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sweetinsaniiity · 4 months ago

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My Heart, I Surrender

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒��𝚐 - intruder!san x virgin!reader ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, age gap of 10 years (but both full adults), sociopathic tendencies but San is a !gentleman, suspense, somnophilia, fingering, hair-pulling, , corruption kink, breeding kink, oral sex (FL receiving), creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), tit sucking, rough sex, size kink, overstimulation, cum tasting ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, sexual assault, degrading name calling (slut, whore), non-consent sex, reluctance, gaslighting and manipulation to give in ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 16.5K (goal was 14K but oh well) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - The most unforgettable night of your life happens when an intruder breaks in and steals your body, your innocence, and your heart. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - If this is triggering to you, please do not continue. This is a work of fiction not meant to represent the members in real life. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS TYPE OF ENCOUNTER. This is not a go-signal for anyone to do this. This is a fantasy and IT SHOULD STAY THAT WAY. You have been warned. More notes towards the end. Join the taglist here. Title from I Prevail ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @ginger-mingi ◄

The pouring rain has always provided me with a sense of comfort I cannot even begin to explain. I wasn't sure if it was the sound of it hitting the pavement, or even the smell of it as it watered the meadow fields. Oh, the fresh scent of it when it hits my nose when I inhale brings serenity.

So here I stood under a dingy, little waiting shed where I sought shelter from the rain that I claimed to love.

I looked left and right hoping to see a bus coming while I rubbed my arms and my teeth chattered, but nothing. Even the waiting shed did absolutely nothing to shield me from the biting cold.

I sighed, instantly regretting not making it on time here for the other bus. With nothing better to do, I sat back down on the somewhat clean-ish seat that the shed provided and waited it out. If it wasn't for the rain, I would have been busy admiring the lush trees and the beautiful spring flowers that surrounded the area like I always usually did when I waited for the bus.

I perked when I saw headlights to my left through the haze, but I quickly became disappointed when I realized it wasn't my bus, it was just a car passing by.

"Damn," I deflated back onto my seat. dejected at the thought of staying in this shed for longer than I wanted to.

I stared at the oncoming car, suddenly wishing I could drive. I wouldn't be waiting if I knew how. It came faster and faster until I was able to make out its model and its colour - a sleek black.

And then it completely stopped in front of me.

I frowned, confused and then got frightened at what the owner possibly wanted. It could be anything, but the one that struck in my mind was some sick psycho that wanted to do things to me, a lone girl in a deserted area.

I cursed in my mind when I looked around and nobody was around to hear me scream for help just in case. I looked down suddenly, finding my shoes interesting, hoping that the driver would go away soon.

I bit my lip when I heard the distinct sound of a car window rolling down. Oh God, I thought nervously. Was I about to get kidnapped?

"Y/N?"

As if I wasn't nervous enough. My confusion grew not only because I heard my name out of nowhere, but that voice sounded a little too familiar.

I looked up and my heart stopped beating for a second or two. He was the kind of handsome that made me hold my breath and those chestnut eyes that stared already spoke to me before he even said a word.

"M-Mr. Choi!" I blurted out in mild surprise. I stood up and began to approach his car but quickly stumbled when I realized it was still raining. "W-What are you doing here?"

I blushed profusely when he smiled at me, it was heart-melting, especially when his dimples popped out from his cheeks. I mentally cursed myself for being this embarrassing in front of him.

"This is near my workplace," he replied. He slowly raked his eyes from my feet all the way to my face and his smile grew wider. "How long have you been waiting for the bus?"

"Almost an hour," I replied truthfully.

His smile drops slightly and he clicks his tongue. He presses on something and I hear the click of something unlocking. "Get in," he cocked his head towards the passenger seat.

My face heats up even more if that was possible. "Oh," I squeak out. "I-I couldn't possibly impose on you, I'm fine, really."

"Please, I insist," he pauses to gauge my reaction. "I would feel awful if I just left you here stranded."

I was weighing my options, but the reality was, I was afraid he would hear how hard my heart was beating if I was to go into the same space as him, let alone something as intimate as a car.

He sighed when he saw me doubting. "We live in the same complex anyway, plus that bus won't be coming soon," he insisted.

I pursed my lips together, and it didn't escape his attention. He was right, I was the one being unreasonable. Plus, I knew him. I knew he had pure intentions - to simply just take me home.

"Okay," I murmured, finally agreeing to his insistence.

I stopped breathing when he broke out into the widest grin. "Good," he beamed.

I was about to move and get my stuff from the seat when Mr. Choi got out of the car and started to walk towards me through the rain. "You're going to get wet!" I tried to stop him.

"A little rain wouldn't hurt me," he shot me a wink and I almost fainted at the sight.

He passed me and I caught a whiff of his cologne, the smallest hint of it already transporting me into places I don't dare go in. He carried my stuff for me as he opened the umbrella I didn't even notice he had because I was busy looking at him.

"L-Let me carry the umbrella, at least," I offered like a decent human being. I made a move to grab the umbrella, but he quickly moved it away.

I glanced up at him and I was taken aback by the sharp and scathing look he gave me, but it was gone in less than a second. He opened the car door for me and I immediately forget about it. To his warm cologne and his even warmer actions, it was easy to like him.

"Cold?" he asked as he buckled his seatbelt. I nodded, not that I had a choice, I was literally shivering when I got in.

I murmured a small 'thank you' when he upped the heat in his car, and just like that, we drove away from that wretched waiting shed. I held in a satisfied exhale as I sank into the softest and most comfortable seat I've ever sat on.

"You said your workplace was near here?" I began to speak in hopes to fill in the awkward air. "May I ask what you do?"

"I have a startup company along with my friends downtown. You know that 7-Eleven by the corner?" I nodded slowly and he hummed. "It's near that area. I always pass this road to go home."

So that explains the aura he exuded - mature, well-put together. And, by God, the way he always dressed. Today, he wore a business suit that was tailored so well and emphasized his body. It made him look like he had power.

"You?" he continued. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, I just met up with a couple of my friends," I shrugged. "Got a little too carried away and missed my ride."

"No one offered to take you home?"

"They all live on the other side of the city, plus my complex is far. I don't mind riding the bus."

There was a moment of hesitation on his face. "I can drive for you from now on," he offered as he glanced at me side-eyed while he tried to focus on the road.

I watched him side-eyed as well, afraid to turn my head to stare at him head on. My mouth felt dry and I didn't know what to say, and there was a certain gentleness in his voice that made me want to reach out to him.

"N-No, I don't want to be a bother, Mr. Choi."

"San."

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

In an instant, he turned and our eyes finally met. "Just call me San."

"I-I can't possibly do that," I muttered. I felt my heart lodge onto my throat, but I tried to play it cool. "You are my senior."

He put on the most inviting, volatile, and apathetic smirk. It was such the opposite expression to his usual gentleness. "Why?" San raised a mischievous brow. "Your boyfriend is going to get mad?"

I couldn't move, it felt like I would have to muster tremendous effort to do so, and my brain was lagging. I had to think and move well.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," I finally uttered. His smirk grows bigger, though I chose to ignore it.

"That settles it, then," San chuckled more to himself, the sound of it so low that it brought shivers to my spine.

He noticed it and before I could turn away from him clearly flustered, a grin spread across his face and made him look even more handsome than he already was, if it was possible. I'm pretty sure my face was redder than a tomato right now.

"Are you going to be a dear and think about it, at least?" San looked left and right on the street before driving across the familiar intersection that led to the complex.

At that moment, I felt my body flush warm. I must have made a small sound of agreement because San let it go for now and finally concentrated on driving both of us. I'm not even sure, and I don't want to care right now.

It was silent, the only sound we could hear was the rain hitting the roof of the car and the heater whirring in the air. Outside there is no traffic and the light had finally gone, which might mean that it was almost nighttime. The fragile peace had taken over us, and it gave me moments to think.

Being in the car with the one and only Choi San definitely wasn't in my list of things to do today. He was well-known in the complex we lived at immediately after he moved in a couple of months ago. He wasn't my neighbour, not even close, but even he had caught my unassuming eye.

He was attractive - hot, to be frank. When he walked into the room, it seemed as if conversation stopped to sit in stunned silence, he had all of our attention and he knew it. He knew damn well we all found him attractive, yet he never let it all go into his head. He was the sweetest gentleman who always smiled and helped around without asking for something in return.

I couldn't help the admiration I felt for him, and it wasn't only me who held a high opinion of him, everyone I knew did so that automatically doesn't make my admiration anything special in itself.

Or maybe mine was something more. I quickly brushed the thought away from my mind because I knew that it was impossible. San might not even look or want somebody that was much younger than him. In this case, if I wasn't mistaken, I was a good ten years younger than him.

"You look like you want to say something," San suddenly spoke.

"Do you have a family?" I sputtered out before I could stop myself.

I was waiting for San to laugh or think I'm stupid, or perhaps make a snide remark of how nosy I was getting, but it never came.

"No, I currently don't," he replied, the gentleness he was known for back in his voice.

Which means that he's open to having one in the future.

"I see," I trailed off. I didn't know what else to say, I already got the answer to my question.

I choked on my next breath when I felt San's right hand grab my thigh. Almost robotically, my head slowly swivels to stare at him wide-eyed with unparalleled surprise. He stayed focused on the road, but I saw a ghost of a smirk grace his lips.

"Close your mouth, doll," San whispered, his voice dropping into a husky rasp. "Look away."

It took everything in me to do so and stare straight ahead on the unwinding road. The sudden grab made my heart pound so hard, the way his thumb would slowly caress my thighs left goosebumps in its wake.

"Mr. Choi," I began, trying very hard to keep my voice leveled, but we both knew that it sounded shakier than the sky right now.

He side-eyes me once more, his other hand still maneuvering the steering wheel, and raised a brow. "I told you," he griped. "It's San."

A shaky breath left my mouth when he squeezed my thigh. It was enough for me to feel it, but not enough for it to hurt - not even close. He let go momentarily and drummed his slender fingers on my thighs, instead. I swallowed as I stared at his sinful fingers, the things they could do...

"Say my name."

I snapped out of the indecent thoughts from my head before they could fully form. "Pardon?" I questioned.

He chuckled, this time, those dimples of his popped out again. I could have sworn my heart leapt out of my chest. "I said," San spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Say my name."

"B-But--"

"Say it."

I gasped when he squeezed my thigh with more pressure. It still didn't hurt, but something else of mine hurt. "Okay, okay," I sighed. "S-San."

His lips stretched into a satisfied grin and he finally let go and kept his hand to himself. "Good girl," he smiled.

The hair on my nape prickled at the way San's voice - deep, thick, and most of all, powerful - but that wasn't even the worst part. He was smiling, and that smile was something he reserved when he was being the sweetest, most precious gentleman everybody knew him to be.

What have I gotten myself into? Was he not who everybody, including me, thought he was? My chest was about to explode, my hands were getting clammy and I was close to hyperventilating as I leaned closer to the door to try and avoid him.

Soon enough, we reached the apartment complex and he had slowly stopped the car in front of my apartment. I don't know how he knew where I lived, but at this point, I was not even going to ask. I might hear something I was not ready to hear.

"T-Thank you," I mumbled and hurriedly grabbed my things so I could get the hell out of his car as fast as humanly possible. There was no way I was staying in it longer - it was suffocating.

I speedwalked immediately away and I was about to be completely out of his sight when he stopped me and called me back. "Y/N, wait."

I cursed under my breath and begrudgingly looked back at him with an expectant gaze. The tremors in my heart upped when I saw that beautiful smile I always found attractive on him.

"I'll see you later, doll," he said with hopeful vigor. Did I want to see him again?

"I highly doubt it," I nervously tucked a stray hair out of my face to avoid looking at him. At the end of the day, he was kind enough to take me home but it ended there. We had nothing in common and there was no way he would look at me like that.

He smirked, the dark look in his eyes made me shrink from where I stood. "You never know."

He definitely doesn't mean that. Right?

I didn't bother to watch his car drive off. I quickly ran into my apartment and straight into the shower in record time to take the grime off of my body and hopefully, relax.

That was wishful thinking on my part. There was absolutely no way I could erase that odd encounter with San from my brain in the next few weeks.

I stood still in the shower and let all the water flow from my scalp all the way down to my toes. Heat filled my entire body when I stared at the section where San had squeezed my thighs. It was slightly pink from the pressure, something that would face away in a couple of minutes.

The way his personality would switch in a matter of seconds creeped the living hell out of me. He went from being so endearing to something else completely that went over my brain capacity.

I frowned, not fully able to comprehend how San was as a person. This is exactly why you should never take a person at face value - they might end up surprising you in ways you never thought was even possible.

I dried my hair, still in a daze. Usually I would spend some time with skin and body care, but tonight I didn't care enough to even make an effort, so after I was done with my hair, I put on my favourite silk nightgown.

I decided to sit down momentarily on the couch to do some deep thinking, but that ended up being a dud. Within moments, I was asleep.

I stirred awake in the middle of the night, I was confused, I was the type who slept like a log once I'm out - this means I usually never wake up in between my sleep, if not, at all. I tried to shake the confusion and moved my arm towards the bedside table to grab my phone.

'4:20 A.M.'

I groaned softly, frustrated at the fact that it's dead in the night and I was sentient. I had to work in a few hours and I never did well when my sleep pattern was disturbed. I willed myself to sleep and put the blanket over my head.

I opened my eyes, startled. Blanket?

I tried to make sense of what my mind was slowly realizing. I was in bed when I knew for a fact that I had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago.

My brain alerted me into panic and this time, I was fully awake. Maybe I had walked to my bed half asleep and I just didn't remember it? Impossible. I was a heavy sleeper, I would have definitely remembered if I got up unceremoniously. So the question was, how am I here, and how long have I been here?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes timidly to will the sleepiness away from me. Maybe I have just been stressed out at work and am blacking out sometimes, which was worrying if that really was the case.

I looked at the couch I was in and everything was fine, except for the dark figure sitting down on it. I stared for a few minutes before shaking my head.

"Definitely tired," I mumbled to myself, disoriented, before laying back down and trying to fall back asleep. I wonder what that was...

My heart dropped to my stomach when I realized what the hell I just saw and I opened my eyes once more, this time, the sleepiness was fading away. A dark figure sitting on my couch?

How long has it been here just watching me sleep? I stiffened, the energy in the room felt absolutely different. I stayed still, listening quietly if something would be moved or if I was really imagining things.

But nothing. Just the thick, sinister silence that enveloped the room. With mild unease slowly creeping up to me, I chose to stay still in fear, hoping that this was only a dream and that thing was a figment of my imagination.

Except that I knew it wasn't. I knew it was a person. I saw that it was a man. He was sitting comfortably on my couch with his arms crossed, watching me sleep.

My worst fears came to life when I heard a shuffle and the distinct sound of somebody getting up from the couch. My heart started beating frantically when I felt the bed dip behind me. I tried not to flinch at the sudden intrusion, I tried not to breathe either.

Who was in my bed? How in the world did they even get in? I was a thousand percent sure I locked the door when I came home too, so how? Luckily, the only other entrance to my apartment - my window - was in my direct view, and my heart dropped when I saw that it was wide open.

'Please, go away, please,' I prayed inside my head, but things never really worked out like that, didn't they?

I felt a large hand touch my leg, its presence leaving a burning feeling upon my skin. It stayed there for what seemed like forever until it gently lifted the blanket up a bit so the hand could slide up my skin.

I tried to remain unmoved as my mind struggled to make sense of what was happening and I almost let out a whimper when I felt the rough hand slowly caress my skin and it wept higher until it stopped at my clothed thigh. His hand was dangerously close to my core and it was terrifying.

I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, the dread of waiting what he was going to do next making me want to pass out in extreme horror.

He did the unexpected - he lifted his hand away from my thigh and I would have been relieved, but I felt the mattress dip even more and I can tell from the movement that he was trying to climb the bed and stay next to me.

Tears started to pool in my eyes, I was petrified in fear. I heard the man sigh softly as he slowly started to stroke my hair in the warmest and gentlest manner. I stopped breathing when his fingers slowly started to trace my face - my cheeks, lips, nose.

"I know you're awake," I heard him whisper, cutting through the dead silence.

I willed myself to open my eyes and it took a while for them to adjust, but the panic seeps into me nonetheless when I saw him. He was sitting tentatively beside me, and since he was against the light, I still couldn't see his face clearly.

But I can tell he was huge. There was no way I could fight him.

"Did you...move me to the bed?" I asked, my voice shaking as I fought the tears from falling from my eyes.

"Yes," he replied, and the sound of it sent shivers to my body. He had a deeper voice, it was unfortunately pleasant to my ears.

"What do you want from me?" I asked next, afraid of what the answer might be. He began to stroke my hair again. "Please, don't do that..."

He tensed, his hand stopping at my head and I was terrified that he would start grabbing my hair, but surprisingly, he does stop. "A lot of things," he cryptically replied.

I suppress a whimper when I feel him move. I was too terrified to move and the intruder took the opportunity to lean down my ear.

I exhaled a terrified sigh when I felt his breath hit my ear. I finally let out a whimper when he blew softly in my ear and more goosebumps flared up on my skin. He chuckled softly, the closeness of his proximity emphasizing how menacing it was.

"For example," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "You, for one."

My eyes go wide, the reality of the situation crashing down on me abruptly, and I realize what his intentions were with me - he was going to assault me.

Tears started streaming down my face, and without thinking, I pushed the blanket off me and quickly tried to roll to the edge of the bed, but I didn't make it too far when I felt my feet being grabbed.

I screamed bloody murder when I was dragged roughly back into the middle of the bed, my hands grabbing I could to stop myself, but it was no use.

I was flipped to my back and I cried harder when he grabbed my arms violently and pinned them above my head as he straddled me.

"Please don't hurt me," I cried, my own pitiful voice getting to me. I closed my eyes as tightly as possible as if that would make the man on top of me vanish.

I flinched when I felt fingers stroke my cheek gently. "Shh, breath," he hushes. "I need you to calm down."

I struggled momentarily underneath him. I gasped when he pushed the hand he was using to pin both of mine on the bed with a pressure that was almost painful. "Stay still," he said, his voice taut.

I tried my luck again but all that earned me was a growl from him. "Stay still," he reiterated coldly, the gentleness in his voice gone. "And shut up."

I listened and I stayed still for what seemed like hours, my position vulnerable. I was afraid of what he'd do if I disobeyed.

I gulped when I felt him leaning forward, gasping quietly when I felt his other hand cup my cheek and give it a gentle kiss, his lips lingering for a while before he started whispering the most soothing words I'd hear for a while.

"Just like that, doll, breathe in and out for me," he mumbled tenderly. He started to soothingly stroke my skin - my face, my neck, my arms. "I am not going to hurt you."

"I'm going to scream if you don't get off me," I spoke in an attempt to threaten him, and it came out sounding pathetic.

He hummed like a gentle parent comforting their child. "There's really no need, I said I'm not going to hurt you, so don't be scared."

"Y-You're scaring me," I gulped, my eyes still closed.

How can I not be scared? He was huge and I knew for a fact that even if I died trying, I don't have a chance of overpowering him.

He planted a small kiss on the top of my head and I caught a whiff of his cologne. I froze, that smelled extremely familiar.

"Am I?" I heard him sigh. "I'm sorry."

I can hear and feel the blood rushing to my ears. Now that my sight is blank, all my other senses are stronger and I am now slowly realizing how awfully familiar his voice was sounding. I just couldn't pinpoint who exactly it was.

"Do I...know you?" I slowly asked, my chest heaving up and down to due my breathlessness.

Unfortunately, he noticed it. My breath hitched when his free hand, the one not pinning mine down, lightly brushed my hardened nipples. I cursed mentally for not wearing a bra tonight.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" he mumbled before he stopped touching my breasts. I breathe a sigh of relief. A couple more seconds and I would have made a sound.

"Maybe you do," he continued. "Maybe you don't."

What a terrifying response. A stranger, an intruder, was in my home and basically holding me captive and I had no idea how far he would go tonight.

I ignored him and my shaky voice sounded, "What do you intend to do to me?"

Fright constricted my chest when he leaned down and gave the soft skin on my neck little bites, pecks, and licks. "What do you want me to do to you?" his husky voice purrs into my ear.

Heat spreads all over my body at the involuntary pleasure I felt from the little of kisses, the small kissing sounds his lips were making against my skin loud in my ears and I ashamedly clenched my legs together. I felt him smile against my skin when my body betrayed me and I gasped a bit when he sucked on my skin.

"I'm going to make you feel good," he murmured, his free hand touching and squeezing my hips and sides, just stopping below my chest.

I whined moving my head slightly in a poor attempt to get him off of me. It was extremely humiliating. "Don't," he warned, his voice rigid and gravely.

Tears started to form again in my eyes. It was so pathetic. Had I been stronger enough, I would have been out of here. I gasp when his hand kneads my breast, and he was doing it so tenderly as if he was afraid that I would burst if he wasn't careful enough.

"P-Please," I arched my back unwillingly towards his hand. I felt him groan deeply against my skin, the vibration sent shivers to my spine.

"Shh, I said stop moving," he held me tighter, more tensely. I got a bit frightened, he was so unpredictable that I didn't know how to act.

My brain can't properly wrap around the situation. He's an intruder, which I can only assume as someone who is never up to any good, but he is excruciatingly gentle, and the way he can make my body react to his touch was alarming.

"Ah!" I squealed when he suddenly pinched my nipple. He laughed huskily and he didn't do it again. My skin was on fire, I have never been more terrified in my life than right now.

"You feel so good, I can't wait to make you mine." he growled. "Not that you weren't yet."

It occurred to me that it must be a nightmare, perhaps I should just go with it, or maybe if she refused he would willingly leave. But that would never happen, he was here to take me.

I snapped back into reality when I heard the worst sound I could possibly hear all night - a zipper being undone.

I began thrashing and resisting again. "Wait, wait, please stop," I begged. "I-I'll give you anything you want, I have money---"

I screamed when his hand wrapped around my neck. "You're testing my patience, doll," he hissed, squeezing on the sides of my neck.

I choked on little air, I was getting lightheaded before he let me go. I took big gulps of chair as I coughed, scared out of my wits. Oh God, I thought dreadfully. He's going to kill me!

"You move one more time," he whispered menacingly. "I am going to shove my cock in you and fuck you like the little cumslut you are." I whined when he bit my shoulder painfully, I was pretty sure it drew blood. "You understand?"

When I didn't respond, he bit my shoulder harder. "Speak when told to," he growled.

"Yes! Yes! Okay, okay! Please," I cried like a wounded animal, - well, I am now - and he lets my shoulders go.

"Good. If you're a good girl, I won't do anything," he chuckled. He gave me soft kisses on the area he bit. "You poor thing..."

This was much worse than I thought. I hate this, I hate every single moment of this. I had noticed early on that if I did as he said, he would be fine, but the moment I acted up, he would get rougher.

"Anyway," he said sarcastically. "I don't want your money."

"Why not?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He laughed amusingly. He had an infuriatingly attractive laugh. If only it wasn't too dark, I could have seen his face too. "Because money can't get me what I want right now."

I frowned. "I'm going to call the police on you," I stated, my voice shaking, hoping that he'd get intimidated enough.

"Cute," he chuckled lowly.

"Please, don't do this," I begged loudly.

"Why not?" he clicked his tongue. "I promise that I wouldn't do anything you don't want."

"I don't want you here," I sniffled.

"Don't say that," he replied tensely, his grip on my hands tightening as well.

There was nothing more I wished for right now than somebody to help me. My mind drifted to Mr. Choi. He would have helped me if I asked. I regretted not getting his number like everyone did.

Even with the odd encounter in the car with him, I knew him to be of moral standards and he would help. He was the only one I knew big and strong enough to take this stranger down.

He finally let my hands go and I tensed as I felt him moving in on top of me. I whimpered when his hands spread my legs so he could lay down on me in between them. I blushed both in anger and embarrassment. I had no underwear tonight and I can feel his erection straining through his pants.

His mouth found mine and my eyes flew open immediately. He gave me an open mouthed kiss before pulling away to grasp the back of my neck.

"Look at me," he demanded roughly. I shook my head aggressively and in rebellion and turned my head to the side in spite. He can honestly kiss my ass---

"Oh," I rasped when his hand started to massage and knead my inner thighs. I winced when his mouth started to attack my neck again. This time he roughly bit and sucked, his tongue swirled all over the sensitive parts of my skin as his hands slowly went higher and higher at a dangerous pace.

I was overwhelmed with the odd mixture of pain, fear, pleasure, and hopelessness. The way his hot breath hit my ears was so distracting too.

"Doll, look at me," he whispered against my ear in a tortured voice. "I want to see your beautiful face."

"Please, stop! I really don't want to," I gritted my teeth.

He chuckled. "We'll see."

He lifts my nightgown up to my hips and before I knew it, his nimble fingers grazed my pussy. I was petrified, heat ignited my whole being. I hear his shaky breaths against my ear and I fight off the urge to even breathe, myself.

"Stop it, please, stop," I begged through my broken cries.

He ignored my pleas as he played with little tufts of my hair down there. I didn't shave, yes, but I wasn't expecting this either. He traces my pussy lips with a finger, sliding up and down, and I couldn't stop the moan from my lips when he goes in between.

"That feel good?" he whispered, his voice taut. He groaned when my body shakes beneath him as he circled my swollen clit. "I can give you more than this."

"N-No, please, I-I think I'm good," my voice trembled from the sensation.

"Then look at me," he commanded, his voice back to its kind tone as he coaxed me. "Please, doll."

"I don't know you enough for that type of connection," I swallowed. "Just get this over with."

"But you do know me, have you forgotten?" he mused, his fingers slowing down. I tried to rack my brain for anything, but there was nothing. When I didn't reply, he sighed. "I guess not."

His form went from slight amusement to a detrimental, subtle disappointment. I can feel his despondent stare penetrate through myself, and it was then I realized that he was actually disappointed at my lack of response.

"That man in the car earlier," he began. "Who's that?"

I was confused at first, then I remembered what he was referring to. Terror washed over me, he was watching me when San had taken me home?

"A friend," I curtly replied, making it short and hopefully he'll buy it.

He scoffed lightly and removed his hands from my aching cunt. I was pleasantly surprised when he actually got off me and sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned on me. I breathed a sigh of relief but not for long because he still seemed like he wanted to ask more and I was right.

"A friend, huh?" he scoffed again. "It didn't seem like it earlier. There was definitely a connection there."

I gulped. This man was dangerous. He was watching close enough to know the difference. I had to tell him the truth. "It wasn't like that," I bit my lip. "Mr. Choi has always been kind, he's a key figure in the complex."

His back tenses. "Why? You think you don't have a chance or something?"

"That thought never even crossed my mind," I sighed.

"Why?"

His voice was very strained. I paused, not knowing what to say. It was unnerving and the silence was making me sweat. I stared at his form and I almost gasped when I looked up at his face.

I couldn't see it but the shadows in his side profile blew my mind. This man was clearly handsome, not that it mattered since he was a creep, but I don't know. Maybe I was expecting a drunkard of an imp. Certainly not this one.

He clenched his jaw and I had to restrain the cynicism in my eyes. "Is it the age gap?"

My eyes widened in surprise. How did he know? San definitely didn't look that old from afar. That or I'm the one who looks old.

"W-Well, not necessarily," I stammered. "Though that is a huge factor, yes." I had this urge to tell him the truth, I don't know why. "Plus, there's no way Mr. Choi would look at me in that way."

"How would you know? You never once spared even a glance in my direction."

I was confused at what he was referring to. He did say that I knew him, but I certainly don't remember anyone that I was close with enough for me to look at them. The physical aspect too, this man is big and sturdy, I don't remember...

My brows furrowed in concentration as the man stood up from my bed and my breath halted. That was a lie, I did know someone who looked like this.

He stepped into the light and I audibly gasped. I'd always known he was incredibly good-looking but the light that the moon gave him did him justice. His jawline was exquisite, such a contrast to his cat-like features, and by God, his body.

He stared at me with a seriousness I'd never seen him wear before as he took his grey suit off. He was left with a black turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide his large biceps from me.

"S-San?" I uttered his name before I could stop myself, sitting up so I could take a good look at him and determine if he was an apparition or not.

I couldn't help the shock and the dread that came over me. The one person, I had been putting up on a pedestal, the one man I had been thinking of asking for help in my dire situation was none other my intruder.

"I am deeply disappointed with you, Y/N. Truly," he shook his head in mock concern and crossed his arms over his chest.

San stared at me as I attempted to cover my almost naked body with my blanket and a couple of pillows. "That's not going to help your case," he smirked.

"I'm going to scream," I said indignantly. San raised a brow in amusement. "I mean it, please get out! I won't tell anyone---"

"Scream, if you must," he shrugged nonchalantly, walking closer to the bed again. "I paid the neighbours for vacation. They're probably halfway across the world now," he grinned sadistically.

I gasped when he put his arms on the bed, leaned on me, and whispered in my ear. "It's just you and me, doll. So go ahead, scream. It turns me on."

I pushed him away from me hastily and edged myself to the corner of my bed. "You're a monster!" I screamed.

San laughed loudly. "Finally," he mused. "I was so sick of playing nice with you. I like you like this. You look prettier."

The way he laughed out loud maniacally and sadistically scared me almost half to death. It was loud, deep, and menacing and it reminded me of how the devil would laugh if it existed.

I was alone, so screaming really wouldn't do anything. And I certainly wasn't going to knowingly do anything that was going to excite him. That was a terrifying thought.

The fact that it was the Choi San - the well-known gentleman, the man who was known to always smile despite everything, the one who drove me home without anything in return, at that time at least, and the person who was beloved by everybody from children to elderly people.

And the one I had admired from afar because of those qualities. I felt betrayed, and it hurt more than I'd like to admit.

We stared at each other for a moment, unmoving. San's icy glare was shrouded with the unmistakable fire of anger and lust, and I was afraid of how he would hurt me if he had become a little too unstable.

"You're a sociopath," I declared after the awkward silence.

He raised his brows in a seemingly displeased manner, but at the same time, I knew he was amused. "Oh? Pray tell, my pretty doll," he mocks. "Enlighten me."

"I mean it," I declared, exasperated. "Y-You can't just break into my apartment like this and expect me to like you afterwards! You're sick in the head!"

He sighed, looking away from and staring at the window he broke into. For a second, I thought he was rethinking his actions, but no. He wasn't the Choi San I knew him to be anymore, I wasn't sure how far his instability would take me.

He side-eyes me, I looked back expectantly. "You can just give in to me or we can do this the hard way," San convinced, his tone calm but persuasive. He knew he had the charm and he was using it to his advantage.

"You took that option away from me when you forced your way in here and touched me in ways I didn't want," I scoffed.

I was about to say more choice words, when San whipped his head towards me fast and I noticed his eye twitching slightly and the veins popping on his forehead while he looked at me long, too long, and hard. I gulped. He was angry.

