everything.

He shrugged again, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a nice guy.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed, “Thanks, I guess. It’s just… embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve seen worse,” he shrugged.

“Worse than a neon green dildo?”

He chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”

You point at the large industrial loft around you. “So, this is your place?”

"Not as fancy as yours, but, yes, it is," Seungcheol responds, shrugging nonchalantly.

You shake your head, still taking in the surroundings. "I wouldn’t call my place fancy. Just... more pink."

He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I noticed. You have a thing for unicorns and pastels."

You look around, taking in the mix of sparse furniture and personal touches. "Why do you have my stuff, anyway?"

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Had to make sure you had everything. Can't have you running back to your place and getting into trouble."

You shake your head, still in disbelief. "You really don’t look like a villain."

He scoffs, giving you a sideways glance. "That's because I don't have a red cape? You don’t look this naughty either. I discovered it in the worst way."

You try to slap his shoulder playfully, but he catches your hand with his quick reflexes, smirking as he lets go and starts walking toward the loft above. You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Different from your boyfriend, I don’t need muscle superpowers to be relevant,” he says, glancing back at you as he ascends the stairs.

You glance around as you reach the upper level, which is filled with computers, chemistry equipment, and some jackets thrown randomly around. "So, what exactly do you do here?"

"Let's just say I have my ways of keeping an eye on things," he replies, tapping on one of the computer screens. "Information is power, you know."

You nod slowly. "And what's your plan with all this power?"

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your question. "That depends. What do you think I should do with it?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not exactly an expert on villainous plots."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not planning world domination. Just...taking care of some business."

You tilt your head, still trying to piece everything together. "And what kind of business would that be?"

He sighs, looking frustrated at you—but trying to be patient. "Let's just say there are a lot of things that need fixing, and sometimes you have to break a few rules to get it done."

You frown, thinking about his words. "And my ex-boyfriend...does he know about any of this?"

Seungcheol shrugs. "He knows I exist, but he doesn't know the details. Probably too busy flexing for the cameras."

You can’t help but smile. "Yeah, he’s definitely good at that."

Seungcheol looks at you seriously. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me, it’s better you know the truth. You can’t go back to being ignorant."

"So, what do we do? I can't just hide forever."

Seungcheol sits on the edge of a desk, looking thoughtful. "You’re here because you’re vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable?" you interrupt, crossing your arms. "You make it sound like I’m helpless."

Seungcheol stops for a moment, looking at you blankly.

"Think fast!" he says suddenly, throwing a sock ball in your direction. You instinctively step back, catching the ball, but your back overtakes the loft railing.

Seungcheol gets up from his chair, moving swiftly to grip you tightly before you fall to the floor below. You go static as you look at him, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you.

"You're good at catching," he says, glancing at the sock in your hand. "But you need to have a better sense of space."

Your heart pounds, both from the near fall and his closeness. "What was that for?"

He releases you, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "Training. If you’re going to stay here, you need to be alert."

You nod. "Okay, but maybe warn me next time?"

He chuckles, stepping back to give you some space. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes, tossing the sock ball back at him. He catches it effortlessly. "So, what’s the plan? How do I learn to protect myself?"

Seungcheol tilts his head, considering. "I don't know... Maybe some basic self-defense? For example, if i do this—" He moves quickly, throwing a punch towards you—not to hit, but to test your reaction.

You manage to dodge, but not gracefully. He smiles. "Not bad for a beginner. We'll keep working on that."

[...]

You still miss your apartment, and a lot of your things are still in bags, which you pick through only when you need something. You always wondered what really happened in movies when heroes destroyed the whole city during battles. Now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. Your apartment is being repaired by the building’s construction company, with help from insurance. So, more days living with Seungcheol.

It’s not bad. It’s strange, for someone used to being alone at home. He leaves at night, just like your ex-boyfriend, but spends more of his days in the loft—more than your ex-boyfriend ever did.

He’s actually teaching you something useful. The two of you spar in the loft, not even needing to move furniture since there isn’t much. And he’s hard on you.

You support your hands on your knees, panting, while he looks untouched. "C’mon! Are you tired already?"

You straighten up, mocking his tone. "Unfortunately, my ex who fights around didn’t give me a preview of how to box."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to fight. He only has his powers to his advantage."

“You didn't watch what was on the flash drive, did you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

He sighs and asks you to come up. He sits you in his chair, in front of his computer, and opens a folder. There’s a video of your boyfriend inside a laboratory. It looks very old.

"I need more than just strength and flight," your boyfriend says in the video, addressing what looks like a scientist. "We’ve been studying this for years. My time has come."

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back,” the scientist asks.

“I’m sure. I can’t keep living this mediocre life,” your boyfriend replies.

“But what about the people around you? They’re at risk,” the scientist says.

Your ex-boyfriend's response breaks your heart, though you can’t deny it fits his recent arrogance. "I don’t care. I need this."

The scientist sighs and then injects several different colored serums into your ex’s body. He groans, and as he begins to levitate, the video blurs and turns off.

You stare at the blank screen, processing the information. Seungcheol leans back, giving you space.

"See what I mean?" he says. "He wasn’t thinking about you, or anyone else. Just himself."

“So, he chose this. He actually wanted this.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, he did. It wasn’t some accident or noble cause. He was just desperate to be more than he was.”

You sit back, processing the information. “He used to be so different. I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

“That’s what power does to some people,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the desk. “It changes them.”

Seungcheol’s screens start to beep urgently, pulling his attention away from you. He walks calmly to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. The steady rhythm of his movements contrasts with the beeping noises filling the space.

He’s about to leave again when he pauses, his back facing you.

You watch him, restless, pacing back and forth as your mind churns over the recent revelations. His peripheral vision catches your agitation. He glances sideways, noticing the anxiousness in your steps.

He moves towards the door, then hesitates and turns back. “If you need anything, just—”

“Yeah, I know. Just call you, right?” You finish his sentence, giving him a small, knowing smile.

He smirks, nodding. “Exactly. Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he leaves the loft, the door closing behind him.

You knew Seungcheol would arrive home late, and you needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the last bottle of wine was finished yesterday when you couldn't find anything else to drink with your popcorn.

Sweets maybe? Well, a villain’s house would have sweets? No, just as you thought. The only thing left was a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

You find yourself on the rooftop of Seungcheol's loft, the cigarette smoke filling your lungs and burning your throat. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and coughed every time the smoke filled your lungs.

But that’s what you had to dissolve a bit of your anxiety, your last moments with your ex replaying in your mind. So he never cared at all?

Suddenly, your cigarette is slapped out of your hand. You turn around to see your ex, his costume perfect, but his eyes deep and face scarred.

“This is what Seungcheol has taught you then? Aren’t you ashamed?” He sneers.

You open your mouth to answer, but he comes closer, making you flinch.

He scoffs. “What? You’re scared of me? Let me tell you something... He is the villain. And you’ve joined his side, my enemy, after all we had.” He spits the words out with venom.

Rage boils within you, making you feel not like yourself. “Seungcheol took care of me. If I were alone, I would be dead. You don’t know what kind of superpower this is.”

He grabs your arm, making you feel dizzy, your vision cloudy. The pain is intense and senseless.

“What? You thought a villain would help you? You’re fragile. You need attention so bad that I couldn’t even handle you.” You fall to the ground, the pain spreading through your body as you groan.

“You know what? If you think he’s going to be your enchanted prince, you’re wrong. So damn wrong. The chances of him wanting to kill you are greater than that stupid dream of yours—”

You hear an impact, and the dizziness and pain slowly dissipate. You breathe properly again. When you come back to your senses, you look up to see Seungcheol, fighting with your ex. Seungcheol is taking a beating, only advancing when your ex's power falters, like a lag.

You could leave sneakily, but was it right? Seungcheol literally protected you from your own ex, showed you his true colors, and taught you the best of himself. Even though he is cold and "cruel" as they say.

As you're thinking, a glass sound pulls you from your mind. It's an injection.

You see your ex crawling desperately to get it. Seungcheol gives you an exasperated look, signaling for you to pick it up.

You grab it, walking back as your ex roars for you to leave it. You clutch it in your fist and, in a moment of desperation, inject it into your leg.

Your ex widens his eyes. But the substance is too powerful for you. You fall again, the pain overwhelming you.

He laughs, but Seungcheol is on him, beating him relentlessly. The fight intensifies, Seungcheol’s blows becoming more furious. You can barely focus on their struggle, the pain in your leg is consuming your thoughts.

The injection burns through your veins, making you feel like you’re on fire. You clench your teeth, trying to endure it. Your ex's laughter turns into cries of pain as Seungcheol lands a particularly harsh blow.

Seungcheol’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you see the determination in them. He’s fighting for you, protecting you with everything he has.

Seungcheol pauses, turning his attention away from you as the hero rises once more, clearly summoning his last reserves of strength.

Seungcheol stands confidently, knowing he has a chance to defeat him—if only he weren't standing on the edge of the building.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t possess flying superpowers. Instead, he grips the edge of the building with nothing but the strength of his fingers, looking up at the hero who towers above him.

Yet, Seungcheol has one special superpower, the reason he's considered the villain: the ability to listen to those who need help, like an echo in his mind. He hears the calls for aid and responds in his own way, without the expensive, extraneous superpowers the heroes pay billions for.

Unlike them, who need to buy their abilities, Seungcheol was born with his. He helps those living on the margins of society, without seeking fame or recognition. He doesn’t want to appear on TV or in the news.

Inside the heroes' world, he is well recognized, but without the money and science they have.

Seungcheol has nothing in his favor.

Yet, he still manages to help people. They can’t understand him. And hate can come easily to that which is too remembered.

His body can't manage more than this—more than his telepathy.

If it could, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’s going to end up like this. His death won’t be caused by a big octopus or a giant RoboCop, as other heroes did. But by a great show of charity. He would do it for any citizen, but the fact that it’s you makes him have no regrets at all.

Seungcheol’s fingers start to slip, and he knows his time is running out. The hero stands above him, a look of triumph on his face. But Seungcheol’s mind is calm, even serene. He’s made peace with his fate.

The hero moves closer, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s telepathy kicks in stronger than ever. He hears the cries of the people he’s saved, their voices filling his mind.

He has always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, without the need for glory or recognition.

The world may see him as a villain, but he knows the truth.

His life has been a quiet rebellion, a stand against the notion that only the powerful can be heroes.

Seungcheol's mind becomes silent, and he can only hear your groans. His eyes close as he tries to hear from you again.

“Y/N?” he telepathizes, his voice entering your mind, velvet and deep.

You groan again, and he asks. “I’m here... are you alright, my love? Can you walk?”

The affectionate nickname makes your heart flutter. Seungcheol agonizes when the hero's steps on his fingers, but he agonizes more because he can't hear a proper response from you. Desperation sets in.

“Answer me, please. I’m not going to last,” he telepathizes again.

“Seungcheol...” he hears your voice and breathes out, relief washing over him. He looks down, watching the movement on the street below. It was too much of a drop to survive. His fingers were burning with pain.

“Seungcheol...” you call again. He shuts his eyes, clinging to the sound of your voice. “Let go,” you tell him. The words hit him like a jolt. He doesn’t understand. His arms tremble with the effort of holding on.

“Trust me, trust me, trust me.” He hears it like a whisper around his head. The conviction in your voice pierces through his fear.

He loosens his grip, his fingers slipping from the edge.

The air envelops his body like a hug as he falls, the distortion from the speed making the street sounds blur into a cacophony. The only thing he can think of is how you’re going to live by yourself now.

As he falls, memories flash before his eyes. He remembers every face he saved, every life he touched, his quiet acts of heroism, every moment of your brief time together, and then, vividly, your face.

He thinks of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.

The moment Seungcheol hits the ground, he expects the pain, the end. Instead, he feels a strange warmth spreading through his body. He blinks, realizing he’s lying on a soft cushion of air, suspended just above the pavement. The hero stares down in disbelief.

