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gyuuberryy · 1 month ago

Text

trapped

pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader, slight sunoo x reader

genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror

synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.

warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, murder, blood, lmk if i missed anything

note: i just came back from a party and my legs are killingg me so im half awake as i post this BUTTT it's finally out!! i love this plot so much omg. i think the ending could've been written better but eh. enjoyy and lemme know what you think of it!

word count: 24.3k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the endless bickering between your parents filled the car like white noise. you were used to it by now—too used to it—but today, it grated on your nerves more than usual. you pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the dark trees rush by, a blurry mix of black and grey.

"well, if you hadn’t taken that ridiculous detour, we wouldn’t have wasted half the day!" your mom snapped, her voice rising with every syllable.

your dad clenched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "oh, right, because everything’s my fault! you’re the one who insisted we take this ‘bonding trip’ in the first place."

you sighed. there it was, that phrase again: bonding trip. a doomed effort to salvage what was left of your parents’ relationship before you left for your two-year exchange program. your mom had decided that spending time together, crammed in a car for hours on end, would somehow solve years of unresolved issues.

"maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" your mom retorted, arms crossed, glaring at your dad from the passenger seat.

you resisted the urge to groan out loud and instead slumped back in your seat. what was the point? nothing ever changed between them. you glanced down at your phone; no service, of course. this road trip to the ‘resort’ was supposed to be a goodbye vacation before you headed overseas, but the way things were going, you were counting the hours until it was over.

the car began to slow down as your dad pulled into a shabby gas station. it wasn’t much—a couple of pumps under flickering neon lights and a small convenience store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s.

“we’re stopping here?” your mom said, exasperated. “this place looks like it’s one step away from falling apart.”

“we need gas and food. you can’t survive on passive-aggressive comments alone,” your dad muttered, turning the car off and stepping out.

you stifled a laugh but quickly hid it when your mom shot you a look. without a word, you pushed the door open, desperate for a break from their constant bickering. you could feel their voices rising behind you as you made your way towards the store, the bell over the door jingling weakly as you stepped inside.

the guy behind the counter looked about your age, his face illuminated by the dull glow of a hanging light. his disinterested gaze shifted from the magazine he was reading to you as you approached. the store smelled like stale chips and cheap air freshener, a layer of dust coating the shelves.

“hey,” you greeted, leaning against the counter, “do you know if there are any motels up ahead?”

the guy looked up, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was a bother. he glanced at the darkening sky outside and then back at you. "motels? there’s a town maybe three or four hours ahead. not much else between here and there, though."

you frowned. “three or four hours?” your stomach twisted. that would mean driving into the night—and with your parents still at each other’s throats, the idea didn’t sit well with you.

“yeah,” he shrugged, “but it’s getting late. if i were you, i’d try to get there quick. you don’t wanna be out here after dark.”

his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded anyway, brushing it off. you grabbed a couple of snacks and paid quickly, eager to get out of the unsettling atmosphere of the store.

outside, the bickering had not only continued, but it had escalated. your mom was leaning against the car with her arms crossed, while your dad angrily fumbled with the gas pump.

“what do you mean it’s not taking the card?” your mom was saying, her voice sharp with irritation.

“i don’t know! maybe it’s your stupid card,” your dad shot back, slamming the pump back into its holder.

you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. wordlessly, you tossed the snacks into the backseat and climbed in, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. you didn’t want to deal with their drama anymore. after a few more minutes of back-and-forth arguing, they finally got the gas pump working, and soon, you were back on the road.

the silence in the car was thick, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered insult from the front seat. you kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, trying to tune it all out, when suddenly the car began to sputter.

your dad’s face tightened as the car jerked, the dashboard lights flickering. “what the—?”

with a final shudder, the car rolled to a stop, dead on the side of a long, deserted road. darkness had fully settled around you, swallowing the car in a sea of black. you could barely make out the outline of the trees surrounding you, their twisted branches reaching up like claws against the sky.

“great,” your mom groaned, massaging her temples. “just perfect.”

your dad cursed under his breath and got out to pop the hood, leaving you and your mom in the eerie silence of the car. you sighed, reluctantly stepping out to help. you had no idea what you were doing, but sitting in the car doing nothing felt worse.

as you peered under the hood with your dad, who was muttering to himself as he checked the engine, your mom’s voice suddenly cut through the night air.

“look!” she said, her voice urgent. “there—do you see those lights?”

you looked up, squinting into the distance. sure enough, faint lights were flickering between the trees far ahead, barely visible but unmistakable.

a chill ran down your spine. you’d been looking at the gps not too long ago, and there hadn’t been any signs of life for miles. no towns. no houses. nothing.

“something’s not right,” you muttered, turning toward your dad. “there was nothing out here when i checked earlier.”

your dad waved you off, closing the hood with a loud bang. “you’re just tired. we’ll check it out. maybe there’s a house or something up ahead.”

your mom was already back in the car, apparently unconcerned. you stood there for a moment, staring at the mysterious lights that flickered in the distance. something about them felt… off, but as usual, no one was listening to you. with a groan of frustration, you climbed back into the car, your nerves tingling with unease.

the engine sputtered weakly to life once again, and as your dad drove toward the lights, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for you up ahead wasn’t what you thought it was.

the car stuttered one last time before it gave up entirely, coming to a dead stop right in front of the lights. you blinked, heart racing as you took in the sight before you.

a mansion—no, the mansion—rose out of the darkness like something from an old gothic novel. the sprawling, ivy-clad structure stretched far beyond what you could make out in the dim light, its towers stabbing into the sky. faded stone gargoyles leered down from the corners of the building, their grim faces illuminated by the faint, flickering lamps that lined the driveway. the mansion seemed alive, ancient, its very presence looming over you like a dark shadow. it was eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled through the trees surrounding it.

for a second, you couldn’t breathe.

you swallowed hard. “this can’t be real.”

your dad got out of the car first, slamming the door shut with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “we’ll figure out the car in the morning,” he grumbled. “we don’t have a choice. let’s see if they’ll let us stay.”

your mom, already out of the car and standing beside him, nodded in agreement. she didn’t even look fazed, just happy to be somewhere with lights and (hopefully) a bed. “come on, it’s late,” she said, like she hadn’t noticed the eerie silence hanging in the air or the fact that this place seemed plucked out of another century.

“are you serious?” you muttered under your breath, standing frozen next to the car. “this place looks like a horror movie set.”

your dad gave you a weary look. “we’re not staying in the car, that’s for sure. stop being dramatic and come on. it’s just a mansion.”

just a mansion? you wanted to scream. there was no way this was a normal place—no way a mansion this large, this old, could have gone unnoticed on the gps. but the protests died in your throat when you realised neither of them cared. like always, they were too focused on practicalities to notice the screaming red flags around them.

with a sigh, you unwillingly followed them up the cracked stone steps that led to the massive, elaborately carved front doors. every footstep echoed, the wind seeming to still as you approached the entrance. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes followed your every movement.

your dad pressed the doorbell—a soft chime rang out, sounding way too delicate for a place like this. you couldn’t help but wince, your nerves on edge. the silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating. it felt as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting.

then, slowly, the door creaked open.

a young man stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by the warm glow of a chandelier behind him. his expression was neutral, almost blank, as if he had opened the door purely out of obligation. he was dressed impeccably, a sharp black tuxedo that seemed far too formal for a place like this—or maybe it was just perfect for this kind of mansion. either way, it unnerved you.

his eyes swept over your parents first, taking in their travel-worn appearance with little interest. “hello?” your dad started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “we, uh… we had some car trouble just outside. we were hoping… maybe you could help us?”

for a moment, the man—sunoo, as you’d later learn—didn’t say anything. he simply stood there, watching your parents with a blank face, like he was waiting for them to say something more interesting. his eyes flicked up to yours, and the world seemed to tilt slightly as his gaze met yours.

it was only for a second—just a fleeting moment—but something shifted in his expression. his cold, neutral stare melted into something… darker, more intrigued. a spark of something flashed in his eyes before his face returned to its impassive mask. the brief change left you rattled, a chill creeping up your spine.

your mom jumped in to break the awkward silence, her voice bright despite the situation. “yes, we’ve been driving for hours, and when our car broke down, we were hoping to find a place to stay. is this…” she glanced up at the looming mansion, almost sheepishly. “is this a hotel?”

there was a brief pause, and then, without warning, sunoo’s face split into the widest, most overenthusiastic grin you’d ever seen. it was such a drastic change from his earlier demeanour that it made your skin crawl. “oh, of course! you’ve come to the right place. this is a hotel, and you’re more than welcome to stay.” he extended an arm, gesturing grandly to the vast, dimly lit entryway behind him. “we have plenty of rooms available!”

your dad exhaled in relief, completely missing the oddity of sunoo’s exaggerated reaction. “thank god. you’re a lifesaver.”

you couldn’t stop staring at sunoo, watching the way his smile stretched just a little too wide, the way his eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite right. “this is a hotel?” you asked, voice filled with scepticism. “i didn’t see anything about it on the gps.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked back to you, and the unsettling smile never left his face. “oh? how strange. we’ve been here for a long time… surely, you must have heard about it.”

“no,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “i’m sure. there was nothing around here.”

just as you were about to explain further, he smoothly cut you off with a bright, “well, no matter! you’re here now, and that’s what counts. come, come! let’s not waste any more time standing out in the cold.”

he practically ushered your parents through the doorway, his sudden energy making you want to take a step back. your dad muttered a quick “thank you” and walked right inside, your mom following closely behind. neither of them seemed to notice the way sunoo’s cheerful demeanour seemed… off.

you, however, couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort twisting in your gut. every instinct screamed at you to leave, to drag your parents back to the car, but the reality of your situation left you with little choice. sighing in frustration, you reluctantly followed them into the mansion.

the door shut behind you with an ominous thud that echoed through the long hallway, and the heavy weight of the mansion seemed to settle around you. you felt trapped, as if stepping into this place had sealed your fate.

as sunoo led your parents through the dimly lit entry hall, you lagged behind, your skin prickling with unease. you leaned toward your mom, lowering your voice to a whisper. “this is creepy. something’s not right about this place.”

she barely spared you a glance. “you’re being paranoid. it’s just an old mansion.”

“an old mansion that no one’s ever heard of? that wasn’t on the map? you didn’t see the way that guy was acting. he’s way too happy about us being stranded here.”

your dad huffed, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “it’s a hotel. we need a place to stay, and we don’t have any other options. you can sleep in the car if you’re that worried.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the rest of your protests. of course, they wouldn’t listen. they never did. they couldn’t see the danger right in front of them.

as you followed your parents deeper into the mansion, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. the walls seemed to close in around you, and every footstep echoed like a warning.

something was wrong here. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.

sunoo led your parents away, gesturing toward a desk where they could check in. you lingered behind, reluctant to follow them. the dimly lit hallway stretched before you, lined with dark wood panelling and framed with ornate carvings. despite the grandeur of the place, there was an eerie stillness that seemed to swallow every sound. no humming of guests, no distant chatter, no echoes of footsteps on marble floors—just a vast, consuming silence.

you slowly started walking, glancing around, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. for a hotel this size, it should have been bustling with activity. yet, there was no one. not a single person walking through the hallways, no staff except sunoo at the entrance. just the soft padding of your own footsteps, echoing like whispers through the still air.

as you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a giant painting mounted on the wall. you stopped in your tracks, something about it tugging at your mind. the painting depicted a dark, stormy landscape—a crumbling stone mansion, much like the one you stood in now, surrounded by leafless trees that seemed to reach out toward it like skeletal hands. the sky above was swirling with ominous clouds, and a full moon cast a pale, ghostly glow on the scene.

but it wasn’t just the image itself that made your skin crawl—it was the strange feeling of familiarity. you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d seen this before, as though it was pulled from the corners of a forgotten memory. a knot formed in your chest as you stared, lost in thought. where have you seen this before?

suddenly, a voice, smooth as silk, broke through your thoughts.

“interesting, isn’t it?”

you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around. standing behind you was a man, and not just any man—he was stunningly handsome. his dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face that could’ve been carved from marble. his suit, a luxurious black ensemble that fit him perfectly, was undeniably expensive.

but what struck you most were his eyes—wide and dark, locked on yours with an intensity that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.

“i'm sorry,” he broke out into a soft laugh as he took a step back. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

his voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but he paused mid-sentence when his gaze landed squarely on your face. his eyes seemed to freeze there, widening slightly as if he were studying every detail. a look of surprise, or maybe recognition, flashed across his face for just a moment before he quickly composed himself. but the intensity in his stare remained, his eyes never leaving yours.

you felt a wave of flustered heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you, like you were the only person in the world. the weight of his attention made you feel strangely vulnerable, your pulse quickening in response.

you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the sudden rush of nerves. “uh… it’s fine,” you mumbled. “you just startled me.”

he blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance had held him. a slow, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “i’m heeseung,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “the owner of this mansion.”

“the owner?” you echoed, taken aback. “wow. i… i wasn’t expecting to meet the owner so soon.”

he smiled again, a soft, enigmatic grin that sent another wave of unease down your spine. “i like to keep close to my guests. this place… it’s very special to me.”

you tried to return his smile but faltered slightly, still unsettled by how intently he was watching you. “i’m—” you began, but before you could introduce yourself, your parents’ voices echoed down the hall.

“there you are!” your dad called, striding over to where you stood with heeseung. your mom followed closely behind, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “we were just getting checked in.”

you barely had time to react before your dad turned to heeseung, giving him a polite nod. “this is the owner of the mansion,” you quickly explained, introducing him. “heeseung.”

your parents seemed relieved to meet someone in charge, especially after the ordeal with the car. “oh, thank you so much for accommodating us on such short notice,” your mom said with a grateful smile. “our car broke down just outside, and we didn’t know what else to do.”

you shot a glance at your parents, your eyes widening in warning. why are they telling him that? you thought in frustration. it wasn’t exactly the kind of information you wanted to share so freely—especially not in a place like this, with a stranger who gave off such unsettling vibes.

heeseung’s smile widened at your parents’ words, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far too pleased to hear about your vulnerability. “no need to worry,” he said smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking back to you before focusing on your parents. “i’ll make sure your car is taken care of. i’ll have it sent for repairs tonight.”

“really?” your dad sounded relieved. “that’s incredibly generous. thank you.”

heeseung waved a hand dismissively. “it’s no trouble at all. you’re my guests now.” he paused, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “i’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

you swallowed hard, fighting back the gnawing sense of dread as you all started heading down the hallway. the mansion seemed to stretch on forever, with countless doors and long, winding corridors. despite the size, heeseung explained that most rooms were booked, which meant you would be in a room far from your parents.

your room was tucked away in one of the mansion’s oldest wings, a beautifully vintage suite with antique furniture and intricate wallpaper. the four-poster bed was draped in elegant, embroidered sheets, and the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a chandelier. it was charming, old-fashioned, and just a little too perfect. the type of room that might seem cosy under normal circumstances but felt unnervingly isolated in this mansion.

after settling in, you reached for your phone, hoping to check for updates on the car—or anything, really—but your frown deepened when you realised there were no charging ports in the room. none at all. you glanced around, frustrated, searching for a way to charge your phone, but there was nothing modern about this place. to make matters worse, your phone had no cell reception. it was like the mansion existed in its own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

letting out an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand. looks like you’d have to borrow your dad’s power bank later. you were exhausted, but the nagging feeling of unease wouldn’t let you relax. after changing into your nightwear, you slipped under the heavy, ornate blankets, hoping that sleep would take over soon.

but as you lay in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above, you couldn’t help but feel that something—someone—was watching you.

you lay in bed, the warmth of the heavy blankets doing little to ease the chill that seemed to settle deep in your bones. the eerie silence stretched on, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in from the cracked window. you hadn't noticed it was open before.

rolling onto your side, you glanced at your phone again. still no reception. it felt like you were completely cut off from the world, alone in this strange, sprawling mansion with no way to communicate with the outside. the feeling gnawed at you, a strange mix of frustration and unease swirling in your chest.

the longer you lay there, the more restless you became. every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind seemed to amplify the unsettling atmosphere around you. the chandelier overhead swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the walls. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, telling yourself it was just a normal hotel. nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary—just a quirky, old-fashioned place.

but the image of heeseung’s face kept creeping into your mind. the way his gaze lingered on you, intense and unreadable, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did. something about him felt off, not just unsettling but almost too perfect, too polished, as if he didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

eventually, the exhaustion started to pull you toward sleep. just as your mind began to blur at the edges, a soft sound reached your ears. a whisper. faint but unmistakable. you bolted upright in bed, eyes wide, heart hammering in your chest as you strained to hear.

at first, you thought it was the wind. but no, it wasn’t coming from outside—it was closer, much closer. the sound seemed to echo from just beyond your door, like soft voices carrying on a conversation, too low for you to make out the words. your skin prickled with unease.

you pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. the mansion felt even more imposing in the darkness, the once quaint vintage charm now taking on a more sinister tone. stepping cautiously, you moved toward the door, pressing your ear against it, listening.

nothing.

the whispering had stopped.

you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, debating whether you should open it. it’s just your imagination, you told yourself. you’re tired. you're in a creepy place. it’s normal to feel a little on edge.

but your curiosity—and the nagging sense of something being very wrong—won out. slowly, you turned the knob, the door creaking as it swung open into the dark hallway. the air was colder out here, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of something sweet—like roses that had been left too long in the vase, just starting to wilt.

the hallway stretched out in both directions, the same eerie silence blanketing the mansion. no voices, no footsteps. nothing. but your eyes caught on something—the flickering light at the far end of the hall. the soft glow of a single candle, perched on a small table near one of the old-fashioned sitting areas.

you frowned. that candle hadn’t been lit earlier.

carefully, you padded down the hallway toward the light. as you got closer, you noticed something strange—the candle’s flame wasn’t moving. it stayed perfectly still, not even flickering despite the faint breeze you felt coming from the windows. it was almost like it wasn’t real.

just as you were about to reach it, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

you gasped, taking a step back, but quickly realised who it was.

heeseung stood before you, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hallway. his suit was immaculate as before, not a single wrinkle out of place, and his expression was calm—too calm. he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, though it sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated, your mind racing with questions. why was he here? why wasn’t there anyone else around? but instead, you forced a tight smile, trying to appear composed. “yeah, i guess… this place is just a little unsettling.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. “you’re not the first to say that. old places like this tend to… hold onto things. memories. feelings.” his words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken meaning.

you swallowed, the unease bubbling up again. “it’s just… weird that there’s no one else around. for such a big hotel, it’s completely empty.”

heeseung’s smile widened, but there was something off about it. “most guests prefer the quiet. it allows them to reflect, to... feel things they’ve long forgotten.”

there it was again—that cryptic, almost too-perfect way of speaking. it made your skin crawl.

“well,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, “i think i’ll head back to my room now. it’s late.”

as you turned to leave, heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. the contact sent a jolt through you, though his touch was oddly cold. you froze, glancing back at him.

“there’s no need to be afraid,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re safe here. i’ll make sure of it.”

the way he said those words—like a promise—sent another shiver down your spine. you forced a nod, pulling your arm away gently and stepping back. “thanks,” you mumbled, backing away from him.

heeseung watched you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable before he finally stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to your room.

once you were safely inside, you shut the door firmly behind you, heart still pounding in your chest. the mansion was far too quiet again, but this time it felt suffocating. something wasn’t right here, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

you climbed back into bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. every sound, every shadow seemed to hold something sinister. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in this sprawling, empty mansion, heeseung was watching. waiting.

the next morning, you were roused from sleep by a soft knock at your door. groggy and still heavy with sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as the knocking continued, more insistent this time.

“coming,” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you padded across the room, and when you opened the door, you found your mom standing there, a tired smile on her face.

“good morning, honey. they’ve called us for breakfast downstairs,” she said, her voice chipper despite the early hour. “you should hurry and get ready. we don’t want to be late.”

you nodded, stifling a yawn. “okay, i’ll be down in a minute.”

she gave you a small smile and headed back down the hallway. you shut the door and took a moment to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. the encounter with heeseung had left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the mansion’s eerie stillness hadn’t done much to help. but this morning was different, right? it was daylight now, and everything felt less intimidating in the warm morning light streaming through the window.

you quickly got dressed, choosing something comfortable yet presentable. once you were ready, you stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right. your mom hadn’t mentioned where the dining hall was, and you realised you had no idea how to find it. the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors all looked the same—long stretches of dark wood panelling and ornate furniture that seemed to belong to a different century.

with a sigh, you started walking, hoping you’d stumble upon it. as you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into someone. you gasped, pulling back just in time, and looked up to find heeseung standing before you, a charming smile on his face.

“good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “i see you’re trying to find your way to breakfast?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone neutral. “yeah, i’m not sure where the dining hall is.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly. “no problem. i’m heading there myself. we can go together.”

you hesitated for a moment but nodded, falling into step beside him as he led the way. the hallway felt even longer with him by your side, his presence both unsettling and magnetic. he walked with an easy grace, like he belonged in a place like this, and yet something about him still made your skin prickle with unease.

“so,” he began after a few moments of silence, “you mentioned last night that you’re on a family vacation? that sounds lovely.”

you nodded, keeping your answers short. “yeah, just a road trip before i leave for university.”

“ah, university. where are you headed?”

“exchange program. i’ll be gone for two years,” you answered curtly, trying not to give too much away.

heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “that’s quite a long time. your parents must be proud—and a bit sad, i imagine.”

you shrugged, glancing away. “i guess.”

he let the silence stretch for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in that same intense way he had the night before. it was like he was trying to figure you out, peel back layers you didn’t even know you had. you kept your gaze forward, determined not to let him get under your skin.

finally, you reached the dining hall. heeseung pushed open the large double doors, and you stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. the room was vast, grand in an old-world kind of way, with high ceilings and walls lined with towering windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. a long dining table dominated the centre of the room, stretching almost the entire length of the hall. the table was covered with a pristine white cloth, and an array of silverware was laid out with meticulous precision.

but what struck you most was how empty it was.

apart from your parents, who sat at one end of the long table, there was no one else. the chairs were all perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who had yet to arrive. but the eerie thing was, it felt like no one would arrive. the silence in the room only amplified the emptiness.

you frowned, glancing over at heeseung as he escorted you to the table. “where is everyone?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “this place is huge, but... it’s like there’s no one else here.”

heeseung’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something almost too quick to catch. “most of our guests prefer to have breakfast very early,” he explained smoothly. “they’re probably already off enjoying the grounds or have checked out. i typically have my breakfast after the guests. but since you’re a bit late this morning, i thought it would be nice to join you.”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines of his carefully chosen words. it didn’t quite add up. the mansion had felt empty from the moment you’d arrived, and now, seeing this massive dining hall with only your family in it, that feeling only intensified. still, you didn’t press further. instead, you forced a small smile and nodded, going along with his explanation for now.

your parents, seemingly unaware of the strange atmosphere, smiled as you took a seat next to them. “this place is incredible, isn’t it?” your mom said, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the room. “i can’t believe how lucky we were to find it.”

you tried to match her enthusiasm, but something about this whole situation still felt off. the room, the empty table, heeseung’s unsettling politeness—it all gnawed at the back of your mind, a whisper of warning you couldn’t quite shake.

breakfast was laid out in a lavish spread, far more than the three of you could possibly eat. there were plates of fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and other delicacies you couldn’t even name. everything was prepared with a level of care and detail that felt almost excessive. you glanced at heeseung, who sat at the head of the table, watching your family with that same, unreadable smile.

he gestured toward the food. “please, help yourselves. i had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”

your dad wasted no time digging in, clearly impressed by the spread. your mom followed suit, smiling warmly at heeseung as she complimented the food. you, on the other hand, hesitated, your appetite dulled by the nagging sense of something not quite right.

as you picked at your plate, you caught heeseung’s eyes on you again, his gaze sharp, studying, as if waiting for something. the way he watched you—so intently—made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the empty chairs, the empty mansion, you weren’t alone.

as you carefully picked at your food, trying to ignore the unnerving atmosphere, your dad set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. he turned to heeseung with a casual smile, though you could see the underlying hint of concern in his eyes.

“so,” your dad began, “any idea how long it’ll take for the car to be repaired? we’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible.”

heeseung, ever the picture of politeness, gave a reassuring smile, leaning back in his chair with ease. “not to worry, sir. the mechanic i contacted is very efficient. the car should be ready by this afternoon, if not sooner. you’ll be on your way in no time.”

your dad seemed relieved, nodding. “that’s great to hear. we were worried we’d be stuck out here for too long.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly, though there was a strange glint in his eyes as he said, “we’d never dream of keeping you longer than necessary. but please, take your time enjoying our hospitality.”

you glanced up at him, something about his choice of words sending a ripple of discomfort through you. there was something about the way he spoke, always so measured, so... calculated. it was as if every word was carefully chosen for some hidden purpose. you couldn’t help but wonder what he really meant by that.

your parents finished their meals before you and heeseung, having arrived earlier to start breakfast. as they wiped their hands and prepared to stand, sunoo appeared at the door. his arrival was quiet, almost too quiet, and you hadn’t noticed him until he stepped into the room. he was dressed just as impeccably as before, his tuxedo crisp and perfect, but there was something off about his overly cheerful demeanour.

“if you’d like,” sunoo began, his eyes bright and a bit too wide, “i’d be happy to give you a tour of the gardens while you wait for the car. they’re lovely this time of year.”

your mom’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “oh, that sounds wonderful! what do you think, dear?” she asked your dad, who nodded in agreement.

“sure, why not? it’ll be nice to stretch our legs a bit.”

you watched as your parents exchanged smiles with sunoo, who beckoned them toward the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm. but your heart sank as you realised what this meant—your parents were leaving, and you were about to be left alone with heeseung.

before you could even offer to join them, sunoo ushered them out of the dining hall with a smile. “we’ll take our time, don’t worry! you two enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”

the door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving you sitting at the grand dining table, the echo of their footsteps fading into the distance.

and then it was just you.

and heeseung.

the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. you tried to focus on your food, but the air felt thicker now, charged with an unsettling energy that made it hard to swallow. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you again with that same, intense scrutiny that had left you uneasy from the moment you arrived.

you kept your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he might just lose interest. but you could still sense his presence, feel the way his attention never wavered.

“you’re not eating much,” heeseung remarked, breaking the silence, his voice smooth and deceptively casual. “is the food not to your liking?”

his tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it that made you feel like the wrong answer could mean something more than just criticism. you forced a small smile, shaking your head.

“no, it’s fine. i’m just not that hungry.”

heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “you seem... uncomfortable,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. “is something bothering you?”

your pulse quickened. the way he asked the question, so calm and controlled, made you feel like he already knew the answer. like he was testing you, waiting to see how you’d respond. you didn’t want to give him any more reason to focus on you than he already had.

“no,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “it’s just... a lot to take in. this place is... different.”

heeseung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “different can be good,” he said, his eyes glittering with something you couldn’t quite place. “sometimes it’s the unexpected that makes an experience truly memorable.”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the strange tension between you growing heavier by the second. there was something almost predatory in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“i suppose,” you muttered, pushing your food around your plate. “i guess i’m just not used to places like this.”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “not many people are.”

another silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. you could hear the faint ticking of a distant clock, the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. you glanced toward the door, half-hoping sunoo and your parents would return sooner rather than later, but there was no sign of them.

heeseung’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone soft but insistent. “you didn’t seem very interested in the history of the mansion last night,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. “but if you’d like, i could tell you a little more about it now. it has... quite the past.”

your throat tightened at his words. part of you wanted to refuse, to keep the conversation as shallow and short as possible, but another part of you couldn’t help but be curious. what kind of history could a place like this have? why did it feel like there was something dark lurking beneath the surface?

you hesitated, your fingers gripping your fork a little too tightly. “sure,” you said quietly, against your better judgement. “i’d like to hear about it.”

heeseung’s smile widened, a slow, almost sinister curl to his lips as he leaned forward again, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of interest.

“good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “because there’s so much for you to learn.”

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest. you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s... impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also... haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things... about the people who stay here. things they may not even realise about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just... the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that... guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of... captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanour was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren’t sure if you could escape.

the afternoon dragged on in an unbearable haze of waiting. you, your parents, and heeseung sat in the grand living room, the heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. outside, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming like a bad omen. the only thing on your mind was the car—where it was, how much longer it would take, and when you could finally leave this unsettling mansion behind.

your parents seemed more at ease, happily sipping tea that sunoo had prepared earlier, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease that rippled beneath the surface of every interaction with heeseung. you, on the other hand, were fidgeting, your leg bouncing nervously as you tried to avoid catching heeseung’s gaze. he had been watching you ever since you mentioned the car, his expression growing darker, his easy charm slipping.

“you seem quite eager to leave,” heeseung finally said, breaking the silence. his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something cold hidden beneath the surface.

you glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile. “well, we have to get to our resort, and we’ve already spent a lot of time here. i’d hate to miss out on more of the trip.”

heeseung’s lips twitched, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t like it here?”

there was something almost accusatory in his tone, and it made your skin prickle. you hesitated, not wanting to offend him but unable to shake the growing feeling of unease that seemed to cling to the walls of this place.

“it’s not that,” you said carefully, shifting in your seat. “it’s just that we had plans. you know, a family bonding trip. and... well, we’ve been here longer than we expected.”

heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “plans change,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “sometimes, staying a little longer can be... beneficial.”

a cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. the way he said it felt off, as if there was something deeper he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want you to understand just yet. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and sunoo appeared, running into the room with a frantic expression.

“heeseung!” sunoo called out breathlessly, his usual cheery demeanour replaced with genuine concern. “there’s a storm! a really bad one. the roads are flooding, and the mechanic just called—he can’t bring the car back today.”

your heart sank at his words, and you shot a glance at your parents, who exchanged a look of resignation.

your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “well, i guess we’re not going anywhere today.”

your mother nodded in agreement, placing her teacup down with a little clink. “we’ll have to stay another night, then. there’s nothing we can do about it.”

you could hardly believe it. you were so close to leaving, so close to getting out of this place, and now a storm? it felt too convenient, too well-timed. you turned to heeseung, expecting some kind of reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. he was smiling again—but this time, it was different. it wasn’t the charming, polished smile he had worn before. this one was darker, more predatory. his eyes glinted with something that made your stomach twist.

“i suppose that settles it,” heeseung said smoothly, his voice like silk. “looks like you’ll be our guests for another night.”

his words sent a wave of discomfort rolling through you, and you felt your throat tighten. you looked away, staring out the window as the rain began to pour in heavy sheets, the dark sky flashing occasionally with streaks of lightning. the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm brewing within you.

“i’m sure the car will be ready first thing tomorrow,” your father said, ever the optimist, though his voice carried a tinge of doubt.

sunoo nodded enthusiastically, stepping forward with his usual bright smile. “of course! we’ll make sure everything is perfect for you until then. don’t worry!”

you wanted to scream. how could no one else feel what you were feeling? how could your parents be so at ease when everything about this situation screamed danger? the mansion, the people, the timing of the storm—it all felt like a trap closing in around you.

heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you again, and you caught the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. he knew. he knew how unsettled you were, how desperately you wanted to leave, and he was relishing it.

“please, make yourselves comfortable,” heeseung said, his gaze locking onto you as he stood up from his seat. “we have plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your stay. after all, it’s not every day you get to experience a place like this.”

his words felt like a warning, a reminder that you were stuck here, and you had no choice but to play along with whatever game he was setting up. you forced a smile, feeling your pulse quicken.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. but heeseung did. his eyes flashed with amusement, and he gave you a slow, knowing smile that made your skin crawl.

“don’t worry,” he said in a voice so low only you could hear. “you’ll be safe here.”

the way he said it made you doubt every word.

that evening, the mansion’s eerie atmosphere feels heavier on your shoulders than ever. as the storm rages outside, you find yourself wandering through the darkened hallways, trying to shake off the strange feeling heeseung left you with earlier. something about his cryptic words keeps circling back in your mind, making it impossible to relax. you run your fingers along the old wooden bannister as you walk, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the too-quiet halls. but even that sound feels strange—the echoes don’t seem to bounce back to you the same way. it’s almost like they fade into the walls, swallowed by the house.

you pause as you notice a clock hanging on the wall ahead. the second hand ticks steadily, but when you glance at another clock just around the corner, you feel your skin prickle. the second hand on that clock is moving faster—much faster. you stand frozen, watching the two clocks run at different speeds, as if time itself is slipping out of sync.

the light overhead flickers, and you feel a chill run down your spine. the mansion is still as beautiful as it is unsettling, but tonight, it seems to be shifting in subtle ways. you walk further down the hallway, but something feels… wrong. the layout doesn’t seem quite right, as if the corridor you just passed should have been longer or led somewhere else entirely. you shake off the feeling, convincing yourself that it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you in this old, dimly lit place.

whispers.

you swear you hear them. at first, you think it might just be the wind rattling through the old windows, but the sound is too human—too hushed, like voices speaking just outside the range of your hearing. you spin around, expecting to find someone behind you, but there’s nothing. just shadows dancing along the walls, moving ever so slightly as the flickering light fights to keep them at bay.

your pulse quickens as you walk on, drawn down a side corridor you’re sure you haven’t been down before. the walls here are different—more elaborate, with heavy drapery and intricate mouldings. at the end of the hallway, you come to a door. something about it makes you pause. you reach for the brass doorknob, your fingers brushing against the cold metal, and a shiver runs through you.

when you open it, a wave of familiarity washes over you, hitting you like a forgotten memory. inside, the room is dimly lit, filled with old-fashioned furniture that feels like it belongs to a different era—plush chairs, wooden tables with detailed carvings, and an antique music box sitting on a dresser. the air smells faintly of dust and something sweet, like old perfume that’s been lingering for years.

your eyes fall on the music box. it’s small, delicate, with intricate designs etched into its surface. without thinking, you step forward and reach out, fingers brushing lightly against it. before you can even wind the mechanism, it begins playing on its own, the soft, haunting melody filling the room.

your breath catches in your throat as that eerie sense of déjà vu tightens its grip on you. the tune is familiar—so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard it before. it pulls at something deep within you, like a forgotten dream just out of reach. you’re transfixed, unable to pull away from the music, when suddenly, the door creaks behind you.

you whip around, and your heart skips a beat when you see heeseung standing in the doorway. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a shiver through you. he steps into the room, his presence filling the space, and the music stops abruptly, as if the mansion itself is responding to him.

“what are you doing here?” his voice is stern, not the smooth charm you’ve come to expect from him. there’s an edge to it that makes you take a step back.

“i—i was just looking around,” you stammer, feeling like a child caught snooping where they shouldn’t be. the weight of his gaze presses down on you as he moves closer.

“this is my study,” he says, his tone low and controlled, but you can hear the warning in his voice. “you’re not supposed to be in here.”

you feel a flush of embarrassment and unease wash over you. “i didn’t know… i just—”

“didn’t know?” heeseung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow as his eyes narrow. “or were you curious about what you’d find?”

the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. heeseung’s gaze is unwavering, as though he’s trying to read your every thought, his earlier charm replaced with something far more dangerous. you feel like you’ve crossed a line—one that you didn’t even know existed until now.

heeseung’s intense gaze softens slightly as he notices the way your face flushes with embarrassment. his lips part, as if he’s about to say something harsh, but then, as if catching himself, he lets out a sigh. the coldness in his eyes melts away, replaced by that familiar, smooth charm.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice lowering, smoothing over like silk. “why don’t i show you the library instead? i think you’ll find it... interesting.”

you hesitate, still rattled by the sharpness of his previous tone. something inside you whispers to be careful, to keep your distance. but the magnetic pull of heeseung’s presence is hard to resist, and despite your instincts, you find yourself nodding.

heeseung smiles faintly, though his expression remains unreadable. he gestures for you to follow him, and together, you walk down the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. the silence is unsettling, broken only by the soft shuffling of your footsteps against the creaky wooden floors. you can’t help but feel like the walls themselves are watching you, the weight of the mansion pressing in from all sides.

as you walk, you become aware of how time feels... off. the clocks you pass seem to tick irregularly, some faster, some slower, as though they belong to different realities entirely. the light filtering through the tall windows is dim, though it doesn’t seem like it’s evening yet. you glance back, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if something—someone—is just out of sight.

you stumble over a loose tile, your thoughts breaking apart. with a yelp, you trip forward, bracing yourself for a fall. but before you hit the floor, strong hands catch you—heeseung, steadying you with effortless ease. his grip is firm but strangely gentle. you gasp, heart hammering in your chest as you realise how close he is.

“you should be more careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his voice.

“thanks,” you mutter, flustered as you quickly pull away from his touch. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you avoid his gaze as he releases you, his soft chuckle following you down the hall.

the library is massive, far larger than you anticipated. the shelves seem to stretch endlessly, filled with books of every size and colour, their spines gleaming under the warm light of chandeliers. the space feels grand and intimate all at once, the kind of place that would normally make you feel at ease, but here... something feels different.

heeseung watches you carefully, his dark eyes studying your every move. you glance at him for permission before running your fingers along the spines of the books, your curiosity getting the better of you. with a nod, he gives you his approval, and you can’t help but dart forward, eager to explore the room further.

you lose yourself in the rows of shelves, marvelling at the collection of novels, old tomes, and handwritten manuscripts that line the walls. the air smells of dust and aged paper, steeped in centuries of history. you glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see heeseung watching you, but he remains a respectful distance away, his gaze soft and almost fond as he follows your movements.

but something feels... off. as you drift deeper into the library, a strange sensation pulls at your mind, as if something is guiding you, drawing you toward a particular section. without thinking, you find yourself moving toward the back, where the older, dustier books are kept.

your fingertips brush across the spines of these ancient tomes, and an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over you. there’s something about this place—this corner of the library—that feels unsettlingly familiar, like you’ve been here before in another time. the hairs on your arms stand on end, and you shiver involuntarily.

just as your fingers graze the spine of a particularly worn book, you feel it—the presence behind you. heeseung.

you turn slowly to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your breath catch. he takes a step toward you, and without realising it, you step back, your shoulders hitting the bookshelf behind you.

his eyes remain locked on yours, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. there’s no anger in his gaze now, just that familiar magnetic pull—like he’s trying to draw you closer, to see through you.

“you’re curious, aren’t you?” his voice is barely above a whisper, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow, trying to push back the fear creeping into your chest. “about what?”

“about this place. about me,” he replies, his tone smooth, almost teasing.

his eyes seem to darken as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. the heat of his body presses in on you, and you feel your pulse quicken as his fingers trail lightly along the bookshelf beside your head. heeseung’s smile sharpens, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze.

“curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “you never know what you might uncover if you start digging too deep.”

his words hang in the air, a challenge laced with something far more sinister. your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the urge to escape and the overwhelming draw of his presence. you can feel his breath against your skin, his closeness making it hard to think, to breathe.

for a moment, neither of you speak. his gaze flickers to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you can sense the power he holds in this place—like he knows far more than he’s letting on. like he’s been waiting for you to find something... or for you to lose yourself completely.

you break the silence, your voice shaking slightly. “what do you want from me?”

heeseung smiles, though it’s a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “maybe the question is... what do you want from me?”

the uneasy chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "you’re being ridiculous," you say, forcing more confidence into your voice than you actually feel. you try to shake off the tension hanging between you, hoping to laugh this off like it’s some strange dream.

but heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. he merely raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk. "very well then," he murmurs, his voice calm and unbothered, as though he knows something you don’t.

for a moment, you’re not sure whether you’ve defused the situation or walked deeper into it, but heeseung steps away, the heavy tension between you seeming to dissipate with each step he takes toward the door. he gestures with a small bow. "i’ll leave you to your evening, then."

you nod quickly, not trusting your voice to say anything that won’t betray the swirl of confusion and unease knotting in your chest. with that, heeseung disappears into the corridor, leaving you alone in the vast library. the silence is thick, almost oppressive, as if the mansion itself is holding its breath.

when you finally leave the library, your mind is buzzing. the conversation with heeseung, though cryptic, has left you more rattled than ever. his words, the way he watched you—there’s something deeper here, something you’re only starting to scratch the surface of. but, for now, you decide to push it aside. you need to clear your head.

by the time dinner rolls around, you’re feeling on edge. your parents are already seated at the dining table, chatting quietly as you join them. the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the grand, empty space. it feels strange—eerily quiet without the other guests.

you glance around, frowning. “where’s heeseung? and the other guests?”

sunoo, who’s been silently setting the table, looks up at you with his usual cheery smile. "ah, i’m afraid the other guests have already had their meal earlier. heeseung sends his apologies—he’s been caught up in some... urgent business.”

it’s the same excuse they keep giving you, and each time it feels less believable. you open your mouth to press further, but before you can say anything, your mother cuts in with a light laugh. “honestly, you’re always so curious, darling. just let it go.”

her words sound playful, but there’s an odd edge to them, as if she’s brushing off your concerns without really thinking about them. you glance at your father, hoping for some support, but he just nods in agreement, distracted as he stirs his soup.

you bite your lip, trying to push down the growing frustration. why aren’t they worried? can’t they sense that something’s off here?

dinner passes in a strange blur, the silence at the table broken only by the clinking of silverware. sunoo continues to move about the room like nothing is wrong, but the more you watch him, the more something about him feels... rehearsed, like he’s going through the motions of being normal without actually feeling any of it.

after the meal, you head back to your room, feeling more unsettled than ever. your parents’ strange behaviour, the missing guests, heeseung’s cryptic words—it’s all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite put together.

that night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper of the wind outside sends your nerves into overdrive. the mansion seems to come alive in the darkness, its walls groaning, floors shifting, as though it’s trying to speak to you—trying to tell you something.

you sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not with this strange energy crackling around you. something is wrong with this place, and you need to figure it out.

quietly, you slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoe toward the door. the hallways are dimly lit, the chandeliers casting long, ghostly shadows against the walls. you pause for a moment, listening to the silence, and then make your way through the mansion, your footsteps soft on the old, creaky floors.

as you wander, something strange begins to happen. the air feels colder, heavier, and the walls seem to shift subtly, as though the layout of the mansion itself is changing. you turn down a corridor you don’t remember seeing before and find yourself in front of a door, slightly ajar, that you swear wasn’t there earlier.

your hand trembles as you push the door open.

inside, the room is dimly lit by a single flickering candle. it smells of dust and time, as though no one’s been here for years. but what catches your attention immediately are the photographs lining the walls—old, faded photographs in ornate frames. you step closer, squinting at the faces in the pictures.

your breath catches in your throat.

the people in these photos… they look like you. some of them even resemble your parents. the clothes are different, much older—decades, maybe centuries old—but the faces… it’s impossible. how could they look so familiar?

you take a step back, your heart racing. something about this room feels wrong, like you’ve stumbled onto something you weren’t meant to see.

your eyes scan the rest of the room, and that’s when you notice the guestbook sitting on an old wooden desk in the corner. you approach it cautiously, your fingers brushing over the brittle pages as you open it.

the names written inside are faded, barely legible from age. but as you turn the pages, one name catches your eye—your father’s name, written in the same elegant script as the others.

your heart pounds in your chest. you flip through more pages, and there’s your mother’s name, too. and then… your own.

but the dates next to the names don’t make any sense. they’re from decades ago, long before you were even born.

you slam the book shut, a chill running down your spine. this can’t be real. it doesn’t make sense.

before you can gather your thoughts, a soft creak echoes through the room. you whip around, your heart in your throat, and see a shadow flicker in the doorway.

it’s sunoo, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an unsettling edge.

you freeze, unable to find the words to respond. sunoo steps further into the room, his ever-present smile feeling more like a mask than ever before.

“you shouldn’t be snooping around,” he says, his tone calm, almost soothing. “some things are better left alone.”

before you can say anything, sunoo’s eyes shift toward the guestbook in your hands. his smile falters for just a split second—barely noticeable, but enough to send a fresh wave of unease through you.

"i’ll take you back to your room,” he says, his voice steady again. “come on, it’s late.”

you don’t argue. you just nod,and follow him out of the room, feeling the weight of the mansion pressing down on you with every step.

the next morning, you wake up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows. groaning, you pull the covers over your head, hoping that maybe the storm has let up by now, but from the relentless sound, it’s clear that isn’t the case.

you make your way downstairs, hoping for better news, but your parents are sitting at the breakfast table, both looking completely at ease, as though the weather outside is no big deal.

“good morning, sweetheart!” your mom chirps, her voice unnaturally bright.

"morning," you mumble, taking a seat as you glance toward the large windows in the dining room. the sky is a swirling mess of dark clouds, rain pouring down so hard you can barely see the surrounding grounds.

“storm’s not going anywhere for the next few days,” your dad says casually, stirring his coffee. “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

you frown, a wave of frustration bubbling inside you. "what about the resort? the plans we made?"

your mom exchanges a glance with your dad, then she turns to you with a serene smile. “you know, maybe this is a sign. the resort will still be there later, and this mansion… well, it’s kind of charming in its own way, isn’t it? why not just enjoy it?”

you stare at her, incredulous. "you want to stay here?"

“it’s vintage, classy, and we’re already settled in. it feels… perfect, in a way,” your mother continues, her voice light but with an unsettling certainty. “it’s like we were meant to be here.”

something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. you’ve been feeling like you weren’t supposed to be here at all—like you’ve stumbled into a trap you can’t escape. but looking at your parents’ relaxed faces, they clearly don’t share your unease.

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. i guess we’re staying.”

it’s not like you have a choice anyway. the storm doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon, and the roads would be impossible to navigate in this weather.

you wander through the mansion’s winding hallways, the silence heavy and oppressive. no matter how grand or beautiful this place is, it feels like a cage—isolated, suffocating, filled with unseen eyes and secrets buried in every corner. the tension from this morning still clings to your thoughts like a dark cloud, refusing to let you find peace.

as you turn a corner, you nearly collide with sunoo, who’s balancing a tray of ingredients. his usual brightness doesn’t fade; instead, his eyes light up as he sees you. but there’s something in his smile—something mischievous, playful, and... unsettling.

"looking bored?" he asks with that trademark grin, though his eyes seem to flicker with something deeper. "want to bake something with me?"

you hesitate, feeling an odd sensation settle in your stomach. you haven’t exactly gotten close to sunoo since you arrived here. something about him always felt a little strange, as if he’s holding back, concealing his true self behind that playful mask. but the silence of the mansion is worse than the idea of baking with someone like him.

after a beat, you nod. "yeah, okay."

sunoo's grin widens, and he leads you into the mansion’s oversized kitchen, the high ceilings and gleaming countertops almost intimidating in their grandeur. you can’t help but feel like even this space is part of the house’s deception—too perfect, too polished.

“you’re in for a treat,” sunoo says, his voice slipping into a more casual tone as he sets the tray on the counter. “i make the best cookies you’ll ever taste.”

you don’t respond, already lost in your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from everything that's happened. the tasks of measuring and mixing are a welcome escape. sunoo chatters on as he gathers ingredients, but you only half-listen, trying to ignore the prickle of unease creeping up your spine.

as you mix the batter, sunoo’s light-hearted teasing pulls you in despite yourself. his comments, although flippant, ease some of the tension you’ve been holding, and before you realise it, you’re laughing at one of his jokes. you sneak a bit of dough when he’s not looking, and it feels almost… normal.

but then sunoo catches you, playfully swatting your hand. "hey! no cheating!" he scolds with mock seriousness.

you let out a chuckle, taking the opportunity to swipe some flour onto his cheek. "oops."

sunoo gasps, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. "oh, you’re going to pay for that."

before you can react, he smears flour across your nose. the playful gesture sends you both into fits of laughter, the tension of the mansion temporarily lifting. for a brief moment, the world outside this kitchen—its darkness and mysteries—feels far away. the warmth of sunoo’s laughter fills the room, and you can’t help but feel yourself relax in his presence.

but then something changes.

the playfulness lingers, but when sunoo’s hand grazes your arm, wiping away some flour from your cheek, the touch lingers a little longer than it should. his fingers brush your skin lightly, and suddenly, the laughter fades into a different kind of tension. his eyes meet yours, and for the briefest second, there’s something there—something unspoken, something... charged.

you swallow hard, unsure how to respond. the lighthearted moment has turned into something else entirely, and the air between you grows thick. sunoo’s grin remains, but his gaze—intense and a little too intimate—holds you captive for a moment longer than feels safe. you’re aware of his closeness, of how different this interaction feels compared to everything else between you.

and then, just as quickly, the moment is broken.

the sensation of being watched crawls back over your skin, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you freeze, the weight of a gaze pressing heavily on you, suffocating the playful atmosphere. slowly, you turn toward the doorway.

heeseung is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that makes your blood run cold. his eyes are locked on you, darker and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. the tension in the room shifts, and it’s no longer playful—it’s dangerous.

sunoo’s posture stiffens, but his smirk doesn’t falter. if anything, he seems to relish the moment. “oh, hey heeseung,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “we were just having a little fun. you don’t mind, do you?”

heeseung doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking from you to sunoo, then back to you. his eyes are sharp, a dark possessiveness brewing behind them. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. “i’m sure you’re keeping her... entertained.”

sunoo’s smirk widens as he steps a little closer to you, just enough to make the tension unbearable. “oh, absolutely. we make quite the team in here,” he says, his hand grazing your shoulder briefly in a gesture that feels too familiar, too intimate.

your heart races as you stand between them, caught in their unspoken battle. heeseung’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenched tightly as sunoo continues to play his game, his fingers brushing more flour off your cheek. the touch sends a jolt through you—not of comfort, but of confusion. why does this feel wrong? and why can’t you pull away?

heeseung’s calm facade cracks. he steps forward, his movements deliberate, as if every step brings him closer to an edge you can’t see. his voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth but holds a razor-sharp edge. “i think you’ve had enough fun for today.”

heeseung’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long, the touch possessive. sunoo’s playful demeanour falters slightly, but he steps back with a knowing look, eyes flicking between you and heeseung.

“i guess that’s my cue,” sunoo says with a sly wink, retreating from the kitchen. but before he leaves, his gaze lingers on you one last time, and in that moment, it feels like the game is far from over.

the moment sunoo is gone, the atmosphere shifts. heeseung’s hand lingers on your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulls you closer, his gaze locking onto yours. his touch, once soft, now feels like a cage, holding you in place as his lips curl into a dark smile.

“you shouldn’t let him get so close to you,” heeseung says softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you with a dark intensity. “he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

your pulse quickens, and you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens. his eyes are soft, but the look in them is anything but. he’s watching you like you belong to him, and the thought sends another wave of fear crashing over you.

“i…” you don’t know what to say. you’re caught between the two of them, between the strange camaraderie they share and the way heeseung’s mood shifts on a knife’s edge.

heeseung leans closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “you should only trust me. i’m the one who cares about you.”

the words send a chill through you, and yet… you can’t pull away.

heeseung’s hand remains on your arm, his touch gentle but firm as he leads you out of the kitchen. his earlier tension has shifted into something more deliberate, more focused, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading you somewhere for a reason—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face.

“there’s a better way to pass the time,” he murmurs, his voice low as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. there’s something unreadable in his gaze, a dark glimmer of emotion that both unnerves and draws you in.

you don’t respond, your mind still spinning from the earlier interaction with sunoo, from the way heeseung had claimed your attention so completely. now, as he leads you down another unfamiliar hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking deeper into something—into the very heart of the mansion’s secrets.

eventually, you reach a door at the end of the corridor, and heeseung pushes it open with a soft creak. the room beyond takes your breath away.

it’s elegant, grand in a way that feels both timeless and dreamlike. a grand piano sits in the centre, its polished surface gleaming under the light streaming in from a gigantic window. the window offers a perfect view of the garden outside, which—despite the ongoing storm—seems eerily peaceful, the flowers swaying gently as though untouched by the chaos in the sky.

you step inside, your feet moving almost of their own accord. the air in here feels different, thick with something unnameable. as you look around, that familiar feeling of déjà vu washes over you again, stronger this time. you’ve been here before—or at least, it feels like you have.

heeseung watches you closely, his dark eyes following your every movement. there’s something in his gaze—something that flickers between hunger and sorrow, desperation and longing. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to remember something important, something crucial.

without a word, he sits down at the piano. his fingers brush lightly over the keys, and after a brief moment of silence, he begins to play.

the melody is soft at first, gentle and haunting, and yet… you know it. somehow, impossibly, you recognize the tune even though you’ve never heard it before. the notes seem to pull at something deep inside you, stirring emotions you can’t explain.

as heeseung plays, his gaze never leaves you. his eyes are dark, intense, filled with a pain that tugs at your heart. but behind that pain, there’s something else—something dangerous, something that feels like it’s pulling you toward him, binding you to him in ways you can’t understand.

the music swells, filling the room with a haunting beauty that leaves you breathless. your chest tightens, and before you realise what’s happening, you feel tears streaming down your face. your body moves on its own, your feet carrying you across the room toward heeseung.

you stop in front of him, your vision blurred with tears. gently, almost instinctively, you reach out and place your hand on his cheek. his skin is warm under your touch, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, leaning into your hand as if savouring the contact.

the final note of the melody lingers in the air, and heeseung’s fingers are still on the keys. the silence that follows feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and unasked questions.

you gasp, suddenly realising what you’re doing. you pull your hand away from his face, stepping back as if you’ve crossed an invisible line. your heart pounds in your chest, your mind swirling with confusion.

“i—i’m sorry,” you stammer, wiping at your tears. “i don’t know what came over me.”

heeseung opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at you, there’s a sadness there so profound it makes your heart ache. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you as though waiting for you to understand something.

you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “what is this place, heeseung? why… why does it feel like i’ve been here before?”

his expression darkens, his gaze growing distant as if he’s wrestling with something inside himself. for a moment, you think he’s going to deflect your questions like he always does, but then, to your surprise, he speaks.

“this mansion,” he begins, his voice low and almost resigned, “is not what it seems.”

your blood runs cold at his words, and you feel a chill creep up your spine.

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung rises from the piano bench, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. there’s something predatory in the way he moves, but there’s also a deep sadness in his eyes, as though he’s weighed down by centuries of pain.

“this place…” he says quietly, glancing around the room. “it has a way of trapping those who stay too long. the walls, the halls—they shift, they change, and time here doesn’t flow the way it should.”

your mind races as you process his words. “trapping? how?”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, his expression unreadable. “the mansion is alive in its own way. it feeds off the presence of those who come here, twisting their reality until they can no longer leave.”

you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. “are you saying… we’re trapped?”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, his hands clenched at his sides. “yes,” he says softly. “but you… you’re different.”

“different?” you echo, confusion swirling in your mind. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. “the mansion brought you here for a reason. it’s not a coincidence that you ended up at this place—it’s because of who you are.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s gaze is piercing, and his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’ve been here before,” he says, his voice low. “a long time ago.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a wave of nausea wash over you. “that’s impossible.”

heeseung takes another step forward, his eyes filled with desperation now. “it’s not impossible. you were here, in another time, in another life. and you were with me.”

the room feels like it’s spinning. your thoughts race as you try to make sense of his words, but nothing adds up. “you’re lying,” you whisper, but even as you say it, a part of you knows that he’s telling the truth.

“i’m not lying,” heeseung says, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “we were together, bound to this place. and now… the mansion has brought you back to me.”

you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t understand.”

heeseung’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “the mansion has a way of bringing people back, of trapping them in a cycle. i’m bound to this place, cursed to live here for eternity. and now that you’re here again…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air.

you take a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “you think… you think i’m supposed to share your fate?”

heeseung looks at you with a mix of desperation and longing. “i don’t know. but i do know that this place… it won’t let you leave easily.”

the weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a chill run through you. the mansion—the strange feeling of familiarity, the way time seemed to warp—it all suddenly makes sense. you were meant to be here, drawn back into heeseung’s orbit, bound by forces far beyond your control.

but even as you grapple with the reality of it, one question burns in your mind: what are you willing to do to escape? and more importantly, are you even sure you want to?

the air between you and heeseung feels heavy after his haunting confession, a truth that lingers like a cloud over your thoughts. your heart is racing, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull towards him. his words replay in your mind, looping with eerie familiarity: you’ve been here before. with me.

it doesn’t make sense, and yet somehow, in the deep recesses of your memory, it does.

heeseung’s dark eyes soften as he steps closer to you, his previous intensity fading into something almost fragile. you expect him to push further, to lock you into his twisted truth, but instead, his posture slackens as if he’s letting go of something—some control he’s been gripping too tightly. there’s a new softness in his gaze, and it catches you off guard.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… this place, this mansion—it does things to people. to me.”

he reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might flinch away. but you don’t. you stand frozen, your mind still reeling. when his fingers brush against your arm, there’s a strange warmth to his touch, and you feel that pull again, that magnetic force that both terrifies and draws you to him.

"i've been trapped here for so long," he continues, his voice trembling just slightly. he sits down on the sofa by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hollowness in his expression. “i don’t even know how much time has passed. decades? centuries? it all blurs together after a while.”

you remain standing, watching him closely. his earlier intensity—the predatory edge in his voice—seems to have dissolved, leaving behind someone who looks genuinely broken. his eyes drop to the floor, and for the first time since you arrived, he looks vulnerable, as though the weight of his endless existence is finally catching up to him.

“i didn’t ask for this,” heeseung says, his voice raw with emotion. “i didn’t ask to be bound here, to this place. i never wanted to be a prisoner.” he glances up at you, and in the dim light, you see something flickering in his gaze: pain, longing… regret.

your chest tightens. the mansion, the strange events, the unshakable feeling that you’ve been here before—it all swirls inside your head like a storm. but now, looking at him, sitting in front of you like this, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he isn’t the monster you thought he was. maybe he’s just as trapped as you are, desperate for a way out.

you find yourself stepping closer to him, your feet moving on their own. you sit down beside him, keeping a small distance, your body tense. for a long moment, neither of you speak. the only sound is the crackling of the fire, filling the room with warmth and an eerie sense of peace.

“i’m sorry,” heeseung whispers, his voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet. “for dragging you into this. you shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his words, and against your better judgement, you find yourself reaching out, your hand resting on his. he looks down at the contact, his eyes wide as if he didn’t expect your touch, and for a fleeting moment, he closes his eyes, savouring the warmth.

“it’s not your fault,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “none of this is your fault.”

heeseung’s eyes snap open, and he looks at you, truly looks at you, with a mix of shock and something else—something deeper. for a long time, neither of you speaks, but the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words.

then, without warning, he lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “maybe because you’re the first person i’ve seen in so long… maybe because i’ve been alone for too long.”

the sadness in his voice tugs at your heart. you can’t help but imagine what it must be like—to be stuck in this place for eternity, unable to leave, watching the world move on without you. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

“i don’t want you to be alone anymore,” you say, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung’s gaze snaps to yours, his eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch light and hesitant, as though he’s afraid of pushing you away.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “if you stay… you’ll be trapped, just like me.”

the reality of his words hits you like a wave of cold water, but even as you register the danger, you can’t seem to pull away from him. there’s something about heeseung that draws you in, something that makes you want to help him, even if it means risking yourself.

“i’m not afraid,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know why, but i feel like… like i know you. like we’ve been through this before.”

heeseung’s breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at you with such intensity that it takes your breath away. then, without a word, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i wish it could be different,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “i wish i could let you go, but… i can’t.”

the next few days pass in a blur of quiet moments shared between you and heeseung. there’s an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully addresses—the haunting truth of the mansion and its curse—but in these days, heeseung’s vulnerability and warmth seem genuine. the dark edges of his earlier intensity have softened, leaving you with the version of him that feels...safe.

each evening, the two of you sit together by the grand fireplace in the main hall, the warmth of the flames casting a golden glow over heeseung’s features. the way he speaks to you during these moments is intimate, his voice low and soothing. he shares bits and pieces of his past—not the dark, twisted parts, but memories of beauty and light.

one night, you find yourselves sitting across from one another at a small, round table, a cosy dinner spread out between you. the fire crackles beside you, filling the room with warmth. heeseung had insisted on preparing the meal, and though you’d never seen him cook before, the food is surprisingly delicious. it’s simple, nothing extravagant, but there’s something deeply comforting about the whole scene.

heeseung pours you a glass of wine, the red liquid glistening in the candlelight. he smiles gently as he hands it to you, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you feels like it’s beginning to ease.

“it feels normal, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe. “like we could be anyone, anywhere. like none of this…” he gestures vaguely to the mansion around you, “…exists.”

you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness before you nod. “it does,” you agree softly. “for the first time since i got here, it feels… peaceful.”

heeseung’s gaze lingers on you, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted. a moment of peace.”

the words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but feel the weight of them. heeseung’s life—if you can even call it that—has been one long stretch of isolation and pain. and now, here he is, seeking solace in the small moments he can share with you. your heart aches for him.

“you’ve been alone for so long,” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and for a moment, heeseung’s eyes flicker with something deep, something raw.

“i’ve had to be,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d become if i let myself feel anything. if i let myself believe that things could ever be different.”

he looks away, staring into the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. “but with you… it feels different. like there’s a chance for something better.”

your chest tightens at his words. there’s a sincerity in his voice that you can’t deny, a vulnerability that makes you want to believe him. you’ve seen the darkness in heeseung, felt the weight of his mysterious past, but now… now you see the man beneath it all. the man who’s been trapped, longing for freedom, for connection.

“i want to help you, heeseung,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know how, but… i want to try.”

heeseung turns back to you, his eyes shining with something akin to hope. he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. the gesture is tender, intimate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’ve already done more for me than you know,” he whispers. his gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away. there’s only you and him, caught in this strange, timeless place.

the next morning, heeseung takes you on a walk through the mansion’s garden. the day is overcast, the sky a soft blanket of grey, but the air is warm, filled with the scent of the blooming flowers that line the winding paths. it’s quiet out here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the overgrown hedges.

heeseung leads you toward the edge of the garden, where a large, ancient tree stands tall and proud, its branches stretching out like arms welcoming you. the bark is weathered, covered in thick moss, and there’s a certain energy that emanates from it, something both powerful and deeply familiar.

“this tree,” heeseung begins softly, running his hand over the rough bark, “has been here longer than the mansion itself. some say it’s the heart of this place, that it holds the memories of all those who’ve lived here.”

you step closer, staring up at the gnarled branches twisting above you. there’s something haunting about the tree, something that feels almost… alive.

“it’s strange,” you murmur, “but i feel like i know this tree. like i’ve stood here before.”

heeseung turns to you, his gaze filled with a deep intensity. “that’s because you have.”

your breath catches at his words, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “there are pieces of you that remember this place,” he says quietly. “just like there are pieces of me that have never forgotten you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a strange pull toward him once again, a sense that the two of you are bound together by something far greater than just this moment.

“do you ever wonder,” heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why this place feels like home?”

your mind races, trying to process the weight of his question. you don’t know how to answer, because the truth is, you’ve been wondering that since the moment you arrived. and now, with heeseung standing beside you, the mansion looming behind you, and the ancient tree towering above you, the feeling is stronger than ever.

“maybe,” you whisper, “it’s because it is.”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops. there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between you—a sense that, no matter how much you try to fight it, your fates are intertwined.

but as the days pass, those sweet moments with heeseung—the cosy dinners by the fire, the walks through the garden, the soft, lingering touches—begin to feel like something more. they feel like a promise. like he’s slowly binding you to this place, to him.

and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

the following morning is quieter than usual, with heeseung nowhere to be found. you drift through the halls of the mansion, feeling a strange mix of restlessness and curiosity, until you find yourself in the kitchen. the smell of something sweet wafts through the air, and when you step inside, you see sunoo standing by the counter, mixing a bowl of dough with effortless grace.

he looks up as you enter, a bright smile spreading across his face. “good morning!” he chirps, his voice as light and cheerful as always. “i thought we could bake something today. you seemed to enjoy the cookies i made last time.”

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure why your chest tightens a little at his easy demeanour. sunoo has always been polite and warm, a calming presence in the otherwise eerie mansion, but lately, something about him has started to feel... off. his constant cheerfulness, his perfect hospitality—it all seems too deliberate, too practised.

still, you find yourself drawn to the idea of something normal, something grounded in the here and now. so you nod, stepping into the kitchen to join him.

“what are we making?” you ask, moving to stand beside him at the counter.

sunoo beams. “heeseung loves cinnamon rolls,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye. “i thought we’d make a batch for him.”

you feel a flutter in your chest at the mention of heeseung. you’ve spent so much time with him lately that it’s hard not to think about him constantly.

“how long have you been here, sunoo?” you ask after a moment, trying to sound casual. you’ve never really asked before—never thought to, really—but now that you’ve started thinking about it, the question gnaws at you.

sunoo’s smile tightens just a fraction, his hands stilling for a moment before he continues kneading. “longer than i can remember,” he says with a light laugh. “time is strange here. you lose track after a while.”

his words send a shiver down your spine. you’ve heard heeseung talk about the mansion warping time, but to hear sunoo echo the same sentiment makes it feel even more real. and the way he brushes off the question only adds to the growing sense of unease.

you try to shake the feeling, focusing instead on helping him roll out the dough. the kitchen feels warm and cosy, a stark contrast to the unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind. sunoo hums softly as he works, his movements fluid and graceful.

but then, just as you’re starting to relax again, sunoo speaks, his voice soft but laced with something... knowing.

“cinnamon rolls were always your favourite, too.”

you freeze, your hand hovering over the tray of dough. his words sink in slowly, like a cold drop of water trickling down your spine.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunoo looks up at you, blinking in confusion as if he doesn’t quite understand the gravity of what he’s just said. “i said cinnamon rolls were always your favourite,” he repeats, his tone casual but his eyes flickering with something deeper.

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “how would you know that?”

for the first time since you’ve met him, sunoo seems caught off guard. his usually calm, cheerful demeanour falters, and he fumbles with his words. “i-i mean, heeseung mentioned it once,” he says quickly, his smile strained. “you must’ve said something about it, right?”

but you know you didn’t. you’ve never mentioned cinnamon rolls or anything about your preferences to either of them. you would remember if you had. and the way sunoo’s face pales slightly, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes—none of it feels right.

“sunoo,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do you really know that?”

he straightens up, the playful light in his eyes dimming. for a brief moment, you see something else in him—something darker, something far more calculated than the friendly host you’ve come to know. he looks at you as though measuring his next move, deciding how much to say.

“i—” sunoo stammers, then forces a bright smile again, though it no longer seems genuine. “you know how heeseung and i have lived here for so long. it just... slipped out. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he’s deflecting. you can see it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way his hands fidget nervously at his sides. the confidence that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something much more guarded.

you narrow your eyes, stepping closer to him. “that’s not it, sunoo. you know more than you’re telling me.”

for a moment, sunoo’s cheerful facade cracks completely. his eyes meet yours, and the playfulness drains from his expression. what’s left behind is cold, calculating, and far too knowing for comfort.

“you don’t want to ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight that sends another shiver down your spine.

before you can respond, he turns away, resuming his work on the cinnamon rolls as though the conversation never happened. the air between you feels thick with unspoken truths, and your mind races with questions you don’t know how to voice.

how does sunoo know things about you that you’ve never shared? and why does it feel like he’s hiding something—something big, something dangerous?

as the silence stretches on, your unease only grows. the cosy warmth of the kitchen now feels suffocating, and every glance sunoo throws your way feels like a veiled warning. you try to focus on the task at hand, but your thoughts keep spiralling, circling back to the same unsettling conclusion:

there’s something very wrong here.

later that evening, as you sit with heeseung by the fire once again, you can’t stop thinking about what sunoo said. you want to ask heeseung, to get some kind of explanation, but you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding paranoid. every time you try to voice your thoughts, the words get caught in your throat.

heeseung notices your distraction, of course. he always does. his dark eyes flicker with concern as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, his voice filled with that familiar warmth that always seems to melt your defences.

you force a smile, though it feels brittle. “i’m fine,” you lie, your heart racing.

but as heeseung leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is slipping out of your control. the mansion, sunoo, heeseung—it’s all starting to unravel, and you’re not sure if you’re prepared for what you’ll find once the proper truth comes to light.

the storm that had raged outside the mansion for what felt like days finally breaks, leaving the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the last drops of rain dripping off the eaves. the sky is clear now, a pale blue that feels far too serene after the eerie chaos of the past few days. you should be relieved, ready to leave this strange place and return to the life you know, but there’s a tension clinging to you that refuses to dissipate.

your parents, already packing up in their room, seem eager to get back on the road. they’ve been talking about the upcoming week—about how you need to prepare for your university exchange program and the final stretch of family time before you go. you should feel the same urgency, the same excitement to return to normalcy, but something keeps you rooted in place, lingering in the mansion’s dim corridors.

and then there’s heeseung.

he’s been quieter than usual since the storm ended, his smiles fewer and his demeanour darker, but every time you try to bring it up, he brushes it off. it’s like he’s biding his time, waiting for the right moment to say whatever’s been brewing behind his careful mask.

that moment comes after dinner, when your parents step outside to check on the car. you find yourself alone with heeseung in his room, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with unspoken words. you glance at him, and something in his expression—a tightness around his eyes, a tension in his jaw—makes your pulse quicken.

“heeseung…” you begin, your voice tentative. “we’re leaving soon. i have to get back in time for the program.”

at your words, something shifts in him, subtle but palpable. his dark eyes lock onto yours, and the pleasant facade he’s been wearing all this time cracks, just slightly. the smile that curls his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

“you’re really going to leave me?” his voice is soft, almost too soft, and yet there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.

you take a step towards him, trying to explain. “i have to go. the program—it’s important, and i can’t just stay here.”

heeseung’s expression darkens, and he takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “what’s more important? some exchange program or me?”

the question catches you off guard. his voice is low, laced with something that sounds like hurt, but there’s a simmering anger beneath it that makes you nervous.

“i… it’s not like that,” you stammer, trying to find the right words. “i’ve worked so hard for this, heeseung. it’s a big opportunity. you understand, don’t you?”

but he’s not listening. heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “no, i don’t understand,” he snaps, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “you can’t just leave! after everything we’ve been through—after everything i’ve done for you—you’re just going to walk away?”

your heart pounds in your chest as his words hit you like a physical blow. there’s something wild in his gaze now, something unhinged. heeseung reaches out, grabbing your arm, and his grip is too tight, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re not going,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, the fury in his tone barely masked. “you can’t.”

the room feels like it’s closing in on you, the fire’s warmth suddenly stifling. you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging deeper into your arm. his face contorts with an emotion you can’t fully name—something between rage and desperation.

“heeseung, you’re hurting me,” you manage to say, your voice shaky as you try to free yourself from his grasp.

at your words, his expression shifts again—this time to something that almost looks like regret, but it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by that same desperate intensity. he loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but there’s still an unsettling edge to it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just… i can’t lose you.”

his face is inches from yours, and there’s something predatory in the way he looks at you now. before you can react, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes you stumble back. the kiss is rough, possessive, not at all like the tender moments you’ve shared before. it’s as if he’s trying to claim you, to make you stay through sheer force of will.

you try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his hands holding you in place. panic flares in your chest, but just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls back, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and something akin to pleading.

“don’t go,” he whispers, his voice trembling now, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “please… don’t leave me.”

the sudden shift is dizzying. one moment, he was angry—furious, even—and now he’s begging, his voice raw with emotion. heeseung’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, his fingers trembling as he holds onto you as if you’re his only lifeline.

“i’ve been trapped here for so long,” he says, his voice breaking. “you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in… i don’t even know how long. i can’t bear the thought of being alone again. not after everything we’ve shared.”

you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken. his eyes are filled with so much pain, so much longing, that it tugs at something deep inside you. despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, a part of you feels drawn to him, feels the weight of his desperation, his need for you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “but i can’t let you leave. i can’t let you forget about me.”

his words send a chill through you, but they also stir something else—something darker, something that makes you question your own resolve. can you really leave him here, alone, after everything?

“heeseung,” you begin, your voice shaky, “i don’t want to hurt you either, but i have to go back. my life… i can’t just abandon it.”

his expression hardens for a moment, and for a terrifying second, you think his anger will return, but instead, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. his body trembles, and you feel the wetness of his tears soaking into your shirt.

“stay with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… i need you.”

the weight of his words crashes down on you, and you feel your resolve slipping. heeseung’s vulnerability, his desperation—it’s overwhelming. you can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way your heart aches at the thought of leaving him behind.

maybe it’s the mansion, with its strange, unearthly hold on you, or maybe it’s heeseung himself—the way he’s embedded himself into your heart, into your very being. either way, the thought of leaving him feels unbearable.

slowly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as he clings to you. “i’ll stay… for now,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of hope and relief. “you will?”

you nod, even as your heart twists with doubt. “just for a little longer.”

the smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost tender, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

but for now, you push it aside. you’ll deal with the consequences of your decision later. right now, you just want to believe that you’re doing the right thing, that staying with heeseung is what’s best.

even if, deep down, you know it might be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

the room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, their flames casting shadows that dance along the walls. the air is thick with the scent of something floral, a heady mix of desire and tension swirling around you as heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. his touch is gentle, worshipping, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.

it feels almost too perfect—like a dream you’re not quite sure you want to wake up from. his hands are on your skin, warm and possessive, and despite everything, despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you feel yourself giving in. his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your body responds to him, melting into his every touch.

heeseung presses you down onto the soft bed, his movements slow and deliberate. there's an intensity in his gaze, a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface ever since you arrived. his eyes never leave yours, and in the flickering light, there’s something primal in the way he looks at you—something that makes your pulse quicken with both anticipation and a strange sense of foreboding.

“i’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers trace the curve of your waist, his lips hovering just above yours. “you have no idea how long…”

his words make your heart stutter, but you push the uneasy feeling aside. this moment feels too intimate, too charged to ruin with questions. you close your eyes as he leans in, kissing you deeply, and for a moment, all your doubts dissolve in the heat of the moment.

heeseung’s hands move with purpose, his touch both tender and possessive, and soon you find yourself swept away by the passion between you. it feels like time has stopped, like the mansion itself has paused its strange, shifting nature to let you have this moment together. his body presses against yours, and the world outside the room seems to blur into nothingness.

as the intensity builds, heeseung’s breath grows heavier, and so does the atmosphere around you. his whispered words become more erratic, laced with a strange urgency. he murmurs your name like a prayer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in low, fervent tones. you try to hold on to the heat between you, to the passion, but there’s something unsettling underneath it all. something you can’t quite put your finger on. the way he touches you—so familiar, like he’s done this before. like you’ve done this before.

as the moment deepens, you’re both lost in each other, but then, somewhere between the whispers and the heat of his skin against yours, heeseung says something that makes your heart stutter.

“you know he was never good enough for you.”

his words are laced with a bitterness that cuts through the intimacy like a knife. your body tenses beneath him, but you don’t fully register the meaning of his words right away. who is he talking about? the thought flashes through your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

still, the words echo, growing louder with each passing second. he? who is he talking about?

your mind begins to wander, to places you’ve been trying to avoid. somewhere deep inside, there’s a flicker of recognition. the inkling of a past lover, a shadowy figure whose face you can’t quite remember but whose presence lingers in your mind. it’s as though there’s something—or someone—you’ve forgotten, buried beneath layers of a life you no longer recall.

heeseung’s lips press against your skin again, pulling you back into the moment, but the unease has already taken root. you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. his words—he was never good enough for you—ring in your ears. but who? who could he mean?

you try to push it away, to focus on the present, but there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere now. the way heeseung touches you, the way his voice wraps around your name—it feels less like adoration and more like possession. and the way he said he—the bitterness, the jealousy—it felt too personal, too pointed.

you close your eyes, trying to lose yourself in the heat of his body, but the unease grows, knotting in your chest. you can’t stop thinking about what he said, about who he might be referring to. you don’t remember anyone else—at least, not fully. yet there’s this nagging feeling, like you’re forgetting something important. or someone.

heeseung seems oblivious to your growing discomfort. his hands roam over you with a kind of desperation now, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. there’s a possessive edge to the way he holds you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that makes your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with passion.

“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “from the beginning.”

the words send a chill through you. from the beginning. it’s a simple phrase, but something about the way he says it—like he’s claiming you, like he’s rewriting your past—makes you uneasy. you don’t know why, but those words feel loaded, like they mean more than he’s letting on.

and then, as he kisses you again, his voice drops to a whisper, soft but chilling: “even before… before him.”

your body goes rigid. there it is again—him. the mystery lover you can’t remember. the one who, according to heeseung, wasn’t good enough for you. the one who existed before heeseung.

your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of memories you don’t have. who is he? and why does heeseung sound so bitter, so possessive, when he talks about him?

you don’t ask the questions that are burning inside you. not yet. you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answers. instead, you let heeseung pull you closer, let him kiss you with that same intensity, but the warmth between you has shifted. there’s something darker in the air now, something unsettling, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the words before him continue to echo in your mind.

later, when the passion has faded and the room has fallen into silence, you lie beside heeseung, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. heeseung’s arm is draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even as if he’s already drifted off into a peaceful sleep. but you can’t rest. not with the weight of his words hanging over you.

he was never good enough for you.

as you lie there, wrapped in heeseung’s arms, the reality of your situation starts to sink in. the mansion, the strange familiarity, the way heeseung acts as though he’s known you forever—it all feels too real, too deliberate. you want to believe that what you have with him is real, but there’s a part of you, buried deep inside, that knows something isn’t right.

something is missing. something from your past, something—or someone—that heeseung isn’t telling you about.

and the scariest part? you’re not sure if you want to remember.

the air feels heavy, pressing down on you as you toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, your mind restless even in sleep. the warmth of heeseung’s presence lingers, but something inside you feels unsettled—his words still echoing in your mind, he was never good enough for you. a cold shiver runs down your spine as you drift deeper into unconsciousness, slipping into the kind of dream that feels far too real.

the room is dark, but something’s wrong—everything feels… different. you sit up slowly, eyes scanning the space. the door that led to the hallway earlier now opens to somewhere else entirely, revealing a long corridor that seems to stretch into nothingness. the walls seem to shift, pulsating like they’re alive, and the low hum of eerie whispers fills the air.

your heart pounds as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the floor beneath your feet feels colder than it should, like ice seeping through the soles of your skin. your instincts scream at you to stay where you are, but something compels you to move, to explore. you walk toward the mirror on the wall, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

but when you look into it, the reflection staring back at you isn’t your own—or at least, not how you recognize yourself. the figure in the mirror is wearing clothes from another time—a long, flowing dress, intricate lace details that seem ancient, out of place in this modern world. you can’t breathe. the woman in the reflection is you, but not you. she looks like you… but she belongs to another life.

a flicker of movement in the mirror catches your attention, and you turn to see heeseung standing in the doorway, his figure bathed in shadows. but this isn’t the heeseung you’ve come to know. the softness in his expression is gone, replaced with something darker, more sinister. his face is cold, almost expressionless, but his eyes—his eyes gleam with something sharp, dangerous.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, lacking the warmth you’ve grown used to. he steps into the room, and the air seems to thicken around you. “i was hoping you’d remember sooner.”