I know I shouldn't, I know that I'm digging my own grave here by talking back at him but I can't help it. Whether it was the betrayal, one only I knew, or the adrenaline, I wasn't sure.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Y/N," he hid his annoyance with arrogance. It was the first time he said my name tonight and it dripped with venom. "Come hell or high water, I will make you mine."

The conviction in San's voice at his confession was nothing short of astounding and the way he's looking at me right now, I can't stand the intensity of it - he would rather take death than failure right now.

"And who do you think you are?" I was irked, really irked actually. It was the easiest way to hide my panic. "And if I say no?"

San smirked, darkness shrouding his features like he was waiting for me to screw up and say something stupid so he had an excuse to finally say what he's been wanting to say.

"I'm going to fuck you," San dared, no hint of amuse left in his tone. "The plan was to make you submit, but if it's impossible, then I'll just take you. The choice is yours."

I was taken aback. "You wouldn't," I whispered.

San cocked his head to the side. "Would you like to test that theory?"

I can tell he was serious, too. I haven't known him well, but tonight was not the night to test his integrity and if he was a man of his word.

"Can we just do this next time?" I begged. "I-I can come up with a better proposition for us--"

"No," he quickly cut off. "I already called out of your work earlier, anyway. We have all night and morning."

My face contorts in confusion. "What?" I apprehensively asked.

San started to stalk towards me until he was at the end of the bed. I gulped, the way his muscles rippled against his clothes emphasized just how big he was and how powerless I was.

He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheeks as he looked down on me, literally and figuratively. He exuded a power that you can't touch, and honestly, it made me realize how truly dominant he was.

"I know everything about you, doll," he said as he took his wristwatch off and placed it on my bedside table. "I wanted you the moment I saw you for the first time."

I was tense and I watched him take his necklace out next while maintaining eye contact with me. "I kept asking around about you because for some reason, we never were in the same place together. You know what they said?"

I swallowed restlessly when he started to unbuckle his belt next. "You were the sweetest, kindest, and now that I'm up close and personal, the most innocent thing too."

His eyes darkened by the second and it reminded me of that sharp and scathing look I thought I saw on him earlier before I got in his car. It clicked; which one was the real San?

"I know everything about you, my doll, except for one thing," he smirked before he took his turtleneck sweater off. "I don't know how you sound when I'm inside you, yet."

"You can't do this," I whimpered pathetically, trying not to look at how unfortunately beautiful his naked torso was.

His smirks widened. "You asked me in the car earlier if I had a family." Finally, his pants were off too. "I could give you one right now."

I didn't even have the time to look at his body - both in embarrassment and denial - and I let out a loud cry of protest when San grabbed my legs again and pulled me towards him. I kicked to try and stop him from having a good grip, but he was too strong.

"Hey, stop! Get off of me!" I screamed when he got on top of me and pinned me down on my back again. He secured me by pinning my legs as well with his knees. "Stop!"

His hand covers my mouth and my screams drowned into a muffled cry instead. "Shut the fuck up," he hissed. My eyes widened in terror at his threatening tone.

His eyes were so dark, fierce, intense, and domineering and it was then that it sunk in that he really was going to have his way with me. I groaned when he bucked his hip onto my stomach. I panicked, I could tell that it was going to tear me into two.

"Get off me, you bastard!" I growled when San took his hand off my mouth.

He laughed that attractive laugh of his again, the dimples that made me like him popping out once more. "You don't listen well, huh? I told you to shut up."

"And I told you to leave me alone!" I snapped back. His eyes twinkle in amusement. "So both of us are bad at listening then!"

In an adrenaline rush, I spit on him, and my saliva landed directly on the corner of his mouth. He was surprised for a second before he covered it up with annoyance. "You're getting on my nerves," he chuckled without humour.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he stuck his tongue out and slowly, sensually, licked my spit for him to swallow. I feel a gush of wetness between my legs and my cheeks burn in embarrassment while I whine in denial.

He raised a brow, pleased. "Don't fight on this. Your body knows what it wants."

"Go to hell," I growled in refutation.

His eyes narrowed into slits. "What's that?" San spat out in anger.

His hand hastily grabs the front of my nightgown with such force that the straps both broke. I gasped and then groaned in pain when his hand grabbed my exposed breasts painfully.

"Please," I croaked, my voice strained. "Don't hurt me."

A startled cry escaped from my lips when he bit down on my hardened nipple and tears formed from my eyes. He looked up at me and his eyes softened when he saw the pitiful state I was in.

"Be still," mumbled apologetically. "I won't hurt you."

I exhaled in relief but that relief quickly washed off of me at San's next words.

"If you listen to what I tell you, I won't hurt you."

"Please, I can't do--ah!" I yelped when he bit my nipple again.

"I wasn't asking," he hissed. His tone left me no chance to argue with him.

I can feel the fear in my chest waiting to take over at San's threats. But I was a virgin! It's not that I was a prude or I thought I was better than anyone else, no man has held my interest enough and most of them were after my body more than me as a person.

I bit my bottom lip hard when San's mouth started gently kissing my chest and then his mouth closed around my nipple while he played with other.

"Wait," I whimpered when he started to gently suck, his tongue flicking out to lick them and then twirled it around his tongue. It was something new for me and I couldn't help but shake.

"Relax, doll," he murmured in between his sucks.

Tingles filled my whole body, and I felt something tickling down there. Pleasure radiated all over and body in ways I couldn't understand and I started to moan uncontrollably.

I looked down and saw San already looking up at me while he continued licking the sensitive bud. It was such an erotic sight and before I knew it, a wave of pleasure sent my body into shock and I began spasming against San's chest.

San held me in his arms and let go of my nipple with a small 'pop'. I buried my face onto his chest in shame - I had just orgasmed with my nipples, alone.

San gently laid me back and we stared at each other wide-eyed, both of us clearly shocked at what just happened. Surprisingly, San doesn't comment on it. He leans in and gives me a kiss on my forehead.

"Good girl," he murmured. He put my arms around his neck and he buried his head on my neck and rocked my back and forth. "That's my good girl, just relax, okay? I got you..."

The way he was looking at me with such tender eyes and there was an expression in it that I couldn't exactly pinpoint. His soothing voice filled my ears and I let myself get lost in San for a moment.

"My pretty girl, oh, my Y/N..."

"Everything about you is so beautiful to me."

"I adore you so much, you know?"

"You are so perfect, and you are mine."

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I broke away from a confused San and my tears started to fall from my face. This was so wrong, what was I doing? But he felt so good with me...

"Baby doll, please don't cry," he pleaded.

"I can't do this," I started to try and get up. "Please get away from me..."

He releases a sigh and holds me in place. "Listen to me," his voice held an edge to it. I turned my head rebelliously and gasped when he held my jaw tightly and forced me to look at him. "Listen," he growled, eyes glazed in unparalleled anger.

I was having a small panic attack. "I just need a moment---"

San slapped my already aching jaw with a force enough for me to get out of it, but not enough for me to bawl in pain. "Listen to me," he snapped. "Silence. Not a sound from you."

I nodded my head quickly, afraid. "If you resist, I will punish you," he threatened. "And you know how I'm going to do it?"

I held in a whimper, truly afraid since San had this crazed manic expression on his face that I've never, ever seen him have. "Well," he smirked. "Let's hope you don't find out."

He gets up and quickly drags me using my arms to straddle him. "Wrap your hands around me," he demanded.

I did as asked and he grabbed my hips to immobilize me. San looked up at me with such intensity and I can't help but look away. I felt exposed and humiliated and I couldn't help but let out a small moan when I felt his hardness twitch underneath me.

"What was that?" he mocked. "What did I tell you about making a sound, you whore?"

I breathed hard and heavy, my exposed breasts moving about, but I didn't answer him back, scared that my response would trigger him.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"P-Punish," I stuttered pathetically.

"Correct," San grinned and it resembled a rabid animal who was ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim. "Little sluts like you need to be dominated."

I was wide-eyed when he grabbed my hair and manually moved my head up and down. "That's right," he laughed sadistically. "Good girl."

San leaned in and put his lips against mine in a rough kiss. When I refused, he pulled the back of my hair again until I gasped in pain. His tongue plunged inside my mouth and I tried to turn but he painfully pulled my hair again as he moved away slightly.

"Stop it," he whispered against my lips. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He pushed my head and he kissed me again, this time, more gentle and more considerate. I tried to see what he was going to do if I moved, and true to my suspicions, I felt his hand tightening against my hair again.

Having no choice, I gave in to what he wanted. San groaned in my mouth and pressed his harder, playing with my tongue sensually as he massaged my tits. My skin began to feel warm and my heart began to beat faster and faster and I was pretty sure he felt it. Or was that his own heart beating with mine?

When San touched my cheek with frenzied motions, I hissed and I couldn't help but moan in protest. He pulled back and tenderly touched my face where a bruise was forming.

"What happened?" he asked softly. "Was it..?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, I-I mean, well, I barely felt the slap and you didn't even do it hard."

It was true. I don't mean to defend his actions, he's an asshole for that but even in a haze, I felt him repressing and it was only meant to break my panic attack.

"I'm sorry, doll, please tell me what happened," San murmured apologetically, his words somewhat loving.

I hesitated but the look in his eyes was so soft that I just had to. It was the gentle San that everyone knew him for when everyone would ask for his advice and wisdom. I bit my lip, remembering that there was a time where I almost went to him.

"Earlier in the car," I began muttering. "I didn't meet up with friends, I-I, uhm..."

"Go on," San assured me, tenderly rubbing my arms.

"I didn't meet up with my friends like I said I did," I revealed. "My ex called to try and get back with me. He got handsy when I-I said no."

His hands tighten on my arms and his eyes transform into a murderous glare. He pulls me into a hug and pulls away. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he cursed under his breath intensely.

"And you," he continued, putting my face in his hands. "You will never, ever interact with him ever again. You're going to tell me if he bothers you again, okay?"

I nodded apprehensively, unsure of what to say. "Good," San kissed my forehead. I bit back a cry of surprise when he laid me down on the bed and started to crawl his way down.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" I panicked when he lifted the other half of my nightgown and lifted my legs to rest on his shoulders.

"I'm going to make you forget about that scum," he declared like he was telling me the weather. "Until you only know me."

I was still confused as he hadn't taken his boxers off, that is, until I finally got a good look at him. He was handsome, the type that can bring you to your knees. His dark hair was disheveled and when my eyes traveled down to his chest, I wasn't surprised to see that he was fit and the muscles on his abdominal area were very prominent.

The arms he used to leave my legs up were massive and I can tell he spent a lot on the gym working them out. However, it was nothing compared to the tent he had on his boxers. I'm not one to usually comment on it, but I can tell he was big. It's super cliche and honestly, it made me cringe to even think about, but I've only heard of that size in the novels I read.

"You look so beautiful," he suddenly said. His stare was so intense and serious that I couldn't help but blush. "I mean it, Y/N. You're beautiful. I'm going to make you believe it."

Before I could say anything, I felt his fingers touch my slit. I bit my lip to stop the moan that threatened to pass my lips, but when San pressed on my clit, I had to let out a muffled mewl.

"Don't hold back on me now," he smirked, rubbing my nub gently at first. "I told you, you will forget everything but me."

My eyes widened when he licked his fingers and went back down there. The roughness of fingers added a new sensation I never thought I'd feel and it was bringing me such shame that I was even feeling this way.

"San, please," I mewled again when he added more pressure in his ministrations.

Suddenly, his fingers were gone and it was quickly replaced by his mouth. "San!" I screamed in surprise.

I felt him laugh and the vibration of it caused me to arch my back and accidentally rub myself in his mouth. San took advantage of this and dove his tongue between my folds, lapping at anything he could get his tongue on.

"Just like that, doll, " he spoke in between his licking and sucking.

I moaned loudly, my hands grabbing on the blankets in pleasure. He kissed my clit and gently suctioned on it, releasing it and doing it again and that tingling sensation from down there came back, but this one felt different; stronger.

"San, stop, it feels weird," I moaned and sighed, closing my eyes involuntarily and shaking a bit against San's mouth.

"Quiet," he murmured, ignoring my plea and continuing on.

I choked on my breath when I felt his finger slip inside my pussy while he still licked. It hurt a bit, but nothing crazy. He pushed deeper and farther, until he stopped unexpectedly and quickly got up to look at my face with the most shocked expression I've ever seen him have.

"You're a virgin," he reeled in disbelief. "You're a virgin?"

I looked at him wide-eyed, embarrassed. My breath was quicker and it made me breathless. "I am," I admitted.

"B-But how? You're so beautiful," he stammered, clearly still in shock.

"I-I've been waiting for the right person."

He closed my legs, leaned his forehead on my knees, and a deep groan that was similar to a suffering soldier sounded at the back of his throat. He laid there for a moment until he got up from the bed and paced around my room.

I was left laying down on the bed as I watched him go through something akin to a midlife crisis. My virginity was the reason why my ex left me and why nobody stayed with me. I wanted someone true, someone I was sure I wanted to be with and vice versa.

San briskly walked around, stopping to face palm himself, then stayed in his spot to raise his head in frustration. He collected himself before he marched towards me with a stormy expression.

He leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled away and walked off to where his clothes were and started putting them on.

His gaze was steely when he looked at me. "I'm leaving," he said, voice tight.

I sat up slowly as I watched him put his sweater last and then his jewelry, a little surprised at the turn of events. "You are?" I couldn't help but ask, slightly confused.

San nodded. "I am."

I wasn't complaining at all. This was a blessing in disguise. "I don't get it," I said as I covered my exposed chest with a blanket. "Why now?"

San exhaled a sharp breath, barely controlling himself. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and he opened them again, he looked so tortured.

"Y/N, I cannot touch you," he whispered. "I want you so fucking bad. I don't just want you. I need you."

I couldn't breath, my chest was so tight. He exhaled a sharp breath again. "I won't be able to stop myself right now if I don't leave. I want to fuck you so bad, stick my dick in you and fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."

"But not like this," he shook his head. "I don't want your first to be like this. I don't want to hurt you."

I was so stunned at his admission. "So we're...done here?" I asked softly, unsure of what was even happening.

"Yes. We are."

"What now, then? What's going to happen after this?"

San paused. "I don't know. I'll live my life, and you'll go back to ignoring me."

"Alright," I whispered. I was trembling as I tried to mend the straps of my nightgown enough for me to wear it temporarily so I wasn't too exposed in front of San. Not that it mattered, he's seen everything.

I stood up from my bed and San headed through the door to leave when he suddenly paused. He turned around and faced me hesitantly. "Have a good night," he said.

I nodded and turned to look at the damaged window where he came through earlier to break in my room. "How am I supposed to fix this?" I lamented.

He turned and marched towards the window and inspected it closely. I stared at the way he furrowed and unfurrowed his brows in concentration.

He stared me down and back at the window and he definitely got snappy. "I'll pay somebody to fix it tomorrow," he announced tensely.

"Why are you mad?" I asked.

He raised a brow. "I'm not," he denied.

I frowned but I let it go. "There's going to be a storm tomorrow," I sighed. "Nobody in their right mind will come down tomorrow."

"Can you call your parents right now?" San asked gruffly.

I shook my head. "They live abroad."

His brows raise in surprise and curiosity but he doesn't dwell on it. "Friends?"

"I didn't lie when I said they lived in the next city."

He ran his fingers on his hair with annoyance, his tongue poking his cheek with a scowl. "Doll, you can't stay here."

I smiled without humour in irony. I wanted to tell him that technically, this problem I'm having right now is his fault but I don't. I'm too tired to argue.

I heard him sigh. "Get dressed," he said. "I have tools in my apartment that we can both grab so I can do it today, myself."

"Okay," I murmured.

San nodded. "I'll wait outside."

When I was done, I saw San leaning towards my doorway and I had to suppress staring at him. He looked good, but he looked aggravated when he saw me, and he reached down for my hand and he began walking us through the complex.

I breathlessly tried to keep up with him. This is going to be the first time I'm seeing where San's apartment is. His hand felt warm in mine and without pausing, he walked both of us to the furthest part of the complex.

"No wonder we barely saw each other," I couldn't help but state. "You live on the other side."

He didn't reply. He took one glance at me and continued walking. I followed him obediently without question.

I had an idea where he was leading me. The complex was split into three parts - the regular kind, the modernized kind, and the luxurious kind. I lived on the second one, and true to my suspicions, San lived on the third kind.

"You live here?" I asked in awe.

I was so fascinated with this area and the fact that San was known to everybody. People here barely interact with anybody, that would mean that San would go out of his way to go join and seek out the people in the regular part.

I was so taken aback by my own thoughts that I didn't realize that we were by his door.

"Yes, almost two years now," he replied flatly. "After you."

Unsurprisingly, the interior looked grand and deluxe, albeit a little empty. It made sense, San seemed like a minimalist person and it showed both in how he dressed and designed his home.

He tilted his head towards a door at the end of the hallway. "Tools should be over there," he said, not looking me in the eye. "Let's go."

It was obvious that this was his bedroom when we both went in. The room was large, there was a king sized bed in the middle of it and a couple of pictures hung all over the area. I went and inspected them closely and saw that he was with a couple of people.

"Family?" I asked.

He hummed in response while he took his suit off and hung them somewhere. "Sort of. They're lifelong friends."

He stepped towards the bedroom door, closed it slowly, and turned the lock before he faced me. I was confused, when he looked at me, his eyes were the darkest I have ever seen.

"Get on the bed," he commanded. "I'm going to fuck you."

I didn't fully understand what he said. I thought I heard him wrong, but he was dead serious. "W-What?"

His eyes never left me as he stalked towards me like a predator. "I said," his tone was grim. "Get on the bed."

My eyes widened and the wind was knocked out of my chest. "B-But you said you weren't going to touch me," I whimpered.

"I know what I said," he snapped, his jaw clenching hard. "I'm taking it back."

San stepped forward and stopped a couple of feet away from me. I stared at him wary and not knowing what to do. I'm sure my eyes held terror. "Don't do this," I pleaded.

I yelped when San pushed me on the bed. He stood by it and watched me scramble to get up. I was truly frightened at the person in front of me. He leaned over and placed his hands on the bed while he stared at me.

"You don't get it do you?" San grimaced. "There are no tools. At least, not in my bedroom."

My eyes widened in realization. His eyes narrowed in veiled anger as he continued. "Why would you come here with me? I broke into your apartment and almost took you against your will! Do I look like the safest person to be with right now?"

My chest fell and ragged breaths escaped me, but he wasn't done yet. "Don't you think with your brain?" San hissed. "You are at my mercy right now. If I want to take you, no one would know."

"Are you going to...?" I whispered.

His scowl deepened. "Yes."

It all happened too fast and I had no time to dispute him. My shirt and pants were off in less than a minute and he slammed me against the bed.

"San, wait---"

I gasped when he slid a finger inside me quickly and I was unable to stop the small whimper of pleasure I felt. That felt a little too good. I didn't even notice that his clothes were gone too, and I couldn't help but look down.

My suspicions were unfortunately right - he was not small. And he was hard. I may be a virgin, but of course I knew what dicks looked like. It was very imposing, it made my heart beat with hesitation and a little fear.

I tensed when he got on top of me and I felt him kiss my forehead softly. "I'm sorry," I heard him whisper.

I subconsciously pressed my fingers on his shoulder, trying hard not to look up at him or even inhale. The scent of him, alone, was driving me mad. I felt him hot and hard, pressing against my hole, and he thrust in bit by bit.

"Oh God, San, I can't," I cried out. The pain was so intense that it brought hot tears to my eyes. I heard him groan when I clawed his back.

"I'm sorry, I'll be careful," San cooed as he gave me tiny, little kisses here and there.

A strangled cry was torn from me when I felt him move again. His pleasure filled moans hit my ears, the vibrations from his chest sending tingles to my spine. "San..."

"Just a bit more, baby," he whispered. "You can take it, I know you can..."

He made small, gentle thrusts and I couldn't help but applaud the patience he had for this. I can feel how he was dying to just thrust in one go. I groaned again, fully wrapping my arms around his neck, in pain. I knew it was painful for the first time, but this pain was a bit too much.

"Fuck," he hissed, looking down at me with lust in his eyes. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

I nodded and he took it as his signal to push in a little more. When he completely bottomed out, I couldn't help but moan loudly. The pain felt like the good kind.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "Your cunt was made for me."

He pressed a hot kiss on my shoulder. The dirty talk was making me dizzy and I felt warm tingles spread all over my skin. San stayed inside me, unmoving, for a while and we decided I've warmed up enough, he began thrusting.

"San, it hurts," I yelped in slight pain. If I was being honest, it felt unbelievably good.

"Just take it for now, baby, it's going to feel better soon, I promise," he pecked my lips before he buried head on my shoulders.

And he was right. I swallowed a moan when San began to pick up the pace a bit. I didn't realize that I was moving my hips to his pace until I heard San whisper the dirtiest things in my ear.

"Y/N, fuck, Y/N, Y/N," San moaned my name like a prayer with each vicious thrust of his hips. "Doll, please tell me I can go faster than this, please."

I moaned in response, not being able to formulate a single word. San goes from fully gentle to straight up rearranging my insides. "San, San, t-too fast!"

Each thrust of his cock sent shockwaves through my body and it didn't take too long for my laboured breathing to turn into wanton moans with the way he went in and out with his quick rhythm. I felt him twitching, pulsating, inside of me and I squeezed.

"Don't do that, baby," San groaned. "God, you feel so fucking good…”

He pushed onto me and took my mouth in a stormy, demanding kiss. I felt his hand reaching from my hip to my front and his fingers pressed up to my clit.

"You like this, doll?" San asked tentatively.

I nodded my head and kissed his neck. "I do, don't stop."

His fingers stroke me, his thrusts not slowing down. Tears from the slight pain and pleasure combined fell from my eyes and his speed built back up, slamming into me so hard, I screamed loudly over and over again.

"Just like, Y/N, come, yes, come for me," San bit my shoulder and it was over.

It was my first orgasm from fucking and my body spasmed against him so hard, San had to hold me down.

"Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so fucking good," San's muffled moans felt intense against my skin. "You're mine, okay?"

"S-San, oh, San---"

I screamed when he grabbed my hair and bit my ear. "Say it," he growled. "Say you're fucking mine."

"San---"

"Say it, goddamn it, fucking say it!"

His thrusts got more brutal, ferocious, more ruthless. "Okay, okay!" I moaned. "I'm all yours!"

"Fuck," he got out and thrusted back in roughly. I saw stars then and there. "You're mine, you're mine, fuck.”

His thrust went even faster than before, the bed was squeaking very loud, and the slapping of skin against skin more obscene than before. It was agonizing as I was still sensitive and I felt another wave of pleasure come, but this time, there was no pain.

"S-San, f-fuck, I-I can't---"

"I want my cum in you," he abruptly cut off, slamming into me so hard I was afraid I would bruise just from his thrusts alone. "God, I want my fucking cum in you."

"Please," I cried. "I-I can't do this anymore---"

He shushed me gently, slowing his thrusts down, but it was worse because he was doing long, deep thrusts instead. "One more, baby," he murmured. "Give me one more and I'll stop."

He kissed me hard. "I'm going to fucking pump you full of cum, doll, I'm going to breed the fuck out of you, fuck, this body deserves to be filled up..."

His words did something to me and I just came without warning. I screamed, my body shaking, shuddering beneath him. I felt warm liquid gush inside me and San's deep groans hit my ears and it felt more intense than the last.

"Good girl," San gave me a hot kiss on my neck and I shuddered.

I moaned when he pulled out, though it stung a bit. I felt his fingers dip back in there and when he put it up, we both groaned at the sight of his cum glistening and stringy against the light.

"Open up," he murmured. I hesitated but did as told anyway.

He put his cum-stained fingers inside my mouth and I grimaced at the salty, bitter taste. "I don't like it," I complained.

San laughed out loud and crashed on top of me, exhausted. I almost fell asleep when I felt him get up and leave the room. It hit me of what I have just done, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I groaned in protest when I felt something cold and wet down there and I opened my eyes to see it was San concentrating on cleaning me up like he was getting paid to do it with a damp towel gently and slowly.

"Thanks," I murmured. "I...should get going."

He stares at me, all traces of roughness, maliciousness, and sociopathy gone on his face. He looked like the San I'd come to admire from afar before all of this happened.

He titled his head. "Why?"

I frowned. "Isn't this customary? I'm not sure if you want me to stay. People will see, it's already morning."

"Let them see," he shrugged. "Of course I want you to stay. Plus, it's not like it's much of a secret, anyway."

That piqued my curiosity and all traces of sleep went away. "What do you mean?"

He finished cleaning me up, discarded the towel in the nearest bin, and tucked my legs back in the softest, most comfortable blanket I've ever laid down on. It probably cost more than my whole bed set.

I blushed when he smiled at me. It wasn't a fake or imposing one - it was genuine. "I'll be right back, okay? Then we'll talk."

True to his words, he went back, but this time, he had a glass full of water and two shirts. He guided me up to sit down and brought the glass to my mouth, the only thing I had to do was make an effort to swallow. I had to suppress a satisfied moan when the water hit the back of my throat. All the screaming before and after sex...

"Arms up," he coaxed. I was confused but did so anyway. He put what I assume was his shirt on me, and then put the other shirt on his own body.

I let him do what he wanted, the resistance felt so tiring to me. This was the man that violated me in every way possible, yet why do I feel this pull towards him?

I already knew the answer - there was always something there. Now that he had taken my virginity, the pull has increased tenfold, and the way he was so sweet to me was a mystery on its own.

"So, how many?" I asked when he laid down next to me and put my head against his chest.

"How many what?" San asked.

"You know," I gestured between the two of us. "How many girls have you done this to?"

I was referring to the break in. He frowned and shook his head. "I am deeply offended, but I understand so I can't be mad. The answer is zero."

"You expect me to believe that?" I deadpanned. "You were an expert in being a criminal."

"It's not that," he sighed. "I can't count the times I stayed awake in this very bed and pretended you were mine. That was enough practice on its own."

He kissed the top of my head. "And I told you," he continued. "It's not a secret."

"What do you mean, San?"

"I wasn't subtle about it, everyone literally knew I liked you," he chuckled. "No offense doll, but you're dense as fuck."

"Funny," I muttered, unimpressed.

San laughed. "No, seriously. I did everything to try and get your attention, I sent flowers to your doorstep every Friday, for God's sake."

My eyes widen and I look up at him. "That...was you?"

"Who did you think it was?"

I paused, hesitant, remembering his words earlier. "M-My ex..."

It was the reason why I even met up with him in the first place. I thought he was trying to win me back using his cheap ways. San stared at me, and I could see the anger slowly rising in his eyes, but alas, in the end he ignored it, thankfully.

"Hmm," he hummed. "If he tries something, tell me. I'm not just saying this just because of what happened between us, but as a human being concerned for another's well-being. What he did was wrong."

I nodded. That seemed fair for now. I tried to suppress the blush that was threatening to flare my cheeks up. His words make it difficult for me to hate him, for now.

"Having said that," he cleared his throat. "I tried to chauffeur you too, at the bus station."

"And I meant it when I said I didn't want to impose," I mumbled.

"The point is, anyone with two eyes can see it, doll. I always seeked you out of everyone," he sighed.

He cupped my face in his hands and looked straight into my eye. "I know you have feelings for me, and it's driving me crazy that you haven't realized it yet. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"But what you did was wrong," I frowned, putting my small hands on his to push him away so he wouldn't see how distraught I was because he was telling the truth. "Just because I'm not putting up a fight, doesn't mean I'm happy. Why did you do it?"

San looked so crestfallen and I hesitated for a bit. "I...don't know," he admitted. "I'm so, so sorry, doll. Please don't push me away."

"You don't even know anything about me besides the basics" I sighed.

Held my hand tenderly. "Then let's try now," he smiled tightly, hopefully. "You said your parents were abroad, where?"

I stared at him, giving in eventually. "Yes. In London," I replied tentatively. It was a lie, but he won't know.

"Ah. Migrants?"

"No, I laughed a bit. "I was actually born there."

"So you have that accent?" San teased.

"Maybe, you tell me," I said with the said accent.

I reveled in his surprised face. "So why are you here, then?" San asked, genuinely interested.

"We went here for a vacation but I fell in love being here and yeah, I stayed," I chuckled. "It's probably why I caught your eye, because I moved differently."

San shook his head at me. "No," he said. "You would've caught my eye, regardless, United Kingdom or not."

He hesitated, pausing. "I know you're lying."

It was my turn to be surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Why you're here," he said. I was about to say something when he cut me off. "It's okay, you can tell me when you're ready."

I smiled at him. "Maybe one day."

"I'm just a little concerned about the age gap for now," he confessed. "And I know you are too."

"It's not that," I clarified. "Someone your age would prefer looking for someone your age, not someone ten years younger."

"Does it bother you?" San raised a brow.

"No, not in the slightest," I replied truthfully.

For the first time after we were done, San gave me a genuine smile. It was the type that reached his eyes; the type that reached a part of my heart I've been denying.

The next day, I woke up alone in San's bed on what seemed to be in the middle of the afternoon.

I couldn't suppress a hiss when I sat up. Besides my pussy, my entire body felt sore. I'm not surprised, we literally went straight into it. It made me realize that I was so out of shape and I needed to catch up.

When I felt the side of the bed, it was still relatively warm. San must've gotten up half an hour before me.

Which wasn't a bad thing. Now that I'm alone in my thoughts, I can focus on thinking about what to do from here not just for me and San, but for myself without him. I couldn't deny that the sex was mind blowing, but I had basically forfeited any real chance I had to erase myself from San's life and vice versa.

Giving in was a no-brainer. No matter how hard I tried, I knew all my efforts would have been proven futile in the grand scheme of things. I screwed myself up, however. And now, I want more.

After some more thinking, I decided to get up and talk to San. I put back on my underwear but I didn't bother wearing some pants, and San's shirt was large anyway. I just have to be careful not to bend over.

I was instantly hit with the smell of food when I got close to the kitchen, after much exploring, and my stomach began to rumble uncontrollably.

San was sitting by the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee. He typed away on his laptop with furrowed brows. I watched the man I spent the night with - he wore a black shirt paired with black jeans yet he still managed to look good.

My heart palpitated when I realized he was wearing a pair of glasses. I've never seen him wear glasses before. He looked sophisticated, more chic, more attractive.

"Working?" I said out loud when he still didn't notice me.

San finally lifted his head up to look at me and his eyes slightly widen. I suddenly felt self-conscious when he started slowly taking in body slowly from head to toe until his eyes reached my face. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

"Morning, well, afternoon," he snapped out of his trance. "Come sit. I ordered some food for us."

"This is a lot," I murmured when I sat down and tried to pick what I was going to eat. "Why did you order this much?"

"I didn't know what you wanted," he shrugged. "And I didn't want to wake you up to ask, better safe than sorry. Coffee?"