Seungcheol’s body is gently lowered to the ground. He looks up to see you standing on the rooftop, your hand outstretched, eyes closed in fierce concentration. As his feet touch the ground, your eyes snap open, and you breathe out in relief.

Before Seungcheol can react, you advance on the hero, the two of you disappearing in a blur of motion and light atop the building.

Blinding flashes illuminate the rooftop as Seungcheol scrambles to his feet, urgency driving him forward. He runs into the building, tripping on the flights of stairs in his haste. The sounds of the battle above echo down to him, and he pushes himself harder, every fiber of his being focused on reaching you in time.

Seungcheol bursts onto the rooftop again, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold.

Your ex-boyfriend lies lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. In your trembling hand, the hero’s heart reactor device glows faintly, now smeared with blood.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol shouts, rushing to your side as your knees give way, collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The powers from the injection still course through your veins, but your energy is completely spent. You tremble in his hands, your body feeling like it’s made of lead.

The weight of what you’ve done hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare down at the reactor in your hand, the blood smeared on your fingers, and a violent shudder runs through you. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the acrid scent of smoke, and it’s all too much.

“I never wanted it to end like this,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Your face is frozen in shock, eyes wide and unseeing as you try to process the magnitude of your actions. “I-I’ve killed someone.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, his grip on your shoulders firm yet gentle. “You did what you had to do,” he says, his voice low and steady. “He would’ve killed you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you insist, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to become a killer.”

Seungcheol’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth seeping into your cold, shaking body. “Listen to me,” he says firmly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. He put you in this position, not the other way around.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you sob uncontrollably. The reactor slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanted to be safe,” you cry, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re strong,” he says simply, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Stronger than you realize. And because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache. Despite everything, there’s a flicker of hope in his gaze that you can’t ignore.

Seungcheol brings you back to his loft, your body feeling heavy and numb. He helps you inside the shower, carefully removing your clothes. You sit on the floor, naked, as the warm water cascades over you, washing away the blood and grime.

There’s no malice or ulterior motive in his actions—only a quiet, pure care. You stare blankly at the tiles of his shower, lost in your thoughts, while his hands work methodically, washing your hair and scrubbing away the blood stains from your skin.

You needed this.

The side effects of the injection, the strain of using powers you didn’t fully understand, have left you weak. So weak that you need him to do something as simple as this for you.

Once you’re clean, Seungcheol wraps you in a fluffy towel, drying you carefully. He dresses you in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin.

He guides you to his bed, tucking you in. You sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling at you like a heavy blanket. Seungcheol sits beside you, watching you for a few minutes. His body aches from the fight, but his concern for you overrides his own pain.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “You need to rest. Let your body recover.”

You nod, closing your eyes. The events of the night replay in your mind, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Seungcheol is there, watching over you. “You don’t have to stay,” you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I want to,” he replies softly. “Just sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand holding yours, grounding you in the midst of the turmoil. The darkness of sleep pulls you under, but for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

He waits for you to fall asleep before quietly moving around the loft, gathering what’s left of your belongings.

With quick, calculated motions, he loads his things, along with yours, into the trunk and backseat of his truck. The apartment, once filled with traces of both your lives, now stands empty, its furniture the only remnants of your presence.

When he looks at the empty space one last time, he takes a deep breath, then returns to the bedroom. Gently, he lifts you into his arms, careful not to disturb your sleep.

You’re so exhausted that you don’t stir as he carries you to the truck. His eyes flicker to you now and then as he drives, taking the road that leads to the other side of the country.

Long hours later, the sun starts to rise, casting a golden hue over the landscape. You wake up, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. You find yourself parked outside a roadside restaurant, the car silent. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you notice a blanket draped over you and realize you’re fully dressed, not just in his shirt anymore.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, fingers curling around the edges of the blanket. The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you see Seungcheol approaching with a box of food in his hands. He opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat, placing the food on the console between you.

“Hey,” he says softly, glancing at you. “How are you feeling?”

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Tired,” you admit, your voice still groggy. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the road,” he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use some breakfast.” He opens the box, revealing a variety of pastries, fruit, and a couple of sandwiches.

You nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. “Thank you,” you say, taking a bite and savoring the sweet taste. “For everything.”

He watches you eat for a moment before responding. “You needed to get away from there. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft. “But where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, his tone reassuring. "Somewhere, they won’t find us.”

You look at him, studying his face. There’s a determination in his eyes, a resolve that gives you a sense of security despite the uncertainty of your situation. “Okay,” you say, trusting him.

He nods, his eyes softening. “Finish eating. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

As you pass through small towns and sprawling landscapes, a sense of peace begins to settle over you. The rhythmic hum of the truck and the steady presence of Seungcheol at your side are comforting.

You share the occasional snack with him, your fingers brushing against his lips, eliciting a small smile from him each time.

As the truck continues down the road, the cityscape starts to take shape on the horizon. Tall buildings stand proud, their windows reflecting the sun’s light. It’s a bustling place, full of life and opportunity.

It’s everything you’ve been yearning for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

After you arrive, your legs stretch as you step onto the new asphalt. You look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and ask, “Where are we?”

Seungcheol smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’m going to show you,” he replies, leading you towards a big, white house. The house stands in stark contrast to the urban scene around it, classic and serene.

You follow him inside, and immediately, you notice people dressed in white moving about with purpose. Some are tending to children, others to elders, each room filled with an atmosphere of care and compassion. It's a place of healing and sanctuary, you realize, a refuge from the chaos you’ve just escaped.

As you walk through the house, you reach a garden at the back. The same people in white are there, playing with the children and dogs, the air filled with laughter and joy.

You notice a girl in white sitting by an easel, her fingers pressed to her temples. To your amazement, the brush on the canvas moves on its own, guided by her powers.

You stare in awe. “She’s painting without touching the brush,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

Seungcheol nods. “Yes, she’s using her powers. This place is a sanctuary for people like her, like us. A safe haven where they can learn to control and use their abilities for good.”

You look around, taking in the peaceful surroundings, the sense of community and support. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly, feeling a sense of hope blossom within you.

The next stop is a small, vintage apartment where you and Seungcheol place your things. The walls are adorned with faded floral wallpaper, and the furniture has a charming, old-fashioned feel. You sit on the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, and trail off, lost in thought.

“So, you’re a hero, not a villain,” you murmur, looking up at Seungcheol.

He pauses, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s not that simple,” he says, sitting down across from you. “People see what they want to see. To some, I’m a hero. To others, I’m a villain.”

You nod, digesting his words. “But you saved me. You brought me here. That makes you a hero in my book.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I just did what needed to be done. Sometimes, the line between hero and villain isn’t so clear.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It’s strange, you know? All this time, I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys were. But now… everything’s different.”

He nods, his eyes distant. “Life isn’t a simple story. It’s messy, complicated. People have layers, motives that aren’t always black and white.”

You turn to Seungcheol, who has laid himself out on the living room floor beside you. The gentle hum of the old radiator fills the silence between you as you finally ask the question that's been on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, glancing over at him.

He turns his head to face you, nodding slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you meet me?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “I first heard you every single night in my head before I even knew where you lived. It started with your thoughts and feelings—your fears, your doubts. I heard them all.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “You heard me in your head?”

He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t know who you were at first, just that there was someone struggling. I could sense your pain and your frustration. It was like an echo in my mind.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “When I'vve found you, I started watching the movements in your apartment. I saw you and your boyfriend fighting—a lot. I saw the nights you were left alone...”

You shift uncomfortably, thinking about all the arguments, the hurtful words exchanged. “What did you see?”

“I saw things that were hard to watch. There were nights when your boyfriend would come home drunk, lashing out at you for no reason. I saw him bringing people over, strangers who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Your heart aches as you listen. “So, you were watching all of this?”

He nods. “I was. I needed to be sure of what was happening before I intervened. I couldn’t just act without understanding the full picture. He was involved in some dangerous activities, connections with people I didn’t want you to be near.”

He looks at you with a serious expression. “I knew I had to do something. It’s my job, in a way. The place I showed you before, is where people like me come from. We’re spread out across the country, helping those in need.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you felt like you had to save me.”

“Exactly,” he says softly. “It was more than just a job. It was a responsibility. When I saw how much you were suffering, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I had to step in.”

As you lie there, processing everything Seungcheol has told you, it dawns on you that the man who once seemed so mysterious and distant wasn’t a villain at all. He was the one who sat on your window, smoking and wearing a black outfit, seemingly a shadowy figure.

He was the one who risked falling from a building to ensure your safety, who gathered your belongings—even your mug collection, and your… dildo—before your apartment was destroyed by an alien.

He was the man who, despite the doubts and fears, saved your life and now laid by your side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol’s presence beside you, so unexpectedly comforting, makes you feel secure in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. His gaze meets yours, a question in his eyes as if trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind.

Unable to hold back your emotions any longer, you roll over and drape yourself across him like a koala. The sudden weight makes him emit a funny gasp. You both end up laughing, the sound filling the room with warmth. He wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the hug with a soft giggle.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling.

You look up at him, your heart full, and press a soft kiss on his lips. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter closed, and he melts into the kiss, holding your face gently as if he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

But then, he pulls back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Wait, no, are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve just come out of a… complicated relationship.”

You can see the concern in his eyes, the careful consideration behind his words. “I am sure,” you say softly, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. You’re not a villain, and you’ve shown me what it’s like to be cared for.”

You move to kiss his forehead, then his neck, making him giggle again, his laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the conversation. He closes his eyes, savoring each tender kiss, his heart racing with every touch.

“I guess I’m just worried,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and affection. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to fill a void or something.”

You shake your head, placing one last kiss on his lips. “You’re not just filling a void. You’re something real and true, and I can feel it.”

“Can you… feel it?” he asks.

You smile against his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to reassure him. “Of course I can,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment your lips meet his again, you notice his reaction is less restrained this time. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear. His kisses grow more passionate, each touch of his lips filled with a desperate need to communicate everything he feels.

You can taste the sweetness of his affection, feel the way he melts into you, and you respond with the same intensity. Your hands explore the familiar contours of his face, as if memorizing every detail, every emotion he's conveying.

His breath quickens, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his entire body seems to respond to you, to the connection that’s unfolding between you both.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could.”

You brush your lips against his once more, a soft, tender caress. “It’s because it’s real,” you whisper. “It’s something I’ve needed for a long time.”

[...]

If you ever thought your life would change drastically, you never imagined it would be like this.

When Seungcheol left to handle his tasks for the night, it felt different. The house, though quiet, seemed fuller now.

His presence lingered in the way he had filled it with his energy, his routines, his little touches that made the space feel like more than just four walls. The absence of his constant presence was noticeable, yet somehow, it felt like a comfort.

You wandered around the house, touching things you hadn’t noticed before. There were small, personal details—like a collection of old vinyl records stacked neatly on a shelf, and a set of quirky, handmade coasters on the coffee table. They made the house feel lived in, like a real home.

In the kitchen, you found a note Seungcheol had left on the counter, scrawled in his familiar handwriting: “Pick a movie tonight. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at the simple gesture, a small piece of normalcy in the midst of the whirlwind you’d been through.

When he arrives at the apartment, the warm aroma of dinner wafts from the stove. He glances around, noticing that the movie on the TV is paused at the very beginning. It’s strange that you’re not here; usually, you’d be curled up on the couch, waiting for him.

His eyes sweep over the space, and he hangs his jacket on a dining chair, the soft thud of the fabric against the wood mingling with the hum of the refrigerator.

A sudden noise catches his attention—an “Ah!” from somewhere in the apartment.

Seungcheol freezes, his heart rate quickening. He tilts his head, straining to hear again. The sound came from the bedroom. Curiosity and concern propel him forward as he moves cautiously toward the door.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he peeks inside. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the scene before him.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, your legs were spread open in a way that revealed everything.

Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, and you’re arching back, clearly horny. The vibrator, the very same one he had glimpsed in your old apartment—a sight that had piqued his curiosity—was now pressed tightly against your clit.

He could see the pleasure etched across your face, the way you bit your lip and gripped the sheets. He hesitated at the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

The sight is so intimate, so raw, that he feels a blend of emotions—desire, awe, and a sense of protectiveness. His initial impulse is to step in, to be there for you, but he’s also painfully aware of how private this moment is.

His own breath hitches as he wrestles with the decision of whether to interrupt or simply stand back. He knows this is a vulnerable part of you, one that you might not be ready to share with him just yet.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, his desire is real as he steps fully into the room. The bulge in his pants is a constant reminder of just how affected he is by the scene unfolding before him. But he pushes past his own need, focusing on you.

He kneels beside the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might pull you from your reverie. His fingers, though trembling slightly, are gentle as he reaches for the vibrator. He eases it away from your clit, the sudden absence making you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part frustration.

You blink rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you process his presence. Your cheeks flush a deep red. Just as you begin to open your mouth, ready to speak or perhaps to protest, Seungcheol silences you with a touch.

Without a word, he positions the vibrator back against your wetness, the cool touch of it sending you screaming on your bed. Slowly, he guides it back to your clit, applying a steady pressure as he begins to circle it.

His eyes are locked onto your every reaction, absorbing each tremor and gasp as if they were treasures.

The immediate pleasure that jolts through you is overwhelming. You clench his forearm, your grip desperate and needy as you roll your eyes back in pure, unfiltered sensation. The way he controls the vibrator, the way he’s so deliberately attentive to your body—it drives you wild.

The intensity of your arousal triples, the added thrill of Seungcheol’s touch making it feel like every nerve is on fire. You sob, the sound escaping from you as you struggle to stay grounded amidst the stimulation.

Each circle of the vibrator on your clit feels like an eternity, stretching out the sensation to a nearly unbearable edge.

Seungcheol’s gaze never wavers from you. He watches you with an intense focus and tenderness, his own breath coming in uneven puffs as he fights to keep his own desires in check.

He’s controlling your pleasure with an expert touch, making sure that each movement is precise and perfectly tuned to your reactions.

He knows you’re on the brink, and he’s both savoring and prolonging this moment for you.

The control he exerts is deliberate, his movements are carefully calculated to push you to the edge without letting you fall over just yet.

As your body writhes beneath his touch, Seungcheol’s expression softens. He can see how much you need this, how much his presence, his touch, is amplifying everything you’re feeling. It’s a heady blend of power and vulnerability, and he’s completely consumed by it.

As the waves of pleasure begin to crest, you feel your moans transforming into quieter, breathless gasps. Your body tightens, with every muscle pulling taut as you approach the brink of orgasm.

It’s right there, just a heartbeat away, when Seungcheol suddenly pulls the vibrator away. The abrupt absence of its buzzing sends a shock through you, your body jolting as you let out a delayed cry of frustration.

Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. Rather, he sets the vibrator on the bedside table as if it were a routine, doing so with practiced ease.

Then he gets to his feet and strips off his shirt, baring his chest. Your need is heightened by the sight of him, so masterful and totally devoted to you. You watch him, breathless and with wide eyes, while he dismisses your little cries of protest.

He seems determined to show you something more personal than the toy could ever offer, judging by the steady, unwavering look in his eyes.

He says, taking off his belt, “I want to see you cum for me, not for a toy.” “I want to see you cum in my mouth,” he murmurs.

You swear you see your soul leave your body just like in a cartoon,with his words. He spreads your legs wide, putting himself between them. You can almost feel the need in your body quivering with anticipation.

His mouth feels like fire when it first touches your clit; the buzzing vibrator has made you more sensitive. You gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is moist and warm as it hungersily probes every part of you.

You let out a deep moan as he laps at your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your clit.

He sucks gently, then more firmly, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot in a way that has you writhing beneath him. Every nerve ending in the body is hyperaware of intense pleasure.

Your hips are held in place by Seungcheol's hands as he consumes you. You can feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers dig into your skin just enough to anchor you. His eyes glance up at you, watching your reactions, ensuring he’s giving you exactly what you need.

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice shaky. “I’m so close.”

His response is a deep hum against your clit. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking harder. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold on for dear life.

Every muscle in your body tightens, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He doesn’t let up, his focus entirely on you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, your back arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping your lips. Seungcheol continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone.

You take a deep breath, your vision slowly clearing, and catch sight of Seungcheol gripping his cock through his boxers. The outline looks thick and big, making your mouth water at the sight of it.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. His eyes meet yours, dark and round.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice husky.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you press your palm against the bulge in his boxers. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you touch him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you say, your voice gaining strength.

He groans softly, his restraint slipping. He helps you pull his boxers down, his erection springing free. It looks even more impressive without the fabric, flushed, throbbing, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of him. He watches you, his breath hitching as you stroke him slowly.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, looking up at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “And you’re so beautiful.”

You smile. Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on the tip, tasting the salty precum. His reaction is immediate, a shudder running through his body as he groans your name.

Encouraged, you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just holding you gently as you work him with your mouth.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw. His size is a challenge, but you’re determined to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His groans and gasps spur you on, each sound a reward for your efforts.

You bob your head, taking him as deep as you can, your hand stroking the base where you can’t reach. His hips begin to move, a slow, careful thrust that shows how close he is to losing control.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he warns, his voice strained.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continue your movements, letting him know without words that you want this. He curses softly, his grip on your hair tightening just a bit.

One thing he didn’t notice was your sneaky hand grabbing the forgotten vibrator on the bedside table. With a naughty grin, you hold the base of his cock to keep it still, then turn the vibrator on and press it against his length while your mouth sucks on his tip.

Seungcheol lets out a deep grunt, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes closing tightly. “You little—” he curses, his voice strained. Your smirk widens at his reaction, the vibrations traveling through his body, making him shudder.

“Who’s the villain now?” you tease, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

His response is a strangled moan, his hips jerking slightly into your mouth. “You... you’re the villain here,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!”

The combination of your mouth and the vibrator makes his body tense. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, his muscles tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

You increase the intensity, your hand moving the vibrator up and down his length while your mouth continues its assault on his tip. His breathing becomes ragged, and he’s practically panting now, his moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, his voice desperate.

You let go of his tip, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you realize you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine. The vibrator still buzzes in your hand as you reach for his cock, straddling him and slowly sinking down.

The sensation is electric—your drenched, sopping cunt engulfs him almost like a vacuum, drawing a desperate moan from his lips. His eyes flutter shut, and you can tell he’s loving it just as much as you are by the way his face contorts.

When you bottom out, Seungcheol squirms beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. He reaches for your wrist and places the vibrator on your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you clench around his length.

His moan mingles with a teasing smile, his eyes dark with lust. If he wasn’t a villain before, he definitely looks like one now.

You ride his cock in circles, the vibrations on your clit making your body curl inward, your nails digging into his abdomen. The pleasure is overwhelming, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you move faster, chasing the high that’s just within reach.

His grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you move. “That’s it, baby,” he growls “Just like that.”

Seungcheol sneaks a hand to the vibrator and turns it to the highest level. You grunt, throwing your head back as the intense vibrations radiate through your entire body. He can feel them inside you too, the added stimulation making him groan.

“Fuck, Seungcheol!” you cry out, your voice shaking as you jump up and down on his cock. Your pussy meets his length and then his base, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Yeah, take it all, baby,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”

You moan louder, the dirty talk driving you wild. “Tell me more,” you gasp, craving more of his words, the filthier, the better.

He thrusts up into you, his own pleasure building as he watches you ride him. “You love this, don’t you? Being my little slut, taking my cock so well,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his moans.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you reply, your movements becoming more frantic. “I love it, Seungcheol. I love being— Fuck!”

He grins. “You’re so fucking wet for me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

You shiver at his words, your body responding eagerly. “Shit, Seungcheol, you feel so good inside me,” you pant. “I want to cum all over your cock.”

“Do it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love it.”

“I’m gonna cum again, Seungcheol,” you gasp, riding him faster. “I want you to cum with me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing them. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Cum inside me,” you moan, your nails digging into his chest. “Fill me up, Seungcheol.”

He thrusts up hard, matching your frantic pace. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, leaning back to get a better angle, driving him deeper. Your voice breaking with need. “I need it, Seungcheol. I need your cum.”

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him getting close. “You’re gonna get it,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

Seungcheol presses the vibrator harder against your swollen clit, and you convulse on him, your body shaking uncontrollably from the combined sensations.

“Fuck,” he growls, “You’re creaming all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking soaked.”

You moan loudly, barely able to respond as the vibrations and his cock drive you wild. “Yes, Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “I’m so wet for you.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to thrust upward, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. “Hm… The way you’re dripping all over me. I can feel every drop.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you bounce harder, trying to chase the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t stop cumming,” you whimper. “It’s too much.”

Seungcheol’s breathing grows ragged, his gaze fixed on the way your pussy pulses around him. “That’s right. Let go for me. I want to see you lose control. You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

The pressure of the vibrator against your clit makes you cry out. “I’m cumming so hard,” you moan. “I can’t handle it.”

He grunts, his voice deep and raw. “That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock. I love how you’re losing it. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.”

Your eyes roll back. “Seungcheol,” you cry out, your body arching and trembling. “I’m gonna—”

He groans as he feels your inner muscles clench around him, the vibrations making every nerve in your body explode. “Yeah, let it all out,” he commands. “Show me how much you fucking need me.”

You convulse one last time, your vision blurring as the orgasm washes over you. Seungcheol holds you tightly, his cock still buried deep inside you as he continues to grind against your clit, making sure you get every last ounce of pleasure.

Seungcheol wastes no time, flipping you over onto all fours like you're a rag doll. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, your body pliant and obedient to his every move. He quickly turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. His hands find your ass, squeezing and fondling your cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock back inside you, abusing your sweet spot with relentless precision. You feel the sting of your skin meeting his pelvis with each strong thrust.

You bite down on the pillow, muffling your sobs as your body trembles beneath him. The orgasm still pulses through you, but now Seungcheol is fucking you through it with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

His grip tightens on your hips, one foot propped up on the mattress to give him more leverage. The bed creaks under you, the mattress springs creaking.

His moans become whiny and throaty. You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching inside you with every thrust, and the sight of the white ring around his shaft driving him feral.

Summoning strength you didn't know you had, you lift your head and glance over your shoulder. You need to see his 'bad boy' posture crumble.

Seungcheol's face is a picture of raw emotion, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His expression is utterly shattered, as if he's about to break down and cry like a boy.

The sight of him like this, so helpless and undone, makes you squeeze harder around him. The reaction is immediate—Seungcheol's eyes roll back, and his hips slam into yours, grinding deep as he reaches he orgasms.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He groans as he cums harder than ever before, his hips twitching with each spurt. The room is loaded with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together.

He stays buried inside you for a moment, savoring the sensation of your bodies connected, his cum still dripping from where he's filled you to the brim.

Seungcheol sleeps soundly, like a baby, his face peaceful and unburdened. In that moment, it doesn't matter who he is or where he is; his mind is completely consumed by thoughts of you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being your synchronized breaths. Exhausted and spent, you don't even have the strength to clean up. You sleep without a care, even as his cum slowly drips down your thighs.

[...]

Morning breaks gently, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Seungcheol stirs, his senses gradually returning to him. But something feels off. He blinks his eyes open, expecting to see you lying beside him. Instead, he’s met with a sight that jolts him fully awake.

You’re floating.

Your body is hovering a few inches above the bed, suspended in mid-air. Your eyes are wide with shock, mirroring his own as you both take in the surreal scene.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, your voice tinged with panic. “Lower me down.”