“remember?” you whisper, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “this place, us… none of it is a coincidence. you think you were just passing through? that the mansion drew you in by some strange force?” he laughs, a low, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine. “i brought you here.”

you take a step back, your mind reeling. “what… what do you mean?”

heeseung tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s waiting for you to solve. “this mansion, this cursed place—it’s ours. we built it together. we ran this hotel together. don’t you remember? you and i… we were supposed to live here, forever. but you chose him.”

a cold weight settles in your stomach. flashes of images invade your mind—distant memories you don’t understand, flickering in and out of focus. heeseung standing beside you, both of you smiling. the mansion was alive back then too, bustling with guests, full of life. but something feels wrong, distorted.

you suddenly feel like you’re suffocating, trapped under the weight of something you’re not sure you want to remember. the walls seem to shift again, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. bloodstains appear on the floor beneath you, as though seeping up from the wood itself.

heeseung’s voice pulls you back. “i loved you,” he says softly, stepping closer. his words should feel comforting, but they don’t. there’s a hunger in them, a possessive edge that makes your skin crawl. “but you were going to marry him… sim jake. you never gave me a chance.”

your heart skips a beat. jake. the name pulls at something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to ignore. memories you can’t quite grasp swirl at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to break free. you shake your head, unable to speak, your throat tight.

“i watched you with him,” heeseung continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “watched as you planned a future that didn’t include me. but i couldn’t let it happen. i couldn’t let him take you away.”

the bloodstains grow darker, spreading across the floor. you take another step back, your breath quickening.

and then it hits you—a flash of memory, so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. you’re standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, dressed in that same lace gown from the mirror. jake is beside you, holding your hand, and you’re smiling up at him, heart full of love and excitement for the life you’re about to start together.

but then heeseung appears, his expression twisted in anger, betrayal simmering beneath the surface. and beside him is sunoo, his usually cheerful face cold and calculating. you see the way they look at jake, the silent exchange between them. before you can even process what’s happening, sunoo moves like lightning—his hand coming down in a flash of steel.

blood.

you gasp, your body trembling as you relive the moment. jake’s body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. your scream echoing through the halls, terror and grief crashing into you like a tidal wave.

in the dream—or is it a memory?—you turn, locking eyes with heeseung. you see it in his face, the mix of guilt and satisfaction. he’s done it. he’s made sure jake will never have you. but you… you’re not supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to see it.

heeseung’s lips part as if to speak, but before he can, sunoo moves again. you don’t feel the blade; you just see your own blood spilling onto the floor, mixing with jake’s. heeseung’s yell is heard in the background and then… darkness.

the memory snaps you back to the present with a force that makes you stumble, your hands clutching the edge of the bed as you struggle to breathe. your heart is pounding in your ears, and your vision blurs with tears as the reality of it all sinks in.

you stare at him, your mind reeling. “sunoo killed me…” the words barely escape your lips, your voice trembling. “you… you both… killed us.”

heeseung’s expression hardens. “it was never supposed to end like that. but sunoo—he was afraid. afraid you’d ruin everything. so he—”

“he killed me,” you repeat, the weight of the revelation crashing down on you. “because of you.”

“because i loved you,” heeseung snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with fury. “because i couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him. you were supposed to be mine!”

the room begins to shift, the walls closing in around you, the whispers rising to a deafening roar. you see it all now—how the mansion is tied to you, how it’s always been tied to you. it’s not just a place; it’s a prison. a prison where heeseung, sunoo, and you have been trapped for eternity, bound by the violence and betrayal that happened within its walls.

and heeseung… he’s not the victim he claimed to be. he’s the one who set all of this into motion, the mastermind behind the lies, the manipulation. he brought you back here, trapped you in this cycle, because he refuses to let go. he refuses to let you go.

“you can’t leave,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice soft but laced with something sinister. “not now. not ever.”

your body trembles, fear twisting in your gut. the mansion—the distorted laughter, the bloodstains that won’t fade, the sensation of being watched—it’s all his doing. all part of his twisted game to keep you here, with him, forever.

but now, you remember. and you know the truth.

you wake up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat. the room is filled with the steady sound of heeseung’s breathing, soft and rhythmic as he sleeps beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. but there’s no peace in it for you. your heart races, your mind tangled in a web of fear and confusion after what you just experienced. the images of the dream—or was it a memory?—flash through your mind. heeseung and sunoo killing jake. your own death. the truth about the mansion. it all feels too real, too vivid.

you glance at heeseung's sleeping form. his face is peaceful, innocent even, as if none of the horrors you've just seen could possibly be tied to him. but you know better now. his charm, his warmth, it’s all a mask—a cruel lie.

carefully, you slide out of bed, every movement deliberate, trying not to make a sound. you hold your breath as you tiptoe across the floor, your hands trembling. you don’t dare look back at him, too terrified that he might wake up and catch you. you know that if you stay here any longer, you’ll be trapped forever, just like in your dream. or worse—your nightmare.

you slip out of the room, heart pounding in your ears as you make your way down the dark hallway toward your parents' room. the walls seem to loom larger in the dim light, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision. the mansion feels like it’s alive, watching your every step, waiting for you to fail.

when you reach their door, you knock softly, trying not to panic. “mom, dad,” you whisper urgently. “we need to leave. please, wake up.”

after a moment, your mother opens the door, her face groggy with sleep. "what's going on?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"we need to leave," you repeat, your voice shaking. "something's wrong with this place. please, trust me. we have to go now."

your father stirs awake as well, frowning. "leave? in the middle of the night? what's gotten into you?"

"please," you beg, "i can't explain it right now, but we have to go. meet me outside, okay? just pack your things and meet me at the gates."

they exchange concerned glances but for once, sensing the urgency in your voice, they nod and begin to gather their things. relief washes over you for a brief moment as you make your way down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the mansion’s grand entrance. you're almost there, just a few more steps.

but as you reach the towering iron gates, you’re suddenly pulled back and pinned against the wall. you’re not surprised to see heeseung looming above you, with the most furious look you’ve ever seen on him.

“where do you think you’re going, my love?”, he spits out venomously.

you try to push him away, but to no avail he just grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your chest.

“you lied to me about all of this”, you look at him with betrayal, “you’re nothing but a manipulative liar. you killed us!”

heeseung seems to freeze at that, a look of realisation crossing over his face. he lets out a chuckle in disbelief, staring at you with a dark look.

“you found out then huh. but, you don’t know the full truth, do you?”

you furrow your brows in confusion at that. what was he talking about now?

he smirks at that, letting go of your hands now. “you’ve left me no choice y/n. you did this to yourself.”

with that ominous declaration, he brings his hand up to your forehead. a series of images rapidly flash in front of your eyes, and you immediately blackout.

you’re back in the dream again, but this time it’s different. you see yourself—your past self—walking through the halls of the mansion. the air is warm, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and everything feels… peaceful. you look younger, happier, laughing at something heeseung said. he’s beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both walk through the corridors like you belong there. like this place is yours.

heeseung is smiling at you, but not in the charming, calculated way you’ve come to expect. it’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth and affection. your heart flutters as he leans closer, his voice soft as he speaks. “you always make everything feel right,” he says, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.

you smile back, a soft blush colouring your cheeks, and it hits you—he loved you then too. but you were too caught up in your engagement to jake to see it.

the scene shifts. you’re sitting together, laughing over something, your hand resting on his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. there’s an intimacy between you that makes your stomach twist with unease. this version of you looks so in love with him. you’re touching him like you belong to him.

but that can’t be right. jake was your fiancé. you were going to marry him.

the memory shifts again, this time darker. heeseung leans in, his hand resting on yours for just a moment too long. “if only things were different,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing.

your past self looks away, guilt flashing in your eyes. “i can’t leave him,” you whisper, barely audible. “it wouldn’t be good for my family or us. for the business.”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “but you want to,” he says softly, the words hanging in the air between you like a dangerous secret.

and you… you don’t deny it.

you wake up with a gasp, your heart racing as you bolt upright. your head throbs where as if you were hit, and the confusion of the dream still lingers like a fog in your mind. you’re back in heeseung’s room. alone. sunlight spills in through the curtains which means..

panic floods your veins. you scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor as you rush to the door. you can’t stay here. you have to find your parents and leave before it’s too late.

when you reach the foyer, your breath catches in your throat. your parents are there, bags packed, ready to leave. relief crashes over you like a wave, and you run toward them. “mom! dad! let’s go, we have to—”

but then they turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. your mother tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “who… are you?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean? i’m your daughter! we need to leave, now!”

your father frowns, glancing at your mother, then back at you. “i think you’re mistaken. we don’t have a daughter.”

your laughter bubbles up, but it’s panicked, forced. “what? no, stop. this isn’t funny. we need to go, we need to leave right now!”

suddenly, you feel an arm snake around your waist, pulling you into a strong hold. you freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn to look. heeseung. his smile is charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.

“ah, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, turning to your parents with an amused chuckle. “she likes to play these little pranks sometimes. always such a joker, my wife.”

your parents—no, these strangers—laugh awkwardly, nodding along like everything makes sense. “oh, we see,” your mother—no, not your mother—says with a forced smile.

your blood runs cold. you twist in heeseung’s grip, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. “what have you done?”

heeseung’s smile falters slightly, but he feigns hurt, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “what have i done? darling, i think you’re a little confused.”

you struggle against him, but his grip tightens. "mom! dad! please, it's me! it's your daughter! you have to believe me!"

but they just stare at you, their expressions growing more uncomfortable by the second. your father clears his throat, glancing at heeseung. “i think it’s time for us to go.”

heeseung nods, his smile never wavering. “of course. i’m sorry about all this. she’s been under a lot of stress lately. sunoo,” he calls over his shoulder.

sunoo appears from the shadows, his ever-cheerful grin now twisted into something darker, more malicious. he moves toward you, grabbing your arm with surprising strength. “come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

“no!” you scream, thrashing in sunoo’s hold. “please, you have to remember me! i’m your daughter!”

but your parents—these strangers—just exchange awkward glances before turning away. you all watch them leave, sunoo’s arm still securely around your waist, holding you in place.

you break free from his grip, bolting toward the door screaming for your parents, desperate to escape. but as soon as you reach the threshold, you slam into an invisible barrier. the impact knocks the air from your lungs, and you stumble back, disoriented.

heeseung is behind you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “i told you, didn’t i?” his voice is low, cold. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

tears stream down your face as you push against the barrier, your hands shaking. “what have you done to me? why are you doing this?”

heeseung’s grip tightens, and he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “you think you’re innocent in all of this?” his voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “you think you didn’t know what was happening? you chose me. you were mine long before jake was ever in the picture.”

you shake your head in disbelief. “no, i didn’t… i didn’t—”

sunoo steps closer, a mocking pout on his lips. “oh, sweetheart, you did. you just didn’t want to admit it.” his finger traces the line of your cheek, and you flinch away from him. “you knew about heeseung’s feelings. you used him. and when jake became a problem, you turned a blind eye to it all. you knew we would kill him.” he sighs, “unfortunately, miscommunication led to your demise and we were eventually hanged. and now our souls are cursed to be bound to this mansion for eternity.”

heeseung’s voice lowers, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you’re just as guilty as i am. and now… you’ll suffer with me. for eternity.”

you stand frozen, your mind reeling from heeseung’s words. the weight of the truth, the accusations, presses down on you like a boulder. memories you didn’t even know you had flicker behind your eyes—of stolen glances, secret touches, a forbidden affair. the you from before, so desperate to keep everything intact—your reputation, your future—had made a choice. a terrible, selfish choice.

“no…” you whisper, backing away from heeseung, shaking your head in denial. “that’s not true. i didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” heeseung cuts you off, his voice sharp and cruel now, all traces of tenderness gone. “didn’t love me? didn’t lead me on while you paraded around with him?” he spits the last word like it’s poison. “you knew exactly what you were doing. you wanted to have it both ways, and when i couldn’t stand it any longer, you let me kill jake because it was easier for you.”

the room spins as his words hit you like a tidal wave. you feel sick, your stomach twisting in knots. but even as the guilt rises in your throat, something inside you resists. “i didn’t… i didn’t want that…” you stammer, but your voice is weak, and the look in heeseung’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t believe you. maybe you don’t even believe yourself.

he steps closer, his eyes dark and filled with anger and betrayal. “you were mine, always mine. but you just had to keep playing your little games, didn’t you? you thought you could control everything. but look where it’s gotten us.”

you stumble backward, hitting the invisible barrier once again. this time it feels like it’s closing in on you, trapping you not just physically but mentally, emotionally. “i didn’t want anyone to die!” you shout, your voice cracking as the tears blur your vision. “i didn’t want this!”

sunoo chuckles softly from the corner, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. “well, that’s a nice story,” he says, voice light and mocking. “but none of us are getting out of here. not you, not me, not heeseung.” he crosses the room, his eyes gleaming with malice as he moves toward you. “you see, you set all of this in motion. you thought you could control us, control your fate, but now you’ll be trapped here just like us.”

heeseung’s grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you can feel his desperation, his anger, boiling over. “you’re not leaving, no matter how hard you try. this mansion, this curse, it’s our prison. and now it’s yours, too. we’re all in this together, for eternity.”

the word “eternity” sends a fresh wave of panic through your veins. “no!” you scream, thrashing in his grip, desperate to break free. “i won’t stay here! i won’t!”

but heeseung only tightens his hold on you, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and possessiveness. “you will stay,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “you belong to me. you always have.”

sunoo steps beside heeseung, his gaze cold and detached as he watches your struggle. his mocking smile only deepens the pit of dread in your stomach. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?” sunoo says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “after all, you did help put us in this mess. you turned a blind eye to what heeseung did. and now…” he trails his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of fear down your spine. “you’ll pay for that mistake.”

you shake your head wildly, trying to back away, but the barrier prevents any escape. “please, no!” you beg, your voice breaking as you sob. “i didn’t know… i didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

but heeseung’s grip is unrelenting. he pulls you closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he watches you unravel. “it doesn’t matter now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. “your parents don’t remember you anymore and we’re bound together, all of us. the mansion, the curse, it’s our fate. and now it’s yours, too.”

as his words sink in, you feel the weight of your past bearing down on you. the memories, the guilt, the betrayal—it’s all too much. you collapse against the invisible barrier, tears streaming down your face as you realise the full extent of what’s happened. you’re trapped. trapped with heeseung and sunoo in this mansion, cursed to live out eternity in this twisted nightmare.

heeseung kneels down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a cruel tenderness. “it’s better this way,” he whispers. “now you can’t leave me. you’ll never leave me again.”

you choke back a sob, shaking your head. “i never wanted this… i never wanted to hurt anyone…”

heeseung’s lips curl into a dark smile. “but you did,” he says softly. “and now, you’ll live with that guilt forever.”

sunoo crouches beside heeseung, his gaze filled with mock pity as he watches you break down. “look on the bright side,” he says with a smirk. “at least you won’t be lonely. you’ll have us… forever.”

the finality of their words crashes over you like a wave, and as you look into heeseung’s cold, possessive eyes, you realise there’s no escape. you’re trapped in this mansion, bound to heeseung and sunoo for all eternity, forced to relive the mistakes of your past life in an endless cycle of torment.

with a sinking heart, you realise that heeseung was right all along. you’ve always been his. and now, you’ll never be free.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

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kwanisms · 6 months ago

Text

Dinner & Dessert — c.jh

«« previous | ateez masterlist | next »»

➮ virgin!Jongho × experienced!Reader wc: 3.6k summary: Jongho takes Y/N out on a nice dinner date but they decide to have dessert back at Y/N's dorm room. genres/themes/au: light fluff, smut; best friends to lovers (bff2l), college setting; non idol au, bff au, college au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, reader is smaller than Jongho, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special tags: @bro-atz permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @suveilenceysystem @salty-for-suga @simeonswhore @yangracha @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @chocolate-scoups @ayoo-bangtan @walkingtravesty97 @yevene @certifiedmoa @nottkwiwin @juskz ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @starlitmark @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny @ateezstanforever @justiny @jeongwangjessmina @lacie220900 @aaaaajonghooooo @dementedaly @confusedmoonchild777 @burnsmepls @nebulousbookshelf

join my taglist! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry it's taken so long to get this out but here's the next part of the Jongho Corruption Kink Miniseries. Thank you to Bro for reading this for me cause I wasnt sure if it was any good. I don't have much else to say about this other than I cranked this out in a couple hours so I hope you like it! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: oral (f & m receiving), cum swallowing, praise (m receiving), slight body worship (f receiving), corruption kink, pussy drunk Jongho (man gets one taste and just goes feral), mild face fucking (f receiving), deepthroating, use of pet names (hers: baby, babe, angel; his: babe, baby), light fingering (f receiving), and I think that's all? Lemme know if I missed any!

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“I want you to teach me how to give oral.”

The words had caught you off guard as soon as they left your best friend boyfriend’s lips. Your lips parted in shock as you let the noodles from your meal slip off your fork while you fixed him with an incredulous stare.

Quickly, you glanced around before leaning in and meeting his gaze.

“We are in public, Jongho!” you hissed. He said nothing, merely blinking back at you like he hadn’t just said something inherently sexual and inappropriate for dinner conversation.

Not that you were opposed to this kind of behavior, you just didn’t expect it from your virgin best friend boyfriend. From you? Definitely but from him? Unexpected, but welcomed.

Ever since teaching him how to properly finger you, you’d seen an uptick in his eagerness and willingness to initiate sexual intimacy. Of course you’d never gone past touching one another as you didn’t want to pressure Jongho into doing anything he wasn’t ready for.

Clearly, he was ready for more.

“So?” he muttered, glancing down at his plate and back up as you set your utensil down and picked up your napkin. This was the last thing you expected when he asked you out for dinner.

Jongho had texted you right after class and asked if you wanted to get dinner. You initially had expected him to bring take out over, a pizza or some other favorite place but instead, he told you to be ready to leave in an hour and told you to dress up.

It wasn’t entirely like him to be so assertive but since you started seeing each other (among other things), Jongho’s confidence had seen a huge boost and you like to think you had a hand in that although you knew it was entirely on him.

He’d shown up to your dorm looking less like your chaste best friend boyfriend and was instead oozing every ounce of sex appeal you knew he had. The ride to the restaurant had been silent mostly but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest and you were thankful that he was distracted by driving as it gave your eyes the chance to wander and appreciate everything they could take in.

Jongho had gone beyond your expectations, going so far as to make a reservation, meaning he had to have been planning this for at least a week. You were beyond impressed by his efforts. You remembered a conversation the two of you had a week or so ago where he assured you that what you had was more than just the physical stuff to him. He wanted more and you did, too. It was just hard to keep your hands to yourself sometimes.

So when he suddenly sprang this on you, to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Your lips threatened to turn into a smirk before you spoke.

“Well, at least you’re taking me out to dinner first,” you mused, making Jongho look down at his plate as the hostess walked by, guiding a couple to another table. He looked back up to meet your gaze. “So will you?” he asked softly, eyes shining with a curiosity that was both adorable but also played into your more carnal desire to corrupt your virginal boyfriend in every way possible.

You lifted your wine glass slowly, taking a sip and maintaining eye contact, setting it back down before answering him. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” you asked. Jongho inhaled and exhaled slowly before nodding fervently. You admired how hard he tried to keep his composure but you could tell under the facade, he was eager to have you under him again.

‘Cute.’

Jongho would be a liar if he said he wasn’t eager to have you under him again. Ever since he’d made you come with just his fingers, he’d wondered what it’d be like to have you come undone on his tongue. He thought about it far more than he cared to admit even to himself.

Ever since that first night, months ago, when you made him come in his pants, he’d been insatiable. Knowing you wanted him as much as he wanted you and then some gave him a much needed confidence boost. Sure, this relationship was about more than just sex but no one could blame him for wanting to be intimate with his best friend girlfriend.

As he held your gaze, hoping you’d say yes to his proposal, you toyed with your fork, no doubt contemplating his words rather than if you wanted to continue eating. He hoped you’d say yes. He was about to beg (not like he wasn’t entirely above it. Not when he was dying to get a taste) when you smiled that lovely smile that always managed to give him butterflies, make his brain turn to mush, and his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, he was down so bad.

Before you could respond, the server returned to the table and Jongho took the opportunity to end the night. “Could we get the check please?” he asked. The server nodded before looking between the two of you. “Were we thinking of any dessert?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly, thanking him before he nodded and walked away to get your bill.

“We’ve got dessert at home.”

No sooner than you were back in your dorm did Jongho have your door shut, locked your back pressed against it, lips on yours as his hands wandered, grabbing the material of your dress and slowly bunching it up past your thighs. “Jjongie,” you murmured as his lips left yours to trail kisses down the side of your neck. “We should probably take these off,” you added, trying to undo the button on your jacket.

Jongho let out an animalistic growl, grabbing your hands and pinning them against the wall.

“I’m getting to it,” he mumbled, lips attaching to your neck once more but his hands keeping your wrists firmly against the wood of your door. “Well hurry up,” you teased as you tried to pull against his hold on your wrists. To your surprise, Jongho gave in easily, letting go of your wrists and opting instead to fumble with the buttons of your jacket.

Once he managed to undo them, the fabric just seemed to slide off you as your own hands worked quickly to unzip his own jacket and push it off him. You felt his hands trying to pull at your dress, a silent plea to remove it but you had other plans, instead taking a temporary lead and guiding him to your bed only for him to gently but firmly push you down onto it.

Before he could guide you further back, you grabbed him by the hips, holding him steady as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Let me take care of you first, baby,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper but more than loud enough in the silence of your dorm room for him to hear.

Wordlessly, Jongho’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin and down over your bottom lip. “A-are you sure?” he asked nervously. You smiled up at him, not breaking eye contact as you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “Yes,” you whispered again.

“I’m sure.”

It didn’t take you long to pull his pants down just enough to expose his hard cock, hidden in the confines of his underwear. You carefully pressed your palm against it, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his boxers. You heard him inhale sharply and fought the urge to smirk. You’ve barely touched him and yet he was so responsive. You felt a small surge of pride over being able to have such an effect on him merely by touching him over his underwear.

Not wanting to keep him, or yourself, waiting, you ran your hand up, tucking the tips of your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulling the material down until his cock sprang free, standing proudly and waiting for you to touch.

Tearing your gaze away from Jongho’s temporarily, you wrapped your hand around the base and gave him a tentative stroke, enjoying the way he let out a whimper. As much as you wanted to tease him about it, you chose not to, wanting to make him feel good.

Parting your lips, you took him by surprise by taking him into your mouth without any warning, making him gasp, one of his hands moving to your head, fingers tightening slightly in your hair. “Shit,” he hissed, breath already coming out raggedly.

Oh how you wanted to tease him for it so badly. Falling apart so quickly. ‘Another time.’

You sank slowly, taking more and more of him in your mouth, the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. He tried to focus on his breathing, trying to keep his composure no doubt but you knew his resolve would crumble the moment you started bobbing your head.

And crumble it did.

No sooner than you started moving, did he let out a loud moan. Almost too loud. If anyone had been walking by your room at that exact moment, there would be no doubt in their mind what was going on behind the door. Not that you’d mind. You really didn’t care what your dorm neighbors thought.

The only thing that mattered was that your boyfriend, your oh-so-sweet and innocent boyfriend, was in your room, cock in your mouth, and the eagerness to learn how to please you after you got him off. It seemed only fair to show him what you could do first before teaching him what to do.

A preemptive reward if you will.

Each bob of your head had Jongho choking back a moan, resisting the urge to bite his fist to muffle the sounds even more than he was. You pulled back, his cock falling from your tongue to look up at him. Your hand took over temporarily as you looked up at him and spoke.

“Don’t hold back,” you said, voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t care who hears you.”

Jongho shook his head. “I don’t want your neighbors to complain,” he whispered, stifling a groan as your hand worked him even more. “Fuck them” you retorted. “I want to hear how good I make you feel, baby,” you added. Jongho studied your face for a moment, contemplating whether he should just toss his inhibitions aside but the decision was made for him when you took him back in your mouth, letting out an unrestrained moan.

You felt a swell of pride in your chest as you moved, each unrestrained moan a dulcet melody to your ears. You continued to move, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back. Glancing up, you met his heated gaze, and felt that distinct throb between your legs. “Babe,” he moaned, gently stroking your hair. “Let me—” whatever he was about to say faltered as he let out a whine, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You barely gave him a chance to recover as you sank further, taking his cock further until the head rested just in the back of your throat. Jongho let out a choked moan as you swallowed around him. “Fuck, baby, wait,” Jongho gasped, cock twitching in your mouth. You pulled back and looked up at him.

“I was about to cum,” he panted, making you smirk. “That’s the goal,” you said softly, licking your lips. “Just, give me a moment,” Jongho said breathlessly and you nodded, watching him regulate his breathing. The silence was punctuated only by his ragged breathing.

“Uhm, Y/N?” he finally spoke. You looked up at him. “Hmm?”

“Could I… try something?” His voice sounded so soft and full of curiosity. How could you deny his genuine curiosity? You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“Of course,” you replied sweetly. “What would you like to try?”

Of course, at that moment, your sweet boyfriend’s words failed him. “I-I… I w-wanted to…” You smiled up at him. “Take your time,” you cooed. “I’m not going anywhere. And don’t feel embarrassed for asking for anything. I’m happy to let you try anything you—”

“Could I fuck your face?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh,” you said softly, caught off guard. Jongho’s face flushed in the low light of your room. “S-sorry,” he muttered quickly. “F-forget I said anything!” He started to pull his underwear up but you stopped him. “I told you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about, babe,” you said softly.

“If you want to try that, we certainly can.”

Jongho stared at you, eyes widening as you tugged his pants and underwear back down. “R-really?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. ‘Cute.’ You nodded, a smile ever present on your face.

“Of course,” you replied. “If I tap your thigh twice, that means stop, okay?” you asked. He nodded excitedly. You licked your lips before parting them and allowing him to guide the head of his cock into your mouth. You breathed in slowly and nodded, letting him know you were ready.

The first thrust was shallow, almost as if he was testing the waters. You nodded again. He gave you another shallow thrust. You pulled back quickly. “Don’t worry about me,” you said softly. “Just go for it. I’ll stop you if I need to.”

The moment his cock was back in your mouth, Jongho did as you said and went for it. One hand held your head in place, giving you a few tentative thrusts before just letting go. Each thrust had the tip hitting the back of your throat, making lewd sounds fill the room.

Jongho’s hand moved to the back of your head and you were taken by surprise as he pushed your head further, forcing the head of his cock into the back of your throat. You gagged, despite trying to fight it but he didn’t let up. Instead, he gave you another thrust, pushing further into your throat.

“Oh shit,” you heard him curse. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue and before he could pull you off him, you grabbed his hips, holding him firmly in place. “F-fuck, I’m gonna—”

His words were cut off by a moan as he came, load spilling down your throat. You held him still until you were sure he was done before pulling back, coughing slightly. “Oh shit, are you okay, angel?” Jongho asked quickly, taking your face in his hands and inspecting your face. You smiled at him.

“More than okay,” you answered, carefully pulling his underwear back up over his softening cock and zipping up his pants. Jongho pulled you into a kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue.

“Lie back,” he muttered against your lips, leaning over you as he spoke. You scooted backwards on your bed as Jongho climbed over you, lips pressing against yours as his hand bunched your dress up against your hip. “Can I remove this?” he asked softly. You nodded, letting out a soft giggle as his fingers skimmed against your bare skin as he hiked your dress up.

“Wait,” you said softly, grabbing his hands. Jongho looked up, meeting your gaze. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, searching your face. You cupped his cheek tenderly. “Take your time,” you muttered. “Don’t rush things.”

Jongho nodded, letting your dress fall against the bed, exposing only below your navel, giving him full view of your red lace panties. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. “You’re going to be the death of me, babe.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a smile as Jongho pressed a couple chaste kisses against your collar before glancing up at you, his hands slowly sliding down your chest, cupping your breasts briefly.

“I know I’m supposed to be learning to give oral,” he started, looking back up at you. “But could I please, take this off? Please, baby, please,” he murmured. “I really just wanna see your beautiful body.”

Hearing the compliment from him made your cheeks grow warm. “Another time, okay? Let’s focus on the lesson,” you replied. Jongho sighed and nodded, slowly kissing down your body over the material of your dress until he reached your stomach. He looked up to meet your gaze.

“Now what?” he asked. “Take your time,” you started. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing.”

Without another word, you stifled a giggle as his kisses tickled your skin. “Should I take these off?” he asked, fingers toying with the lace of your panties. You nodded. “Go ahead.”

You lifted your hips as Jongho pulled the fabric down, removing them and tossing them aside. “Do I just…” he trailed off. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing. You’ve touched me before, if you want to start with that, I’m fine with that. I just want you to be comfortable,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as Jongho looked up at you from between your thighs.

“Or I could just…” he trailed off, spreading your lips before giving you a light lick, tongue flat against your clit. “Yeah,” you said breathily as he dove back in. “You could do that, too.”

“Remember what I told you before. Focus on the cli— ah!” you gasped as you felt his tip of his tongue pass over your clit, already sensitive from not getting any attention earlier. “Like that?” he asked, peeking at you as you fell back against the bed. “Y-yeah, like that,” you answered.

Jongho gave you a cheeky smile which you didn’t see and went back to it, diving back in. Each pass of his tongue over your aching clit had you moaning, the backs of your thighs resting against his shoulders as he buried his face between your legs.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” you asked between moans, one hand moving down to tangle in his dark locks. “Cause it sure seems like you know what you’re doing.” Jongho hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the pleasure. “I’m sure,” he finally managed to get out, licking his lips. “If I had, I think we’d already be past this,” he added.

“Oh?” you asked, lifting your head. “Where would we be, then?”

Jongho pulled back, slowly caressing your thigh. “With you on your stomach, my cock buried in your pussy,” he replied nonchalantly. Your jaw fell slack, surprised at the sudden surge of confidence exuding from your boyfriend. “Should we skip oral and go straight to that or—?” you asked, resisting the urge to smirk when Jongho frowned at you.

“No,” he answered. “I want to learn this,” he continued. You reached to take his chin in your hand. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on it,” you complimented. “But by all means, keep going. Make me cum all over that handsome face.”

Jongho didn’t wait for another invitation, pulling you to meet his face, his tongue continuing its assault on your clit. You’d had partners go down on you before but none of them had ever been this eager. It was like once he’d gotten a taste, there was no stopping Jongho until you came, which you weren’t complaining about, not when you were being pushed to the edge every time he kissed, licked, or sucked. You wondered if he’d watched something or read something for pointers.

Maybe that’s what spurred this whole thing on. Had he been doing ‘homework’ so to speak? And he wanted to take this next step and prove himself to you? Whatever his motivation, you weren’t sure nor could you care when your thighs were threatening to squeeze around his head.

“That’s it,” you gasped, resisting the urge to grind against his tongue. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

The praise did wonders for Jongho’s ego and it showed as his actions became more confident, making your back arch off the mattress as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Close,” you muttered. “I’m so close.” You heard him hum and felt two fingers toying with your slit before sinking into you.

Where the fuck did he learn that? No, when did he learn that? “Oh fuck, keep going, baby. You’re doing so good. How are you so good at this?” you hissed as his fingers curled inside you, pushing you over the edge and you gasped out a warning that you were about to cum.

You were grateful your boyfriend was so strong or you might have crushed his head. Instead, he held your thighs open as your orgasm washed over you, your hips moving to ride out your high until your body shook from overstimulation. “Okay, baby, that’s good,” you said breathlessly.

Jongho wiped his lips and chin on the back of his hand and grinned at you, clearly proud of his work. “How was that?” he asked, sounding just as proud as he looked. You lightly slapped his hand on your thigh and chuckled. “You passed. You got an A in fact.”

Jongho climbed over you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “An A, huh?” he asked softly. You hummed, nodding in response. “Hmm,” he murmured, giving you another kiss.

“How would I go about getting some extra credit then?”

Your eyes opened and looked up at him. “Extra credit?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Jongho said softly, kissing you again, one of his hands sneaking between your bodies.

“Gotta turn that A into an A plus somehow.”

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#cultofdionysusnet #ksmutsociety #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jongho scenarios #jongho imagines #jongho fanfiction #jongho fanfic #jongho smut #jongho x reader

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formulawolff · 2 months ago

Text

i. girls like u - t.w.

pairing: reserve female!driver x toto wolff

word count: 2.1k

warnings: morally gray individuals, slow burn, sexual content (intercourse), allusions to sexual content, cursing, marijuana use, references to alcohol use, lots of power imbalance, questionable boss x employee dynamics, light toxicity

a/n: ok this is my semi-return to tumblr after a writing hiatus. this fic is loosely based off of you by the 1975 and several blackbear songs. sorry if this shit is ass. i promise there is more world-building to come in the next chapters (it's been a while since i've wrote somethin' longer than 500 words) lemme know if y'all like it! i missed y'all! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆:

“aren’t you tired?”

fingertips brush along your back, light and gentle. stirring, you blink, stifling a yawn and you nuzzle into the warmth.

it’s inviting, your lids drooping the moment the tip of your nose brushes along heated skin. a plush comforter shrouds your body, limbs entwined. watery rays of light peek in through drawn blinds, promising of dawn.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆:

“you wore me out. of course i’m tired.”

there’s a rumble in his chest, adam’s apple bobbing as he chuckles, “no, that’s not what i meant.”

“then what did you mean?” bringing your chin upward, your gaze locks with his.

he flinches slightly at the harshness of your inquiry, a crimson hue tinging his cheeks, “i-i don’t really know. i-i guess i meant to ask if you were tired of watching everyone compete from the paddock. don’t you want to race as well?”

don’t you want to race as well?

of course i do. every single fucking grand prix i pray that i’ll finally get a chance to be behind the wheel.

to prove to everyone that i’m just as worthy of a competitor as lewis or george. that i am capable of finishing a race.

i pray that i finally get a chance to prove that i’m a champion.

inhaling sharply, your head falls, avoiding any sort of eye contact, “i mean, yeah. of course i want to race. i want to compete just as much as you do, max.”

“i’m sorry if–”

“it’s fine,” you murmur, finding your body clinging to him, head nestling into his chest underneath the covers, “can we just go back to sleep or–”

he exhales, lips connecting with your temple. they trail along your brow bone, placing gentle kisses all the way down to your cheeks, “you know we can’t. it’s qualifying today.”

“right.” your jaw clenches, “there’s nothing more important than qualifying.”

“hey,” fingers grasp your chin, “are you okay?”

“yup,” you nod, “i’m great.”

concern lingers, swimming in his icy blue depths. his tongue darts out, swiping along his lower lip, “you and i both know that’s a lie.”

shrugging, your lips pucker, “maybe i’m just not looking forward to watching everyone chase their dreams while i’m forced to sit on the sidelines.”

in that moment, you sense his demeanor shift. max softens, his muscles relaxing as a hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone, “you know, we could change that.”

your heart thuds, pounding as blood roars in your ears, “how?”

he leans in, his mouth nearly millimeters from yours, “i could pull some strings.”

“and how would you accomplish that?”

max’s voice is low as he continues, his tone laced with a dominance that you rarely heard beyond radios, interviews, or press conferences. it was quite the contrast than the max you were used to. it had you absolutely reeling, scrambling to maintain your composure as a shiver ran down your spine.

“i could speak with christian, put in a good word for you. there’s a lot of change that’s going to come within these next few months. checo hasn’t resigned quite yet. the contract isn’t finalized there’s still time to get you in at red bull.”

“y-you would do that for me?”

the dutch driver nods, a little too fervently.

“i would do anything for you.”

there was a sincerity in his words, almost as if it was a promise. a sure one, at that. a promise brimmed with a passion that you could only describe as one emotion.

love.

you had him right where you wanted him.

max verstappen, three-time world champion of formula one, was right at your fingertips. the dutch assassin was poised and eager, ready to fire as soon as he was given the word.

all you had to do was say yes.

that’s all you had to do. utter those nine words.

i want to be with you at red bull. i want to be in that second seat.

yet, there was one thing holding you back.

well, more so a culmination of things.

one, there was that ever-present gnawing, nagging feeling. the guilt was slowly eating you alive, threatening to spill your precious secret at any given moment. two, there was that fear of the unknown. what would happen if you managed to pull this off? would you truly be happy at red bull or were you just trying to worm your way to the top? would that shiny trophy really be worth it if you weren’t fulfilled?

and well most importantly, the third aspect of it all. would you be able to keep up the facade that you were just friends with max verstappen? it was only a matter of time before your relationship with the dutch driver would come from the shadows and into the light.

it was so much easier to keep things under wraps when no one paid attention to you.

“max,” you begin, “maybe we should–”

the shrill ring of his phone pierces through the air. leaning over, he plucks the device off the nightstand, grimacing as his eyes scan the contact.

“it’s christian.”

“what time is it?” you press, “surely it’s not that la–”

“baby, it’s well past eight.”

“shit.” you shoot up, peeling the comforter off, “why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

max follows in suit, shoving a leg through his pants, “cause we were in the middle of an important conversation. i wasn’t going to just interrupt you to tell you i had to leave. that wouldn’t have been fair to you!”

“right,” you scoff, throwing on a hoodie, “you don’t have to act like i’m more important than racing. you live, breathe, eat, and sleep formula one. and i understand tha–”

lips collide with yours, the kiss nearly sucking the breath out of your lungs. it’s fiery, blazing with hunger as your knees buckle. max pulls away, panting ever so slightly.

“don’t you ever fucking say that. you hear me?”

“yes.”

shaking his head, he makes his way across the room, smoothing out a wrinkle in his jersey before slipping on a shoe, “you mean the world to me. we can talk more about this later, but i really have to go. christian is blowing up my phone asking where i am. fuck. i really hope that no one sees me. do you have a hoodie or something i can borrow?”

crossing over to your makeshift closet, you file through the hangers, pulling a garment off. tossing the sweatshirt to max, you can’t help but giggle at his haphazard state.

his blonde locks are all over, clearly ruffled from a long night. his clothes are wrinkly, bunched up from being thrown to the floor. the only saving grace is his red bull cap, along with the hoodie you just provided.

however, the moment he sees the embroidered logo, he rolls his eyes.

“really?”

“just make sure you take it off before you see christian. and put on some deodorant when you get the chance. you stink,” wrinkling your nose, you blow the dutch driver a kiss as he waves you off.

yet, he catches the airborne smooch, returning the gesture, “i’ll text you later baby. i lo– i have to really go now. have a good day, all right?”

“i’ll try my best,” you reply, buttoning a pair of jeans, “you know i won’t be doing much.”

“goodbye love!” his voice carries down the hall as he exits your motorhome, the sound of the door echoing throughout the space.

well, so much for making progress.

there’s a buzz in your pocket, stealing your focus for just a second.

fishing your phone out, your brow furrows. no one really contacted you in the mornings. well, unless it was an emergency or an urgent matter.

it was a text message, from a sender you were well acquainted with.

it was none other than sir lewis hamilton. eight-time world champion. one of the greatest athletes of all time.

who just happened to be your fellow teammate. well, fellow teammate and best friend.

who knew that formula one contracts came with a package deal like that?

where art thou, sweet girl? i fear that our team principal is going absolutely mad because you are running very behind. pls hurry before he starts going in on me for being on my phone during a team briefing.

your thumbs glide across the screen, crafting a careful response.

sorryyyyyy. running late per usual. perks of being in the reserve, right? i’ll be there in like five minutes.

the reply was instant, phone vibrating once more.

hurry up. toto is pissed.

gritting your teeth, you shove your phone back into your pocket. luckily, you had packed your go-bag for race weekends the night before. well, before you got preoccupied with max. slipping on a heavier coat, you push through your bedroom door, making your way down the hall.

exiting your motorhome, you spin on your heel, throwing up the hood as you navigate through the endless maze of the paddock.

you would think after six months you would know your way around by now.

members of the crew and hospitality chirp greetings and good mornings, earning a mumble here and there in response. graciously, you accept a wellness shot from one of the hosting staff, in hopes that it would perk you up just a tad.

eventually, you nudge open the door of the briefing room, keeping your head ducked as you settle into your designated seat, lewis spotting you. from across the space, he shoots you a thumbs up, paired with a precious grin, dimples and all.

the second you slide on your headphones, a voice floods your ears.

it’s brassy and gruff, thick with annoyance, brimmed with that accent you were all too familiar with.