I nodded awkwardly. It was harder to be normal around him than I thought. San seemingly wasn't affected at all - he was still the confident, undaunting, self-assured, and bold man I knew who I was always careful with even before all of this.

He sat back down on his chair. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes."

"That's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I cringed at how awkward I was acting. Not that I wasn't before, but I was more so now that we've far more things that normal acquaintances do. San smirked widely at my predicament, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me.

"I'm leaving in an hour," he said. "Something came up at work, but I'll be back before sunset."

He looked at me to gauge my reaction. "I would like it if you were still here when I come back, I'll take you out to dinner. If not, I understand."

I had to stop the urge to smirk, myself. Wasn't dinner supposed to come first before the sex? This is going nowhere, I thought. It's either I talk to him now or I won't do it all. It was now or never.

"Uh, San," I cleared my throat. He looked at me expectantly and I almost backed out. "Can I talk to you?"

All the humour and mirth disappeared from his face and he became so rigid and tense right before my very eyes as if knew what I was going to say. In hindsight, we both knew he did.

"Okay," he mumbled.

I took a deep breath and laid it all out on him. "You don't need me to tell you again that taking me against my will whether or not we had sex was wrong."

San listened attentively. "You hurt my feelings," I croaked, my appetite suddenly going down. "You violated me, you couldn't approach me like a normal person? You could have knocked on my door."

Tears started to fall from my eyes but San looked twice as hurt as I did, if that was even possible. "Doll, please," he pleaded, reaching out to hold my hand but I didn't let him. He looked even more hurt. "I'm sorry, please don't say you're going to leave--"

"San, 'sorry' isn't going to cut it," I interjected rather harshly. "They way you went about this was so, so wrong. What were you even thinking?"

He didn't say anything for a while. "I don't know."

I saw red. "You don't know?" I scoffed. "What do you know?! Which one is the real San?"

"I know that my feelings for you are very, very strong," he answered without any hint of deception in his eyes. "You know who I am, Y/N."

"I wouldn't say that, you genuinely scared me last night."

He sighed before burying his face in his hands and groaning softly in frustration. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, my doll, I'm so, so sorry. I truly am. I don't want to lose you, not like this."

When he looked up at me again, I held back a gasp of surprise when I saw his eyes glistening with tears. "I was wrong, I know I'm a piece of shit," he sniffled. "I'm sorry for scaring you, you were right, I was sick in the head. I don't know why I did what I did, and I have absolutely no excuses for it."

I felt limp and San took that opportunity to hold my hand in his and repeatedly kissed it and my heart ached. I felt lighter though, I know the apology was shit compared to what I went through, but the acknowledgement was much appreciated on my side.

"I'll make it up to you, okay?" San guaranteed. "You said you were waiting for the right person?"

He gave my hand another hot kiss. "I'm going to prove I'm the right person for you, Y/N, I promise you," he assured with desperation. "Even if it takes a lifetime, please baby, just one chance..."

Call me a bitch, but I intended to make him stew a little bit.

"One chance, San, just one," I whispered. "If you screw up, I'm going back to London."

I won't go back to London though, that was the last place I'd go, but it was just a just-in-case type of a thing if he does screw up.

San buried his face in my hand in an attempt to cover the silent cry he was pouring out of his system. "Thank you," he whispered. "Can I hug you?"

I shook my head firmly. "No," I denied. "You don't deserve anything."

San pouted, and damn it, it was cute. "Okay."

He wasn't the only one screwed anyway - I may honestly be more screwed than him. I've liked him for so long but I was always afraid that he wouldn't look at me. When he found out I was a virgin and he stopped, I fell for him a bit more. If only he didn't fuck me afterwards.

The fault wasn't his own though. I didn't push him away. For now, it was better this way so I can gauge his sincerity, especially about why I wasn't in London in the first place.

A couple of months passed since that fateful night, and true to his words, San did everything and anything possible to get into my good side.

We were the talk of the whole complex. San wasn't exactly the most private person when he was trying to show his affection. It was uncomfortable since the whole complex seemed to cheer when they found out San was trying to woo me, but I slowly got used to it.

Sometimes I would even look forward to it. I do feel a little bad sometimes because maybe I was power-tripping a little bit but the tiniest complaint from me and San would get into action.

"How was your meeting?" I asked when he entered my apartment.

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. "Terrible," he groaned. "Bastards are trying to haggle from us with at least 30% of the original price. It's ridiculous."

I never denied him of time either. I knew I liked him so it wasn't difficult at all for me, so we would hang out at each other's places, though more him in mine than vice versa.

We were in an odd spot, we were technically together but not at the same time because we never got intimate or held hands or kissed. Not ever since that night.

"So what did you do?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Oh. I said yes."

I raised a brow in surprise. "You did? That's a huge percentage, San. "

"Don't worry," he brushed off with a smirk. "You know me, doll, I always have to get something in return. Wait here."

He went outside again and he was gone for approximately half an hour before he came back again, this time, he was carrying a box.

"What's that?" I asked out of curiosity when he set it down at the dining table.

"It's for you, my doll," he smiled. "Open it."

I hesitated, staring at him apprehensively, to which he laughed. "Seriously," San insisted. "You'll like it, I promise, there's no bugs in there or something."

I picked it up and turned it slightly. It was a lot heavier than I thought. I raised my eye to San, and he had this look that was a mixture of pride and fear of rejection. Carefully, I lifted the covers of the box and was surprised at what I saw.

"Yubari King!" I exclaimed in genuine surprise. I looked up at San and he beamed ear to ear at my expression. "San? How?"

"That 30% I was talking about earlier, I exchanged it for these babies," he carefully tapped the expensive melon. "Our client had Japanese connections, you'll get more of these soon."

When San asked if he could get me something, I mentioned these in passing because I know they were extremely difficult to find in Korea and are on the expensive side as well.

"Y-You didn't have to," I said, feeling extra guilty.

"I told you," he smiled, grabbing my hand to kiss me. "I meant it when I said I'll do anything for you."

"Thank you, San, I really appreciate it," I murmured, giving him a small hug. "You're going overboard, I'm telling you."

"I'm really not," he teased. "How about you slice that for us? I kinda wanna try it."

And that I did. The moment I bit into it, I couldn't help but moan out in satisfaction. It was so crunchy, the middle of it the sweetest I have ever tried, and it really put it into perspective why these were very expensive.

"Holy fuck," San exclaimed. "I can't believe this actually tastes good."

"What were you expecting anyway?" I teased.

"I was hoping they'd taste like shit so I couldn't justify the price," he rolled his eyes playfully.

"So thanks to you, we're eating good shit," I chuckled.

"Yeah?" San smiled. "Would it be possible to get a kiss, at least?"

I froze, my arms and legs becoming a bit rigid. San notices and visibly panics. "No, I'm sorry--"

"We agreed that I was going to do this on my own time?" I was frowning, trying very hard to keep my voice leveled, but I was shaking a bit. I put the last slice of the melon and chewed on it rather roughly.

"You're right, baby---"

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

San deflated, looking visibly upset. I felt so bad, but I can't help the way I felt. "Sorry," he whispered.

This wouldn't be the first time I had snapped at him. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I wasn't ready for any sort of intimacy with him even though I did want to give him a chance. Maybe it was the small trauma he inflicted.

Deep down, I knew it was because I was scared that once I let him in, he would stop because maybe he only wanted me for the thrill I gave him and my body.

"I'm going to take a nap," I sighed as I got up from the couch and tried to head to my room.

"Ba--Y/N, please, please, I didn't mean to make you mad," San pleaded. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"San, I don't know, go pick some four-leaf clovers, or something," I spat, finally closing the door behind me.

When I laid down on my bed, I felt a bit lonely and cold. Today, San was supposed to sleep here. Yeah, for people not dating, we would sleep in the same bed. It was my sick way of dealing with my bad memories of him; so I can replace them with good ones.

At the far corner of my room, my eyes landed on the bouquet of the most beautiful jasmines I have been taking care of for weeks now. My eyes teared up, San gave them to me and I was floored. They were very rare where we lived.

I hit an all time low depressive state today. It had been two weeks since San and I started trying for each other and a week since I last saw even his shadow.

Oh, I was pissed alright.

I sighed, I suppose I was right in not giving him a full chance because where was he? He literally disappeared, it was infuriating. It was one thing if he talked to me before and after, but no, absolutely nothing.

But behind all that anger, was sadness. I thought we were going to have something real despite the horrible start we had.

I sighed deeply and was about to go to my room and try to sleep everything out, but my doorbell suddenly rang. I was confused, I wasn't expecting anyone.

My eyes widened. Unless it was my parents. I got nervous, I wasn't ready to face them yet after running away.

I took a deep breath and opened the door, only to be face to face with someone I thought I'd never see again.

"San?"

He thrusted a bouquet of flowers in my hand. "Hi," he whispered.

"What the hell, Choi San?" I gritted my teeth. "You disappeared for a week without telling me where you were! I thought you left for good!"

"I'm sorry, doll, I really am," he frowned. "I didn't have service in Virginia."

"Virginia?" I raised my brow in genuine surprise. "What on God's green Earth were do you doing there?"

He smiled widely, looking proud of himself. "I bought you your favourite flowers."

"What are you talking about? Those are---oh my God," I gasped audibly when I took a good look at the bouquet.

They were blue jasmines, a very uncommon species of flowers mostly found in the United States. My eyes started to tear up. "San," my lips quivered.

"I'm sorry I took so long, but you deserve the best," he assured, his smile growing bigger. "I told you I'd do anything for you."

I woke up all of a sudden, the pitter-patter of the rain hitting my windowsill loudly interrupting my nap. Suddenly, my mind went to San immediately.

I went out of my room to check if he was still here. I felt horrible for snapping at him and I intended to apologize. I was confused when I didn't see him because his jacket and phone were both still here.

"San?" I called out of nowhere while I tried to look at every nook and cranny in my room, but he was nowhere to be found.

I decided to go in my small backyard, knowing San wouldn't be there anyway, but my feet took me to my destination in my half asleep state.

I was about to leave after looking around, but my head quickly whipped back around to do a double-take. My jaw dropped instantly, I was wrong, San was here.

"Oh God," I whispered, horrified.

There he was, the big and strong man kneeling down the soaked grass searching for something in a way so concentrated, you would think he was looking for gold underneath the soil.

He was looking for a four-leaf clover. What have I done?

Without thinking, I quickly ran towards him in the pouring rain, not caring if I wasn't wearing any slippers or carrying an umbrella, I just wanted to get him out of there.

"San, you idiot!" I screamed in frustration, quickly kneeling beside him to try and get him up. "Stop it!"

He was startled at first. "Doll, you're going to get sick," he frowned. "Go inside, I'm sorry I can't find any---"

"Forget it, I didn't mean it like that, please," I begged in exasperation. "I don't want you to get sick!"

We both stood in the middle of the grassy yard, not caring if the rain hit us. "You care about me?" San asked quietly.

"Of course I care about you!" I exclaimed, stomping my feet on the ground as if it would help me explain my thoughts. "I care about you a lot, you dummy."

He revealed a dimpled smile - a smile that was only reserved for me. "I'm glad," he spoke, grabbing me by the arm, then the head, and then leaned in to give me a kiss.

I kissed him back with equal desperation. It was everything I needed right now and the sparks that traveled through our bodies were intensifying the unspoken feelings between the two of us. Yeah, intense would be the word I'd use.

Before we both knew it, our clothes were gone and we were a mess trying to have each other on my bed, not caring if we were both wet from the rain. It might sound ridiculous, but there was no other way to describe what we were doing but making love.

"This is something you want, right?" San asked. "You'll have me, and you're going to want me to have you."

"More than anything in the world," I replied.

"Y/N, I mean it," he kissed my lips. "I want all of you, not just your body."

"Show me," I whispered.

All our pretense and doubt went out and the world melted away into nothing. Everything was raw and intense, every breath fast and both our hearts were finally becoming into one. This was only our second time being this intimate, and maybe I was delusional, but this one felt better than the first. Maybe because I had feelings for San this time. Everything happened as quickly as it started.

"I won't let you down," San murmured, hugging me and giving me a tender kiss on my forehead once everything was said and done. "My feelings for you are deep."

"As mine are," I tilted my head to meet his lips. "Just don't break through my window again."

San laughed loudly. "I won't," he turned to the window he fixed up quite well. "On one condition."

"The audacity," I playfully rolled my eyes. "What is it?"

"Be my girlfriend?"

I frowned. "I thought that was a given?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "I wanted to ask anyway. Is that a yes?"

I nodded and was about to say something witty to him, when my phone rang loudly in the background. Without thinking nor looking at the screen, I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, Y/N, it's about time you answered," my dad's irritated voice sounded from the phone.

I yelped in surprise and stared at a curious San. "Ah, D-Dad, can I c-call you back in a minute or two?"

I hung up before my dad could even say no. I hit my forehead frustratedly with my fist while mentally how dumb I was.

"Doll? Is everything okay?" San asked, worried. "Why'd you hang up? This wouldn't be the first time either."

I peered at him cautiously. "You noticed, huh?"

"Is it related to why you don't want to go back to London?"

"Yes," I sighed. "I'll explain later, let's get dressed first."

I dressed hurriedly because knowing my father, he would call back if I was even a second or two late from the promised time. If San and I were going to be together, he needs to know why I'm here. It's just a shame that he had to find out this way.

"It's okay, doll, I'm here if anything," San assured while the phone rang. "Oh, he picked up."

I panicked a bit and positioned the front camera to my face and out of San's. "Dad!"

“I'm disappointed that my only daughter doesn't want to talk to me," my dad's face held a little sadness, but nothing crazy. "Mingi and mom say hi."

"Who's Mingi?" San hissed. He winced a bit when I kicked him on the leg.

"I'm sure my brother," I glared pointedly at San. "And mum is fine."

My dad rolled his eyes dramatically. I guess that's where I got

my bratty attitude from. "They'd be better if you came back home," he sighed dejectedly. "Next time you don't answer your phone, I'm cutting off your allowance."

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Y/N, I'm getting old," he began to say, and I got nervous because I knew what he was about to say next. "If you could just give my friend's son a chance, you might make a connection with him."

San's gaze went from curious to immediately pissed. He gave me a flat look of annoyance. "Don't say a word," I mouthed silently at him.

"Dad, you know I want to be with someone I truly liked," I sighed exhaustedly. "And I want the relationship to be natural, not because we were matchmarked with one another."

"I didn't tell you to marry him on the spot, sweetie," he said with a frown. "I'm not going to force you, but all I ask is an initial meet up and see where it goes from there."

When I didn't answer, my dad continued his tirade. "And what do you do, you rebellious child? You run away when you know we can't reach you!"

I glanced at San with a tight smile and a mutual understanding passed between us. Now that the truth was out, San looked weary and I got extremely nervous.

"I've met him plenty of times, he's a great guy, Y/N. Very polite, intelligent, and easy on the eyes too."

"I'm sure he is, dad," I chuckled nervously when San glared hard at the phone. He glared at it so hard I'm surprised laser beams haven't shot out from his eyes yet.

"If only you gave him a chance," my dad hummed thoughtfully. "He's a bit older than you are, but I'm sure you'll be in good hands."

"You know I'm not into older men," I mumbled under my breath. San had the gall to look extremely offended.

I muted myself really quickly and lifted my phone up so my dad couldn't see my annoyed face. "I'm just making excuses, don't give that look," I hissed at San. He just rolled his eyes like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"He's not that old," another voice said from the background who wasn't my father. He must be out with his friends somewhere.

San raised a tentative brow and slowly sat up, but I ignored him. He can stew for all I care. It's cute that he's jealous but this wasn't the right time, my dad might ask me to separate with San and I wasn't ready to get heartbroken yet, especially since we just made up.

"Ah, that's my friend, Cheol," my dad said. "Actually, it's his son that we were hoping to pair you up with---"

"Give me that shit, I can't take this anymore," San hissed and roughly grabbed the phone from my hands. I was about to protest loudly but when he gave me that especially terrifying glare of his, I sat back down.

"Please don't say anything stupid," I pleaded.

He raised a brow and rolled his eyes. He's really pissed, oh my. He cleared his throat and positioned the front camera properly towards his face. My dad must be so confused right now.

"Sir," San started with the most polite, but firm voice I've ever heard him speak. Spoken like a true business. "I'm your daughter's boyfriend and with all due respect, I really like---dad?"

I was so startled at San's voice but apparently so was he. It was like he saw a ghost with how pale and how wide his eyes have become.

"San? San! Is that you?! Give me that real quick, Hyun Sok..."

I swiftly sat beside San so we were both in the camera. I was so surprised I couldn't even say a word. We heard quick shuffles from the other line and another man that looked just like San, but older, also had this shocked expression.

"That was your dad?" San looked at me.

"That was your dad?" I shot back.

"What are you doing in London, dad?" San managed to say despite the shock.

"Never mind me, son, what are you doing there?" his dad queried. I saw my dad shuffle in the camera and if it wasn't for the situation, I would have laughed at how priceless his shocked expression was.

"I knew that voice sounded familiar," San grumbled.

"Well, since it came to this," San sighed. He held my hand and brought it up to the camera for both our fathers to see. "Dad, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Doll, this is my father, Choi Jongcheol."

"Y/N? Is this true?" my dad inquired. I nodded in confirmation, afraid of his reaction, but instead me and San had the surprise of the lifetime when they started laughing loudly and chaotically.

"I gotta hand it to your son, Cheol, he sure gets the gold, know what I'm saying?"

"I taught him no less than that! Shit Sok, this was even better than we were hoping for!”

"Didn't even need to set them up for a dinner date, my God."

"Definitely went straight to dessert."

"Aye!"

"Okay," I spoke slowly and awkwardly. "Dad, what's going on?"

"Your boyfriend," he chuckled. "That's who I wanted you to meet a couple of years back!"

I was surprised, and so was San, with the new information. Now that I think about it, everything fit. The timeline of when San moved here, especially, and one time he did mention his father trying to set him up with someone but he also denied the offer.

"I thought you didn't want someone older?" my dad raised a brow mischievously.

"Some things change," I shrugged, trying hard to hide my blushing cheeks.

"How did you two meet?" Jongcheol asked curiously.

"You don't wanna know," San chuckled nervously. I blushed harder when he kissed my cheek in front of both our dads and both of them had this shit-eating grin on their faces.

"Well, we don't want to hold you guys," my dad said awkwardly and not making eye contact. I was confused until he said, "Your hair is messy, and San's shirt is on backwards."

I groaned in embarrassment and covered my face as I ducked away from the screen in order to save face. San chuckled softly at my demise.

"Well, be careful you two," San's dad teased and I heard my dad laughing in the background. "Use protection, Choi San, but not too much. We don't mind grandkids soon---"

"Dad! Ugh, so embarrassing!" San screamed and hung up.

He tossed the phone away somewhere on the bed as if it was the plague, itself. We both burst out laughing at the irony of the situation for ten minutes straight.

"Had I known it was you," I chuckled as I laid my head on his shoulder. "I'd have agreed immediately."

"We both didn't know, it's okay," San hummed. "We both ended up together anyway, didn't we?"

"True. The irony of it all, I can't believe this," I smiled. "Still, we could have met sooner."

"Sooner than that," he sighed. "Your brother has been trying to invite me to your house back then too. I just always said no because we were both busy trying to start the company."

I was startled. "You know my brother?"

I hadn't seen my brother, Mingi, for a while now. He was the reason why I was successful in moving here, though I never told him why. And my parents never told him either because I knew they didn't want to stress him out for his---

The realization hit me. Mingi was also ten years older than me, I was a happy accident, you see, and he was also trying to start a company with his friends here!

"Yes," San confirmed. "He's one of my best friends, didn't you see the photo by the doorway?"

I knew the photo he was referring to. It was the one that hung in his room, one of the very few decorations he had, that I was looking at where I thought it was his family at first and he said they were lifelong friends.

"I-I don't remember what it looked like," I admitted. San whipped out his phone and showed me the picture and my jaw hung open when I saw Mingi at the very top corner of the photo. "I've never seen Mingi with pink hair before, how was I supposed to know?!"

Needless to say, I was definitely going to call Mingi later. San laughed out loud at my expression and once again, we were laughing together.

"This fate thing is crazy," I giggled. "Do you regret anything?"

"Never," San shook his head. "I say we celebrate this new found information."

"And how do you propose we do that, Mr. Choi?" I teased.

I screamed when San got on top of me and he hovered over me with a playful smirk on his beautiful face. "I can think of a few ways," he pecked my lips. "What do you say?"

I giggled uncontrollably and nodded. We might not have started on the right track and some people might think I'm dumb for giving the man who forced me to his will a chance, but something tells me we're going to be fine.

By all means, San isn’t perfect and neither am I, but sometimes we need people who aren’t perfect to help us achieve what’s good for us, not what is right.

#ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut #san smut #san x reader #choi san #ateez hard hours #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez imagines

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pumpkinpastiesandcoffee · 4 months ago

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Cursed Experiment

Sukuna x F! Reader ... 18+

Summary: A need to do something of use pushed her on the path of research, a path that lead to Ryomen Sukuna, a path that will haunt her forever. Words: 2646 Warnings: This whole thing is a big TW. NSFW, non con, blood, power play (its Sukuna guys cmon), unprotected, creampie, degredation, breeding kink sort of, size kink sort of.

A/N: I shouldn't have to say this but I don't condone actual r*pe or anything of the sort. This is fanfiction. Emphasis on the fiction.

~MDNI~

Being such a low-grade sorcerer was not the best feeling in the world, looked down on by so many, pitied or hated it felt the same. If only you had been born like a regular human, you could hide away from the monsters of the world, you could live guilt free because of you’re complete and utter uselessness. Unfortunately, however you could see curses, which meant you had to try hard, you had help otherwise that guilt would eat you up. Between that looming guilt, you’re barely there technique and desire for you to at least be able to protect yourself is how you came to be a student at jujutsu high. You did come to learn however, your talents lay in academia. Studying and analyzing, putting together reasonable theories to help in combat against the curses and curse users. After the Shibuya incident you were more determined than ever to learn and with that your mind had set itself upon Yuji Itadori and the powerful curse that resided within him, Ryomen Sukuna.

It had been weeks now, following the boy around and studying him, asking him all sorts of questions then disappearing into as much of the literature you could find. To your surprise, Itadori had been rather enthusiastic about your assessment, hoping in your studying of him that you might find a way to rid him of the curse and spare him or at least give him total control so that Sukuna didn’t harm anyone again. The curse in question had no intention of helping you though, chiming in on occasion purely out of his own amusement. You’d even taken to questioning Choso in order to gleam more insight on how cursed objects affect a host’s body. Although he wasn’t entirely helpful either, more so from a lack of understanding his own nature than a desire to help.

It was the topic of the death paintings that you were currently chatting about to Itadori, sat across from one another on his bed, a notebook to your side and laptop resting atop your lap. “So, we know very little as I said, but we can expect that they were created with their mother’s egg of course however when it comes to the paternal parentage it’s more of an, educated guess. See, it could be Noritoshi’s seed and the curse’s blood or cursed energy.” Taking a breath you continue with a slight exaggeration, “Or, it could be the other way around. The curse’s seed and Noritoshi’s blood. I don’t think imbuing his cursed energy would have passed on the Kamo blood technique though but explaining all why seems unnecessary for now. Anyway, what I’m getting at is…” as you continued on Sukuna had formed a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, remarking to the boy “Well, the little mouse is not so dull, imagine that. Prattles too much though.” Your cheeks burned red, eyes snapping up at the same time Itadori’s hand clapped over his cheek, a grimace on his face as he apologised.

You should be used to it by now, Sukuna had, on quite a few occasions, added his own comment to your conversations and it was never kind. Usually something about your weakness, hence he often referred to you as ‘little mouse’. It hurt at first and Sukuna seemed to enjoy that reaction, however now it mostly pissed you off and even though you tried to ignore him, his taunts seemed to burrow under your skin like some evil little parasite, poisoning your mind with hateful thoughts that had once been so foreign to you. “S’okay Yuji” you reassured, shaking your head and flashing a somewhat strained smile. You couldn’t blame him, he was nothing like Sukuna, so you were always quick to remind him of that. As you turned your eyes back to your notebook you hummed, a stray thought finding it’s way past your lips, “If you fathered a child, I wonder if it would possess any of Sukuna’s techniques or biology.” Thinking out loud truly was a bad habit and you felt nerves creep over you the second you said it, apologizing immediately, worried it was an inappropriate topic or just plain insensitive considering his impending execution.

“What an interesting question mouse, perhaps you should experiment, be the next Noritoshi hm?” The snide remark sent chills down your spine and Itadori stood up, waving his hands nervously as he apologised again. “Ah, perhaps that’s enough of my chatter for the night, I’ll leave you be Yuji” your voice had a waver to it, betraying your discomfort as you stood to collect your things. As you turned to leave, a hand clamped over your wrist and the sudden restraint had you jolting, notebook and laptop falling to the floor with a crash. As your eyes met Itadori’s you felt that cold chill wash over you, that feeling when your entire body knows it’s in danger and your stomach seems to collapse into itself and leave a nauseating heaviness in your gut. The hairs on your body stood on end as the sight of Sukuna’s distinct markings made your brain scream in fear and as you began to pull your hand back you knew his comments about your weakness were accurate. He could squeeze his hand and snap your wrist like a twig and the energy that radiated off of him stole your breath away.

He was smirking as he pulled his hand to his chest, forcing you close to him as he spoke in low voice, “You ask a lot of questions, it’s … vexing.” His voice trailed into a something of a growl, his annoyance clear as he continued, “So I’ll provide the experiment to answer one of your many questions, it has been a long time since I’ve indulged after all so I get something out of it too.” He really phrased it like he was about to do you a favor and in hopes of changing his mind, your brain and mouth finally started to work again and you teared up as you stuttered, “No, no Sukuna it, it was a p-passing though, please, d-don’t, I don’t want this!” Your words began to roll together in the panic as you began tugging against his vice like grip. He remained unmoved, staring at you like you were a hissing kitten, amusement barely hiding the cruelty in his eyes.

“You don’t want this? Hm, I thought you were dedicated to your studies, a shame.” Sukuna tilted his head, hand releasing you as he crossed his arms, muscles flexing in a way that only cemented your fear further. “I took control for this little experiment and you don’t want it? Ungrateful. Disrespectful.” With your arm free you stepped back, once, twice, then you turned to sprint and within an instant a hand had splayed out across your stomach, winding you with the force and as a scream tried to claw itself out of your throat another hand had clamped over your mouth. You felt your body being drawn back towards him and while Itadori himself wasn’t an overly large guy, he wasn’t like Aoi Todo in build or even Gojo in height, he still dwarfed you and his hand seemed to cover the entire lower half of your face, a couple fingers stretching down your neck.

The hand Sukuna had pressed to your stomach traced up to your neck, fingers curling over the neckline to form a fist around the fabric before yanking harshly, the buttons and fabric of your uniform giving away easily under the force he used. He pulled your bra down next, exposing your chest to the room as your tears ran freely down your cheeks now, collecting against his hand before spilling over and dripping down. A bored hum resonated from his chest as his free hand groped at your breasts, index and thumb capturing your nipple before pinching it harshly making your writhe against him as you tried to cry out only for the sound to muffle. Your hands tugged at his arm, trying to pull it off your chest as he chuckled. “I’d normally prefer to let you scream your little lungs out but, I’m on limited time so let’s not risk being interrupted.”

Sukuna turned towards the bed as his hand released your nipple only to travel down to lift your skirt instead, snaking under your panties and fingers parting your lips and searching for your core. Your hands followed his arm, nails digging into his skin as you tried to stop, your choked pleas ignored as his middle finger pressed into you with a groan. “Even for such a little thing your tight, I wonder, is it fear or is my little mouse a virgin? Perhaps both” he chuckled as he pressed his palm against your pelvis, forcing your body further against him and the erection that was now clearly rubbing against your lower back. The hand over your mouth loosened, giving you space to breathe and you took the chance to beg the curse for mercy and he rolled his eyes as he scoffed, “You’d be better off screaming, I have no intentions of stopping. I am curious though, is this fragile little body of your really untouched?” Sobbing, you nodded “Please, Sukuna please, don’t, don’t, please don’t.” “How fitting, a virgin sacrifice, that should be an omen of success for this experiment” Sukuna laughed, once again ignoring the pleas as his hand clamped back down on your mouth.

Forcing another finger into your tight heat had you squirming, pressing up on your toes in an attempt to get away but it only served to make the monster behind you groan into your ear. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Sukuna removed his fingers and instead used them to tear off the flimsy fabric that had been your underwear. “I’m gonna need both hands now, so no screaming yeah? Anyone that interrupts me will die and you don’t want people dying on your behalf, do you?” Another sob seems to wrack itself through your body and your hands fell away from his arm, your will to fight fizzling out at the promise of death. “I’m going to need you to answer me mouse, I want to hear you say you won’t scream.” As he dropped his hand from your mouth you barely had the capacity to speak, choking out between sobs, “I won’t scream, I won’t, I promise.” Sukuna chuckled, content with your compliance, “That’s a good little mouse.”

Now he pressed you forward and into the bed, forcing you onto your knees, ass up and face pressed into the mattress. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pulling his cock out and rubbing the fat tip against your pussy. His touch might have been rough but your body had reacted how he wanted and you were slick enough it would be enjoyable for him. You dug your fingers into the duvet, wishing, praying you’d sink into it and disappear before he got any further but your thoughts got crushed as forced the angry red tip into you. Sukuna dug his own nails into your ass as he gripped himself and tried to get in further, “If you don’t relax, I’m only going to be rougher.” He sounded irritated, like the burning stretch that had you crying harder now was simply an inconvenience to him. You tried though, you really did, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax to the intrusion but it had a mind of its own and seemed only to defy you, muscles clenching in an attempt to stop the curse from using you.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, “I warned you” and he pulled your hips back harshly, forcing himself in. You know you promised not to, but you screamed, it was thankfully muffled by the duvet that you had pulled into your face but Sukuna brought a hand down on your hip, snapping at you to be quiet. It felt like you were being split in half, like he tore your tight cunt to fit himself in, a burning, stinging pain that radiated throughout your pelvis and down your thighs making you gasp for air. He moved more freely now, sliding in and out with a deep grunt of pleasure as the coppery smell of blood filled your nostrils making you gag and bury your face deeper into the bed. “Humans, you’re as fragile and weak as bugs” He mused as he slammed your hips back against himself again. Even now he seemed bored, as if using your body like some fuck toy meant nothing to him. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so shattered you’d have picked up on how his pleasure seemed to come from dominating you, tormenting you, ruining you.