He scrambles out of bed, his mind racing to process what he’s seeing. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his hands gently guiding you back down to the bed. The moment your body touches the mattress, the floating sensation ceases, leaving you both staring at each other in stunned silence.

You sit up slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you brush your hair back. “Wasn’t the injection supposed to last only for a few hours?” you ask.

Seungcheol, still healing from the sight of you floating, nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what they said. But…maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it’s affected you in ways we didn’t expect.”

“So, does this mean you can fuck me while I'm floating in mid-air?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He laughs, a surprised sound escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly caught off guard by your audacity.

3K notes · View notes

rubyarerosies · 9 months ago

Note

what would lowkeyartist!sukuna do and react if his wife and kids identity was revealed🤨

for dramatics, i feel like the way his family’s identity is revealed is most likely from an inside source. His hair stylist, probably new to his team wouldn’t do it intentionally, he’s probably taking a video and in the background is clear view of you and Sukuna entertaining your son. And so the video spreads and everyone starts to investigate.

Sukuna would most likely not hear about it until you come back from picking up your son from daycare with Toji.

“What happened? Why’re you crying?” you’re huffing, hair is frizzled than how it normally looks, and the gloss over your eyes concern him immensely. He takes your son into his arms, the little boy not knowing about the turmoil his mother is facing while he sleeps. You’re happy he was, because then he wouldn’t be so scared of the crowd that seemed to surround him half and hour ago.

“Your little fan base knows about them now,” Toji spoke up, walking through the door with your sons bag and car seat (you left your car at the daycare, calling Toji to come pick you up so that the fans don’t stalk your car all the way home. Toji most definitely took a different route to your house than usual)

Sukuna stares confused, his hold on his son faltering a little bit, Toji continues, “they were at his daycare, it was a big crowd, Ryomen,”

“Fuck,” he whispers, his arm coming around your shoulder so he could pull you into a soft embrace, he kisses apologies into your hairline, saying he’ll fix this, “go wash up, I’ll go see what I can do,”

The next day he goes live and everyone notices how disappointed, angry, and upset he looks. He’s not in his studio, but a room at his agency. It’s a rough, 15-25 minute video - he’s already planned out what he’s going to say by the help of Toji and his media team (Toji insisted he needed to be professional about this or else it wouldn’t be taken seriously or well - despite his lack of care for how offended the media would be, a voice in his mind reminded him of his family back home)

He thanks everyone for supporting him so far and for giving him the content life he has now, but he firmly admits that he doesn’t like mixing up the two together. “my private life is to not be shown carelessly online, my family is to stay offline,”

He over goes the incident that happened at the day care and affirms that he will be taking legal action against accounts, websites etc that post those videos or photos - “my wife and son are normal people too, I expect everyone to treat them as such or else me and my team will take legal action,”

“I hope you all come understand why I’ve come off offensive right now, my family is very important to me and I’m not afraid to drop this career for them.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #lowkeyartist!sukuna #sukuna ryomen

1K notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 6 months ago

Note

Shy virgin reader starts off so innocent but ends up not after this feral man 👇

Abso-fucking-lutely! There is not a man more feral than Billy in my opinion. I also got a little carried away with this so I hope that's okay!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) spanking

There's nothing but awkward tension between you and Billy as the two of you sit on the edge of his bed. His thumb is rubbing circles along your knee as he tries his best to comfort you. He's the kind who usually gets right to it and if the girl he's hooking up with protests to anything, he just kicks them out without a second thought. With you, though? You're different.

He's taken more virginities than he can count and he wasn't gentle nor did he ease them into it like he probably should have, but with you, he wants to be the sweet and gentle guy you believe him to be. And he hates that. He hates how you softened him as it's really ruined his reputation and now people are starting to think that he's approachable when he spent his entire life building up this wall that you were able to tear down in only a matter of weeks. Well, he should be mad, but he's not. He could never be mad at you.

You turn towards him, taking a deep breath before wrapping your arms around his neck. You're wearing that smile that never fails to make him melt and his heart is starting to feel like a blanket that's warm from the dryer. You brush some hair away from his face and lean in for a kiss. This is everything Billy is against. He hates kissing and foreplay. He likes to go hard and that it.

But your lips are always so warm, like two soft pillows. And they taste like that lip gloss he sees you putting on every time you get into his car. He's so into kissing you that he thinks he might actually let you make out before he gets to business.

"C'mere," he says against your lips, patting his lap and you're quick to obey, straddling his waist and he can't help but think about how pretty you look on top of him. Maybe after a few times, he'll actually let you top him, which you should consider a treat because Billy would normally rather drop dead than be a bottom.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He's already asked this question multiple times, but he just wants to be certain. Even though he's never seen it that way, he knows this is a big step for you, and for once, he doesn't think he's worthy.

"I'm sure," you respond as you press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet just like you. You kiss him again and his brain short circuits just like always. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as you deepen the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth.

You both moan at the sensation of your tongues swirling around each other and Billy gets a little adventurous as his hands slide up your shirt, his rough hands resting against your bare back. He's so not used to this, but he can't say he hates it. He actually likes taking his time to enjoy what he's doing instead of pushing you onto the bed and going hard until you come then kick you out as soon as your orgasm.

After you finish, he thinks he'll invite you to stay and pull you into his arms before the two of you fall asleep. He wants to wake up next to you and have you stay for breakfast where the two of you will make conversation over Susan's famous pancakes before he walks you to your car where you'll share a sweet car before he sees you off.

God, when did he turn into a fucking pussy and when did he start liking it? Before you came around, he made fun of guys who behaved the way he currently is. He's never been a relationship guy so why does he kind of want to be your boyfriend?

"Can I take this off?" He asks and you nod.

"Use your words, doll."

"Yes." He slips your shirt over your head and tosses it to the side as he takes in your lacy black bra. Oh, so you came prepared. "D-do you like it?" You ask, leaning back just a bit so he can see the full bra.

"Fuck," is all he's able to respond. "Beautiful, doll."

"Good," you smile. "Because I bought it for you." His eyes bug out at your confession and you're sure that this is the first time you've ever shocked Billy.

"You did not." No one's ever bought lingerie for him so he has to admit that it's thrown him off. But he's more than honored that you did so even though he doesn't think he deserves it.

"I did," you nod as you bring your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly feeling nervous by your confession.

"Well, you look hot. But you know where this would look even better?"

"Where?" You ask even though you already know what he's going to say. His hands slide up to the clasp of the bra as he leans in, his lips right in front of your ear.

"The floor," he says, bringing his voice down just slightly, but it's enough to drive you crazy. He then nips your earlobe which causes you to gasp then pulls away as he unhooks your bra. He then pulls it away from your body, tossing it towards wherever your shirt landed.

So you won't feel alone, he takes off his own shirt, his abs on display that you can't take your eyes off of. You're both ogling each other and for whatever reason, you don't feel as shy as you thought you would have. You trust Billy and know that he'll treat you like you deserve.

"You're-fuck-you're gorgeous," he sighs as he stares at your tits before pulling you closer so that you're chest to chest.

"So are you." His cheeks burn at the compliment as you think it's cute that you're able to make him blush.

"Are you ready?" He asks as his mossy eyes bore into yours with that sweet look he never gives anyone else.

"Yes," you nod and Billy slowly turns you over, gently lying you onto the bed as if you're some fragile thing he's so scared of breaking. "Just gonna kiss you for now, okay?" You nod even though you're super eager to just get right to it.

He lowers himself down on top of you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips move together and all Billy can think about is how he could just do this all night and be satisfied. His hands find yours and he intertwines your fingers as he kisses his way down to your neck.

He peppers the spot with kisses, slowly introducing his tongue, warming you up for the hickey he's going to give you. He's given you a few during make out sessions but never like this as this is already more intimate with the two of you being topless.

He then starts to suck and that's a feeling that you're still not quiet used to, but it just feels so good that you don't dare tell him to stop. You whine in response to the sensation and swear you feel Billy's dick twitch against you.

He's licking and sucking and you wonder how someone can be so talented with just their mouth. How he's able make you feel like mush with just his lips and tongue. But then he bites down and that undoes you. You moan loudly, feeling yourself progressively getting wetter between your legs with each bite.

His hands let go of yours and slip between your bodies before he starts to unbutton your jeans. He looks up at you as he slowly slides them down your body, looking for any signs of hesitance. Once they're off, he goes for your panties, and those are off a little quicker. They fly across the room and he gets himself undressed, his cock and his giant bush on full display.

It's big, of course it is. You've heard all of the girls he's slept with talk about it. You would just nod along and not quite believe them because you never actually thought it'd be inside you. But now that you're actually seeing it, you're positive that they weren't lying.

Billy grabs hold of your thighs and spreads them wide so he can get a good look at what he's working with. As soon as he gets a glimpse of your sopping wet pussy, he gets the urge to comment on it like he does to all of his hook ups, but he says nothing because he wants to be respectful.

He spreads them just a little wider as lines himself up with you, but he doesn't get inside just yet. He feels like he needs to be honest with you first.

"I-I just realized that I don't have any condoms," he says, an apologetic look on his face as he breaks the news to you. "I don't usually use them because I've got a big cock and they're-"

"Hey," you cut him as you sit up, taking his hands in yours. "It's okay. I'm on birth control and you can just pull out, right?"

"Right," he laughs, feeling silly for freaking out. You press a kiss to his knuckles before lying back, spreading your legs again. Billy grabs hold of your hips as he slides in slowly, wincing when you do because he can only imagine just how badly it hurts.

This is probably some of the worst pain you've ever been in, and he's only got the tip in, but god does it feel good. He starts off slow, thrusting in and out at a glacial and you're moaning at every push, un able to keep your responses to yourself.

You appreciate how gentle he's being with you, but you can't help but what more. You want the hot, rough sex you always hear the girls bragging about. You want him to fuck you so hard you're forced to stay in bed for a few days.

You buck your hips against, trying to make him get the hint and it seems to go right over his head to you have to resort to other measures. You grab hold of his hips and buck yours against them while using his to show him exactly you want.

"Are-are you sure?" He asks, wondering where his innocent girl went.

"Positive. Fuck me like an animal." Your eyes are growing dark and Billy can see that you actually mean it. You're not just saying it just because you know that's what he likes.

So his grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging into your skin as he goes a little harder, but not hard enough apparently because he feels a hard slap on his ass. His eyes snap up to you and you seem angry, still bucking your hips against his, still trying to show him what you want from him.

"Fine, you want animal, doll? I'll give you animal. But don't act like you didn't ask for it." He pounds into you and you gasp at the feeling as he slides even more of his cock inside you, going deeper with every thrust.

You're coming undone progressively by the second, your brain now complete mush as Billy continues to give you what you want. He's moving so fast now that all you can hear is the skin slapping against skin as the two of you switch off moaning.

Billy has to admit that this is the first time he's actually ever care about making a girl come and as you lie beneath him, moaning, and whining and bucking your hips against his, he can't help but feel a sense of pride at how good he's making you feel.

If he's being honest, he usually drowns out the sounds, so focused on how he's feeling and only zoning back in when he hears the big one so he knows when to pull out. Yours though, yours are hot and he's sure that they'll stick in his head even after tonight.

It's coming, he can feel it. After he started going hard, he knew you weren't going to last very long. You have lasted longer than he initially thought. But now you're slurring so he think it's almost time to call it quits.

"Come on, one more, alright? Gotta get you there, doll. I mean, looking at how good you're taking me." He gives a couple more thrusts and watches you orgasm beneath him, counting down the seconds until he can make you do it again because, fuck was that hot.