“good morning, hase. i’m so glad that you could take the time out of your busy schedule and join us this morning.”

it was none other than toto wolff, team principal of mercedes amg petronas.

your boss.

looking up, you notice him to your far right, perched in his seat. his gaze is lasered in on you, almost piercing. with his brows furrowed and lips wound tightly shut, you couldn’t quite distinguish the emotion plastered across his features.

was it anger? disappointment? sheer and utter regret?

“good morning, toto,” you grumble, heat flooding your cheeks as snickers bubble up from all around.

“as i was saying,” toto clears his throat, “i think that we need a new approach for the remainder of the weekend. clearly george isn’t feeling up to par, so we need to explore our options.”

“i could drive,” george russell, your other teammate coughs, “i want to ra–”

“i don’t think pushing you to your limit is an intelligent idea,” toto cuts in. the words are firm, the team principal continuing, “let’s face it, with ferrari and mclaren in the mix this season, we are desperate for points. we need to make a strong move this weekend or else we are going to fall behind. even more so than we already are.”

the voices trail off as your mind wanders, your focus dissipating by the second. typically, you never paid too much attention to the briefings anyway. after all, they did not pertain to you. they usually were directed at the engineers, strategists, george, and lewis.

not like you needed to really pay attention too closely. you were just kind of there. a body in the room.

the backup plan.

fuck, did that absolutely torture you. so much potential wasted. all of your blood, sweat, and tears poured into nearly two decades of racing just to end up fiddling with a loose thread of your hoodie as a room full of men bickered about who would fill a fucking seat.

some fall from grace this was. the 2023 formula two champion reduced to a reserve driver simply because no other team would take her.

after all, you couldn’t really complain too much. this was the life you chose. you were the one who ultimately made the choice to sign to mercedes for a two-year contract.

after all, it was your dream to drive for mercedes.

“here’s what we should do,” toto’s voice seeps into your headphones once more, snapping you out of your dazed state, “we should utilize our reserve driver. what is the point of having a reserve driver and not utilizing her?”

“toto,” bono’s voice chimes in, “i’m not sure if–”

“bono,” the fierceness in lewis’ tone takes you aback, “this is what’s best for the team. as a whole. we cannot give it our all if we don't have healthy drivers.”

“george,” toto turns to the british driver, “what do you think? do you have any input?”

“i don’t disagree,” george shrugs, the words hoarse, “i want to be healthy for saudi arabia.”

“then it’s settled,” the team principal shifts towards you, his lips curling into a smug smirk as his arms fold across his chest.

“i think that it’s time for our little hase here to really show us what she is capable of.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆:

taglist: @sweetjellyfishland @ts1m1kas @bxuzi @racecardilfs

lemme know if you would like to be tagged for future chapters! <3

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfiction #mercedes amg petronas #lewis hamilton #oracle red bull racing #toto wolff fanfiction

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wonderlandwalker · 8 months ago

Text

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it.

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch.

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything.

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to.

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone.

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned.

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment.

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue.

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of.

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too"

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go"

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him.

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it.

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat.

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him.

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

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youraverageaemondsimp · 10 months ago

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Secrets behind the curtain. // Actor!Aemond Targaryen x Manager!Reader || MODERN AU

Summary: Aemond takes out his frustration of losing an award on you.

WARNINGS: mdni, dubious consent, p in v sex, unprotected sex, tiddy sucking, degradation, dacryphilia, car (it's a limousine) sex, slightly dark!aemond, riding, messy sex, power imbalance, rigged award show, + not proofread, please lemme know if I missed any.

WC: 1.7K

A/N: I cooked this while trynna complete my other wips like bro 😭 adhd be like 😋 also this isn't dark enough to be tagged under mae:dark!content but it does contain dubious consent (reader is implied to find the situation inappropriate to fuck) so yeah, a heads up // divider creds: @cafekitsune

“And the best actor award goes to…” The host trails off, leaving room for suspense and Aemond leans back relaxed on his chair, knowing that he would be winning.

“Jason Lannister!”

As the host announces the name, your blood runs cold, you notice Aemond twitch slightly in his seat, he shoots you a glare and you look down at your feet.

Aemond watches in anger as Jason goes up the stage and collects the award, “That asshole isn't even that good at acting.” He scoffs and you swallow, “Aemond, the cameras.” you whisper and he rolls his eyes, putting on a fake expression of a smile, as though he's happy that Jason won, but you know the truth.

After this award, a small break was given to artists to freshen up, redo their makeup, or relieve themselves, but for Aemond that wasn't the case, “We're leaving.” He tells you and you look at him in shock, “But- the award show hasn't ended yet? If we live now, the press might notice and create articles on how you left right after you lost.” You reason, trying to catch up to Aemond as he was making his way through the alleyway, reaching his limousine which was parked behind the building, he checked the area for any press before he turned to face you.

“And whose fault was that? You brought me here, saying that I would win, look what happened now.” He grabs you by your cheeks roughly and you swallow thickly, “You were supposed to win! The judges evaluated that your performance was better but the Lannisters might've played foul.” You tried to reason but he scoffs, making his way over to the limousine and getting in.

“Where the fuck is the driver?” He asks you, when he sees you getting inside along with him, and you shrug, “He probably went to take a break– but Aemond please, your image will be ruined if you leave now.” You beg, yet he remains quiet and sits down, you shut the door behind you and sit down as well, awkward silence filling up the air.

There was no convincing Aemond once he made up his mind, so you dialled the drivers number but he didn't pick up, and you took this as a sign to persuade Aemond one last time, as if he'll suddenly change his mind even though he refused multiple times.

“Aemond, the press will write about how you were upset that you didn't win and left right after, besides that isn't the only award you are nominated for, you are also nominated for best character in the series, which will take place after this break.” You tell him calmly and he scoffs, “Yeah, just so i can lose that award too right?” He glares at you, and you shut up.

You sigh to yourself, knowing that you'd have to be the one dealing with damage control, Otto and Alicent would not be pleased, considering how Aemond had already once gotten into a controversy for taunting his nephews at an award show, questioning their birth indirectly.

You are about to dial the driver's number once again before your phone is yanked off from your grip, your hand is then grabbed and you stumble forward into Aemond arms.

He wastes no time in unbuttoning your shirt revealing your bra, he untucks your shirt and pulls it off you, throwing it on the ground and then begins mouthing at your breast, and kissing on your neck.

“Aemond— we can't right now—” You try to protest but he interrupts you, “Shut the fuck up.” He grits his teeth and you immediately obey.

He pushes you down onto the seat and pulls your pants off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and feeling vulnerable.

You open your mouth to protest again but he slams his lips against you, leaving you unable to speak. The kiss is aggressive, hungry and anger filled, he bites your lip enough to make it painful but not to draw blood, and you whine into the kiss. His hands roam up your body and he finds your breasts, squeezing them tightly and mostly aggressively.

He pulls away and begins to undo his own pants, unbuckling belt and pulling his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard and leaking cock, he unbuttons his shirt slightly, feeling hot.

Your panties are pulled off in an instant and thrown to where the rest of your clothes are, same with your bra, you grip the edge of slim seats to not fall off when he grabs your legs and spreads them wide, before leaning forward and causing your knees to push up against your chest.

He spits on your cunt, his hands now holding the underside of your knees, he lets one of them in order to line his cock up against your entrance before going back to the underside of your knees again.

You gasp when his cock stretches your walls, throwing your head back in pleasure, Aemond doesn't waste any moment and begins to ram harshly into your cunt and you bite your lip to prevent noises from coming out.

“Fucking slut, look at how wet you've become.” He says harshly, his hips thrusting in and out at a fast pace, he grabs your arms and pins them upwards, “'Foul play' you say? It doesn't matter how much money they've spent, you should've spent more.” He grits his teeth, still remembering your words from earlier. “B-but that wouldn't be fair–” You are cut off with a light slap to your cheek, before he grips it tightly, “Fair? Who cares about fairness? Look what happened now.” He spits in your mouth.

You swallow, knowing you have no choice, a small smirk forms on his lips at what you've done, likely satisfied with your behaviour.

But soon he remembers that this situation didn't occur because he simply wanted to fuck his favourite woman like all the other times, no, he was mad at you.

“You're so fucking useless, do you know that?” He asks and you sniff, staying silent.

“Useless whore, you couldn't even make me win the award, the only thing you're good for is being a cocksleeve and a cunt to dump my cum into.” He degrades you and you can feel the tears begin to form in your eyes at his words.

Yet he finds joy in those tears.

“You're crying now? Imagine how I felt when I lost the award huh? How embarrassing was it for me? Especially to that fucking Jason Lannister.” His thrusts become even more brutal.

Your body jolts up and down the seat at the impact, but you still remain silent, the only noises that leave your mouth being whines and moans.

“You're fired.”

Your eyes shoot wide open at those words and you begin to shake, “No- no, please!” You beg and he chuckles, “Desperate to keep this job that much huh? Why? Is it because of my cock?” He asks and you shake your head no, “Please–” You beg and he seems to be in thought.

He suddenly pulls you up, changing positions.

He is now sitting straight with you straddling him, your arms gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Do you really want to keep this job?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “Well, you know what to do.” He says and you nod.

You raise your hips slightly before going down again, you set a decent pace and begin riding him, you bounce up and down on his cock, gripping his shoulders tight, whilst he grips your hips.

“You're so fucking pretty like this.” He mutters, pressing kisses on your breasts before pulling your nipple into his mouth, your pace falters slightly, yet his mouth remains on your breast, suckling on the nipple, twirling his tongue around the bud, and groaning in pleasure.

He leaves your breast with a wet pop before giving the other one the same attention, “I love these tits so much, I can only imagine how delicious it would be if they swell up with milk.” He sighs, rubbing his face in between them and placing a kiss on your sternum.

You begin picking up the pace again, slightly leaning forward which makes the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot, making you let out a moan, you feel his grip tighten on your hips, and soon starts to thrust upwards, matching your pace.

“Fuck Aem– I'm so close.” You close your eyes, “I know baby, me too.” He kisses your neck, and due to the repeated hits at your sweet spot, you finish with a loud moan and immediately fall limp at the impact, your breathing uneven as you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

He thrusts a few more times before he comes too with a grunt, painting your walls white with his seed. You both stay like that for a moment until you break the silence with a question, “Are you actually gonna fire me?” You question and he chuckles, “And miss out having the best fucking company ready 24/7 for me? No. I'm no such fool.” He answers.

Suddenly your phone begins to ring, you get off him and pick the call up and Aemond watches you to do so.

You gasp when the other person reveals the news to you, and you turn to look at Aemond, who looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you end the conversation with the other person, cutting the call.

“The award show is cancelled, apparently the Lannisters have been exposed for the foul play they had done.” you tell him, and his face immediately becomes bright with a smile on his face, and soon it is replaced with a smirk as he watches you put your clothes on.

“You better prepare yourself for a round two at my house.” He tells you and quickly pulls his pants up, before you can say anything, the door opens

“Sorry madam, I wasn't able to pick up the call, my phone died when I tried to.” The driver apologises and gets into the vehicle, seating himself on the driver's seat and quickly starts the limousine, and you sit down next to Aemond, who rests his hand on your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise as you oddly anticipate what's about to come.

The ride home felt like an eternity.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #hotd x reader smut #hotd x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw: dubcon #aemond targaryen

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yujiqi · 1 month ago

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wash away

bf!hamzah x f!reader

synopsis: coming home to your boyfriend after a long day of work

genre/s: fluffy fluff, dare i say fluff

warnings: showering together but theres nothing suggestive

wc: 981

a/n: sorry for not posting for so long TT i just don't have the drive most of the time. hamzahs been on my mind a lot lately though so here's this lil thing! this was lowkey really quiet and not much was said i think. enjoy!

your 9-5 always leaves you so drained, but getting to come home to your beautiful boyfriend makes it all worth it. you walk into hamzah's apartment, slipping your shoes off and setting your bag down. red comes trotting up to you, greeting you with a little meow, rubbing her head on your leg.

"hi sweetie, mommy missed you too" you coo, scratching behind her ears as blue shows up, feeling left out. you pet her too before standing from the crouching position you were in. "is hamzah in his office?" you ask the kittens knowing you won't get a response.

you lazily venture further down the hall into hamzah's room, finding him at his desk editing a new video. despite the fact that he has headphones on, he immediately senses your presence and turns his chair around.

"there's my girl" he smiles, taking off his headphones. "c'mere pretty" he motions you to his lap. you walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, settling with your legs around his waist. you melt into his body, instantly feeling relief from your hectic day.

"how was work?" he kisses your temple.

"y'know," you begin playing with the little curls at the nape of his neck. "tiring"

"my hard working wife. you wanna massage?"

"i'm all sweaty and gross from running around all day" you let out a slight chuckle, recalling how your boss was putting you to work.

"how about we take a nice hot shower, yeah?" you nod your head and climb off his lap. hamzah leads you to the bathroom, softly holding your hand like it'll break if he holds it any tighter. he runs the water and helps you undress, releasing the clasp on your bra. you let out an exhale of relief. he then undresses himself. something you love about your relationship is that being naked together doesn't have to imply or initiate anything. just being comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with each other means a lot.

he helps you step into the shower, ensuring you don't slip. hamzah cares so so so much for you and makes sure you know it. he follows after you, closing the shower door. you turn to face hamzah, the hot water running down your back. you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest.

"let's stay like this for a lil bit. please" eyes closed, you tighten your arms as he wraps his around your shoulders, completely engulfing you. you still smell the faint scent of his cologne, bringing you immense comfort. you feel so safe and protected in his embrace, the size difference making you let out a sigh of contentment. you stay like this for 5 minutes, the sound of the water almost lulling you to sleep. hamzah rubs his hand up and down your back as if he's saying "good job, you did well, you can rest now" he presses a kiss to your forehead, looking down at you.

"you okay angel?" he caresses your cheek with his right hand, scanning your face.

"mhm" you glance at him, feeling much better after the moment you two shared.

"atta girl" he leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. "lemme scrub your back for you" he grabs a cloth and puts some body wash on it. he lathers your back with the suds, making sure he's not being too rough. he travels to your shoulders and your arms and even your hands, getting you sudsy all over.

"you look like the freaking michelin man" he laughs

"oh my god no. the michelin man is terrifying take that back hamzah" you drag out the end of his name.

"boiii he's just a big ass marshmallow thing how are you scared of him" you only frown at him before he pinches your cheeks. "ok fine how about baymax. that's who you look like"

you smile at him in approval, grabbing the cloth from him.

"your turn to become baymax!" you scrub his broad chest, getting the soap all over him. when you get to his arms you squeeze his biceps out of habit.

"so strong baby" you continue squeezing his biceps as you feel him flex.

"i do it all for you y/n, i know how much you like them" he smiles proudly before turning so you can wash his back. you hum as you get to his lower back.

"all done!" you say enthusiastically, events of the day forgotten. "sigh you look like a way better baymax than i did"

"so basically you're calling me big?"

"oh shut upppp" you turn his larger frame around to rinse him off. he turns off the shower and opens the door, motioning for you to step out first. you grab a towel and hand one to him too. he helps you tuck in the towel nicely so you two can carry on with your night routine without it falling.

after brushing your teeth and doing your 10,000 step skincare (according to hamzah) you guys exit the bathroom and look for clothes in hamzah's closet. you have some of your clothes at his place but you always settle for one of his tshirts and a pair of his boxers. hamzah throws on some sweatpants before he picks you up bridal style and carries you to bed.

he lays beside you, pulling you into his body. "all better?" he runs his warm fingers along your hip, sliding under your shirt for more contact

you can only nod your head with the last bit of energy you had. you felt at ease and only hamzah could provide you this solace. only hamzah could help you wash away your stress and anxiety.

"my sweet girl" he whispers, placing one last kiss to your temple as he watches you drift off to sleep, hoping you're dreaming of him.

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzah fluff #slushy noobz #hamzah

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glossysoap · 11 months ago

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unknown number ; keegan. 1 of 3.

warnings/tags: stalker keegan, retired keegan, stalking, perv keegan, fantasies, fem! reader, afab reader, choking, degradation, blowjob, possessive, marking kink, free use, mating press, panty sniffing, hidden cameras, photographing w/o consent, lemme know if i missed anything.

PLEASE READ. regular italics are flashbacks. bolded italics are fantasies that take place during flashbacks.

warnings are marked above. it is your responsibility, and your responsibility alone, to judge whether you want to read this or not. if you click the read more link, you’re responsible for any consequences of reading this dark material. do not try to make yourself the victim when you chose to read it.

this may be ooc in the sense that keegan wouldn’t be a stalker. he’s a fictional character, it’s not the end of the world for him to be ‘mischaracterized’, especially when this is an au. again, by clicking on read more you are making the choice to consume the content. again, do not try to make yourself the victim when you chose to read it.

playlist: runrunrun - dutch melrose

word count: at least 8k

🏷️: @divine--serenity @blissful-bunny @damnirina @wrathofcats @claymorexpunisher @krakenbabe @ghastlybirdie @luvecarson @mandalover2023 @undeadsthings @kiroshang @vgilantee @itzzjxlyn @msdevil333 (if ur name is struck out, tumblr won’t let me tag)

You never thought a simple ding from your phone would make your stomach drop, let alone send you into an anxious spiral. Feeling your heart threaten to pound out of your rib cage, and hearing the thump thump of blood rushing in your ears.

And yet, here you were. Practically jumping out of your skin from it.

All because you knew what it meant; another cryptic text from yet another unknown number.

No matter how many times you blocked one number, in its place would appear another number texting you the next day. Rinse and repeat.

Every text made your eyes widen as you stared at your phone screen, then gulping as you took a peek at your surroundings. The texts always included some type of detail that no one could know unless they were watching you at that exact moment you receive the texts.

The texts would reference your clothes or the way you were wearing your hair. Sometimes the texts would reference what you were eating or drinking — naming the exact latte that was in your left hand while your phone was being held in your shaky right hand.

You never answered them, obviously. You had that much sense.

No matter how easily you could just block and swipe the messages away, you couldn’t forget them that easily. The sinking feeling stayed with you the entire day, weighing heavy in your stomach like lead.

Even when you weren’t getting texts, that feeling remained. That feeling of being frozen with fear, looking over your shoulder with every step.

Your whole body felt like you were doused with ice water, shivering as if you were in the freezing cold but not actually feeling that temperature. The shakiness in your hands, your fingers quivering. Your teeth would chatter, no matter how much you tried to clench your jaw. Your legs felt unstable, like they were made of jello and might collapse under you at any moment.

That feeling would start the very second you hear that ding, and it wouldn’t end until you were in a deep sleep that night. Sometimes it wouldn’t even end then.

It all started about three months ago, in the peak of Autumn. When the weather was biting cold and you shivered from the harsh temperatures, instead of anxiety or paranoia.

The first time you received a text was on a Friday evening, right after you had gotten off work.

The cold air of the parking garage made you wrap your coat tighter, pulling the wool fabric flush against your stomach. You huffed as a shiver ran through your body, your breath visible in the air in front of you. Teeth chattering as you reached a mitten clad hand to press the elevator button labeled for the first floor, where you had parked your car in the morning.

Once you pressed that button, the elevator doors slid shut. You leaned against the elevator wall and gripped the metal rail — instinctually preparing for the brief dizziness that always comes with the sudden drop of the elevator.

You cringe and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the elevator drop for a few moments, before slowing at the last few seconds and coming to a stop. You open your eyes with a sigh before pushing away from the wall, pocketing your hands in your coat as you waited for the elevator doors to open.

Once the doors opened, you fished your car keys out of your pocket and started walking in the direction of your car. It wasn’t parked very far from the elevator, as you kept this situation in mind when you parked this morning.

The parking garage was empty except for you, as far as you could see. Your steps echoed against the concrete walls. White strip lights flickered on the ceiling, the yellow tinged light poorly illuminating the parking structure as you made your way through the dark of night.

Your shoes scraped against the concrete as you walked, passing many cars but keeping an eye on your car. You could just feel the stress of the hard work day melting away by looking at your car, because it meant you were one step closer to being home — where you could shed your scrubs and take a nice bath, before curling up with a hot bowl of soup.

As you approach your car, your lips curl up in a grin at the thought. After a long day of dealing with an onslaught of complaining customers, ones who had a nasty habit of demanding a name brand prescription instead of a generic prescription, your head was pounding. All you wanted right now was some peace and quiet. You yearned to bundle up in blankets and warm yourself up with soup and hot chocolate.

With a press of a button on your car keys, you unlocked your car. The headlights blinked twice before staying on, the bright light hitting the concrete ahead of it. You reached for your car door handle and pulled it open, ducking down before sitting in the drivers seat.

Your teeth chatter as you sit in the cold drivers seat, pulling your coat closer to you again.

You took a moment to tilt your head back against the head rest, closing your eyes and bringing your hands up to massage your face. Groaning as you rub your eyelids, trying to rid the fatigue from your heavy eyes.

You were yanked from your thoughts when you heard a ding from your phone that was sitting in your lap. Your phone screen lit up with a notification, the bright light illuminating the dark of your car. Your brows furrowed as you look down at your phone, seeing that the notification was from a text message. You picked it up from your lap before swiping up to unlock it, and pressing the green message bar.

You wait a moment for the text to appear. Only for your brows to knit together once more as you stare down at your phone. Your brows furrow at the cryptic message sent from an unknown number.

You really shouldn’t sit in your car with the doors unlocked.

You felt your blood run cold and chills prick down your spine as your eyes skimmed the text over and over. You read it over and over, convinced that the letters would disappear from your phone altogether.

But the ominous text remained, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes furiously. The words were almost burned into your brain, seared into your eyelids.

Your body moved on autopilot from that point forward.

You couldn’t lock your car doors fast enough before shoving the phone in the cup holder next to you. Then you practically punched the ‘start engine’ button as you stepped hard on the break, hearing the engine roar to life.

You could still hear your heart pound in your ears over the running engine as you sped out of the parking garage.

You went to bed without eating that night. You weren’t hungry anymore.

That number was the first among many of unknown numbers blocked.

After that, you tried to brush it off. You tried to forget it ever happened, forget that someone was there watching you in that parking garage, seeing you sit in your car. But you couldn’t shake it. You couldn’t shake that damn text message or that string of numbers that it was sent from.

The text was still burned into your brain, even as days passed.

You thought about it any time you picked up your car keys, feeling a chill run down your spine as you thought about that night.

You thought about it whenever you got into your car, especially when you were about to drive to and from work. A sense of dread would fill your stomach as you thought about what happened the last time you got in your car.

Finally, you thought about it whenever you got a notification on your phone. The second you heard a ding or a chime, your mind would be sent right back to that cold night in the parking garage.

The second text you got was three days after the parking garage.

It was the following Monday. You were wearing the same coat you wore in the parking garage, cursing yourself for not owning multiple coats, as it served as another reminder for that night. The noise of holiday music and chattering customers flooded your ears as you stood in line at your usual coffee spot.

‘Come on, come on…,’ You thought to yourself, practically crawling out of your skin with nerves. Ever since that night in the parking garage, something about being stuck in one place always made you very jittery. You felt like a doe stuck in a forest, about to be ensnared in a predators trap.

You felt so on edge ever since then. Always keeping an eye on your phone as if at any minute another text would pop up on your phone screen, labeled ‘unknown number’. You were afraid that you would get yet another text reciting some personal detail about you, one that they would only know if they were watching you at that exact moment.

Even as you were bundled up inside the coffee shop with your scrub shirt and thick sweater, you found yourself shivering at the memory of someone watching you as you sat in your car that night.

You tapped your foot as you waited for the line to move, listening to the woman in front of you drone on and on about her order being done wrong. It wasn’t lost on you that she was the one who ordered it wrong, and yet it was still somehow the baristas fault for not being able to read her mind and know what she actually meant.

You rolled your eyes because if that was her biggest problem, she had it pretty good. She didn’t have that itch in the back of her mind, telling her to look over her shoulder every five seconds. She didn’t have to worry about someone watching her every move, texting her things that they couldn’t possibly know.

“I did ask for a bigger size!” She barked, making you heave a sigh in annoyance — because she definitely did not ask for the bigger size of whatever coffee she wanted.

But of course, to shut the lady up and move the line along, the barista would be stuck with nodding, apologizing and ‘fixing’ her coffee. All for free.

It’s exactly what you would have to do at your own job. You would be stuck with placating customers who couldn’t admit when they made a mistake, putting up with their attitude and getting burnt out in the process.

Though after the incident in the parking garage, the antics of annoying customers started becoming the least of your worries. You would gladly take being yelled at by some high strung customers instead of jumping out of your skin when you heard a ringtone.

You sighed when the customer was finally done, knowing that your lunch break was dwindling by the minute.

You told them your coffee order and fished out your credit card before swiping it on the card reader.

When you caught a glimpse at the time on your watch, a glaring reminder that your break was ending soon, you waved away the baristas offer for a receipt with a polite smile.

Then you wasted no time in leaving the line and waiting for your name to be called at the end of the counter.

The minute you were waiting at the counter felt like five, with how much you kept glancing at your watch and looking over your shoulder. Your foot tapped away as you waited for the barista to finish brewing your coffee, your eyes skimming the crowd of customers around you.

You weren’t looking for anything specific, or more aptly, anyone specific. But something just felt… off.

When you heard your name being called by the barista, you pulled yourself out of your funk and turned back to see them holding out your order with a polite smile.

“Thanks, have a good one.” You took your coffee from their outstretched hand with a grin before turning to leave the coffee shop.

Your legs moved on autopilot as you almost jogged to the exit, desperate to be away from the crowd of customers. The screaming kids and chattering couples was all so overstimulating for you, especially when you needed to be aware of your surroundings.

You pushed open the door to the coffee shop, wincing at the gust of cold Autumn wind that hit your face as you walked outside.

Your shoes scuffed against the pavement as you walked on the sidewalk, glancing at your watch again to see how much longer you had in your lunch break.

You had a good ten minutes left before you had to clock back in.

You nodded with a sigh — it helped that your go-to coffee shop was only a short five minute commute back, even quicker on bus.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you headed towards the bus stop on the street corner. Feeling that familiar itch in the back of your mind, your legs couldn’t move fast enough.

A few minutes passed before you were taking your seat on the bus, shivering as your scrubs came in contact with the cold plastic underneath you.

You savored the warmth of your coffee as you took a sip, enjoying the taste of sweet vanilla mixed with the slight bitter notes of espresso.

You shrugged your bag off your shoulder before placing it in your lap. Then you glanced at your watch again, counting down the minutes before you had to clock back in.

Your eyes wandered around the bus as it moved along the bumpy road, scanning the rest of the passengers. It was almost instinctual, the way your eyes surveyed the people around you and studied their behavior.

Some were parents, bouncing their crying infants on their thigh in an effort to shush them. Overwhelmed mothers carrying their baby in one arm and juggling a bottle in the other. The high pitched whining made you cringe inwardly, almost tempting you to dig through your bag for your earbuds to drown the noise out.

Others were just random people. Scrolling on their phones, unaware of their surroundings as their thumbs moved on their screens, typing and texting away.

All of them seemed blissfully ignorant as they were too buried in their own lives. Their own problems occupying all of their attention — no matter how trivial.

You could overhear other riders complaining about stupid things, things you would love to be complaining about.

You would love to be complaining about missed meetings and forgotten anniversaries, or petty arguments that held no substance.

You would love to be occupied with the most mundane problems, instead of worrying about being watched every minute of the day. Instead of looking over your shoulder with every other step.

Then suddenly, a shiver racks through your body as your phone dings in your purse.

That same ding that you heard that night in the parking garage.

You immediately felt your heart rate pick up at that noise, the pounding in your ears making your head ache. Your blood ran cold in your veins as you reached a shaky hand into your purse, digging through your bag and fishing out your phone.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

But it was.

Enjoying your latte? You take it with oat milk, right?

You almost started hyperventilating.

It only went downhill from there. Even more so.

The creepy messages got even worse and more frequent as days passed, soon turning into weeks.

They weren’t even just text messages anymore. They were private messages on social media, all from throwaway accounts with no profile picture or anything in the bios.

Your account is always the only name in their following list.

You should wear that perfume more often.

One message was sent, referring to a new perfume you had bought. One that you never posted about. One that never left the privacy of your bedroom nightstand.

That dress is gonna look great on you.

Another message would come a different day, referring to a flowy sundress you had bought from a department store. A dress that you never took a selfie in or posted about in any way. A dress that you never even took off of the hanger in your closet.

Ever since the texts grew more and more invasive and personal, delving into details that the stranger couldn’t possibly know, your mental health deteriorated even further.

You couldn’t go a single day without a panic attack, all crumpled up in a sniveling ball and hyperventilating.

You booked an appointment with your doctor for an anxiety medication, practically begging for the highest dosage you could get. You never missed a dose.

The medicine worked well enough, quelling your racing heart rate and preventing you from devolving into an immobile mess.

Besides the paralyzing fear that ran through your body whenever you heard that ding from your phone.

It worked decent enough — at least, until things started disappearing from your home.

It started with smaller things.

You would be looking for your favorite necklace when it’s nowhere to be found. You know it should be on top of your dresser, sitting in the little jewelry case — but it’s not there. The little jewelry case is empty. You even yank open your drawers and dig through your clothes to see if maybe it fell in your dresser somehow, but to no avail.

You write it up as just a simple misplacement. You probably just took it off during your shift and left it at work. Or maybe you left it in your scrub pants pocket, before tossing your clothes in the wash.

You couldn’t bring yourself to think about it too much. That anxiety medicine could only help so much.

Then you couldn’t find your favorite lip gloss. It was a small tube with a silver cap, intricate black lettering scrawled along the glass of the tube.

You rummaged through your makeup bag, maybe it had fallen to the bottom and was buried everything else. Then when you came up empty, you looked in your car. Maybe you set it down in the console when you were in a rush?

But no matter where you looked, just like your necklace, it was nowhere to be found.

Then bigger things started disappearing.

Like a matching set of lingerie.

The black lace bra you loved wearing, with the soft fabric that never chafed your skin, was nowhere to be found. No matter how much you rummaged through your drawers or your closet, you could never find that damn black bra. You looked through all of your dirty clothes and anything that was in the washer or dryer, and you would always come up empty.

The corresponding black lace panties were missing too.

No matter how much you painstakingly rummaged through your laundry, the panties were never to be found.

(….)

Keegan saw everything, from the very beginning.

The first time he saw you in person was in that parking garage. Though that’s not when his interest began.

He wore all black, complete with a black compression shirt and tactical pants, and combat boots. He also sported a black surgical mask and a black beanie. He blended in perfectly with the darkness of the parking garage. He watched you step off the elevator, wrapping yourself in your coat as you shivered. He could see your breath come out in puffs from the cold air. He drank in your vulnerable form as you walked next to a row of cars, completely unaware of him standing behind a concrete pillar near your car.

Completely unaware of him hiding a mere forty feet away from you. Phone burning a whole in his pants pocket and binoculars hung around his neck.

Anticipation built in his chest as he admired you from afar, squinting as he scanned your form for any detail he could make out at this distance. Then he raised his binoculars up to his eyes before adjusting the lenses accordingly, until your frame was perfectly focused.

His icy gaze burned into you as you walked away from the elevator, drinking in every detail he could get his eyes on. The way your hips swayed with each step. The way your scrubs were cinched at the waist, accentuating your figure. The way your hair was pulled up out of your face, revealing your bare neck for him to see.

He saw you wearing a delicate necklace, though he was too far away to see much else about it. What he did notice though, was that the charm on it was hanging low — nestled in between your breasts. Your cleavage was barely exposed because of your scrub top, but the dangling charm disappearing beneath the neckline of your shirt just made his cock throb in his jeans.

Only a few moments of looking at you sent his mind spiraling into conjured up images, images that made his heart race.

He wanted to lick stripes up and down the valley of your breasts, catching the cold chain of your necklace between his teeth. He wanted to nip and kiss at the sensitive skin of your tits, squeezing whatever breast he wasn’t worshipping with his mouth. He wanted to take a nipple in his mouth and suck, making whines fall from your lips before he bit down gently.

“Fuckin’ love these tits. Can’t get enough of them.”

He couldn’t wait to hear how your whines sounded, or how your skin tasted on his tongue.

All he could think of as he saw your neck on display was how he would mark it up, littering your neck with bites and saliva. He could just imagine himself gripping your jaw with his big gloved hand, tilting your head to the side to give him more room. More room to dive into the crook of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites into the sensitive skin.

Then he thought of wrapping a muscular arm around you and gripping your throat with a rough hand as he pounded into you from behind. He could imagine your heartbeat thrumming under his fingers. He imagines your hands clutching onto his arm as he squeezes just enough to make you dizzy, all while thrusting his hips into you. He imagines your juices and his precum mixing, making little wet sounds with each thrust. He imagines you letting out little whines of pleasure as he fills you up with his cock, stretching you out just for him. He imagines your cry as he angles his hips to thrust further, hitting that sensitive spot inside your soaking cunt. Your breath would hitch.

“Oh, you like that, huh? So fucking tight.” He all but growls into your ear, husky and full of gravel. Lips hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you clench around his cock.

“Such a needy fuckin’ pussy.” He grounds out into your ear, his voice rough and unbridled with lust. “So fucking soaked, doll. Knew you wanted me.”

He imagines your pretty face contorted in ecstasy as you howl out his name, just like you should be. He imagines your tight pussy clenching and squeezing around his throbbing cock, milking him for all he was worth as you squirt around him.

“Atta’ girl,” he would croon in your ear as you cried out, your cunt spasming around his cock. “You just needed to get filled, huh? Needed me to fuck you stupid?”

Finally, he imagined rutting into dripping cunt and emptying his warm load into you. He imagines the pearlescent liquid dribbling down your thighs.

“Feel that? All stuffed full of my cum, just dripping out of that cunt?”

His erection throbbed in his pants at the thought, but he just kept looking at you walking across the parking garage.

Patience was a virtue, one he barely had. ‘Barely,’ he thought as he snapped a photo of your walking form.

He saw your lips curl up into a grin as you approached your car, and his eyes narrowed. When he catches a glimpse of your glossy lips, his mouth quirked into a similar grin, teetering on the edge of a smirk, under his mask. The sheer wash of cherry that tinted your plump lips only made his yearning grow.

He wanted to cup the back of your neck with his gloved hand and pull you to him, smashing his lips to yours. He wanted to devour you, slotting his mouth against yours and tasting the hint of fruit from the lip gloss. He wanted to nip your bottom lip between his teeth and force you to open your mouth with a gasp, letting him slip his tongue inside. He wanted to taste you wholly and completely — savoring every last trace of flavor. Toothpaste, mouthwash, tea, coffee. Anything.

The more he stares at your shiny pout, the more he slips into the fantasies that clouded his mind.

He could just imagine you on your knees, settled in between his legs as you looked up at him with your pretty eyes. All glossed over, just like your lips, as tears brimmed along your lower lash line. He imagines your glossy lips wrapped around his cock, completely enveloping him in your warm, wet mouth. He imagines the gags and whines you let out as you force yourself to take him to the base, feeling the scratch of his hair against your nose. He imagines his calloused hand gripping your hair and using it to hold your mouth down on his cock.

“That too much for ya’, doll? Hmm?” He imagines himself crooning down at you with a sickly sweet voice, mimicking a show of concern. “You chokin’ on it?”

He imagines the whimper you let out around his cock as you struggle to accommodate his girth, trying to breathe through your nose and relax your throat. Then he would see the tears trailing down your cheeks and he would laugh.

Keegan would be yanked from his filthy thoughts when your car’s headlights flash a few times. You were walking up to your car, only a few feet away from the hood of your car. Which put you only fifteen feet away from the concrete pillar that he was hiding behind.

His heart pounded in his ears. He’s never been this close to you before.

It took every fiber of his being to not just dart out from the shadows and snatch you up; wrapping his strong arms around your exhausted form and drag you away. No matter if you were kicking or screaming.

He put the binoculars down and let it hang around his neck once more. He didn’t need it now that you were this close to him.

His eyes followed you as you opened your car door, burning into you as you ducked your head to sit in the drivers seat.

His hand moved almost on autopilot as he dug in his pocket, fishing out his phone.

Click. One shot of you right as you sat in the drivers seat, but before you shut your door.

Click. Another shot of you sitting in the drivers seat, but this time through the glass as you had shut your door.

Click. A shot of you with your head tilted back against the head rest, your eyes fluttered shut.

A perfect example of how you would look splayed across his bed, your head thrown back against his pillow and your eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

Click. A shot taken a split second after the previous one, with your hands rubbing your face in exhaustion.

Then he noticed something that made his brow furrow.

You never locked your car doors.

All he could think about as he swiped away from the camera on his phone, was how irresponsible and reckless that was. Didn’t you know that locking your car was one of the first things you should do after you get in your car? Someone like him could just yank your door open and drag you away, stuffing you in their car.

So he couldn’t help himself when he clicked on your number in his contacts. It was already long saved in his phone, ready to be used and abused.

You really shouldn’t sit in your car with the doors unlocked.

He watched as your phone screen illuminated your face, indicating that you had just received his text. He watched as your hands come down from your face and your eyes dart down to your lap, presumably where your phone lay.

His lips stretched into a self indulgent, almost hungry, smirk as he watches your expression shift from tired confusion to that of a frightened doe. All wide eyes and shaky gasps.

He couldn’t help but snap one last photo, perfectly capturing your fragile and scared state.

He watched you speed out of the parking garage, leaving black skid marks on the grey concrete.

He was in no hurry to follow you, though.

He only had to look down at his phone to see where you were going. On his phone was a map with a moving green dot, indicating the tracker he planted on your car.

Later that night, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he sees that your contact was no longer available. You had blocked him. On that number, at least.

The next time he saw you was a few days later, during your lunch break.

He tailed you right from the very moment you stepped out of the lobby of your work. Always keeping his distance, letting a few civilians act as a barrier between him and yourself. Always keeping his eyes trained on your white beanie, making sure you don’t stray too far.

He always needed his eyes on you.

He studied you as you walked the short commute to your favorite small coffee shop. You were all bundled up in the same coat from that night. You were still wearing the same mittens, too. Just one look at the thick wool fabric made his lips curve into a grin, serving as a reminder of that unforgettable night — the first night he ever saw you in person.

He saw you look over your shoulder every minute or so, wearing that same frightened expression you wore in the parking garage. All wide eyed and panicked. A sick part of him enjoyed it.

He reveled in it.

He reveled in every wide eyed peek over your shoulder until you had arrived at the coffee shop. It was cute how you scurried inside the door, almost like you knew you were being followed.

A few more civilians filed in behind you, still providing that safety net that kept you from spotting him.

He didn’t miss a beat in stepping inside behind you.

He sauntered over to the dim corner of the shop, sinking into one of the wooden chairs. He pretended to scroll on his phone to avoid rousing suspicion, eyes darting up to look at you every few seconds.

With every glance he snuck at your figure, he savored any details he could get his eyes on. He easily tuned out the noise of chattering customers and screaming children as he looked at you, drinking you in.

As his eyes burned into your face from afar, he felt endlessly grateful for the daylight illuminating your features properly. Especially as you stood underneath the light fixtures in the cafe, the light hitting the high points of your face just right. The shadows accentuated your bone structure and your lips.

He notices how your hair is tied up and out of your face, revealing your neck — just like it was that night. Realistically, he knows you tie it up out of convenience. But some desperate part of him doesn’t care why, he just knows that he wants to mark your neck all up and claim you as his own.