He reached a hand forward, yanking your hair to the side, forcing your face into the light and displaying the swollen red mess that was your eyes. Cheeks streaked with tears and the outline of his handprint that had slowly begun to bloom into a bruise in some places. He grinned then, eyes taking in your look of despair as he fucked you into him at a brutal pace, hand returning to your hip and once again he sunk his nails into your flesh pulling a broken cry from your lips. It sounded hoarse, your throat sore from sobbing, from screaming into his hand then the bed. Sukuna knew he was running low on time, he could feel Itadori trying to claw back out and he focused on the blood now instead. Watched as it beaded up then slipped over the swell of your ass, some of the droplets making it as far as your thighs.

Finally Sukuna felt that coil tighten, pulling your body as close as he could, the head of his cock now hitting your cervix with bruising force that had you whimpering in pain despite the odd heat of pleasure that still managed to build in your own stomach. He rutted himself against your ass, blood smearing and staining his pants, the smell of it and sex filling the air and with a low, rumbling groan he spilled himself inside. Your heartbroken sobs only serving to fuel him, encouraging him to press as deep as your body could possibly allow and he stilled, breathing slow and deep, watching your tense body quiver. “Hm, here’s a question for you. If you do get pregnant, will Itadori be there for you and the child? Will he run, convince you to abort it, maybe he’ll suggest you keep it? He’ll definitely blame himself either way. Stupid. Humans are so stupid. I look forward to it though. Breaking him is very enjoyable after all.” Sukuna pulled away, completely releasing you now, watching as the mix of blood and cum slowly dribbled out of your swollen cunt, the occasional drip falling onto the bed below.

Once you realised you were free you collapsed, legs pulling up to your chest as you trembled, waiting for the curse to disappear as bile burnt your throat as the sick reality of the situation settled over you. It felt like forever and yet it somehow it felt like it had all happened in the blink of an eye and you realised you felt dizzy, the room seemed to swim and shift before your eyes. Suddenly Itadori’s voice rang out, a choked gasped followed by a loud thud as he stumbled back only to fall on his ass. Itadori didn’t want to look, he really didn’t want to see but his eyes seemed fixated on the trembling form on his bed and he knew, he knew all the apologies in the world, no matter how sincere, weren’t going to fix this. A silence seemed to swallow the room now, disturbed only by Itadori’s scattered breaths and your own shaky, whimpered ones.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #tw.blood

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megumishotgf · 9 months ago

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pov: megumi has a crush on you

summary: more megumi headcanons i fear… ya’ll like my texts way more so this is definitely written for me.

warnings: reference to catcalling? other than that sfw + gender non-specified!!

masterlist

reserved! megumi who takes his time getting to know you. he studies all your qualities and aspects personality as if one day he’ll be quizzed on your features. megumi admires your ambition and drive but most of all your tenderness and selflessness. he’s drawn to people with good and expressive hearts. people who like to help others and perform nice gestures just because they can.

attentive! megumi who focuses diligently when you’re speaking, concentrating on every single trivial detail, even those that slip absent-mindedly past your lips without much thought. he listens to you ramble on and on about your interests yet it never bores him (and he gets bored of people alright). speaks so softly with you in a tone that surprises everyone around you (mainly nobara and yuji who have never seen him so interested in another human before… he’s always this soft to animals, though).

nerdy! megumi who prefers reading non-fiction but will pick up your favourite fantasy novels just because he wants to feel close to you. seeing your eyes light up when he mentions the titles to you makes his heart swell. highlights his favourite quotes and annotates in between pages. he’ll share them with you, gaze fixated on you as your eyes scan over all of this thoughtful comments. you feel such genuine happiness knowing he has gone so far to do this for you.

sappy! megumi who picks up one of your romance suggestions next, finding himself relating to the hopelessly enamoured protagonist. again, he annotates his copies and scribbles exclamation marks when he comes across passages that resonate with his growing feelings for you. doesn’t show you these ones, of course. at least not yet.

shy! gumi who admires your kindness from afar. all the little things you go out of your way to do just to help someone else. when you assist yuuji in the kitchen with his high-protein meals or paint nobara’s nails with great precision. when you’re the first to offer your seat up for an elderly woman on the metro or when you bounce out of your seat to help your teachers carrying piles of school documents.

observant! megumi who notices all of your little habits. the kind of things that make you feel so loved and cared for when he mentions them back to you. those things that no one else really noticed even if you badly wanted it to be seen.

love-sick! megumi would configures multiple playlists about you. one playlist containing all your favourite tracks and another with all those that you recommended to him directly. the type to listen to ‘i wanna be yours’ and fall asleep to thoughts of being with you. so many random romantic playlists often come up on his spotify profile. one time he made you a physical mixtape. yes, it was mostly just love songs… you swore it was just a coincidence. mostly.

insecure! megumi who constantly thinks he could never be good enough for you. dismisses your concern when you notice him distancing himself (because somehow you can distinguish between this and his usual quietness) but can never fully push you away. feels his heartbeat accelerate when you offer him physical comfort (with less reluctance than with anyone else). hugs from you are so comforting.

touch-starved! megumi who craves your physical affection all the time and it gets very noticeable. his arms instinctively circle around your waist whenever you greet him, rushing over for a hug. at first it was always you initiating the affection, but it’s starting to feel so natural reciprocating it. your hand will subtly slip into his when you are walking around central tokyo together or you’ll cling onto his side for comfort and warmth. he worries that you’ll be able to hear his obnoxiously loud heartbeat when you do so, but nothing could make him pull away.

annoyed! megumi who glares at his friends when they tease him about your physical affection (or when they hear your nicknames for him). but at least they have the decency to wait until you’ve left, he thinks. i give them one more week, yuuji says to nobara as megumi walks away in the same direction you just went.

if looks could kill… nobody would want to experience angry! megumi. even yuuji and nobara started to feel unsettled seeing him like that after some old loser started to catcall you. you had barely registered what was called out to you before he fearfully disappeared around the corner.

kind! megumi who opens his arms for you when he sees you’re upset. sometimes struggles with verbal comfort, but he remembers how nice it is to be hugged by you, so surely this should help. it does help - and he feels his heart swell when you thank him for being there for you.

even more nervous! megumi who finally musters the courage to confess his feelings for you. rehearses the speech in his head (and surprisingly to yuuji) tens of times only to be left astounded after you make the confession first. finally kissing you felt like the sun rising after months of darkness.

megumi who has infinite amounts of layers!! getting to know him is truly a magical experience. ultimate green flag he is perfect end of discussion!!

haven’t published anything in so long… hey ya’ll. how is everyone doing. pls send requests i am out of ideas!!

#jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi comfort #megumi headcanons #megumi my beloved #jjk drabbles

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kiss4noo · 3 months ago

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𝓗is palette ! . ˚ ౨ৎ ⊹

꒰ 🎨 ꒱ 𝒩ishimura ℛiki [니키] : 𝒪neshot!

𝓰enre. soulmate au, fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ 𝓹airing. non-idol,,artsy ni-ki x artsy fem reader. ໒꒱ 𝔀arning(s). bumping into each other cliche meets classmates 2 lovers. 𝔀ord 𝓬t. 869

𝓼ynopsis .ᐟ in which people see the world in shades of black & white until making contact with their soulmate.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓶i 𝓷ote. remember, this is a work of fiction. i did not proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

NISHIMURA RIKI was the quiet, loner type at decelis high, considering the fact that his best friends were all upperclassmen that had since graduated. he often sat by himself during lunch period, headphones on blast as he drew in his small sketchbook. his art was beautiful to anyone who had the privilege to see, yet it lacked one element; color.

the boy greatly envied those who had gained their palette, straight from the source of interacting with their soulmate; to which he had yet to meet. at least that’s what he believed, since he’d never came in physical contact with them.

currently, he was sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, hoping to sketch the scenery of campus, humming along to a track playing in his ears. his legs were entirely outstretched, laid before him as he used his thighs as a surface to draw upon.

a figure, obviously in a rush, had approached with hurried steps through the grass, tripping over his limbs with a soft ‘oof’. glancing up in surprise, riki’s gaze met the back of your kneeling figure. he recognized you immediately, as you shared multiple art classes throughout the years, and many labeled you as the campus sweetheart.

but…

wait, your outfit was a different sprawl of hues from the generic blacks and whites that he could see. in fact, his view was anything but grayscale. he assumed that you’d realized the same, your head tilting a few degrees in curiosity as you stared at the green grass beneath your palms.

pulling himself from the initial shock, the boy removed his headphones, placing them and his sketchbook aside to help you gather what had fallen from your grasp, knelt beside you.

“are you okay, y/n?” the boy questioned, his fingertips grazing yours as you’d reached for the item. when your eyes met his, he felt the air leave his lungs, your features far more angelic than people had described. his sight was one that people would’ve fought for, and yet he had the privilege to witness you in such beautiful color. your expression mirrored his, the honey of his skin, the blush of his lips– it was an exquisite change, leaving you in awe.

“y/n?” his voice drew you from the daze of his beauty, causing your eyes to flutter in rapid blinks that showcased your nerves.

“s–sorry, riki.” you murmur, reaching to take your sketchbook from his hands, only for him to pull it back. leaning your upper half forward, you found yourself a mere few inches from him– your breath mingling with his.

“y/n.” riki called with a low tone, causing you to gulp, averting your gaze. his fingers reached up, gently caressing your chin as he turned your head to meet his eyes.

“why were you in such a rush, bunny?” he questions, his brows furrowing in worry of any possible injury you may have gotten. flustered by the pet name, your cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, catching his interest as he waited patiently for a response.

“well.. well i wanted to..” you begin, stumbling over your words in embarrassment. you were actually on the search for him, hoping to find a vantage point in which you could draw him for the day. your fingers reached to grasp at the sketchbook, your name sprawled across the front; only for riki to cheekily grin at you.

“what’s in here, hm?” he questions with a playful wiggle of his brows, glancing down at the sketchbook to flip the front page.

“w–wait!” you attempted to protest, only for his lips to part in surprise, having found a drawing of… himself?

“y/n…” he whispers in disbelief, his eyes casting between the drawing and you, his gaze landing on the paper once more. his fingers gently flipped through the pages, finding a multitude of sketches you’d made of him; most of them during lunch period, where he peacefully sat alone.

“oh, pretty...” he murmurs, folding the sketchbook shut before placing it aside, practically tugging you onto his lap. “stop admiring from afar.” he mutters, pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, to which your skin flushes even further. he was honored to have been the apple of your eye, as you were his.

after all, his staring sessions during class were rather obvious to everyone but you.

“riki!” you squeal in shyness, hands pressed against his chest as he lovingly smothers you.

“see, it's a sign that you should’ve joined me all along, baby.” he coos, glancing up at the sky and pointing with his index finger; the colors sprawled across your vision as you turned your head.

“not only can you see colors, but you have me to grace your presence.” he grins at you, ticking your sides as a giggle falls past your lips, your gaze returning to his.

“oh, yippie!” you sarcastically respond with a playful smile, earning a gasp of feign hurt from the boy; to which you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

now it was his turn to be flustered, your action catching him off guard before he pulled you in once again, your smiles meshing as you expressed your affection, no longer hidden.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ 𝓽aglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll

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canichangemyblogname · 5 days ago

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“The show isn’t going to cater to your fan fiction fantasy 🤣.”

Yeah… no. See, that’s not the issue. 1.) I don’t read fanfiction; can also barely write it, 2.) the issue 100% is that this was very clearly intended to come out of the blue, but because it seems increasingly likely LFJ isn’t returning to the show, there is a lack of resolution. This breakup is result of Tommy’s insecurities in the relationship. He feels he’s gonna get left behind; have his heart broken. The breakup even surprises Tommy. It blindsides Buck, a character who has long been characterized by a listlessness and a lack of defined vision for his future. When his boyfriend breaks up with him because he doesn’t believe that Buck can actually see him in his future, the narratively weighty thing is for the characters to later—after processing this breakup and struggling with competing wants—confront that. But that seems so incredibly unlikely, so it feels more like they kiboshed this for some external reason rather than a narrative one.

Then there’s an issue with the follow through with themes. If this is the end-end— and that seems likely with LFJ’s departure from the show—there’s a lack of follow through on reoccurring themes in the show, like second chances, making one’s own happiness, and how “our people” make life worth it. If the goal is Buck’s return to a 1.0 era, that would be a stark and sharp character regression instead of growth for a character who has come a long way over 8 seasons, which is not narratively satisfying. And when it’s ONLY the bisexual character who ever gets arcs like this, and it’s explicitly because of some “he doesn’t know what he really wants” or “he can’t commit,” then the story isn’t original; it’s a stereotype. There’s also then a very jarring lack of follow through on changes to structure and style they had been planning to explore, like finding ways to integrate a Love Interest into non-romance and non-relationship storylines, being able to expand these characters through professional scenarios together, and that whole thing about Buck getting off the “hamster wheel.” All of these hinted at major structural changes to the way the show writes secondary characters, which would also have major implications for characters like Karen and Josh. This sort of shift, understandably, gets viewers invested in a new era of an EIGHT season show, and disappointed when these structural changes fail (repeatedly, may I add) to manifest.

It’s disappointing because it seems—due to casting changes beyond their control and of no fault of anyone— there won’t be any follow through on this purposefully sudden breakup. Even some upcoming confrontation between the characters could wrap up the tension left in the air. The narrative doesn’t need tropes or some rom-com ending to be narratively satisfying! It can end tragically and still fee resolved.

Most fans’ issue with this is that they did this for the short-term drama, not for the long-term story telling.

—Sincerely, a novelist (a VERY different writing form) who writes tragedies and recently finished a gay romantic tragedy that ends—well—with a break up.

#911 ABC #I also don’t like the rhetoric surrounding the break up #a lot of it reeks of bi stereotypes #Then there’s the fact that NONE of Tommy’s insecurities in his relationship with Buck get resolved either #and they’d been narratively teasing various insecurities about belonging for nearly a season

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multiwreckedmess · 1 year ago

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Two Princes (An Unexpected Part 2)

Pairing: Prince!Hyunjin x fem!servant!Reader x Prince!Felix Genre: Royalty AU Smut WC: 5.5k Summary: The Princes are a dream too good to be true. The previous encounter feels like a mere hallucination. They are determined to prove you wrong. TW/CW: Power imbalance. SoftDom!Hyunjin, SoftDom!Felix, unprotected penetration, non-explicit consent, reader is called “darling” “doll” “toy”, hyunlix is called “sir”, oral sex, throat fucking, gagging mentioned, lots of body fluids, creampie/cum in mouth. Hyunjin has a name kink ig? Felix and Hyunjin aren’t related but are close like brothers so if that gives you the ick heads up. Written mostly in a fugue state with no editing because HAPPY 5-STAR DAY

As usual, this is fiction not a resource manual for how to do literally anything in life. This does not represent ANYONE real or fictional. It’s a fantasy AU FFS if you cannot figure that out I cannot help you. Also not proofread sorry...

Part 1 idk that it matters though. But people see to like it!

Eyes shut to prolong your feeling of floaty weightlessness you roll over, surprised to find more mattress instead of the edge of the bed. Sandwiched between cool cotton sheets your fingers run over the fabric, softer than you remember but not unfamiliar, it’s fabric you’ve felt too many times to count as you practiced folding immaculate corners. There’s even more light here than in your small single room on the ground floor that has to fight for the occasional beam. Gripping the thin fabric of your chamise with the luxurious cotton bedspread you bolt upright, eyelids flying open and heart pounding. The room is full of light linen fabrics in preparation for summer, bouncing the sun off of the walls brilliantly. Your maid’s uniform sticks out, dark stiff cloth neatly hung over the back of a small wooden chair nearby. Window open to the spring breeze, the smell of the castle garden flowers wafts past. It’s not your room, it’s not even near your side of the castle, you’re not even sure you’ve seen this room. It’s too quiet and lovely for you to feel comfortable in, years of conditioning rousing your aching body from the sheets to hurriedly don your uniform. Unfussed about fully lacing your bodice you scurry out of the door, still making the effort to close it quietly, muscle memory hindering your quick escape. Heels barely touching the tiles, your feet propel you forward, down the side stairs to the cool darkness of the ground level, your home level. It’s easier and more familiar for you to navigate this, both the people and the corridors.

A little sore and a little confused you’ve never felt more relieved to crash unseen into the kitchen, yanking a bundle of herbs from the pantry. You knew how to prepare the remedy, the ‘backup plan’ that had passed through the eons of people before you. Choking back the bitter concoction in your room alone you sighed. A small price to pay for a moment in a dream. It barely felt real. None of your interactions with the Princes ever did. Memories tossed in a haze of fairy dust thickly layered over your senses. What seemed so real and physical even a day prior was faded and yellowed and distant already.

Never to happen again for sure. You were a birthday present. An experience for the men. Nothing more. Don’t delude yourself.

From bundled in your covers, much rougher than you’d slept in the night before, to busying yourself with daily chores, you tried your best to forget. Yet you couldn’t help thinking giddily of the possessive way their eyes watched you, their tongues talked about you. Worth of winning, of dominating. A good subject, the best really that they could hope for. Their prized gift.

It was easy to slip back into the natural rhythm of the castle. The council only convened on a monthly basis and without their direct request, few women were asked to care for either prince, mostly needing hands for meals and daily exercises, nothing that particularly required you. They were independent and easy to avoid without drawing much attention. Free agents at least within the walls of the fortress.

It’s humid and sticky. It finally feels like summer is nearing after a cool spring. You don’t expect anyone of importance to see you, hair pulled up and away into ‘work mode’ straggling strands flying every which way. Cheeks hot from exertion you knead your fresh-from-the-icebox pie crust. Flour billowing up around your elbows as you slam the dough into the smooth marble counter. Finally seeing fit to press it flat and roll it out to cut into thin strips and carefully lattice the top of your strawberry rhubarb pie.

“I’ve been simply craving a slice of pie,” a deep rumble purrs in your ear as you weave the delicate strips between each other. “-and I do love strawberries.” You bump up against him as you scramble to curtsy, “Your Royal Highness, Prince Felix. What-why-you- forgive me but this is the servers quarters-” “This is my castle,” he retorts, “nothing is off limits that is within my sight or grasp.” You nod your head in a half bow, “correct sir, of course but- why? Your eyes shouldn’t be soiled by this!” He smirks, eyes flitting to a stack of freshly washed strawberries, waiting to be pitted and sliced. “I wanted a snack,” he explains cooly, arm brushing passed yours to grab the fattest, ripest strawberry on the top of the pile, “and there were none left in the auxiliary kitchen so I thought I’d find my very favorite sweet.” Pouty lips wrapping around the plump fruit he bites down, red juices tinting his mouth a pinkish hue. Eyes closing slowly like a pleased cat, Felix moans. You struggle to keep your composure as a telltale throb courses to your cunt. Slowly his lids flutter open, hand turning the strawberry to you, eyes locked on your face. “It’s perfect. Won’t you try a bite?” “Sir I couldn’t, really, they are meant for-” the firm flesh of the fruit bumps against your lower lip, finishing your sentence for you. “Darling, you’re going to refuse a treat from your future king? That’s not the good girl I know.” A bead of juice slides over your lips, traveling down your chin. Felix watches with pride as you slowly accept his offer, hesitantly opening your mouth, waiting for him to place the berry further on your tongue. When he doesn’t move you gingerly crane your neck forward to take the other half of the berry and bite down. An explosion of acidic sweetness plays over your tongue. It is as he said, a perfect berry, the dictionary definition of a strawberry, tangy and fresh. It’s difficult to control your eyes, momentarily rolling back in your head in delight. “Delicious,” Felix watches you savor the experience, feasting on your reaction, arms caging you in as you chew. “I’m still a little hungry though,” his thumb swipes the trail of red from the corner of your mouth as you swallow, “aren’t you?” The wet pad playing over your lips you open and accept him in, tongue twirling around him sucking the juice off gently. Felix shudders, hips pressing forward and pinning yours to the counter. Your entire nervous system pulses, tingling waves traveling out to your fingertips, an alarm jolting through you. He leans in, eyelids half lowered, like he’s going to kiss you. Instead he stops, firmly pressing his damp thumb to your cheek and brushing flour off you before pulling away completely. You can’t contain the gasp, the obvious release of tension from your body, the way you bit your lip to try to control your expression. “Cute,” he coos, turning heel to the door. “Mother always said not to fill up on sweets though. Too much sugar will spoil the meal.”

Sweaty, dirty, skirt hitched and legs unstockinged, the hot mid morning sun beats down on you as you plod through the large kitchen garden. Far less aesthetic than the gardens outside of the window you’d woke up by after that fateful day but far more useful. Flowers here won’t turn into beautiful bouquets or pressed ornaments to be put on display. They’ll turn into sustenance or medicine or be plucked to prolong the herb’s fragrance. “Were I not who I am, I think I’d rather like the country life.” You hear a voice float your way. “Says the one standing on the outside,” you retort without thinking or looking up. “Country life is easy when you’re not the one elbow deep in-” bent over, yanking a shallot free of the earth you are interrupted by hands at your waist and thighs meeting your backside. Yelping you whip around ready to smack the assailant who dares handle you in such a rough manner but as your head turns and eyes meet you find yourself diverting the energy into a curtsy. “Your Royal Highness, Prince Hyunjin, I’m so sorry I-I would’ve never- if I’d known- why are you-? Why didn’t you-? I’m not decent!” You stammer helplessly, eyes down, quickly working to let your skirts down to preserve what little appearance you hoped to have in front of your lord. “Darling, I’ve seen you far less decent and will see you far less decent again, if you’ll have me.” A lump catches in your throat, brain melting in the heat of the sun or the heat of his gaze. “I thought- I assumed it was just- I was just-” Hyunjin smiles and laughs, brushing back the small hairs stuck to your brow. It’s a kind laugh, a knowing laugh. “Now now, our mothers taught us better than that. Never waste wine, words or women, that was the little idiom.” He looks at you with such sincerity, eyes crinkling into half moons, beads of sweat forming on his own brow as the sun rises higher. As you stand silent in the middle of the garden surrounded by freshly unfurled leaves it feels private and intimate. Slowly his arms mimic the growing beanstalks beside you, wrapping around at your waist casually. “Sir I’m dripping sweat and caked in dirt you really shouldn’t-” “What if I like that about you? The sweat and the dirt. What if I want my woman to be sweaty and dirty?” He cocks his eyebrow with a smirk. It’s hard to contain your eye roll even as your heart flutters, “then that is your choice sir but-” “You can call me my name. We aren’t in earshot of anyone, you can just say it.” “Sir I-” “I want you to say my name.” You sigh, shooting him a pleading glance as you untangle yourself from his arms, “sir please my training dictates-” “I can either say please or I can order you but I want to hear you say my name so you will.” “Prince Hyunjin,” you say hesitantly, hoping that it will be enough to satisfy him. He shakes his head, “just the last part. Just my name.” “Hyunjin,” you breathe out. Though it’s a silly superstition but it feels like a bolt of lightening might strike you at any time, your body tensing in preparation for the hit. Even the slight brush of his fingertips to the side of your arms has your shoulder flinching in response. “It sounds so sweet coming from you, darling, but I rather hear you scream it.” He says with a twinkle in his eye, hand wandering to your ass to cup it. It’s easier this time, “Hyunjin,” falling exasperated from your lips. “Not here.” With a chuckle he steps closer, impossibly closer. The sun is hot and so is he, both sending rays of heat from their bodies to set you aflame. He smells like earth and musk. “It’s my castle. If we want to right here, we can. And if anyone says anything malicious about it I can have them beheaded.” Your eyes bulging, you gasp. Normally you’d assume he was joking but his face is so neutral, so matter-of-fact, that there has to be at least some truth to his words. The proximity to power scares and excites you. “But- my brother might hear about it and he’d be so disappointed to miss out on the fun! I don’t think I could bare his sorrowful stare.” And so Hyunjin leaves you, stunned in the middle of the kitchen garden, only half the leeks for dinner gathered in your basket and the afternoon sun high in the sky.

“You’ve been requested for duty in the throne room again,” the matron eyes you up and down. Logically you know, her judgemental gaze is simply routine, scrutinizing your preparedness to undertake the job. It was a part of your work you were accustomed to. Fastidiously managing every aspect of the staff was her job, any emotion had been removed long before you were born. “Be sure to tidy yourself.” She’s brusque with words and actions alike, hurriedly closing your door behind her. “The princes wouldn’t care if you marched in there only in your chamise, they seemed to make that quite clear,” you snickered to yourself, the matron’s final word to “tidy” still fresh in your ear. You weren’t shocked to be called back, neither was she. You were well trained in her eyes, a star pupil of hers, of course the princes would see the value in your quiet servitude. However you knew that your aptitude at sitting in a corner and refilling goblets wasn’t the reason they were asking for you and that was enough to make your stomach flutter. The tension of anticipation building and surging through you, an energy, infectiously radiated from your aura. How would you manage to keep yourself in check for however long the council would be today

High arched windows, velvet curtains swapped recently for billowing linens, light flooded the great hall. Even your corner, your darling little corner, was brighter than you remembered. The twin glittering thrones posed domineering at the head of the long table, lined with similarly lush chairs although none as impressive. Memories of your previous foray into the belly of the castle appear in flashes as you blink. The cool air kissing your skin before their warm hands had time to. The prickle of tension passing up your spine as they admired you. You shake yourself, you have to stay focused. You can’t get your hopes up. You were a gift, a toy, an experience for the Princes and you should be happy enough with that. No matter how they were raised or their stations in life, they were men after all. The matron had always warned you, in love and politics all men were knaves not knights. Besides what good would swooning do when work had to be done? Play your part, the stalwart help, rather than expose the small stuttering maid you feel like in their presence. It isn’t long before advisors and guests alike trickle into the room, some mingling while standing, others immediately settling into their seats. A good mixture of familiar faces and new. The hum of voices busys your mind as you wait for someone to have want for something. When the princes enter it feels like the oxygen is sucked from the room. The older advisors don’t seem to notice, happily continuing their side conversations. The guests notice. You notice. Instead of heading to their thrones they join the fray around the table, quiet confident smiles and assured strides carry them. Hyunjin seems more at ease, leaning to the side casually as Felix maintains his near military posture. They almost blend into the group, were it not for their beauty. Their hair is even longer since you last saw it, flowing almost past their chin, pieces neatly tucked behind their ears. Were they yours to have and hold you’d braid pieces back from their face, maybe weave flowers or ribbons through. You catch yourself. It wasn’t your place to consider how they managed any part of their appearance. It was your place to monitor the food and drink and get additional assistance as required. A clanging of a fork to a glass jolts you up and onto your feet. Hyunjin’s glass is aloft, casually stretched in front of him, focused on you. “Before we officially begin,” his voice fills the hall, ringing clearly off the walls, “I’d like to welcome our Miss. Would you please come to the head of the table for me darling?” You nearly choke as all eyes turn to you. There are no other people near you, there is no excuse to hide behind. An order is an order and you find your legs moving stiffly below you, stepping almost mechanically as they bring you to the head of the table. Felix’s hand swoops behind you, the warmth of his palm spreading through the layers of bodice, corset, and chamise, easily maneuvering you between the princes with a gentle pressure against your spine. Hyunjins hand lines up just above Felix’s, like a guard on either side. “As she passed her trial run with flying colors, we’ve requested she become a permanent fixture as a part of these meetings,” Hyunjin beams as the party claps. Arms pressed to you, they keep your standing as your legs waiver. “Please say hello. We insist.” You clear your throat, “I’m honored too much by your graces. I look forward to fulfilling my duties to the utmost,” your voice breaks awkwardly, embarrassed heat creeping up the back of your neck. “We look forward to using all of your services.” Felix announces, the polite clapping of the attendees carefully covers his cheeky swat at your behind. Hyunjin gently squeezes your hip with a reassuring nod. It feels like home, even just for a second.

Meetings and side conversations and boring court business seems to last forever. Normally you’d see at least some attrition from the advisors and guests but today each one appears to be firmly cemented to their seat. Your spine grows tired, eyes drooping with fatigue. It would be one thing if they needed you as they did the last meeting, running around with pitchers of various drinks to suit all tastes but today no one seems to want for anything. Somehow the absence of work is more tiring than the work itself. Your time is spent finding small ways to keep yourself alert, tapping your toes, staring at the bright sun, even busying yourself by changing out the many pitchers to their cooler cellar kept counterparts. Even with the intense conversations and work happening it’s impossible to miss the prince’s apologetic glances as you pass the table once more, topping off glasses of both water and wine. “Please,” Hyunjin claps his hands together, “no more. My brother is getting a headache and I fear I should shortly follow if this goes much longer. As I see it, there are no more pressing agenda items for this month, the rest may follow at our next meeting. Thank you all.” Hyunjin looks over his joined hands, locking eyes with you as he sits. He knows the staff’s rules, carefully watching you as you wait on your stool.

Your eyes move between the princes, sensing the game of cat and mouse has already begun without your being aware. The thought enters your mind- at least this time you caught on before you were half dressed. “Come, darling.” Felix’s command rings in the empty hall, shaking you all the way down to your core. “We’d like some of your assistance.” Your pulse quickens, stepping lightly off the stool. Ears buzzing and oversensitive your footsteps sound like the marching of foot soldiers even as you pass lightly on the marble floor. It mirrors your heartbeat, wild in your chest and sinking low into your gut. “Your royal highnesses, what do you desire?” You curtsy low in front of them. Meeting their gaze from beneath your brows at the apex of the bow. They look briefly at each other and smile. “You.” Felix states plainly. The blatentness of it chokes you, air catching between your lungs and throat. “I heard my brother paid you a visit,” Hyunjin begins. “He left hungry.” “That’s funny as I heard a similar rumor about you Hyunjin,” Felix’s eyes stay locked on you. “visiting her in the garden but…you left empty handed.” Your eyes flit downwards, embarrassed. “I’m sorry sirs, I’ll-I- if you are left wanting than the burden is on me.” Wordlessly they rise from their thrones and meet you on the ground before their thrones. “Are we really so burdensome to you?” Despite being only a pair their presence surrounds you, slowly circling on opposite sides like sharks. “No that’s not what I - you- sirs- I-my words- it has been a long day for all of us and really-” you mutter, flustered. Head still tilted down Hyunjin takes the chance to plant a kiss on the back of your neck, lips working their way from your spine to the juncture between of your shoulder and side of your neck. Slowly his arms wrap around your waist, hands caressing up the front of your bodice. There’s no tugging, no hurry to remove the rough fabric under his fingertips. Instead he treats it like the most luxurious silk, breath fanning hotly as he groans. “You’re right, we did you wrong today. Should’ve ended those pesky formalities much sooner. You must be so tired.” Hyunjin murmurs empathetically, the tones buzzing against your skin.Your body shivers, spine straightening with your head collapsing back on his shoulder. The slight suction of his mouth as he nips and sucks along his path has you head back on his shoulder, gasping for air. “We must’ve mistaken a tired mind for disinterest, isn’t that right darling?” Felix presses himself to your front, sandwiching you between their warm frames. “Or did a cat catch your tongue?” He laughs and his licks from your collarbone up the column of your throat. If it weren’t for their pressure you’d have collapsed to the floor between them as your legs turn to jelly.