He then pulls out and instead of kicking you out, he loans you one of his shirt and the two of you get into his bed before he pulls you to his chest, lighting up a cigarette as his pretty girl sleeps.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x virgin!reader

837 notes · View notes

sei-rq · 28 days ago

Note

about that latest oneshot you wrote... how do you think rin will react when he found out that his best friend and his big bro is now a thing? will he actually start crashing out or will he just go "wow you're stupid for falling for my brother"

pt.1

best friend, itoshi rin has noticed some changes in your behaviour as of late, normally he'd just assume it's because of a new show/series/character that you're choosing to obsess over.

but no, this is different, you've been distant, more secretive, less talkative, always looking at your phone, grabbing it the second it beeps with a notification, smiling at your phone more often, and rin— rin is not okay, at all.

because as much as he would never admit it out loud, he misses you, this is so sappy because you're right here, next to him, but at the same time you're not.

he misses your constant chatter about what you did for the day, the constant 'ding' in his pocket coming from his phone due to your daily messages, he misses the occasional late night calls when he's too pent up from soccer to fall asleep, or when you're too stressed about an exam that's due the next day, listening to your whining about how you're sure you'll not make it this time around.

but you always do, because rin is here.

he wouldn't let you slip away, not when he's around.

so, why was he feeling off about all this, you've been closer to him ever since you first came to his house, you come over more often now, the routine goes like this:

dinner, rin dragging you to watch movies, some video games, random talking until he ends up falling asleep and you're gone by the time he wakes up in the morning.

something is off.

and then he starts to have his suspicions, sae has been acting strange, far stranger than you. it's weird because ever since his brother came back from spain, they haven't spoken much.

but everything feels different.

he notices instantly.

ever since sae started to put more effort in his looks, his clothes, he's wearing his hair down more often, he's always in a good mood not that his face says anything different, it's just— he looks happy.

and rin? he'd be glad, because sae has been treating him like he used to, slowly but surely they're going back to their old ways, starting with those popsicles they used to get when they were kids.

this time, rin's luck doesn't play by his side.

you lose.

he looks down at the stick in his hand and then towards his brother, who takes the finished popsicle out his mouth to see the text engraved on the stick.

...

you win.

rin expects sae to scoff at the stupid thing and say how something so insignificant can't judge his luck like he used to do.

but no.

it's there, so, so, so fucking faint, but it's there— a smile on his lips.

"i'm going to put this away, be right back." the older itoshi says as he gets off the couch, leaving rin with his thoughts.

just what has gotten into the people around him?

his question answers itself, when he hears a 'ding' next to him, he grabs it thinking it's his phone, probably something from you, he doesn't have notifications on for people other than his family and you.

it's not his phone.

but he can't be bothered to care because—

you [11:47pm]:

hey, come over today? i got your favourite chocolate and i have practice in a few days so i'll probably be busier, i need my fill of someone stupid til then.

cariño [12:29 pm]:

hii

i think i can!!

i'll ask rinnie if he can hangout tonight then >:D

also bribing me with chocolate isn't fair <\\3

you [12:36 pm]:

i simply made a request with no ulterior motives.

spoiling my partner is seen as a crime these days?? how bad has society gotten.

cariño [12:40 pm]:

suree, keep telling yourself that..!

see you tonight, I love you <33

...

he shuts the phone off as soon as he hears sae's footsteps coming back to the room.

and before he knows it, he's back in his room, the door locked and his ears hot and ringing. he grabs a pillow off his bed, tossing it to the picture he has of him and sae on his desk, which is childish but rin's vision is blurry and his eyes feel hot.

it's not fair, not fair, not fucking fair.

his chest hurts, physically hurts. it feels awful and he feels nauseous and his head is ringing loudly.

why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why?—

he knows, it's you. not that the stupid nickname sae has saved you as gives it away, that's far from it. it's not even the profile picture, you under soft white sheets where only the upper part of your face is apparent, eyes closed as though it's the safest place on earth, with not a care about anything else but your slumber. and the worst part is, he recognises the background, the bed, the sheets.

and it's not even the familiar texting style. it's the pet name that you've insisted on calling him since you've been friends. rinnie, the name he hates so much but doesn't comment on because he likes hearing you say his name. he recognises you instantly.

why the fuck does itoshi sae get everything? does he not have enough of his own things? why is he stealing away the one thing rin had kept to himself, the one thing rin had allowed himself to be selfish over. it's not fucking fair— why his best friend?

he was planning on taking it slow, he thought he had finally found someone that understood him, someone that he could trust with ease and he doesn't do feelings, but he was willing to try, so why?

why now? when he has realised his own feelings? when he was planning on asking you out? right after he finished with blue lock and the u20 match, when he was waiting for the perfect day to finally have you? to make you his?

and if it isn't already enough, his phone buzzes on his desk.

and the universe mocks his existence.

stupid owl [12:40 pm]:

rinnieee.

can I come overrr :000

stupid owl [12:47 pm]:

rinrin?

rinniepoo

loml, star of my eyes rinrin !!

we can even watch that new thriller that came out recently !?

stupid owl [12: 55 pm]:

rin? you good? you're not even 'seen' zoning me like you normally do, woah! :((

...

okay, if itoshi sae wants to play like that, so fucking be it. rin isn't a kid anymore, he can be mature about this— and by mature he means..

you [1:00 pm]:

sure.

why don't you stay the night?

#bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk smut #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi brothers #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin fluff #bllk itoshi rin #bllk

407 notes · View notes

kuntprodukt · 3 months ago

Text

PAREIDOLIA

Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, NON CONSENSUAL SEX, INCEST, SOMNOPHILIA, SMUT, non consensual somnophilia, father-daughter incest, deadbeat dad, female reader, he is pervy, obsession, implied alcoholism, blowjob, masturbation, use of daddy, creampie, underwear theft, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping.

Summary: your dad didn't teach you how to protect yourself nor he showed himself in your most important parts of life - until recently, and your mum told you to be gentle with your dad, too bad he didn't get the same memo with his kid

notes: released it from the jail finally!!!had this wip and idea since september or october, but got stuck until recently and yea.... i rewrote everything I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 BIG thanks to @rigorwhoring for talking about dad leon with me and proofreading it, and @writingwisterias!!! uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of interractions are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

“Your dad is a man with a hard life, be gentle.” Your mom’s voice resonates in your ears, even though she is far away from you, her familiar shake of the head and curled up brows flash in your mind. Too sweet, too nice, agonizingly when the topic is that man. You didn’t inherit this - you don’t know your dad, you’ve seen him only in photo albums, secretly hoping you don’t look like him.

It was amazing without him, really. You never felt the lack of dad. Good luck can’t last forever, cause the closest college was next to him. Perhaps, for once in his life, he decided to take responsibility.

So the house stands tall and in all its pride, looming over you as for the first time in your life a long time you feel like a little child again. The same feelings of those apartment buildings your eyes would study until the feeling that they will fall on you and the primal fear would force you to run away like a scared doe. This time is different.

Now standing in front of his door feels heavy, thoughts fill your brain anxiously - that’s the last thing you expect from yourself. Standing there and staring at it feels surreal, every passing second the door moves further from you. Blink. A normal door, it is in its place, nothing changed. Stress makes one mad. With a heavy sigh, your knuckles hit lightly the front door. Knock-knock. Silence, a little bit of rambling behind the door. Is he at home even? Or will he ignore you like always? You don’t care about this man, don’t change your mind. You are not a pussy. And this isn’t a meeting with the president.

This should be easy.

“Sorry, sweetheart..” A low and raspy voice comes out before the door opens. Your dad is in front of you. A look of hope and recognition flashes in his eyes before they get fogged by disappointment. What was that? Leon sighs, rubbing his eyes. “…did the road treat you well?”

“It was fine” you brush it off quickly, while your eyes are occupied on his face. That’s maybe your first time seeing him in flesh and blood. He looks good, but also like shit… light stubble across his cheeks, darkish spots under his eyes giving him an even more tired look. Messy dark brown hair, did he just wake up? He looks miserable. In photos he had much lighter hair, did he dye his hair when he was younger? Or blonde people just became darker with age. Unlucky for them.

Both don’t know how to act.

“Don’t stand like a statue, come on” His hand reaches for luggage, sighing again like it is heavy underpaid work on a construction site.

Tiredness washes over you after stepping inside. It looks okay here. Dusty, old, and empty bottles of cheap bourbon, no wonder he looks like shit, it is probably his first dry day since forever. A quick glance around, you didn’t catch many details, photos on shelves most of them were taken a long time ago - a photo of him and your mom, then another shelf with a girl with a red jacket and a big bear-looking man. Huge biceps. And your dad is in the middle.

“Did your mama tell you something about me?” His next question sets in the air as soon as the door closes with a click behind you. Luggage was already settled on the floor with a soft thump while you were busy studying the unmarried man’s dwelling.

Your mom. She is a good woman, with her own cons and pros - at the end of the day, she always tried to be a decent human being and you close your eyes on many things you didn’t comprehend. It is hard to raise a child alone in this economy. Still, dad as a word was empty - she never told you about him other than a simple “you have a dad”, “it is his birthday, don’t forget to call him.”. Nor he was a knight in shining armor tale-like, it was an empty word. And Daddy’s Girl or Princess is a mythological title, one you would see in movies.

“I don’t think so?” Why would she? You knew about his existence which is enough and your mom always tried to force him to interact with you. It didn’t turn out well - he’d always ignored your calls or messages. Even birthday texts.

It is awkward. His face is tensed; his eyes run away from yours, as his hand scrapes the stubble nervously - not pleased with the consequences of his own decision.

“Now… we have all the time to get to know each other” Leon speaks up again and you want to go to your room. He tries hard to pull out a memory related to you. Really. His fingers ran through his hair. “I was so busy these years” Yeah, crawling back to mom. “I remember we talked in a call, you were a cute kid, smart too”

“I don’t remember that” or like that. There is no memory other than one. And he still got it wrong. A call on your mom’s laptop which you accepted just to see his confused expression on the screen. There were no questions about your life, no greeting, just a simple one, you’d ask a stranger - “Where is your mom? Can you call her?”

“Cause you were a child, believe me,” Leon pauses. Trying to find another believable excuse. “Your old man isn’t going to mess up with you, dads are a girl’s first best friend”

“Sure…“ What a nonsense.

“Don’t be so vindictive” Leon tries to brush it off further. It isn’t hard to catch on to your clear hostility - the perks of his job.

“I am not” You shake your head. “…Just tired”

He wants to strangle you. No one likes a woman who talks too much or talks back to men. Even worse when somehow your tone and presence hint at his absence, - it is conscience talking. No man likes to be pointed to his own shit.

Leon silently watches you move to the stairs, dragging luggage behind you. An intrusive urge to keep the conversation going, to keep you here with him.

“You look so much like your mom, you know that?” His eyes travel from your face to your body. You stand there on the staircase, now higher than him, and look down. Like a judge silently deciding his fate. Leon clears his throat, his palm rubs his stubble again. “Your room is the first one to the right”

“…thank you”

For a moment, your stomach swirls uncomfortably at his blue eyes - they are sweet and warm, there is no hint of malice. At least you can’t catch it. But there is a hint of something else. Turbulent, like violent waves crashing against the rocks of the pier. And something raw. The latter you have seen that look in weird, creepy men in the bar - urging their hands on you or your friends.

To think of, you don’t know why he has a spare room in his house nor you are going to ask to not hear the answer you don’t want to swallow as a hard pill. It looks fine, better than you’ve expected. There are no posters or unique decorations - the same room you’d find in every hotel; too clean with every basic item and absence of constant living. You can fix it, unlike a hotel room.

——

It has been two months already, college keeps you busy and buried in your room, giving you more accessible excuses to avoid your dad. When he is at home, which isn’t a lot thankfully. The house is tremendously empty, even though the traces of him being here are visible, the feeling of loneliness is pressing on your brain every second of your little breaks. Nor is his presence calming, still, it soothes the void in your chest. Maybe you just miss back home, nostalgia makes the memories of the Sun warmer on your skin, ice cream tastier, and life easier.