Then he studies your body language. You unconsciously biting your lip. Your foot tapping on the wooden floor, a clear sign of nerves and impatience. He’s sure that you’re itching to get out of there and get back to work, away from his prying eyes.

His eyes remained glued onto you as the line moved, committing every little expression you made into his memory. Every eye roll brought forth by the annoying customer in front of you. Every exasperated sigh that fell from your pretty lips.

His lips spread into a full blown grin when you fish your phone out of your pocket, sparing it a quick glance to check for notifications. Your eyes would always be a bit wide when you glance down at your phone, as if you were expecting a text from him any moment now.

You reminded him of a wounded doe, with its ears pinned back and tail tucked between its legs.

He loved how he affected you. How even now, he could see a shiver rack through your body, when you were bundled up with layers of clothing. He had a sneaking suspicion that you weren’t shivering from the weather, though. He knew you were shaking from nerves.

When he sees that there were only two customers in front of you, Keegan’s legs moved on their own. He felt himself get up from his seat in the dim corner and step into the line. Right behind you.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. You were so close. So close.

He could smell the slightest of traces of your perfume, notes of vanilla and fruits hitting his nose with every inhale.

His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you. He was itching to just reach forward and feel you, to get his hands on any part of your body he could touch.

He wanted to finally feel your soft skin under his calloused touch, gripping it in his hold after admiring it for so long. He wanted to finally grab your face in his hands and capture your lips in his, slotting his mouth against yours. He wanted to finally feel your plush lips all wet and slippery from his ministrations, swallowing every whine and moan that fell from your pretty lips.

“Love these lips. Dreamt of kissing them for so long.” He would murmur against your mouth, only giving you a moment of reprieve before diving back in. He would nip and bite at your lip, savoring every yelp and whimper that tumbled from your mouth. He would smirk against your mouth.

He couldn’t help but imagine how your mouth would taste. He could imagine the sweet notes of your vanilla latte mixed with the sweet flavor of your lip gloss.

He knew every part of you would taste just as good.

Then he was pulled, yanked out of his thoughts as he heard your voice, for the very first time. It was the perfect pitch, no matter how high or low it was. It made his chest fill with warmth all the same.

“Can I have a large hot dirty chai latte?” He heard you ask the barista, in that perfect, cute voice of yours. He committed every single syllable to his brain, every lilt and cadence.

He overheard the barista’s chipper reply as he slipped out of the line.

Only a few minutes would pass before he was boarding the bus, taking his seat in the middle. Sitting next to a chunk of unassuming passengers, letting him blend right in as you stepped on the bus.

All shivering and on edge, your bag hanging from your shoulder while one hand grasps at the metal railing and your other hand is holding your hot latte.

His eyes followed you as you walked, crinkling at the edges as you just so happened to choose a seat right in his line of vision.

Just like that night in the parking garage, his lips quirked into a sick grin as he brought his phone out of his pocket. Keeping his phone hidden in his lap, only barely tilted up enough for the lense to catch a glimpse of you. It wouldn’t be the best shot, but it would do.

Click. He snapped a photo of you sitting there, your cold hands cupping your warm beverage as you took a sip.

Click. Another photo of your eyes fluttering shut for a split second as you savored the warmth from your latte.

The more he stared at your expression, the more he wanted to be the source of it. The more he needed to see your face etched with fear and paranoia. Brows all furrowed and eyes widened, pulse thrumming on your neck in a panic.

So he pocketed his phone before fishing in his other pocket to retrieve a burner.

What other choice did he have when you blocked him?

Enjoying your latte? You take it with oat milk, right?

He heard the ding from your purse just like you did.

Your expression sure didn’t disappoint. Your eyes widen and your breathing picks up, coming out in little gasps as your shaky hand reaches into your bag.

He can’t help but laugh when you reread the text, your eyes skimming the screen over and over as if it would make the text disappear if you read it enough. As if it would make him disappear.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

A few hours had passed by the time he was driving into your apartment complex. The sun was already setting. You were still at work, picking up your usual overtime shift.

Leaving your apartment empty for him.

It had a piss poor level of security, which disappointed him for your safety but worked out just fine for him.

There was no code to gain access to the apartment complex. Just some gate that used a motion detector and let anyone in. Then the entrance to your apartment was on the outside, instead of the inside of a big building.

No doorman, no elevators, no security systems.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

The corners of his lips quirked up under his mask as he walked up to your front door, backpack slung over his shoulder. Dressed in all black, just like that night in the parking garage. Latex surgical gloves slipped on his hands.

He knelt in front of your front door, his knees resting against the hard concrete. The small metal rods felt cold in his gloved hands as he began to pick the lock, sliding the rods inside and angling them around. He pressed his head against the door, right next to the lock so he could hear the telltale click of the door unlocking.

Just a few more twists and turns and then.. click.

A pleased rumble came deep from his chest as he rose from his knees. He took a brief look around the hallway to make sure no one could see before he took the long awaited first step into your home.

He was immediately hit with that comforting, sweet smell the moment he stepped inside. Your smell.

It was dark when he walked in, you had turned off all of the lights when you left that morning. He pulled out his phone that was burning a hole in his pocket, tapping the screen to use as a flashlight.

He patted along the wall, feeling around for a light switch.

When he found one, he flicked it on and watched as light flooded the entrance of your apartment. He reached behind him to lock your front door.

The entrance led directly into the kitchen, the small island scattered with a few empty coffee cups and a wilted potted plant. It wasn’t terribly dirty by any means, just a bit of clutter as a result of rushing to work. The dying plant was a result of being too busy to take care of something else.

His icy eyes moved to survey the rest of your home. He was eager to drink in every detail he could, especially after waiting so long.

He walked into your living room that was connected to your kitchen. It was small, but good enough for one person. Soon it would be good enough for two.

His eyes landed on your couch. It looked comfortable enough. The cushions were large and fluffy, perfect for you to be nestled against while his fingers or cock were buried inside your cunt.

Which is exactly what he imagined at that very moment.

He imagined your naked and vulnerable form caged underneath him as he straddles you. His big, calloused hands rested on your stomach, thumbs tracing small circles in your hot skin. Your head laid on the armrest as you stare up at him with glossed over eyes. Pupils blown wide with lust. Little gasps leaving your pretty bite-swollen lips as your breasts heave with each pant. That same necklace you always wore resting against your tits.

His tongue darts out to wet his lip, hungrily eyeing your breasts. His hands move to cup your tits, not caring to be gentle as he squeezed and groped at the sensitive flesh.

“Love these fuckin’ tits, bunny.” He mutters as he dips his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking it with a growl that vibrated against your skin. You whine quietly, bucking your hips against his clothed thigh. He could feel wetness soaking through his jeans as your wet cunt grinded against his thigh. He nips at the swollen bud, tugging the nipple between his teeth and pulling just a bit before letting go with a pop.

“Could suck ‘em all day.” He bites the skin around your nipples, leaving indentations in your flesh. “And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like it if I marked you all up, huh? Ruined you for anyone else.”

He could feel your hips buck against his thigh again, all needy and sensitive and desperate to be filled. So fucking soaked.

“Any other man.” He pinches your other nipple.

“What? Gonna pretend you wouldn’t like me ruining you for anyone else?” He would press, eyes staring up at you as you bit your lip. Simultaneously trying to silence your moans and your answer to his condescending question.

“Oh, not talking? That’s alright.” His eyes crinkle at the edges, before he moves down your wriggling body. All the way until he reaches between your legs. He wrestles your legs so they’re resting over his shoulders, his strong arms snaked around your thighs. Keeping you locked in place.

“I’ll let your pussy do the talking for you. She’s always honest for me.” He’s cruel and teasing with his touch, almost like revenge for your show of silence. For your stubbornness.

Your cunt squeezed around nothing as his breath hit your sensitive skin.

His thick finger works to spread your slick along your slit, feeling your juices coat his digit. You couldn’t hold back your gasp. Gathering your wetness on that finger, then rubbing it against his thumb. Watching with an almost fascinated look as a string of juices connected between his finger and his thumb.

“Wow. She’s so wet for me.” He murmured casually as he dips his finger just inside your slit again, only pushing in one inch. Just enough to observe your reaction as you got the slightest bit of penetration. Then he pulls his finger out.

“Look. Look at that, pup. Look at how wet she is for me.” He shows you his soaked finger, all slick and slippery with your juices. Still referring to your pussy like she’s her own person, and not something that belongs to you.

He didn’t miss how your cunt pulsed at his words.

“She soaked my finger. Barely even touched her and she soaked it.” Was all he crooned before he was shoving his wet finger in your slack jawed mouth, forcing you to taste your own juices. You whimper around his finger as you suck it clean, your brows furrowed and your eyes glossy. “Oh, good girl. Don’t even have to tell you what to do and you’re already suckin’ it clean.”

He pulls it out of your mouth with a pop.

“But now I think I wanna taste her for myself.”

His mouth came down hard on your waiting cunt, his tongue making quick work to devour your juices. Licking a flat stripe up and down your slit, savoring the flavor of your wetness.

He’s messy and sloppy in the way he eats your pussy. Making obscene noises as he groans against your cunt, tongue dipping inside and lips sucking on your clit. Hands digging into the skin of your thighs as he pries your legs apart impossibly further.

You feel him smirk against your cunt as he hears you whine and moan in unbidden pleasure.

“Mm? You like that?”

You couldn’t help but nod over and over, just wanting him to keep licking you. Keep touching you. But of course, he couldn’t make it that easy.

“No, no, no. I need to hear you say it.” His fingers trace around your slit as his breath fans against your entrance. Your hips buck desperately against his face.

“Look at how fuckin’ loud she is for me. Hmm?” He dips two thick fingers into your slit, rubbing your pussy just enough to make wet sounds but not enough to actually penetrate.

“Why can’t you be that loud, huh?” He asks against your thigh.

You swallow.

“Please, please! Keegan, plea—,” Your pleas would be cut off by your own moans as his tongue dives back in, his fingers accompanying his mouth.

You throw your head back against the armrest with a cry as his arms pull your pussy impossibly closer to his mouth.

“Love this fuckin’ pussy.” He moans into you, suckling on your swollen clit and pumping two fingers into you. His tongue kept moving along your pussy, licking along your lips before kissing and sucking the sensitive skin.

His fingers never stopped moving. His thick fingers kept feeling around inside your soaking cunt, exploring every bit of warmth and wetness.

He drinks in every moan and whimper and cry that fall from your lips as he eats you whole, feeling you draw closer and closer to the edge with each lick and pump.

“What if I just.. curl my fingers like this?” He asks, mouth still flush against your pussy as he curls his two fingers at just the right angle. The perfect angle to hit that spongey spot over and over.

He laughs against your pussy as you wail his name, feeling your orgasm rock through you. You squirm and writhe in his snake like hold as you squirt on his tongue and fingers. Your juices absolutely soaking his chin and palm.

He forces himself to shake off those thoughts in favor of surveying other parts of your home.

Feeling his cock throb in his pants, he moves on to the most anticipated part of your home. Your bedroom.

A smile stretches across his face as he takes a moment to study your most sacred place.

You had decorated your room the best you could afford, with what little time you had too. You had hung some decorative lights along the ceiling that glowed a warm white, and you had hung some paintings along the walls.

Your dresser had some trinkets scattered along the top, some unlit candles and a fake succulent plant. One thing caught his eye, though. Your jewelry case that was sitting there, filled with a few rings and earrings. But what really caught his eye was that your favorite necklace was sitting there too. That same necklace he saw you wearing in the parking garage.

His hand moved on autopilot. Before he knew it, he was snatching the necklace up and pocketing it.

Then his eyes caught onto a lip gloss that was perched on your drawer. He just knew it was the one you wore in the parking garage.

He slipped that into his pocket, right along side your necklace.

Then his eyes landed on your bed. It looked so comfortable and sturdy, perfect for him to fuck you into the mattress on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cry out as he pounds into you. Your legs pressed against your chest and his arms caging you in, keeping you locked in a mating press. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, making him dip his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. His eyes are staring up at you, grinning at your fucked out state. All glossy eyes and bite-swollen lips.

“Yeah, you like that?” He croons against your breast.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—,” You nod, babbling mindlessly as you feel that knot in your stomach tightening.

He smirks against your skin, before biting it.

“Aw, yeah. I know, bunny.” He coos, hips never faltering as he felt your cunt squeeze so perfectly around his cock. “Especially right… here. Hmm?” He angles his hips to be able to pound into you even sharper, reaching that sensitive spot with every thrust.

“Oh!” You wail, clutching at his back as he reaches down to rub at your swollen clit.

He shakes his head, forcing himself to move on from that image.

Then his eyes caught onto your perfume that was sitting on your nightstand.

Vanilla and fruity, all sweet and comforting.

He couldn’t help himself as he sprayed a few mists of the perfume in front of him.

He inhaled, and he only felt the throbbing in his pants grow.

He moved on to your closet.

He took his time in flipping through your hung up clothes, squeezing the soft fabric in his gloved hands. Imagining you in every outfit that he saw in front of him, imagining your tits peeking out in every dipping neckline or bikini that he saw.

Until he came across a sundress. All flowy and lightweight. Pastel blue with white silk straps and a little white bow in the front, right where the neckline plunged.

The skirt of the dress didn’t leave much to the imagination.

He could tell if you were wearing it now, it would end right at mid thigh. If the wind was blowing, the dress would fly up and give a clear view of your skimpy little thong or bikini or whatever other panties you wore.

That kind of dress would give someone him easy access to do whatever they pleased.

He could just imagine you standing in your kitchen, washing dishes as you wore that damn dress. Your hands all wet and covered with suds as you scrub at a plate. He cages you in from behind by planting his hands on the counter on either side of your body. He brushes himself up against your ass, rubbing his throbbing cock against you.

“Feel what you do to me, dolly?”

You drop the plate into the sink and you quietly gasp, heart pounding in your ears as you feel him grinding against you. His mouth comes down to the crook of your neck to leave open mouthed kisses, stubble scraping your skin.

“Don’t stop on my account, doll.” He murmurs against your ear, before sucking a rough bite into the crook of your neck.

You pick up the plate and go back to scrubbing, all while feeling his mouth move along your skin. Down your neck, to your shoulder blades. His hands move from their place on the counter and cup your tits, squeezing them in his big hands. He can feel your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of the dress.

“Fit so damn perfect in my hands.”

You gasp as he tweaks your nipples over the fabric. His hips rock against your ass again, making you whimper. Then his hands trail down your stomach and all the way to the skirt of your little dress. His big hands splay under your dress, his hot skin burning against your cold flesh. He gropes and squeezes at your hips, loving how soft it is under his hands. Then he gives that same treatment to your godsent thighs. So fucking strong and soft all at once.

“Love these hips. These fuckin’ thighs, fuck. ” Speaking of thighs, you can’t stop rubbing your thighs together. Your stomach was filled with heat the more he grinded his cock against your clothed ass.

That heat only grew and grew as he unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. It was already throbbing and swollen, the tip an angry shade of red.

“Got me so hard already, bun.”

He uses one hand to lift your dress and pull your panties to the side, revealing your soaking wet cunt. Then he uses his other hand to guide the head of his cock and rub it against your slit.

Your breath hitches as the tip of his cock breaches your folds, your hands coming to a screeching halt.

You hear him groan against your neck as he pushes further in, fraction by fraction until he was buried to the hilt. You throw your head back involuntarily, mouth gaping open as he filled you so fucking good.

You just wanted him to move. You needed him to move.

“C’mon, love. Keep workin’ or I’m not moving.”

You whimper, forcing your hands to keep moving and scrubbing, despite the pleasure flooding your nerves.

“Atta girl.” Was all he murmured in your ear before he started thrusting into your tight cunt.

He pulled himself out of his own fantasy for what felt like the millionth time, knowing you would be getting off work soon.

He was just about to turn and leave your room when he spotted your laundry hamper sitting in the corner. His legs moved on their own accord as he walked to your bin of dirty laundry.

There was only a few articles of clothing sitting in the hamper, but only one caught his eye.

A pair of teal panties. Used panties.

Before he knew it, he was reaching down into the hamper and picking up the panties. He noticed a wet spot right on the crotch, one that must have come from your wet cunt earlier that morning.

His cock twitched as it sat painfully hard in his pants as he imagines your wet pussy nestled right against the very fabric he was blessed enough to be holding right now.

He couldn’t help himself as he pulled his mask off and lifted the fabric up to his face, taking a whiff of the wet spot.

He just couldn’t believe that he was smelling your fucking essence.

While he was holding your panties up to his face, his other hand was hard at work unzipping his pants and fishing his cock out of his boxers.

It sprung up against his stomach right away, he was so fucking hard. Especially after all of the fantasies that have been trapped in his fucked up head.

“Fuck, smell so fucking good.”

He groaned as he inhaled again, your scent filling his nose perfectly. He immediately started stroking his hard cock, wrapping his hand around his shaft and squeezing with each stroke. Up and down, up and down.

He would take a huge inhale of your scent with every breath he took. As he sniffed the wet fabric, he went back to those fantasies in his head. All of those images of him pounding you from behind. Images of you on your knees. Staring up at him with glossed over eyes, tears running down your cheeks as he came down your throat. You moaning his name as he finger fucked your needy pussy. The sounds of your wet cunt and your juices mixing with his precum.

He felt that knot in his stomach build up unbelievably quick as all of those images run through your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The more he imagined your sweet fucking voice moaning his name as you squirt around his cock, the closer he got to shooting his load on your bedroom floor.

His fist moved faster around his cock, twisting at the head and rubbing at the tip. Hissing at the sensitivity and bucking his hips as he felt himself growing dangerously close to cumming.

To push himself over the edge, he brought the panties down to his throbbing cock and used them to finish stroking.

“God, fuck!” He would all but shout as he shot rope after rope of his hot cum onto your bedroom floor.

He panted as he stroked himself through his orgasm, letting the aftershocks ebb away.

Once he caught his breath, he adjusted himself back in his boxers and zipped his pants back up.

Then he couldn’t help himself as he shoved those pair of panties into his backpack that was still on his shoulder.

After making sure everything looked the same, all he had left to do was plant the cameras.

He planted the first one in your bedroom, right above the window. It would be too high for you to see it but high enough for him to get a good view of everything in your room.

He planted the second one in your living room, right underneath your television. It was black so it would blend in with your television perfectly.

He planted the last one in your kitchen, right on top of your high cabinets. It would be way too high for you to notice, let alone remove, but it would be a perfect view for him.

Within five minutes he was out of your apartment, using the same lock pick equipment to lock it behind him.

All he had to do was look down at his phone to see the video feed of the cameras he planted.

Now he could watch his bunny you any time he wanted.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#SoundCloud #modern warfare x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan p russ x reader #tw stalking

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lovelettersfromluna · 1 year ago

Note

can i request one of your girls' drabble, ellie is edging u while filming 🤭

Oh god….the camgirl!Ellie saga continues….

an: if any of you would like to see more of these little drabbles from my series pls feel free to inbox me! I love writing these two so so much

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI!!!, edging, dom!Ellie, camgirl!Ellie, live stream sex, dirty talk, usage of toys, fingering, clit slapping, nipple play, let me know if I missed anything!!

In all honesty? You don’t think you’d ever get fully used to being fucked in front of thousands of people.

Virtually, that is.

Ellie had slowly introduced you to it, allowing you to be on camera whenever you were ready, and opting out whenever you weren’t.

It wasn’t entirely different from pre-recording something and then just posting it. It was still a camera pointing at you and Ellie while you played with each other…

Apart from the constant pings that came through Ellie’s computer.

“Jesus Christ…I’ve never seen them so…active..” Ellie would breath out softly after your first time live streaming, her own disbelief clear as she scrolled through the amount of tips you two had racked up after a quick stream of her eating your pussy.

That only further proved that the crowed fucking loved you, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a rush that came with putting a show on for them.

And that’s how you eased into it, knowing how much they loved you and Ellie together. The amount of messages that Ellie had received when you came back to her page was almost overwhelming, her audience practically foaming at the mouth for more content of you two.

It’s how you ended up on you bed, your back pressed against Ellie’s chest, her hands spreading your legs and giving the camera the perfect view of your soaking wet pussy.

Her soft lips were pressed against your neck, large hands roaming over your body, playing with your nipples, your hips, your stomach, your thighs, every single part of your body receiving the pleasure of feeling her calloused hands on your soft skin…

Expect for where she knew you needed her most.

The whine you let out was pathetic, your eyebrows furrowed, swollen lips forming a pout. The camera stopped just below your nose, allowing the audience to see just how fucked out you were from the sight of your messy, maroon tinted lips.

Ellie’s chuckle rang through your ears, making your aching pussy throb as her slender fingers rolled your nipples between the pads of her digits.

“She’s so fuckin’ needy….doesn’t she get so cute when she’s like this? You guys know I could probably get her to say whatever I want as long as I let her cum…pathetic…” Ellie hummed out, a soft hiss sliding against her tongue as her hands slid down your body, settling between your legs. Both of her hands came down, spreading your pussy further, your lips making a wet, sticky sound at the gesture.

“Fuck…you can fucking hear how wet she is…all that for me baby?” She hummed softly.

Your hips thrusted up, eager to make her fingers slip and somehow settle on your throbbing clit.

Ellie had been at this for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your clit, finger fucking your poor little pussy and bringing you right to the edge, all for her to stop and leave you high and dry. Your cheeks were wet with desperate tears, lips swollen and pouty from all the biting you’d done, it didn’t help that the mirrored image of the two of you made you even hornier.

You loved seeing Ellie’s hands playing with your body.

Ellie chuckled softly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Such a needy girl…come here baby…lemme make you feel good…”

The moan you let out was hysterical, your back arching almost painfully as her fingers went to your clit, rolling tight circles into the bundle of nerves. Her eyes never left your face, always loving the way you came undone against her no matter what she did.

“That’s it…that’s my good girl…feels good, huh? You’ve been so good for me baby…been so good for everyone watching…” she praised you.

And she was right, the amount of tips that would come in whenever Ellie would start playing with your pussy again was almost appalling, the comments all praising you for being a good girl, urging Ellie to keep going, wanting nothing more than to see you cum on camera.

But this was far too fun to end so quickly…

Her fingers stopped working against your clit, and you let out a loud whine despite the fact that you expected her to stop. Ellie always liked going long during streams like this, when you were so needy, and desperate, and fucked out that all you could do was give her whatever she wanted.

When Ellie hears the whine leave your swollen lips, her hand comes down quickly to give your clit a light spank, which makes your body jump, and makes you moan loudly. You quickly grab her wrist when she raises it again, shaking your head as you stare up at her with hazy eyes.

“D-don’t! I’ll…you’re gonna make me cum if you…fuck…do that again” you whimper out.

Ellie raises her eyebrows at this, her eyes drifting over to the camera for a minute to catch sight of the mess between your thighs. Her hand comes up, gripping your cheeks and squishing them together before she smashes her lips against yours in a messy, needy kiss, the sounds of your tongues lapping together mixing in with your moans and creating something truly erotic.

“Gonna be the death of me someday, baby…fuck…” she whispered softly against your lips, only loud enough for you to hear, too quiet for the mic she has set up to catch.

Those moments are frequent, when for a split second, the act of being two performers is dropped, and it’s Ellie, your Ellie, coming through and letting you know just how fucking obsessed with you she truly is.

Makes your heart flutter every single time.

You giggle softly, smiling against her lips as you simply give her a quiet nod as if to silently agree with her, and you can feel her smiling against your lips too.

But the sweet, syrupy moment between you two dissolves quickly, because while you’re far too deep in the feeling of Ellie’s lips on yours, you can barely register the feeling of her reaching behind her and grabbing something, and you can barely hear the sound of the vibrator she bought for you buzzing.

And you wouldn’t have realized she had it at all, if it wasn’t for her pressing the buzzing head of the toy against your drooling core, making you gasp loudly.

Ellie smirks almost proudly when she watches you turn your head from her to look down at the toy she has buzzing against your clit, against your labia and against your weeping hole, giving all of you the attention you’ve wanted all night long.

“F-fuck! H-haaa….i won’t…m’not gonna last long..” you stutter out, trying your best to close your legs, running away from the intense buzzing of the vibrating wand.

“Nuh-uh…you stay right there, and give the people what they want….come on baby…you deserve it” she demands, voice dripping with dominance as she pries your legs apart, keeping you spread open for the camera.

Your eyes are so blurry, and you can’t even hear the sounds of the tips coming in through the noise of the vibrator and your own moans.

“Fuck! Fuck I’m…you’re gonna…oh my god!!” You cry out, back arching once again, pushing your head against Ellie’s shoulder as you came hard, the sound loud and guttural, sure to leave your poor throat hoarse in the morning.

“That’s it baby…fuck yeah…so fucking pretty…that’s my pretty girl..” Ellie praises over and over again as she holds you down, keeping you against her as she helps you ride out your orgasm, stopping you from running away from the toy.

When you finally come down, she removes the toy from between your legs and tosses it somewhere on your bed. Her hands let you close your legs, and exhausted whine leaving your lips as you let her hands massage your body, hiding you away from the camera.

You were now entering a time that was reserved for only you and Ellie, you learned that it was just for you two by how quickly she ended the streams whenever you had finished.

“She’s all done for tonight you guys…we always appreciate putting on a show…” she hums out softly.

Your eyes were already so hazy, and you could feel the exhaustion from the orgasm taking over the second it had washed over you, and probably even before then. You couldn’t even say goodbye to your audience properly, because Ellie was ending the stream and closing her laptop before you could even lift a finger.

Ellie chuckled softly, pulling you down to lay with her as she grabbed your blanket and tossed it over your naked body.

“Did so good for me baby…so proud of you…” she sighed against your skin, peppering your face with kisses as she watched your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Honestly? You couldn’t wait to get her back on the next stream.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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animasola86 · 6 months ago

Text

SMUT DRABBLES*: Car Inspection

A/N: Yet another little smut scene, *no longer a drabble (Drabble? Who's she?), but still short. Like with my other drabbles, you can imagine any character you want here, it's usually just a man and a woman having a good time. Today I give you oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex and creampies. And cars (so think up an AU where it works, if you will).

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 1.3k // AO3

“Lemme take a look under the hood, miss,” he's said, and now she's sitting on the warm metal, gripping his broad shoulders, legs held open by strong hands, while he has his head buried under her skirt.

His tongue is as hot as the sun batting down on them, licking through her folds with fervor and certainty, expert motions, warm lips, teasing teeth, kissing, sucking, nibbling, pulling her sensitive skin into his mouth, nose rubbing against her clit.

He's lapping at her like a man starved, the slurping and squelching noises mixing with the chirp of cicadas, the subtle squeak of the car beneath her, her own rapid breaths. He's good, knows what to do, where to look and lick. She's come to the right place.

Her skirt obstructs the view, but she's still on display, writhing and squirming, bare feet squeaking over the metal hood in an attempt to anchor herself. He's ruthless in his assault, focusing now fully on that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue around it, laving it, sucking on it.

She's losing it, her head spinning, it's too hot, the air is stale and dry, and her lungs are protesting. The tension in her belly is like a burning thing, growing and expanding, filling her out like she wishes he would fill her out.

He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her clenching cunt. His hands move, one big palm pressed to her stomach, forcing her down on her back, the other slipping under the tent of her skirt as well. He's teasing her, nibbling on her clit while his fingers slide through her slick before they take a dip into her heat, plunging deep, two at once, pushing in and out, scissoring inside her, stretching, massaging, curling against that sweet spot.

She arches her back, shoulders pressed into the hood, cries out, thighs trembling around his shoulders, her own shaking hand gripping at his wrist, nails sinking into his skin before he slips his long fingers between hers, holding her hand, heavy on her stomach. He pumps his other digits into her, licks her clit, the tension explodes within her. Their joined hands hold her down when she convulses, jerks her hips against his face and fingers, shivering under the hot sun.

He licks up every drop with broad strokes of his tongue, his fingers moving slower, bringing her down gently before they retreat, gripping her twitching thigh, warm and slick and strong, while he pushes his mouth to her lower lips, kisses her deeply, tongue pressing into her quivering hole.

She wails again, quietly in the open space, her voice drowned by the screeching insects trying to be louder.

He's shifting, emerging from under her skirt, nose and lips and chin glistening in her juices, hair messy, face flushed. She's also red in the face, panting, trying to avoid those hungry eyes. His hands find her warm cheeks when he straightens up, towering over her.

His kiss tastes tangy, salty, sweet, all at once and more, her own taste on his tongue as he claims her mouth. She moans into it, clinging to his bare back, sweat slick and strong, muscles flexing beneath sun touched skin. He pushes her up the hood of the car, his hips between her shaking legs, pinning her down, skirt flipped up entirely now. His body is blocking the view, she couldn't care less who sees her.

With his tongue wrestling hers, he grips her waist, one hand disappearing between them, the clink of a belt, the whirring scrape of a zipper, a little groan when he grips his cock and guides it to her dripping cunt. She moans into his mouth, fingernails sinking into his skin while he sinks into her, small frantic rolls of his hips as he slowly fucks her open, stretches her, fills her, in and out, inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

His hands on her hips pull her into him, closer, deeper, her legs spasm against him before she hooks them around his thick thighs. Muscles flex under denim, his grip rough as he starts pulling out to slam back in, over and over again, his grunts as loud as her moans, the kiss messy and breathless.

She's lightheaded, sun-burnt, a sweaty mess in his strong grip, her hands gripping at his waist, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks as she squirms against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He leans back, leaving her tingling lips, presses his forehead to hers, eyes staring into her soul, warm and dark and mesmerizing, hungry, breaths hot and dizzying, mingling. His hips slam into her slower, deeper, setting an excruciating rhythm, taunting, teasing, slow and steady while they're both burning under the sun, the heat inside her belly almost as unbearable.

She's whimpering, grinding her pelvis into him, digs her heels into his lower back, eyes pleading. The smirk on his lips makes her angry, growling through her gritted teeth. His hands tighten around her hips, fingers bruising, and when he leans back fully, a barely there shadow falling onto her shaking body, looking down at her, he stops moving altogether, cock hard and swollen inside her clenching cunt.

She wants to protest, whine, beg, but he only looks at her, tilting his head, before he slowly moves back, cockhead scraping against her tight walls, before he slams back in with a force that makes her yelp, flinch, cry out, as he hits her deepest spot, tip squished against her cervix.

The pain is there, sharp, short, dissipating slowly before it's back, dragging retreat, the hint of reprieve, then another deep stab, hard, fast, agonizing. Again and again, until he grows impatient and just hammers into her, her moans and cries broken up, voice strained, helpless, as his cock pistons in and out, rough and unrelenting, and all she can do is take it.

He grunts, sweat running down his temple, a fine sheen on his bare torso, muscles flexing, his teeth bared and gritted, hands digging into her soft skin. Pull, push, stab. Pull, push, stab. Her own sweat mixes with tears, her cries soundless little puffs of air, her head filled with vertigo and bliss, pain and pleasure. One big hand splayed on her hip, the other moving between them, thumb pressing hard against her clit, and she yelps again, and again, coming hard around his pounding cock, juices coating his length, squelching out with every deep slam.

The car is rocking beneath them, suspension squeaking, needs to be oiled. She's come to the right place. Come at the right place. Over and over again until she's a boneless mess, lying on the hood of her car, arms splayed out beside her, sweaty palms squeaking over metal with every deep thrust, body moved up and down, insides convulsing, muscles contracting, tight around his thick cock. He grunts, groans, huffs, head red under the sun, under the exertion, working overtime.

He comes with a low growl, animalistic, body twitching against her, burying himself deep within her clenching heat, balls tightening, cock spasming, filling her with his hot seed, spurt after burning spurt. She gasps when his hand pushes on her stomach, before he slowly pulls out, panting, eyes glued to her reddened pussy, watching intently, an expert's eye, head tilted, then he slaps his hand on her folds, making her wince.

She's pulled onto her feet, barely able to think, to function, dizzy from the sun and the special service. He lifts her feet, one at a time, puts her panties back on, slides them up her shaking legs. His cum drips down her inner thigh, slowly, slow enough for him to gather it on his finger and push it back up, between her glistening folds, back into her clenching hole. She moans at the sensation, gripping his arm for support. He keeps his finger in her while he pulls her underwear back in place, pumping it slowly before removing it, gently dragging his wet fingertip between her covered folds, trapping his seed.

“I believe there's been a leak, miss,” he says, fixing her skirt, making her presentable again as he looks at her with a proud smile, having found the problem, while she looks up at him with a soft giggle, feeling their combined juices drenching the fabric between her trembling thighs.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Sleepy

Tension Relief

#smut #mysmut #ao3 smut #smut drabble #smut writer #smut writing #smut prompts #original smut #sebastian sallow smut #tom riddle smut #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter smut #joel miller smut #arthur morgan smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #simon ghost riley smut #mechanic!joel #mechanic!dean

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penvisions · 6 months ago

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {epilogue}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: As time passes, you and Joel settle into a new life together.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, mentions of past lost loved ones, mentions of child loss (both joel and reader), joel miller's hands need their own warning, adult content, sexual content, smut, piv, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), creampie (reader is unable to get pregnant so you know lol), dry humping, bulge mention, sensual makeout session, one (1) instance of squirting, reader and joel are down bad for each other, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: i missed them and the document that only had a few dozen words flourished into this! i realized i could write for these two until the end of time because i love them so much and this little universe, so if there's something you're curious about or want to see of them, send an ask and a one shot might be written c;

love y'all and hope this brings you some joy today ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

You stir long before the other body in your bed, dreamworld of your sleeping mind slipping from you as consciousness takes hold. But it leaves behind a melancholia you were all too familiar with. Today would be a hard day, tomorrow even more so. The loss of your friend weighing heavy on your soul even as you lay tangled with a man who helped to brighten and fill your days with a new purpose.

“We’ve gotta get up,” You quietly remind him even as you snuggle closer, basking in the warmth of him so close and comforting. You don’t feel very compelled to heed your own words, if you’re honest.

“Ten more minutes.” He’s pressing his body to yours, the hard line of him jutting into your lower back and his teeth nipping as your shoulder. You were both bare from the strokes of pleasure you had pulled from each other’s bodies the evening before. His voice gravelly from both the way he had shouted out, moaned loud enough for it to bounce off the walls last night and his waking body this morning.

“You said that yesterday and I was late for my shift at the mess hall.”

“You run the mess hall, can’t be late if you’re the boss.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm, trust me.” He rumbles as he begins to lazily shift his dribbling cock against the plush skin of your backside. You have nothing but a breathy moan as he shifts your bodies, laying over your back as he presses you into the soft mattress and tangled sheets, slipping inside of your aching core with an easy glide. It’s splitting the way he fills you so fully, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as he simply rolls his hips to help ease you open a little more. His hands are reaching to interlock fingers with yours that grab at the sheets.

After a few moments of slowness, he’s shifting his weight up onto his knees a bit more, nudging your legs open for him rest between them as he holds tight to the flare of your hips to angle them perfectly for you to feel every hard inch of him. Slow and sensual turns into frantic and hard thrusts, punching sounds out from your lungs as the drag of him through your center ignites your body.

Praises for you fall from his mouth in deep, guttural sounds as he feels you begin to arch your back and lean your hips back to meet his every move. Fingers dip below your body to circle your throbbing clit and his words give way to harsh pants as you clench around him, your release quick and numbing.

His body is singing, trying to match the tune of yours as he works you through it, the squelch of him dragging out and slamming back in making your stomach flutter. It’s both unfamiliar and new, the way pressure builds in your middle so soon after, but it’s not unwelcome as you realize his hand is now pressed firmly to the soft give of your lower stomach right above the patch of curls your keep trimmed.

You try to warn him as it grows in intensity, but you don’t think words form around the warbling cries of your voice. Drowned out by the desperate sounds he’s beginning to make as he feels a warm splash of wet soak the sheets and the fronts of his muscled thighs, he falters for just a moment before he’s slamming in as deep as he can and filling you with hot spurts. You feel him, all of him from the twitching of his cock to the soft pudge of his middle on your back as he stills, draping back over you and brushing his nose over your ear.

“Such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Didn’t even know you could do that.” Your hips jerk as you preen under his words, his rapt attention, the feeling of him still nestled deep in your fluttering core. He’s choking on the breath he had just taken as he feels the way your body holds him where he his, refusing to let him go. And it’s with almost reverent touches, that he’s swiping thick fingers around where you’re connected as he leans back to take in the sight of his cum leaking out. As your body finally relaxes, he’s slipping from you with a held breath, exhaling only when he sees the milky mix of your combined releases dripping from your puffy seam.

His weight is suddenly gone from over and behind you, causing you to turn your head as best you could where your cheek is pressed to the sheets only for your breath to hitch at the sight of him lowering down onto his chest between your still propped up legs.

“Can’t give it to you again so soon, sweet, needy girl, but I can taste you,” He’s growling out before his hands are back on your hips and pulling you to his waiting, open mouth. It should be dirty, the way he makes out with your puffy lips and sensitive core, teeth gently nipping at the almost pained bundle of nerves right at your crux, facial hair scraping against silken skin, but it’s only fueling the heat that hadn’t seemed to dissipate as it begins to crawl across your skin once again.

“We…um, we should do something for Aiden’s birthday this year.” Millie was behind you on a horse of her own, Lowry helping you to lead the typical patrol you did twice a week. It had been a long conversation between you and Joel many months ago, when winter was still chilling the air and frosting the ground overnight. But it was now warm, bordering on hot as the sun simmered over the Wyoming landscape. But today, he was busy in town helping to finish repairs that a spring storm had ravaged on a few of the powerlines. New posts being installed and a patrol gone out to the water plant nestled by the dam that allows for life to flourish here.

“We should.” You agree, mind lost in thoughts of the man already, the day he lost his life the one right before it. “Maybe we could have a little picnic at the cemetery, make his favorite foods and clean it up a bit.”

“That sounds perfect, Olive.”

The rest of the patrol is spent in easy comfortability, even as the younger girl tells you of her intentions to move into the house Joel had once occupied alongside Callie and Nolan. She had hesitantly taken up the brother of her new close friend on his offer for a drink one day, the memory of her past love giving her pause. But when she had told you of her trepidation, you had gently urged her to listen to her heart because she deserved the kind of life in which she could love and be loved in return. Everyone did, even the once ostracized and solemn soul you had been.

She had become a somewhat staple in your life now, and not one born of anxiety and constant worry of occasional interaction. Now she was right there beside you as you helped Callie to navigate the exciting early months of her baby’s life, giving her advice on how to keep them from getting too fussy over hunger and bouts of bad sleep. She had named the girl after you, your actual name something you seldom used even with new people. The nickname Tommy had given you sticking far better than it ever had, and to be honest you didn’t much feel like the woman who had carried that name throughout the early stages of your life.

Jackson giving you a second chance, an environment to change from the ways you had been forced to fight for survival. Just as the nickname had allowed you to feel like a better version of yourself, you smiled as it was muttered from the yawning mouth of a slowly waking Joel every morning. His arms curled around your middle, pulling you flush to him as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. His gravely good morning pressed to your skin through his soft lips this morning. Feeling more like the person you wanted to be alongside him, thanking the heavens and stars for aligning and allowing you two to cross paths.

Millie deserved that and you had told her as much. Neither of you mentioned how it almost seemed like she had wanted your approval and blessing to move on from the person that bonded you both.

Easy conversation flows between you both as you circle the wide perimeter of the settlement’s land. The sun now fully up in the bright blue sky. Birds and small mammals sing and chitter away as the horses make their way on the unmarked path, making you feel at ease almost as much as being out here with Joel does.