The princes feel the additional weight immediately. “Move?” “Mhm.” “Garden room.” “Perfect.” Their casual communication to each other is a far crying from the flowering sentences they court you with. Brisk, short, economical with their words. The dialogue of two men who need none to understand each other. Felix breaks from you, his hand still curled over yours, tugging the mass of you and Hyunjin forward through the room to a small door you hadn’t remembered ever spotting. Whisking you down the corridor you barely remember the area before you pop out the other side into the room you’d woken up in after your last foray. The sun casting a reddish orange over, particles of dust float in the air, the bed shoddily made, unlike those you tended to. Less like the image of opulence you’d originally made it to be, more of a sanctuary from daily castle life.

They assume their roles naturally, Felix left to undress you, like last time, as Hyunjin undresses himself. Felix’s hands are sure of their path, unlacing your bodice, unpinning the waist of your skirts, popping open the confines of your corset, each action a smooth steady motion. Goosebumps coat your newly exposed skin as he peels off layers at a time. He peppers the areas with warm kisses as he tosses the fabric to the floor at the side of the bed, dark fabrics sitting like piles of fallen leaves. With the smallest of pushes Felix presses your back to the mattress, pulling your legs up against his torso to shimmy your loosened skirts and bloomers the rest of the way off your body.

Head sliding sideways Hyunjin reappears in your line of sight. Lit by the streams of the setting sun his body line is thin and muscular, elegant as ever. Even as he slowly strokes his already aroused member he looks beautiful. Lips parted slightly and eyes locked with yours, his thighs meet the foot of the bed and hault him just barely within your fingertips reach. Eyes unable to tear themselves from him, you feel your thighs press into Felix’s shoulders as he pulls your pelvis to the edge of the bed. Chest tensing, eyes blown wide, you gasp as his lips tickle your inner thigh. For a moment your eyes cross as Hyunjin laughs, a series of three short airy hums. “Focus on me, darling,” he purrs, “you know how much I love to see your pretty expressions.” With a breathy “yes, sir,” you nod shortly as he approaches you, knees cushioned by the billowing fabrics of the bed. Hungry for him you drop your jaw and let your tongue loll, an open invitation he readily takes. Supporting at the back of your neck, he coos as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, barely pursing your lips as you kiss your way down. Hyunjin shudders when you finally wrap yourself fully around him and you preen. Seeing the Prince in such a vulnerable state so suddenly grows the fire in your belly, motivates you to go further, screwing your eyes open to watch him as you struggle to take the full length into your throat, tears burning and blurring your vision. “Do you trust your future king?” Hyunjins long fingers trace your throat. Slurping you nod. “If it’s too much tap my thigh twice, if it’s urgent, pinch. I don’t care if it hurts me, you have my permission.” Carefully he lays your head down, placing his thighs on either side of your head. As he takes your mouth you feel him bump against a resistance in your throat. Trying your best to force past it, you find the position puts you at his complete mercy, trapped between him and Felix. You gag softly as he attempts a second push. “Slowly darling, breathe through your nose. Trust me.” Delicate strokes of his fingers down the column of your throat calm you. With a full breath in through your nose he pops past the barrier with a hiss, nearly immediately retreating fully, strands of spit still connecting the two of you. With tender touches he swipes the mess from your jaw, “you did so well darling. See how easy it is when you trust me?” “Yes sir,” you pant. Palm pressed to the side of your neck he fucks your throat, watching the swell of your neck as he fills you, whining with each flex of your muscle eager to gulp him down. “Just like that, keep breathing darling. Breath calms-fuck- just a little more.” Pacing your breathing is a difficult task with Felix taking every opportunity to distract you. His breath is so warm on your inner thighs as he teases you, lips just barely brushing over your slit as he passes from leg to leg as if one would get jealous of the other if lingered on for too long. Finally he sees you’re wound up enough to settle at your mound. Tongue dipping between your folds and tracing you slowly, the warms of his mouth meshes with the heat of your sex. Hands tangling into the sheets as you try to ground yourself as he hones in on your clit. Flicking and swirling his taut muscle around it you hardly notice the almost inaudible whines that escape your open mouth. His hands grasp your thighs to him as your hips kick upwards, still speared between the two of them.

As you feel Hyunjins thighs tense below your palms he withdraws with a groan. “He’s doing a good job right? Your Prince is treating you well?” Hyunjin goads. “Tell him, tell him how good he is.” “Sir, so good,” you croak, barely able to crane over your body to look down at the source of pleasure. “Which sir?” Hyunjin smirks, “we’re both your sir. So tell me who.” “Prince Felix, sir,” you stutter and catch on his name. Your fingers desperately want to scramble and tug on the mop of blonde hair between your legs. Groaning, you gather the sheets into your fists to satiate your need. “It feels so good. God you feel so good.” Endorphins flood your body, bursting from your center out to your fingertips like white hot fire. Your whines reach a fever pitch, warbling as your body shakes. “Sir, Felix, sir,” panic rises in your throat as another wave quickly hits. Your abs tense and brace down, the walls of your sex clenching and pulsing around nothing. His hand joins his mouth, fingers short and small but strong to make up for it, quickly fucking into you as tears prick the corners of your eyes. The world spins around you, spiraling into intense pleasure. A wash of relief passes over you, in you, through you, sensitizing you. You gulp air down, lungs hiccupping it back in small bursts as you tremble and twist and cry, senses lost to the world. “Enough, we don’t want to break her,” Hyunjin pulls Felix back from you by his mane of hair, his mouth and jaw glisten with a mess of spit and your juices. Felix pants and snarls like a man possessed, “wanted to see how many she could take.” Shaking himself of Hyunjin, he runs his hands along your legs, still vibrating with exhaustion. “Wanted to spoil our present. Otherwise how will she know how sweet she tastes?” “Go show her then,” Hyunjin clambers between your thighs, practically forcing Felix from his post. Cock in hand he teases your hole, gathering the mess to lubricate himself. He fills you with one steady thrust, stretching out to accommodate him with a groan. You moan as his hips push harder into the backs of your thighs, the head of his cock stirring your guts. Looking up at Felix dreamily he seems like the son of Apollo rather than a son of a man, shining back at you as fiercely as the sun. “You missed this didn’t you doll?” He leans down lips to yours, catching your reply before you manage to voice it, stealing a messy kiss as you moan. You taste more him than yourself, the tanin of the red wine still clinging to his tongue, as juicy and ripe as the heat of the august sun had baked the grapes that made it. “Yes sir,” you manage to groan, open mouth pressed to his shoulder as Hyunjin leans his whole body weight forward into your thighs. “Good. Maybe next time you won’t steal yourself so selfishly from us.” Hyunjin hisses as his hips pull back, pulling a groan from you as well. Your hands scramble indecisively, the need to grab him and fill yourself once again fighting your training to treat each man with white gloves. You can hear Felix chuckle at your side, pitch starting low and climbing slightly. He’s finally fully undressed himself, each groove of his musculature seemingly cut from glass, his undertones contrasting with Hyunjin’s, both luminescent in the low light. Laid bare like this their different lineages could not be more clear despite their joint upbringing. “You want to be ours, right?” Felix sweeps some of the collected strands of hair from your brow. “We won’t play with a toy that doesn’t want to be played with.” “Sir- I want- I want-” your reply emerges in quick gasps as Hyunjin’s hips roll into you over and over, driving you back into the center of the mattress. “You want? Hyune- are you not fucking her hard enough? She wants.” Felix smirks at the elder. Hyunjin grunts and withdraws from you, clearly annoyed by Felix’s goading. Grabbing your hips he shoves you onto your side and then stomach, his grip leaving indents in your soft flesh. You scramble to accommodate his wordless directions, pushing your knees below you as he pulls your ass up, presenting to him lewdly. Hasty and animalistic he pushes back into you easily, new angle and new sense of fullness. Wobbling with each thrust you try to prop your chest up and away from the bed, arms knocking out from under you, defeated. Back arched fully up you gasp into the mattress, wailing and moaning muffled in the down, drool soaking into the sheets. “Who is fucking you dumb?” “Sir, Prince Hyunjin sir.” You yelp against the damp fabric. “What is my name?” A wail escapes your mouth instead of a name. Hyunjin leans over, hips still pistoning against you. With a shaky growl he commands you,“say my name.” It’s like a dam in you breaks fully, flooding the air with words and his member with your arousal. “Hyunjin! Hyunjin,” you scream without care for formalities, over and over until his name becomes a sound rather than a proper noun. “Hold her up for me.” You vaguely hear Felix ask Hyunjin before a tug at your arms pulls you up. Tension keeping you jutting outward with your back bowed, your shoulder joints burn as he silences you with his cock, lodged between your lips. No coaxing, no slow pace, just a man chasing a means to an end. He’s thicker than you remember, mouth straining to accommodate him comfortably as the spongy head of his cock hits your barrier, briefly popping past it as Hyunjin bounces you forward. Completely at their mercy, you feel like you’re floating between them, pinging back at forth, never left wanting for long. Your tongue can feel the seizing of Felix’s impending climax as he stuffs himself down your throat, a whimper catching in his throat as he unloads before stumbling backwards as spit and cum burble and overflow from your lips. Hyunjin follows closely, collapsing forward and warmth rushes to fill your core. This must be the ecstasy of death, you think, every fiber of your being reverberating uncontrollably beneath your lover as he sucks small kisses possessively into the nape of your neck. You aren’t sure if the heartbeat you feel thudding is yours or his. “She’ll stay here.” “With us?” “With us.”

Part three eventually. I have an outline its just everything in between. Probably not for a while though ya’ll i’m sorry. I’m going to have a few Ateez centric pieces out because June is theeeee month for comebacks.

In the meantime my sorta updated masterlist is here

#hyunjin smut #felix smut #hwang hyunjin smut #lee felix smut #skz hyunjin smut #skz felix smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids felix smut #skz smut #stray kids smut

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer NSFW Profile

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, non/dub-con, manipulation, I know I might break some hearts but I actually think Chrollo is very vanilla, loud sex, begging, h*nd holding, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unethical usage of a copying nen ability, masturbation, stalking, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

HABITS:

Generally speaking, sex hasn’t been a huge part of Chrollo’s life. Of course, being a man with charisma and questionable goals, he’s had his fair share of partners to woo and use for information, sneakily extracting names and facts from them as he kisses and touches them, a husky, whispered question of and where might those gemstones be exactly against his temporary lover’s lips seeming strangely erotic, though the intent is anything but.

He’s never really viewed sex as something meaningful; rather, it’s simply a tool, a means to an end for whatever it is that he wants to steal next, and thus it’s never been much of a concern. Why should it be, when Chrollo finds connections and genuine human interaction something of a chore, unless it’s towards his own Troupe members?

Sex is a means to an end, and while there’s something strangely alluring about the idea of having sex for pleasure, he’s not one to simply go out and find a hookup to relieve himself. He likes to think he’s more refined than that – besides, while he isn’t especially wearing of intimacy or touching others, he doesn’t want to touch anyone he isn’t at least needing to, for some job or another. Casual sex just isn’t his thing.

Of course, then you come along, and just with everything else in his life, you’re to blame for his sudden change in opinion, his sudden changing belief that maybe, just maybe, sexual desire and intimacy has more of a purpose than he originally believed.

It’s not instantaneous, his desires to be touching you and making you moan so prettily and feel your skin against his. He doesn’t see you and immediately imagine bending you over and fucking you until you’re sweating and panting and spent. He doesn’t immediately imagine spreading your legs and getting you gripping at his hair, your pretty slick smeared all over his lips.

It’s not immediate, but rather a culmination of his obsession with you deepening over time. It takes him a long time to develop his feelings for you, and even longer to make sense of them – he’s not particularly hostile towards them, but it takes a while for his obsession to fully set in, for him to realize that he wants you in a romantic, genuine way. It will be a solid few weeks after his obsession form for him to get to the point where he’s fantasizing not only about the way you’d smile at him and softly sigh as he reads passages of his favorite gothic poems to you, but also about the way you’d quote certain stanzas as you kiss his neck, run your fingernails against his back, tug at his hair and keen his name.

It’s slow going, and to be honest Chrollo doesn’t even really notice that it’s happening until he’s suddenly so pent up that he just can’t take it, his hand itching to reach down and quell the dull throbbing coming from between his legs.

He’s never been one to masturbate much, the act seeming tiresome and without little reward, and as a result he’s more curious than anything that you’ve managed to inspire within him such primal urges, animalistic desires to see you stuffed full of his cock, cum leaking from your spent, sore pussy, your eyes dazed and hazy as he kisses you breathlessly.

He’s impressed, more than anything, but Chrollo isn’t too surprised once he thinks about it – you’re something of a breath of fresh air to him, someone real and interesting and oh so intriguing, so why wouldn’t he want to fuck you until you’re crying?

Why wouldn’t he want to map every inch of your skin out with his lips, feel your muscles clench and stiffen up under his fingertips?

He’s mildly surprised by your ability to essentially get him horny, and while it doesn’t happen too often (maybe two or three times per week), it’s still sizeable – and so is the amount of time that he begins spending in the company of a candle, a novel, and symphonic music in the background, blending in with the airy gasps and groans of the evening.

When it comes to actually touching himself, Chrollo has a bit of a dirty secret; his nen ability (and its extensions, of course) comes in handy to the extreme in a lot of ways regarding you, but as soon as his more sexual desires towards you begin emerging, he’s suddenly so grateful for the sheer amount of nen abilities that he’s accumulated over the years.

That is, he’s particularly grateful for a certain one he picked up towards the beginning of the Phantom Troupe’s existence: an ability allowing partial recreation of an individual’s body parts, up to the whim of the wielder.

Guilt has never been something he’s given too much thought to, and so as he lights the few candles surrounding his place at the edge of the queen sized bed he's used the last few evenings, he merely closes his eyes and smiles, the aroma of a blissful, peaceful evening settling around him, the feeling of moonlight hitting his pale features and the crackling of the flames relaxing his body and preparing him for the next few events.

Chrollo is nothing if not a man of culture, and so as he carefully removes his jacket (folding it on top of the Victorian style chair in the corner of the room) along with his pants, he lets out a small sigh and grabs the book laying atop his nightstand, the golden cover with its black lettering making a small shiver run down his spine.

The book is, admittedly, a bit more graphic than his normal tastes, but there’s something about the way the narrator describes the female lead that makes his mind immediately shoot to you – something about the description of her hair, her body, her mannerisms, her everything, though Chrollo could say without a hint of hesitation that you were still better in every possible way. He’s read the novel dozens of times; it’s a classic, cliché love story of a dashing, mysterious man who swoons a sweet, traditional daughter of some nobleman, their romance dark and swift and taboo.

It reminds him a lot of his situation with you, really – he’s the handsome, dark man who comes and sweeps you off your feet, tempting you into leaving your good-girl, righteous persona and instead letting him taint you. Just the thought gets him throbbing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and wills himself to calm down, to not ruin the ambiance he’s diligently set up for the night.

He flips to the marked section towards the middle of the book, the chapter detailing the night of passion and romance that ensues between the two characters. He’s quick to begin pouring over the words, and though he’s read this multiple page passage easily hundreds of times, the image still comes together in his head as if it’s fresh – the woman pinned below the man, the collar of her silky, white nightdress pushed down to just above her breasts, collarbone exposed along with her neck, half lidded eyes staring up at the lead while she gulps and breaths a bit raggedly.

Her wrists are beside her head, her whole body open and exposed for his future pleasure, and immediately he’s imagining you in a frilly, white nightgown, the material short and sheer and making you look angelic, like something for him to ruin.

Chrollo licks his lips, eyes still rapidly scanning the page as a hand snakes down to the slowly stiffening length resting against his thigh, the tip turning a deep shade of red, the trimmed forest of black hair standing out against the pale skin surrounding. A brush of his fingertips against the sensitive base has him exhaling slowly, the fantasy of the heroine’s knee slightly rising to brush against the lead’s clothed cock making a blush rise to the back of his neck, images of the way you’d bite your lip and whisper his name making him feel hot, every nerve on fire as the excitement and anticipation of pleasure – of you – rolls through him.

He knows the passage by heart, knowing every event taking place between what he pretends to be you and himself, his own imagination even filling in the details, imagining little additions to the plot that the book doesn’t even mention – you whispering his name and tracing the tattoo across his forehead, the feeling of your soft fingers against his skin making him groan ever so lightly. And with that thought in mind, he’s gently bookmarking and placing the book back on the stand, instead taking a deep breath, black eyes appraising his throbbing cock desperate for attention and stimulation, your attention and stimulation.

He spends a moment stroking himself, the pulls of his wrist languid and slow, just barely enough stimulation to feel good – hesitant, almost, like he imagines you being. Would you be nervous, the first time you see him naked? He likes to imagine you’ve never been with a man before (though he knows it’s likely untrue), or at least that you’ve never cared so much about pleasing one, about making him feel good and pleasured and satisfied.

(He decides you would be a bit anxious – your touches small, unsure, your pretty eyes always flicking back up to his, your soft lip caught between your teeth, your thumb just barely brushing over his tip and making him murmur your name with a slightly strained voice.)

He’s quick to pull up his book of nen abilities, flipping through the pages until he finds the correct one, the familiar black lettering describing the ability making him shiver in anticipation. It’s easy to conjure up the familiar image of your face in his mind, the corresponding physical image appearing before him immediately, and as he opens his previously closed eyes, he sucks in a sharp breath at the image of you, your lashes and cheeks and pretty eyes staring up at him.

It’s perfect – a complete replica of you, down to every last mole, hair, and scar decorating your face. It’s a bit disorienting to see a version of just your head and hair floating, your eyes gorgeous yet lifeless, muscles unable to move freely on their own, but Chrollo moves past it quickly – how can he not, when you’re right there, so pliable and beautiful and for his use?

He swallows harshly as his free hand comes down to lightly run over your strands of hair, the texture familiar and pleasing to the touch, and he watches with unblinking eyes as he slowly pushes your head down, further until your unfocused eyes are level with the now pulsing erection sitting between his legs.

He bites his lip as he recalls the words of the passage, the eloquent language not diminishing the meaning behind the words. She kneeled before him, a servant to her master, lips parted and eyes appraising him as if he were a work of art, the single most valuable thing to have graced her gaze.

He imagines the way you’d stare at him, your eyes raking over his sculpted chest, the ‘v’ of his navel, your tongue flicking out over your lips as you appraise the pale length of his cock, the soft, smooth set of balls attached.

He hopes you’d be impressed, but impatience gets the better of him as he once again moves your head further forward, so that his tip brushes against your lifeless lips.

They’re cold, a stark difference to what he’s sure is an inviting, riveting, and wet mouth you possess, but he’s in no position to complain – certainly not when he remembers how the woman swallows him as if he were the most divine, succulent meal, savoring his taste as if it were her last.

It’s difficult to recreate the scene with your unresponsive mouth, but he’s carefully pulling your lower jaw down, your lips parted and tongue lolling out as he slowly, ever so fucking slowly, pushes inside, the small groan fighting its way up his throat telling of how even your cold mouth can affect him.

He shivers, the sensation climbing up his spine, and his fingers gently scrape your scalp as he gets a good grip, his head lolling back slightly and his eyes closing as he begins moving your head up and down, up and down, your cold saliva coating his length as he sighs and whispers your name under his breath.

The music in the background is soft, romantic, orchestral and something Chrollo very much imagines fucking you to. He likes to imagine the way your moans and breaths would blend in with the melodies and crescendos – though, the sounds you’d make when he’s got you creaming all over his fingers and cock would drown out any sort of background music, he’s sure.

Once again musters up more aura, conjuring up a replica of your hand that he quickly intertwines with his own, his fingers joining yours in shakily holding up his nen book. The pace is slow, soft, the moment feeling sweet yet erotic, and as he opens his eyes and stares half liddedly down at your unseeing eyes and unresponsive mouth, Chrollo curses, a small l-love, you’re so beautiful…

His fingers tighten around your hair as he comes closer, the book’s scenes flashing through his eyes as he picks up the pace of his wrist, your head coming down over his throbbing, sensitive skin quicker, the sensation climbing and climbing as his breath steadily gets harsher, soft groans tumbling past his now puffy and overbitten lips, the light flush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose almost endearing.

He’s fairly quiet, only the occasional deep groan or murmur of your name, and as he gets closer, his grip around your fingers tightens, his breathing getting more ragged and uneven. His complexion reddens, his skin shining with a light sheen of sweat, abs clenching and twitching as the pleasure grows stronger, more acute, the feeling of you and your spit and your soft skin only spurring on the twitching of his cock.

The music climbs to a crescendo, his eyes peeling open to see the way your lips suck him in again and again and again, his cock glistening with spit and his hips bucking to get even deeper inside you, the visual of him fucking your face just too much too much –

He’s coming with a strangled gasp of your name, dark eyes blowing wide as his hips start thrusting on their own, plunging forward and down your throat, untimed and uneven.

He imagines the way you’d gag, your throat tightening up and your pretty eyes dotting with tears as he shoots load after load of watery, semi-bitter cum down your throat, the thought only making his hips jerk harder, his body spurred forward by the motivation to get as much of his cum as deeply down your throat as possible, to claim you as his in the most carnal, natural way.

He’s panting by the time the feeling dies down, a few strands of his carefully gelled back hair loose and framing the pale skin of his forehead and the tattoo decorating it. Beads of sweat frame his temples, his chest heaving still, his nipples hard and pebbled in the cool air of the bedroom.

It takes a moment for him to slowly regain his composure, giving your floating facial replica a gentle, long kiss on the forehead, his eyes fluttering closed and eyebrows scrunching up as he kisses you harder, more fervently, more desperately, trying to express every ounce of love and appreciation and want he has for you, even if it’s merely a cold, carbon copy of you that he’s kissing.

Then, he’s shutting the book and watching you disappear, a cold, familiar sense of loneliness settling into his chest.

The music is still on in the background, lulling him into a relaxed state as he lays on his back, body nude while he thinks back to the way the novel describes the post-sex cuddling, soft touches and sweet, affectionate words, lulled promises of loving each other forever, claims of ownership and commitments to stay together.

He sighs softly, the faintest smile gracing his lips as he imagines the way he’d hold you, your sweaty bodies pressed against one another, cum seeping from your cunt as you clutch onto him, your hair tickling his chin and neck, your soft breaths as you drift into sleep, feeling safe and protected by him…

Occasionally, on nights where he feels particularly restless for you, where the stress of running a wanted criminal group begins to get to him, he’ll conjure up your full body, and while it’s cold, unresponsive and unable to speak or look at him, it’s enough. Cuddling you, kissing your freezing skin and running his fingers over your jawline, collarbone, your supple curves is enough to have him slowly drifting to sleep, secure in your arms and dreaming of the day when you’re finally there to enact the scenes of his romantic, smutty novels with him in person, just as you should be.

(He’ll never actually fuck your nen-conjured self, however. He feels it would be crossing the line – as if fucking your mouth isn’t – and although it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as the real you, he wants your first time together to be special, to be a true exploration of each other’s bodies and genuine reactions. So, rest assured, he doesn’t use the fuck doll he makes of you as a stand in for actual sex – he’ll just use your hand, or your mouth, or your breasts, or your thighs. Never that perfect cunt between your legs, the one that makes his mouth water and his fingers twitch.)

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Collarbone

In a lot of ways, Chrollo is a traditional man. Surely not with his profession, nor the company he keeps, and certainly not the way he feels for you – but still, some aspects of how he views intimacy are very classical.

That is, while he adores the sight of you in revealing, slutty clothing, with your tits nearly bursting out of the pathetic, stringy bralette and your pretty, puffy lips clearly visible through the sheer thong, there’s an appeal to the more sensual parts of your body that aren’t as oversexualized.

Specifically, Chrollo finds himself drawn to your chest – of course, your breasts are alluring and wonderful and fit in his hands so very perfectly, but his favorite spot of all is right above them.

The expanse of your collarbone is a sight that always manages to catch his eye, his dark gaze lingering on the symmetrical, pretty bones. He likes to trace them with his finger, his touch light and soft but insistent, running over the lines and pressing his thumb into the dip in the center.

It doesn’t matter if your collarbone is prominent or not – there’s just something about the intimacy of it all that makes him giddy, the fact that no one except him gets to feel this part of you making his possessiveness flare up and shivers race up his spine.

When he’s kissing you, his lips always find purchase there, traveling down your neck and the juncture of your shoulder, before settling heavily against your collarbone, soft lips pressing kisses and hickeys and biting against the skin.

When he’s pressed you up against the wall, his figure looming over you and his presence making you feel small and weak, he’ll leave a hand at the base of your throat, the heel of his palm pressing against your collarbone so that he can feel your pulse, feel the way you breath, feel you you you.

You’ll often wake up after nights of long, passionate fucking (love-making, he likes to say, though the way he loses control after his first orgasm and fucks you so hard it nearly hurts really only resembles an animal, not a man) with dark marks all over your collarbone, the entire area bruised and swollen and aching, a constant reminder of Chrollo’s presence.

When he kidnapped you, it was a very spur of the moment, rushed affair, and as a result you weren’t able to bring any of your own clothing – which means, outside of just roaming around naked (something that Chrollo certainly wouldn’t argue against), you’ll be left to dress with whatever he deems appropriate.

More often than not, that means shirts with very low necklines, off the shoulders, or with wide necks that show off your collarbone.

(It also means skirts and dresses, sheer tights or thin materials, things that show off your thighs and the curves of your legs – Chrollo’s second favorite spot on your body.)

You’ll catch him staring idly, his eyes hyperfocused on the area even when you’re speaking to him, and sometimes you can even actually see the way he zones out ever so slightly, an internal war taking place inside him because he wants to hear what you’re saying and watch your lips as you speak to him, but he just can’t stop staring at where he’d left a large, prominent hickey on the right side of your collarbone, feeling your pulse under his lips while he made you cream and squeeze and come all over his fingers, just for him.

He thinks you’re beautiful, and even if you aren’t, Chrollo finds your body to be elegant, truly a work of art, and your collarbone is the crowning jewel of said art.

So don’t be surprised when he’s forcing you to wear chokers and tight necklaces, the combination of the jewelry and the sleeveless top leaving the expanse between them open and vulnerable, perfect to suck on and kiss.

He’s just in love, and is it so wrong to find your body perfect, wonderful, so damn alluring that it drives him insane?

His fingers

From the moment his sexual urges towards you begin, his fantasies tend to revolve mostly around using his hands to please you.

Of course, he likes the idea of using his mouth on you or stuffing you full of his cock, and those fantasies are most definitely present, too.

(As are the ones where you’re pleasing him – he has to be careful with these fantasies, though, because if he’s in public, any thought of you dropping to your knees for him or pressing your pretty tits together and moving them up and down his cock gets him hard immediately, his orgasm already halfway there from just the thought of you wanting him to feel good.)

The majority of what he imagines in detail is really just him working at your body with his hands. They aren’t too terribly veiny, but they’re the perfect amount, just enough to get your gaze lingering on them, and seeing the way the tendons and muscles flex when he moves will make your throat feel dry.

Even the way his hands are connected to his forearms, veins dancing up the expanse of his pale arms can get you staring, embarrassment making your neck feel hot when he catches your gaping with a knowing look, that prideful, cocky smirk on his face making you feel hot in anger and a bit of excitement.

(He’s noticed your staring, and makes it a point to roll up the sleeves of his shirts to expose his wrists and forearms, even purposefully flexing the muscles when he sees your eyes on them, his own gaze eagerly examining your face for even a hint of awe, or attraction, or enjoyment.)

But the real draw of his hands are his fingers; they’re pale, nimble and surprisingly smooth, given his past and occupation, and they’re long. They’re always cold, the feeling making you shiver, and Chrollo has them pressed against you as often as possible.

He’s touchy, really, and while this often manifests as his hand sitting on the small of your back or your shoulder or brushing against your cheek, this habit certainly doesn’t change in the context of intimacy and sex.

When he’s got you underneath him, staring up at him with wide eyes and your lips all swollen and bruised from his harsh kisses, he’s immediately touching you, his hands coming up to rip off the shirt he’d picked out for you this morning, tearing the flouncy skirt he’d helped zip you into cleanly in half in his desperation.

He can’t control himself, really – he’s gripping at your thighs and the fat of your stomach, squeezing and kneading and wanting, and while that entertains him for a while, eventually he’ll be nudging your legs apart, fingers immediately tracing up the insides of your thigh, tickling you and making you suck in a breath as he gets closer and closer to where you need him. (Or, at least, where he thinks you need him.

He’s convinced he knows your body better than you do, though, so any amount of denying this claim will result in that same, familiar patronizing smile and a soft murmur of it’s okay, darling, your body says what your mind won’t.)

He likes to tease you, even though it ends up teasing him too, by pressing feather-light touches against your folds and sensitive clit, dark eyes flicking between your cunt and your face, eagerly taking in every expression and sound you give him.

He’ll ask you if you want more, for you articulate what you want, all because he needs to hear you say please Chrollo, I need your fingers inside, I want to feel you fuck me with your fingers! Eventually, though, his patience will snap, and he’ll push them inside, listening to your little gasps and moans as he immediately curls them, rubbing and pressing against the spots he knows make you moan and writhe.

He’s unfairly good with his fingers – he’s got the pacing and motions down perfectly, his stamina high enough to keep going throughout the entire night.

He’s always got a finger steadily working at your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles against the sensitive area until you’re coming for him, and while a lot of his desire to make you feel good genuinely comes from the place of wanting to please you, a lot of it is selfish, too.

By constantly stimulating your clit or loosening you up with his fingers, he’s making sure you’ll enjoy him, that when he’s fucking you and stuffing you with his cum, you’re wet enough and receptive enough, and god, the feeling of you coming on his cock, the constant pressure against your clit tipping you over the edge?

Well, don’t blame him when he’s gasping into your ear, a strangled sort of noise that almost sounds like your name, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you, before you feel warmth spilling into you, his black hair tickling your cheeks as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

DRIVE:

In general, Chrollo’s libido isn’t the highest. Obviously, he desires you sexually and loves to kiss you, touch you, fuck you, make you scream his name and clutch onto him like you’ll otherwise die, but he doesn’t need to be in bed with you at all times. He doesn’t have to be making you cream and stuffing you full of his cock, fingers and cum every day.

(Every other day is ideal, or – if he’s particularly stressed or busy – maybe every two days, but that’s pushing it.)

No, Chrollo isn’t that sexually driven – though, he is that clingy, even if he’s good at not showing it. In general, there’s something about you that makes Chrollo feel, and he’s found that any sort of physical contact brings this strange, fluttering emotion in his chest, one he’s fairly sure is love – which ultimately results in the conclusion that in order to feel good, wanted, loved, touching you is something that he must do often.