Your panties have been disappearing. An unnatural amount, you’d be sure the place is haunted by a perverted ghost. Fortunately, you weren’t aware Leon was at fault. Nor did you try to ask him, maybe your dad appeared creepy and icky, but he wouldn’t steal your underwear, right? Most of his time he is out there working(or drinking in bars) or emptying one shot after another. And he can’t help himself, after all, you look like your mom, same face, the identical curve of your waist, and the same glimpse in your eyes.

“My ex-wife was struck by lightning, now she is my wife.“ Even your micro-expressions - your eye roll every time he jokes.

“No, she isn’t” No laughing, nothing. Your mom didn’t like his jokes either, the same tasteless bitch.

His genes didn’t fight back, perhaps one of the reasons Leon never cared for you until now. Like a cat after giving birth rejecting one of the kittens for an unexplainable reason. Instincts are wiser. He isn’t a mother, but he is a dad so this is applicable to him too, right? Of course, not because he was much busier to crawl back to your mom just to end up rejected for the thousandth time.

Your underwear is his guilty pleasure. Leon can’t help himself, he is long gone already. His attention easily glues to your underwear in his grip, free hand of habit frees his hard cock - it bobs up towards his hip and twitches in the air with already formed beads of pre-cum on his aching red tip - begging for any kind of attention. Your lips would be nice, the image of your lips around him, tracing the shape of the most prominent vein on his cock. Leon groans, leaning back against the back of the couch, the fabric of your underwear is so nice to feel pressed against his cock. O, to cum on your face - to see your pretty features to be tainted with his cum. His fist cups it in tighter, slowly pumping his cock and watching more pre-cum spill from the slit - staining your underwear, mixing with your scent. Another visual of you in his mind - your puffy folds in front of him, glistening with your slick, how his cock would press nicely in between your pussy lips, parting them and smearing your slick across his flesh. His cock twitches in his hand, quickening the pace and rubbing harder the soft fabric of your underwear.

There is a light, brief hint of clarity in his brain, whispering - Daughter! Your daughter! But it ends up being an encouragement to groan and stroking himself faster across his hardened cock until he finally gets his high. His cum spills over his knuckles and your underwear - he keeps stroking himself through his orgasm to hold on to this. Wet, dirty noises mix with his heavy breathing once he gets overwhelmed and too soft to keep it going.

At this point, this isn’t about your mom, but you. He doesn’t think about her anymore. His last chance to get what he had in his youth is you.

The obsession rooted deep in his body started to become heavier, every time you were doing your own business he wondered if your tits are the same as hers or even better. Does your pussy taste like her? Or better? Identical in appearance, the same would be applied to sex too, right? God, when his hands get on you, it would be so easy to play with you - the pressure on your spongy spot, to feel the familiar weight of your tits in his palm. He never met you until recently, but he knows your body to a T. He’d bet his teeth on that. You brought the smell of her back with the memories and he must not lose his last chance.

Maybe alcohol is doing its own deed, pushing even more inappropriate thoughts into his head - a good excuse for himself, there is no way he will admit to being on the bad side, too much happened in his life that ponders on him since he was 21 years old. Tonight Leon is brave, braver than he has ever been now that he is going to do something more than steal your underwear to jerk off on them. He’d make out with a bottle of alcohol as a gratitude.

Your entire presence here is like a gift after many years of enduring his job and rejections from your mom. You are a miracle, divine or not he hasn’t decided yet. You never lock your room, easier for your dad to get what he wants. And the night is young.

The mattress beneath you dips softly with added weight, in the dark room the outlines of your figure are still visible. You look peaceful, calm, and unaware of his presence. Of his intentions. and the edge of your shirt is riding up and shamelessly exposes the flesh of your stomach - what a tease you are and you don’t even realize it. Your unconscious body, deep in the sleep, and he probably has all night to enjoy you. This heightens his arousal, not daring to touch you for a solid minute - not believing this is real, this may be a divine gift at this point. Still need to decide on that. Blood buzzes in his ears; adrenaline, excitement, and alcohol pump his blood faster, for a moment afraid you may wake up without even having the taste of fucking you. Or he is going to have a stroke. Both scenarios aren’t optimal.

Already hard, not the hardest he has ever been - you should cut him some slack, alcohol isn’t the best friend with the boner and he is too excited. He grips his cock, slowly dragging his fist across his half-hard cock as his eyes are focused on your unconscious face. Your lips are parted slightly, a glimpse of your teeth and he can’t help himself again. Shifting closer to your face, guiding his cock to your mouth. The soft and plush skin of your lower lip connects with his tip. No need to rush, Leon, she is here, for you.

And what if she wakes up? A little bit of kitty scratches and weak slaps wouldn’t hurt. Actually, sounds even better; little bruises or scratches from you would work like an encouragement for him - in case, Leon can easily overpower you, anyway.

Slowly tracing the form of your lip with his tip, teasing himself for what is going to come. It has been years since he had a woman similar to her, they always lacked something. You are ideal. Whole. It is enough to slowly harden his cock, pre-cum bead forms on the slit just to smear it across your plush lip.

“Open up, let your dad have his fun” Finally. He nudges his cock in, slowly and watches your mouth easily open up as the tip disappears and gets enveloped with the wetness of your warm mouth.

And Leon gasps.

This is better than any pussy he had in years, maybe the lack of action comes back to haunt him - but he doesn’t care, his cock hardens in your mouth. It presses down on your tongue as he guides his hips back and forth slowly - the tip rubs on the soft surface of your wet heat. Not too rough or quick, in case you’d wake up so soon, he’d prefer that with his dick buried in your cunt. And to cum before he feels your cunt would be a sin. Your mouth hangs open, saliva hoards in the corner of it - you look like a perfect doll for him. Pulling his hard and wet cock out of your mouth, a string connects with your lips - like something he’d find in porn sites with dirty titles.

Deadbeat dad fucks his unconscious whore daughter - this would have been the title for the hypothetical porn video. And he gets even more excited.

Roughly pulling higher the fabric of your shirt, he needs to see your tits. To feel them in his palm. And they are perfect, he is memorized by the sight of your nipples stiffening up as the chillier air makes contact with them. His palm holds your breast, it fills so well - god, fuck, your tits were made for him, so perfectly sit in his hand and soft. A squeeze and they are softer than before. Softest even. Your skin is like the most expensive silk under his fingers, addicting to touch - your chest would cure his insomnia. This is something he’d expect to find in after death. Instead, he is alive and well. Miracle, alright.

“Your tits are perfect, better than I’ve imagined” Leon whispers, not flickering away from your chest.

His thumb and index fingers focus on your nipple now, in between their tips he applies more pressure. Soft, tender too. Your expression tenses, light twitches in your mouth, and how your eyebrows come together is so cute - he doesn’t even know what to stare at.

“What you like…” A light flick with his fingers on your nipple - your lips tense “This feels good, yeah?” This time his fingers twist - your lips part with a weak moan. “So good for me, for daddy” A pinch - another docile whimper, needy. For him. And his dick is painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and twitches in the air. Clearly unhappy with the neglect.

Leon isn’t in the mood to undress you - he is drunk and hard to the point his conscience doesn’t care what’s good or wrong, it whispers to him sweetly: get what you deserve, Leon, this is your gift after enduring everyone’s shit. The shit that woman’s pulled too.

“Let me see you” He positions in between your legs, fingers easily pulling aside the fabric of your shorts and underwear - exposing your pussy to his gaze.

God, fucking god, he will be damned and not to be memorized would be a sin. It isn’t wet as he expected it to be, but still, the strings of slick cling to your folds and lips, glistening like a silent spell lures him to finally fuck you. To bury his cock inside you. He adjusts his position, his cock is twitching and so close to your slick warmth.

With his hand, he guides his cock to part your pussy lips, grinding against the heat of your cunt. Its tip against your slicked folds, bumping against your clit, and watching your body flick with weak moans. The friction makes you gush even more with slick. His precum mixes with your arousal, it spreads easily on his veiny and hard cock. Would work perfectly as a lube. His free hand grips your hip tightly, angling it to finally guide his cock into your neglected hole.

His tip slowly disappears inside your slick folds, hitting his body with a rush of addicting pleasure - your walls stretch around his cock slowly, gripping every prominent vein and adjusting to the slight curve of his cock. Warm heat envelops him almost in a vice-like hold, forcing a low groan out of his throat. Your hips buck into him, sinking his cock deeper into you with a weak moan escaping - even in a badly lightened room his eyes can catch on the changes in your expressions; slightly tensed eyebrows, tongue flicks out for a moment and your fingers grip the fabric of the mattress. Your pussy engulfs him in so addictingly warm, your walls clench ridiculously tight around his cock.

The room feels with his heavy breathing, nibbling on his lower lip, and for a moment, Leon was not sure he would have been able to last long enough for him. Your pussy makes him dizzy, so much that he needed to take a pause, pulling his cock out - not entirely, leaving his tip inside you.

It is addicting to watch your hole stretching around his tip, a sight that will make him even drunker than he is right now. Popping it in and out, over and over until all he can hear are wet and filthy noises - and your moans mixed with his heavy breathing, as more slick gushes - another push, his cock sinks into you deeper and so easily. Wet teasing moment didn’t last long, already drowning in the selfish urge to fuck you. And cum. Inside you, probably. His cock twitches inside you at the thought. Maybe he will.

Slowly starting to roll his hips back and forth, which becomes deep and slow thrusts briefly. Easily losing himself in your body, his hand reaches to knead your breast, as his cock hits its tip against your cervix. His hips rock into you in quick thrusts, heavily breathing and not being able to look away from your face, every little pout or more prominent lines in between your brows, weak and breathless moans as he is fucking you - and you aren’t even aware. God, the images of you waking up and begging to stop fill his mind in a suffocating manner - that’s why he didn’t even try to drug you. Risk is too much fun to deny. His cock throbs inside you, another slam of hips. A hard gulp. A pinch on your nipple before his hand creeps up to rest on your neck before it returns to your hip.

Your skin is too perfect for him, the best silk, he’d die to have you under his hands forever.

The smell of whiskey. Cheap almost, acidic, and lures you out of your sleep. There is something else, the bed doesn’t feel firm anymore. Like sleep paralysis, an oppressive weight sits heavy on your chest and with you. Just this time, you can move and open your eyes, grogginess weighed on them before seeing your dad above you.

Like a punch in your solar plexus. Hard to breathe, too weak to do something other than try to worm out pathetically.

“G-get fucking off—!”

“I am getting off, don’t worry” Leon grunts above you, almost laughing - the dimly lightened room hides a condescending smirk on his face. Your fingers dig into his biceps, your nail will leave half-moon marks on his skin - he’d jerk off by watching them in the mirror, a good reminder of your pussy.

You won’t worm out, even a light grip on your hip is enough to hold you down.

His cock is buried deep inside you, filling your pussy to the point it feels like you lack the air. His hips meet flat against your ass after every thrust.

“Are you going to be good?“ Leon presses harder, his cock hits your G-spot, and your back arches into his hips. He wants to hear you call him daddy, really-really. You never called him dad either, which isn’t bad cause he’d probably get a boner anyway.

“Call me right, for once?” his hand squeezes your cheeks briefly to watch your lips purse out. “and not by my name”

“Asshole”

“Noo, sweetheart, that’s not it.” Leon clicks with his tongue, a slap lands on your cheek and it burns. So fucking bad. “Don’t act smart while you are just dumb bitch”

Your mind gets blank as his thrusts hit the spongy spot inside you. Your nails dig into his skin harder, this time not fighting - to grip yourself harder on him. Being gentle, maybe you should, to give what he wants.