Once you’re back within the gates, the horses settled back in their stables, and Millie waving in parting do you feel the enormity of the day once away. The promise of meeting tomorrow for an early lunch at the cemetery lingers in the air. Sighing, you adjust the wide-brimmed hat atop your head and the button up shirt where it had rucked up slightly before pivoting your steps from the direction of your street to the front of the settlement.

Maria is overlooking papers set out before her, a fussy Macon in her lap covered in crumbs and remnants of her attempt at breakfast. He was beginning to eat solids, but he was a picky fellow much to your chagrin and his parents’ exasperation. Motherhood looked good on the woman, though you knew she had always carried that label. Fatherhood looked good on your dear friend Tommy, despite the worries and anxieties he had trusted you to keep to yourself when he shared them with you. He was in the line to get some food of his own, a plate that looked to be filled with the favorites of his wife’s directly from the kitchen beside his own empty one.

You sneak into the kitchen from the door by the buffet line up, steps quiet as you moved toward the back corner of the space that housed your little desk and stool by the dry goods storage. The mug you favored, one made of speckled ceramic and stained a faded orange was pulled from behind the recipe books you had been browsing the day before. The crops were different this year, the farmer’s almanac that had been saved from the actual city of Jackson before the world fell not accounting for the lack of carbon emissions and changed acidity of the soil. Planting would look different this year from last, and with it a new menu needed to be planned.

Even as you rifle through the papers with half a focused mind, you’re aware of the few in the kitchen remarking about your unusual midday visit. As your coffee dwindles down, an older teen who had approached you the other day asking if he could be on your service in the kitchen for his first assignment silently refills it and adds the cream he knows you favor in it. You offer him a small smile as he looks up from where he’s mixing it together in a perfect caramel color. He seems momentarily stunned as pink dusts his freckled cheeks and then he’s moving back to focus on his tasks for the day.

Tommy is popping his head in a few hours later, the scent of pine and the metallic of nails thick on him as he approaches. His hand clamps over your shoulder, a laugh tumbling from him as he notices the switch from coffee to a few fingers of whiskey you had made about an hour back.

“Workin’ hard, Olive?”

“Should ask you the same thing, all finished with the repairs?”

“Yeah, your old man headed home, might’ve worked him too hard today.”

“Hush, he probably did circles around you, and you know it.” You lightly tease as you bookmark the page your on with an old scrap of paper and shut the thick book. You turn to see him watching you with a soft expression, knowing that he’s done the right thing by checking up on you. You know he had seen you slip into the kitchen earlier, but he had let you be, figuring you would know best how to handle your emotions.

“Yeah, if my brother’s good at anything, it’s working himself to the bone. Did it a ton to support himself and Sarah, and me for that matter. Took any and every job he could get. Then didn’t want to bring anyone else on to cut the work because of the wages it would cost him.” He’s chiding the past version of his brother, knowing that for that moment in time, he would’ve done anything for his family. The harsh truth of that sentiment only flourished in the outbreak and subsequent loss of their third member. But you both know that Joel worked so hard to overcome what he had been transformed into because of that loss and the state of the world, you both see it every day how much he’s changed.

“She was lucky to have him as her father, he cares so much for her even now.” You feel his hand slip from your shoulder as you stand, his eyes watching you as you down the remainder of your drink. The ice clinks in the empty glass and you take it over to the industrial sink.

“He took that part of his life seriously, don’t think he ever rested unless she had everything she needed and wanted. I’m sure you were much the same, even if the circumstances were different.”

“He’s good like that, even if he doesn’t realize taking care of himself is just as important as taking care of others sometimes.”

“Sounds an awful lot like someone else I know.”

“Go blow smoke up someone else’s butt, I’m already makin’ you dinner.” You stick your tongue out at him, hoping he realizes just how grateful you are to have him in your life, a true friend.

“Just wanted to check if we were still on for that, I know today is…a lot and didn’t want to force anything if you weren’t up for it.” His eyes glint in the sunlight that takes over the kitchen as you hit the switch and turn off the artificial ones. You gather the casual button up you had shucked from your shoulders as the crew shut down the line for the afternoon, once the last of the food served, and began to clean. You had helped to wash some of the larger dish pans, not wanting them to feel like you were watching them without being obvious about it. No, you had willingly helped them to close down the kitchen for the day, thanking them all when they signed the sheet you reported to the council at each week’s end.

“It’ll make me feel better, to make food for those I care about. To share a meal at a full table, wallowing won’t do me any good.” The assurance is as much for you as it is for him as you both walk through the door and out into the back of the building. He walks you home in a comfortable silence, a grin taking over his lips as people call out your nickname and wave at you in greeting as they walk home themselves or sit out on their porches.

You feel a tug on your heartstrings as you turn onto your street and see the shadow of something on your porch steps. As you and Tommy get closer, it appears to be a basket full of daily essentials and a few jars of jam, butter, and one that suspiciously looked like malt liquor. A few letters are made out to you, your nickname written in looping scrawls and a casserole in a covered pan. Small things to help ease the pain of the day, the loss of someone in your life. A well-known fact around the settlement, the date marking one of the few tragedies it had encountered.

Tommy’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to him as he hears the hitch of your breath before a sob wracks through your body. It takes an embarrassingly long time for you to gather yourself, blubbering words of gratitude and appreciation at being seen and cared for as he guides you into your home and helps to put the basket up on the kitchen hutch and the casserole in the fridge. With a kiss to your temple and reassurance in the form of a watery smile, he leaves you to get ready for dinner and fetch the rest of the family.

You piddle around the house as you contemplate opening the letters, leaving them for later in the evening to sit in bed with Joel for him to read them to you. The attitude and negative attention on you still too fresh and tender for you to handle seeing what they had to say on your own, though you doubted any of it would have ill-intent. A shower calmed you down, allowing you to wash away the dried tears and the sweat that had soaked into your skin throughout the day. Giving you a moment to yourself before Ellie would be beside you in the kitchen, so willing to learn what you could teach her.

It’s a little too hot as the sun begins its descent to kiss the horizon, beating down on your exposed shoulders as you cross the expansive backyard to the workshop Joel had built for himself on the property. He had left a note for you to fetch him once dinner was done and you were doing just that. You rather liked the domesticity of sharing your home and your life with the man, something that only once been a deep seeded daydream but not it was your reality.

Ellie was busy plating up portions for everyone, a record playing softly in the living room. She was blossoming as well, her time spent here allowing her the chance to lead the later years of her teenage life as she should’ve been able to beforehand. Joel had made that possible, everything he had done and sacrificed allowing for a slice of peace for both of them. She resided on your property too, the dilapidated shed turned into a space for her to thrive on her own but still close enough to what she knew as a guardian and mentor in Joel.

He had shared with you one night the choices he had made to ensure she would be able to live, to continue to live. He had choked up, lamenting that he didn’t feel like he was a bad man for the things he did and chose to do if it paid off for them to have the life they have now. You had listened with an open mind and heart, knowing the turmoil he must feel all too well. You had done bad things as well, to ensure the life of Aiden, both of you determined to change as a second chance of redemption was offered.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got somethin’ for you.” He greeted you with a sweaty kiss to your cheek, his large hands guiding you to stand in front of the desk he had been seated at. The scent of wood shavings and his earthy body wash filling your senses. “I finally got it finished up for you, forgive me for the time it took and the well, you know.”

You look from his sheepish smile to the top of the desk when he nudged his head toward it. The months that had drawn on long and with too much communication hang heavy in the air as he references them, you try to blink them away, not wanting to dwell on what was but take the shift of time for what it is now, contentment and happiness. Loving and being loved in return. He presses himself against your back, his body comforting even despite the heat that still lingered in the evening air, as if he knows you’re lingering just as he does sometimes, on the additional months you both could’ve been wrapped around each other at night, share morning kisses as you wake up and wait for the coffee machine to putter, of patrols that are now almost like bi-weekly dates.

Atop the desk is two completed cutting boards made of olive wood. Sturdy, set on four little wooden legs that allow for them to be slightly raised from the desktop. Sandpaper lays to the side, the dust of his actions neatly swept away as you take in the carvings he had engraved, olive blossoms. You reach out a tentative hand, looking at him out of the corner of your eye for permission.

He presses a kiss to your neck, the soft hairs of his thick moustache tickling and pulling a giggle from your chest. He gently takes both your hands in his and lays them flat over the closest one, palms a calming weight over the backs of your hands. His arms are supportive around yours as he noses against your hair, still up in a messy bun once you had returned to town and removed your wide brimmed hat for the day. He breaths you in, quiet and waiting as you caress the gift he presented. The wood is dry, though you can see the slight shine of the sealant he had painted over them. The carvings are beautiful, a testament to his focus and devotion as he spends so much time out here after working to earn his place in the settlement.

“Joel…” Tears prickle behind your eyes, overwhelmed with the sight of the beautiful, crafted gifts being presented to you.

“Wanted them to be perfect, sweetheart. Know today isn’t the easiest for you and I wanted to try and cheer you up with ‘em.” His voice is a low timbre, shy almost as he shows you a part of his heart. Each time he does, it makes your own melt. He’s such a good man, even if he thinks he needs to work on it, to try at it, to actively change the chemistry of who he is to be so. But he was always good, deep down in the very core of who he is, it just got lost for a little bit and that’s okay. Because now he gets to be that good man once again, unapologetically. You’re turning in his arms, hands cupping his jaw to feel the patchy scruff that’s more grey than the brown that still peaks through and press your lips to his.

He's shifting too, hands trailing down from your bare shoulders and your back, following the curves of your hips to the outside of your thighs. Your breath hitches and the kiss breaks as he bears your weight to lift you up onto the desk, closing in to slip his tongue into your open mouth and his body between your legs. You feel the smile pulling at his lips, his favorite sound spurring him on. Kissing him is one of your favorite things in this broken world, he’s so soft, so responsive. His full lips plush and soft as they move against your own in a dance of adoration.

He preens underneath the soft touch, the gently exploration of your hands over his face. Telling you more than his words and actions that he had yearned for your touch long before he had felt it. Even now, it softened him, a light dusting of pink bloomed across his cheeks as he looses a breathy moan. His hands shift up from around your hips to cradle your face as you tangle yours in the tresses of his curls. Dizziness overtakes you as his lips press against yours again and again, the simple act to intimate and all encompassing. He kisses so deeply, passionately, hungrily, earning a whimper as his lips close around your bottom one to gently bite down.

He's breathless when he pulls back, tugging slightly on it before releasing it. His eyes are shadowed dark as they gaze into your own, lashes fluttering as his thumbs caress the tops of your cheeks. A different kind of heat flares in your chest and you stifle a giddy sound with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Dinner’s ready,” You halfheartedly say, not sure why nervous energy flows through you at the heated gaze he pins you with. Hooded eyes full of emotion as he leans forward with a rock of his hips against you for you to feel the bulge he’s doing nothing to conceal. Your legs rise to hook around his waist of their own accord and you feel the hardened thickness of him as he lazily ruts against you. The weight and thickness of him apparent even beneath the fabric as he shows you how much you affect him. The seam of your jeans is pressed just right by his movements and your head swims.

“Hungry for somethin’ else, baby.” He’s pulling the thin straps of your tank top down, warm mouth and slick tongue taking an exposed nipple into his mouth. Keening at the tug of his teeth, your hands tangle in his curls and your hips begin to move in tandem with his. Sawdust and dust mites explode into the air as the desk begins to rock along with your combined movements.

“J-Joel, please.”

He only hums around the bud between his teeth, nibbling before he moves to the other and does the same. His hand grip your ribs tight, the fabric bunched beneath your breasts doing nothing to dispel the heavy press of his fingers against your skin as he begins to move faster, desperately against you.

“C’mon, let go for me, sweetheart,” His tongue laves over your neck, teeth biting into the skin as he moves up to catch your swollen lips once again. He swallows down the whimpers and moans as if they’re the only thing he wants to consume, as if they could sustain him from now until the end of his days. His teeth clack against yours in the sloppy way you try to return the kiss, body rocking against his.

Suddenly, pleasure ripples through you, the bundle of nerves he’s thrusting against twitching as your body tenses around him. He groans his own sound against your chin as he feels the convulses of your release cascade through your body. His own so close, his hips stutter before he’s biting into the juncture of your jaw as you feel him twitch and dampen the front of his own jeans.

“You’re so good for me, always sound so sweet, love you so much,” He’s peppering kisses all over your dazed face, the corners of your eyes, the tip of you nose, the top of your forehead, your heated cheeks, everywhere he could reach without fulling back completely. His scruff tickles and scrapes lightly at your skin, pulling breathy giggles from you even as he fixes your top back the way it was. You’re gasping as his thumbs trail over your nipples through the fabric, body still singing from the orgasm he easily pulled from you.

His own chuckle is raspy, as he helps you to stand on wobbling legs. A hand around your waist as he walks along with you through the backyard, eyes lingering on the olive trees beginning to bloom their precious, white flowers. Cascading golden hour sunlight fills the sky as you hold tight to Joel’s hand and press a quiet ‘I love you’ into his skin. The smile he catches on your lips brings out one of his own and he’s pressing it to your temple as he ushers you up the few back steps to the house.

“Started without you,” Ellie’s voice calls from the kitchen as she hears you both enter through the back door from the enclosed porch.

“We’ll be right there.” Joel calls his answer before he’s ushering you into your shared room. A change of clothes and a couple of quick stolen kisses later and all three of you are sitting around the table in front of a big spread of different dishes. All put together by you with the help of the interested teen even if her attention span wasn’t exactly fit for keeping up with boiling and stirring as she had excitedly told you of the new comic she was reading curtesy of yours and Joel’s last overnight patrol to Teton. Tommy and Maria corralling a toddling Macon through the front of the house are the last puzzle pieces of a perfect evening.

taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

@part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel

@blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @amyispxnk @wand-erer5

dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

320 notes · View notes

aernx · 2 years ago

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꒰ 💭 ꒱ OH, NIKI YOU’RE SO FINE! ˖ ⌨︎ ⁩◞❪니키❫

— SYNOPSIS ୨୧ ! Lesson learned ! never ever accept a dare from Heesung! Dared to tweet about how attractive your best friend was, you miss-typed ‘m’ with ‘n’ who apparently turned out to be the name of some guy in the basketball team? Oh how embarrassing!

or in which 𓂅 nishimura riki woke up to a sudden paragraph long compliment from his crush (who didn’t even knew he existed)

PART 1/2 OF THE LOVE LASTING DREAM SERIES

— with love on the line ! 𖥻⏱️ ぃ ˑ (pairing) non idol!nishimura riki x non idol!fem reader — 𓄹 ࣪ ִֶָ 🧂 ࣪ ▸

「 GENRE 」 ! STRANGERS to LOVERS, friends? to lovers, he fell first she fell harder, fluff, crack, highschool au, smau w writen parts, kinda one sided crush typa thing.

— the risk, are u willing to take it ? 𖥻🥛ぃ ˑ (featuring) enhypen, winter aespa, beomgyu txt, jeongin skz, minho skz, etc — 𓄹 ࣪ ִֶָ 🎯 ࣪ ▸

「 WARNINGS 」 ! cursing (ofc), denial denial denial!!, anxiety, jealousy, overthinking, angst (w happy ending), dying jokes, kys jokes, and those kinda stuffs

「 NOTES 」 ! This is NOT how i view these idols! this smau is js for fun and crack ykyk as well as js for fictional purposes only! feel free to send asks to talk abt this smau w me!!!

( 💬 means there r written parts! )

NOTICE ! please DO NOT spam like, bc it will shadowban me

「 TAGLIST 」 ! CLOSED

status COMPLETE ! 25/04/23 — 23/06/23 ﹟╳×

CHAPTER INDEX ! ˖ ࣪⭑

⊹ ˚. PROFiLES . . ! ONE ⋮ TWO ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰

▹ SIDE A ᶻz

001. omg hit tweet

002. he can pull??

003. u still love me right?

004. let me be delulu

005. lover with a $ sign

006. he’s kinda??

007. help i’m dying here

008. lemme make it up to u

009. careful w ur feelings

010. living the dream

011. just us?

012. ur turning into heeseung

013. cute (friendly) date 💬

014. kay why es

015. watch me?

016. what is this betrayal

017. ykw i get the hype 💬

018. jake’s cupid era

019. sunoo is my rolemodel

020. your biggest supporter 💬

▹ SIDE B ᶻz

021. too much?

022. must’ve been why

023. like she played me

024. sleep well baby riki

025. sunoo has a plan… 💬

026. hi pretty girl

027. not now, not ever 💬

028. what are you planning

029. something feels wrong

030. did i ruin it all?

031. he makes me feel content

032. don’t you get it?

033. i’m sorry

034. your pretty girl

035. you’ll always be my winner

Heeseung spinoff : it’s a wrap!

THE END !!

#niki smau #niki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen x reader #ni ki enhypen #niki x y/n #enhypen niki #niki x you #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen riki #riki x y/n #riki x you #enhypen imagines #enhypen

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enhypencores · 6 months ago

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Bleed Me Dry Pt II

READ PART 1 HERE

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 11K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandere, manipulation, mentions of self exit, drugs, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

PS: I’d love to hear your feedback <3

Heeseung had gathered some crucial knowledge from a heavily drunk Jake.

“Intelligent and tall. She’s got a thing for them… She had this crush on a dude in the first semester. Told her he was a jerk, didn’t listen, and you know… he broke her heart. His name? Think it was park jeong guk? jeong woo? I don’t know… It was just some guy. She’s stupid…”

He had wanted to punch that knowing look off Jake’s face as he insulted you, but Heeseung tried swallowing down the surging fury.

Because, indeed, you were so stupid. Why had you allowed some loser into your life? When Heeseung gets you, he will make sure to treasure every part of you. He wouldn’t need anyone else. He would use his every breath to cherish you, only you.

Despite the hostility he felt upon hearing of your previous crush, the good news was that Heeseung unintentionally matched the description. He had never been so grateful for his genes until this moment; traits he once considered useless suddenly becoming his most prized.

Heeseung bore a good height, and his mind was like a computer program. At just ten years old, his father had assumed he’d discover the cure for cancer—yet to come true, but everyone in college believed if anyone could do it, it was Lee Heeseung.

A special one, born to lead, a saviour, they claimed. But Heeseung never wanted to be his father’s golden child. He didn’t want to contribute to society or garner the world’s praise. He barely had friends—except for Kim Sunoo, Heeseung’s childhood partner in crime.

To the world, Heeseung was an overachiever, but he knew his excellence was merely a distraction from his twisted mind. His father was the first to notice the disconnect.

Heeseung chose medicine on a whim, a flick of a coin—heads or tails. The boredom in his life drove him to try everything: paragliding, boxing, swimming, drugs and unrestrained, animalistic sex. He had lived countless lives in two decades.

Early teenage years, his father took it upon himself to train his son, instilling social norms and enforcing strict rules as he tried moulding Heeseung into someone 'normal.' Like a dog on a leash, he made Heeseung more human while maintaining a safe distance to avoid getting scratched. Heeseung understood this from the moment he gained consciousness: his father was scared of him. Terrified.

He never discovered what exactly made his father lock his door every night, but whatever it was, it confirmed a small suspicion: Heeseung was unlovable.

It wasn’t anything detrimental really, because Heeseung never felt the need to seek love. Even in psychological terms, a human's absolute necessities were food, shelter, sex, and safety. When he could survive on the bare minimum, why should he look for something as wasteful as love? He'd rather spend time gaming and pretending to outshine the world’s brilliant minds.

Now, Heeseung was tired of the boredom. So tired that he thought to end it. How long could one treck through an aimless journey?

The realisation that he could cease to exist and no one would know his whereabouts made him feel somewhat better. The taste of death brought him immense curiosity. Would he turn to dust and ashes? Would he be forgotten in memories?

He didn’t think anyone would remember him. To his father, he was a trophy; to his friends, a competition; and to outsiders, a freak. His loss would merely be a statistic: a decline in Korea’s population digits, a decrease in the number of distinction holders in the country, and one less student in Seoul University’s register.

That’s what he thought.

Until he came across you.

You, with your brown eyes, small frame, your liveliness and your beauty.

It was a rainy day in Seoul when he was walking past the bus stand after wrecking his father’s beloved car in a deliberate crash. Unfortunately, he made it out unscathed, only injuring the vehicle. Maybe Heeseung had been born with a shit ton of luck, destined to waste it away.

Regardless, thanks to that golden tub of luck, he was able to land his gaze on you. Heeseung unintentionally remembered countless formulae and research, but the one thing he intended to remember—fucking forced himself to perfectly encode in his memory—was the way you looked that day.

Brown hair slightly wet, sticking to your jawline, knitted brows, and wide eyes staring up at the sky in vengeful retaliation. Heeseung stopped in his tracks.

He had never seen an angel angry.

You dialled a number on your mobile and spoke calmly into your phone.

“The bus is running late. Pick me up.” He remembered a sulking pout on your lips.

“It’s raining! I don’t even have an umbrella. You want me to walk?” He remembered incredulous horror written across your features, lips frowning at the caller’s words.

“Fine... Please! There, I said it, now come quick.” He remembered you rolling your eyes, biting your lip and clenching your bag’s strap tighter.

The phone call ended, and you folded your arms over your chest, letting the damp material cling to your bust, detailing the line of your bra as you tapped your foot on the drenched footpath, staring ahead in longing.

That day, an inactive section of his brain burst out with life, that’s all he could theorise. He wanted to devour you, grope your drenched body, kiss your red mouth, force his fingers into your most sensitive tissues and consume your cries.

He wanted to destroy the person on that call with you, bury them within the earth’s deepest pits so they’d never return to you. He wanted the earth to swallow you and him together, so he could hide you away and savour this moment. He wanted to be the only existence to remember you, here, standing at the bus stop, waiting for a ride home.

Why were you here alone anyway? Who was coming?

Heeseung wanted to shadow you from the rain. If he was a part of your life, he’d chase away all the buses—let alone make you wait for one to pick you up. He would stand drenched in the rain if it meant your ass would only meet the covers of his seat.

A booming motion of the car made your eyes light up. Heeseung’s chest knotted up, a foreign emotion bubbling in his throat as a blonde braked his car before you. You hurried to climb into the passenger’s seat, and then he drove away. Just like that.

He hadn’t hurt someone so far in this life, but the urge to drive a car into the blonde grew tenaciously strong. He had never felt such hatred and venom consume his being. The thought of you getting into that car, going away to share a life Heeseung wasn’t a part of left a gnawing anger in his chest.

His heart which hadn’t felt something in so long suddenly felt alive, riveting with twisted emotions. Heeseung didn’t want to live, but suddenly he didn’t want to die either. He didn’t wish to be remembered, but suddenly he wanted at least one person to remember.

That day he came to a staggering conclusion: Heeseung was unfit to be loved, but he wasn’t unfit to love.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Peak hours on a Monday afternoon started early. Waitresses ambled from one table to another, carrying orders as the room bustled with young college students, conversing and gossiping while awaiting their snacks. The rich essence of chocolate and coffee beans filled the air, stirring hunger among individuals working alone with their noses in laptops and textbooks.

Heeseung’s lips curved in a knowing smile: if you were here, you’d be one of those unaccompanied goody two shoes, sipping on a chocolate milkshake, jotting things down in your notebook. He pictured your brows scrunched as you wrapped your beautiful lips around the straw, gulping long sips and pulling away with a content smile.

“Baby, can’t we go somewhere more private?”

His jaw tightened, aggravated at the shrill interruption. He feigned a smile, his gaze falling back on the red-haired bimbo who stared at him like he was the answer to her every prayer.

Heeseung grabbed a fork, scooping up a bite of strawberry cheesecake before filling his mouth. His stomach fluttered as he revelled in the sweet texture. Ever since stealing those kisses, he couldn’t stop craving sweet treats. He even bought some candies on his way home that morning, already feeling the withdrawals kicking in.

“But how’ll we do this—in private?”

The girl stared in confusion before she was yanked into his embrace, his warm lips slamming into hers, kissing her aggressively, the sweet creaminess from the cake transferring into her mouth. She moaned, licking his lips incessantly, begging for entrance, but Heeseung dismissed her attempts, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

Nervously, the red-haired girl slid her chair closer, biting her lip as she observed the underwhelmed expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” She sulked, sucking at her teeth, staring up with concern.

Heeseung shook his head and pulled her into his lap. “Did you do something to make me mad?” He mumbled, rubbing his nose down her neck, peppering small kisses to distract her from his response.

“Ah—n-no! I didn’t,” she gasped, her concern melting away already, her head tilting back as Heeseung planted kisses down her collarbone.

“Shouldn’t you be at uni right now?” He abruptly changed the topic, portraying the perfectly caring boyfriend who gave a shit about her life.

“Yeah, but I’ll ask a friend for the class notes,” she mustered up, her breath laborious as Heeseung ran his hand down her thigh, his kisses growing feistier against her exposed neck.

“Hm, are you that smart?” He pressed on, his patience running out. “Thought I’d fucked you dumb already,” he whispered repulsive words, his hand covering her thighs as the girl tightened in his hold, her lips pressed together to silence any sound, cautious of their surroundings.

Heeseung’s gaze changed, a menacing darkness flashing through. “Smart bitches,” he began, his words blunt and aggressive. “Fucking hate them. Running their big mouths all the damn time,” he declared, his bitter tone making her knees quiver in arousal.

“Tell me, baby, you’re not one of those, are you?” He urged.

One way to access a woman’s weaknesses was to put her up against another.

The girl whose name he had forgotten the second she uttered it, shook her head with desperation. Had he asked her to admit to murder, she would have agreed.

“No!” She yelped, alarmed at his lack of interest. “I’m so dumb. Barely passing this degree,” she confessed, her voice cracking as she spread her knees for his attention.

“Hm—really?” He mocked, and she nodded, her body pleading for his approval. “But your course is so tough. You must be so smart.” Heeseung’s tone dripped with sarcasm, his frown hinting at his displeasure.

The girl choked; her breaths alarmingly rapid as Heeseung’s fingers trailed closer to her clothed centre. “But not me—there’s some smart girls in my class. I—I’m not like them, Hee,” she rambled, her eyes screwing shut.

“Smart girls like—yourself?” He threw the bait, challenging her, and she immediately shook her head, her body jolting as Heeseung flicked his fingers against her centre.

“Not me—not me. This other girl—Ah!” She bit her tongue, her body trembling as Heeseung drew faint circles against her clit. “There’s—Y/N!”

Bingo.

“She’s like the smartest—oh!”

Heeseung halted his movement, his teeth gritting in frustration, anger bubbling up his throat as the girl kept moaning into her words, prolonging this ordeal. He hadn’t spent the last three days coercing a second-year pharmacology student from your college to serenade and romance. He wanted information.

The girl’s arched frame twisted at the sudden lack of touch, her wet gaze darting to Heeseung’s in urgency.

“Speak,” he commanded bluntly, his usual sugar-coated tone gone along with his smile.

The girl’s expression faltered, her blood turning cold. “Uh—there’s this girl—she’s really smart, always acing her exams,” she responded reluctantly, her insecure gaze attempting to read his intentions.

Heeseung’s hand slid back down to her leaking centre, his movement more vigorous as he wrapped his lips on her earlobe. “You’re so hot like this—like a dumb bitch for me,” he drawled, sucking her sensitive flesh.

His sudden shift in demeanour seemed like a hallucination, his voice now intentionally low and sultry. “You wouldn’t want to be like Y/N, hm? You’re my good girl.”

The girl was a goner. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, her eyes shut, and her body trembling from his touch, his previous indifference a distant memory.

“Yeah—I am—so—so dumb for you,” she babbled nonsensically. Heeseung’s flicks quickened.

“That bitch—she’s so smart and talks too much, probably why no one likes her. Such a loser— I don’t know why Park Jongseong’s crazy for her.”

Heeseung’s arm faltered, his body freezing.

The girl, lost in the throes of her arousal, ignored it, urgently pressing her hand down to maintain the pressure. “She’s so full of herself. Bet she’s as virgin as a nun—but maybe—she finally let poor Jongseong have a go, who kno—Ah!”

Heeseung yanked her hair back, his clenched fist tightening and ripping a few strands. His gaze was predatory, chest heaving as he stared down at the horrified girl.

“I’ll rip that tongue out, sweetheart,” he hissed, his venomous tone cutting through and gripping her heart with horror.

The sickening words replayed like a broken record. A searing sting flared inside his chest, his jaw tightening as he thought of that name: Park Jongseong.

Of course, it was the guy from the photos—it fit him perfectly. His arrogant, self-righteous demeanour, that overly exaggerated smile on his face as he held you. It had to be him.

The imagery the stupid girl on his lap painted, her words dripping with malice for his Y/N; everything began to suffocate his lungs.

Heeseung stared down, his hand still gripping her locks as she looked at him with disbelief.

As he released his grip, she winced, her eyes wet with tears.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around her waist like a shackle, holding her captive as he leaned forward and picked up the steaming hot coffee she had ordered. She flinched as he pushed the cup to her lips.

“Drink.”

The girl stared at him like he had grown two heads.

“It’s too hot—”

“Leave one sip behind, and you’ll wish you had listened.”

Her heart raced, body turning cold. Heeseung’s chilling gaze and crooked smile were laced with demonic intent, making her stomach churn. She had never felt her organs shrivel with just the sight of a man’s empty gaze.

She realised at that very moment. She had to obey or else… she didn’t even want to consider what could happen.

She took the heated cup, gulping down her spit to ease the pressure in her throat.

Then she clung to the cup and downed the entire thing. The first rush of liquid scalded the roof of her mouth. Burns trailed down her tongue, to her throat, buzzing all the way into her stomach. Bloody broils flared up, her muscles jolting in agony as pain overwhelmed her cognition. With an excruciating sob, she dropped the empty cup, shattering it on the ground as she tried screaming for help.

The busy café didn’t seem to notice anything but the shatter, rolling their eyes at the couple’s antics before continuing with their own endeavours.

Heeseung patted her head, smiling in satisfaction. “That’s my good girl.”

The sobbing girl tore herself from his lap. Standing on quivering limbs, she scrambled to grab her purse and dashed towards the exit.

To Heeseung’s delight, the red-haired bimbo wasn’t so useless after all. He now had a name: Park Jongseong.

Grabbing his phone, Heeseung dialled a number.

“Sim, for your birthday, let’s plan something crazy.”

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

The homeroom buzzed with chatter as students scattered to join their friends at the end of the lecture. While most were preparing to head home, you had to stay back for the weekly council meeting. With your head slack on the table, you shut your eyes and let out an irked groan, wishing you could abandon all your duties and just scramble home.

“Y/N, just resign already. You’re too exhausted,” Yeji, your best friend, called out, rolling her eyes as she zipped up her tote bag.

You groaned again, slamming your head against the table. “You have no idea how badly I want to take your stupid advice,” you whined, rubbing your temples in pain.

Yeji, her pink hair perfectly styled, retouched her lip gloss and eyed your sulking frame. “You take on too much for no reason,” she sighed, finishing her touch-up and patting your head.

“Can’t you loosen up? Look at me, we have finals coming up, and I’m off clubbing with Jaemin,” she gloated, her smile widening at the thought of her boyfriend.

Getting into the world’s best university on an eighty per cent scholarship was tough, but no one prepared you for the strenuous part: upholding those perks. Paired with a demanding course load, extracurriculars and volunteer work felt like a constant nuisance.

“I wish…” you muttered.

Knowing her best friend’s upright nature, Yeji shook her head in defeat.

“Besides that, I’ll be having fun soon,” you iterated, and Yeji instantly grew alert, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“You’re getting a boyfriend?” She gasped, grabbing your shoulders to turn you towards her in excitement.

“No!” You dismissed, and Yeji’s excitement died as soon as it began, releasing your shoulders in frustration.

“At this point, I strongly believe you wish to die a virgin,” she remarked, running her fingers through her dark strands, her gaze cold. “You even rejected Jongseong,” Yeji huffed.

You winced.

It had been three months since you had been hit by a truck of feelings from the raven-haired boy. Three months of discomfort and pain.

You were introduced to your senior, Park Jongseong, as a good friend of Na Jaemin. The two friend groups had merged, and soon the initial trio—Yeji, Ji-min, and you—grew an acquaintanceship with their group: Jay, Jaemin, and Jisung.

Since you had been to an all-girls school, the first few months of interactions were painstakingly awkward. You felt like an outsider even in a room full of familiar people.

You envied your best friends Yeji and Ji-min for their effortless socialisation skills. Whilst they enjoyed trips and study sessions with the guys, you drew a line, only speaking when spoken to.

In the first year, you were constantly running away from this new world of discomfort. Jay, however, refused to draw a barrier. Like the definition of a headstrong man, he never gave up. Gestures like stopping you in the hallways to talk about his hobbies and inviting you to all his parties showed you that Jay was making a real effort at friendship.

All of it came tumbling down when he confessed to you. The friendship you treasured faded, and you both became strangers again.

“Don’t bring him up,” you gritted, your heart plummeting as you remembered all the distant memories.

You recalled that nightmarish day. You might take this to your grave but Park Jongseong was your first crush. You secretly liked him throughout the farce of friendship.

He held your bag after class, joined extracurriculars like the music society and learned amazing guitar skills. He took you shopping to destress after you failed your lab assessment and played silly nursery rhymes on his guitar to make you laugh. Everything was special until the last day of the second semester.

Jay had asked you to a movie, and as always, you assumed he meant everyone in the friend group, so you called Yeji and Ji-min along.

The moment he saw you walk in with the girls, his expression fell with dismay. Instead of speaking to you about it, he handed the popcorn to your friends and left.

You followed him instantly, but maybe you shouldn’t have.

“Jay!” You chased after him, your heels thudding against the pavement, confusion painted on your features.

He paused in his tracks and turned, his eyes darkening.

“What’s wrong?”

Instead of responding, Jay’s gaze narrowed, a strained chuckle leaving his mouth. “Don’t act dumb now,” he rasped, his voice bitter.

You opened your mouth to question him, but he suddenly stepped close, his towering frame making your insides queasy.

“It’s always the same with you. How long will you pretend?” Jay’s voice trembled with accusation.

“Do you not see me? Chasing after you like a fucking loser. I’ve spent months trying to figure you out. Stop this game of hide and seek!” He roared, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he stared down at you like a wounded wolf.

You felt so wronged and hurt, your throat clogging up with emotions.

Because Jay was right. You were playing dumb, looking past his feelings, ignoring your own to hide away. Your insecurities and fear of disappointment were louder than his words, ringing in your head like tinnitus.

Because you had always assumed someone as rich and well-put-together as Park Jongseong didn’t need to like a mediocre girl on a scholarship.

You felt that breaking his heart might save his friendship, might save you from the pain of losing his love. So you wanted to sever all chances before you even tasted his love.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever once liked me?” He questioned, his gaze softening as he held your face in his hands, his pupils trembling with need.

Yes.

Yes!

“No.”

His arms dropped, his gaze dull and empty as he stared into your tearful eyes.

“We’re good friends, Jay. Look, we don’t have to rush into anything—”

You felt chills run down your spine as he cut off your words, his tone sharp and damaging.

“Delete my number. Don’t ever come see me.”

“And if I ever accidentally find my way back to you, slap me awake like this again.”

He tore his arm from your grip and you two never spoke again.

And then a week later, he started dating your friend Ji-min.

“Y/N!” You snapped out of your thoughts, head swirling with flashbacks as Yeji shouted for your attention. “What fun were you referring to?” She shifted closer, curiosity written across her features.

You smiled, flicking her forehead away.

“Jake suddenly wants a big birthday bash for his twenty-second,” you told her, thinking back to this morning when he was talking over the phone with his friends, inviting them to his party.

Seeing you pass by, he called you back, his face glowing with excitement as he ended the call.

“Invite all your friends and their mamas— it’s my 22nd!” He roared, and you imagined he’d burst into a Taylor Swift, ‘22’, any minute now.

“Jake? He usually calls them juvenile,” Yeji giggled, thinking back to the time she had a fat crush on your brother and how she stuck to him like a leech until he shooed her off.

You nodded, rolling your eyes at your brother’s weird mood swings. “He wants to hold a grand party. You’re invited, I guess,” you waved her off, and Yeji laughed, her eyes twinkling in joy.

“Of course, I’ll be coming with my boo,” she winked. “Is it at the house?” Yeji asked, twirling her strands excitedly.

You shook your head, tidying your desk and packing up. “He’s planning it with his friend, Heeseung.”

Yeji gasped at the name as if it had evoked a cocktail party effect, her eyes wide as she held onto your shoulders. “That friend you had a wet dream of?”

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide in fear, darting across the hall to make sure no one heard her. “Shut up!” You yelled, your cheeks flushed red, the memory of your filthy mind fuelling your embarrassment.

Yeji laughed, a playful glint flashing in her hazel eyes. “What, did I lie?” She crudely announced, and you felt helpless, unable to feign innocence.

The night had left you shaken up. The truth was, you had never felt this affected by a hallucination— imagination, whatever it was, it blurred the lines between reality and fiction. You imagined Heeseung fondling your breasts, kissing your lips. All of it was a newfound hunger.

You scrambled to call Yeji soon after to regain some composure. After a long discussion, her diagnosis was a ‘severe case of ovulation’, and she prescribed, ‘getting dicked down asap’.

After that night, you kept wishing for more hallucinations, but your brain refused to cooperate. You had to rely on a picture you had stolen from Jake’s phone of Heeseung in a black button-down with his legs spread apart on the couch, his lap seeming so inviting that your abdomen clenched with need.

Maybe, you were ovulating. But why was it so intense?

“You know, maybe you should shoot your shot with him,” Yeji suggested, patting your shoulder as she stood alert, waving at the man standing in the doorway.

“My ride’s here, bye girly!” Yeji waved, setting her already perfect hair for the nth time before skipping to the smiling blonde, his gaze practically shooting hearts at your friend. Jaemin grabbed her hand, and they scattered off.

You sighed.

Lee Heeseung, what are you doing to me?

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Booming music drowned out any chance of conversation. Guests sprawled in like ants to a sugar cube. Faces glowed with joy, arms carried gifts, and gazes sparkled with anticipation as they searched for the man of honour.

But it wasn't the birthday boy they sought. It was Lee Heeseung, the man who had invited the entire university to his farmhouse. It was a privilege, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

During his four years at the university, he hadn’t spared anyone a glance—let alone befriended anyone. When news circulated of Sim Jaeyun’s birthday invite at Heeseung’s, everyone jumped at the chance.

Girls skipped lessons to find the perfect dress, while guys ransacked their wardrobes for branded watches. Curiosity grew almost sleep-depriving. Who was this friend that Heeseung, the man who never let anyone into his circle, deemed worthy of a lavish party? For weeks, the university buzzed with gossip and excitement leading up to this day.

Heeseung’s gaze was fixed on the main entrance, his lips pressed into a thin line. He remained unmoving as over-enthusiastic people rushed to greet him.

He knew the world like the back of his hand. They hated him and despised his arrogance, yet they flocked to him like moths to a flame. All he had to do was give them a chance, let down his guard and the world would surrender in his palms. But it didn’t matter.

As long as he had your attention, the world could be his.

Jake appeared out of nowhere, his arm settling on Heeseung’s shoulder, smiling as his soccer mates walked in.

“You’re ignoring the entire hall,” Jake muttered, his grip tightening on Heeseung’s shoulder to warn him.

Heeseung glanced at the clock for the nth time, his fingers tapping impatiently against his glass. He barely acknowledged the birthday boy's attempt at conversation, his irritation mounting as the clock ticked on without your presence.

“Where is she?” He questioned.

“She had a presentation to finish up,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “She’ll be here with Yeji and Jaemin soon.”