The reality is that he’s never really had a partner, someone to give and receive genuine love and affection with, and the moment that he realizes how wonderful a hug can feel or how good of an experience simply locking pinkies can be, he’s hooked. Suddenly, those cliché, overt couple actions that used to intrigue him in a clinical way are much, much more interesting, the idea of wrapping his arms around your waist enticing in a way he can’t quite describe.

From pretty much the beginning of your time as his captive, Chrollo will be forcing affection onto you. It’s little things, mostly – things that make your skin crawl because they’re so innocent and sweet and pure that it makes you sick.

He’ll gently intertwine your hands with his, staring down and marveling at the sight of your fingers wrapped around his own, your smaller hand looking perfect against his.

He’ll press a kiss to your cheek or forehead after he compliments you (though, the compliments are always a bit strange – slightly threatening, or too specific, or just weird).

Of course, while this affection and surplus of physical contact is generally innocent, slowly Chrollo’s tastes and urges begin to change slightly, going from wholesome, sweet acts to more questionable touches, actions that have you slightly cocking a brow, slightly not comfortable with the implications of his behavior.

Because really, while you’ll likely be just fine with him lacing his fingers with yours (though, it’s likely that you’ll be less happy with it and more just complacent, figuring that with his criminal status and abilities, there’s far worse he could do to you), things will get a bit complicated when his hands start resting at your waist, dipping ever so slightly lower to your hip, his fingers pressing just a bit tighter against your skin than you’re comfortable with.

What starts out with a mostly tolerable chaste kiss to the cheek will turn into his lips against yours, his tongue running along your lower lip, a small groan tumbling into your mouth as he forces his tongue inside, running it along your teeth and coaxing your own tongue to participate.

What begins as a simple pair of hands resting against your shoulders will become him running them down the length of your sides, thumbs pressing circles against the area right underneath your breasts, those dark eyes seeming to shine with something that makes your breath hitch.

Because really, while Chrollo does absolutely bask in the innocent affection he can garner from you, there’s just something about you that makes his more natural urges kick into gear, the area between his legs feeling warmer, more insistent, more desperate the more he kisses you, the more he holds you and whispers to you that he loves you so much my dear, won’t you let me show you the extent of my feelings?

However, Chrollo is a smart man – when it comes to actually having sex or any sort of intimacy on the same level with you, he’s willing to be patient.

He doesn’t want to force you into anything, to make you uncomfortable or dislike him, to reverse any progress he’s made in getting you to fall utterly, completely in love with him, so he steels himself, mentally reminding himself every time he sees your plush thighs that he must wait.

He’ll chastise himself for almost losing control when you stretch, the sliver of exposed skin of your stomach and your cute little grunt nearly making him throw caution to the wind.

He has remarkable self control, and while you likely won’t know it, you’ll be seeing it in action nearly every moment he’s around you, especially when you’re already doing something affectionate, like hugging or sitting in his lap.

(He’s the one that’s forced you into these things, of course, but it doesn’t matter – if you make any sort of movement that isn’t prying him off or swatting his hands away, Chrollo considers you as being willing, happy, enjoying touching him, and the thought makes this pleasant, warm feeling bloom in his chest.)

He’s working incredibly hard to not push too far, but after some time of you not seeming to come around, not voicing any desire to go further, Chrollo decides he must resort to certain measures in order to speed up your progress.

Thus, he begins subtly trying to plant the idea in your mind, trying to tempt you into admitting that yes, you want him to reach underneath the frilly, white shirt he provided to you and cup your breasts, to roll your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, to feel you shiver and hear you sigh against his lips.

He wants to lay seeds in your mind so that you’ll come to the conclusion sooner that you want him to rest between your legs and use that talented, smooth talking mouth to make you talk, to hear you babble and cry out his name.

He’s talented at being discreet, and so as he moves his hands to rest closer to your ass, squeezing the plush of your thighs, leaving fluttering kisses against your neck, he’s hoping you’ll slowly come to the conclusion on your own, your own body and desires betraying you.

And quite honestly, while you’ll likely be uncomfortable at first, confused and a bit scared, eventually it’ll work – after all, charisma is something Chrollo possesses in mass quantities, and while you’re obviously not happy that you’ve been kidnapped, that the leader of a mass group of international criminals is holding you in his lap and nuzzling against your mouth, whispering to you that you’re so lovely, won’t you say my name darling, it’s difficult to not let the ideas form, the lack of human contact forcing you to imagine paths you rationally have no desire to.

It’ll make you feel dirty, like you’re betraying yourself and letting Chrollo win, but he’ll ultimately get exactly what he wants – he’s observant to a tee, and so once he notices the way you start clenching your thighs together ever so slightly as he tells you that he’d love to take care of you tonight, he’s inwardly smiling, pride swimming in his chest because finally, finally you’re beginning to be affected by the subtle touches and words, things that could leave you second guessing, the possibility that maybe he wants to go further unrelenting in that sweet little head of yours.

And so, as he begins probing you, asking you how you’re feeling, if you’re satisfied, if you’re feeling like I give you everything you desire, he’s waiting with baited breath for you to embarrassedly admit that you want more, that you want something only Chrollo can give to you.

He’ll goat you into admitting it, telling you to be more specific, to tell him exactly what you want, because otherwise he won’t know, and then he can’t improve, now can he?

He’s calculating, smart, analytical and damn good at getting what he wants, and so ultimately you’ll cave, admitting that you want him to fuck me please, I just – just please…

He won’t outwardly be affected, but just know that the speed with which his erection makes itself known is directly tied to you, the eagerness of his body and his movements to undress you betraying him.

And as he starts breathing a little heavier, stripping you of your clothing and his as well, it becomes hard to miss the way he’s eager, anxious, frantic to touch you.

You’ll see the signs of months of repressed sexual tension, months of desiring you but needing you to consent first, even as pressured as your admittance may be.

But in the end, does it matter?

Because when Chrollo’s hovering over you, those dark eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that’ll make you shiver, you’ll feel oh so taken care of, the small signs and subtle pushes making you insatiable for something you didn’t even know you desired.

And Chrollo will be happy to keep providing for you – what kind of lover would he be if he didn’t? Besides, no one else canmake you feel like he does – not even you – he’ll make sure of it.

You only need him.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Loud Sex

Generally speaking, Chrollo is a quiet man. He’s polite and personable, yes, but he doesn’t bother with unnecessary chatter – when he speaks it’s purposeful, calculated, commanding, and this is true even when it comes to you.

You make him feel the closest he’s ever felt to being nervous, but he’s still not especially loud around you. He never shuts up, that’s true, always asking you questions and telling you about his day, about a flower that reminds him of you (a petal or two was missing, making him think of how you aren’t truly complete unless he’s with you), or even, on rare occasions, telling you a reason why he’s in love with you.

(It’s not as romantic as it sounds – the way he speaks about romance is too clinical, and the reasons he’ll give you are far too specific and detailed to really make you feel good.)

So yes, he speaks often, but he’s not loud.

And during sex, this stays true – the most you’ll get out of him is a low groan and a few heavy, drawn out sighs, or a few chants of your name when he’s getting close and he’s particularly pent up. He’s still not quiet though – he’s talking the whole time, dirty talk spilling from his lips about how you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re falling apart around my cock or that he loves when you moan, can you feel how I’m throbbing inside of you? It’s all for you, does it feel good to know you’re affecting me like this?

His voice is always sultry, always whispered directly into your ear, and while his particular brand of dirty talk is, more or less, mediocre (it’s always too long and makes you think too much; you’d prefer something shorter, something more explicit, something coming from anyone aside from him), Chrollo likes the concept of sex not being quiet. Specifically, he likes when you fill in the silence.

There’s something about the noises you make that make him absolutely feral – similarly to his curiosity about you in everyday life, he wants to understand you sexually. He wants to hear every sound you have to offer – he needs to understand what’s causing you to make that noise and how to keep you making it. He needs to hear every little thing, to have a mental catalogue of the different noises and cries he can pull from your pliable body.

It doesn’t matter if you’re naturally loud or quiet – he will be expecting you to put on a show for him, your body a canvas for him to create a masterpiece on, your every gasp, moan, and sigh a paint stroke that eventually comes together to form you, a piece of art Chrollo wants to keep stolen away from the world forever.

He’s not particularly shy about this desire of his, either – it’s very easy to tell that he’s striving to get you to moan for him, because you’ll feel his fingers work in that certain way, grinding and rubbing in that particular spot, those dark eyes wavering in excitement because he absolutely loves the way you sound gasping his name.

You can tell he’s aiming to get you vocal when he’s pressing his face between your legs, dark hairs tickling your thighs as he diligently works his tongue against your clit, the sensation partnered with the insistent thrusting of his fingers inside you not stopping until you groan his name, and then only getting harder, that same motion being repeated over and over because he needs to hear it again.

He’s like an addict, really – once he hears a noise he finds pleasant (every noise you make, really), he’s trying everything in his power to get you to make it again, wanting to have auditory evidence (to match the slick coating his fingers and the smell of your arousal) that you’re enjoying this, that you’re enjoying him and the way he’s touching you. It’s selfish, really, because while giving you pleasure is great and brings you a step closer to desiring him as he desires you, it quells his possessiveness.

It makes him feel good because it’s proof that he’s affecting you, that the motions and pleasure his body is bringing you is making you feel good, that your brain is mush because of him. It’s proof that your thighs are trembling and shaking because of the way he’s massaging and toying with your clit.

It’s proof that your lips are swollen and puffy and parted because of the way he’s kissing your neck and kneading at your breasts. It’s proof that he’s the only one on your mind, that your every thought is revolving around him him him, that your body and brain can only focus on Chrollo alone.

It makes him feel good, knowing that no other man could possibly be in your thoughts in moments like these, and the more he can get you moaning and screaming and sobbing in pleasure, the higher the likelihood of you focusing solely on him. So really, any time the two of you are intimate, expect your voice to be hoarse the next day – he needs you to be making noise, and he’ll even tell you as much.

He’ll tell you to show me how badly you need me inside you, moan my name and cream on my fingers and I might consider adhering to your wishes.

He’ll tell you to say his name, to tell him that he feels good, and even to narrate exactly what you’re feeling.

(That last one is a favorite of his – it’s so dirty, and it fills him with pride and arousal to hear you say that he feels s’good, your fingers are so big and it’s making me feel so full and good and fuck, Chrollo, please let me come!)

It’s an obsession, truly, one that rivals the one he holds for you – so really, just give him what he wants.

Fake the moans (but be careful, because he can normally tell – though, as he gets closer to his own orgasm, his façade slips and the true lustful, crazed man underneath his carefully constructed exterior rears its head, his snapping hips and messy hair evidence of just how much you affect him. He’s less able to tell apart your fake moans from real ones in these moments, and when he’s right on the edge, any noise from you will have him toppling over, gripping onto you and coming, filling you so fully that it leaks out, white spilling all over your thighs and dripping down his balls.)

He just wants you to be vocal, and it’s in your best interest to meet his demands – the night will be long and very, very painful if you don’t; Chrollo knows your body well enough to overstimulate you past your threshold, the pleasure melting into pain with each orgasm he tears from your body.

Begging

While Chrollo is a difficult man to decipher, one thing you’ll learn about him is that he’s very, very susceptible to your begging.

Of course, he doesn’t always give in to what you want – your escape and freedom, for example, are things he’ll never grant you, no matter how incessantly and long you beg. (And no matter how you offer your body or your fake affections or any number of things.)

He’s stringent about many things, but in the bedroom he’s more or less easy to win over – you just have to know how to do it correctly.

It takes a very specific methodology to get him to listen to your wishes, to have him do exactly what you need in order to feel good. And that methodology is mostly rooted in begging him to do what you want, what you need in order to seek the pleasure you’re wanting.

And frankly, just hearing you say his name and beg him for literally anything has his hips stuttering, arousal spiking through him because god, you must really want him, huh?

There’s something so riveting and right about the power imbalance that you begging him for pleasure sets up; he’s the one in control, giving you what he deems as the right amount of pleasure, controlling your orgasm and deciding when – and if – you’ll be allowed to come.

It’s a power trip that gets his heart racing and his cock flushing bright red, his chest swelling with pride and greed because god, every fucking inch of you belongs to him, and when you acknowledge that it makes him want to fuck you hard enough to make you scream his name.

You’ll need to beg, but even more than that, you’ll need to mix the begging with some sort of compliment. He’s good at telling when you’re lying, though, so the compliment must be somewhat genuine – tell him his fingers feel so good, oh Chrollo you’re gonna make me come, don’t stop! Tell him that he’s so big, you feel so – so big inside me, oh god, please harder, I need you harder!

If you intermix the compliments in with your begs, Chrollo is almost certain to at least consider your wishes, fucking you harder or deeper or angling his fingers just right, anything and everything to get you to keep talking, to keep paying attention to him and telling him how much you need him.

He may not show it, but he really, really wants you to enjoy sex with him, both because seeing you writhe in pleasure gives him pleasure, and also because it means you’re giving him all your focus and attention. So really, if things aren’t going quite as they should to really get you off or to make you feel good, using this master formula will often yield the results you desire – he’s a sap, even if he doesn’t show it, even if he’s not fully aware of it himself.

What he is aware of, though, is this little strategy of yours.

He’s figured it out; you’re not as smooth as you think, and although it boosts his ego and makes his heart race when you compliment him, Chrollo knows there’s an ulterior motive behind your words. And so begins a game of cat and mouse – he likes the way you beg for him, and he doesn’t want you to stop, so he’ll only slightly give in to your request.

This will, in turn, make you beg for more, a new compliment and moans slipping from your lips that get Chrollo gulping and steeling his resolve, his fingers moving slightly to the spot you want them, his pace getting slightly faster, only half-assedly doing what you’d begged for.

The cycle repeats, Chrollo managing to milk you for every last possible bit of praise and desperation for his touch, until he’s eventually giving in, doing things just as you ask for so that you’re a shaking, moaning mess for him, completely falling apart on his fingers. He’s aware of the game you’re playing, and frankly, as time passes Chrollo will begin purposefully not touching you like how he knows you like.

You like to be fingered quickly, with a certain angle and a certain rhythm? Well, he’s finger fucking you at a moderate pace, aiming for a certain spot an inch or so away from your sweet spot, the rhythm just slightly off.

It’ll be enough to get you squirming, your face scrunching up in pleasure and need, your eyes teary and watery as you beg him to go just a hair faster, because it always feels so good when you go fast, please make me feel good, Chrollo!

You’ll go through the cycle three or four times, but he’ll almost always eventually give in – with one big, glaring exception.

Chrollo really likes to bring you to orgasm, it’s true – however, he really, really likes when you beg for permission to orgasm, waiting to fully let go until he’s given you the okay to make a mess all for him.

He wants you to beg him to please let me come, please Chrollo I wanna come for you, all the while he’s holding off just a bit, not quite pushing you over the edge with his thrusts or flicks of his tongue.

He knows your body so well that he’s able to hold you right where he wants you, right on the brink of coming but not quite, just so that you’re unbearably close but needing that one final push. And he’ll milk this out of you, too – he’s unashamed with how he asks you to repeat yourself, to tell him exactly what you need, to moan his name and show him just how badly you want to come for him.

He wants you to be prickling with embarrassment at how unabashedly you shame, loving the way you get all shy and bashful when he tells you to beg me to fuck you into an orgasm, love, and then you’ll get it.

It makes him giddy to see the way you writhe and cry out his name so wantonly, your desperation to find your high trumping over any bit of self-respect you pretend to have, because ultimately you’re choosing him and the pleasure he can give you over this stupid, rebellious side of yourself that’s unwilling to accept his love.

It’s good, a step in the right direction, and by forcing you to beg him permission to orgasm (an orgasm caused by him, no less), Chrollo simultaneously gets to push you a smidge closer to willingly being his, and he also gets to feel you come for him.

(A sight that normally pushes him unbearably close to his own orgasm – just a few thrusts inside you and he’s blowing his load, cum spurting inside you as he gasps your name under his breath, the warmth settling into his stomach both a result of his orgasm and giddiness that you’re starting to come around, aren’t you?)

He just loves when you beg, and although you think you have the power in the situation, thinking you’ve got him figured out, you really, really don’t. You never do, after all, and Chrollo will always outsmart you.

So just tell him you want his cock, beg him to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, and he’ll give you just that – not without a few caveats, though.

Oral Fixation

While your collarbone may be his favorite part of your body, Chrollo really, really grows to love your mouth.

He’s always been entranced by the gentle curve of your lips, the shape playing behind his eyelids as he sleeps at night, driving him crazy when you aren’t yet by his side, making sleep – already elusive enough for him – nearly impossible to find.

(You’ll never know, but on nights where he can’t stop thinking of your lovely lips and how soft and warm and bitable they’d be, he’ll begrudgingly turn to his pillow, his own pale pink lips pressing against the silk, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses hesitant kisses against the material. As he gets more comfortable, he’ll move towards using his tongue; letting it flick out against the pillowcase, imagining it’s actually pressing into your mouth, brushing against your own and coaxing it to rub against his, to suck, his own tongue running along your teeth and reaching deeper and deeper into you until there’s not an inch of space he hasn’t touched and licked and tasted -)

He’s thought endlessly of how you might taste; would your saliva be sweet, or perhaps a nice, neutral taste? He’ll lick his lips while he contemplates, unconsciously salivating himself as he imagines how you’d taste as he kisses you, your scent and feel and everything else about you overwhelming him and making him dizzy in the best possible way.

He’s thought of the way you’d place kisses against his skin, how soft your lips would feel against the hard planes of his chest, against the firm, defined muscles of his thighs, against his neck.

He’s spent many, many nights imagining the way your mouth and lips would worship his body; he imagines you’d start with his own lips, kissing him and moaning into his mouth with fervor, your tongue slipping out to meet his, saliva and spit getting all over your chins because every time he imagines kissing you it’s messy, sloppy and earnest and dirty.

He likes to think you’d move onto his jawline next, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sharp line, tracing it from his chin all the way back to the juncture of his jaw, leading up to kiss and lightly suck at his ear.

You’d take his lobe gently between your teeth, lightly pulling and tugging just to hear him harshly exhale, your tongue even coming up to lick at the shell of his ear, your breath warm and sensual as you breath and whisper his name.

You’d move onto his neck, next, sucking kisses and hickies against the pale skin, the perfect canvas for you to leave your artwork against. He wants you to mark him up – he may be the dominant one in the relationship, sure, and he may the one indisputably in charge of everything, but there’s something endearing about wanting to stake your claim on him. It makes him feel good, desired, possessive over you, and he’ll proudly don his coat with the dark marks all along his neck, perhaps even pulling the collar to the side a bit so that others can see that he’s yours.

Then you’ll move down to his chest; he wants to feel you press fast, quick kisses all over the plain of his chest and abdomen, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs and making him shiver. He wants to feel your lips wrapped around his nipples, sucking and running your tongue over the sensitive skin, leaving a wet pop noise as you pull back.

He wants you to kiss along his thighs, the kisses here more harsh and demanding, maybe even sinking your teeth into his skin just to get his eyes rolling to the back of his head, your sudden display of dominance (or brattiness, rather) making something primal sound from the back of his throat.

And of course, Chrollo’s fixation with your mouth extends towards your ability to suck – before you two reach a point of sexual contact, he’ll firmly trace your lips with his fingertips, only to push past them and situate his fingers against your tongue, a small smile on his lips as he sighs softly and tells you to suck, my love, I’m sure you know how.

He’ll watch with wide eyes and baited breath as you work your tongue along his digits, slipping between them and letting your lips suction, the warmth and wetness making his pants tight and his cock ache, desperation nearly sending him over the edge as precum drools from his tip. And god, when you use your mouth on his cock?

Chrollo is a fairly composed man, yes, but even he can’t keep up that image when you’re sucking on him like you’re trying to suck out his soul, your lips gliding up and down his length, the suction and feel of your tongue rubbing against that sensitive spot on the underside of his tip making his abs clench and contract, his hips getting a mind of their own as they thrust and buck and hump.

He loves when you use your mouth on him, and although he tries to let you set the pace yourself and do things at your own leisure and speed (mostly because he likes seeing what you come up with, how you think he’ll be pleased), he’ll reach a point as he nears his orgasm where he takes over, his hands grasping onto your head and physically moving it up and down, controlling the depth and pace as he groans lowly, his orgasm powerful and heady and numbing as he comes, cum spilling down your throat as he holds you tightly against his pelvis, the short black hairs sitting at his navel ticking your nose.

Another spot that makes him melt when you lick and touch is his balls.

They’re always full, heavy, swollen, aching and begging to be fondled and licked and emptied, and what better way than with your soft, pretty lips and your nimble tongue? He likes to watch the way you stroke at his shaft and move your attention to each sack, tongue coming out to lick and tease, the sensation making him suck in a shaky breath – the sound so quiet you very nearly miss it.

He wants you to take on in your mouth, the warmth making his knees feel weak, the feeling of you lightly sucking making him have to clutch onto whatever surface is nearest just to steady himself.

It’s so dirty – seeing the way your lips stretch to accommodate something so big, and by the time you’re through with them he wants his balls to be positively smothered in your spit, glistening in the light and sensitive to the touch because you’ve worked him up so well.

Of course, Chrollo enjoys when you touch him in pretty much any way, but there’s just something about your mouth that he finds himself gravitating towards, because while it’s intimate and wonderful to fuck you, when you use your mouth – something that feels more taboo, more personal, more sacred – well, that’s a different thing, isn’t it? It means you want him, you want to taste him, that you like his aftertaste of musk and cum to linger in your mouth long after you’ve finished him off.

Chrollo just likes the implications of it all – and seeing you on your knees or feeling your lips against his neck will just make him shiver, excitement and lust and love pooling in his gut, all directly at sweet, perfectly little you.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Holding your hand

It’s not really a kink, but you’ll notice quite quickly into your sexual relationship with Chrollo that he has a habit of always managing to interlock your fingers when he’s fucking you.

The first few times you’ll think it’s sweet, deciding that although it seems out of character for a mass murderer to want to hold you hand when he’s already stuffed as deeply inside of you as possible, it’s kind of endearing.

It seems like a manipulation tactic at first, honestly – you don’t trust Chrollo, not at all, and despite the fact that you’ve caved and given into your bodily desires to have him touch you and pleasure you, you don’t like him. Maybe this is some ploy to get you to fall for him – you’ve seen him reading articles and researching on ways to make women feel loved and valued during sex, his dark eyes diligently and eagerly scanning the words.

(You didn’t bring this up to him, however – the conversation that would’ve ensued would’ve been unbearable, and what would you even say? Chrollo, why do you want me to feel wanted during sex? What are you playing at? Is it not enough for you that I’ve already admitted I want you to touch me?)

The truth, actually, is none of those things – of course, he does view sex as a way to bring you closer to him and get you closer and closer to returning his feelings, but the hand holding actually isn’t something he’s meticulously planned.

The constant stimulation and attention to your clit, he’d known from the beginning – making you come feels good, yes, but he needs you to enjoy it, to realize that he can give you pleasure consistently, that he knows his way around your body. But the hand holding?

Well, the first time he fucks you, he’s genuinely gone – you can’t tell, not really, but from the moment he slips inside of you, he’s fighting to keep his composure, his hips begging him to just ruin you, to fuck into you as hard and fast as he can – even if it means spilling himself inside of you in as little as two minutes. He finds himself drifting away and getting lost in the pleasure that first time, and subconsciously his hand is finding yours, needing something to grip onto, something to ground him and keep him from coming much too early.

His cold fingers lace with your own, pressing your hand against the mattress as he continues humping his hips into yours, and he’ll squeeze your hand when the pleasure gets especially strong, his grip so tight it nearly bruises you.

He needs to hold your hand – it’s comforting, but more than that it keeps him connected to you.

It feels intimate, like something reserved only for you, because even though he’s slept with other women before, never has it been like this. Never has he actively been trying to make them feel good, and never has he actively been hoping they’ll want to fuck him again and again and again, something that he ardently, feverishly hopes you feel.

Holding your hand becomes something of a tradition; it gets easier to not immediately orgasm when he slips inside you, but still his hand moves on its own, capturing yours and squeezing, his dark eyes boring into yours and the veins on his hand standing out.

It’s romantic, he thinks, and even when he’s kissing you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, balls clapping loudly against your ass as he pants and whispers your name under his breath, his hand will stay in yours.

And his grip is tight – you can’t pull your hand out, he won’t let you. You’re not allowed to, because this makes the sex special, intimate, meaningful – it makes the two of you closer, your bodies truly united in more ways than one.

He loves you, he promises, and frankly, it’s best if you don’t mention this habit – he won’t tell you the truth, instead letting a small smile flit his lips and telling you cryptically that it helps me know if you’re feeling good.

That’s bullshit – it’s all for him, but you don’t need to know that gripping your hand like its his lifeline is the only thing keeping him sane when he fucks you – it’s the only thing keeping him from bucking into you like a wild animal, filling you full of cum like some sort of predator.

Voyeurism

Chrollo has a rather nasty habit of watching you. He’s not quite as overt as some other members of the Troupe, but it’s not hard to notice the way those dark eyes are always trained on your figure, observing, scrutinizing, staring with an intensity that makes you feel like a bug under a microscope.

He just finds you utterly fascinating, and he honestly finds himself unable to look away from you. You’re captivating in every sense of the word, and his feelings don’t change when it comes to the bedroom – he’s constantly, constantly looking at you.

The eye contact can be sexy, sometimes, in the right circumstance, but most of the time the intensity makes you nervous, embarrassment settling in your gut because you feel like he can see every inch of you, every imperfection and flaw.

He’s always looking at you while he’s fucking you, those eyes boring into yours as his hips snap into you, faster and faster and harder and harder, watching your face as you get close to coming, seeing how you fall apart for him and cry out his name.

He’s staring and breathing a bit harshly when you’re taking him down your throat, mesmerized by the way your lips slot around him, how his cock appears and disappears again and again, your little gagging noises when you take just a bit too far down making him near feral.

He’s even staring at you while he sucks on your clit, fingers curling inside you as he looks up at you from under his lashes, the eye contact making you shy away and close your thighs around his head, just wishing he'd stop staring at you like you’re some slab of meat for him to devour.

But more than anything, Chrollo likes to observe the way you look when you’re feeling good – pleasure looks good on you, and especially before you allow him to touch you in an overtly sexual way, Chrollo will have you touch yourself for him, all the while he gets a front row seat.

It’s thrilling, the way you spread yourself open on your fingers, tugging your lip between your teeth as you rub small, tight circles against your clit, your thighs trembling from both the pleasure and the weight of his gaze.

He’ll settle himself into a chair at the end of the bed, sitting with his legs crossed and his fingers digging into the armrests, his eyes trained directly on you. He’ll alternate between staring at your face and staring at your cunt, too entranced by it all to fully commit to one or the other.

He likes seeing the way you work yourself, how you flick your fingers or turn your wrist, the pace and tempo and precision of your movements.

He likes to stare at your breasts, watching them heave in time with your chest, seeing your nipples perk up and pebble up, looking hard and pinchable and suckable, like the perfect spot to rest his lips.

He’ll stare at the way your thighs tremble and jerk together occasionally, the pleasure and risqué of being Chrollo’s entertainment making everything feel heavier, stronger, more intense.

He’ll request that you finger yourself or play with your clit or touch your tits, anything and everything because he wants to see everything.

Of course, it’s nothing new to him – he’d watched you masturbate countless times before he stole you away, enjoying the vulnerability of it all, your weak, alluring form totally unaware of the eyes watching your most intimate moments.

But now, now, it’s different – you know you’re being watched now, and that adds a certain layer to your actions that makes Chrollo lick his lips, because while seeing your naked body and hearing your barely contained moans has his cock standing at attention in mere seconds, the fact that you’re reacting so strongly to knowledge that it’s Chrollo staring gets his ears feeling hot and his hands twitching, aching to reach out and touch you.

There’s something alluring about the fact that you’re acting all shy and bashful because it’s him that’s watching you like a hawk, his cock clearly hard against his stomach as he stares, obviously enjoying the sight.

He likes to know that he’s affecting you, that you’re thinking of him, that he’s on your mind as you play with yourself and make yourself come – it’s hot, frankly, and although it’s a test of his self control (one he struggles with far more than you’ll ever know), watching you bring yourself to orgasm is the best foreplay he can imagine.

Because then, he can watch himself bring you to orgasm, and isn’t that just the prettiest, loveliest sight?

Isn’t you falling apart for him, moaning and writhing and scratching down his back, the single most valuable thing on this Earth?

He’s a thief, after all, and anything valuable is his for the taking – including you.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Chrollo is, without a doubt, extraordinarily possessive. You’re completely and utterly his, his property and under his ownership, to the point where he’ll often refer to you as such in passing with another Troupe member, no matter how demeaning and belittling his hummed response of yes, she’s my most prized possession may be.

You’re the only thing he’s ever wanted this badly, the only thing he’s ever wanted so much that it physically hurts, and he has no qualms with acting on these possessive urges, claiming you as his and only his.

However, Chrollo presents an odd juxtaposition in bed – while he absolutely does not want anyone else to ever see you in such a vulnerable, intimate position, there’s a certain allure to the idea of fucking you in public that he simply can’t shake off.

Of course, he’s thoroughly unwilling to allow you to be seen by other people, for your perfect, lovely body to be ogled by other human beings, those who are completely unworthy of being graced by your soft curves, your pretty moans, your twitching thighs and dripping hole.

You’re his to ogle and play with and make a mess of, and although the idea of another man watching you fall apart for Chrollo is appealing in its own right, he’d never be willing to stomach the idea of you seeing another man – or another man seeing you – when you’re in your most vulnerable, intimate position.

And these conflicting desires lead him to a sort of problem. On the one hand, he wants more than anything to fuck you in front of an audience, because what signifies ownership more than claiming you publicly, and what more can he do to show the world that you’re his, that he’s made his mark on you and you’ll never be loved by another?

But on the other, he can’t stand the thought of actually fucking you in public, which leads to a compromise – that is, it’s just so easy to spend a night in a bedroom high, high above the streets, the city skyline out the window and from the balcony mesmerizing, the dark night making the lights shine and the people they illuminate shine as well.

It’s not ideal, but Chrollo has found that the only way he can think of to satisfy this intense sexual fantasy with you is to simply fuck you in a space where no one can see you, but you can see everyone – thus, the window of some fancy, swanky hotel should do the trick, right?

Then everyone, whether knowingly or not, will be witnessing Chrollo claim every fucking inch of you, right?

It’s perfect, and something he’s so, so desperate to try out with you – just the thought gets his body feeling hot, his pants uncomfortably tight, and this strong, dizzying excitement brewing in his chest.

“The room is really lovely, Chrollo.” You compliment, appraising the room bathed in maroon and gold, the intricacies of the wallpaper and bed sheets catching your eye. It’s a simple one bed room, an adjoining bathroom to the side, but the real showstopping aspect of the horribly overpriced room is the set of floor to ceiling, pristine glass windows facing the night city, the various buildings too far to truly make out any specifics. It’s situated downtown, but Chrollo has made sure to secure a room on the fiftieth floor – towering above any nearby skyscrapers, thus giving him the privacy he’s been fantasizing of.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Comes his response, smooth and suave, though you think you can hear the smallest smidge of pride.