“Fuck…” You can feel every vein on his cock, dragging inside you “Da-…daddy”

God knows he was about to cum after you called him daddy. Not sure how he didn’t fill your pussy with his load, there should be some kind of reward for that. Keeping the pace quick and his balls start to tighten in no time. He can’t keep this going forever.

“Are you going to take it? Like a good girl,” He grunts, his head falls on the crook of your neck, his lips so close to the skin - you can feel how heavy his breathing is. “Make daddy proud..”

And something isn’t right. Oh fuck. Surely he used a condom, right? Fuck, no. His hips rut against you roughly slowly becoming messier, your back arches in a perfect curve into him like you are asking for this.

“You can’t cum inside” It hits you harder, but the next protest is just choked panic. “—…no, fuck, no, no”

“Forgot you to ask” Another slap and you can only pray bruises won’t appear on your skin in the morning. Eye contact returns. “Beg”

You don’t really have the choice to protest, right? You can’t see in the dark the lamp or something else to hit him. Nor do you have the mental capacity to focus on something else than his cock rutting into you in a such right, but the wrong, filthy way. Your body loves this, gushing on his cock like a dumb whore - you? You hate this, at least that’s something you tell yourself.

“Please, Leo—…”You pause, almost let it slip. Oops, quickly fix this up! No matter how much you hate the name. “…daddy, please, not inside”

Leon hums hoarsely. You can see how he enjoys this, containing in the loud groan that wants to come out. Weird to see how much he is into this daddy thing. The hand he slapped you comes lower, fingers brush at your clit before finally applying pressure on it. Quick circle motion with the pads his fingers, rubbing the sensitive nub, and your body adores this, bucking into his fingers even harder - and deepening the penetration.

You were nice enough and he’d die to see your expression as you cum on his cock.

His pace quickens and his fingers try to keep up too before they slowly retreat to grip your face - eye contact is the way. He isn’t going to lose the opportunity. Your body dips heavier into the mattress as it becomes more ruthless and messier than before. All he can hear right now is the flesh-hitting sounds mixing with wet ones too. And your shameful moans coming from your lips. Your tits bounce with every particularly hard thrust while your pussy tightens in a silent plea to fill it, not only with his cock, but cum too.

His hips stutter in their pace for the last time, before shooting a hot load of cum inside you. You can’t help but feel used, disappointed at that. Didn’t hold his silent promise, if there was any after all. He buries deep inside, the warm cum fills your pussy almost to the brim, and his mind is blank - you can see how focused he is; his lips form a thin line, his eyes don’t look at you anymore and his brows frown as his cock pumped rope after rope inside you. Yours hits hard too, crushing to the point your body is exhausted. A tingling sensation rushes to end up in your fingertips, his skin is probably scratched and your lower stomach feels full of him - his cum, weird. You hope alcohol has been killing not only his brain but also his sperm.

When he is all spent, his body presses heavier against you - laying on you, not even pulling out his slowly softened cock. Now trying to steady his breathing. There was a weird expectation Leon’d leave you alone after orgasm, but he is still here. You want to push him off of your frame, to hit him and force him to get out of here - unfortunately, exhaustion veils the anger much easier, and your limbs grow heavier. Maybe it is lack of sleep, the grogginess that returns as your high slowly fades away and his warm body on you has a similar effect to a weighted blanket.

“Your dad is a man with a hard life, be gentle.” echoes in your mind again.

To be gentle is a gift one should earn or whatever. Not everyone was born with that. You thought you lacked that too, like a black hole the same Leon created unwillingly or unawarely in your life. Maybe not only you, the excuses for his absence swirl in your mind like a plague - Leon didn’t know better, maybe he didn’t have a good father figure either, - how could he know what to do at a young age? You wouldn’t have known either. Maybe you’d ignore your child for two decades too.

Tonight, ignorance is bliss and there should be only a weak embrace. Your arms wrap around his shoulders instead of pushing him off of you - you let him to fall asleep this once as an act of kindness you have promised your mom.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil x female reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil

491 notes · View notes

kismetlotts · 9 months ago

Text

Kinktober 🎃 day three: Age Gap!

cw: age gap (that is legal), dads best friend trope, virgin reader, pervy John Price, oral sex, mentions of oral sex on John, mentions of bondage, ‘good girl’, degrading names mentioned, mentions of manipulation, riding, creampie, facial

Dad’s best friend John who is always staring at you, eyes lost and almost dizzy looking- like he’s stuck in a trance or deep in thought. Dad’s best friend John who will smile at you, patting your shoulder as he greats you, his hand slipping slightly just skimming over your delicate breasts. Dad’s best friend John who is way too fucking old for you: i mean way too old.

You sat on the guys knee before you could even remember, he helped raise you, taking you to places- picking you up, teasing you like a normal man to his best friend’s daughter would. Not some sick and twisted pervert thats mind has been taken up with thoughts ever since you’d became legal. Naughty fucking thoughts.

He’d wonder what colour panties you were wearing as you pranced around the house, a small smile on your face and you greet him nervously. Maybe they were frilly and pink, so sweet and adorable just like you were- just like you’d taste. God he wanted you on his tongue- riding his face softly as you cry and wail for him to not tell your dad.

And of course he wouldn’t darling, he couldn’t risk his sweet little thing to be taken away from him. He knew it was sick, and for a while he’d tried to silence his thoughts, put a nail in his disgusting sexual fantasies, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t take one look at you without wondering if you were as wet and turned on as his cock was, but hey, he wasn’t going to fuck you. It wasn’t bad to think of them thoughts if he’d promised to himself to keep his hands to himself- he can look but not touch. Not until tonight at least.

Your dad was out of town, thanks to him- leaving you home alone this halloween. You’d be sat by the door, bowl of candy in your hand and you gave children handfuls with your soft innocent smile, soft innocent smile he’d ruin later.

Your movements were so youthful- looked angelic. He’d wait in the shadows, eyes locked onto the outside of your abode, waiting for the heard of family’s in costume to leave before quickly climbing the steps of your porch and giving your door a loud knock.

It was silly really, fucking ridiculous taking into account all he could lose. He could probably lose his job- as he and your father worked together, could lose his long friendship with your dad definitely and most importantly, he could lose you. If you were to reject him- he wouldn’t know what to do with himself- luckily enough he wasn’t counting on that happening. He’d feel your folds against his dick even if he has to tie you down to do it.

Through the blurred glass of the door he watched you hurriedly pace over, stalking you like prey as your hands gripped the halloween bowl full of vibrant little candy bars, opening the door with a smile before blinking in suprise.

“John?” You spoke, voice almost cracking from the surprise because you weren’t expecting him to arrive. Not today when your dad was away at least.

“Trick or treat.” He teased, pushing past you as he waltzed his way to the kitchen: no invitation needed. Waiting for you by the expensive marble island your dad had recently installed, back perched and arms crossed. Price hated the modern look people gave their homes nowadays, he liked the simple- warm cozy atmosphere over the bland and boring ‘expensive’ type.

You could see the muscles beneath his simple black t-shirt and despite his age he sure did look good. Subconsciously finding your lip caught between your two teeth. What was happening to you tonight? You’d been alone with John before so why did it now feel so.. different?

“My dad’s not here this weekend unfortunately..” You spoke, planting the bowl down on the island, hands placed on the top of the surface and he couldn’t help but watch as your tits buldged so shamelessly, like you were just asking for him to touch, showing off to get a reaction. The sexual atmosphere was enough to send Price over the edge but he clicked his jaw, taking a deep breath and began the conversation.

“I know he isn’t. I gave him the job to do.” It came out sharply and more truthful than he wished it to, taking into account the little eye twitch you did as your store into his. His cock slapping the material of his underwear, leaking more precum than he had ever. The way you were looking at him was pornographic, dirty: you fucking knew what he was here for and you wanted to give it to him.

He didn’t want to waste anytime, instantly walking over towards you, tucking hair behind your ear as he breathed in your scent, grunting in response. He looked down at you, so small and so obedient below him, a good girl. His tongue met your neck and he licked a warm hot line up to your jaw, groaning slowly as he whispered inside your ear.

“Tell me, darling. You a virgin?” Your face heated pathetically as you nodded and heard his chuckle, he was so desperate to get inside you now. Knowing how tight and wet you were bound to be, knowing that he could fuck and fuck all the innocence out of you until you became his personal little cum whore- he could keep you as his if you let him inside. Having leverage and something to hang over your head when you are misbehaving or forgetting who owns you. ‘Oh you don’t want to get on all fours and beg for my dick? That’s fine, I’ll just call your daddy and let him know how bad you wanted it inside you not long ago.’

His hands fell from your face and ear, down to your hips. Falling to one knee as he looked up at you from the floor. Fingers tugging down your bottoms and panties showing your cute little pussy.

“I’ll be gentle okay- it might feel a little strange at first but then you’ll love it.” He whispered, his breath hitting your clit and sending aches of need and desire around your body. You nodded hesitantly because you shouldn’t be doing this- your dad would go fucking insane. His tongue hit your clit, flicking up then down slowly as he sucked- beard rubbing against your thighs. Smirking as you wail in pleasure, fisting his hair quickly and trying to grind your pussy against his tongue. You needed more, god you wanted him to make you feel so good.

He ate you messily, hungry and wanting to drown inside your flavour. It was fucking delicious, his nose and chin dripping with your juices, his mouth busy before he pulled away from your pussy. Grabbing your side and bringing you down to the floor with him, fishing his leaking length out his jeans and and forcing you to ride him.

He was bouncing you up and down, guiding you through it, forcing you to take him despite the tears trickling down your face. He was thick and fucking long, and he hurt like a bitch. The door knocked and rang loudly a few times as you whimpered, trying to standup but he pinned you down, getting on top of you. Fucking you while looking at your face.

“They can get their treat after I get mine.” As he fucked you faster, all the doubts and worries he had vanishing. John just wanted to cum, he was like a dog in heat, pounding his gorgeous little sweetheart on her dad’s kitchen floor. His dick twitched as your hole tightened around him, sucking him inside again before he felt himself undo. Already shooting out his warm cum as he pulled out coating you in his white semen. Your tits shone in the light as beads of white hit your skin, your face and hair dripping with it and he couldn’t have seen a better sight. He could barley look away, his poor little virgin girl infront of him, defiled and fucked out- covered in his cum as your chest heaved for more air. Panting and probably throbbing from the pain.

He stood up shakily, pulling up his underwear before heading back for the door, taking one last look at the mess he’d made before slipping out. He’d have to come back again because one little fuck wasn’t enough. He was addicted to you now and there was no going back.

880 notes · View notes

morcez · 2 months ago

Text

IFHY

Synopsis: You are forced to work on a project with the man you hate the most, Satoru Gojo. Satoru is the campus fuck boy, but what happens when he tries to add you to his roster?

Content: College au, Fuckboy!Gojo x Nerd!Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, rejection, mature, suggestive, Gojo is a huge asshole.

enemies to lovers. enemies to even bigger enemies.

wc: 2.4k

Satoru Gojo is the biggest asshole known on campus, the standard fuck boy. He’s a spoiled brat. You hated him. You hated him the same way oil hates water. You hate the way he’d get praised like a god for the bare minimum, you hated how he treated women like mating holes, you hated how damn fine he is. He wasn't fond of people like you either. Girls who don't throw themselves at him and much rather focus on their peace. Guys like him found quiet girls like you as homework answers or a checkpoint to brag about to their douchebag friends ‘Yeah dude, I fucked loser in me lang class.’ It makes you shiver thinking about how gross those types of guys are, and how pathetic you must be to let one in your pants. You’ve had very minimal interactions with Satoru. You weren’t his usual type, so why bother speaking to you?

It was a normal day for the most part. You sat in the back of your ethics class, the class you happened to share with Satoru. You’re not quite sure why he even takes this class, as if he’s ever thought critically a day in his life. He sits in the very front of class, likely to Kento's request. He sits with his two roommates, Suguru and Kento, who couldn’t be any more different from him.