Jake wasn’t stupid. He had once believed he was special to Heeseung. The notorious case of Heeseung’s egocentrism was a popular topic in the university’s hallways. Even his soccer buddies claimed Heeseung was a nutcase with extreme intelligence.

When Heeseung approached the basketball team and defeated Jake, the established ace of Seoul University, Jake developed a sense of respect and admiration for him. Despite everyone’s claims, Jake realized Heeseung’s issue wasn’t indifference or social deficiencies.

Everyone was infatuated, enthralled, and unequivocally aware of Heeseung’s gift; he commanded attention because he was extraordinary. The problem was that Heeseung didn’t care about them, and when people realized this, their fantasy shattered, leaving them scraping for bits of attention and bitter envy.

Jake knew Heeseung kept him around for a reason, but despite his awareness, Jake was willing to be a pawn if it meant catching Heeseung’s attention.

“Jakey Jakey— it’s your birthday!” Jake looked away, finding his best friend, Park Sunghoon, on the other end of the hall with a gift bag. Jake’s smile grew, and he signalled to Heeseung that he was heading over. Heeseung nodded, and Jake scurried off.

Heeseung averted his gaze, staring back at the main entrance. The delay grew unbearable, and he considered heading out to the parking lot when suddenly he spotted Jaemin and Yeji walking inside.

He stood alert, his gaze tensely fixed on the door.

He held his breath as you walked into his line of sight. His body felt the shift, breath quickening. His fists tightened, and his gaze traced your body with unfiltered haste.

Fuck, that black body-con dress, outlining your curves, hugging your body like a second skin. His grip on the glass tightened. The dress revealed your defined collarbones, and the slit from the knee paired with black-heeled boots showcased your smooth, honeyed legs. Your hair was curled slightly, silky strands falling in waves against your cheeks, reaching your elbows.

Heeseung’s head throbbed as he tried to decipher his feelings. Seeing you walk inside with that dress made something rise in his throat, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. It was worse, mentally and physically damaging.

How fucking demeaning. He was a man who never felt the burn of envy, but a fucking dress had him feeling so weak—so horribly jealous.

He wished he could tear it off and burn it to ashes like the scorching flames in his own blood. He had planned this moment all morning, intending to walk up to you with a smile, but now he found it difficult to breathe, let alone move.

However, the world doesn’t stop. Even if he couldn’t move, you very much could.

Your stray gaze finally landed on the familiar figure, and you walked up to him. You still weren’t mentally prepared to face the man you had been dreaming of for the past few weeks, but you found it unkind to ignore him when he had planned this lavish party.

You smiled, holding out a small gift bag.

“As far as I recall, it’s not my birthday,” Heeseung finally found his voice, his cheeky comment making you narrow your eyes.

“It’s basic etiquette to bring something when you visit someone,” you replied a hint of playfulness in your tone. You caught sight of the gift display in the backdrop where innumerable presents were mounted on the table. “I’ll take it there,” you politely acknowledged.

You were ready to walk off, but Heeseung pulled you back, instantly grabbing the present. Taken aback, you opened your mouth to question him, but he ignored your curious gaze.

Everyone stealing reserved glances at the duo paused, their eyes wide, jaws dropped in amusement. Like a boy opening his Christmas gifts, Heeseung rushed to untie the ribbon and tear through the wrapping paper.

“Heeseung, it’s not that great…” your panicked voice cut through, cautious of everyone’s expectant gaze on your gift. The plea went right through him, and he finally discovered a small clear bottle.

You brought him cologne.

You had racked your brain for days on what to bring him, and you had decided upon a blackberry cologne. The succulent scent carried a sinful aura, an intimidating and enigmatic aroma that perfectly captured Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung ran his thumb over the label. Then he unscrewed the top and sprayed it on his wrist. As he brought it to his nose, his heart felt fuller than before.

He imagined you walking into a Jo Malone store, attentively trying numerous scents until the abundant smells overstimulated your senses as you thought of him. How long did you spend deciding on the perfect one? How long did he manage to fill up your head?

“It’s just a small gift,” you mumbled, analysing his features.

“It’s perfect.” He said it with so much sincerity, you had no choice but to believe him.

“Where’s my gift?” Jake appeared with some of his rowdy friends from the sports club, his arm linked with the ice skater, Park Sunghoon. He pouted dramatically, his bottom lip sticking out. You rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Last I checked, you asked me to buy you a Nintendo Switch as an early birthday present,” you replied. Jake gave you a mock glare. “That was ages ago,” he huffed.

Before you could retort, you caught Yeji's eyes from across the room. She stood by the bar, urgently motioning for you to come over. The alarmed look on her face made you excuse yourself from the guys as you hurried to her.

Yeji grabbed your arm with an intense grip, struggling to catch her breath as a crazed laugh bubbled up her throat.

“You’re kidding,” she gasped. “You were talking about Lee Heeseung!” She roared with laughter, her expression priceless as she turned to you.

You stared at her, confused. “What?”

“Y/N!” She shook you slightly, her wide eyes trembling with excitement. “You don’t know him? He’s popular across the entire district!”

Seeing your blank expression, Yeji took it upon herself to fill you in. She pulled out her phone and showed you Seoul University's popular forum dedicated to Heeseung. As she clicked through the links, you realised the man was practically the definition of perfection.

His father owned a large-scale pharmaceutical corporation, and Heeseung was the sole heir. Despite this parental security, he was at the top of his classes, captain of the basketball team, head of the arts and music society, and president of student affairs. By his second semester, he had already secured an internship at HYBE, a massive healthcare conglomerate—separate from his father’s influence. He was so incredibly intelligent that the college even commemorated his achievements with dedicated newsletter columns and interview sessions.

As you absorbed this overwhelming information, Yeji’s tone flattened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But, Y/N, he’s known as a player,” she reluctantly added. “Apparently, there hasn’t been a girl he hasn’t had.”

You stared silently at the soles of your boots.

Of course, he was a player. Anyone would drop to their knees for a chance to be with him. You had read somewhere that gravitational pull was the strongest in a black hole, but science hadn’t investigated the world’s pull towards Heeseung. You had only met him a couple of days ago, yet he had already made you feel so unbearably enraptured.

Ruminating over Yeji’s words, you were speechless at your own disappointment. How could he affect you so terribly?

“But—he’s never had anything serious,” Yeji tried to console you, squeezing your shoulder.

Throat tightening, you attempted a smile.

“Who invited them?” Yeji's gasp broke through your thoughts, her mouth hanging open, eyes bulging in shock as she stared behind you.

You shifted, turning to see what had her so stunned.

Your jaw dropped.

In walked a couple, hand in hand, wearing complimentary outfits. A couple you hadn’t spoken to in ages, a couple that haunted your sleepless nights: Park Jongseong and Yu Ji-min.

Your frantic gaze searched for Jake, conflicting emotions swirling across your face as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your older brother stood inattentive, engrossed in a conversation with Sunghoon as Jay approached him, wearing a broad smile. You watched them exchange a quick handshake, Jake accepting a large gift box.

“Why would Jake invite him?” Yeji huffed.

You didn’t know—but a gut feeling told you this was meant to happen.

The familiar gaze met yours. He was now heading to the leather couch beside his girlfriend, his eyes trained on you. You offered him a tight smile, your insides trembling in growing anxiety.

Jay was stern, his gaze cold and disdainful. Whilst maintaining eye contact, he pulled his girlfriend to sit on his lap, his grip tight on Ji-min’s waist as she whispered something into his ear.

Your smile dropped at his immaturity.

You had lost both your friends, Jay and Ji-min, because of your mistakes. You had avoided them like the plague, and something deep within you suggested that the mysterious rumours circulating around the university weren’t just random gossip; they were spread by someone you had once considered as close as Yeji.

Something more sinister gnawed at your insides.

Heeseung.

Amidst the chaos, you felt someone’s piercing gaze on you. Like a magnet, you found him. Under the blue strobe light, Heeseung stood leaning against the bar’s counter, flanked by a few girls, with his eyes fixed on you, watching like a hawk.

Though he was a stranger—a complete nobody in your world—you still felt he was reading you like an open book. Anxiety washed over you, your throat drying up under his intense scrutiny. If your life was split into meaningful chapters, Heeseung knew it by heart, his gaze uncomfortably invasive, expectant as if judging your next move.

A waiter zooming by caught your attention, and you pounced on the opportunity. Fingers trembling, you grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it in one go, the liquor leaving a bitter burn in your throat.

“Y/N, you don’t hold your liquor well,” Yeji frowned. One drink never hurt anyone, and besides, this was a party—everyone was soon going to lose their marbles.

You turned away, grabbing another drink from a passing waiter.

“Y/N, stop!” Yeji warned. You smiled tightly, ready to throw more alcohol into your system.

In a flash, Heeseung, who had been a good fifty people away, stood towering over you. He snatched the glass from your grasp and chugged it down. You watched in disbelief as he slammed the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, his gaze darkening as he stared at you. Yeji took it as her cue to scram, rushing to accompany her boyfriend on the dance floor.

Your stomach clenched with want. Even simply dressed in a black t-shirt and leather jeans, his expression sour, his appeal was uncanny. He made you forget the elephant in the room.

“So— he bothers you that much?” Heeseung spat, his voice low and venomous.

He had planned to watch from the sidelines. Jongseong’s name was enough for Heeseung to find sources and sniff out your past link. He was told you had rejected the boy, but that didn’t match Jake’s description of your first crush.

It didn’t take long for Heeseung to realise that you really did like Jongseong, your affection reflected in that picture you still chose to keep. The reason you had declined his proposal wasn’t a mystery either. You feared ruining a chance at friendship, and that conclusion made Heeseung sleepless.

Heeseung had orchestrated this party and invited Jongseong, just to watch your heartbreak. He wanted to dwell in the forlorn misery in your gaze, relish in the fury and hatred fuelling your agonised expression. He wanted you to shatter so that you were left with no choice but to find him. So that he could collect those shards and piece you together. For himself.

Yet here you stood, bothered and apologetic. There wasn’t one bad bone inside you, your heart pure like the sunshine that streaks through his curtains every morning.

“How do you know about Jay?” You curiously pointed out, folding your arms and gazing up at the man.

Heeseung flinched at the nickname. Tightening his fists, he responded with gritted teeth. He didn’t need to lie for this.

“Jake.”

One word and your face crumbled, your finger pointing at the blonde who laughed beside his friends. “Why can’t that idiot keep his mouth shut?” You complained, glaring daggers. You couldn’t believe your brother blurted out your business to Heeseung.

“Do you still want him?”

Say it.

Say it, and he’ll burn this place down, along with Park Jongseong, leaving you with nothing—not even a corpse to mourn—just a speck of remains and dirt.

“I don’t.”

His eyes shifted back to their brown.

“I just wish I hadn’t lost my friends.” You glanced down at your shoes, face shrouded in despair as you reminisced the past.

Heeseung watched the sorrow flicker in your deprived eyes.

This was simpler than he had imagined.

“Let’s get the party started!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs, carrying a huge celebratory bottle of champagne as everyone huddled around him.

Yeji appeared by your side, dragging you towards the crowd where Jake prepared to unseal the wine, like a cake-cutting ceremony. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Heeseung walk up beside you—until everyone, including Jake, roared for him to come forward.

You watched Heeseung shake his head dismissively, but Jake’s adamant smile made him falter. For the first time, you saw a crack in Heeseung’s stern façade, a genuine sense of joy flashing through his expression.

You watched with intrigue as he stepped up, and Jake finally celebrated his twenty second. Everyone cheered as Jake popped the cork and showered Heeseung and Sunghoon with the essence.

Yeji over-excitedly gasped. During her overjoyed dance, she accidentally slipped forward, toppling her glass of wine onto your dress’s front. You quickly wiped at it, but the liquid soaked into the flimsy fabric with ease.

“Shit— sorry boo,” she cried over the music. You shook your head, dismissing her concern.

“I’m heading to the washroom,” you muttered. She nodded, unsure of your words, as the loud roaring and music drowned everything.

You slipped away from the chaos, excusing your way through until you managed to escape to the other end of the hall. You followed the dim hallway, the raucousness dissolving, as you searched for the nearest bathroom. You found a door at the far end with a staircase to your right and sped towards it.

“Long time.”

You turned, instantly freezing up.

Jay stood at the other end, speaking with his familiar calculated baritone. He stepped forward, watching your shocked expression morph into disappointment.

“Oh, seems like you’re not too happy to see me here,” he claimed, now standing a mere step away, his tone dripping with malice. “Is the princess running away again?” The darkness returned, his jaw clenched.

You gulped, standing upright. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” you told him, turning away.

A bitter chuckle escaped his chest. “Of course, you don’t,” he spat. “Now that you’ve found a man, you don’t have much to say,” he claimed, running his fingers through his dark strands, his gaze menacing.

Your throat burned with hostility. “You’re ridiculous,” you huffed. “Following a girl when you’ve already got a girlfriend—seems like I dodged a bullet.” You uttered the words, disturbed by his arrogant nonchalance, and instantly the atmosphere grew with heightening tension.

Your cruel words seemed to inflict some damage as Jay’s body trembled, his fists tightening in aggravation.

Because you were right. He knew it.

As you stepped away, all common sense evaded him. He grabbed your wrist and slammed you to the wall, a gasp wrenching out of your chest as he hovered above, his hands gripping your waist with an iron grip.

“I never needed you,” he whispered, his eyes wide and pained as you attempted to free yourself, but Jay’s grip on your waist only tightened. “I’ve just liked the chase. You were so full of yourself—so pathetic. Nothing about you ever made me feel something—anything—”

A bloodcurdling scream wrenched out of your throat as a shattering sound reverberated within your frame. Your eyes bulged out, heart trashing and body quivering in horror. One second Jay was standing, staring at you like a madman, and the next, he was knocked to the ground, blood splattering against your cheeks, staining your dress and skin scarlet.

Breathe. Take a deep breath. Breathe.

You plummeted to the floor, your knees giving out as Jay’s forehead and neck covered in red pooled on the ground. You internally prepared yourself as you looked up, staring at the perpetrator.

A dull void of a gaze, Heeseung’s hand was wrapped around a half-shattered bottle with its sharpened edges dripping Jay’s blood. Your insides clenched in horror.

Heeseung stepped closer as Jay’s limp frame scrambled to sit up, his gaze chasing the danger, his grip on his head loosening as he spotted the man.

“You—you fucking lunatic—what the fuck is wrong with—”

Jay’s yelps fell on deaf ears as Heeseung discarded the bottle and plummeted to the floor before you, his pupils drained of colour and hands trembling as he caressed your cheeks. His thumb rubbed at the splashes of blood, eyes wide with terror—a terror you had never seen. More than his own actions, his line of concern was the beads of red staining your complexion.

“Hee…” you tried to speak, your throat dry and lips quivering.

“It’s okay—you’re okay,” his voice trembled as he consoled himself, more than anyone, his gaze frantically running over your body.

What you didn’t realise was Jay reaching out to grab the loitering bottle. Heeseung’s warm gaze and words were so captivating, pulling you away from the unfolding catastrophe. Suddenly, the fantasy shattered. Jay smashed the bottle against the back of Heeseung’s head.

You screamed, your body jerking alert as you pulled Heeseung into your arms, sobbing aloud. Jay stood on trembling legs, glaring at Heeseung with a poisonous look before limping away. You tightened your hold on Heeseung, your body shaking despite his grievous injury. The attack was strong enough to lash out blood but not wilful enough to break the bottle like Heeseung had done.

You tried to pull away to check his wound, but Heeseung pulled you back into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Fuck. He could die right now and he’d be happy. Over the fucking moon. He almost wanted to thank that low-life for brusing him because it worked in his favour.

You gazed upon him with sympathetic attention, like you were gazing upon a wounded puppy. You were finally in his arms, letting him envelop you. He inhaled the scent of vanilla and fresh peaches, his hold on your frame tightening with desperation.

He wanted to consume you.

“Heeseung, let me see your wound,” you softly cried into his shoulder, unable to breathe at the intensity of his clutch.

“It’s not deep—nothing compared to what that moron will take home,” Heeseung arrogantly claimed. His prideful tone made your insides hurl; it reminded you of the initiation. Heeseung had started it all; he had slammed a glass bottle into Jay’s head.

You pushed him back, your gaze stern as you met his aggravated one. “Why?” You cried hysterically, recalling the insanity of the previous moment. “How could you—”

Heeseung’s expression grew colder than ice. “I’ll break every bone he used to touch you,” he declared, the honesty in his tone sending chills down your spine.

“You literally almost murdered him!” You screeched.

Heeseung cracked a deluded smile. “He’ll wish I had.”

You felt speechless. Utterly stunned into silence. What did that mean? You wanted to assume that his fury made him speak nonsense, that he didn’t mean a word. However, when you stared into Heeseung’s gaze, your stomach turned at the resolute darkness, his words horrifyingly blunt and absurd.

You were about to call him out when you noticed trail of blood slither down the side of his face. You gasped. "You need to get to a hospital,” you urged.

“And explain what?” He scoffed with a playful smile.

You felt bewildered. Of course, you didn't care at the moment! As long as he got treated, you didn't care what lie he spat out.

You glared at him. “You need to get it checked out, Heeseung,” you muttered with concern, noticing the blood kept gushing in thicker streams.

Wordlessly, Heeseung grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and nodded as he pulled you to stand. You sighed in relief, grateful that he was finally listening. His grip never faltering on your hand, you both turned towards the venue.

Heeseung suddenly pulled you back, ignoring your confusion, instead climbing up the staircase. “What’re you doing?” You groaned, attempting to retract, but Heeseung just kept walking.

Upstairs, the living room was carpeted with posh couches and chairs. You passed by expensive paintings hung up on the wall as Heeseung took you inside a dark room, stalking through blindly until he pushed at another door.

Lights flickering on, you surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. Heeseung had brought you to a bathroom. You glanced at him in confusion as he shut the door and turned towards you.

“Heeseung, what’re you doing?”

“You said I need to get my injury checked out,” he responded, leaning down and grabbing a first aid kit from the cubby hole. “I’m doing it,” he flashed you a clever smile, his eyes shining with amusement.

Even if you were about to throw a tantrum, you couldn’t anymore. Heeseung’s words, his eyes, his smile, everything was enough for you to sit still and obey. You watched as he stepped towards the large mirror. He casually tilted his head to inspect the wound.

Expressionless, he opened up the first aid kit, grabbing a transparent bottle and cotton pads like a professional, as if he had already addressed such wounds in the past. With practised nonchalance, he soaked the cotton pad with the liquid and pressed it into the wound.

You winced, instinctively jumping forward to grab the bottle from his hand.

“Who deals with a wound like that!” You screeched hysterically.

Heeseung turned, his brows raised, lips pressed in confusion. You put forward your palm, glaring at him. He surveyed your stern expression and, to your surprise, gave in easily, handing you the stained cotton ball without putting up a fight. You had imagined he would claim he knew more—but Heeseung just stared at you passively. You gulped, edging forward.

You knew the wound was deeply ingrained on the right side of his head, but reaching it was an issue. You were a good half a person shorter than him, his towering frame allowing you to reach only his chest. Standing on your tiptoes, you could only make it to his collarbone. You tried pushing up to reach the mark, but it remained physically impossible.

You noticed the amusement sparking in his expression, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “What’s so funny?” You gruffly questioned, and his smile only grew more.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, setting you on the cold basin. He turned, towering between your parted legs.

“There.”

You quickly recovered, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in your chest or the heat stirring from where he had just touched you. You reached up. The angle allowed you to address the wound better.

Thankfully, there was a single cut, slashing down to the nape. You held the cotton against the cut, letting it absorb the blood, and then gently swirled it across.

Heeseung’s breathing suddenly grew heavy, and you flinched, quickly scanning his face for hints of pain. “Is it too bad?” You muttered, your eyes wide and voice reluctantly soft.

He nodded. It was painful, so unbearably agonising like he was thrown into a fuming furnace, burning and dying, then reincarnating and burning every breath he spent in your vicinity.

His fists tightened, his gaze tracing your attentive expression, your lips puckered in deep concentration, hands so gentle, like a mother’s touch—or what Heeseung assumed must’ve been had he ever felt one. The past month he only dreamed of this moment—to have you before him, launched between his legs, attending only to him.

You cleaned up his wound with precision. He had practice, but your touch was magical—a healing balm of its own.

“Have you done this for anyone else?” His question came out gruffer than expected, his stomach twisting as he imagined you perched on a sink like this for someone else.

You finished cleaning up, moving to grab the bandage. “Of course not,” you huffed, peeling the bandaid from the wrapper.

“I just know I’m not supposed to stab wounds like that,” you sarcastically claimed, reminded of him jabbing his head. “You’re the future doctor… you should know this,” you leaned to the side, pressing the band-aid into his scalp.

“They teach us how to treat,” he stated. “Whatever gets the job done,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help but grimace at his words.

“If you don’t treat with the element of pain in mind, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

Heeseung's throat was suddenly tighter than normal.

You wiped your hands with a tissue. Shifting closer, you inspected Heeseung’s injury one more time. You were about to get off the sink when you noticed glimmering bits of glass nestled in his hair. Impulsively, you reached out, flicking the strands.

“Oh—!” You jerked away, your finger cut by an unseen sharp edge that pierced the flesh.

Before the blood even oozed out, Heeseung sprang forward, grabbing your wrist, his gaze wide with horror as he impulsively pulled your finger into his mouth.

An astonished gasp escaped your chest.

Wide-eyed, you watched Heeseung suck around your finger.

At the first drop of your blood against his tongue, Heeseung’s eyes screwed shut, his body heating up, the metallic taste mixed with your skin’s sweetness creating a delicious buzz within his taste buds. Maybe if he drank enough, you'd really become a part of his being; if he fused your blood with his, you'd somehow become his.

He lapped at the drop incessantly, his hand reaching to lock your wrist in place as he covered your finger with saliva.

There was a shift in the air. You felt it in your bones.

As he looked up, meeting your eyes while simultaneously drenching your finger inside his mouth, your body began to heat up. A burn ignited at the centre of your legs, your imagination running wild, your limbs quivering.

Time became meaningless as he revelled in the euphoric bliss. When he noticed you weren’t pulling away or flinching, his muscles clenched with want. Instead, your cheeks were redd, eyes fluttering in bashfulness. Warmth in his blood shot lower, pooling within his sensitive region.

A thrum vibrated his own being as Heeseung popped another finger into his mouth, his sucking growing intense, lascivious, and hungrier. Your body jolted as his slick enveloped your digits, his tongue tirelessly flicking and tasting.

You wanted to intervene and stop this madness, but suddenly you couldn’t find your voice. Your throat refused to cooperate, and your lips denied any help.

His gaze was trained on your expressions, every blink, every gasp. He wanted to memorise the way your cheeks blushed scarlet and mouth opened in silent gasps. You were so beautiful, so perfect, so his.

“Hee—” you managed to choke out.

Heeseung’s hardness jerked in his pants, his body shaking with want. You had just attempted to say his name.

Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away and yanked you to the floor. You fell against his chest, your feet staggering on the marble floor, a stunned gasp escaping your mouth. He didn’t let you process it, his moves sharp and abrupt.

Your jaw dropped as you felt the tent of arousal straining against your abdomen. Your underwear was drenched, muscles taut as the reality dawned upon you. Lee Heeseung wanted you.

“Feel that—fuck—do you feel it?” He rasped against your ear, his hardened tone and body making you forget any coherent response, your body tensing up in his embrace. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful—stunning—so breathtaking. You make me—” His voice cracked as he felt nestled his nose against your neck, sniffing like a dog.

“Make you…” you pleaded for him to continue, craving his validation.

“Make me pathetic—so damn pathetic,” he blurted, his mind elsewhere as he sucked onto your earlobe.

His kisses ran down your neck, and he urgently flicked the hair away to feast. He pressed his lips gently, wanting to savour every moment and worship every inch, but within the first contact, his patience was out the window. He pushed his throbbing body into yours, knocking you against the sink as his mouth opened wide, biting into your flesh.

His mind fell numb as your taste and scent drove him to the brink of euphoria. He found it strange how you turned him into a quivering virgin mess with just this.

Your gasps reverberated in the bathroom walls, your frame quivering.

His touch was desperate, persistent like he was holding onto you for dear life. Fingers interlocked in your strands, body shaking with restrain as his mouth devoured your neck, you felt lost in a sea of pure bliss. You hadn’t had many sexual experiences in your life, but whatever make out sessions you had shared with boys in first year didn’t live up to this feeling, this hunger— from him.

“Ah!”

Every hair on his body stood alert. Your sounds were so pretty just like your body. He knew he couldn’t live without absolutely breaking your resilience. He had to tear through your exterior and drag out the vulnerable girl who moves to his rhythm, sings to his beat and responds to his call.

“Heeseung—Ah!” Your body tensed, his name falling from your mouth as his kisses grew frantic, prolonged. You were so flustered that you felt the world knock off its axis. You urgently held onto his tense shoulders, hoping you wouldn't fall over with the intensity of his want.

Had it been any other girl in his arms, anyone, he’d have thrown her on the floor and fulfilled his depraved desires. He’d have coerced her lust, used and abused her body like a mere object for his release. He wanted to do the same to you like he’d envisioned every night.

But you weren’t any girl. You weren't a momentary escape. For the first time in his life, he wanted it both: lust and love. He wanted to ruin you for everyone— not just physically but emotionally. He wanted your body and your soul.

And you were the sole reason he unwillingly held back, restrained his desire to rip you apart.

Breathless and flustered, you struggled to gather your thoughts. Your body was begging for him, but you couldn’t look past the reality.

This was Lee Heeseung, the hottest playboy, the genius, the most eligible bachelor in Korea—and most importantly, your brother’s best friend. You were calling his name so embarrassingly, and you were certain going all the way, he’d have nothing to do with you after tonight. He was like a forbidden fruit, so effortlessly desirable but never yours.

He will never be yours.

Your eyes burned with tears. You had managed to like him so much, and tonight it would crumble apart. Just the way you had ended up running from Jay, you should run from Heeseung before he takes your heart with him.

Determined, you pushed against him. The sudden move knocked him away, his reddened face twisting in confusion and frustration at the distance.

You quickly stumbled to the sink, splashing cold water on your face. Your complexion as red as a cherry, eyes shining, indicating hints of your previous bliss; Heeseung had littered red and purple marks all over your neck, his saliva still warming your flesh.

Behind you, Heeseung appeared, wrapping his arms around your waist. His eyes locked onto your reflection, his gaze darkening as it traced the curve of your neck. The heat between you intensified, his desire becoming evident as he pressed his aching body into yours. His eyes fluttered shut, savouring the sensation of your soft curves against him.

Embarrassingly, your abdomen clenched again.

“T—this is wrong. Stop,” you babbled, pushing him away, your dejected tone falling on deaf ears as he pressed into you again. “Heeseung—” You turned, using all your force to push him away. He looked up, his eyes clearly unfocused.

The bathroom was getting stuffy now. His unnerving gaze made it hard to breathe. You stepped away, yanking the bathroom door open and rushing out into the bleak room, your breathing unnecessarily heavy. Your body was aching with arousal, wanting to go back into his arms and give yourself up.

Heeseung shot out, grabbing your waist and jerking you into his hold, his heavy breaths lingering against your earlobe. You tried pulling away when suddenly he whipped you around.

With darkness blinding your vision, you couldn’t evade him as he yanked you into his chest and slammed his lips into yours.

The taste of cherries overwhelmed your senses, your body liquifying as he immediately plunged his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.

Every instant in his life had brought him to this moment. He knew it when he kissed your mouth, licked your tongue, traced your gums—he knew you were meant for him. Your beauty was his to ruin. Your taste was his to devour. Your love was his to take.

A strange sensation flared up in his chest, spreading to his heart. For the first time, all his medical knowledge felt useless—he didn’t even feel human because even they could identify sensations.

Heeseung cupped your jaw, his lips trembling as he took in all your taste had to offer. His teeth clashed with yours, and his saliva dripped down your chin, his tongue rolling against yours as he poured an overwhelming flood of unnamed emotions into you.

His erection pressed against your lower stomach as he kissed you breathlessly. Suddenly, he was tearing at his buttons, desperate to feel your skin against his.

His kiss felt urgent, charged with arousal. You felt like you would blow into tattered pieces with the intensity of his touch, his deprivation and lust. Your fingers ran through his tousled strands, clenching for semblance of control as he sucked the soul out of you.

Your lungs flared up in discomfort due to the limited oxygen supply. You gasped, pushing at his shoulders with all your strength. Heeseung’s grip didn’t falter. Your gasps grew more strained and alarming. Only when you felt tears blurring your vision did Heeseung relent.

Both of you panted like dogs, heaving breaths echoing through the room.

“Stop it!” You screamed, pushing him away as you blindly searched for the exit.

Yellow lights flickered on, the sudden burst blinding you momentarily. Heeseung stood like a barrier blocking the door, his advantage clear as he seemed to have the room mapped out in his head.

Pupils blown out, he panted, his gaze clouded with the need to ravage and devour you whole. His undone button-down hung the shoulders, revealing honey toned chest and tense abs, descending lower into his pants. Your mouth dried up, but you forced yourself to remain unfeeling.

You voiced out, “Let me go—”

“Why?” He asked gruffly. His eyes locked onto your trembling orbs, his brows arching in frustration.

“I can’t have you?” He whispered.

His words were laced with provocation. He hadn’t felt such an urgency to ruin someone, ever. He ached to feel your skin against his. He was hurting to fill you. If you wanted, he would plummet to his knees, stick out his tongue and shamelessly beg, plead.

You looked at him with indifference. “You’re my brother’s—”

“So what?” He barked, his abrupt interruption making your breath stutter.

He stepped closer until he had you pressed against the wall, his arms on either side, locking you in place. You hadn’t expected him to be this eager. Why did he care? A man like Heeseung could get any woman on earth. One look and they’d drop their panties to the floor. Your glare grew more acrimonious at the realisation.

You pushed at his chest, your fingers grazing his warm skin, lighting up fireworks in your system. “I refuse to be your one-night fantasy, Heeseung,” you stuttered, unshed tears slipping out.

The fury in his gaze collapsed, his lips parting in stunned horror.

This was your chance…to run free, to protect whatever’s left of your heart. Hastily, you dashed to the door, your grip pulling at the handle when suddenly Heeseung was behind you, enveloping your waist.

You screamed and struggled, your feet kicking the air as he carried you away and tossed you onto the bed. You fought against his manhandling, punching and pushing against him, but he just stared at you like you were a weak feline lashing out.

He let you burst out until your energy had depleted and you fell limp.

“You’re fucking joking,” he laughed, disbelief coursing through his frame. “One night fantasy?” He spat, his fists tightening at the audacity of your words.

You stared back, matching his intensity. “Isn’t it famously known?" You huffed. “You don’t touch a woman you’ve had once,” you snarled, your tone dripping with hostility.

That sent him spiralling. “I don’t,” he declared. He watched the spark in your eyes die down, tears running down your cheeks. You attempted to get up, but Heeseung dropped to his knees, his hands scrambling to cup your face.

His heart pounded so hard, that he felt its drumming within his entire being. “You’re not any woman,” his voice cracked, his throat tightening as he kissed your tears one by one. “You’re mine."

He hadn’t said anything more honest in his entire life.

Yet, you looked at him the same—awfully sceptical, disbelieving. He had attempted to pour out his heart, claim you as his, but you gazed at him like he was a liar, a deceiver. Heeseung dropped his arms, anger surging within his blood.

“You don’t believe me,” he declared, his tone laced with bitter sarcasm.

You wanted to so badly—but you had no reason to. Why would he fall for you?

You watched as Heeseung’s gaze frantically scoured the room.

Something ominous was happening. You felt your stomach twist. You called his name, but he turned away, dashing towards the study table. You stared in confusion as he grabbed his car key.

Without any warning, Heeseung struck the sharp edge into his chest, stabbing himself in his sternum. A scream lurched out your throat, your breath stuttering as you attempted to get to him. He forced the key inside, tearing through the flesh in a line. Blood gushed through the wound, but Heeseung’s concentration remained firm.

“What the fuck— stop-stop!” You screeched, finally getting a hold of his arm.

He didn’t stop, still working on creating the art piece he wanted you to see. You felt lightheaded as you fought against his determined actions. Unable to knock him back into reality, you decided to fling at the key, letting it slip from his grasp.

Horror ceased your chest. The scarred flesh formed a letter— your initial. You gazed up at him, your throat constricting as a soul-stirring chill escalated down your spine.

“If I carve you in my blood, will you believe me?” A pained gaze, a torn heart, a horrifying smile.

Your limbs trembled.

You glanced at the wound, lips parting in silent horror.

This was absurd— absolute madness. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, but you knew it was awfully dangerous like playing with fire or chasing a lion into its den. You should be scared— fearing for your life. You should escape right now when you have the chance. You should run and never look back.

There are many shoulds' you encounter in life, but none of them hold any value when something as desirable holds you by the throat. Someone as irresistibly horrifying as Lee Heeseung. Whatever you did next, you knew your fate was sealed. Even if you ran, you couldn't outrun him-- and somewhere in the pool of longing in your depraved heart, you didn't want to. You didn't want to find a way out.

You leaned down and wrapped your lips around his honey peck, swirling your tongue and licking the scarlet oozing from his self-inflicted wound, surprising yourself as you swallowed it down.

Life and death stood at a standstill. Had you pushed him away, he’d still have ruined you, broken your soul to pieces and killed himself over hurting you. But you chose to acknowledge, indulge in his pained longing, accepting it like a lover's call, making him want to live more— chase more— love more.

Vision glazed, heart thundering against his chest, he wrapped you in a breathless embrace.

Amid the chaos, a strained voice invaded the room. “Hee— fuck, we’ve got a problem.”

Your head shot towards the door, eyes wide with fear.

Fuck.

Your brother was at the door.

A rampant knock. “Hee— you in there?” Jake's voice spilt into the heated room, your body freezing. Heeseung didn't even spare the door a glance as he pressed himself within your body.

“They’ve come looking for drugs— I don’t know who’s called but the police are searching the place.”

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets, jaw-dropping in horror.

Drugs? Police?

Instead of concern or a slight hint of fear, Heeseung’s grip tightened on your wrists, and he attacked your lips, invading your mouth. You gasped, caught off guard, your jaw opening in a silent gasp. He swallowed your protests, his hands releasing your wrists to grope your butt-cheeks as he hoisted you up in his arms while sucking on your bottom lip.

“Bro— are you seriously fucking someone right now?” Jake’s incredulous tone made you want to dig a hole and bury yourself inside.

Heeseung’s grip on your buttocks tightened, his groans purposefully filling the room like a silent message for Jake. His knees gave out, knocking you down, your body crashing into the bed as he vigorously unbuckled his jeans. His warm tongue feasted through your mouth, swallowing your complaints, his head lolling into your shoulders as he pressed wet, hasty bites down your neck.

Another knock.

“Fuck— Heeseung get out here! They’ve arrested Jongseong.”

You gasped.

What the fuck?

Heeseung paused.

Through glazed vision, he stared down at you. His lips slowly formed a smile that made every hair on your body rise.

Kim Sunoo had really come through, orchestrating a flawless drug raid, planting the evidence in Jongseong's bags and vanishing without a trace. Jay would waste away five years in prison for drug possession— barely enough to atone for the pain he gave you, hopefully enough to erase the longing that fucker held for you. Heeseung knew he owed his partner in crime a bottle of Soju next time Sunoo visited their shared farmhouse.

“Heeseung, we should—”

Heeseung licked your mouth, holding your trembling body in place, his fingers desperately tugging at your straps. Despite your persistence, he didn’t care for anything at the moment. Someone could tell him that the entire house was on fire or that the universe had collided into a meteor, crumbling to bits and pieces, and he’d still ignore it all.

For now, he will spend every second making you his—until his love is conveyed through his hunger, until his touch leaves scars and burns on your soul, until you love him enough to bleed him dry.

321 notes · View notes

xxacademy · 2 years ago

Text

tender

husband!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: succumbing to injuries inflicted by a B.O.W you fight the mental and physical battle to recovery. meanwhile, your husband does everything in his power to support you.

any leon timeline works, except re2. i did have older leon in mind though <3

a/n: inspired by lil a snippet from an anon request, find it here. anyhow, i love how this turned out, i was 🥺 writing it. pls lemme know what you think <33

content//warnings: depictions of blood & injury, hospital setting, non-graphic description of an IV, pain medication, y/n is used ONCE, pet names (dear, sweetheart, honey), hurt/comfort.

harsh white light wakes you revealing an image of horror. your trembling hands painted with your own dried blood, hooked up to an IV and a pulse oximeter. dazed, you know you’re in pain, but it’s not registering. it’s like you’re floating, possibly in a dream. a bad dream. but the reality of your condition is enough to confirm this is in fact not.

there’s a small group of medical staff standing at the end of your bed, talking quietly amongst each other. “the bloodwork came back, she’s not infected. all though the acid is wreaking havoc on her immune system, sending it into overdrive. the patient needs to be monitored for at least another two days.”

one of the nurses walks over to check on you, first, he looks at the monitors at your bedside, then goes to place a hand on your forehead. he notices you’re waking up, your heavy-lidded eyes focused on your hands.

he calls the doctor over, who pulls a chair up next to you. “hey, how are you feeling?” her voice is soft and calm.

“w-why am i here?” you mutter shakily, unable to make out much more.

“you sustained serious injuries on an extraction mission against a bio-organic weapon. you came in contact with its lethal acid, which is primarily why you’re here. your ankle is broken and you have puncture wounds in your arms.”

you’re still fixed on your bloodied hands, images of what you endured flood back. it was so intense- the last thing you remembered is a sharp talon-like claw piercing your upper arm. it all went fuzzy after that.

“you had surgery early this morning, and we have you on a morphine drip to help with the pain. please let us know if you begin to feel ill.”

you respond with an unsteady nod.

“you’re gonna be alright.” she smiles sympathetically.

another nurse comes into the room walking directly to the doctor. their speaking is hushed. “doctor, there’s a man here to see the patient. he says he’s her husband.”

“we can’t risk exposure from an outsider, we can’t have visitors yet.”

“he seems antsy.”

“well, assure him that she’s okay”-

the room is dead silent, so you can rather clearly make out what they’re saying.

“bring him in.” your voice quivering.

their heads turn, giving you a look of disappointment. similar to the one your mother gave you as a child. a sullen expression of remorse when she couldn’t afford to buy you new toys.

they do not want to hold your loved ones away from you. but it’s what has to be done. after all, it could mean life or death.

you sigh. you’re in no place to put up a fight.

“i’ll talk to him.” the nurse whispers. leaving the room.

“i’m sorry mrs. kennedy, you’re just not in a well enough state for visitors yet.”

you respond with yet another dreary sigh. fidgeting with the ring finger of your left hand.

your wedding ring is missing. you know you were wearing it prior. you’re always wearing it. sometimes you would loop it around a necklace chain, but you didn’t before this mission. surely it was on your finger.

“-doctor” you whisper.

“yes mrs. kennedy.”

“do you have my wedding ring?”

your tattered and blood-stained belongings were placed in a biohazard bag. a nurse picks up the bag feeling through the plastic for a ring.

“it’s not in here.” the nurse admits, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

“that’s okay.” you exhale.

it’s not okay. your beautiful diamond ring was more than just a pretty thing. it was one of the only sentimental pieces you coveted so highly. hand-picked by leon, it was a symbol of his undying affection. despite all the odds pinned against your love.

wanting to cry, but your bloodshot eyes are dry. the medication numbs you enough to let the pain run by, but you still feel broken, physically and mentally.

the hours pass as you bob in and out of sleep. your wavering limb’s finally settling. nurses and doctors are always present, constantly checking your vitals.

the next day two nurses come to bathe you at your bedside. gently wiping the sticky dried blood from your skin. the other trying to get it out of your hair.