Making your way towards the windows, you stare across the sleeping city skyline, trying to memorize every detail you can, while Chrollo watches you from across the room, excitement swirling in his chest at the prospect of what’s to come.

He’s quick to join you, standing beside you and glancing towards your awed face, chuckling softly and using his thumb to trace the line of your cheekbone. “You’re staring, love.”

You blink a few times, before throwing him a playful glare. “And so are you.”

He’s silent for a moment, before he leans down to press his lips against your own, his dark eyes fluttering closed. “How could I not, when something so beautiful is standing before me?”

His words are sweet, and they have you bashful despite yourself – something Chrollo doesn’t hesitate to exploit, as he pulls you in deeper to the kiss. His hand rests snugly at your waist, the other coming up to cup the back of your neck, his lips working faster against your own, though the kiss is still softer, less insistent.

That changes quickly though, as your hand reaches out to brush against the growing bulge resting in his black slacks, a small hum pressed against your lips as Chrollo unconsciously moves closer to the action. Soon you’re unabashedly groping him, fingers idly squeezing and lightly pressing against him as he deepens the kiss, lips getting needier as the minutes fly by, small gasps and breaks for air the only sounds reverberating through the night air of the hotel room.

Insistent hands grasp onto the hem of your shirt, pulling upwards and exposing the expanse of your stomach, the soft skin immediately felt and caressed by the man before you, his fingertips oddly soft for his line of work. He pulls back slightly from the kiss, dark eyes slowly opening to meet your hazy gaze, a small smile quirking on his lips as he moves forward to your ear, breath ghosting against the sensitive skin.

“Undress for me, darling.” His words are sin, his voice smoother than silk, the timbre making a shiver race up your spine as you gulp and follow his instructions, peeling each layer of cloth separating your body from his wandering touch. Chrollo’s dark eyes take every movement in, excitement burning in his chest as your body is slowly revealed to him, your skin soft and supple and touchable.

His fingers twitch.

He’s quick to follow suit, sliding off his jacket, pants and undergarments, leaving him nude in all his glory, prompting you to rake your eyes across his sculpted chest, the lines of his biceps, the sharp ‘v’ of his navel, and of course, the eager, flushed cock pressing harshly against his lower stomach, practically begging for your attention and touch.

“You’re beautiful, my dear,” He starts, approaching you and bringing a thumb up to trace your cheekbone, that same small smile decorating his lips. His lashes are long, easy to see from this distance, and as your lips part to respond, he cuts you off with his thumb placed against your tongue, his eyes shining brighter.

“Why don’t we show the world just how beautiful you really are?” His voice is oddly uneven, the excitement dancing in those dark depths of his gaze making you arch your brows slightly, confusion lacing your features as Chrollo gently pushes your shoulders. The glass hitting your backside is cold, the smooth surface alien against you as you squeak slightly.

“What – what do you mean?” You ask, voice small as he sharply inhales, his other hand coming down to run along your side as his eyes trail along your lips and down to your breasts. He smiles as he takes in your nipples, the skin puckering.

“Wouldn’t it be such a shame to keep a beauty like you hidden from the world? Don’t you want everyone to know,” he starts, leaning into your neck before kissing down until he reaches the juncture of your shoulder. “That you belong to me?”

He bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to get you gasping out and throwing your head back slightly, the glass cold against your scalp.

“Would you like that? Do you want the world to know how much you crave me?” He asks, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip and nod, murmuring out an agreement.

“Can’t hear you darling, try again.”

Embarrassment creeps up your neck as you tell him in a louder voice, “Yes Chrollo, please, want everyone to know that my body was made for you, please!”

He shivers against you, his bare skin against yours making your head spin. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. “Good, because I’m going to fuck you hard enough that no one will question who owns you.”

And with that, he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face with the glass. The material is cold, your nipples rubbing against it and making your thighs rub together at the strange sensation. A sea of lights fall before you, the city glowing from so many meters in the air.

His hands settle at your waist, squeezing slightly before sliding down over your hips, the smooth breath he exhales by your air making you shiver. Every sense feels heightened, and although you know no one can see you from so far below, it still sends a thrill through you at the idea that someone could, if they tried hard enough. Eventually his hands lightly pull at your hips, pulling your ass back towards his pelvis and making you bend over slightly, so that your cunt is poised out for him while your breasts still press against the cold glass.

Chrollo hums from behind you, a finger tracing down your spine and ending up right over your fluttering hole, slipping inside carefully and feeling the way you clench down on him, the sharp little gasp you give him only making another bead of precum drool from his tip, his groin throbbing and pulsing with the need to bury himself inside you, to thoroughly fuck the tight, warm cunt he’s feeling around his fingers.

He pulls them out abruptdly, making you whine a bit and wiggle your hips, the sight forcing Chrollo to tightly shut his eyes, grappling for control over himself. “Now love, in order to let everyone know just who you belong to, you’ll have to be loud enough to hear, yes?”

You nod, muttering something in agreement, but Chrollo cuts you off with a wide smile, his eyes flashing as he grips his cock and lines himself up. “Scream for me.”

And with that he’s pushing himself inside, not pausing for a moment to let you adjust. He’s thrusting into you with force, the sheer strength making you rock forward with each pulse of his hips. Your hands press against the glass, your cheek smooshed against the cold material as you moan and cry out his name, the angle hitting you deep and the eroticism of the whole situation making your head swim.

Chrollo leans in close behind you, his breath already a bit heavy and ragged. “Do you like – ngh, do you like this love? Getting fucked while so many people could be watching?”

You moan out a yes in response, gasping and feeling your whole body shake as his fingers snake between your legs and begin working at your clit.

He laughs breathlessly behind you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot and heavy, and you feel him twitch inside you, his orgasm looming near.

“Let’s give them a good show, yes?”

And when he pulls out a few minutes later, turning you around and letting his cum spraying from his tip and landing on your chest and stomach in ropes, he can only flutter his eyes closed and mutter your name, before peeling them open and exhaling shakily.

He’ll push you right back up against the window, a knee forcing itself between your legs to open you back up again, his cock still hard and insistent and aching to finish inside you this time. Meanwhile, his cum smears against your skin and the glass, leaving a film that makes you shiver – the glass is cold but his cum is hot. You moan as he forces himself back inside you, immediately continuing with the brutal, rough pace he’d taken earlier, determined to let the whole city see how prettily you take his cum inside you this time.

And when you’re done, some forty five minutes later, with two loads of warm, runny cum spilling from between your legs, the smears of his first orgasm all over the glass and your tits will only make him lick his lips, arousal once again simmering in his gut.

Maybe this time the city would like to see how pretty you look when you squirt.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #_chrollo lucilfer #_lee's profiles #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #hxh smut #_hxh

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mightbeimpossiblenotto · 1 month ago

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Song — Oct 5 — @rosekillermicrofic — 1,352 words — Warnings: none I think

Evan, personally, hated the Gryffindor parties, but he attended because Regulus wanted to attend, and therefore their entire friend group had to go with him to support him. They were too loud, there was too much red and gold all around the common room, and too many kind people trying to talk to him, despite his very clear aura displaying do-not-talk-to-me. He typically spent all of his time at these parties hanging quite pathetically off his friends, Dorcas or Pandora or Barty. Regulus was always off with Potter.

It was Barty, that night. Dorcas had wandered off with none other than Marlene McKinnon, and Evan wouldn’t be surprised if they were found together much, much later, with rumpled clothing and swollen lips. Pandora had disappeared entirely, but that wasn’t uncommon for her in a normal situation, let alone a Gryffindor party. So, Evan stuck with Barty, which wasn’t hard as he had positioned himself next to the magicked muggle radio, spelled to play any song the spellcaster wanted. He was hosting a karaoke night of sorts; students came up to him with a song request, he played it, and the student then performed for a small crowd in the room, complete with cheering from the crowd and a broomstick held like a microphone stand by the performer.

Evan was surprised, though, when Barty got up to perform one of the songs himself. He turned back to Evan, sitting alone on the sofa now, to give him a wink.

“Save my seat for me, Rosie,” Barty purred, and Evan did nothing except nod stupidly. The opening to the song had begun playing, and he was still trying to figure out what the hell Barty was up to. Barty had spun to face the room, taking up the broomstick-microphone, and locked eyes with Evan.

I could be the one, or your new addiction

It's all in my head but I want non-fiction

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city

Who can blame a girl? Call me hot, not pretty

Evan didn’t recognize the song, which made his confusion more palpable. Barty was singing directly to him, that much was clear, but Evan didn’t know what Barty wanted from him. He could feel the stares of other students who had noticed Barty’s dedication to him, but he ignored them.

Baby, do you like this beat?

I made it so you'd dance with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

Against his will, Evan flushed. Barty couldn’t possibly mean that he wanted to be with Evan, his best friend, practically his brother to him. It was something Evan had considered, of course (how could he not? — he wasn’t blind, and Barty was the hottest thing on Earth), but he had promptly shoved down any feelings because he knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. He was starting to feel like Barty may be teasing him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

During the chorus, most of the girls in the room got up to do some sort of dance with their arms, forming the letters that Barty was singing. Evan barely saw them, though — his eyes were locked on Barty. He was swaying his hips to the beat, showing off his slutty waist that Evan usually tried his hardest not to notice. But Barty was wearing a tight black t-shirt with low-rise black jeans, which had been driving Evan crazy all night.

Well, I woke up alone staring at my ceiling

I try not to care but it hurts my feelings

You don't have to stare, come here, get with it

No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute

Barty winked at Evan on the last line, smiling salaciously, and Evan summoned the strength not to melt right into the couch. He knew that was true — that Barty hadn’t slept with anyone lately. Probably because Evan hadn’t been able to hide how angry it made him to see Barty paying attention to anyone else. It made him furious, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that he lived in the same room as Barty and had to see every latest conquest out the door the following morning. But Barty had given up his string of lovers, instead choosing to spend his time reading in the common room with Evan or sneaking off to the kitchens to bring them back a snack.

And baby, don't you like this beat?

I made it so you'd sleep with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

On the sleep-with-me line, Barty raised his eye brows significantly at Evan. And, well, there was no misinterpreting the meaning of that one — clearly, Barty wanted to fuck him. And Evan had reason to believe it was more than that. Why else would Barty be spending all of his free time with Evan? He felt the blush from earlier darken, spreading to his ears and down his neck. He hated all of the attention, but watching Barty bask in it was doing it for him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Barty joined the girls in their cheer routine, raising his own arms to form the letters of the chorus. It was unfair the way he made a simple dance look erotic. Despite enjoying the performance, Evan was wishing it would be over with already. He wanted to take Barty directly back to the dorm, while Regulus and their other friends were too busy here at the party.

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

What's it take to get your number?

Hurry up, it's getting cold

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

Well, Evan was beyond ready to fucking “order up” Barty and get him “hot to go,” but the song still wasn’t over. Evan could have groaned as he watched the girls lining up to perform the dance routine again to the chorus. All Evan could do was hope that this was the final refrain and the song would end soon. Already, he was imagining Barty’s mouth on his skin, his hands under Barty’s clothes.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Finally, the melody of the song wrapped up, and Evan sat forward, readying himself to get up off the couch even as Barty walked over to him. As the outro of the song played, Barty spoke.

“Whew, it's hot here,” Barty said, fanning himself with one hand. “Is anyone else hot?”

Evan felt very warm, indeed, but he didn’t give Barty the satisfaction of getting what he wanted. Instead, Evan was sure he was glaring at Barty. But seeing as Barty was grinning right back at him, Evan was pretty sure he knew exactly the effect he had on Evan.

“Woo, you coming home with me?” Barty asked, finally reaching the couch Evan was still sitting on. He waited a beat, and when Evan didn’t stand, he swung a leg over to straddle Evan on the couch. Suddenly, for Evan, all of the other people in the room had disappeared. All that mattered in the world was Barty. “Okay, it's hot. I'll call the cab.”

#barty crouch jr #evan rosier #evan x barty #rosekiller #marauders #slytherin skittles #slytherin #barty crouch x evan rosier #microfic #rosekiller microfic

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httpscomexe · 3 months ago

Text

Forbidden Secret Desire 4

Summary: You finally put all of the pieces together and your pursuer tries to make a move, failing horribly, so you decide it’s the best plan to just escape.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Mentions of hidden camera, forced touch, clueless reader. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000 @cellyx33

Word Count: 3483 (All other chapters here) Chapter 5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire…

“Logan?” You call his name as you barge into his office without knocking, not bothering to have any boundaries since the matter seemed important. You were being watched through a camera for the last two days after all.

“Is Mr. Howlett in here?” You ask after being allowed in the lounge where some other teachers were having their lunch break. You had been searching for him all day, and you haven’t seen him once. You figured you would’ve seen him during third period, since he was supposed to be the substitute the entire week, but looked to no avail. You even asked around, wondering if anyone else had seen him. You were slightly hopeful when a few students claimed they saw him on hall duty during the first passing period, but then you were once again in the dark.

You skipped your fourth period also, hoping you might be able to find him outside in the garden or near the little park in the back of the school. Even searching the greenhouse, but of course. He was nowhere to be found. You knew he didn’t leave anywhere, his truck was still parked in the lot where it’s always parked, so eventually you just gave up on searching for him, and headed back to your room to catch up on any assignments you’d missed throughout the day.

As you entered your room and locked your door, you internally groaned. You weren’t sure what to do about the stupid bear, so you went into your closet to collect it.

“Oh! Mr. Howlett…” You yelp in surprise as you collide with Logan in your closet. “Uh what- what’re you doing in here?” You take a few steps back and cross your arms over your chest.

“I came to check on you, you’ve been missing all day.” He tells you, his voice seemed different, almost more tired or grumpier than usual.

“Oh, yea- I’ve actually been looking for you.” He sets the bear down on your desk, once again facing your bed. “Uh- I actually had a question about-” You look down at the bear, the little red light was gone. “Uh…”

“What is it?” He asks, his voice softening down to normal. But you don’t answer. Instead, you continue to look down at the bear. Its eyes were solid black and the whirring noise was gone.

“Never mind actually.” Your shoulders slump. If the red dot wasn’t there, then how would you prove to him that someone was watching you? Maybe he was the one watching you?

…

Nah. He wouldn’t do that. Right?

“Alright, well…” He crosses his arms, and looks down at you. “Are you sure? You look dumbfounded.” You see his hand in front of you but you pay it no mind, until you feel his index finger under your chin and he gently makes you look up at him and away from the bear. “Is it something about the bear? What’s going on?”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on, the bear is awesome. Everything’s cool.” There’s no fucking way he would’ve put a camera inside of the bears eye. Would he? He wouldn’t. He’s the only one that could’ve. No one else had been in your room before. Kurt has. Yesterday was his first time…

“You’re lying to me, pup. I don’t like it. Clearly something is going on.” Your eyes continue to stare into his, as if you were trying to connect to his soul.

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You chuckle slightly. Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him… Just in case. “I would tell you if there was.” His hand moves, his index finger going from under your chin to gently caressing your jaw before his hand cups your cheek.

“I still feel like you’re lying to me, but okay.” He drops his hand down to his side and stares at you for a moment, now it was his turn to read into your soul.

But the bell rings just in time. “Anyways, I really have to finish some work that I wasn’t able to catch up on today. So I’ll see you tomorrow.” You force a soft smile onto your lips, trying to make everything seem fine instead of letting out your inner I’m being watched! Someone put a camera inside of my bear and has been watching me sleep! Also sometimes it would make this clicking sound so I’m pretty sure they’re also taking pictures of me when I’m getting dressed and undressed and I have NO idea what to do PLEASE HOLD ME!

That wouldn’t be very appropriate.

“Alright. Well, let me know if you need me for anything please. Anything.” He repeats, his finger making its way back under your chin as you freeze and he presses a kiss to your forehead. Well that’s not very appropriate either now is it? “Have a good night, Y/N.” He tells you, before leaving the room. And you stand still in place. For about a solid ten minutes.

Thousands of thoughts race through your mind. Your brain completely detached from what's in front of you as you stare at the wall and picture nothingness. What if he was the one watching you? He wouldn’t do that. Then why was he kissing you? It was just the forehead. It’s still not appropriate, maybe you should tell someone you trust. You only trust him. What about Kurt? And what’s he gonna do? Seriously, you were sure Logan was just being friendly. He’s just as awkward as you. Now if he started going further, then you would worry. But for now, you had other matters to deal with. Including emails and homework.

You sit on your bed and open your computer to once again, another thousand emails from “Erik Lehnsherr,” all asking about things you know everything about. Nanotech, electricity, (Which was a bit personal if you ask me, considering you produce it) and a bunch of other stuff. Sometimes it makes you wonder why he doesn’t just ask google.

After answering a dozen of them, a few of them he decides to send back with a secondary question, before you finally send one last email.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow. This is a lot of typing, so maybe it would be better to ask me some of these things in person? I have a lot of work to do also. So, goodnight!” You tap send, and it takes a moment before the ‘sent’ message pops up on the bottom of the screen. Now you just had to finish your homework. You tell yourself, opening your google classroom and tapping the first assignment. Reading human body language. Great.

“So he was just standing there?”

“Yea, it was so weird…”

“How did he get in?”

“I don’t know, he’s a teacher, maybe he has a key?”

“Still doesn’t explain why he was in your room.”

“He claims he was looking for me, I guess worried?” You explain, shrugging your shoulders with your locker open, Kurt leaning on the one next to you as you both talk back and forth.

“He couldn’t send you an email or a text.” You shrug again and close your locker.

“Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s definitely the one that put the camera in your bear, it’s the only thing that would make sense.” It was now his turn to shrug.

“Oh come on. He’s not like that.” Kurt just stares at you, his head slightly tilted. “Ugh, you’re unbearable. I mean what makes you think he’s smart enough to know how to use a camera?”

“Literally no one else has had access to your room.”

“That’s the only thing that gets me.”

“Okay, then who else is on your list for who could’ve gone into your room, put a camera in your bear, then left without being noticed?” Silence. You obviously didn’t have any other names on your list. It was Wednesday already, and you’d just discovered the camera two days ago, so regardless of who it was, you still had to tough it out for the rest of the week to be able to report anything to Xavier. He apparently has no phone reception in the mountains. “Exactly.”

“What’re you two lovebirds talkin’ about?” Alex and Scott bring you out of your thoughts, Alex with a mouthful of pizza as Scott does the talking.

“I thought you two were out for the rest of the week?” Kurt turns away from you, ignoring Scotts comment. “Something about being disruptive in class?”

“Yea, we’re supposed to be at home but he forgot some books in his room.”

“He forgot them?”

“Yea.”

“Then why are you here?” Kurt crosses his arms, the tip of his sharp tail moving to wag as it glides across the lockers. Why did you never realise he has a tail? Wait… “Looks more like you two are the love birds in this situation.”

“Aww, are you getting mad cause we’re talking about your little girl-”

“Boys!” A female voice booms from the other side of the hall. “I gave you five minutes to collect your- wait, is that a pizza in your mouth! Where in the world- No you get back here!” They both quickly scramble away, and the teachers' heels echo as they pass you and Kurt to follow them.

You sigh. “Okay you make a point, but we should-”

“Report it?”

“No, we should leave it be until Xavier gets back.”

“Okay, what if it goes further than the camera? What if your clothes start going missing..?”

“If my clothes start going missing then maybe I’ll consider doing something. But honestly, it just doesn’t seem like him. Not only does he not seem the stalking type, but he definitely would NOT be able to figure out how to connect the camera to his phone, computer, whatever it is.” You explain quickly, not catching a breath until you’re finished.

“Okay… just.” He takes his own deep breath, looking down at you with soft eyes. “Let me know if you need anything from me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Kurt. You’re too sweet.” You smile softly, softly punching his shoulder before beginning to turn around. “I’ll be in my room, so call if you need to, I’m not busy.” Pushing your door open, you see him leaving the lockers from the corner of your eye before you actually step into your room. Locking the door and then immediately checking every corner of your room to make sure no one was in there, before you finally relaxed. Or at least your body relaxed.

Your mind on the other hand raced with thoughts. What if it’s not Logan, and it’s some creep student. You’d be reporting the teacher who helped you be friends with Kurt. That wouldn’t be nice. On the other hand, what if it is Logan? Then what? You have to prove it to Xavier that it was him. The app on his phone showing the camera and the pictures in his gallery would prove it for sure. You realise he probably would’ve deleted everything by now. As soon as he realised the bear was moved into the closet I’m sure he would’ve gotten rid of the proof.

Your mind races for hours, and before you know it, the sun is down. Your head still pounding with what could be the case and what would happen if you did what, each scenario runs rampant in your head, making you dizzy as you unconsciously moved until you were lying on your stomach, your pillow thrown over the back of your head in attempt to silence the thoughts.

Then you feel a hand on the small of your back, immediately causing you to flinch and sit up on your ass, reading to start kicking the damned asshole that's been- oh its Kurt. Wait…

“Are you okay?” You don’t answer him, you instead spring forward, falling into his arms as a few stray tears fall from your cheeks, his tail moving up in the most attractive way possible to wipe the tears off your cheeks, his arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes you.

You both sit like that for a while, at some point he even moves to lean against your headboard, still holding you in his lap, then his hands move, causing you to sit up slightly, unaware of the way you were positioned on his lap as his hands cradle your face and he looks into your eyes.

“What’s going on?” He whispers softly, not exactly expecting an answer, but figuring your eyes would probably tell him anyway. You sniffle.

“Wait-” Your voice cracks, and you shut your eyes to think. “How did you- when- why?”

“Are you gonna finish any of those questions?” He asks rhetorically, his hands making their way to rest on your thighs. “I came in here like five minutes ago, You weren’t answering your phone and it’s only eight so I got worried.”

“And how..?”

“Honey, I can teleport.” He chuckles, his head tilting slightly, your brain completely ignoring the pet name he’s decided to give you.

“Oh… Yea…” You say softly, and you feel his tail move on your back before it pushes you carefully towards him, his hands moving to wrap back around your waist as he takes you in for another hug, and you rest your forehead on his shoulders. You weren’t crying anymore. Instead, new thoughts ran through your head. He can teleport.

He can teleport…

He can… teleport?

You didn’t know that before. You snap back out of your brain to feel one of his hands on the bare skin of your back, which makes you sit up awkwardly, causing his hand to move across your waist until it's back on your thigh.

“I didn’t know you could teleport.”

“Really? I figured you knew that already.”

“No.” Your voice sounded more stern. He wouldn’t. Would he?

His hands gently move up. His left hand stopping on your wait and his right hand continuing up to your cheek, you also feel something wrap gently around your calf. Something felt wrong. And it makes you feel sick. You clear your throat a little, and try to count to yourself.

Shit… His right hand moves just slightly, his thumb moving softly over your bottom lip as you stare into his eyes, your brows quirked in confusion but they were devoured in tiredness. Then his hand gently cups the back of your neck, and his tail wraps just slightly tighter around your calf. Then he kisses you. Why is he kissing you? He’s supposed to just be your friend. He shouldn’t be doing this. You pull away slightly, but his lips just trail down from your lips to your neck, gently biting at your skin. You open your mouth to say something, but your voice catches in your throat. Then both of his hands gently move down to your waist before he softly pushes you onto your back. NOPE.

You scramble out from under him, but his tail tightens around your calf. “What’s wrong…?” He asks, trying his hardest to sound innocent.

“What do you think you’re doing..?” You finally choke out, pulling again before his tail finally loosens around your leg.

“I just thought-”

“Please get out.” You demand, not letting him finish. Your voice embarrassingly raises a few octaves as you speak. “Now.” Voice shaking, you sit up straight before he finally moves.

“Okay… I’m sorry.” He tells you softly, getting off your bed and making his way to the door, “Goodnight.” He says before finally leaving.

Then you actually catch your breath. What the fuck just happened. He can teleport. Logan. Logan in the morning. Logan…

“Logan!” You barge into his office, but this time he’s there, looking at his computer for a moment before his eyes shift onto you above the screen, barging in with red cheeks and a red nose, and a shaking body. Which is why he stands up quickly and walks towards you, letting him fall into his arms and sob quietly.

“There you go… you’re okay, pup. It’s okay… just breathe.” He whispers soothingly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head as his hand softly runs over your back, trying with his best effort to get you to calm down, and reaching behind you for a moment to lock his door, making sure no one else could barge in. “It’s okay, pup… I’ve got you.” He kisses the top of your head one final time before resting his chin there, his arms still wrapped around you as your own arms are squeezing around his waist.

“Okay…” He whispers again after a few moments of not hearing your sobbing. “Tell me what’s going on?” He gently moves his hands to rest on your shoulders, carefully creating a distance big enough for him to look down at you as you use the backs of your hands to dry your cheeks.

“There was a camera…” You start, actually debating whether or not to tell him. Fuck it. You tell yourself again. “It was inside of my bear's eye, and it was watching me, and at first the whirring sound didn’t bother me cause I thought it was my neighbours, I don’t have neighbours, and the clicking drove me crazy. I couldn’t think, every time there was a click. He said it was you, but you don’t know how to deal with simple tech, I told him that, you were the only other one to touch the bear, and he’s never been in my room before, but he can teleport, he teleported, I didn’t know he could teleport, then I ask him, and he kissed me and-”

“Okay, okay.” He interrupts you finally, placing his palm over your mouth. “So somebody put a camera in the eye of your bear?”

“Mhm, Kurt.”

“Okay…” He nods slightly, squinting his eyes as if to take in the information. “He was taking pictures of you, and whirring and clicking what’s with that?”

“See that’s why I know it wasn’t you… It was the camera making sounds.”

“And Kurt thought it was me?” You nod. “He said he’s never been in your room before?” You nod again. “But he can… teleport?” He finishes, making you nod hysterically.

“And then he forced me to kiss him…” You pout a little, your shoulders dropping as you remember what happened in detail. It disgusted you.

“He…” He clears his throat slightly. “Forced you to kiss him…” His voice deepens, but you don’t notice it as you nod some more. “Should I call him in here?” He shrugs himself a little.

“No, no. No, I don't want to see him.” You move away slightly, freaking out.

“Okay, okay. Pup, hun, come here.” He reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. “If you don’t want me to then I won’t. But you have to tell me what you want me to do.”

“Am I able to get another room?” His jaw clenches slightly as he thinks about it, then he lets go of you and moves to look at his computer. After moving his mouse and typing some things on his keyboard. “So I can’t. I can only see what room students have, you can request it from Xavier though and he will look into it when he gets-” You groan in the middle of his sentence as he moves away from his desk and you land your forehead on his chest. “-back from his mission.” He finishes telling you, gently wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I don’t wanna be alone in my room anymore at night though. What if he comes in while I’m sleeping? Or what if-” He silences you by placing his palm over your mouth again.

“The only thing I can suggest is not sleeping in the mansion until you get a room change.”

“But I’m not allowed to leave…”

“How is Xavier gonna know?”

“I don’t have a place to go…”

“I have a log cabin.” He tells you, making your eyes practically sparkle slightly. “If you’d like, I can take the rest of the week off and take you there. I can put in an excuse for you.”

You think about it, your eyes leaving his eyes as they stare past him.

“You don’t have to of course. It’s completely up to you. But if you really want to get away from Kurt, then come with me to the cabin. I’ll keep you safe.” He tells you, his left arm moving around your waist and his right hand gently tilting your head up so he could look into your eyes.

“Okay…” You whisper, moving closer again to fall into his arms and onto his chest as his arms snake back around you, as he presses one final kiss to your forehead…

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #smut #x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan #logan x reader #logan howlett

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writingwithfolklore · 5 months ago

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Character Deaths

I believe a lot of thought and care should go into killing off characters. I tend to not care as much about books and characters where death is treated like not that big of a deal—where characters die off easily and without much pomp and circumstance. Generally, the more (important) characters you kill off, the less meaning the subsequent deaths will have. With that in mind, let’s get to a few considerations when thinking of killing off a character.

1. Does it make sense in your world/story?

If I open a book about a highschool friendship drama, I’m really not expecting anyone to be in mortal danger, whereas something like Game of Thrones or books that center around dangerous worlds, wars, or people, I’d expect death a lot more.

If a death is too shocking or out of place in the world and story you’ve created, it’s going to do the opposite of what you want and be silly rather than surprising, or feel unnecessary rather than providing an interesting twist.

2. Are there unintentional politics?

This one is big. The very first post I made was about how all writing is political, and this goes doubly for character deaths. For example, say you kill off a character who happens to be the only gay person in the story—or the killer happens to be a minority often stereotyped as aggressive. If your death plays into harmful stereotypes or tropes, consider finding a way to rework the plot to avoid it.

3. Does it have meaning?

Killing off characters for the sake of shock value or because you’re not sure what else to do with them is a surefire way to frustrate and annoy readers, ultimately losing their trust in you as a writer. I have actually put down books that killed off characters I liked because there wasn’t much meaning, consequences, or impact from their death.

Unless you have a specific world that intentionally makes death meaningless, it’s an event that’s going to dramatically and drastically change the people involved, the plot’s progression, and other environmental factors. If you’re not willing to have the impact of the death follow the characters all the way to the end, it might not have enough meaning to carry itself.

4. No one has died unless there’s a body

This is a rule often heard in filmmaking, but I believe applies to any media. Given characters who “die” off-screen tend to show back up later (especially if they’re the antagonist), readers may not buy your well thought out character death if there’s no confirmation of a body.

While showing or having an actual body might be impossible or unlikely in your story, a proper funeral or even credible character confirming the death will stand in here (“he’s dead, Jim.”) Beware relying on dialogue like, “I can’t believe they’re gone,” because characters tend to say this when the person is definitely not gone!

Anything else I missed?

#tw: death #tw: corpse #writing #creative writing #writing community #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #killing characters #character death #major character death

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uglypastels · 1 year ago

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i have to say this, eddie love fucking you when you’re in a messy bun and your glasses almost falling down your nose. Chef’s kiss

Chef's kiss indeed and i hope this is ok, but this gave me major librarian!reader vibes, and I meant to make this pure filth, but as I started writing, I realised that I adore these two wholeheartedly, so please enjoy the fluff fest around it.

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v sex. sex in a public place. unprotected sex (dzon't dzo it). swearing.

masterlist // inbox //

Working in the Hawkins Town Library, you got to be in the presence of almost everybody who lived there, from the youngest readers to the eldest. Everyone needed books for one reason or another, let it be homework research, recipes or just some entertainment. There were the quiet readers who settled themselves somewhere in a corner to spend the rest of the day with their noses in between the pages; the ones who search for hours for the one book they had their mind set on the moment they walked in; the ones that, for whatever reason, forget to stay silent. There were fans of fantasy as well as historical non-fiction, philosophy and romance. There was a place for everybody here.