As class starts, the professor announces that there will be a project that must be worked on with a partner. Nothing out of the ordinary. You look around the class, seeking who you would partner up with. There weren't too many promising options. Maybe Nanami? You've partnered with him before in other classes. He’s probably the only one who’s on the intelligence level. You’re eyeing the handsome blonde so intensely that you don’t even notice Satoru standing in front of you.

“You got a thing for Kento?”

You jump at the sudden sound, then groan, realizing who it is.

“Ya’ know he’s way less classy than he displays himself to be.” He says, looking down at your seated frame.

“I was just going to ask to pair up with him,” you say quickly, hoping Satoru would just go away.

“He’s already partnered with Suguru.” Something in his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Satoru and Suguru are two peas in a pod. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen one without the other.

“Why aren’t you paired with Suguru?” You ask with your eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“I’d much rather you be my partner.”

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh. ewwwwwwwwwwwww. You aren't sure what game he’s playing, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him use you to win.

“No, thank you, Satoru.” You stare him straight in the eye. Expecting him to have a harsh reaction. But he stood there looking at you with the same smug smile on his face.

“Everyone else already has a partner,” he bites his lip to attempt to contain his giggle.

You look around the class to see everyone already seated with another person.

He won.

He begins to turn and walk away, a smug grin still on his face.

“I’ll see you soon, partner.”

It’s been two days since you were forced into being group partners with Satoru. You had Satoru Gojo blocked on all your social media; he had to get your number by begging Kento. Satoru insisted that you should come over and study because "libraries and cafes cause too much distraction." You smelt bullshit from a mile away, but school is too expensive to be fucking around with your grades, so you reluctantly agree.

You honestly contemplated ignoring him and the assignment altogether, but here you are, standing outside of his apartment door. You knock on the door a few times. Part of you hoped that he forgot so you could just go home. The door unlocks and opens carefully. You're greeted by Suguru, his sharp eyes stare at you for a minute before flashing a kind smile.

"Satoru, your partners here!" He yells before letting you in.

Their apartment is huge, it might as well be considered a house. The kitchen and living area are spacious and surprisingly clean. Their home is gorgeous; you couldn't help but compare it to your compact dorm. Both Satoru and Kento are seated on the coach. Satoru gets up once he notices your presence. Kento gives you a small smile and wave, then looks at Satoru in disgust. Satoru gives Kento a cheeky smile in response.

The air felt heavy, and you sensed there was some type of bickering occurring before you arrived. Too scared to say anything, it felt like you were standing on fragile glass.

"Let's get some privacy," He says, staring straight at Kento. He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to his room. " I wouldn't want us to have any distractions."

Satorus' room is isolated from the rest of the home, standing at the end of a long and empty hallway. His room is actually decently decorated. Posters and Vinyls littered his walls. His desk set up was neat, with expensive gaming equipment, of course. There are flourishing plants decorating his windowsill. You wondered which girl he screwd helped him decorate. Soundproof foam plastered to his wall, you didn't want to think too hard about what he had it for.

You’re sitting in the Satoru Gojo's bedroom. He’s sitting on his bed, a huge textbook sprawled across his lap. You’re sitting at his desk, on his overly pricey gaming chair. You tried to create as much space as possible between you two. You didn't say a word, as if you hoped he’d forget you're there. Hold your breath; scared to breathe too loudly. The man releases a dramatic sigh, finally breaking the loud silence in the room.

“Ya’ know, the whole point of being partners is to work together.” He says, slightly annoyed. You give a hum in response. You refuse to turn to look at him, opting to look at the words on the computer screen in front of you instead.

He lets out a scoff. “Why so far? Hm?”

You choke on air. You haven't entertained him whatsoever. Why is he trying? Is he that committed to being a whore?

“C’mere." He pats his navy blue sheets, the space next to him. This textbook is sooo confusing. I need your help.”

You turn to face him. Greeted by a sinister grin. You knew it was a ploy to get you in his bed, but you weren't going to let this horny bastard ruin your grade. With a groan, you stand up from his comfortable gaming chair and make your way over to his bed. You sit as far as you can, while still being able to see the textbook lying on his lap. So not far. He scoots closer to you, closing the already small gap between you two.

“What were you confused about?” You say trying to steady your voice.

He grabs your hand that's closest to him and drags it to the page, using your hand to point to the portion he was ‘confused’ about. Your breath hitches at the contact.

The nerve of this guy.

“Explain it to me? Please, Smarty?” His bright eyes lingered on you, as if he were not allowed to look away. You refuse to maintain eye contact any longer. Mumbling the explanation he asked for, as your nervous eyes try to find anything else to look at. He continues to look at you, intently and amused, as if your anxiousness was entertaining. His thumb lightly rubs over your hand sensually.

“So much knowledge in that pretty head of yours.” He coos.

Is he allergic to reading the room? So damn sure that every woman that crosses his path wants to fuck him.

You're angry. So damn annoyed. Who even is he?

You scoffed and aggressively retracted your hand from under his. You expected him to be angry, annoyed, or surprised. But when you look at him, he has confidence written all over his face. He closes the textbook and removes it from his lap. He turns his body to completely face you.

“Think you’re too good for me, smarty pants?” He teases.

You turn to face him completely.

He’s fucking unbelievable.

“I know I’m too good for you.” You state

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “What’s the ethics behind being a stubborn know-it-all?”

“Want to tell me what’s the ethics behind you being a dick for a brain whore?” You snap.

He has that flirtatious grin stapled on his face, as if he’s plotting something mischievous. Satoru places his hand on your knee, then slowly glides it up to your thigh. A chill shoots down your spine.

“Want me to show you instead?”

His words make your stomach flip. His blue eyes make you freeze as if he were Medusa.

Your brain was yelling at you to go off. To scream at him. To hit him. To move his hand. But you didn’t stop him, and neither did you want to.

“You’re gross.” You mutter under your breath. Looking everywhere but at his face. Fearing that if you looked too long, you would've folded.

He chuckles amused. His hand travels up to the waistband of your pants.

“Sooo fucking disgusting.” He mocks

He hooks his finger over your waistband, using it to tug you close to him.

Sitting face to face.

So close you can feel his breath. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear how fast your heart is pounding.

His hand plays with the elastic of your waistband a bit more like it’s a yo-yo toy.

“You’re impossible.” You snark at him.

He laughs a bit, then lets go of your waistband. Letting the elastic slap your skin. You flinch at the impact.

“Is that so, smarty pants?” He asks with that filthy grin on his lips.

You give a small nod.

“real cute.” His hand slithers to grab your waist.

“I fucking hate you.” You say this, yet your actions are contradictory to your words. Your body is moving closer to him. Your arms move to rest on his shoulders. “I’m sure you do, sweetheart.” He lifts your hips and moves you closer to make you sit on his lap. You’re straddling the Satoru Gojo. His hands wander around your waist, your hips, and gives your ass some attention too.

“No, I mean it. I really do hate you.” Your hands once again betray your lips as you glide your hands over his muscular shoulders and pecs.

His hands slide underneath your shirt. You slightly jump at the sensation of his warm hands against your cold back.

“I hate how cocky you are, and how you think the whole world revolves around you. I hate how you think rules don’t apply to you…”

His eyes linger on you. The look on his face was unreadable. Was he getting upset? His hands grip on your waist slightly harsh, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“I hate how you-“ suddenly his hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb landing on your lips. You finally shut up. He traces his thumb along your lips. He looks at you, engrossed in every single slight movement you make.

“Well, I hate how you don’t know how to stop running that smart mouth of yours.”

He giggles at your silence.

“Hear that, smarty?” He pauses, referring to the silence. “Much better, right?”

You give him an annoyed glare, not daring to say another word.

His other hand grips your hip securely. His glowing eyes glance down at your lips with a grin plastered on his.

He's ready to go in for a kiss. The move that solidifies his entry into any girl's pants. He's heard countless 'I would never sleep with him.'s Yet they all end up in his bed. Words couldn't express his excitement to finally add your name to the long list of bedbugs. He didn't care that Kento was upset about his little bet with Suguru to get in your pants. All that mattered was that you're exactly where he wanted you to be. He leans closer to you as he pulls you in. He closes his eyes. He’d never have thought he’d be this close to you, feeling your fluttering breath on your face. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and he’s already enjoying himself way more than he expected, way more than he should.

So very close to the two of y’all’s lips meeting, when suddenly he feels pressure to his forehead pushing him back.

Did you just push him?

Did you just reject him?

He lies back, his elbows holding his upper body up. He looks at you with confusion. His big blue eyes look up at you for answers, just to see you grinning. Satoru looks like a big, sad puppy.

He quickly sits up to be on the same level as you. His hands grip your hips tightly.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He whines. He fucking whines. His eyes look at you desperately.

“Real cute.” You mock.

He looks at you as if you’re pure evil. How could you be so cruel, and look beautiful doing it?

“Don’t look so mad." You coo, "I was trying to tell you all the reasons I hated you, but you didn’t want to listen.”

He glares at you, and all the admiration in his eyes is gone.

“You’re such a fucking smart ass.” He barks.

You giggle with amusement.“You’re just mad I didn't get your cock wet.”

He rolls his eyes at your words.

“I should get going.” You sing with a sweet smile on your face, in contrast to Satoru’s sharp grimace. You give his shoulders two friendly taps before getting off his lap. His hands loosen their grip on your hips. It was weird. Even though he was seething with frustration, he didn’t want to let you go. He felt despair wash over his body once you were out of reach.

You make your way to his bedroom door, giving him a simple “See you around, Satoru.” Before walking out.

Soon after you left, Suguru and Kento went to Satoru's room, finding him lying on his bed, defeated. His hands covered his ashamed face.

Geto leans on the doorframe of Satoru's room. "Never thought you'd finish so fast." Geto calls out to him mockingly.

"Shut up," Satoru mumbles into his hands. "She rejected me."

Kento lets out a loud sigh of relief, and a "thank god" slips from his lips. Suguru laughs loudly at the platinum's defeat. "Smart girl." He says in between chuckles.

"She's not even that smart."

lie.

"She's not cute either."

Another lie.

"I fucking hate her"

Loud incorrect buzzer.

dividers from @v6que

A/N: I haven't made a piece this long in forever, so please spare me. I might make a part 2, so lmk if you'd like to be tagged! Thank you for reading!

325 notes · View notes

giuseppe-yuki · 7 months ago

Text

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone.

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy.

shit.

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala.

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you.

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!”

that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance.

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too.

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera.

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips.

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!”

you give her and the camera a tight smile.

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car.

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you.

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down. “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!”

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel.

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence.

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you.

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...”

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max.

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday.

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy.

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around.

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you.

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss.

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways.

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck.

max takes a shockingly long time to respond.

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look.

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you.

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday.

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!”

“hmm,” he says.

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second.

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly.

“so… right here?”

“yeah,” he responds.

you shrug.

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world!

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that?

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like.

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job.

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!”

looking to you, her smile drops significantly.

“oh, and… who is this?”

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it.

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?”

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face.

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces.

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug.

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.”

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk.

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong.

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas.

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped.

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand.

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000.

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check.

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!”

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out.

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you.

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you.

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car.

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares.

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too.

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head.

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin.

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated.

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you.

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom.

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs.

“i hate you,” you say with no heat.

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck.

you both know where this always leads.

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too.

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings.

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly.

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago.

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again.

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having.

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space.

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents.

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it.

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in.

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair.

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.”

danica was still not done.

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket.

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt.

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out. “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues.

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down.

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions.

you let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all.

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max.

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face.

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix.

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed.

your boyfriend laughs.

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully.

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good.

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you.

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress.

“do you want to..?”

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen.

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck.

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing.

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly.

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain.

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips.

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #📝

639 notes · View notes