“thank you, i mean it, thank you,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

it was a relief. the sweet, metallic smell was driving you crazy. it felt itchy and uncomfortable against your skin.

…

leon hasn’t left the hospital. confined to a chair in the waiting room for the last day and a half. constantly flagging down staff for updates on your condition.

“she’s doing really well, the blood transfusion took perfectly.” the nurse smiles reassuringly.

“does that mean i can see her?”

“not yet, but soon.”

leon sighs. “well anyways, thanks for the good news.”

he sullenly returns to his chair. the stress and lack of sleep painting his under eyes dark. in his grasp is a picture you two took together, one he always carries in his wallet. it was taken a few years ago and you’re kissing his cheek. it’s the only solace he can find in the depressing waiting room.

leon had fallen asleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours. slumped over in his chair, chin resting in his palm. he jerked awake when his chin slipped. it was dark outside and the lobby eerily quiet.

3:47am

leon walks to the front desk heavy-footed and groggy. “my wife, y/n kennedy, is she okay?” his voice is grave.

“yes sir, she’s sleeping- and everything is looking good. but, you should get some sleep too sir, it’s gonna be a while until she wakes up.”

“-thanks.”

the pain of not being able to see you cuts like a knife. leon can't stand the image of you suffering and alone. but he’s borderline delirious from the sleep deprivation. he returns to his chair, lays his legs out across another, and falls asleep.

leon is jolted awake by a nurse tapping his shoulder. it’s morning- warm sun seeping through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the lobby.

“do you need me to move?” he asks, still half asleep. voice deep and raspy.

“oh no mr. kennedy, your wife is on the right track to her recovery. you can go see her now.”

…

you feel much more alert, the daze the blanketing your apprehensive thoughts finally lifting. they switched you onto a far less invasive medication, which was probably helping.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen leon, and about two of those he’s been here, but just barely out of reach.

whenever the nurses praised you for the progress you made- you jump straight to asking if you're well enough for visitors. In your defense, it’s been unbelievably hard going through this journey alone.

the door creeks open, a very common occurrence of your stay. but instead peaking through the door is your blonde-haired husband.

you immediately start to cry- tears welling up and streaming down your cheeks. leon tears up too, casting a glossy filter over his blue eyes. he delicately wraps his arms around you, careful not to inflict any more pain. and you bury your face into his chest, immediately staining his shirt with your cry.

“i missed you, leon, i can't believe you’re here, i’ve missed you so much.” you sob.

“it’s really you, you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you, dear.”

you take your time, relishing in the comfort of your husband's arms. he gently rubs your back, consoling you with his touch.

“how're you feeling?”

“ugh okay, i guess. my whole body hurts and i can barely move. but the doctors say i’m improving- so yippee” your deadpan tone emphasizes how exhausted you are.

“that’s what i heard. and look, i know it’s been hard, but i’m so proud of how strong you’ve been, sweetheart.”

“i love you.”

“i love you, too” leon squeezes his embrace around you a little tighter, gently kissing the top of your head.

you smile, the first one in a while. but it quickly fades. “leon, can i tell you something.”

“of course you can.”

you fidget with your hands pressing your face deeper in his chest. “i lost my wedding ring- i think it was during the mission. i’m so sorry.”

“is that really what’s on your mind right now?” leon chuckles.

you look up at him with, tears streaming down your face. “you do understand how much that ring meant to me.”

“of course, i know, dear. but how can i care about the stupid ring if the wife i thought died is actually alive and in my arms?”

leon wipes the tears from your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw. “i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“okay.” you say sniffling your runny nose.

with a big yawn, leon stands up raising both arms up into a stretch, his shirt lifts up slightly showing off his abdomen. “i’m going to find your doctor, see when you’re coming home.”

you smile. it’s nice not being alone. you feel bad knowing leon anxiously waited at the hospital for days. but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in knowing how much he cares. leon had always cared about you- before you were even dating. that’s one of the many reasons why you married him. aside from the ongoing list of shared interests- he’s so protective, it’s one of his beautiful ways of loving you.

leon comes back to the room, “looks like they need to run more blood tests, make sure that acid is out of your bloodstream before you come home.”

you’re totally spaced out, it feels like you haven’t even had a chance to take in what’s happened to you. it’s all become a blur, taking in the moments a second at a time. you were so worried about the details it almost failed to compute that you were nearly infected by the very thing you swore your life to rid of.

like a time release valve finally triggering; anxiety washes you cold- it could have been the end. leon would have been widowed, and all your friends would have been at your funeral. your mind is playing devil's advocate. what if i don’t get better? are the doctors just hoping i stay positive?

“are you okay?” leon’s bloodshot eyes are nearly aching with concern.

“i’m scared.” your chest is sinking deeper with each anxious breath.

“why? why would you be scared?”

it may not make sense to you now- but having leon there was a sort of reality check. alone, you just survived. with him, everything has weight.

“i dunno… i just want things to be okay. i want you to be okay, i want to get better.”

leon rushes to your bedside, holding your hands in his. “but it will get better- you’re doing better, so much better! i’ll be there every step of the way. i promise you.”

you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. trying to hang on to his words.

you sob, absolutely overcome by emotion. “i love you, leon. thank you for being here, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

a nurse knocks at the door but you don’t let go of leon’s hand.

“mrs. kennedy- so sorry to intrude. but the doctor wants to do a scan of your ankle. is that okay?”

you wipe the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself.

“yes, of course, that’s alright, thank you.”

leon whispers “you got this, dear,” before standing up and sitting in a chair by the window.

…

leon has done everything possible to make the next few days easier for you. like ordering takeout and watching your favorite movies with you. serving as a distraction while you recover.

it certainly worked. he’s good at keeping you calm, and the energy light-hearted. you didn’t even think it was possible, given the grim reality of your circumstances. but somehow he can have your eyes filled with tears, giggling with laughter.

four days you’ve been in the hospital, and today is your last one. you’re able to stand up and the effects from the B.O.W are finally gone. granted you still have a long journey to recovery, at least you can go home.

…

after the agonizing hours of travel, you make it home. leon helps you into the house, guiding you to your bed. “i want to take a bath, i feel disgusting.”

“i’ll draw one for you, you want it now?”

“hmhm” you nod.

“sure thing, sweetheart.” leon tenderly kisses your forehead.

he runs a hot bath, adding a little lavender soap, just the way you like it. he walks you to the tub and helps you undress. he holds your hand as you shakily step in, slowly adjusting to the hot water.

“god my first real bath in a week, can you believe it.” you sigh, sinking your body in the bubbly water.

leon chuckles, “i know, you poor thing, those nurses really tried their best to help. but it’s never the same, is it?”

“…especially considering i was covered in congealed zombie guts”

leon laughs, “but look at you now, covered in…” he pauses to read the name on the soap bottle “…lavender dreams”

you both giggle, in love and delighted by each other's company.

“okay, i’ll leave you to it, holler if you need anything.”

…

“leon! will you fetch my bathrobe!” you yell from the bathroom. you hear his feet patter across the hardwood, “coming."

you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you brush your wet hair, inspecting the scars, bruises, and stitches that litter your body. it feels like you came home to a different person, a body you’re now unfamiliar with.

leon peaks through the door. head cocked to the side. “everything alright, baby?”

“i don’t know- it’s hard to wrap my head around it. i-i feel off.”

“c’mere i got something to show ya.” leon swoops you off your feet carrying you in his arms.

“what are you doing?” you giggle wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you’ll see.”

he delicately sets you down on the couch in the living room and sits next to you. he fumbles around in his pocket pulling out a little black velvet box.

“leon-honey, oh my god, what is that.” your eyes are round and doe-like, your bottom lip beginning to quiver.

he opens the box, presenting it to you as if his hands were a clamshell, revealing a glimmering ring set in pearlescent white satin.

“for you- i know it was hard losing the ring, but that one was beaten up anyways. you deserve something a little nicer.”

tears swell, gathering in the inner corners of your eyes. chocked up and rendered speechless, you mouth the words, i love you.

he reached for your trembling left hand, sliding the diamond wedding ring onto your finger.

“i love you, most.” he beams, the words fluttering with tenderness.

“i-i love the ring, it’s beautiful-truly. but how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“get a new ring, you were with me the entire time…?”

“i have my ways,” he smirks, planning on keeping that little secret to himself.

leon holds your hand, admiring the way your hand looks adorned by his diamond ring.

“remember when we got engaged?” he muses.

“of course i do! you took me to milan, i should have known you were going to propose.”

“you have the same look in your eyes as you did then.” leon swipes his thumb along your cheek, smiling to himself, gazing into your eyes.

“and you’re as smooth as ever” you look at him through your lashes, pupils wide. “but really leon, thank you, means more than the world”

“you are my world.” his soft lips meet yours, kissing you gently.

somewhere in the crystal pools of leon’s eyes, you find the hope you were looking for. his unbreakable faith in you, alongside his never-ending acts of love, is reassuring.

hell, it’s not going to be easy, but at least you're not alone.

⭐️tags

@yourgentlegirlfriend

#academy fics✨#thank you for reading <3 #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #leon fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #husband!leon kennedy #wife!reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil fanfiction

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chaoticharrington · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter Two: The Ticket and Your Shitty Car

***THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM/ASK FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst (sorry folks), mentions of anxiety and bullying, cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being sexy, kissing 👀, Reader is in their mid 20s and Steve and Eddie are in their early to mid 40s. Lemme know if i've missed anything.

Summary: After a few weeks of getting closer to Eddie and Steve feelings bubble to the surface

Authors Note: I'm so excited for this chapter and the rest of the series i've been having so much fun writing this! I've never written angst before so i'm interested in the response it'll get! And I pinky promise ya'll are getting smut in the next chapter 😈 7k words

**Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

A couple days had gone by since your first interactions with the two men that have been plaguing both your waking thoughts and your dreams. You’ve woken up more than once this week from your body buzzing and your panties soaked through. Lips on skin, rough hands on your hips, deep voices whispering in your ear. Groaning yourself fully awake and grabbing your vibrator to finish the job, that isn’t nearly as good as whatever was happening in your dreams.

Because of these dreams it made it impossible to look at Steve during class, only looking when you absolutely had to. Avoiding Mr. Munson was a bit easier, he either wasn’t home much when you were with Violet, or he was in the garage. You convinced yourself that you would just eventually get over your little crushes, and if you just avoided them long enough then things would go back to normal, and you’d have your sanity back.

But things didn’t quite work out that way. After you had gotten your ticket on the first day, you decided you would just pay it off yourself, to avoid another possibly embarrassing interaction with Steve. You had your parking pass now so you wouldn’t get another ticket. But you had a busy week with assignments and kept forgetting to take care of it. By the end of the week, you had completely forgotten about it, until Fridays sociology class. It was a normal class; Steve was talking about the theoretical approach to sociology. At the end of class, you were supposed to hand in your paper on Social Darwinism, you had spent many late nights making sure that this paper specifically was perfect. The problem was that when you were meant to hand it in at the end of class, you couldn’t find it, and you were starting to panic. Almost all the other students had left or were in the process of handing in their papers and you were left anxiously digging through your bookbag.

“Oh, how the tables turn, need some help there?”

You freeze, looking up from the familiar black converse that you could see next to your bookbag. Your anxious eyes are met with playful honey brown ones, that make you relax slightly.

“Sorry no I’m good I know it’s in here somewhere,” you reply a little anxious. You didn’t want your professor to think that this was any reflection of you as a student or your work ethic.

Steve watches you dig through your bag for another few seconds when you finally find it, in a folder you don’t remember putting it in. When you get the folder out of your bookbag, the ticket sitting at the bottom of your bag falls out onto the floor right at Steves feet. You’re too busy to notice, trying to make sure all of the pages of your paper are in order, and you have all your sources. When you finally look up from the papers in front of you, you see Steve holding the ticket that you got on the first day of school.

You panic and look up and into his eyes, he doesn’t look mad, but he looks confused. “I thought I told you I’d fix this for you if you ever got a ticket. Why didn’t you tell me?” he said.

“I- I didn’t want to bother with you something so silly, I was going to pay it, but with a bunch of papers due, I just forgot I’m sorry,” you blurt out.

Steve raises his hand to silence your apologies casually, and you’re ready for him to yell at you or at the very least be disappointed in you.

Shit, why did you not just pay it the day you got it?

“It’s not your fault honey, there’s no need for you to apologize, okay?” he says warmly. Your shoulders relax a bit more, his voice giving you reassurance.

“I swear I really did mean to pay it, I just didn’t want to bother you,” you confess.

Steves eyes soften. “Y/N you are never a bother, plus it's my fault for being the worst teacher in history and not giving you a parking pass.” He jokes.

“Steve you’re one of my favorite teachers, nowhere near my list of worst teachers.” You reveal.

He smiles widely and raises his eyebrow; you swear you can feel your insides thaw. With the playful look on his face, he almost seems younger, you could only imagine how attractive he was when he was younger, even just a glimpse is enough to make your stomach do flips.

“Oh so there IS list? Well, I demand to know where I am on your favorite teachers list, maybe it’ll give me motivation to try harder in class.” He winks at you in retort. You swear you could cum in your pants right now, how dare he be so beautiful and perfect, and funny.

You think hard for a second, you can’t put him first you think his ego probably couldn’t handle it, also it would just bring you more embarrassment. But he very easily is your favorite teacher, he makes jokes during class, makes sure his lectures are easy to understand and enjoyable, and seems to genuinely care about all his students, it’s very hard to rank any teacher above him.

“I hope your ego can handle it Steve, but you’re second.” you gush.

“You wound me, SECOND? That’s basically failure I demand to know who could possibly rank higher than me?” he jokingly stands up straighter, adjusts his tie, and holds his hand to his heart.

Damn, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Uh, Professor Buckley, my Gender Studies Professor, I love her class,” you confess.

Steves eyes couldn’t roll farther back into his head even if he tried, you almost worried that they’d get stuck.

“You’re telling me, my best friend has already won you over? I’ve sat in on some of her classes and there is no way that Robin is funnier than I am!” he exclaimed as he puts his hands on his hips.

“You know Professor Buckley.. er Robin? Also, you definitely top her in the funny department, how did I know you wouldn’t be satisfied with second.” you retort easily. You could get used to this, the casual flirting, smiling with your professor, it felt easier than breathing. Once you got over the fact that he was one of the most handsome men that you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

“Know her? She’s been my best friend since high school, and a major pain in my ass. Second place is basically losing, everyone knows that babe.” The pet name slipped off his tongue so effortlessly.

Your eyes must have gone wide because Steve looks slightly embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck.

Babe babe babe babe babe babe babe HE CALLED YOU BABE

“Well then I guess you gotta step it up Professor.” you reply, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He smiles at you gratefully, “yeah I guess so,” he chuckles.

“Anyways I don’t want to keep you again for the second time this week, I’ll see you in class on Monday Steve.” you say as you go to stand up and walk past him. You’re about halfway to the door before you hear him call out.

“Hey, wait up, uh why don’t you come with me to my office so I can get that parking ticket taken care of for you,” he explains.

“You sure? I don’t want to make you late for your next class.”

“I’m the one who got you into this mess, please let me help you fix it?” he asks gently.

“Lead the way professor,”you answer playfully.

He smiles that flashy Steve Harrington smile and shows you the way towards his office.

“It’s just down this hallway,” he shares.

Then you feel him put his hand at the small of your back guiding you into a room on the righthand side, his touch lights your body on fire. It takes everything in you not to lean into his touch. You can smell his cologne, now that you’re so close to him. It’s a fairly clean scent with hints of musk and spice at the end, a more modern scent then you expected from a man his age. It only makes you want him more, to lean in closer and smell his scent mixed with the cologne.

You’re snapped out of your daze when Steve picks up the phone receiver and punches in a phone number. His fingers almost covered the buttons on the phone, and it made your legs squeeze together, thinking back to the multiple dreams you had about those specific fingers all over you. Steve looks up at you smiling lightly, surely just trying to fill the silence that filled the room. You hoped he hadn’t magically learned how to read minds in the short walk from his classroom to his office or you’d be toast.

His office wasn’t anything glamorous, it was an average size, with a nice desk and comfy looking chair, and big window with a view that overlooked the campus. The only thing making it uniquely his are the loads of pictures of him and Professor Buckley, and a few other guys and girls that looked around his age or maybe a bit younger. Documenting various birthdays, weddings, and get togethers.

While Steve is on the phone you take a moment to look at them, you see a picture of Steve being Professor Buckleys best man in her wedding to a pretty woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They all looked so happy, it made you smile, it looked like a really special day. Also noting that there are no wedding photos of him or pictures of him with a girlfriend, making your heart internally soar.

When you finally tear your eyes away from the photos, you hear the end of a conversation Steve is having with someone on the phone.

“Thanks again Reg, I promise it won’t happen again. Yeah, you too, take care. Say hi to the wife and kids for me," he said.

He puts down the receiver and looks at where you’re standing, and gestures to the photo you’re looking at.

“Yeah, Robins wedding! It was a really great day,” he reminisces. He goes onto explain that Robin ended up marrying his ex from High School, Nancy Wheeler. You smile and nod along to the anecdotes he talks about that day, trying to absorb everything he tells you about his life like a sponge.

“And by the end of the night Lucas and Max lead everyone in a impromptu sing-a-long to Never Ending Story, It was hilarious,” He says. You could combust, you can see just how clearly he loves his friends and how much they mean to him. He shakes his head and smiles wide at the memory, his smile being infectious, you smile back at him.

“Sounds like really good time Steve,” you reply.

“Yeah, it was, it really was.” he shares, he seems a little lost in thought for a moment before smiling up at you. “Sorry I don’t mean to bore you with my stories of the old days, I don’t get to gush about the people I love very often, so its nice to have someone listen," He confessed.

Your heart melts, he’s such a sweetheart. “No no please, I enjoy hearing them, makes you more a person than just my teacher. Plus, maybe at some point you’ll slip up and tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Then you’re done for Harrington,” you jab.

He raises his eyebrows at you and looks impressed. “That’ll never happen, I’ve never done anything embarrassing in my life ever,” he states sarcastically.

“Well, I’ll just have to ask Professor Buckley, my favorite teacher, about it won’t I?” you interject.

His face goes from his handsome boyish grin to fake terror in a split second, “I will give you whatever grade you want in my class if you don’t do that, she’d go on for hours, might even keep you after class just to rub it in my face.”

You could tell that there was some truth to his words, and you know your gender studies professor well enough to know that she really would just rip him a new one. You giggle back at him, unable to keep it in.

“She really would tear you to shreds, wouldn’t she?” you cackle. His face softens, “Yes she’s evil, just awaiting my downfall I swear!” he smiles softly at you.

You both look at each other a bit longer before Steve clears his throat. “Anyways um, I talked to the guy in campus security and you’re good to go, you don’t have to pay the ticket,” He spoke.

You had honestly completely forgotten that was the reason you were even in his office; his demeanor makes you feel at home in your own skin and were just happy to not have anxious thoughts rolling around inside of your head.

“Oh, right yeah, thank you so much, you really didn’t need to go through all this trouble for me,” you said.

“No trouble at all, really. I should probably get going though, my next class starts soon.” he explained looking at the very expensive looking watch on his wrist.

You try your best not to show your disappointment, wishing to stay in this little bubble with him a bit longer.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you again Steve,” you respond.

He leads you back out the door with his hand on your back again, maybe this time a bit firmer than the last, and you weren’t complaining. You both wave your goodbyes for the weekend before you head out to the parking lot, and he heads towards his next class.

You were relieved to be going home, this first week of school has tested you mentally and emotionally and you were ready for a little break. You hop in your car, and twist your key in the ignition, but to your surprise, instead of your car roaring to life like it usually does. It just stalled, unable to start. You try the ignition a few more times before you rest your head on your steering wheel.

Just your fucking luck

You take your phone out of your jean pocket and call Violet to see if she knows any good mechanics in the area. But you only get her voicemail. “Come on Vi,”you mutter to yourself, trying her cell again and again. Only to get her voicemail each and every time. You couldn’t very well leave your car in the parking lot overnight, then you’d surely get another ticket. But what other option did you have?

You make the decision to call Violet’s home phone, thinking maybe she’s too engrossed in a TV show or something to see her phone going off. It rings a few times before someone picks up.

“Munson residence.” a deep familiar voice answers the phone.

Shit

“Hi Mr. Munson, is Vi there?” you reply.

“Nah she left about an hour or two ago to head to work, everything okay?” he asks a slight concern in his voice.

“Oh uh yeah, my- my car just isn’t starting and I don’t know any mechanics in the area who could come and take a look at it,” you respond anxiously

You hear what you assume is him blowing out some smoke from his mouth, you shake your head trying to stay on track.

“Any mechanic out here is gonna charge you an arm an a leg to come look at your car right before the weekend, let me come and take a look at it myself,” he suggests.

Your body runs cold, you couldn’t deal with another interaction with BOTH of them in the same day again, you’d burst into flames.

“Oh gods no that’s really okay Mr. Munson. I’ll just leave my car here overnight its no big deal, I’ll just walk home its not that far,” You babble anxiously.

You hear him scoff on the other end of the phone, “What do you mean walk home? Where are you Y/N?” his tone getting a bit more serious than the lighthearted goofy tone you usually get from him.

“I’m at school, it’s fine really, my apartment isn’t that far from-,” you squeak.

“Let me just grab my tools and I’ll meet you in the parking lot, which building are you in front of?” he interjects, you can hear some rustling on the other end of the phone.

“I-,“ you think about arguing with him but you know that in the end Mr. Munson is a stubborn man and you will lose. “I’m in front of the Humanities and Social Sciences building, its right by-,“ you confess.

He chuckles “Oh yeah I know the one, be there in a sec, hang tight.” he says before hanging up the phone.

You bring your phone down onto your lap in defeat. You hide in your car until you see his car pull up, you don’t need anyone seeing you, especially a certain sociology professor. His big black truck pulls into the space next to you, and you get out of your car to greet him.

“Hey thanks for coming all the way out here, I hope I didn’t take you away from anything or anyone,” you look up at him innocently. He stands about a foot away from you, but even then, you could see just how much taller he is than you. He could probably use you as an arm rest.

He gives you an easy-going smile, “No problem at all sweetheart, I’m happy to help!” You give him the keys and he goes to try and start the car and it stalls again and he clicks his tongue.

Your mind going back to the dreams you’ve had of his tongue on you, on your skin. You shiver at the thought, and you squeeze your arms around you willing yourself not to fall apart.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with opening the hood and looking inside. He takes off his leather jacket and lays it on top of the hood and rolls up his sleeves. He fiddles around inside of the hood for a few seconds before popping his head around the corner.

“Looks like your spark plug is shot, I have an extra on me in case of emergencies, it’s your lucky day pretty lady,” He announces cheerily.

Pretty lady

“Oh, thank you Mr. Munson, you’re a life saver!” you beam.

He looks at you again one more time, studying you for the second time this week, he looks like he’s contemplating something in his head. His eyes are like lasers on your skin, heating you up from the inside.

“It’s Eddie, you can call me Eddie honey, you’ve known me long enough.” he says as he smiles at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

You can’t help but smile back, “Okay, thanks, E-eddie,” you stammer out. His name feeling so odd on your tongue, he’s your best friend’s dad, would Violet think its weird that you call him by his first name now?

He smiles contently like he made the right decision and goes back to working on your car. You lean against his car just watching him work, seeing how his hands knowingly move on all the parts of your car that you don’t even know the names of, only being able to identify the windshield wiper fluid cap and oil fill cap. You look at his now uncovered arms that you didn’t see the last time you got a good look at him, you could see right near his left wrist Violets name tattooed in beautiful cursive, and D20 right above his left elbow. You see how veiny his hands and arms are, probably due to years of playing the guitar and working on various motorcycles and cars.

“So, what are you going to school for?” he says, looking at you through the corner of his eye while he works.

“Psychology mostly,” you reply easily.

“What do you want to do with it? Your degree?” he responds.

“I’d love to work with kids, I felt like no one ever listened to me as a kid, so I’d love to be able to be a safe space for kids to express themselves.” You shared, this was something you’ve been passionate for a while, wanting to work with kids. Giving them something that you never got when you were a kid, a place where they felt understood even if they didn’t feel like that at home.

He looks up at you from his work with an impressed look on his face, “That’s really fucking cool Y/N, I wish stuff like that had been around when I was a kid. Woulda made Middle School and High School a lot more bearable for me, trust me.”

Your heartbreaks at his confession, you figured that he probably wasn’t always the suave sexy metal head that he is now, and he probably got teased a lot when he was a kid. It reminded you of your own experiences in school, teased and never really fitting in anywhere. Violet went through something similar except it never really seemed to bother her, she was always the type of kid that always knew who she was and didn’t let anyone get in her way. You always admired that about her.

“Honestly me too,” you confess.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you, “No way, You and Vi had loads of friends in Middle School,” he says.

“Yeah, in Middle School sure, but high school was brutal without her there, kids are mean.” You say sadly, rubbing your boot into the asphalt trying to wash away depressing memories of eating in the bathroom and crying yourself to sleep at night.

Eddie scrunches his eyebrows together and nods knowingly, sharing that feeling. “Yeah, teenagers are fucking assholes.”

You nod knowingly, as Eddie steps around the front of your car to get into the driver’s seat, scootching closing to you, grabbing the side of your waist as he passes you. You take a shallow breath, and your mouth runs dry. His hand felt so perfect on your waist, like it belonged there… and then your mind wanders to Steve, his touch felt the same way.

Eddie got into the front seat and turned your key in the ignition, and sure enough your car roared to life.

“Huzzahh!” Eddie cheered, getting out of the driver’s seat and bowing to you. A smile plastered across his face in triumph.

“There ya go honey good as new, although you should stop by the house sometime, so I can put a new battery in your car, it looks like it’s about to take a shit on you, and I want you to be safe during the Winter.” He says casually wiping the oil and grease off his fingers with the rag in his tool kit.

He wants you to be safe

“That would be great, thank you again, honestly I don’t know what I would have done without you. What do I owe you Eddie?” you ask. Surely, he’d want some compensation for driving all the way out here on a Friday, probably ruining his plans to come help his daughters best friend with her car.

“On the house, and don’t fight me on this I’m not accepting any money from you.” He says slightly stern but in a way that makes you smile lightly.

“I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you or something, do you like cookies? I’ll bake you some cookies for all your help,” you insist.

“IF you happen to make double chocolate chip cookies and bring them over to the house, for Violet of course, I wouldn’t say no to one or two,” he says slyly.

“I’ll bring them over this weekend.” you say determined to not be in debt to him.

He packs his tools back into the trunk of his truck and shrugs his leather jacket back on, “I’ll hold you to that sweetheart.” he winks at you before getting back into his truck and waving to you as he drives off the lot.

You get back into your newly fixed car and drive home to your apartment, first thing on the agenda, a very cold shower.

The next few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind of epic proportions. Steve came back with your grades for your latest paper, and when yours got passed to you, at the top of your paper, “SEE ME AFTER CLASS” was written in blue pen. After class he explained that he was “very impressed” with your work and effort you spent on your paper and asked you to be his TA and help him a couple of days a week. Help him with grading papers, answering any questions your classmates had on assignments or class subjects, and help with lectures for upcoming classes. You couldn’t have said yes faster, not only did you have a huge massive crush on him. But you genuinely enjoyed his class and were excited to prove yourself. On those days you spent most of the time after your classes, spent huddled in his office with him grading papers or talking about different upcoming subjects you were going to learn in class. It was becoming one of your favorite parts of your day, you always left his office in the best mood. Plus, the flirting and your attraction to him only grew during this time, you noticed he started going more and more out of his way to touch you, or holding eye contact with you longer than was probably appropriate. You welcomed it, Steve made you feel like you were on cloud nine, some nights the two of you were left in his office until after dark, after all the work was done, just flirting and talking about life. Eating shitty takeout food that he’d grab from the cafeteria or the two of you would order in.

He always treated you with respect letting you talk about your feelings or whatever was on your mind, you eventually opening up to him about why you wanted to go into psychology, and he opened up to you about how he hadn’t always been the way he is now, and how there are parts of his past he’s ashamed of. The two of you bonded over your lack of family you had in your life, you told him about your parents basically ditching you after graduation and he told you about how his parents cut him off when he told them what decided what he wanted to do with his life and hadn’t heard much from him since. He reassured you that the only family that actually mattered was your chosen family and the people who love you that you let into your little corner of the world. You talked about your views on the world and your dreams. You liked that about him, that he listened to you and how modest and genuine he is, you assumed at first glance that someone with good looks like him and his upbringing he’d have an large ego. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but not in a bad way. You’d come to really like Steve Harrington, he had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match.

Which made it even more confusing on the days that you didn’t spend in his office. See you had saved up enough money for school and your expenses for the first couple of weeks, but that money only stretched so far. So, you looked for a job, and you became desperate. Being in a college town, good jobs that weren’t already taken by other college students were far and few between and being a TA wasn’t enough. So, one night after school when you were at Violets, Eddie overheard you talking about your dilemma, and offered you a job working for him. Eddie worked as a record producer and worked closely with a few music managers who were looking for social media manager. Which you happily accepted, there were no set hours and you could do a majority of your work in your pjs at home unless you needed to get Eddies opinion on something then you’d spend time out in the garage with him while he gave you advice or things the label is looking for in terms of the clients image or engagement numbers you needed to hit.

Sometimes you’d even make up excuses just to go over and spend time with him in the garage. He was patient with you while you slowly opened up to him about things that had happened over the past few years that you never wanted to worry Violet with, cheating boyfriends, bad friends, financial problems, and he took it all with stride, listening to and giving advice where he could. He’d spend time reminiscing about the “glory days” when his band, Corroded Coffin, used to play gigs every weekend at the hideout, a small bar on the outside of town. Or when he was in high school, he ran a club in school called the Hellfire Club where all his friends would play DnD, he even showed you that he got Hell Fire tattooed across his knuckles. You’d spend hours over there just tucked away in Eddies little corner of the house, sometimes he’d play songs for you on his guitar, or when he found out you had never played DnD he spent a few nights teaching you all the basics in case you ever wanted to play. You liked the way you felt when you were around Eddie, in a similar way that Steve did, Eddie quieted your thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety that usually swirled around in your head. You really liked Eddie, and it made your feelings even more confused because you felt guilty keeping all of this from Violet. You didn’t know how she would react to you having a crush on her dad, and you never wanted to put your friendship with her in danger. She was basically the only family you had, and you intended to keep it that way, even if it meant keeping your crush on her father a secret.

It all came to a head about a month later. You were staying late in Steve’s office grading papers while he was reading over some scientific studies that he was going to go over in class that following week. You were reading over a specific paper, a girl who sat behind you in class, who giggled at Steve during the first day of class. She had a lot of typos in her paper, and you had a hard time following her methods and asked for Steves opinion. He got up from his desk and went over to the other side of his desk where you were sitting, hovering over you so his face was close to yours. You loved when he did this, being able to see the honey bits in his eyes or the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he was thinking really hard, or how he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them.

For some reason the air in the room seems extra electrified, the tension being so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your breath hitched as he got extra close to read a specific part in the paper, you could smell his cologne so clearly it was intoxicating. Steve turned to you to tell you what points to dock from her paper, but you didn’t hear a single word he was saying, it was all drowned out by the lust you felt for him. You think he could sense it too, his eyes kept flickering between your eyes and your lips.

Oh gods was this really happening?

You could see his face getting closer and closer to yours, you closed your eyes, bracing for impact. Your heart was beating faster than you ever thought humanly possible. And then, he kissed you. More intensely than you’d ever been kissed before, he started out soft, testing the waters. Slowly brushing his lips against yours, working up intensity until his tongue prodded your lips asking for an invitation in. The invitation happily accepted by you, you welcomed him in with your lips and sighed into the kiss, allowing your hand to grasp at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He held onto the side of your face like if he let go, you’d vanish. You kissed like this for a minute or two, lips melding together and tongues intertwining. He tasted like his spearmint gum that he chews sometimes, and his lips were softer than you ever thought humanly possible.

But as quickly as it started, it stopped. Steve de-tangled himself from your grip and stood back.

“Fuck, holy shit, I- Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your teacher for Christ’s sake… FUCK!” he shouted.

You jump at the volume of his voice, you were not used to this Steve, or the tone he was using. He paced around the room for a few minutes, and you looked at your shoes embarrassed. Embarrassed because you weren’t sorry it happened. You had been dreaming for weeks about what his lips would feel like or what he'd taste like.

“I’m not Steve, you don’t need to be sorry because.. because I wanted it to happen, I’ll only be your student for a few more months and then after that we can do whatever we want,” you blurt out in desperation. Allowing the thoughts and dreams that hide in your head to spill out of your mouth. Steve sighs and sits back down in his chair, taking his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb.

“I- I think you should just go Y/N, I need to figure out what to do. This shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry it did,” he murmurs.

His words act like daggers in your heart, stealing all the breath from your lungs. All the worst-case scenarios that played out in your head when you felt insecure, now playing out right in front of you. You were angry, you know he feels the same way but he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it.

“Fuck you Steve, fuck you!” you bite out through your teeth, not allowing the tears to flow from your eyes, just yet. He just rejected you, the last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry. You pack up all the things that had been splayed-out all over Steve’s desk, shoving them into your bookbag, and storming out of the room.

Before you’re even out of the building the tears start streaming down your face, you choke back sobs as you get into your car. You bury your head in your hands, your shoulders shaking from how hard you were crying. You can’t go home, you thought. Not to an empty apartment where it’s even more apparent just how alone you are.

You put the key into the ignition and go to the only other place in town that you can think of going to, Violet’s house. You prayed to any god that could hear you, that Violet was home, but Eddie was not. You did not want him to see you like this, especially over a guy. He’d heard all the pathetic stories of love that hadn’t worked out you didn’t need to add another to the list.

Somehow luck was on your side with this, Eddie’s car was not in the driveway, only Violets. You get out of the car, not even bothering to lock it and run up to the door and let yourself inside with the key Violet had given you after your first week in Hawkins. Tears still streaming down your face, you take in your new surroundings; Violet was sitting on the couch watching some dumb rom com and eating popcorn. She looks startled by the sudden intrusion and the state you were in. Your mascara all smudged, and you had tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N? What happened?” she coos. She gets off the couch and walks over to you, her face softens when she gets closer to you, her face now shrouded in worry. She pulls you fiercely into a hug and just lets you cry on her shoulder. Eventually she brings you over to the couch and she gets you to tell her the events that have unfolded. She listened intently while you told her about your professor and how you felt about him, and then about how he rejected you after a mind-blowing kiss. She held your hand the entire time, rubbing soothing circles into your hand.

Just as you had finished telling her what happened you heard the familiar jingle of the doorknob and the heavy boots that followed. You couldn’t look at him right now, not when you looked like this.

“Hey, hey party people, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight I shoulda got more beer from the store!” Eddie sang. The closer Eddie got to you he realized something was off and stopped in his tracks.

“Now’s not a good time dad,” Violet said, still focusing her attention on you.

“What happened? Y/N are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen with your car?” his questions flying by you a million miles a minute. Too exhausted to say anything you let Violet speak for you.

“She kissed a guy at school, and he rejected her,” Violet says as softly as she can.

“Y/N kissed a guy at school?” he said, you could hear an edge in his voice that made you flinch slightly.

“Yes, dad god did you have to repeat it? She’s been through enough tonight. Come Y/N lets go upstairs.” She says clearly annoyed with her dad’s lack of empathy.

You couldn’t bear to look at Eddie, so you allow Violet to usher you upstairs into her room. You two cuddle up in her bed, she lets you borrow some clothes to spend the night in and gives you a makeup wipe to wash the mascara and mostly cried off eyeliner off your face. You felt so taken care of by her, you remember you used to do this for her in Middle School when boys would be shitheads to her, it took a lot to break Violet, but boys are the worst.

At some point Violet fell asleep when you guys were listening to a true crime podcast, you felt your tummy grumble and slowly slipped out of her room to find a snack in the kitchen. You were so worked up after the incident with Steve you had forgotten to eat something more than a few handfuls of popcorn. Downstairs was more quiet than usual, you couldn’t hear soft metal music coming from the garage or Eddies light humming. You assumed maybe he had gone out for the night.

Until he scared the shit out of you sitting at the kitchen table, silently. He looked upset, nursing a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Holy fuck you scared me, warn a woman, jeez!” you say, sounding a little more like your normal self when your alone with him. Usually, Eddie would retort with a smart-ass remark, but instead you got silence and a slight sad smile on his face. You sense he’s not in the mood, so you move farther into the kitchen to grab yourself an iced tea from the fridge and make yourself a sandwich.

It was usually never this awkward between the two of you, it broke your heart a bit. You just lost Steve and now it felt like you were losing Eddie too.

“Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?” he asked quietly.

You jumped a little not expecting him to speak. Trying to word things very carefully so there was no confusion.

“He kissed me and then I kissed him back, and then he broke off the kiss and told me to leave.” You sigh sadly and take a big gulp of your iced tea.

“Idiot.” he muttered under his breath.

You thought that’s what you heard but you didn’t know for certain.

“What?” you question.

“I said he’s an idiot.” he said a bit louder for you to hear clearly.

That made your aching heart flutter inside your chest. Men are impossible to read.

“Oh.” you murmur, not really sure what to say.

“He’s an idiot because I’d never let a girl like you go,” he says calmly.

You heart could beat outside of your chest right now, his words set your skin on fire. But you were simultaneously hit with overwhelming guilt. Violet. Your best friend. The one sleeping soundly upstairs who would never do anything to hurt you.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot more at stake here,” You say trying to tread lightly.

He abruptly pushes out of his chair and heads to the garage door. “Yeah I know.” he says, sounding a mix between disappointed and angry.

You could feel a new rush of tears welling in your eyes, not only did you lose Steve today, but you were going to lose Eddie too. Two out of your three safe spaces, gone in one day. You felt so small, like you were free falling and you couldn’t grab anything to save yourself.

“What do you want from me Eddie?” you say defeated, barely above a whisper.

Eddie stops at your words, opening up the door to the garage, so close to freedom. His eyes now soft, seeing the state of you. “Nothing sweetheart, I want nothing from you.”

You just nod at his words, slouching your shoulders trying to protect your broken heart. Willing yourself to accept the fact that you lost both of them today, and there’s nothing that you can do to change it. You look at the floor, watching your tears slowly cloud your vision. You just hoped he left the room before you start actually crying.

Then you hear the garage door shut and feel the last of your heart shatter with it. You look up to confirm what your heart already knew, that Eddie was gone.

But where a closed door should be, showed the outline of Eddie standing in front of a closed door. You tried to blink away the tears, to try and figure out if you were seeing things correctly. The look on Eddies face was between a mixture of pain and confliction, his fists squeezed at his sides.

“Fuck it.” is the last thing you hear him say before he takes long strides over to you in the kitchen. Now right in front of you he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you firmly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to stay. His calloused hands wiping away your tears. You moan into his touch, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to dance with yours. He kisses you with such passion, showing you with actions he what couldn’t say with his words. You push him impossibly closer to you, willing the two of you to meld into one if that what it took, not letting him have the chance to leave you. He takes that as an invitation to lift you up and put you on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Your legs caging him in on either side of his body.

“Please don’t go.” you mutter wetly between kisses. Eddie moves from your mouth and leaves kisses from the edges of your wet eyes to a part on your neck that made your skin irrupt in goosebumps.

“Never baby, m not goin anywhere I promise.” he reassures nuzzling his nose against a sweet spot on your neck. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling a little better than you did a minute ago. Kissing Eddie made every other rational thought cease to exist in your brain. Just you, and Eddie, your bodies moving in tandem with each other. Harmony.

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