With such a variety in patrons, it was only natural you grew to have favourites. Some might be more self-explanatory than others. Of course, your heart doubled when Julie came in with her daughter, Sandy [who just turned six!], to pick out a new book every few weeks. Or old man Farrell who already knew all the facts in the books he checked out and was more than happy to share with you.

It could come to most people as a shock then that the person you looked forward to seeing the most was none other than Eddie Munson.

Surprisingly, he could be the definition of the perfect library patron. Besides the fact that he had never been late with book returns, when you started working there, the first few times Eddie came by, he scared you to death—so quiet was he, sneaking around the aisles and up to the counter to check his stacks of books out.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, sweetheart,’ he said as he put the books on the desk.

‘It’s alright.’ You started picking up books from the pile, stamping in the date on the inside sheet. ‘Might have to consider getting a bell.’ You smiled, ‘that way I could hear you coming.’

‘Hmm, too bad I don’t have a bell.’ Eddie clicked his tongue but reached into one of his pockets, ‘but… would these do?’ He pulled out a handful of thin metal chains. They rattle around.

‘Why do you have those in your pocket?’ You asked curiously as you gave him back the books.

‘Always have them on me– I mean, on my jeans, but I take them off when I’m hear. Don’t want to disturb anyone.’ And with that, he gave you a shy little smile that made your heart melt.

‘That is, actually, really sweet of you.’ If only more people were so considerate. ‘Thank you.’

‘Yeah, well, I have my moments.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘See ya.’ You waved as he walked away, barely able to contain the smile on your face that the metalhead had caused.

Not a lot changed since that day, but your and Eddie’s conversations did begin to grow. You’d keep on talking while you checked out his books, sometimes for so long that another patron would have to interrupt to get their books. Then, Eddie would pop by your desk to ask for the location of some particular book— one you had never heard of, in all honesty, but he probably easily could have found it if he bothered to look through the cards.

‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ he’d clear his throat, ‘do you have any idea where I could find Carrots Love Tomatoes?’

‘Sorry?’ You must have misheard the title.

‘Carrots Love Tomatoes: Secrets of Companion Planting for Successful Gardening. It’s for my uncle.’ Eddie would clarify, reading the title out from a scrap of paper he had scribbled on.

‘Right. Do you know who it’s by, perchance?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t.’ He reread the paper. ‘Louise Riotte– shit, I’m definitely mispronouncing that.’ He quickly spelt it out for you.

Well, you had to admit, you weren’t personally familiar with Miss Riotte’s work, but you knew this library inside-out and told Eddie to follow you into the section you thought it most likely to be. The non-fiction section was off in the corner of the library, with only rectangular windows blocks near the ceiling, letting in barely any daylight. The light was, instead, coming from the lamps above you; they flickered and buzzed on the off-moments.

Eddie stayed a step behind you as you navigated through the shelves, muttering the alphabet to yourself repeatedly as you tried to find the RI– shelf. Once you finally found it, you realised it was on the top of the bookcase, where you couldn’t reach it.

‘It’s up there.’ You pointed, thinking that maybe Eddie would just get it himself now. But instead, Eddie offered to pick you up. A bit flustered, you accepted the offer and tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your hips, the way his rings dug into your soft skin. He picked you up, and you grabbed the book quickly. Once back down on the ground again, you handed it over to him. Eddie thanked you with a large smile as he looked at the book.

He frowned.

‘Something wrong?’ You asked.

‘No, no, it’s all good, thanks. It’s just that…I don’t know…’ He looked at the book a bit longer. ‘Oh, you know what? I think I must have read it wrong.’ He looked down at the scrap of paper again. ‘...yeah. That definitely says Catcher in the Rye. Well, thank you anyway, sweetheart. Really ‘preciate it.’

‘You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.’ You laughed.

‘Uhm, I’ll have you know,’ he leaned against the bookcase by your side, ‘that this had actually all been an act of sheer brilliance.’

‘Oh?’ You were leaning against it, too, your shoulders almost touching.

‘Yes. I would say that the way I got you here with me, away from all those people, is MacGyver-level brilliance.’

‘Don’t you think it might have been easier to just… I don’t know, just ask me to meet you here.’ You would have been going on a break soon anyway.

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward to you, ‘Now, what would be the fun in that?’ You could feel his breath on you. The scent of excessive bubblegum chewing greeted you.

‘Fair enough,’ you tried to act cool, ignoring the hot flashes he was causing all over your body. ‘So, why did you want me to come out here? What couldn’t wait until my lunch break, Munson?’

‘Just wanted to say how cute you looked today.’ Eddie smiled, then, as if he remembered something– ‘Oh, and this–’ he leaned in, cupping your face in his hand, kissing you softly.

So, perhaps, some things had changed over time. Smalltalk and jokes at the front desk turned into stolen kisses and hushed laughter in the dark corners of the library. Just as with everything around, Eddie was gentle and soft. His grip on you was there for support, to make you feel how much he wanted you near him.

You pulled away with a small gasp, chest-beating fast, eyes fluttering open.

‘But I suppose I could have waited with that.’ Eddie said afterwards, his hand still on your cheek.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Your voice was hushed, but you kissed Eddie deeply instead of breathing in the air you needed. You pulled at his shirt to bring him closer, and his other hand reached for your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

‘You should probably get back,’ he muttered between kisses.

‘Probably,’ you replied. Neither of you meant any of it, and you both knew it. You had no idea why you only saw each other at the library. Maybe because you always knew to find each other here; it was a certainty. Outside, it would be a mere coincidence to bump into Eddie. Here, you knew he would be here every week.

Maybe because it felt like a haven for both of you and it felt like a different reality—an escape from the real world. But it was precisely this that made everything else so fragile. Who knew what it would be like outside of these bookshelves? You didn’t want to know, so why risk it? What you had now, it was an unspoken agreement. One you both were more than happy with. It was special—a rarity.

Everything- the kiss, the hold, the emotions, the heat- all intensified the longer you kept going. It was getting messy and rough. Eddie had locked you in between him and the bookcase. You could feel him all over you. His hair tickling your face, his cold rings on your skin, his clothes pressing into you, his— fuck, he was huge. You could feel him against your thigh, no hiding it.

‘Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the whole week.’ He breathed against your neck. ‘Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’ You would have told him the same if you could form an entire sentence. It was hard to concentrate daily when you had the memory of his touch plague you every day, and everything around you at your job was a heavy reminder.

‘Need… I need you, Eddie,’ you gasped out as he kissed your neck, right on the spot that made your knees go weak. ‘Please.’

‘Hmm, need you too, sweetheart.’ He was roaming his hand over your bare thigh underneath your skirt. Sometimes you wondered if anyone around had noticed that you really only wore them on days of Eddie’s library visits. Perhaps Eddie hadn’t picked up on that specifically, but he certainly enjoyed your style. ‘Drive my fucking wild in these short skirts of yours.’ The words rolled out of his mouth as he began unzipping his jeans. ‘Look so fucking good.’

‘Thank you,’ you moaned, giggling about how giddy you felt that he was complimenting you while preparing to thrust his dick in you. It was all so silly, so stupid. You were doing something incredibly risky, most likely illegal, but you couldn’t care one bit. All you could think about was how good he made you feel. How happy you felt with him.

‘C’mere,’ Eddie groaned, pulling you up by your thighs, holding you against the shelves. Luckily, they were pretty sturdy, bolted to the ground, so his force pushing you against them barely mattered. On you, however, it was another story.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you whimpered, trying to stay quiet at the feeling of him inside you. After letting you adjust quickly, he started thrusting in you hard and deep. The way he was moving against you, it made your whole body shake. You could feel your glasses slip down your nose. In the haze of it all, you had forgotten to take them off but were about to do so– when Eddie interrupted.

‘No, keep them on.’ He kissed your cheek.

‘Why?’ you didn’t see a reason for them.

‘Want you to see me fucking you.’ His smile was airy. ‘Besides, it’s hot as shit. The way you get so messy for me. And your hair,’ he punctuated each sentence with a deep thrust. One of his hands brushed some of your hair out of your face, ‘I wish I could take a picture of you right now. Would cum to it like every day.’

‘Gross.’ You joked, and in return, Eddie grazed his teeth over your collarbone, nipping at your skin slightly.

‘Calling me gross as if you’re not getting fucked in the middle of the library.’ Eddie’s smile was contagious. As he continued, your glasses were falling again, but he quickly pushed them back over the bridge of your nose. ‘You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.’

‘I’m–’ you gasped as he went deeper.

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘I’m– I’m close, Eddie.’ You tried to whisper as best as you could, biting down on any noises that could be heard from afar.

‘Mmm, I know, you’re so tight. So perfect.’ he moaned through his last hard thrusts. You could feel your climax coming, knew how it would come, and quickly hid your face in the nape of his neck to muffle your scream of pleasure as it washed over you. Eddie rode it out with you, only moments behind.

He held you briefly, letting you come down and stabilise your breathing. You smiled at eachother sheepishly and kissed deeply once more. There was nothing else to say.

Eddie pulled out, the emptiness hitting you immensely. It was a strange sensation, and you still didn’t feel quite yourself as your feet touched the ground again. But Eddie’s hands stayed on you for stability.

‘You’re a dream, sweetheart. Just… unbelievable.’

Eddie brushed the loose strands of hair from your face again while you readjusted your glasses. There was nothing else to say.

Now came the awkward part where you timed your exit from the aisle and hid the guilty sex-glow look on your face.

It was a slow day at the library, so no one awaited you at the front desk. You took your place and tried to shake off all your emotions, and it worked for the most part, except for the giant smile. That you just could not get rid of.

It was still there when Eddie returned to you twenty minutes later, now accompanied by a new stack of books.

‘Found everything you were looking for?’ You asked as you took the books from him.

‘That and more.’ He leaned his elbows on the wood, grinning like an idiot. You had to tell yourself not to look at him, or you would get lost in those big brown eyes.

‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You stamped the date into all the books and returned them to Eddie. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Eddie grabbed them under his arm. ‘Same time next week?’ He winked. Once, the words really were only meant for this little exchange. That had been all you were looking forward to—the small chat at the desk. Back then, you would have never imagined the things you would get up to with the metalhead in the barely visited sections of the library.

‘See you, Eddie.’ You shook your head, still smiling, of course. And that was that. There was nothing else to say.

At least, there wasn’t before. All those other times, that really would have been it. Eddie would have walked away, and you would have watched him do so while already awaiting his comeback. Yet this time…

This time, Eddie stayed in his place.

‘Can I… help you with anything else?’ You raised a brow.

‘Uhh–’ Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, you could. See if I have these… these two tickets for this thing— a concert… and see, I have no idea what to do with this second one, so maybe you could help me with that.’ He spoke fast and like he was stumbling over an uneven pavement instead of words, but you followed it nonetheless.

‘Concert?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’ He expanded with the name of a band you had never heard of before. ‘This weekend.’

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, as you already knew your answer. ‘I might have a friend who would be interested in taking that ticket off you.’

‘Any chance this friend of yours wears cute glasses, short skirts and works at my favourite spot in the city?’

‘She just might.’ You bit the inside of your cheek.

‘Then it’s deal, sweetheart,’ Eddie slammed his hand on the table in excitement, then immediately cringed at the noise he made. That same noise seemed to have awakened a quick realisation in him: ‘Wait, we were talking about you, right?’

‘Yes, Eddie. I would love to go to the concert with you.’ You rolled your eyes at the needed clarification.

‘Cool, just checking. Great.’ he started walking away now. ‘Great. I’ll pick you up– wait; I don’t even know where you live.’

‘You can pick me up here.’

‘Do you live at the library?’ he asked quickly, and you were sure he was being serious.

‘No, Eddie, I do not, but I work weekends too. But you can bring me back to my place afterwards. Stay the night, maybe?’ Was that too much too quickly? You started to panic for a second, thinking you took it too far, but then Eddie replied, repeating his previous words.

‘It’s a deal, sweetheart.’

the end

thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to hear your thoughts

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pwincess-charchar · 3 months ago

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Gravity falls agere HC’s?? In this economy?? More likely than you think!!

Stan and Ford agere HC’s!

(DNI: anti agere, k!nk/nsfw)

Ford 📕📚📓📖

📕-Teen regressor! 16-18

📕-semi perma regressed, actually! In the BOB Bill flat out says a part of him is permanently stuck at 18 so I ran with that-

📕-I think he’s actually somewhat aware he regresses. He’s an educated guy after all! But he never really saw it as a big deal if that makes sense? Like to him-it’s just another personality trait. He’s not keeping it a secret-but he won’t really bring it up unless someone else does first

📕-Likes playing dndnd a lot! Will pester his brother to play with him. (Has actually succeeded a handful of times! To everyone’s surprise-)

📕-While he likes tabletop he also really enjoys video games! That Atari we see Mabel and Dipper play on in that one episode? That was actually his! He used to play it a lot more before he got…caught up in his research

📕-Dipper, Mabel, and Soos show him more modern games too! He’s really into horror puzzle games specifically

📕-“Let’s” Stanley “drag him” into trouble (he secretly also wants to do whatever shenanigans his brother is up to. He just likes to pretend he’s responsible)

📕-Actually really into fantasy/sci-fi books! Not just non fiction

📕-Can and WILL explain the entire plot of the book series he likes if someone shows a smidge of interest. And he will not miss a SINGLE detail. You know the birthday of the main characters best friends dog’s sister by the time he’s done yapping to you

Stanley ♠️♥️♣️♦️

♠️-Also teen regressor! 17-18

♠️-Stan isn’t actually aware he regresses until someone points it out (likely his brother). He just always assumed he was being childish sometimes. He sort of brushed it off at first, actually. But the more he thought about it? The more it made sense

♠️-Not big on tabletop. But Stan also really likes video games! He sticks with older stuff the classics.

♠️-Trouble maker. Can and will vandalize whatever he can get his hands on. From minor stuff like scribbling “PINES” on the booth tables in the diner to straight up spray painting rude hand gestures and swears on walls

♠️- DEFINITELY likes to explore abandoned buildings (cough it’s a great place for the previous hc cough) and absolutely will drag Ford along. Calls it “ghost hunting” to convince him (Ford would have gone anyways)

♠️-Likes binging TV shows (normally older kid cartoons. Like Ducktective). Tries to get Ford into it to (Again to everyone’s surprise-Ford actually will! He might not be super into it but hey. It’s not like Stan’s super into his tabletop games either)

♠️-He will also occasionally watch dramatic soap operas. Not that he would tell anyone that-

♠️-Actually likes to hang around the animals. Gommpers and Waddles are pretty great company

Mabel banner!

#gravity falls agere #gravity falls age regression #Stan Pines agere #Ford pines agere #Gravity falls agere hc’s #Charlie writes!

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lostloveletters · 1 year ago

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You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark (Ron Speirs x Reader)

Summary: Night falls in Bavaria to victorious revelry, and at the goading of your friends, the lust you've been kindling in secret suddenly burns hot and wild to the touch.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used besides the slightest bit of backstory. Inspired by several Bruce Springsteen songs. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. (Also, hi I’m Battie! This is my first Band of Brothers fic despite being a fan of the miniseries since 2016. Let me know what you think🖤) Do not interact if you’re under 18, are a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Inherent power imbalance. Explicit content involving vaginal fingering and unprotected sex.

You weren’t sure how six of you managed to squeeze into a booth together in the Bavarian bar, elbow-to-elbow as you drank beer and shouted over each other. Sitting squished against Talbert, who was squished against Malarkey, one of your legs wasn’t even in the booth. On the other side of the table, Babe, Perconte, and Luz were in the same situation.

Victory in Europe had just been declared. The celebratory feeling filled your lungs with each breath despite the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar. With the war in Japan still raging on, the likelihood of those without enough points having to endure another drop remained up in the air. One night of fun wouldn’t hurt anybody. No one could say you hadn’t earned it.

Glancing around at your friends, the guys you lived and would’ve died for—even after the war ended, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t imagine being closer with anyone else. Growing up without much of a family, passed around homes of distant relatives and near strangers until you had enough and ventured out on your own as a teen, you’d never had such strong connections before. The only reason you were even allowed to work so closely with Easy Company, was the absence of any next-of-kin, no one to cause a fuss if something went wrong while you were overseas. You were non-combat detail, of course, typing and running errands as needed, but more often than was likely ideal, you found yourself somewhere on the line with the medic training you’d gotten.

You hadn’t been at Toccoa with them, only meeting most of the guys just before D-Day. After Operation Market Garden’s failure in Holland, they came around to you upon the return to Aldbourne, least surprising of whom was Talbert, ever so kindly taking you under his wing when he was recovering from being accidentally stabbed by Smith. The two of you became close friends, and though you heard of his exploits with women in just about every city the company passed through, he seemed hellbent on being your wingman, trying to set you up with at least half a dozen members of Easy to little success.

With the taste of sweet victory and bold German beer on everyone’s lips, declarations of what and who everyone would ideally do to celebrate poured from your friends with little prompting. Knowing you well enough at that point, Tab took the opportunity to get you in on the conversation, the light mood and buzz in your system leaving you more loose-lipped than usual.

“Alright, our company’s eligible bachelorette,” Tab said, conspiratorial mirth in his voice. “Fraternization rules to the dust, which of Easy’s officers would you do your celebrating with?”

Your lips twitched, failing to suppress your smile as your drinking buddies awaited your answer. “Speirs.”

Finishing off the rest of your beer, you stifled your amusement at the clamor that ensued. Undoubtedly the least expected answer, part of Tab’s failure to secure a date for you among his comrades was your infatuation with the legendary captain—closely guarded, until you had a beer or two in you, apparently.

“Speirs?” Babe repeated incredulously.

“No way,” Malarkey said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“They need to get you to one of those headshrinkers,” Perconte said.

“Hold on a minute,” Tab said with an amused smile, trying to reign in the chaos. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You wanna know why?” you asked.

Ever since Speirs stuck with Easy Company after Bastogne, you worked closely with him as you did the other officers, taking notes and keeping memos for them. Speirs often requisitioned you to type up reports for him, finding it easier to dictate what he wanted written to you than typing them himself. Sometimes you found his attention drifting off when it was a more mundane report, his words trailing away while he looked at you, typically slouched on a chair or couch at the end of a long day. You would let yourself take him in, hoping the perceptive man wouldn’t notice the way your eyes trailed up his long, outstretched legs to his disheveled hair.

He provided the most attention to battlefield exploits, and at times you couldn’t keep up with how fast he was speaking or would find yourself a bit startled by some of the gruesome details he relayed. You’d heard the rumors about him. Everyone had. But a disgustingly repressed part of you that’d emerged at some point during the war was secretly thrilled by them, almost hoping they were true.

“Well, you owe us that much,” Luz said.

“I owe you all jack and shit.”

“What if I buy you another drink?”

“I think I’m gonna need another one after hearing this,” Babe muttered.

“Let’s see, why would I sleep with Captain Speirs,” you said, playfully tapping your chin in faux thought. “For starters, he’s fine as hell, which should be reason enough. I like that he’s a no-nonsense kinda guy. He has this intensity that I think is really sexy.”

The cacophony of bewilderment and objection that filled the booth met its slow death when the occupant of the booth behind yours got up. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw it was Speirs.

He made his way out of the pub, your light mood with him.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Do you think he heard?”

“No way he didn’t,” Malarkey said.

“Fuck, I need to do something before I get demoted or transferred or something.”

Tab grinned. “Well, if you’re not walking straight tomorrow, we’ll know you did something.”

“Shut up, jerk!” you hissed. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

He gave you a mocking salute.

You flipped him off as you got up from the table, running after your CO who more than likely overheard you expressing to your buddies that you’d enthusiastically have sex with him. Of course it happened the one time you actually joined in on their vulgarity.

Unlike his silent stride, your boots pounded against the pavement, announcing your approach to him.

He turned around abruptly, and you nearly fell over your own feet as you stopped in your tracks.

His intense gaze on you felt like being at the end of his rifle’s sight. “Are you drunk, Y/L/N?”

“No—no, sir.”

“Good. I could use your help with a report.”

You stared at him blankly. A report. At ten o’clock at night. “Of course, sir. Anything you need.”

The corners of his lips upturned for a split second. “I’m sure.” Fuck. He’d definitely heard you.

The two of you started off down the street, toward a more residential area wherein officers had requisitioned houses for the US Army’s use for the foreseeable future. Almost dreamily picturesque, tree branches waved at you in the cool night breeze, the surrounding mountains illuminated by the bright fullness of the moon. From the soft glow of street lamps lighting your way, something you’d previously taken for granted, you tried not to stare at him. In the warm glow of that balmy summer evening, however, he looked almost too good to be true. Hair slightly unkempt, the whisper of stubble along his jaw and cheeks, surely his face would feel like heaven between your thighs.

Soldiers in all states of drunkenness ambled up and down either side of the street, hollering and singing in carefree celebration. Speirs placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you past a group of men who could hardly walk straight. One of them walked right into you, his head nearly colliding with yours.

“Fuck,” the young soldier grumbled under his breath, shooting you a dirty look for being in his way.

Speirs wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you aside to stand in front of you. “Private,” he snapped, staring down the young man who looked like he was about to shit himself. “I advise you get yourself together and watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir—Captain Speirs, sir,” he said, turning his attention to you. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You nodded silently, and the private ran off after his buddies.

Speirs turned to you, his hands on your shoulders as his intense gaze searched your face for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

In Hagenau, one of the replacements had been pestering you the moment he laid eyes on you. At first, you humored him, supposing he needed a friend, as the men who’d been through Normandy and Bastogne were understandably closed-off and tight knit. Thought the new guys were too green, too eager to do something stupid and get someone killed in pursuit of battlefield glory that was too haunting to exist.

Then he started getting handsy, not enough to be outright inappropriate, but enough to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what possessed you to mention it to Speirs when he’d asked you how you were doing one afternoon. His brow furrowed, he gave you a silent nod in response. The replacement had been transferred elsewhere the following day.

Though Speirs stared right at you, there was something far away in his eyes as he squeezed your shoulders.

“I’m fine, sir,” you repeated. “I promise.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” he said softly.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, not bothering to offer you one. You were in the minority of people who didn’t smoke, allowing you to leverage the packs in your rations to trade amongst the men. As time went on, you’d leave them on top of your finished reports for Speirs, especially if they were Luckys. You watched silently as he lit the cigarette in his mouth, a shining silver lighter in his hand. His eyes drifted from the flame back to you, though you noticed the slightest spark behind them.

The rest of the walk was uneventful until you reached the house. A few stragglers hung around on the street outside, their voices becoming the slightest bit more hushed as they watched you follow Speirs inside. By the time the front door shut, they’d already begun speculating why the two of you were going to his place so late. With the way the men spread gossip, you could hazard a guess as to what the tale would morph into by the morning. You silently bemoaned the prospect of the night hardly being as interesting as whatever they conjured up.

Following him upstairs, the makeshift office seemed especially cramped with the boxes and papers that were haphazardly spread around the place. It’d probably take weeks to sift through it all, especially since a glance at one of the files appeared to be in German. Getting help wouldn’t be the issue, but rather the fact that none of the members of Easy who knew German were particularly inclined toward office work, becoming restless after an hour or so.

A problem for another time, however. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly half past ten, and you were almost inclined to ask Speirs about coffee, depending on how long he expected the report to take. You sat down at the desk, ready to begin typing the date when you noticed the ink was out.

“Is there any typewriter ribbon around, sir?” you asked.

He nodded. “Should be in one of the drawers.”

You opened the drawer immediately to your right, finding a mess of stationary that had clearly been shoved in carelessly. Or maybe someone had taken something out of it in a hurry. Digging through it, you came up empty, and moved onto the drawer below it. No dice. The one to your left didn’t have typewriter ribbon either, at least, you would have been surprised to find it tucked in with the loot that nearly filled the thing to the brim–shining silverware, glistening jewelry, and trinkets that someone with a keener eye than you had clearly decided were valuable enough to keep.

His extensive looting was an open secret, but a glimpse of this treasure trove was a shock to the system. So entranced by the contents of the drawer, you didn’t hear him walk up beside you until his shadow fell over the necklaces and rings you silently coveted.

He gave you a sly smile, wolfish in the dim lighting. “Haven’t had much of a chance to organize those.”

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, gingerly touching a pearl necklace.

“Try them on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

You picked up the string of pearls, a nervousness washing over you at holding something so valuable, something of his. Walking over to the window, the nearest reflective surface you could find, you pulled the necklace on, garish against your uniform. You tried shaking off the odd feeling of playing dress-up in front of your commanding officer, a girlish whim he inexplicably allowed you to indulge in. His expression was unreadable when you turned around for him.

“They suit you,” he finally said, brushing his fingers against the pearls, slowly drifting lower to the exposed skin of your decollete. “Keep them.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you small gifts every now and then—typewriter ribbon, fountain pens, chocolate, trinkets. You knew better than to question where he got them, as he seemed to give them to you at the perfect moment. The stationary supplies when you were running low on them, chocolate and trinkets when you were feeling down. At times they’d be accompanied by notes from him. Usually short, but so sincere you treasured them more than the gifts. Whenever you’d try to thank him, he’d just shrug, almost dismissing the gesture.

This time, feeling bold in the cover of night, you pressed your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “thank you.”

He didn’t react. Disappointed, you moved to sit back down at the desk until he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back to him.

“Were you telling the truth?” he asked, his voice a husky, demanding whisper. “Back at the bar.”

“Yes.”

“So if I said I’ve wanted you in a bad way since Bastogne?”

You kissed him, an explosion of warmth in your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He settled his hands on your hips, squeezing them with a tenderness that betrayed his longing. Parting your lips for him, you allowed him to deepen the kiss, wanting to see how far he’d take it.

Almost overwhelmed by his gentle intensity, you pulled away from his lips, though his mouth chased yours, capturing yet another kiss from you.

“Show me how you want me,” you pleaded with desperate kisses to his face, trailing down to his throat where you could feel the way he groaned in pleasure at your touch.

“In my room,” he managed to say. “I wanna lay you on the bed and–”

“Anything, anything you want, Ron.”

His lips slightly blushed from the ferocity of your kiss, he parted his mouth as if to speak, but instead took your hand firmly in his.

He led you straight down the nondescript hallway that nevertheless left you feeling turned around, dizzied by your desire for him. A door opened, and you were promptly pulled inside the room. The click of the lock behind you sent a slight shiver down your spine.

Pulled into his arms again, you lost yourself in his fervent kiss, until you reached down, palming his hardening cock through his pants. He moaned into your mouth, the sound only exacerbating the heat between your thighs, the ache inside of you that up until that point had been abated by your fingers, always rushed, never satisfying the urge to be filled–by him, preferably. From the way he felt beneath your hand, he could do all of that and more.

And after the months of silently, almost guiltily lusting after him like a nun, he wanted you too. The ego boost emboldened you. “Did you ever think about me when you were alone?” you asked, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze.

“Yes–fuck,” he groaned.

“Like what?”

“Besides keeping me warm in that goddamn forest? This–I thought of this,” he murmured against your lips. “But I didn’t let myself think of a future with you. I couldn’t have survived if I did.”

“And now?”

“I want everything you’ll give me, sweetheart.”

“Lucky you, that’s exactly what I wanna give.”

He smiled slightly, his hands hastily working to unbutton your shirt. “Lucky–except you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You reached for the pearls, about to take them off when he caught your wrist in his hand.

“Leave them on.” His voice was steady, authoritative, the closest he sounded to Speirs since he scolded the private who walked into you earlier.

Weak in the knees, you acquiesced to the one and only order your captain would give you that night. You otherwise undressed, your uniform in a pile at your feet. Your bra and panties were simple, certainly not the sexy lingerie you’d fantasized about seducing Ron in, but his eyes blazed as if your body were hugged by an inviting satin set. A burst of confidence rushed through you, and you held his gaze as you discarded your bra and panties.

You laid back on the bed as he undressed, watching intently until he was down to nothing more than his underwear, his hard cock straining against the fabric. He pulled them off, and you sucked in a breath at how big he was. Erect, at attention for you, all the more intimidating as he approached, joining you on the bed. His daring in the line of fire sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He straddled your hips, his eyes taking in your naked form with a primal intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He reached down, two of his fingers circling your clit, your body trembled beneath his touch. By the way he studied how your face contorted in pleasure as a foreign-sounding moan rose from deep in your chest, you could tell it was payback for your teasing him just minutes before.

His fingers shifted, slipping inside your wet core with ease. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace that made your stomach tighten and toes curl, but slowly bringing you closer to orgasm. You bucked your hips when he curled his fingers inside of you, blood rushing in your ears so loud that you could hardly hear the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, one that made you nearly howl in frustration.

“Who got you this worked up, sweetheart?” he asked, nipping the shell of your ear.

A whimper. “You.”

“What was that?”

“You.” Through a haze of lust-soaked desperation, you took his face in your hands. “Don’t make me beg, Sparky. It’s always been you.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs, and you nearly whined until he slid his length inside your pussy, your walls clenching around his cock. You braced yourself on his shoulder blades, your nails doing a number on him as you dug them into his taut skin while he thrust into you. Carefully at first, almost frustratingly so, until you cried, “More.”

He was bigger than you were used to, even before the war, but the slight discomfort was drowned out by the way his steady, deep thrusts filled you. He ducked his head down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, his hand groping the other. Sucking on your breast, his teeth grazed your nipple, the hint of pain complimenting the pleasure. Your climax was so close you could see it if you closed your eyes, raw and vulnerable.

“Ron, I’m so close,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head, nodding. “Where should I–”

“Inside–fuck–I want you to cum inside me.”

And he did, with an erratic thrust that pushed him deeper inside you still. You kissed him as your pussy milked his cock, lifting your hips to grind against him for the slightest bit of friction to your clit. You threw your head back as you came, an obscene moan escaping your lips as pleasure spread across your body, white-hot like a star in supernova.

His name fell from your lips, laced with curses, over and over like a vulgar prayer. He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your decollete, his lips brushing the pearls that stuck to your sweat-sheened skin until he shuddered, bottoming out in you.

He pulled out slowly, his toned chest heaving before he collapsed next to you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one. You declined, and he placed one between his lips, using a nearby match to light it before taking you in his arms. You settled comfortably against his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments.

“So, what about that report?” you asked slyly when you’d finally caught your breath.

His quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze betraying his adoration as he looked at you. “I might need your help again tomorrow night."

Knowing it was too risky for you to spend the night, he reluctantly let you leave around three in the morning, a slight pout on his face as you took off the pearl necklace and tucked it into your pocket. You left him with a passionate parting kiss, one that he used to nearly convince you to stay just a little bit longer until you quietly promised you’d report to him first thing.

The streets were mostly deserted except for the men on patrol. You kept your head down, booking it back to where you were quartered, hoping your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up, or at least raise any questions.

Just your luck, you ran right into Tab, a shit-eating grin on his face at your disheveled appearance. “I knew it."

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